Chapter Thirteen:


That night I had one of those dreams.

One of those really, really good dreams. The kind that make you tingle all the way down to your toes, and leave this weird flutter in your stomach when you wake up in the morning. Normally when I have one of those dreams, I'm in a good mood that lasts the entire day.

I haven't had one of those dreams in a long time, not since Mom and Dad died.

So naturally, right as the dream was getting good, Darry had to go and wake me up, shaking me by the shoulders urgently.

"Huh...?" I murmured, too tired to fully open my eyes, so I squinted up at his blurry form. "Go away, Darry, I'm tryin' to sleep here."

I pulled my pillow over my head in an attempt to block out what he was saying, but he grabbed it away from me. I sat up, scowling, ready to give it to him real good, but stopped short when I saw the deliriously happy grin on his face.

"Darry?" I asked softly, rubbing my eyes.

"The hospital just called," he announced, a strange light shining in his eyes. He looked as if someone had just told him that we'd won the lottery or something. "They've got Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy?" I gasped, throwing back my covers and swinging my legs over the side of my bed. "He's back?"

"Yeah," Darry nodded. "Johnny and Dally, too."

Dally? So Soda and I had been right about him knowing where they were. I wonder if Darry realized, if he did he didn't seem too upset about it at the moment. I hurried over to my closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and my boots, trying to get dressed as quickly as I could so that we could get down to the hospital and see Pony.

That part finally sunk in and I turned back to my brother, jeans still in hand. "He's at the hospital?" I rasped worriedly. "Why? What happened?"

Darry's mood sombered, and his mouth set itself in a grim line. "Apparently some church up in Windrixville caught on fire, and some little kids were trapped inside. Pony, Johnny and Dally rescued 'em, and they got a bit roughed up in the process."

"How bad?" I whispered.

"We don't know yet, princess," Darry replied with a shake of his head. "But Ponyboy wasn't admitted, they just checked him out a bit. He's doin' okay."

That eased some of the heaviness in my chest, but not all of it, because just because Pony wasn't hurt, didn't mean that Johnny and Dallas weren't. "We're gonna go get him now, right?" I asked. "We can bring him on home tonight and everythin'?"

"Yeah," he promised. "We get to bring him home."

"You tell Soda yet?" I asked.

"He's gettin' dressed now," Darry informed me. "Hurry up and do the same. As soon as the two of ya'll are ready, we'll leave."

I got dressed as fast as I could, brushed my hair back and tied it off in a ponytail, then laced up my boots. By the time I got out into the living room, Soda was waiting at the door, and I could hear Darry starting the truck outside. "Ready?" Soda asked, flashing me a lopsided grin.

"Let's go," I nodded, following him out the door, down the steps, and out to the car.

It wasn't far to the hospital, but it seemed like the drive took forever, when in truth it hardly took us more than ten minutes. Darry parked the truck and the three of us hurried into the hospital, getting directions from the front desk.

The elevator ride up to the third floor was filled with anxious silence. Soda kept taping his foot on the floor, willing the elevator to move faster by staring at the doors, and Darry was looking at his feet, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

When the doors opened with a chime, Soda bounded out, but Darry hesitated. I glanced at him, but he was biting his lip, a worried look on his face, so I just squeezed his hand, then hurried out into the hallway.

Soda was already scooping Ponyboy up into a bear hug, swinging him around like a little kid. I did a double take when I saw Pony, his silky dark hair bleached a wheat-gold yellow and his face singed with ash. Lordy, that hair sure made him look different.

"Oh, Ponyboy," Soda murmured, touching his hand to the blond locks. "Your hair... your tuff, tuff hair..."

"Spend too much time out in the sun or somethin', kid?" I asked dryly.

Soda released his hold on Pony, still grinning, and our little brother turned to face me, his eyes wide with relief. "Lizzie," he breathed, taking a step towards me.

I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. It's funny, in the past year or so Ponyboy's really gotten tall, so even though I'm older he stands a good few inches taller than me now. He felt thinner in my arms than I'd remembered, and I could smell the smoke that had seeped into his clothes, his hair, his skin. I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat. "I missed ya, Pony," I whispered, my eyes stinging with tears. "I'm so glad you're home."

I'm so glad you're not hurt, I added silently. I'm so glad you're not dead...

"Oh, Lizzie," Pony said, hugging me tighter, as if he knew what I was thinking. His chin came to rest on the top of my head, and I felt tears fall on my hair. "I missed ya, too."

Soda's expression suddenly changed, his smile fading into something more apprehensive, and Ponyboy stiffened in my arms. I didn't need to turn around to know that Darry had emerged from the elevator behind me.

"Ponyboy..." he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

I let go of Pony and looked over at Darry, who was standing there looking lost, his fists jammed in his pockets, eyes pleading, lower lip starting to tremble ever so slightly. He has a frightened look in his eyes, like he was afraid that Pony would turn away from him.

