A/n: Hello everyone. This is Keira again with another story that might
raise a few eyebrows. I'm just letting everyone know now that I'm not out
to please anyone, but if you like this story I'm more than happy to
recognize your input. This story came to me after a somewhat similar
situation happened with a kid at school. It was originally going to be
Soda, not Pony, but I decided that Pony would be a lot more fun to write
about and Soda would be too...cliché? There are a few OCs in here, I'll be
honest now, but they aren't going to be sickeningly sweet characters. If
anything, you'll hate them. They won't be in that often either, I promise.
I don't like OCs that much so you can trust me. And just a heads up, I
haven't got a clue how long this'll be although I do know where it is going
and what will happen throughout it. So, we'll just have to see won't we?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of S.E. Hinton's characters or settings. I do own anyone you don't recognize and I do own the plot. I apologize now for anyone who claims to have had this idea first. I do not know of any others, please point them out if you would. I'd be interested to see how original the idea actually is.
Chapter One
A few months back, Soda decided that he was officially sick and tired of bumming rides off Darry and the gang and trying to work out a schedule when he'd be able to use the truck. It was frustrating for him to have to double check that he could have the truck for a date or that he would be able to get a ride home from various places. I didn't blame him by any means. He was twenty and without a car of his own. So, what did he do? What any warm blooded American boy would. He emptied his savings account into a promising old Cadillac and he and Steve spent all their spare time for two weeks fixing it up. It wasn't a looker – the old black paint was rusting in areas – but it ran beautifully. I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of it. I wanted one for myself. But he was Soda and he deserved it.
Luckily for me with my late track schedule at school, Soda agreed to pick me up every day after work. He got off just minutes before training was over, so it worked out perfectly. It was too much work for Darry to have to go out of his way to get me and neither of us minded Soda's newly appointed responsibilities. Most days we took little detours and went places to get cokes or milkshakes. He didn't mind if I drove either, which was nice for me. I had had my license for over a year now, but Darry never let me drive with him around. He always preferred having power over the truck, so I hardly ever got the opportunity to practice.
Today, however, I let Soda drive. I wasn't in the best of moods and I was a flat out bad driver if I was mad. Road rage came easily to me, surprisingly enough. It was days like these that I gave up the privilege. Soda could tell something wasn't right with my mood and was quick to stay in the driver's seat. He wasn't going to let anything possibly damage his precious car. I didn't say anything, but only climbed into the passengers side. It wasn't until we reached The Dingo that he said anything.
"Something happen at school?" He scanned the menu.
"No," I sighed and leaned my head against the window.
"At practice?" He turned to look at me. "What'd you want?"
"Large Pepsi," I answered. He must appreciate what little he had to try to break me. I let him order before telling him what was up. "Coach is thinking of taking me of Varsity."
"What?" he asked incredulously and sat back. "What for?"
I shrugged. "He says I'm not as fast as I used to be. Can't count on me keeping up with the rest anymore." I closed my eyes against the bright sun that began to shine through the corner of the window.
"Smoking too much?" He pulled the visor down and I opened my eyes again.
"I guess."
I knew this would happen some day, but I didn't know it would be so soon. After every match I used to tell myself that I would start weaning myself down to a pack a day and then hopefully get myself to as low as a pack a week. Maybe even quit all together. It never happened, though. It was harder for me to give up smoking than it was to face giving up track. I had managed to work myself down to a pack a day. Darry was grateful for that as much as I was. The expenses were getting too much for him. But after that I couldn't do it anymore. Pressures were getting to be too much, life in general was getting harder. Not to mention the simple fact of needed to smoke in front of others to look tough. Now I fluctuated between a pack and a pack and half a day. I was addicted and I didn't have enough willpower to go cold turkey.
"That sucks, man," Soda said after a moment's silence. "What're you going to do now?"
I shrugged. "I'll try and give it up, I guess. I don't know though."
"You won't know if you don't try."
I tried not to roll my eyes at the cliché comment. "I know, Soda."
A girl skated up to his window and handed him our drinks. He pulled out his wallet and I went for mine but he stopped me. "I've got it." She gave him back his change and we left.
"Thanks."
"Yup," he answered and sucked the foam off the top of his chocolate shake. He set it to the side while we drove home. It only took a few minutes and I was glad. I wasn't exactly up to talking or being out any longer. My day wasn't going to get better, even with Soda's attempts, and I just felt like getting home and figuring out what I was going to do about track. It was a big enough blow to me that I couldn't concentrate on much else.
