For some reason, after I had that nightmare, I never had any more. I mean, I'd have the occasional one that I couldn't remember, but the nightmares slowed after that.

I felt better than I had in many days. It was good to be back to "normal."

Two-Bit came to see me the first week I was back home. He stayed with me when Darry and Soda started going back to work.

"So what was it like, Pony? Did you get to live a life of luxury?" He asked me one day. I didn't want to answer, because it was a stupid question. I laid in a hospital bed for three weeks with depression and a feeding tube up my nose, and he thinks I "lived the life of luxury."

"No. It was horrible."

"Yeah, well you didn't have Darry nagging at you, now did you?" He asked, with a laugh.

For the first time, I got mad at Two-Bit.

"Don't you ever say that again! Darry can't help he worries a lot! He has to work hard for us and he doesn't want to lose anyone he loves! It's not his fault. He doesn't mean anything by it!" I hollered at him, angered beyond anything I'd ever felt before.

Two-Bit looked shocked at my outburst. I got up from the couch and stomped off into my room. It was the last Two-Bit mentioned the boys' home or Darry nagging me.

I got to go back to school two weeks after coming home. By that time, I was off the feeding tube and eating more solids. I still didn't have a big appetite, but gradually it came back.

Darry and Soda didn't bother me about much. They just made sure I was eating and sleeping, and, well, living.

Things got better as time went on. But there was still something bothering me. Something I wouldn't, couldn't, tell Soda and Darry or it might destroy us.

Darry's Point of View

Slowly, we got our Pony back. I was more than thrilled when he came into the kitchen one morning, feeding tube gone, and said, "Mm. What smells so good?" He sat down and ate with us. When he first placed a piece of bacon in his mouth, I saw how his eyes closed, willing the food to stay down. The good news was, it did. It was a feeling of joy that couldn't be erased. We went to the hospital, returning their equiptment, and Pony didn't have to come back, unless needed.

He was much better now. He didn't snap at Soda and I, or anything like that. I still couldn't get over the feeling that something else was bothering him.

One day, I brought it up with Soda.

"Hey, Soda, is it just me, or do you think there's something bothering Pony?"

"No, I noticed it too. It's like he wants to say something, but doesn't know how."

"Yeah. I don't know what to do, though. Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"He doesn't talk to me much anymore. I mean, he'll tell me things that go on in the day, but that's it." Soda said sadly.

"I know. I wish he'd open up a little more. I think if he did, then we'd find out what's bothering him."

"If only." Soda sighed.

He was right. If only was the only thing we could say. I didn't expect Pony to open up, but if he did, I'd be willing to listen.

One day, I went home for lunch. I hoped Soda would come too so we could talk more about helping Pony, and soon my hopes came true.

Soda walked in the door, kicked off his shoes, and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Man, I'm beat. And it isn't even that late in the day. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the rest of my shift."

"You need to sleep more, little buddy." I replied with concern.

"I know. It's hard, though, because I'm always worrying about Po-" His words were cut off by the phone.

I was worried, because no one called us during the day unless it was bad news. So I picked up immediately.

"Hello." I said into the receiver.

Thanks for the explanations of the feeding tube, and thanks for not nailing me on it. I thought it was right, but I wasn't sure. Thanks to everyone.