Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns it.
A/N: As I said last time, thanks for the reviews. As to the lack of formality in the student/teacher interactions… well, I think if it were to happen like this at any time, the 1960's seems the most likely. The times they were a'changin' after all. So to continue…
As the month continued to progress, tensions seemed to settle down throughout the rest of the school. I wasn't hearing as many mutterings in the hallways, and as I kept my eye on Ponyboy, he seemed to be readjusting pretty nicely. But then the administration did something stupid. Something very stupid. Something so phenomenally absurd that it took every ounce of my willpower not to march into the principal's office and scream what are you thinking?
They planned a memorial service. But they only planned it for Bob Sheldon. There was no acknowledgement of Johnny, and considering how the trial had turned out and the way we all knew things had really gone down, it was pretty clear that Bob's parents' money was speaking a lot louder than the truth of the situation warranted. We all knew Johnny had saved those kids in the fire and died a hero, and we all knew Bob died because Johnny was protecting Ponyboy from him. But we also all knew that Bob's parents had more money than they knew what to do with, and in their understandably overwhelming grief, they insisted on the one thing they could still control. They wanted a memorial service, and they were paying for it. I just couldn't understand why the administrators conceded to their one request: if they were to give the school money in exchange for holding this service, then the school couldn't also hold a service for Johnny. It just didn't seem fair. And I knew I would not be the only person who felt that way.
On the day that the announcement was made, Pony wasn't in class. I knew he'd been in school because he'd passed me in the hall in the morning, but I didn't think he'd seen me. I assumed that this wasn't the first time he'd ever cut a class, but it was the first time he'd cut mine, and I had a knot in my stomach. Considering the relationship that he and I had started to develop, I guessed that he was probably too upset to deal with someone who would actually notice. I hoped I'd have a chance to talk to him that afternoon, but he somehow managed to avoid my radar, and I just figured that tomorrow would be a new day.
Well, it was a new day… a new day where he still didn't show up for English. And that's when I realized that he was probably more upset than even I'd imagined. I didn't want to drag the dean into a situation where I didn't think detention would solve a much larger problem, so I did something I normally save as a last resort. I called home. I did it in the middle of the day right after I'd seen Pony from a distance, so I knew he wouldn't be the one to answer.
I sat in the phone closet inside the English office and dialed slowly, sighing as I thought about how to handle this. Most phone calls home aren't necessarily pleasant, and I knew that this would probably be one of the more difficult ones.
The phone had rung four times, and I'd almost given up when, suddenly, someone answered.
"Hello?" It was a male voice, but I had no idea who it was. After reading Pony's theme, I'd come to realize that any of a number of people could be answering their phone at any given time.
"Hi, may I speak to Darryl Curtis, please?"
"Oh, he's at work right now. Can I take a message?"
"Sure. This is Mrs. Nelson, Pony's English teacher. Could you ask him to call me when he gets a chance?"
There was a momentary silence on the other end, and then the voice returned with a hint of worry.
"Hi, Mrs. Nelson. This is Soda, Pony's other brother. Is – is everything ok?"
I almost smiled. Pony's theme had made me really like Soda.
"Well, I should really speak to your older brother about this because he's technically Pony's guardian, but I will tell you not to worry. I'm sure everything will be ok." I tried to reassure him even though I knew how hollow those words could sound to someone who was pretty well-versed in the fact that things didn't have to always turn out ok.
He seemed to take me at my word, though, and said "Thanks. I'll tell Darry you called."
"Thanks, Soda."
We hung up, and I let out a deep breath. I just hoped this would resolve things before they got any worse.
