Chapter Seventeen:


I heard them coming when they turned the corner of our street.

Turning off the television, I pushed to my feet and hurried over to the door, swinging it open and stepping out onto the front porch as they stumbled up the drive, soaked and dirty, all of them looking like they'd just gotten the tar kicked out of them. But from the delirious grins on their faces and their excited chatter, it went without question that they'd won.

"Ya'll look like a bunch o' drowned alley cats," I drawled, relieved to see them all standing.

Darry was the at the front of the pack, climbing up the steps slowly, like his entire body was aching. His right eye was puffy, I had a feeling he'd have a black eye in the morning, and there was a nasty looking cut on his forehead that would need to be cleaned up. "You ain't lookin' much better," he replied, eyeing my ruffled hair.

"Fell asleep for a bit," I shrugged, holding open the door for them as they trudged their way onto the porch. I winced a little when I saw Two-Bit- blood was streaming down one side of his face, and his left hand was busted wide open. "Glory, what happened t' you?" I asked.

"Busted open my knuckles over some Soc's head," he grunted in reply, brushing past me into the house, and I turned to inspect the remaining boys.

Soda was in pretty good shape, with a wide cut across his lip and a bruise on his cheek, but nothing serious. His knuckles were red, meaning he'd done most of the swinging during his fight, which didn't come as much of a surprise. None of my brothers has ever been whipped in a fight, and it wasn't likely that they ever would.

He was helping Steve up the steps, and I turned my gaze to Steve, looking him over with concern. He was holding his side, his features twisted into a grimace of pain, and blood was trickling down the right side of his face from a nasty gash at his temple.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, touching his arm gently.

"Yeah," he replied hoarsely, wincing as he clutched his side. "I think I broke a few ribs."

I bit my lip, my heart wrenching at seeing the shape he was in. If I'd doubted my feelings for him before, there was no denying it now. "I'll get some bandages and stuff to fix you boys up." Glancing at Two-Bit, I added, "We'll have to get ya over to the hospital after a bit so they can stitch you up right."

Two-Bit groaned, no doubt at the thought of the getting stitches. He's always hated needles, so he usually puts up a fight about going to the hospital, but he'd go because we'd make him. And if he gave me any lip about it, I'd just have Darry drag him there by force.

I followed Soda and Steve into the house, shutting the door behind me, and then frowned, realizing that someone was missing. "Where's Ponyboy?" I asked, looking around worriedly.

"He and Dallas took off after we got the Socs on the run," Two-Bit replied, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.

"Dally was there?" I asked incredulously. "He's supposed to be in the hospital!"

"Supposed to be," Soda agreed dryly. "Isn't."

"He showed up at the start of the rumble," Darry explained, easing himself down into his armchair. "Put up a pretty good fight, too, considerin' he could only use the one arm."

"Glory," I muttered, shaking my head. "That boy has absolutely no common sense."

"This is Dally we're talkin' about," Steve pointed out with a pained smirk.

"Good point," I muttered, shaking my head and sighing. I hurried into the kitchen and got the First Aid kit out from under the sink, pausing to turn on the sink and wet one of the dishtowels before heading back into the living room.

"Toss me a Band-Aid, will ya, princess?" Darry asked, fingering the cut on his forehead.

I complied, throwing him the antiseptic cream, too, then turned my attention to the others. Soda didn't really need anything except maybe some ice to hold against his cheek, so I decided to get Two-Bit cleaned up first.

It was easier said than done.

Every time the antiseptic touched his wounds, he hissed and tried to pull away, but I held him in place firmly, fixing him with a sharp glare. "Hold still, will ya?" I snapped. "This won't hurt as much if ya quit your squirmin'!"

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, but he didn't fidget as much after that. I cleaned the gash on his cheek as best I could, but it was going to need a few stitches later, and his hand was going to need even more. I wiped up the blood a little, then bandaged his knuckles and taped up his cheek, careful to do it as gently as I could.

"There," I said, flashing him a small smile. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

He just cocked an eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes as I pushed to my feet. Soda had helped Steve down onto the couch, and he was laying there with his shirt unbuttoned, breathing hard, while Soda murmured to him reassuringly. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when I knelt down beside him, and it pained me to see his eyes so feverish and bewildered.

"How ya feelin'?" I asked.

"Like I got ran over by a truck," he groaned.

