Chapter Twenty-Two:


The doctor came and went, leaving behind orders for Ponyboy to stay in bed for the next week, which didn't sit too well with my baby brother, but Darry saw to it that he stayed put. The first day or so, Pony mostly slept, but after that he was restless, unhappy about being cooped up in bed all day.

Johnny had given the nurse his copy of Gone With the Wind, requesting she see it to Ponyboy, so she had handed it to him before the doctors let him check out of the hospital, but it was still sitting untouched on the table beside his bed. He hadn't really even looked at it, as far as I knew, but I guess that was to be expected. He was taking Johnny's death badly, and everyone was walking on eggshells around him, taking care not to mention either Johnny or Dally or anything, for fear he might relapse.

Still, I hated seeing him so bored, so I'd picked up a crossword puzzle book while I was getting the groceries at the store, hoping it might give him something to do for a while. Normally when we do the shopping, Darry and I drive over together, but I'd only wanted to get a few things today, so I'd walked to the grocery store around the corner.

Glancing down at the bags I was carrying, I mentally appraised the amount of food I'd bought for dinner, and decided that it was definitely enough to feed six people, even with boys who ate as much as the ones in our gang.

As I was crossing the street to the house, I noticed a blue Mustang slowing down as it approached. Stepping up onto the sidewalk, I shifted the bags in my arms, staring at the car expectantly as it came to a halt on the curb.

The door opened and out climbed a tall boy about Soda's age, dressed in a pair of khakis and a navy shirt. "Can I help ya with somethin'?" I demanded, and was pleased to see him shift a little, looking a bit nervous.

"Yeah," he said, stepping forward after a moment of hesitation. "My name is Randy Adderson."

"I know who you are," I said coolly. "What do ya want?"

"I was, uh, hoping I could speak to Ponyboy for a bit?" Randy replied, running a hand through his sandy hair. "If he's up to visitors, that is."

He was up to visitors, of course, and plenty of kids from school had dropped by to see him over the past week, but I wasn't going to tell Randy that. Instead I studied him for a long moment in silence, trying to read him. I didn't know what it was he wanted with Pony, but something about him struck me as being sincere.

"I reckon that'd be okay," I said at last. "I'm Lizzie, Ponyboy's sister."

"Yeah, I know," Randy said with a rueful smile. "You used to be on the diving team, right?"

Startled, I nodded. "Yeah, I was," I confirmed, starting up the driveway, gesturing for him to follow.

"Here, let me help you with those," Randy offered, reaching for the bags in my arms.

For a moment I bristled, tempted to snap that I didn't need any help, but I bit my tongue, realizing that he was just trying to be nice. "Thanks," I said, smiling a little as he took the bags from me. "I appreciate it."

"My pleasure," he said, following me up the steps and onto the porch.

Opening the front door, I found Darry sitting in his armchair, reading the paper. He looked up as we came inside, raising an eyebrow when he saw Randy. "Where ya been?" he asked me.

I gestured to the grocery bags Randy was holding. "The store," I replied shortly.

"Who's your friend?" Darry asked, rising to his feet and giving Randy a cool once-over.

"He's here to see Ponyboy," I told him, reaching over to take the bags from Randy. "Thanks again for the help," I said, then slipped away into the kitchen, leaving Darry to handle things. As I started to unpack the groceries, I heard Darry leading him down the hall towards Pony and Soda's bedroom.

"Ponyboy?" his voice drifted down the hall. "There's a guy here to see you, says he knows you. His name is Randy."

"Yeah, I know him," Ponyboy's reply was muted, but still audible.

"You want to see him?"

"Yeah," Pony answered, sounding okay with the idea. "Sure, why not?"

A few minutes later, Darry came to join me in the kitchen, a grim look on his face. He didn't look to happy about Randy being there, but I didn't feel like arguing about it with him, so instead I merely shoved a bag of potatoes into his hands for him to put away in the pantry.

