Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.
Darry and Soda stared at each other as the door banged shut behind their youngest brother. Neither of them knew what to say. The unthinkable had just happened on two levels. Darry had snapped at Soda, which was bad enough… but hitting Ponyboy?
After a few minutes, Soda realized he was still staring at Darry, and he got up abruptly and went into the bedroom. He knew how upset his little brother had been when he ran out, but he was also pretty sure it wouldn't take him too long to come around. He did know one thing, though. He couldn't look at Darry right then. For the first time he could think of, he needed some space from his older brother. He knew Darry hadn't meant to hit Pony. But he also knew that he had. And he didn't think he could handle being in the same room with him right then. He figured if he just went to bed, he'd wake up when Pony came in, talk to him a little, and then the three of them could sit down together in the morning. The last thing he expected was to wake up alone in the morning.
Once Soda awoke and realized the sun was shining and his bed was still empty, he felt a pit in his stomach, and he jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, anxious to tell Darry that Pony still hadn't come home. What he didn't expect was the sight that confronted him when he walked into the sunlit room. The sunshine was the only change from the scene he'd left about six hours earlier. Darry was still sitting in the chair where Soda had left him, and he was still staring out the door. But when he turned slowly to look at Soda, the other change was very clear. The look in his eyes had changed dramatically in the past six hours.
Slowly, Soda sank down onto the couch. "Darry," he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he sometimes had to when Pony had his nightmares. "Darry, what happened? Did he come home?"
Darry shook his head but seemed unable to speak. He motioned toward the newspaper on the coffee table, and Soda reached over to pick it up, his eyes never leaving his brother's face… until he saw what Darry had wanted him to read. The blood drained from his face, and he dropped the paper.
"Darry," he said urgently. "Darry, what are we going to do? That… that had to have been Johnny and Pony. That's murder. What…" He trailed off when he realized something almost more terrifying. Darry knew all of this, and for the first time since their parents had died, he saw something else too. Darry had no idea what to do.
Soda got up from the couch and slowly approached his older brother where he was sitting in the armchair, staring towards the door as if Pony still might walk through at any moment.
"Dar – did you… sleep at all?"
Darry shook his head, but he seemed as if he were in a trance, and Soda put his hands on his brother's shoulders lightly. He didn't move, and Soda began kneading the muscles that had tightened more in the space of a few hours than they ever had when Darry foolishly carried two bundles of roofing.
"We need to figure out what to do. Maybe we should both take the day off," Soda suggested, not expecting any type of response and certainly not the one he got. He was stunned when Darry nodded and even more shocked when he whispered hoarsely, "Will you… will you call for me?"
Not trusting himself to look at his brother before he made this call, he said "sure" quickly and walked into the kitchen to make the calls. When he came back out, Darry still hadn't moved, so Soda resumed his futile efforts to help him relax. After a few minutes, when he realized he really wasn't helping, he stopped and just left his hands on Darry's shoulders for a minute. And then he felt it. He felt what he knew his older brother had been trying to suppress all night long. Darry's shoulders start quivering under his hands. He had tried to hold back tears, but Soda's touch lost him the battle.
Soda moved to sit on the arm of the chair, and he put his arm around Darry.
"Darry," he said, trying to keep his own voice steady, "it's going to be ok. It has to be."
"No," Darry said, and his voice quivered with the sobs he was so unaccustomed to, "it doesn't."
Soda looked down at his older brother, and his own eyes started to burn with tears when he realized he was right. Getting up abruptly, he went back into his bedroom. The minute he caught sight of the only half-slept-in bed, the tears started to flow, and he threw himself on it, burying his face in Pony's pillow. He didn't know how long he'd been laying there when he felt the bed slant, and he turned his face to look at Darry. Darry's own face was twisted at an attempt at self control, but his next words took all of it away.
"I'm … I'm sorry, Soda. This is all my fault," he choked. He buried his face in his hands, and Soda suddenly realized what he'd done by leaving Darry alone in the living room all night. He sat up suddenly and threw his arms around Darry.
"No, it isn't. You were just worried, and you never would have hit him if he hadn't scared you. You love him, Darry. I know that."
"But does he?" Darry choked out.
Soda didn't know how to answer that question.