White. White walls, white seats, white floor, white ceiling. White everything. I feel dirty surrounded by all this white. I hate white at the best of times, reminds me of hospitals and I sure ain't too fond of then, but right now I fell like its' closing in on me, blinding me with its' dazzling brightness.
Suddenly the double doors at the end of the corridor fly open and Darry's standing there, arms folded across his massive chest and a scowl on his face. I look up at him and gulp, suddenly this white world with its' white walls and white everything doesn't seem so bad.
He strides straight past me to the desk and begins confirming details, umming and arring and signing forms. I see Sodapop hovering by the door, obviously having been told by Darry to stay put but finding it difficult.
"Get up." Darry barks and it takes me a minute to realise he's talking to me. I uncurl myself from where I've been laying across the row of seats and staggered up, shoving my hand in my pockets while he grabs hold of my upper arm. He's squeezing it too hard, like he thinks I'm about to make a run for it, but then Darry's always rough with me without meaning to be. I look up at his face, at the way he's grinding his teeth together and the way a vein is throbbing on his neck and I think maybe just this once, he does mean to be.
Darry explodes as soon as we get out of the station just as I knew he would. Darry likes to give the impression that he's completely in control, especially around official looking people, but even Superman loses his cool sometimes.
"What the hell were you thinking? Oh sorry, stupid question. You weren't thinking at all were you, because you never do! Jesus Christ Ponyboy, you've got about as much sense as a two year old. You're lucky the whole street didn't burn down…"
I let him go on like that until he finally realises that I'm not listening and people are staring at us. "This ain't over," he growls, putting his face close to mine. "You're gonna learn that actions have consequences."
He grabs hold of my hand and starts walking. I snatch my hand away and stare at him. What the hell was he doing? I'm thirteen not six. Darry turns to look at me, raising one eyebrow in a 'what's the matter?' sort of way. He takes my hand again, this time gripping it harder.
"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to pull my hand away but failing.
"Come one," he says, as if I'm the one being weird. "We're going home." I just stare at him. "Ponyboy come on, I'm not gonna stand here all night arguing with you."
"I don't need you to hold my hand. I can walk by myself Darry."
"No you can't." He said simply, and yanked me after him. I went stumbling.
"Darry seriously, I can walk on my own, I'm not a little kid!" I pulled back against him, digging my heels into the ground and forcing him to stop. Had he finally lost it? Did he really think I was going to let him hold my hand like some toddler?
He spun round, looking like he could've spit nails. "If you act like a little kid Ponyboy, I'll treat you like one. Actions have consequences. Now get a move on!"
I look pleadingly at Soda who had been trotting meekly behind us.
"Darry…" he started. Darry turned on him to, man, he must really be mad.
"What?" he snapped. "What're you gonna say Sodapop? I'm just walking my little brother home. I'm not hurting him and he's not in any danger so what's the problem?"
Soda shrugged apologetically at me as Darry strode off, dragging me along after him and leaving Soda to straggle after us.
Now, I don't know if you've ever been dragged home holding you're big brother's hand, but let me tell you, it's embarrassing. It wasn't even properly dark yet, the whole world could see. I kept expecting Tim Shepard and his gang to drive past any minute. Now, I'm kinda small for thirteen and could probably pass for a ten or eleven year old which I guess isn't so odd, but I still felt like everybody we passed was staring at us.
At first I tried fighting Darry, digging my heals in and pulling back, hoping he'd get tired and give up. But of course he didn't. Then about half way home I realised that I was only drawing more attention to us and quit it straight away. I started walking real close to Darry, hoping people wouldn't notice he was holding my hand and just think we were walking together.
Darry hardly glanced at me the whole way home, except to sigh and raise his eyebrows as he yanked me back from stepping straight into the path of a speeding mustang as we crossed the road. I really felt lousy and to tell you the truth, by the time we got home I was just about ready to start bawling my eyes out.
As soon as we got through the door he began hauling me toward the kitchen.
"Hey quick, someone call the cops, there's an escaped convict among us!" Two-bit roared with laughter as Steve smirked and Johnny stared.
"One word…" Darry warned, tugging me on from where I'd stopped. I wasn't going to say anything anyway, there's nothing in the world you can say that'll shut Two-bit up.