"What did ya go to the store for anyhow?" he asked, as he helped me unload the bags.

"I'm makin' a nice dinner tonight," I declared without looking up from what I was doing. "To celebrate Ponyboy's recovery. I figured we could all use some cheerin' up and all."

"I reckon you're right about that," Darry grunted.

"Of course I am," I said dryly. "I'm always right."

Darry snorted, but didn't reply.

"Where's Sodapop?" I asked, setting aside the chicken on the counter. "He should be home by now."

"He is," Darry responded, reaching over my shoulder to place the bag of rice next to the chicken. "I think he's still in the shower. He really needed some cleanin' up after work today."

Eyeing his dusty clothes and the dirt streaked across his cheek, I wrinkled my nose playfully. "I could say the same to you."

"Ha ha ha," Darry said, swatting me lightly with the loaf of bread before depositing it with the rest of tonight's food. "You're a real riot, princess."

"I try," I quipped, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a baking dish for the chicken. "As soon as Soda gets out of the shower, tell him to get in here and give me a hand, will ya? Then you go and shower up yourself for dinner."

Darry raised an eyebrow at that, but I just glared right back, and he finally raised his hands in surrender. When he left the room, I grinned to myself, then set about starting dinner.

About five minutes later, Ponyboy's shrill voice echoed through the house. "Johnny is not dead!" he cried angrily. "Johnny's not dead!"

Biting my lip so hard I tasted blood, I closed my eyes, taking a few deep, slow breaths to try and steady my nerves. I was about to head back and see what was going on, but Darry was already taking care of it.

"Hey, Randy? I think you better go now."

"Sure," Randy's voice agreed, and I peered out of the kitchen as they came into the living room.

"Don't ever say anything to him about Johnny," Darry ordered quietly. "He's still pretty racked up mentally and emotionally. The doc said he'd get over it if we gave him time." Looking in my direction, he asked, "Lizzie, show him out, will ya?"

"Right," I said, wiping my hands on a dishtowel and then leading Randy out the front door and onto the porch. Once the door was shut behind us, I grabbed him by the arm. "What did ya say to him?" I hissed.

"Nothing," Randy said, looking bewildered. "I just said that I didn't think he'd get into any trouble with the judge, seeing as how it was his friend who had the knife, and then he started talking nonsense. Saying that it was him who did it, who killed Bob... I don't know what he's babbling on about, we both know it was that Johnny kid."

"It wasn't your fault," I sighed, shaking my head in frustration. "Ponyboy's been... out of it ever since Johnny died. Sometimes it's like he thinks if he keeps denying it enough, it will make it untrue, ya know?"

"Yeah," Randy said softly, looking down at his feet. "I do."

And I reckon he did. After all, Bob had been his best friend. How many times in the weeks since the incident in the park had Randy tried lying to himself, denying that Bob wasn't gone forever?

"Thanks for comin' to see him," I said, forcing a smile.

"I needed to do it," Randy murmured, then looked at me with a frown. "You said you were on the diving team. Why aren't you diving this year?"

"Can't be wastin' my time divin' when there's work to be done," I said with a shrug. "We need the money."

Randy shook his head. "That's a shame, I've seen you dive once or twice, you were really good." Before I could respond, he was trotting down the steps and headed towards his car. I stared after him for a moment, then slipped back into the kitchen.

I was filling up a pot with water to make rice when the front door banged open. "Anybody home?" Two-Bit called, even though he knew perfectly well that there was. The car was out front, after all, and with Ponyboy sick there was always someone at the house.

"In here," I called back, and a moment later he appeared in the doorway with Steve at his heels. "Hi," I said, flashing him a smile. "Get in here and help, you bums."

"Yes, ma'am," Two-Bit said with a lazy smirk. "What do ya want us to do?"

"Cut up the bread, will ya?" I asked, gesturing to where it sat on the counter. Without waiting for an answer, I put the pot of water on the burner. "Steve, when this water starts boilin', I need ya to put the rice in for me."