"Ya look like it, too," Soda teased him, and I could see he was trying not to laugh at the pitiful glare Steve threw in his direction.

"Sodapop, go grab some ice for that bruise," I told him, nodding at his swelling cheekbone. "Get some for Darry's eye, too, will ya?"

"Sure," he nodded, and dragged himself off into the kitchen.

"Ya sure got yourself roughed up," I sighed, eyeing Steve's bruised ribcage.

"Tell me about it," he gasped out, wincing again. "Ya gonna doctor me up?"

Despite myself I smiled at his halfhearted flirting. "I reckon I have to," I said as I picked up the roll of bandages. "No one else is likely to do it."

"Ha ha," he muttered, slowly easing himself upright by the elbows to make it easier for me to bandage his ribs. "You know, you're a funny girl- for a Curtis that is."

"Oh, quit your whinin' and sit still," I scolded lightly, leaning closer to him as I reached my arms around his waist to start wrapping the bandage around his torso. My fingers brushed his skin more than once, making my pulse quicken, and when I smoothed out a crease in the bandage, I felt his heart racing under my palm.

It was sort of reassuring to know that I had the same affect on him that he did on me.

"There," I said, smiling as I finished securing the bandages. "That ought to hold ya over for now."

I moved to pull my hand away, but Steve's own hand closed over mine, keeping it pressed gently to his side. I swallowed hard, lifting my gaze to meet his dark, swirling eyes. He was feverish, but there was something else making him look at me that way. Something reckless and dangerous, and Lord help me, it was exciting.

Tilting his head, he leaned down and captured my lips in a soft, lingering kiss that made my stomach flutter. When I opened my eyes as I pulled back, I found his own dark eyes gazing down at me with a soft expression that took me by surprise. He glanced at something past me, and he smirked a little, albeit nervously.

"Remember how I said I was gonna tell Soda about us?" he murmured ruefully.

"Yeah," I said breathlessly.

"I think he knows," he said softly.

Sure enough, when I turned my head to look I found not only Soda, but Darry and Two-Bit, all three of them gawking at us like we'd just grown an extra head or something. My stomach fluttered again, this time in anxiety, but I didn't have the heart to glare at Steve when I knew how hard this was for him.

Apparently, it was hard for Soda, too. "What the hell are ya doin', Steve?" he demanded angrily, taking an angry step forward, his brow furrowed and his eyes blazing.

"Kissin' your sister," Steve replied without missing a beat, but he didn't look overly thrilled at having to answer that question.

Soda seemed taken aback by that, and he opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, growling in frustration. "Why the hell would ya do a thing like that?"

"If you don't know, man, we should be havin' a whole 'nother conversation," Two-Bit muttered.

"Shut your trap, Two-Bit," Soda and Darry snapped in unison, and Two-Bit complied, taking a swig of his beer as he settled back in his chair to watch the drama unfold. "Elizabeth," Darry said evenly, fixing me with a deadly serious gaze. "I think you'd better start explainin' things."

Biting my lip, I glanced over at Steve, who squeezed my hand discreetly, then sighed, turning back to Darry. "I don't see what's so hard to understand here, Darryl. It don't take a genius to see that Steve and I have been seein' each other."

Soda looked like he was about to explode, but Darry held up a hand, silencing him. "For how long?" Darry wanted to know, speaking in that grim, low voice that doesn't let on a thing about what he's thinking or feeling.

"Not long," Steve answered, and I had to admire his courage for speaking at all given the heated glares my brothers were throwing in his direction. "Just about a week."

"A week?" Two-Bit whistled and raised his beer in salute, sounding amused. "Boy, you got nerves of steel pullin' somethin' like this."

Steve tensed, like he wanted to glare at him, but he didn't take his eyes off of Soda. "It ain't like I meant for this to happen, Sodapop. It's just one of those things... I couldn't help it, man."

I'd never noticed before, but Soda's eyes were really almost black at times, they were that dark. I wondered if mine did that, too. He was angry, that was obvious, but there was more to it than that. He felt hurt, betrayed, that Steve had gone behind his back, and we all knew it.

"I was gonna tell you," Steve said quietly, his voice suddenly soft and vulnerable. "Sodapop, I-"

He never got to finish, because at that moment the front door banged open, and in staggered a very dirty, bloody, and disoriented Ponyboy. Every head in the room snapped in his direction, and immediately Steve and I were all but forgotten.

