On Friday, two weeks after Pony was taken from us, Sodapop and I decided that we would work as much as we were able. I was going to work from 7:30 in the morning, to 9:00 at night. Soda, was working 8:00 in the morning until 8:00 at night. It was a large load, and it was hard to get used to.

That night, I was exhausted when I got home. But work helped take my mind off the guilt of losing Pony and the thought that he was gone.

I noticed the answering machine was lit up, meaning we had a message. Soda was asleep on the couch, and I pressed the play button.

"Hey, guys, it's me, Ponyboy." At that, my heart quit beating. I quickly shook Soda awake, and the message continued.

"Um, I guess you're at work right now. I should have known that considering it's only two o'clock. But I had to call. I miss you guys so much. This place is horrible. I wish I could come home. Mrs. McCool came in to see me last week. She said, uh. . ." His voice broke, and I wished I could hold him.

"She said that, I would have to stay here, for another three years." He was sobbing now, and it broke my heart.
"Please, guys, I don't want to stay here. Take me home. Please, take me home. I hate it here. The nightmares are back, and these damn people don't even care. I don't eat, I don't talk, I just sit and sleep the day away. Please! Take me home!"

It was quiet for a minute, and I was afraid he'd hung up.

"Well, I guess you're doing all you can to get me back. Please, don't forget me. I love you. I have to go now. We only get a few minutes to talk. Bye. Oh, say hi to Two-Bit and Steve for me." There was a beeping sound, and then the line went dead.

Soda and I stood there, in shock and sadness. Poor Pony. It was worse than I expected. It really was killing him.

When I felt tightness on my arm, I turned to see Soda, squeezing my arm and crying into my shoulder. His heart was breaking, too. But it still wasn't as bad as Pony had it. He didn't have Soda, or me, or even Two-Bit to help him. He was all alone and only fifteen. Hearing his voice, I would have believed he was only twelve, or thirteen, like when Mom and Dad died. I really screwed up this time.

When the message was over, I broke into tears. I reached out for Darry's arm, and squeezed it tight, trying to will the pain away. My poor baby brother. He was having nightmares, and those creeps wouldn't even take care of him. It was horrible. What were we going to do?
Darry quietly pushed me to my room. I wished Pony was in there. But he wasn't.
Though upset, I fell asleep quickly.

I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing Soda yell, "Pony!"
I ran out of my room and into Soda's. He was sitting up in bed, crying into his pillow.

I sat next to him and asked gently, "Hey, little buddy, what's wrong?"
He looked at me, tears rolling down his cheeks, and said, "It was Pony."
"What?"
"Pony. He-he was alone, in a small bedroom. He was crying and crying, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get to him. I tried screaming his name, but nothing happened. When I tried to move, I couldn't. It was awful. I watched him cry more and more, and it killed me not being able to comfort him. I miss him so much." He said, sobbing more now.

"Easy, honey. You're all right. It was just a dream." I hugged him close and he sobbed into my shirt. I'd been here too many times. Why did this have to happen to our family? Why? What had we done wrong?