Ponyboy just stared at him for a moment, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Darry had driven him away that night, which had only made Pony even more convinced that Darry didn't love him. For such a smart kid, sometimes my little brother is a real dummy. But now Ponyboy was finally seeing the truth, that Darry did love him, that he loved him more than any words could ever say. Darry was crying, and he hardly ever cried. The last time I'd seen him cry was after Mom and Dad's funeral, when he went and sat out in the truck for an hour in the middle of the night and just bawled.

I hadn't been able to sleep that night, and so I'd gone out to the kitchen to get something to drink when I saw him. I hadn't known what to do, so I simply made him some coffee and had a cup ready for him when he came back inside. We never talked about that night, and maybe that's part of this family's problem.

We never talk about the hard stuff.

"Darry," Ponyboy gasped out, stumbling towards him. "Darry, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

Darry wrapped him in a fierce hug, his shoulders shaking with sobs of relief. "Oh Ponyboy," he choked out. "I thought we'd lost you like we did Mom and Dad."

Soda tugged me forward by the hand and the next thing I knew we were joining in on the hug, the four of us clinging to one another desperately. I could feel Darry's fingers digging into my shirt, twisting the fabric in his fist tightly, but I didn't mind. I knew how he felt, I understood what this moment with Ponyboy meant to him.

A few minutes later, Darry lifted his head, sniffling, and eyed Pony's bleached hair. "You sure look funny," he observed, offering a wavery smile.

"Yeah," Pony replied, half-sobbing, half-laughing. "I know. Don't rub it in."

The four of us sat down in the waiting area to wait for word about Johnny and Dally. Ponyboy hadn't been able to get anyone to tell him anything, but he'd seen the boys when they were brought in, and he reckoned that Dally would be okay, since he was well enough to threaten to beat his head into a wall the next time he did something as stupid as running into a burning church.

He didn't say anything about Johnny, though, and that worried me.

A while later a doctor finally came out to speak with us. Ponyboy had fallen asleep, sprawled out on a few chairs, and I was starting to drfit off with my head on Soda's shoulder, but everyone sat up right away when the doctor approached.

Darry and the doctor stepped off to the side to talk and when he came back, his mouth was set in a grim line and his face was paler than it had been. Ponyboy had been right about Dally- he'd gotten his right arm burned a bit, so he'd need to stay in the hospital for a few days, but he'd be as good as new in a few weeks.

Johnny, however, was in pretty bad shape.

A support beam had fallen on him during the fire, and he'd broken his back real good. His entire body had gotten some serious burns, and the doctors were giving him something to dull the pain, but he was still hurt real bad. They said that he'd never walk again, that he'd be crippled for the rest of his life.

And that was supposed to be the good news, the option we hoped for, because the alternative was that he wouldn't make it at all.

I gazed out the window of the truck, feeling sick, like I might throw up and faint at the same time. If Johnny was lucky, he might live. But what kind of life would he have? He'd never get to play football with the boys, never get to run over to our house when his got too harsh to deal with. He'd be trapped, and it would kill him.

By the time we pulled into the drive, Ponyboy had fallen back asleep, so Darry had to carry him into the house, while Soda held open the front door for him.

"He's gettin' too big to be carryin'," Soda muttered sleepily.

"He's sure lost a lot of weight, though," Darry observed, and I was glad that I wasn't the only one who had noticed. They disappeared into the room Pony and Soda shared, and Darry lowered Pony onto the bed gently as Soda turned down the covers and get into bed beside him.

"Night, Darry," Soda yawned. "Night, Lizzie."

"Night, little buddy," Darry said to Soda as he backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He turned around, and didn't look at all surprised to see me standing there. Without a word, he started down the hall towards the kitchen, and I followed, stopping in the doorway while he got himself out a glass of chocolate milk and then sat down at the table.

There was a long moment of silence, with both of us trying to come to terms with everything that had happened, with everything that might still happen.

"Johnny's not gonna be okay," I whispered, my eyes stinging with hot tears. "Is he, Darry?"

Darry looked down at his milk. "I don't think so, princess," he replied softly. "It's pretty bad."

I nodded, swallowing hard past the lump that rose up in my throat. "Do ya think he's in a lot of pain?" I asked hoarsely, my voice quivering.

"The doctors are trying to make it easier on him," Darry reminded me. "But they can't take the pain away completely."

It wasn't fair, none of it. Johnny was a good kid, he was sweet and kind and he didn't deserve something like this. He'd only stabbed that Sheldon kid in self-defense, and he'd done it to save Ponyboy's life, as well. He'd risked his own life to save those kids from the church, without even a moment's hesitation. He was a good kid...

I shook my head, tears sliding down my cheeks.

It wasn't fair, but if there was one thing I'd learned over the years, it was that life isn't fair.

Not at all.