It's Saturday night and we're all sitting in the lounge watching Superman wobble across the tv screen when we hear a crash from next door. I feel myself stiffen in my seat and hear Darry sigh sadly as Soda's head turns to stare at wall. We all hear it, but all ignore it, because it's been a pretty regular occurrence around here since a new family moved in next door. Darry must've called the cops at least 10 times in the three months they've been living there, with this happening at least once or twice a week.

Over the next half an hour the voices behind the wall get progressively louder, his voice big and booming, hers small and frightened. Darry turns the volume up on the tv, but we can still hear them; we always can. I tuck my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them.

In the end we can't ignore it anymore and Darry's forced to shake his head and say "That's no way to live…"

"It's the kids I feel sorry for, they've got a boy around Ponyboy's age…" Soda joins in the conversation as well, just like he always does. I never do, mainly because I can't think of anything worth saying. Nothing that they could understand anyway.

There's a crash and a scream and I jump before I can stop myself. Darry looks at me as the couch jolts and I blurt out "We should call the police. Or the hospital. Please Darry, I don't like it!"

Darry reaches out and puts his hand on my knee, but he's shaking his head sadly. "We're not gonna call the police Pone."

"Why!" I shout, jumping up from the couch, fighting the sudden urge to run. "He's…he's hurting her!"

"Ponyboy," Soda says calmly. "If we call the police they'll just come banging on our door and say 'Look boys, I know you mean well, but we can't interfere with domestic affairs. It's between a man and his wife, and quite frankly none of our business nor yours. So I'd thank you to not waste police time in the future.' Just like they've done every other time."

"It's not fair," I mumble as I sit back down on the sofa, all the gusto I previously felt having slipped away because I know Soda's right. Darry holds up his arm and I slide underneath it, leaning my head against his chest. Me and Darry aren't usually on hugging terms, but tonight's different because, compared to next door, me and Darry get along just great.

"I know it's not fair, and I know it's hard for you to understand, but sometimes that's life Ponyboy. Sometimes there's nothing you can do. You can't help someone if they won't help themselves…" I sigh and listen to Darry's heart beat through his shirt as he strokes my hair, but I can't help shuddering as another crash echos around our living room. "Here, you just close your eyes Ponyboy, try and get some sleep. You don't need to listen to anymore." He places his hand over my left ear, and because my other one is pressed against his chest, I can't hardly hear anything.

When me and Soda were small, we used to play this game where we'd tell each other secrets underwater. Ok so it sounds lame now, but at the time we thought it was fantastic. For as long as we could hold our breath, we'd lose contact with everything. And that's how I felt now, my chest tight and a rushing in my ears. I started at the tv, where Superman's lips where moving but no words coming out. I think I liked it better that way.

I watched as he soared across a cloudless sky, his arms stretched out in front and his cape billowing behind. I wondered if the boy next door ever watched Superman, wished he'd turn up on his doorstep one day, ready to whisk him away to someplace else; someplace better.

I remember about a week after my parents had died, the gang had been hanging around our house a lot, trying to act like everything was normal, even though nothing could ever be normal again. It was the day after the funeral, but I still hadn't fully excepted that mum and dad weren't coming back.

"I wish Superman was real," I'd said, just to break the silence that had settled over everything and everyone. "He could fly around the world and turn back time… like he did on tv last week, you guys remember?"

They'd all turned to look at me like I was crazy, but it was worse than that…they'd all looked hopeless, like they were sad I'd gone crazy but there was nothing they could do about it. None of then said anything though, not even Steve. I wished he had, because at least if he'd told me to grow up, or stop being so stupid, things would have seemed more like they used to before. But he didn't, and neither did Dally or Soda or Two-bit or Johnny.

After ages of silence Darry finally said softly "Stop it Ponyboy, that's enough now. That's…that's just enough. They're gone." I'd looked at my big brother, sitting all hunched over with his head resting on the palm of his hand and I didn't mention my parents or Superman for the next two months.

I see Soda smile at Darry out of the corner of my eye and I know he's pleased me and Darry are sitting here like this, like I said, me and Darry aren't often on hugging terms. I could feel my eyes starting to close but I didn't want to sleep yet.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about Johnny. I try to picture his face, but his eyes never look happy, even when he's smiling. It's like he's crying behind his eyes where no one can see.

I looked through some of my old sketch books the other day, at all the pictures of things and people I'd forgotten I'd drawn. There were lots of Johnny and Soda because they're the people I spend, or spent most of my time with. In every single picture, Johnny has a scar, a split lip, a black eye, an ugly purple bruise running along his cheek bone. And I never even noticed.

None of us noticed. We got so used to seeing Johnny beat up, we stopping really seeing it. Sure, it made the gang mad as heck when Johnny staggered through our door, bleeding and beaten, but none of us ever did anything about it. We bandaged him up and gave him a hot meal and a place to sleep but we never did anything to solve the problem. Just like what we're doing with next door.

I think it's true, what they say. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. We were so lucky to have a mum that cooked us meals and a dad that came home every night. And even now, after they've gone, I've got Darry and Soda who will always love me no matter what. It's rare in our neighbourhood, to find a kid who doesn't get knocked around at home, but Darry's never ever hit Soda and only hit me once, when I really scared him. When I go to sleep at night I don't have to worry about who might be coming into my room or what I'm gonna find when I go downstairs the next morning.

At least we could give Johnny that. He knew he was safe here and he deserved that at least. And, the more I think about it, the more I realise that maybe Johnny knew we couldn't solve his problems. Sometimes you just have to leave things be and help as best you can, that's what my dad used to say, and he was a pretty smart bloke.

I open my eyes one last time and see Darry smiling down at me. I guess Darry's doing it to, making the best of a bad situation. He didn't plan to be raising me and Soda instead of working his way through collage, but it happened and he's dealing with it. Our neighbourhood's full of people just getting by, but I suppose, being a Greaser, what else can you do?

"Hi, my name's Ponyboy Curtis. I live next door. I was wondering, you wanna come have dinner at my house? My brother's made pancakes…"

The kid looks at me out of his one good eye, before grinning and getting up from his porch and brushing off his jeans. "Sure, I'm Robbie by the way, Robbie Disandelo. Uh…what did you say your name was again?"

"Ponyboy Curtis," I say, smiling back. "My dad named me, I got a brother named Sodapop! Oh speaking of Sodapop, he's the one that made the pancakes. I should probably warn you last time I checked they were blue…"

"Really…that's pretty tuff I guess. Um…any reason why?"

"Nope, not really. He does it sometimes, I remember this one time…" I began to explain to Robbie about the time Soda fixed each of us plates of chicken, mashed potato and sweet-corn each in a different shade of green.

Glancing back over my should at next door's, I mean Robbie's house, I caught sight of a women standing at the bedroom window. She had blonde hair and a pretty face, but even from here I could see her lip was split. She raised her hand slightly and wiggled her fingers at me. I smiled at her and nodded before following Robbie into our nice warm kitchen. Robbie would be safe here.

Well there you go, Happy Easter everybody! This was inspired by the Tracy Chapman song, Behind the Wall. It's longer than I'd planned, and I'm not sure if all the ideas make sense but shrugs meh. Reviews would be greatly appreciated and valued as always.

Smile xxxxx