Serious A/N: Okay, I know that a lot of you peoples don't really like what I write about, and that's fine with me. But if you're gonna read it, then don't complain about what is written. You took the time to read it, so it's not my fault that you wasted your time reading my "B.S". So, if you do read this story, try to keep an open mind about, and don't be rude or mean. I'm writing for fun, not just to please people. I write my stories MY way. Besides, other people like these stories too. So be nice about it. Well, now that, that's over, please continue with the story. Enjoy.
Cabaret
"So, looks like you don't just 'have a sore throat' after all." Soda said, driving back home carefully.
"Well, it's not a big deal, Soda. One little cold ain't gonna kill me."
"No but if it worsens, it could be fatal. You heard what the doctor said."
"I know, Soda."
"Good. Now, when we get home, you got right up to bed. No ifs ands or buts about it. Got it?"
"Well..."
"Good. I hope Darry's got the heat going. I swear I'm gonna freeze my butt off. Or, what's left of it."
They were silent the rest of the way home. It took them a little longer than excepted because road conditions had worsened since morning. The blizzard was still acting up, and it was quite obvious that it's last for the rest of the day, and probably well into the evening hours. By the time Soda and Pony got home, there was about three and a half feet of snow on the ground. Ah, nice and warm... Pony thought as he entered his home.
"Now, get to bed," Soda said in a stern voice.
"Eh, I'm goin'. I'm goin." Pony muttered and walked up the stairs, surprised how tiring it was when he got to the top. Soda shook his head. Then, he walked towards the basement. Hmm, the light's still on. Wonder if Dar's still down there.
"Hey! Darry! You down there?" he called.
"No. It's Thomas Jefferson. Yes, it is me." Soda laughed as he made his way down the rickety, old stairwell. "So? How's Pony?"
"Cold. Could get serious if we don't watch it carefully."
"I figured it was something more than a mere sore throat. The little weasel. Doesn't want to worry us, but ends up doing so anyway."
"That's Pony for you. No matter what the problem is, he thinks he doesn't need our help anymore. He's growing up, Dar."
"I know. A little too fast for my taste."
Pony was lying in his bed, eyes heavy and needing sleep. After closing his eyes, he heard his door open. Groaning, he tried to keep his eyes open to see who it was. A grin spread over the red-head's face.
"Hi, Randy. What're you doing here? D'you come out here in this bad weather?"
"Well, I wanted to see if you were alright. Soda called me, said you weren't feeling too hot. And by the time on the clock and the way you look, I guess he was right."
"Aw, gee. Thank you so much Randy." Pony said in a sarcastic voice. "What time is it anyway?"
"5:35. You'd be getting up around this time."
"Yeah right! I'm too tired to stay awake." Randy smiled and sat down on the bed, beside Ponyboy.
"Then go back to sleep. Don't worry. I'll stay with you the whole time."
"Thanks Randy." And Pony closed his eyes, and went to sleep.