Chapter one
Aurora and I had been best friends since preschool. We met on the playground. Even though we were only little kids, you could already tell who was going to be a Greaser and who was going to be a Soc. Some to-be Socs were pushing me around and I fell and scraped up my knee. I was sitting on the pavement crying when she walked over. We started talking about how mean the kids were, and I guess we just hit it off. People thought it was cute that we were friends, and we lived right down the street from each other. Once we got to second grade, the teachers thought that we were going to grow apart, but we never did. Until last month, we were best friends, but I don't know where she is now.
Aurora's whole existence was kind of a mistake. Her mom had been an actress on Broadway. Apparently she had been really good because she had had dance and voice lessons her whole life and a scholarship to Julliard. The first show Aurora's mom had auditioned for was Les Miserables, and she got the part that she wanted. I don't remember what the part was; Aurora might have never told me. Anyway, for the next five years, until she was 27, Aurora's mom was a Broadway actress. One day, though, everything went downhill. Aurora's mom was dancing, and she broke her ankle. Since she had kept dancing while her ankle was healing, the bone didn't set right, and she couldn't do certain dance steps correctly. Because of that, none of the shows wanted her. She had been hanging out at a bar one night when a random guy started buying her drinks. The next thing Aurora's mom knew she was going to have a kid. Since Aurora's grandparents (her mom's parents) are very proper, they were ashamed of their daughter, and refused to take care of the baby or Aurora's mom.
So Aurora's mom moved to Tulsa and got a job in a classy restaurant. It pays OK, they're not starving or anything, but they'd have a lot more money if Aurora's mom didn't make Aurora take dance and voice lessons. She wants Aurora to have the life she never had or something. Aurora didn't seem to mind, in fact her hazel eyes would light up every time she talked about dancing or singing. She and her mom didn't get along though; if Aurora got a bad score at a dance competition, her mom would beat her up. She would also tell Aurora stuff like: "I was a better dancer than you are now," and one time while I was over she had said "I hate you! Get out of my house!"
Other than her mom, Aurora had a pretty good life for a Greaser. She even went to a private art school on scholarship. The other Greaser girls would call her a Soc, but I liked Aurora the way she was. She didn't wear the tacky red lipstick, or too much eye shadow, or too short skirts that I found appalling. Another memorable thing about Aurora was that she always did her solo dances to some punk rock group. That had gotten her famous on the dance circuit in the tri-state area. She had had staring roles in plays since she was eight, and I was always proud to call her my best friend.
Continued sessions with Doctor Murphy
DM- So Ponyboy, would you call Aurora an abused child?
PC- Yeah
Here there is a long pause
PC- Yeah, I guess so.
DM- You guess that she was an abused child.
PC- Yes.
DM- Did she ever tell you that her mom was often prone to spells of violence? That one of those spells was the cause of death for your parents?
PC- Don't say that!
DM- Say what, Ponyboy?
PC- Don't say that my parents are dead. I'm trying to think that they're still alive.
DM- You need to come to terms with reality, Ponyboy. You need to accept that your parents are dead, and Aurora ran away, and Aurora's mother killed your parents.
PC- Don't say that! Don't say that!
Here Ponyboy went into hysterics, and was given a tranquilizer and sent back to his room
End tape.
Excerpt from Ponyboy's Memory
Aurora and I were walking home from school. It was the last day of sixth grade for her, and seventh for me. I had skipped third grade, so I was a grade ahead of her.
"Ponyboy, I have something to tell you," Aurora said.
"Yeah," I said.
"I'm not going to be going to school with you next year," she said.
"What?" I asked.
"Mom's making me go to a private school. I have a scholarship and everything," she said.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I asked.
"I didn't know if I'd made it yet, and I didn't want to upset you," Aurora said.
"Well, you did upset me," I replied. Aurora had been one of my only friends at school then.
"Ponyboy, I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm sure you are," I replied. Then I started for home, leaving Aurora behind me.
I didn't talk to Aurora for two weeks. Those were the loneliest two weeks of my life. I just sat around the house, and went to the park a few times, but I don't remember much of what I did then. I remember that I missed Aurora, but I wasn't about to make up with her.
One day Aurora showed up at our house. I was in the room Soda and I shared, laying on the bed reading. I could hear mom open the door and say: "Hi, Aurora! We haven't seen you in a while." Mom really liked Aurora. She was happy that I was friends with her instead of some law-breaking hood.
"Hi Mrs. Curtis," Aurora said, "Is Ponyboy here?"
"Yes, he is, he's in his room," Mom replied.
"Thanks," Aurora said. I heard footsteps coming toward my room, and the door opened. Aurora was standing in the doorway.
"Hi, Ponyboy," she said.
"Hey," I said.
"Can I come in?" Aurora asked.
"Sure," I replied.
Aurora sat down on the bed next to me. "Look," she said, "I'm sorry, if I'd known…"
"I'm the one that should be sorry," I said.
"This never happened, OK," Aurora said. "We were never mad at each other; this whole fight didn't happen."
"Alright," I said.
We let it go at that, and we didn't fight for several more years.
Now
When I woke up, I was in my room at the Tulsa asylum. How did I get here again? I wasn't crazy, I knew I wasn't crazy. Crazy people hear voices, crazy people try to kill other people, and crazy people try to kill themselves.
I had tried to kill myself.
I was crazy.
My parents were dead, Aurora was gone, and I felt useless. I had tried to kill myself a week after my parents were buried. I looked down at my arms, the scratches from where I'd cut myself were still there. Am I insane? The answer came to me in just one simple word: Yes.
I was crazy because I hadn't talked to Darry, or Soda. I was crazy because I'd let Aurora run away. I was crazy because I'd left Two-Bit, Dally, Steve, Darry, and Soda. Everything is crazy. The world is crazy, and I'm the ruler of the world.
Now I'm laying here in this room that's all white. There are no sharp edges on any of the furniture to make sure no one cuts themselves. We aren't allowed to have forks or knives for the same reason, or pencils, for that matter. Whenever Darry and Soda came, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to them. They looked so sad; Darry looked like an old man, and according to Soda, he worked like one.
"He's dying Pony," he had said. "Maybe you can't see it, but this is killing him. Why can't you just get better?"
Why can't I just get better?