As we went up the walk to the porch, we noticed a rusty red car parked in the drive way. It was hard to miss and I knew that I recognized it, but I wasn't making any connections as to whom it belonged to.
"Whose is that?" Soda asked.
"I don't know."
We quickly climbed the steps and made our way into the house, curious to see who had come over or who had gotten a new car.
Darry was sitting on the end of the couch, waiting with a look of unwelcome in his eyes. A girl, Libby, who I knew from school, sat on the other end with her hands crossed in her lap. She was a greaser girl, but a nice one. She was one of those girls that I'd prefer to hangout with over most others. I didn't have any particular feelings for her, but she was fun to be around. I had even asked her to a dance a few months back. I knew she would be a fun person to take and she thought the same of me I guess. Although, she did sort of ditch me and get plastered, she was an okay girl.
Only question was, what was she doing in my living room? I didn't mind that she was there; who was I to care? She had been to our house before, but that was when we were hangout in a group and we all went back to my house for ice cream or to watch movies. The atmosphere of the room was unsettling and I was starting to get slightly worried. Was something wrong?
"Pon?" Darry stood up. "I need to talk to you in the kitchen. Now." The tone of his voice was startling and sharp. He left and didn't wait to make sure I was following him. I looked from Libby who stared at her feet and to Soda whose eyes were wide with surprise. Did I do something wrong?
Without thinking much on it, I followed him. He was pretty mad about something and it was better to not push it when he told you to do something.
I looked behind me and tried to keep my voice on the lower end so Libby and Soda wouldn't hear me. "Darry, what –-"
He cut me off. "Ponyboy, what were you thinking? I can't believe you are that irresponsible!" he started to yell. "Where the hell do you come off doing shit like this! Do you –"
"Darry!" I tried to yell over him. "What are you talking about?!" I was SO confused...
He stopped and breathed deep and hard through his nostrils. He was attempting at keeping cool which he had obviously failed at doing just now. He looked me in the eyes and forced a weak smile. "That girl in there is pregnant, Ponyboy. She says it's yours." He shook his head and pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Start explaining."
~*~
A/n: I know this is on the shorter side and I apologize for that. Hopefully this doesn't create too much of a flame wave, but I'm ready to take them. Bring it on. And to those of you who actually like this, reviews are more than welcome. I'd appreciate your insight on this. You guys rock.
Keira
Disclaimer: I don't own any of S.E. Hinton's characters or settings. I do own anyone you don't recognize and I do own the plot. I apologize now for anyone who claims to have had this idea first. I do not know of any others, please point them out if you would. I'd be interested to see how original the idea actually is.
Chapter One
A few months back, Soda decided that he was officially sick and tired of bumming rides off Darry and the gang and trying to work out a schedule when he'd be able to use the truck. It was frustrating for him to have to double check that he could have the truck for a date or that he would be able to get a ride home from various places. I didn't blame him by any means. He was twenty and without a car of his own. So, what did he do? What any warm blooded American boy would. He emptied his savings account into a promising old Cadillac and he and Steve spent all their spare time for two weeks fixing it up. It wasn't a looker – the old black paint was rusting in areas – but it ran beautifully. I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of it. I wanted one for myself. But he was Soda and he deserved it.
Luckily for me with my late track schedule at school, Soda agreed to pick me up every day after work. He got off just minutes before training was over, so it worked out perfectly. It was too much work for Darry to have to go out of his way to get me and neither of us minded Soda's newly appointed responsibilities. Most days we took little detours and went places to get cokes or milkshakes. He didn't mind if I drove either, which was nice for me. I had had my license for over a year now, but Darry never let me drive with him around. He always preferred having power over the truck, so I hardly ever got the opportunity to practice.
Today, however, I let Soda drive. I wasn't in the best of moods and I was a flat out bad driver if I was mad. Road rage came easily to me, surprisingly enough. It was days like these that I gave up the privilege. Soda could tell something wasn't right with my mood and was quick to stay in the driver's seat. He wasn't going to let anything possibly damage his precious car. I didn't say anything, but only climbed into the passengers side. It wasn't until we reached The Dingo that he said anything.
"Something happen at school?" He scanned the menu.
