Thank you to all who told me what grade Pony was in. I just didn't know since here, Junior High/Middle School is from 7-9, and High School starts at 10th and goes through 12th. Thank you all!

Resources:

http://teenagerstoday.com/resources/articles/mutilate.htm

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Steve stared at his "best friend" Soda, who was sitting on a chair near the door of DX gas Station. On his lap he had different pamphlets that Two-Bit had brought over earlier that morning.

Steve sighed and wiped his greasy hands on his pants.

Of course Soda was still mad at him…a might be for a long time.

*

Soda kept his mind on the pamphlets, and not the boy who was looking at him. Steve had apologized many times since Sunday but his only reply was:

"Maybe you should say that to my little brother, and not me."

He had read 3 of the pamphlets so far, the first was on Breakdowns, the second was on Depression and the one he was reading was about a thing called Self-mutilation.

'A disturbing situation has emerged among teens: the practice of self-mutilation." He read, 'Teenagers who self-mutilate -- overwhelmingly girls and a quantity of boys-- are inflicting pain and injuries on their own bodies. While it's estimated that only one percent of the American population self-mutilates, the emotional issues that drive them -- and the physical fall-out from such practices as cutting and burning -- make self-mutilation a serious problem.

Cutting is but one of the self-mutilating behaviors adolescents may exhibit. Other common practices of self-mutilating behaviors include burning, bruising, breaking of bones (especially digits), picking at the skin or "wound interference" (the practice of producing a wound and not allowing it to heal).There is no stereotypical person who will choose to mutilate his or her own body. But experts say it's a process that stems from the inability to deal with stress or intense emotions.

"Self-mutilation is a desperate attempt to have some control over unbearable feelings of aloneness, loneliness and helplessness," says Dr. Margaret Paul, therapist…. "When a teen or young adult has not learned healthy ways of managing these intense feelings, they turn to physical pain as a way to blot out the emotional pain or gain a sense of control over the pain they feel. In a strange way, they are really not trying to hurt themselves -- they are trying to protect themselves from something even more painful than the physical pain.'….

Soda placed down the pamphlet not wanting to read anymore. "My brother is not alone…he has me and Darry. Nothing's wrong with him." He thought to himself, yet he wasn't able to shake the feelings off of him that something wrong was going to happened that day.

He stood abruptly letting the other pamphlets fall to the ground.

Suicide, one read as it-alone-flew away.

&^&^&

"I can't believe Marcus won against that Curtis kid!"

"Hey! I always won before he came along! I guess the finally realized that I'm Number One!"

"Yeah, sure. If you ask me, he let you win."

"But I didn't ask you, did I?"

The group of five walked right past me laughing but I remained unnoticed

Sighing with relief and anger I sat on the bench in front of my locker, breathing heavily. I stuffed my running clothes into the locker, then slammed it shut.

Failure, that's what you are. A big time failure…second place. You're so called big break came and you fucked it up didn't you!

I winced, as the voice continued to curse at me, it was right. I'm nothing but a failure and a burden…

Why don't you do everyone a favor then, Ponyboy? You know they would be better off without you.

It was the lady, she always said my real name even though she said it in a tone of disgust. She was right too, the gang didn't need me. They needed Johnny…and even Dally. They didn't need Ponyboy Curtis.

I walked down the corridor and past the empty shower room, to the bathroom. I went into one of the pale yellow stalls, and quietly shut it behind me.

Do it Ponyboy, just end it.

I took the razor from my back pocket a flipped it open.

That's it Ponyboy…

I stared at it for the longest time. The razor was a prized possession to me, almost like Two-Bits fancy jet-handled switchblade.

Yes…do it Ponyboy. End it right here and now.

I didn't want to cut on my legs anymore, anyway they were too messed up anyway.

Doesn't matter where…just get a nice big vein Ponyboy…a nice and big one. The bigger…the quicker.

I stared at my pale arms…

…It won't matter if anyone saw Ponyboy…you'll be gone. You won't have to worry about the brick wall anymore.

The brick wall, the one thing I was scared of.

If I didn't kill myself…I knew it would!

I pressed the blade down on the once untouched and "innocent" skin. I followed one of the largest arteries on my arm. Then I repeated the process on my other arm.

It was cool how blood looked green under the skin when it was inside your body, but then it changes red when it comes out.

…that always amazes me.

There the artery is opened, and the blood is pouring out. More then I had expect.

Now…just wait.

I leaned against the cool metal of the stall and I close my eyes.

"To be or not to be, that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?."

I recited Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, that was written by Shakespeare. People have mocked the "To be or not to be" line…mostly Two-Bit. I remembered when he was looking through the fridge at our house.

"To be or not to be!" He had said "Shall it be beer with thy chocolate cake, or maybe chocolate milk. Ah. Thy beer call-est out my name."

The others had laughed to it…no me, he didn't understand what Hamlet was saying.

He was saying would it be dignified to let yourself suffer and live, or just be a coward and end it all. Just…to end everything.

But I'm not noble, or dignified…I'm nothing. Just a coward.

…and a murderer.

Yes, a murderer. How could've forgot that!

In the distance I heard the bell ring, signaling all the students to go to their fourth block class.

Not me!

I let out a chuckle "Gosh, I worked on that assignment for English, now I won't be able to turn it in."

I sighed.

I felt awfully tired…but not a sleepy tired, that confused me.

I wanted to stand but I found that my legs didn't want to work.

I looked down to see that the blood running from my arms had soaked through my jeans turning them a midnight/scarlet color, and was forming a pool around me.

"How much blood is in a persons body?" I wanted to get up and go find the Physics teacher and ask him, but yea right.

Things were getting hazy…and spots were forming in front of my eyes.

"Curtis!"

Shit! It sounded like my head coach, Mr. Clemmons.

"Curtis you in here?"

How'd he know I was still here?

You left you bag and crap in the locker room you fucking Idiot!

"Oh my.." Coach Clemmons was standing in front of the stall, and the door was yanked open.

"Ponyboy!" He screamed kneeling beside me, "What the hell have you done?" I guess it wasn't a real question. He grabbed my right arm while unrolling tissue.

"Y-you're wasting paper…" I mumbled out, looking at him a small smirk on my lips. "Coach Clemmons, I-I didn't let--I didn't let Marcus win…I was just tired…so-so tired."

"Curtis, what the hell are you talking about!" He pressed the tissue to both my arms, and immediately they were soaked. "Shit!" He pressed more tissue on my arms. "Someone call the paramedics!" He screamed, moments later another Coach came in.

"Charles is on the phone with them, they are coming." He said kneeling beside us. He cursed words as well, I just smiled.

"Do me a fa'or. Turn in my En'ish w-work…" I closed my eyes, "plea'e…"

*

The pamphlet, Suicide, blew by a black roofing truck as Darry placed a bundle of tiles onto the back of the truck. He wiped his forehead, then gave a slight shiver. He was sweating, and the air was cold…not the best combination.

A ambulance sped past them, "I wonder where they are going." One of his partners said, pushing the tool box down the bed of the truck.

"Not sure, but they're in an awful hurry."

"Yea, looks like they're going towards the school. Hope nothin' happened to the kids. My niece goes to THS."

"Yea, so does Pony…" As he said that his face paled, and his heart seemed to sink to his stomach.

*

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Well, that is the REAL chapter 3! How was it…kinda choppy? Anyone have any ideas? If so, leave them in a review.

Also, I want to write another fic (with angst) anyone have any ideas?