"Where have you been?" Darry demanded. "It's late, Ponyboy, you can't just..." he trailed off, seeing the pale look on Pony's face. "Ponyboy, what's the matter?"

Pony was trembling now, his eyes glossy as they darted around the room, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. "Johnny... he's dead," he rasped, and my blood ran cold at those words. "We told him about beatin' the Socs and... I dunno, he just died."

A stricken silence fell over the room, and for a long moment no one so much as breathed.

Soda whimpered, his lips curling up as if he was about to burst into tears. Two-Bit's eyes were closed and he was clenching his teeth furiously, fingers digging into his palms, as if he was fighting the truth, as if by refusing to believe it he could somehow keep Johnny alive.

I closed my eyes tightly, but the tears slipped past anyway. I wasn't surprised, I had known when I left the hospital that Johnny was worse off than any of the others realized, but I hadn't expected him to die so soon, so suddenly. I'd thought there would be time for the others to visit with him, for everyone to say goodbye. Darry, Steve and Soda hadn't even been able to get over to the hospital yet, because of work.

And now it was too late, Johnny was gone.

"Dallas is gone," Ponyboy rasped. "He ran out like the devil was after him. He couldn't take it. He's gonna blow."

Of course he was gonna blow, why did anyone expect anything else from him? Johnny was the only thing Dally had ever loved, and without him...

"So he finally broke," Two-Bit muttered. "So even Dally has a breaking point."

I was tempted to shoot him a glare, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Ponyboy. He was shaking something fierce now, and even from across the room his skin look clammy and pale.

"Soda, Darry," I whispered frantically, drawing their attention to our little brother.

"Ponyboy," Soda said softly, like he was talking to an injured animal. "You look sick. Sit down, will ya?"

Ponyboy backed away, almost frightened, shaking his head. "I'm okay," he insisted, even though it was clear that he wasn't. "I don't want to sit down."

Darry and Soda exchanged a worried glance, and then Darry took a step towards Ponyboy, but Pony darted back, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Don't touch me," he gasped out, pleading and desperate.

Two-Bit was watching him with fearful eyes, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve struggling to his feet, one hand clutching his side. He was watching us all, his eyes sweeping from Ponyboy to me to Soda and back, concerned and more than a little freaked out.

The phone rang, but nobody so much as glanced at it. When it rang again, I turned my head to look at Steve, gesturing at the phone. He nodded, and moved across the room to answer it. "Yeah?" he said into the receiver. After a pause, he replied, "No, this is Steve. Dally?"

That got our attention, and everyone's gazes shifted to the phone now, instead of Ponyboy, and that seemed to calm him down a little, because his breathing slowed down some.

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, and held the phone out to Darry. "He wants you."

As Darry took the phone, holding it up to his ear, Steve moved over to stand between me and Soda, but none of us spoke. We were all watching Darry, our hearts racing and pulses pounding, dreading what he might have to say when he hung up the phone.

"Hello?" he asked, and then he was quiet for a long moment, and emotions played across his face as he listened to Dally talk. His brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together in a thin, grim line. His shoulders tensed up, the way they do when he's really worked up about something, and I knew then that something was really wrong.

"Yeah. Sure, Dal, we'll be right there," he promised into the phone, then hung it up quickly and spun to face us, his eyes frightened. "Dally held up a grocery store, the cops are after him."

"We gotta hide him," Two-Bit cried.

Darry nodded, starting for the door. "He'll be in the lot in a minute."

We hurried out the door, taking the steps in running leaps, and broke into a sprint as soon as our feet hit the pavement. Even Steve, with his three broken ribs, was running as fast as he possibly could, and distractedly I wondered how he could stand the pain.

Ponyboy is the track star, but we're all pretty good runners. We used to have races in the summer when we were younger, seeing who could sprint from one end of the block to the other the fastest. It normally took about two minutes to get to the lot if we were walking at a normal pace, a minute if we ran flat out the whole way.

We were pushing it for time, and I think we all knew it. The cops were right on Dally's heels, and he didn't have much time. We had to get there in time, we just had to. That was why he'd called us, after all, so we could hide him.

But as we ran, a horrible thought swept over me, and I wondered suddenly if maybe Dally hadn't called for another reason. If maybe we weren't supposed to be there to save him, but to see it end.