"No," I sighed and leaned my head against the window.
"At practice?" He turned to look at me. "What'd you want?"
"Large Pepsi," I answered. He must appreciate what little he had to try to break me. I let him order before telling him what was up. "Coach is thinking of taking me of Varsity."
"What?" he asked incredulously and sat back. "What for?"
I shrugged. "He says I'm not as fast as I used to be. Can't count on me keeping up with the rest anymore." I closed my eyes against the bright sun that began to shine through the corner of the window.
"Smoking too much?" He pulled the visor down and I opened my eyes again.
"I guess."
I knew this would happen some day, but I didn't know it would be so soon. After every match I used to tell myself that I would start weaning myself down to a pack a day and then hopefully get myself to as low as a pack a week. Maybe even quit all together. It never happened, though. It was harder for me to give up smoking than it was to face giving up track. I had managed to work myself down to a pack a day. Darry was grateful for that as much as I was. The expenses were getting too much for him. But after that I couldn't do it anymore. Pressures were getting to be too much, life in general was getting harder. Not to mention the simple fact of needed to smoke in front of others to look tough. Now I fluctuated between a pack and a pack and half a day. I was addicted and I didn't have enough willpower to go cold turkey.
"That sucks, man," Soda said after a moment's silence. "What're you going to do now?"
I shrugged. "I'll try and give it up, I guess. I don't know though."
"You won't know if you don't try."
I tried not to roll my eyes at the cliché comment. "I know, Soda."
A girl skated up to his window and handed him our drinks. He pulled out his wallet and I went for mine but he stopped me. "I've got it." She gave him back his change and we left.
"Thanks."
"Yup," he answered and sucked the foam off the top of his chocolate shake. He set it to the side while we drove home. It only took a few minutes and I was glad. I wasn't exactly up to talking or being out any longer. My day wasn't going to get better, even with Soda's attempts, and I just felt like getting home and figuring out what I was going to do about track. It was a big enough blow to me that I couldn't concentrate on much else.
As we went up the walk to the porch, we noticed a rusty red car parked in the drive way. It was hard to miss and I knew that I recognized it, but I wasn't making any connections as to whom it belonged to.
"Whose is that?" Soda asked.
"I don't know."
We quickly climbed the steps and made our way into the house, curious to see who had come over or who had gotten a new car.
Darry was sitting on the end of the couch, waiting with a look of unwelcome in his eyes. A girl, Libby, who I knew from school, sat on the other end with her hands crossed in her lap. She was a greaser girl, but a nice one. She was one of those girls that I'd prefer to hangout with over most others. I didn't have any particular feelings for her, but she was fun to be around. I had even asked her to a dance a few months back. I knew she would be a fun person to take and she thought the same of me I guess. Although, she did sort of ditch me and get plastered, she was an okay girl.
Only question was, what was she doing in my living room? I didn't mind that she was there; who was I to care? She had been to our house before, but that was when we were hangout in a group and we all went back to my house for ice cream or to watch movies. The atmosphere of the room was unsettling and I was starting to get slightly worried. Was something wrong?
"Pon?" Darry stood up. "I need to talk to you in the kitchen. Now." The tone of his voice was startling and sharp. He left and didn't wait to make sure I was following him. I looked from Libby who stared at her feet and to Soda whose eyes were wide with surprise. Did I do something wrong?
Without thinking much on it, I followed him. He was pretty mad about something and it was better to not push it when he told you to do something.
I looked behind me and tried to keep my voice on the lower end so Libby and Soda wouldn't hear me. "Darry, what –-"
He cut me off. "Ponyboy, what were you thinking? I can't believe you are that irresponsible!" he started to yell. "Where the hell do you come off doing shit like this! Do you –"
"Darry!" I tried to yell over him. "What are you talking about?!" I was SO confused...
He stopped and breathed deep and hard through his nostrils. He was attempting at keeping cool which he had obviously failed at doing just now. He looked me in the eyes and forced a weak smile. "That girl in there is pregnant, Ponyboy. She says it's yours." He shook his head and pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Start explaining."
~*~
A/n: I know this is on the shorter side and I apologize for that. Hopefully this doesn't create too much of a flame wave, but I'm ready to take them. Bring it on. And to those of you who actually like this, reviews are more than welcome. I'd appreciate your insight on this. You guys rock.
Keira