Disclaimer: the majority of characters belong to S.E. Hinton.


Chapter Two

I must have been more wiped out than I thought, because I woke up the next morning in the same position that I had been the night before. A glance around showed me that Steve and Two-Bit must have decided to crash at our place after the party last night. Or, more likely, Steve had decided to crash on the couch and Two-Bit had passed out on the floor.

It was 10 AM, and no one else was up, so I went into the kitchen to start cooking up some breakfast. We were all out of eggs, which meant that we'd be having pancakes and bacon instead.

I had just started putting the food on different plates when Ponyboy sleepily walked in from the porch outside. I figured he must've been watching another sunrise. He blearily rubbed his eyes and sat down at the table.

"Mornin'," I told him.

He nodded and mumbled a quiet, "G'morning." As he's gotten older Ponyboy's started talking more, but at the same time it seems like he and I talk less than ever. Ponyboy and I have a pretty strange relationship. We don't fight too much anymore, but that's mainly because we don't talk to each other too much either, other than me telling him to make sure to do his chores and homework and him saying that he will. Usually when we do talk, Soda's in the room. Soda's got no problem with telling me that he thinks that Pony and I should talk more, but Soda forgets two things: first, that Ponyboy and I aren't like him, and second, that even though he's eighteen, he's still my kid brother and it's me who's supposed to be tellin' him what to do.

"Good party last night?" I offered him a plate.

"Yeah." He accepted the plate and dug into his food. I brought my plate over and sat opposite him.

He swallowed some bacon and looked up at me. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah." I poured some syrup on my pancakes and stuffed a bite in my mouth.

We were both quiet for a while. Not too surprising.

"I, uh…I've been thinking…" Ponyboy started tentatively, breaking the silence.

"About what?"

"'Bout getting a job." He abruptly looked me straight in the eyes.

My first instinct was to tell him no. No way, no how, and he'd better quit his wishin' and get back to studyin'.

"Why?" I asked calmly. I learned a long time ago that it's better to keep calm and have a blank face. It throws people off, unnerves them.

"'Cuz I want to."

"Why do you want to?"

"The money. I wanna help you and Soda out. Ya'll have been payin' for me for the past four years. It ain't fair that I'm not helping out one bit."

I ate another piece of bacon, took a sip of chocolate milk. Pony was itchin' for me to say something, I knew, and it was buggin' him that I was taking so long.

"C'mon, Darry," he pleaded. I held up one finger to stop him, and finished chewing the pancake in my mouth. After a moment or two, I swallowed.

"Well, can I?" he asked impatiently.

"No."

He obviously hadn't been expecting me to deny him. "What? Why not?"

"Ponyboy, you've got more important things to concentrate on. How in the world are you gonna find time to work in between school and track and homework and all your chores? You just leave the workin' to Sodapop and me."

"I can handle it!" Ponyboy persisted. "I'm sixteen years old, Darry, I ain't a baby anymore! I can handle it, I swear!"

I finished my food and dumped my empty dish in the sink. "Well, then, start handling this, because I'm not giving you permission so you won't be working anytime soon."

"But-"

"Ponyboy, I don't want to hear any more of this. Unless you count doing your chores here, you ain't workin' nowhere, and that's the end of this. Understand?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm going out to the store to pick up some stuff. Tell your brother, if he ever wakes up."

Ponyboy didn't say anything. I saw him glaring at his plate and swearing under his breath as I walked out the door and into the old truck.

Sometimes that kid just doesn't use his head. There was no way that Pony could handle everything if he got a job, unless he was planning on cutting something out of his life. And what exactly did he have to get rid of? Not school, and I doubt he'll get rid of spending time socializin', and he sure as shootin' isn't going to be quitting the track team.

To be real honest with ya, there are times when I don't mind being the bad guy in Pony's mind, times when I was pretty darn sure that he'd be thanking me when he was older. This was one of those times.

I pulled into the store parking lot in about ten minutes and was walking into the store a moment later. Grocery shopping isn't exactly how I get my kicks, but I'm the only one in the house who can do it decently. Last time I told Steve and Two-Bit to go buy us some food, they came back with two six-packs of beer, some Pepsi, and enough Rice-A-Roni to last us for a year. We're still eating it now, and you better believe that they haven't done the shopping since.

The good thing was that it was reasonably early on a Saturday morning, and most of the people who live in our neighborhood have better things to spend their Saturdays doing than shopping. Since the store was empty, I was able to pick up the things I needed and get to the cashier quickly.

The girl working the cashier totaled up the totals for the food I bought. "That'll be $6.78," she said, sounding bored. I didn't blame her. She sure didn't seem to have a very exciting job, but maybe I shouldn't be talking.

