OK, here we are with Chapter 2. First off, my review thanks:

Fairlane: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I'm not really into sappy stuff, just real emotions when they would really happen. I thought through a lot of occupations over the years that Ponyboy might have gotten into (including, for one, a public defender, but I think we've all had enough of that crammed down our throats over the past several years from TV). What brought me to think of him as a social worker were his words in the book, just before he starts writing his essay for English class: "Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late." He wrote his essay, but I could see that not being enough for him. Just my take on things. Thanks again, hope you enjoy the next chapter (not as thought-provoking, but a little funnier).

Ale Curtis-Carter: Glad you enjoyed it! I'll be bringing the rest of the gang in gradually; hope you like what I've done with Two-Bit a few chapters in.

Aurorababe: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I'll keep it coming as long as people are enjoying!

Padfoot-kln: Thanks so much for your review. I really wasn't sure if this would go over too well, I'm glad it did. I really like your stuff too, but haven't done too many reviews since I found the site a couple of weeks ago (I'll get on it!). Your comments really made my day; hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Tensleep: Thanks again and again for the review and the emails, it's really nice to have someone who knows the ins and outs of this stuff helping out. You and your buddies have some of the best stuff out there; hope I can do half as well! Thanks again, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders and anything having anything to do with them/it; I own a house with a now-working sump pump and a dry basement (OK, I don't actually own it yet; get back to me in 29 years).

Now, on with the story.

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"Do you want all of these in the fridge?" Soda asked, referring to the six-pack of beer he had carried in.

"Leave one out for me," I told him.

I took the rest of the beers to put them in the refrigerator, and then watched my brother approach my wife from behind, wrap his arms around her waist, and bury his face in her neck.

"Pony, can you take the…Ahhhh!" Melissa was overcome by a fit of giggles, and slid halfway to the floor before Soda let go of her.

"Damn, Pony, she's more ticklish than you," he laughed.

"Yeah, I know." I leaned on the counter and opened my beer. It had been a long time since anyone had tried anything like that with me. They would loose teeth if they did. I'm not as tall as Darry, but I have a decent build. I'll never have the muscles he's got, since I don't have a physical job, but I do my time on the weight bench in the basement to make up for it. There's something to say for not being a scrawny little kid any more.

"So, where's the Vic Monster?" Soda asked.

"Out in the back yard, throwing the football around with Darry." It had been two months since Vic had come to live with me and Melissa. He grudgingly obeyed Melissa, barely tolerated me, and was just short of openly hostile to Soda. For some reason, though, he was enthralled with Darry. I could barely get the kid to brush his teeth at night; Darry, on the other hand, could have suggested to Vic that he clean the gutters, wash the windows, shampoo the carpets, and replace the siding, and Vic would have been done before the sun was set.

"Pony!" I jolted back to reality. Melissa was looking at me like she had said something. It really irks her when I phase out like that; she thinks I'm ignoring her.

"What did you want me to do?" I was guessing that she wanted me to do something, partly because dinner was almost ready and the table still wasn't set, and partly because she was looking at me expectantly.

Melissa narrowed her eyes at me and tried to look annoyed, but didn't pull it off well. I took a swallow of my beer and grinned at her. "You know I hear everything you say. But my brain puts it in storage while I'm thinking about something else, and I can't always retrieve it instantly." She was looking like she either wanted to strangle me or hug me.

"I was asking if you could put the plates and silverware on the table now." She slid her arm around my back and leaned up for a kiss, so I complied. She smelled like a warm spring day. And God, she looked good, with little rogue strands of hair brushing her cheeks, and her ponytail coming undone from the humidity of the kitchen. I could have just gotten right down on the floor with her and…

"Could you two take that to the bedroom? The rest of us were planning to eat in here." Soda was picking at something in one of the pots on the stove. Sighing, I let go of Melissa and gathered the plates from the cabinet.

Since Vic had arrived, we were trying to be diligent about getting someone over every Sunday for dinner, to give him some semblance of family. Melissa's parents had been over the week before; they liked Vic well enough, though they weren't sure how to act around him. It had been a bit of a shock when we'd told them we were bringing a thirteen-year-old troubled boy home to live with us. I think they were expecting something a little smaller and newer in the way of grandchildren. They did try, though, just as they had tried to understand eight months ago when their daughter had informed them that she and I would be getting married by a justice of the peace in a courthouse, foregoing the big wedding that her mother had dreamed of so we could spend our money instead on our own house. Her parents made a decent living, but neither of us felt right asking them to foot the bill for a wedding that would have set them back three years worth of vacations. We had instead promised to have a small reception at the church hall for our one-year anniversary.

"Soda, could you call those two in now? Dinner is just about ready, and they'll need to wash up." Melissa was transferring everything from the pots on the stove to serving dishes, counting spoons and realizing again that we only have enough big spoons for two side dishes at once. We go through this every time. She dug around in the drawer for a soup spoon and dropped it into the mashed potatoes.

Soda opened the back door. "Dinner!" he shouted at a volume that would have indicated to anyone who had never looked out our back door that we had a back yard the size of Texas. In reality, it takes ten steps to get from our back door to the back fence. I know, I counted once while I was taking the trash out. Don't ask me why, I have no idea. Darry came through the door before Soda had even closed it, with Vic right on his tail. They were both winded and dirty; I was surprised – Vic hasn't been too keen on anyone touching him the last two months. Had he actually played tackle football? Darry answered my unasked question before I wasted any more time thinking about it.

"You've got one hell of a mud puddle halfway across the yard," he told me. "You should get some top soil for that…the both of us must have slipped in it half a dozen times."