Once in the kitchen Darry pushed me forcefully into a chair and began pacing the floor like a caged animal. Steve sauntered in with Soda trailing behind. I watched as Steve pulled up a chair, settling down as if to watch some fantastic movie, grinning from ear to ear. Now, sometimes I can put up with Steve, sometimes I can't. Right now, I couldn't.
"Out!" Darry barked, pointing to the living room. "Both of you, now!"
I watched as they sloped off, leaving me completely alone with Darry. He went back to pacing, working himself up into a temper. The only sound was the jingly-jangly music of Micky Mouse floating through from the living room, matching my rattling nerves. Any minute now he's going to hit the roof, start hollerin' at me and scaring me to death. Any minute now…he slams his hand down on the table and so it starts.
He yells until he's hoarse and he's still going, rasping and spitting out words that slap me hard in the pit of my stomach. I'm crying, hot tears sliding down my cheeks no matter how hard I rub my eyes. Eventually he turns away from me, leaning on the counter and breathing hard. I take the opportunity to slip into the living room, if Darry's going to kill me I want witnesses.
They all stare at me as I flop down on the sofa, five pairs of eyes watching and waiting. They've got the tv turned right down, obviously having heard every word Darry said. I know I look a mess, but I'm fed up trying to wipe away tears that won't stop falling. Two-bit opens his mouth to say something but Darry beats him to it, planting himself directly in front of me, towering over me.
"Did I say you could go?" He asks. I don't say anything. He takes my arm and pulls me up. I sniff and won't look at him. "Go to bed." Now I look at him.
"It's six o'clock!" Surely he couldn't be serious; we haven't even had dinner yet.
"Get changed and get into bed." He says in the same tone.
"No," I whisper. What am I doing? No one ever says no to Darry.
"What did you say?" I can hear the hidden danger behind it, but I repeat myself anyway. He grabs my t-shirt and pulls me right up against his chest.
"I'm warning you Ponyboy, I'm in no mood for any of you're games tonight. Get to bed right now, before I really lose my temper." Before he loses his temper! He has some funny ideas that brother of mine.
When I still won't move, he raises his hand. Darry's never hit me, even when I've really been pushing my luck, but he often raises his hand like he's going to. Usually it works and I do as I'm told, but not this time. I'm thirteen years old for God's sake; I don't have to go to bed when he tells me. He's already shouted at me and embarrassed me, I've been punished enough.
"Darry…" Soda tries, but we both ignore him. It's like no one else is in the room, just me and him, Ponyboy and Darry.
I think he's going to slap my face, but he doesn't. Instead he pushes me away from him, not hard just sort of firm.
"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, you will go to bed when you're told. Now either you get your little butt up those stairs right now or I carry you up there myself. The choice is yours."
I didn't know what to do. If he'd hit me I could've run to Soda and he'd have sorted things out, made Darry feel guilty enough to apologise. But he hasn't hit me; he's giving me a choice. One part of me was thinking I still didn't want to do as he said and that I was sick of him bossing me around, I was a teenager and I could make my own decisions. But the more rational me was screaming 'yeah, how grown up are you gonna look when your big brother has to carry you up to bed?' I began to back out of the room.
"I'll come up and check on you, and you'd better be in bed." Darry called after me as a disappeared up the stairs.
I couldn't seem to stop crying, I'd just start to think I'd got it under control when fresh tears would spurt out from no where. I'm not used to crying and I didn't know how to make it stop. I dozed on and off until I heard footsteps on the stairs. I got worried, thinking Darry would be mad because I hadn't bothered to get changed or anything.
But it wasn't Darry, just Sodapop. I flopped back down onto the pillow, the sight of him making fresh tears fall although I didn't know why. I shoved my head hard into my pillow, not wanting him to see. If he did, he didn't say anything, just pulled off my jeans and socks before climbing into bed next to me.
"Soda?" I whisper into the dark. "Why didn't you stick up for me. I hate being hollered at? Why didn't you make him stop?"
He sighs a heavy sigh, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"I dunno Ponyboy. I guess sometimes, you just gotta let things come to a head…it's difficult…Hollerin' at you is just Darry's way of…I dunno. It's just well…it's complicated."
I felt his arms close around me and I snuggled down like I always did. But, for perhaps the first time in my life, I didn't want Soda; I wanted Darry.