I handed her the money, and as she took it from me she gasped and dropped the ten dollar bill on the counter. "Darry, is that you? Well, that's just something! I won't lie, I never thought I'd see you again!"

It took me a little while, but finally I was able to match her somewhat familiar face with a name, and when I did, I was a little surprised. "Penny. Penny Jackson."

"Yes indeed!" She smiled broadly, the smile that had made her prom queen and desire of every guy at our high school. When I saw her flash that smile, I wondered how she had ended up here, working as a cashier in the local grocery store.

It was almost like she read my mind, because her smile faded a little as she glanced down at her store uniform. "Things change, I s'pose."

Then I saw her look me over, and I figured then that she was thinking about how back then I had gotten a football scholarship to the University of Oklahoma and wondering what I was still doing around here. "Yeah, they do."

She picked up the ten dollars that she had dropped and handed me my change. As our hands made contact, she smiled at me again. "Tell you what, Darry; now that I know you're around, we are going to have to have lunch together some time."

I didn't see a point in telling her that I would probably be too busy to be able to, so I just shrugged. "That's fine with me."

"Good." Her eyes twinkled, and for a minute she looked almost exactly the same way she had in high school. "I do believe I still have your number, unless it's changed?"

We both looked away at that question, and I answered it quickly before the past could be dredged up. "Still the same."

She smiled warmly, and the slight tension faded away. "Good, that's good. Well, I hope I'll talk to you soon, Darry. Have a good one."

"You too, Penny," I told her as I walked out of the store, and I really meant it.

I thought about it on the way home. Penny was a sweet girl, definitely not your average broad. But still, I was having some reservations about the possibility of going out to lunch with her. I didn't know if I was willing to do that. Penny was a big reminder for me of my past, and I didn't know if I wanted that. If there was one thing that my mom taught me well, it was to move on with life and never look back. She and I were a lot alike in that respect.

The truck was low on gas, I noticed. I would have to remember to ask Sodapop to fill it up. Since he works full time at the DX, he gets a discount on gas.

I didn't have to keep that in mind for long, because the first thing I noticed when I walked into the house – besides the television blasting and the shower running – was Soda, sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on the table, eating a slice of chocolate cake. Two-Bit was nowhere, which meant that he had probably gone back to his own house after getting up.

As I walked past him I shoved his feet off the table. He grinned at me in typical Soda – fashion. "Hey Dar, what's shakin'?"

"You, if you spill any crumbs on the couch," I warned. He carelessly picked up his plate and took it to the kitchen.

"Fill up the gas the next time you go to work, alright?"

"Gotcha," he said through a mouthful of cake. "Say, Darry, hand me the milk, willya?"

I gave him the milk and a glass, and he sloppily poured the milk into the cup before shoving the carton back in my direction.

"Whatcha plannin' for today?" I asked, sitting down at the table across from him. It struck me that just a little while earlier, Ponyboy and I had been sitting in these exact positions. At that time, the atmosphere had been tense and not nearly as relaxed as it was now. I've always had a better relationship with Soda, partly because we're closer in age and partly because he's Sodapop.

"Me and Stevie are taking out some broads we picked up last night." He ran a hand through his hair (which didn't contain nearly as much grease as it would have two years ago – somehow, the whole greaser and soc thing had begun to fade out awhile ago and had never come back. While there were still the differences between the east and west sides, the titles "Soc" and "Greaser" weren't tossed around nearly as much as they once had been.) and grinned widely at me. "I'm tellin' ya, Dar, these ones are somethin' special."

I was glad to see Sodapop's love life working out for once. It seemed that, even for all his good looks and charm, he could never find himself the right girl. I hoped this one stuck. "Well, ya'll have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Shoot if we did that then we wouldn't have nothin' to do!" I couldn't help but crack a grin at that one. But what he said reminded me of something.

"Hey, Sodapop, you remember Penny Jackson?"

He screwed up his face in concentration, and finally nodded. "Oh, yeah, that real fine chick from school. Yeah, I remember her. Why?"

I got up from the table and leaned against the counter. "I met up with her today at the store."

"Really? That's something. I thought she would've been long gone by now." Sodapop leaned back on the back two legs of his chair and folded his arms thoughtfully.

"Me too."

"Hmm. Hey, didn't you have some sorta fling with her?"

"Yeah, something like that," I answered. I didn't want to go into it. Sodapop must've picked up on it, because he didn't dig any further.

"Well, I wonder what in the almighty universe she's doing here," he concluded. He had barely finished getting the words out when we heard the bathroom door open, signaling that Steve was out of the shower. Sodapop flashed me a crazy grin, and ran off to go jump on Steve. I answered his question anyway.

"So do I."