"You couldn't have played in a different part of the yard?" I suggested.

Darry looked at me like I had a banana growing out of my ear (a look that I've become rather familiar with over the years). "'A different part of the yard?' Like over next to the pool house, perhaps? Or out by the stables? Maybe we could have just played in your tennis court and to hell with scrapes and asphalt burns."

"OK, OK, I get it. Our yard isn't that big." Vic looked like he was enjoying Darry's sarcasm immensely; he really can't stand me. Darry threw me a grin and a playful punch on the shoulder as the two of them passed by on their way to the sink. After they had washed their hands, we all sat down to eat.

"So, Vic," Sodapop began, and I saw Vic's jaw tighten, "I was thinking maybe you'd want to come over to the garage and help me fix up some of the cars next week." It sounded like a reasonable suggestion, if you hadn't been around for the past two months watching Soda make the same comment every time he saw Vic. He was clearly doing it for his own amusement at this point, to watch the reaction again and again.

"I hate cars," Vic said, teeth clenched. "I hated cars last week. And the week before that. Stop asking me about the cars already!"

Soda was trying to not laugh. "Well, hey, if you're ever interested, just let me know. You've got my number, right?" Vic ignored, and Soda turned his attention to the rest of us. "Did I tell you the garage almost got robbed the other night?" he asked in the same tone he would have used to inquire about our knowledge of the weekend football scores.

We all stared at him. "No. When was this?" Darry looked as surprised as I was.

"Wednesday night; Thursday morning, really. I was over there at 3am working on a Buick…"

"You were working at 3am?" I interrupted. "Do you do that often?" I wondered if he had gotten up incredibly early, or just not made it to bed yet.

"Nah, I promised Mrs. Hollen I'd have her car finished by Thursday afternoon, but I knew the old bat would show up by 9 in the morning. I couldn't sleep anyway; Steve and I had been out…um…OK, never mind about that part. So I'm under this car changing the oil, and I hear something crashing around in the office. I thought maybe one of those stray cats got in – the ones that keep tearing into the trash. I walk into the office, expecting to chase a hungry feline away, and here's this little shit...sorry," he caught himself, glancing apologetically at Melissa and Vic, "…and here's this little…well, yeah, here's this little shit, beating the cash register with a hammer. Dented the crap out of the thing, but the drawer wouldn't pop open (they don't make them like that any more)." Soda stopped to put some pork chops in his mouth while we all waited.

"Good chops, Liss," he said.

"Finish the story already!" Darry was getting impatient.

"Right. So I guess this kid wasn't expecting to see someone come waltzing in; he threw the hammer at me. Missed by a mile. Then he panicked, came running at me like he thought he had a chance. That was his second mistake of the night, the first being coming into my place."

"Do you think it was the same guy who hit the gas station up near the diner last weekend?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Soda laughed, "but he won't be hitting anything else anytime soon, not with a broken wrist. He probably can't see too good out of his left eye either. I let him go before I hurt him too bad, but I think he got the message."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Melissa asked with concern. She hadn't grown up in a neighborhood where people pound on each other regularly, so anything that involves fighting makes her nervous.

I wondered then if I was the only one who noticed that Vic was hovering over his plate, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. I glanced around the table, finally making eye contact with Darry. He had picked up on it, too. He raised his eyebrows at me. I wondered for the millionth time what I was doing trying to pull off this parenting thing as I tossed my options around, finally settling on the direct method. I was fairly certain I knew what was going on, and I didn't want Vic to think he could outsmart me.

"So Vic, how do you know that guy?" I asked offhandedly. Soda and Melissa looked confused.

Vic shoved another forkful into his already filled mouth. He's going to choke to death, I thought. He's going to sit there in front of me and choke himself to death with the food I gave him just to spite me, so he never has to answer my question. I reached over and took the fork out of his hand. "Swallow your food. That's good. Now, how do you know the guy?"

Vic sat in silence, watching his plate like the mysteries of the universe were unveiling themselves right there on the Corelleware.

"Vic." Darry's voice carried the hint of a warning that I knew so well. Even someone who hadn't grown up with him could recognize that slight edge, and I knew that the only thing Vic wanted right then was Darry's approval. He caved.

"I don't know him. He's a friend of someone I know." Vic looked up at me, something between fear and anger flooding his eyes. "If he thinks I ratted him out…"

"No one's asking for names," Darry snapped. "We don't do that in this family."

"Vic, I just wanted to know how you know him," I explained. "You've got to be careful about associating with guys like that, they'll get you into trouble before you realize what's happening. He's not a friend of yours?"

Vic shook his head. "No. I can't stand him, he's an idiot." That was a relief for me. Vic buried his face in his hands then, elbows on the table, and his body began to shake slightly.

It took me a minute to realize he was laughing.

"Do you want to let us in on the joke?" Melissa asked him.

Vic was laughing so hard now he was almost in tears. "That guy…he made like he fought off three guys…" he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and tried unsuccessfully to control himself before continuing, "…you would have thought one was a grizzly…" again, he had to stop to catch his breath before finishing, still laughing, "…and it was…" waving a hand toward Soda, "it was just…YOU!" He completely dissolved into hysterics. It was the first time I had seen Vic laugh, and I was thankful that Soda didn't make a big deal out of the insult. In fact, glancing over at him, he seemed to be finding the whole thing almost as amusing as Vic did. Go figure.

Darry just shook his head. "Yeah, I'd say he's one of us. Or one of you two, anyway."

It was Vic's turn to look insulted. He tried, anyway.

I think that for the first time, he truly felt like a part of the family. Things started to go really well after that night. For a few days.

Hope you liked, don't forget to review!