"Sure," he nodded, leaning in to kiss me quickly, then heading over to get a wooden spoon from one of the drawers. "What was that Soc doin' here?"

"Came to see Ponyboy," I replied, checking on the chicken in the oven. "He's one of the guys who was with Bob Sheldon the night they jumped Pony and Johnny in the park."

"Marcia's boyfriend," Two-Bit muttered.

"What'd he want with the kid?" Steve asked, tapping the spoon on the palm of his hand absently as he waited for the water to heat up.

"To talk," I said with a shrug. "About the trial and all, I guess. Ponyboy got a bit riled up, started sayin' that he'd been the one to kill Bob and all. I think he gave Randy a good scare for a bit."

There must have been something in my tone that hinted at my concern over that, because Steve looked up from the pot of water to meet my gaze. "The kid's gonna be fine," he said in a gentle tone, the kind he doesn't use very often. "Don't worry, he's tough enough. He'll pull through just fine, I reckon."

"Yeah," Two-Bit agreed with a grin. "Lord knows how Darry's got the kids to stay in bed this long! I'd be squirmin' like a worm on a fishin' hook by now if it were me."

"If it were you, we'd have to tie ya down to the bed to keep ya there," Soda drawled as he entered the room clad in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt which he'd left unbuttoned. His hair was still damp, proving that Darry had been right about him being in the shower. "What ya makin', princess?"

"Dinner," I said with a smirk. "What's it look like?"

"And we're helpin'," Two-Bit added dryly. "Which is more than I can say for you, ya bum."

Soda stuck out his tongue at him, moving over to get the chocolate milk out of the refrigerator. "Looks like quite a spread ya got worked up here, Sis. What's the occasion?"

"Don't drink outta the bottle," I snapped as he started to raise the milk to his lips. "And there's no real occasion, just thought it would be nice to celebrate Ponyboy's recovery."

"Any excuse to eat is fine by me," Soda retorted, begrudgingly putting the milk down and searching for a cup.

"Ain't that the truth," Steve snickered, stirring the rice. I grinned in his direction as I pulled the chicken out of the oven, and he placed the spoon down, coming over to help me clear a spot on the counter for the chicken pan.

"Thanks," I said as I set it down.

Steve didn't say anything, just offered a small smile as he reached out a hand to brush a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb traced the curve of my jaw gently, and my breath hitched slightly at the look in his eyes. Swallowing, I rose onto my toes to kiss him, but was interrupted by a loud groan from Soda.

"Do ya'll hafta do that while I'm eatin'?" he demanded.

Turning, I found him already eating some of the bread Two-Bit had cut up for dinner. "Quit that," I scolded, swatting him with the dishtowel on the counter. "That's for dinner."

"So, it's dinnertime," Soda shrugged. "And I'm starvin'."

Sighing, I shoved his hand away as he reached for more bread. "Go get Darry and Ponyboy, then, and we'll eat." Turning back to Steve and Two-Bit, I rolled my eyes. "Brothers, what a pain."

"You think brothers are bad, try havin' a mouthy kid sister," Soda called over his shoulder as he headed down the hall to get Pony and Darry.

"I ain't a kid," I yelled back.

"No, but ya sure are mouthy enough," Two-Bit smirked.

"Like you have room to be talkin'," Steve snickered.

Two-Bit lifted a piece of bread, narrowing his eyes like he was contemplating throwing it at Steve, but I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Don't even think about it, pal!"

"He started it," Two-Bit muttered.

"Oh, right," Steve snorted. "Blame it on me."

"Ya could stand to-"

"Would you two quit your yappin' and help me set the table?" I demanded.

"Of course, madam," Two-Bit said with a dramatic, and terribly sarcastic, bow. "Your wish is our command, right, buddy?"

"Sure," Steve shrugged. "Besides, if we don't, she won't feed us."