Darry's POV

The next morning, I took Ponyboy to the hospital for one of his check-ups. He needed his bandages changed again and they thought they might be able to take out his breathing tube. I was hoping they would, but after last night, I wasn't so sure he'd do that well without it.

I pulled up inside the parking lot as close to the door as we could. We were parked in a handicap place now, and I noticed how Pony stiffened as he saw the sign.

"You ready?" I asked once I came up beside his side of the truck.

He nodded and stared out at some other place in the distance as I lifted him in my arms and placed him in his wheelchair.

Pony wheeled himself toward the hospital doors. I walked beside him as we made our way inside.

I led the way to the waiting area and signed him in. Soon, he was called back and I went with him.

The doctor came in within a few minutes. I squeezed Pony's

hand to reassure him, and then the doctor began his process.

"Hello, Ponyboy. How are you this morning?" The doctor asked.

"As fine as I can be." Pony mumbled.

He smiled at Pony's remark and then set to work on the bandages.

I muffled a gasp when I saw his legs. They looked awful. I hadn't seen them without the bandages on them, and seeing them now made me sick.

His legs were a bright orange-red and some areas were a dark brown color.

The doctor shook his headwhen he saw them.

"I'm afraid we'll have to do a skin graft. His wounds aren't healing as best as we thought they might. We'll need to see you back in a few weeks for the skin grafting."

"What is that, exactly?" I asked. I didn't like the sound of it.

"It's simply a procedure of surgically removing skin from another region of the body and transporting it to the burned area. The skin is usually taken from the buttocks."

Pony nodded, but didn't seem all that aware of what was taking place.

The doctor then rebandaged Pony's legs. When he was finished, he worked on Pony's breathing tube.

He took it out of Pony's nose and asked Pony to take a deep breath for him.

Pony's breathing was haggard and deep. It sounded pained and strained, as though just breathing was hard on his lungs.

"Good. One more time." He asked.

And Pony did. But by the end he started coughing and choking and had to be placed back on the breathing tube.

"Good job, Pony. You should be back to normal within the week or so. When you come back next Tuesday, you should be as good as new."

"Breathing wise, you mean." Pony said, bitterness in his gruff voice.

"You should be able to start physical therapy within the next two months or so. You'll need to wait a while after the skin grafts. Then we can proceed with the therapy. You may want to start lifting weights. It'll make wheeling yourself around a lot easier to you."

"Is that all, sir?" I asked, knowing Pony wanted out of there.

"Yes. I've scheduled another appointment for you for next Tuesday, and then, from there, we'll decide when to do the surgery."

"Thank you, sir." I said, and we started to leave.

Pony was definitely eager to get out of there because he was wheeling himself out of there faster than I could keep up.

"Slow down!" I said after a minute, but he didn't listen.

He just rolled himself to the truck and stubbornly waited on me.

I walked up beside him, glaring at him for making me walk so fast to try to keep up. But I quickly stopped when I saw the look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, kneeling in front of him.

"Nothing." He said, turning his chair away from me.

"Tell me." I said, turning him back to face me.

"It's nothing. Let's go." He said, forcing himself to look better than he actually did. His face was pale and his eyes looked wet with unshed tears.

I complied to his wishes, lifting him up in the car. But this was far from over.

Pony's POV

I rolled into the house after Darry set me down on the porch. Soda was still at work, so I went into my room alone.

I tried to read a book, but my mind was unfocused on the story. So, I decided to go into Darry's room to find his weights he kept in his closet.

I wheeled myself into Darry's room, and moved to his closet. The weights were on the floor, and I had trouble reaching down to pick them up.

"What are you doing?" Darry asked, and I jumped a little.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He said, moving closer.

"I was...just getting some of your weights." I said.

"Here. Let me."

"I can get it." I snapped. I hadn't meant to sound so mean, but I did.

Darry took hold of the handle bars on my chair and pushed me over to his bed, making me face him as he sat down.

"Pony, what's going on? You're not yourself lately. Something's going on, and I won't let you leave until you tell me what." Darry said, his voice stern, but filled with concern.

"Nothing is wrong." I mumbled.

Darry took hold of my chin, making me look him in the eye. I hate when he does that.

"Pony, I may not be Soda, but I still know when something is bothering you. You're not exactly like a closed book, you know. I can read people, too."

I could have kicked myself when I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't want to act like a baby, but I was.

"Pony..."

"It's just..." I started, but couldn't finish.

"Just what?"

"It's everything! I hate having to wheel myself around like some cripple. It's what I'm turning out to be. People see me like I'm some freak! I have these damn breathing tubes hanging out my nose and I'm stuck in this wheel chair with my legs all bandaged. People don't know what happened, but they judge me anyway. And the pity! God, I hate the pity I see in everyone's eyes. I'm not just some kid who had an accident and is wheelchair-bound. I'm a person! I have feelings, too, but no one seems to get that. Why? Why, Darry!" I hollered.

By then I was crying, in spite ofthe tough way I was trying to act.

Darry leaned down and took me in his arms, holding me tightly. Again, I was being held like a small child, and that was how I was acting. But this was too much for me to deal with. I wasn't ready for it. I didn't need all this. But I was getting it anyway.

"Sh. I don't know why either. It isn't fair. But we're all here for you. Every step of the way. Me and Soda, the gang. We're all here for you, buddy." Darry said as he stroked my back.

I tried to calm my tears of bitterness and frustration, and after a while, I calmed down.

"Can I get those weights for you, or would you rather?" Darry asked, and I felt better.

"Please." I said simply.

Darry easily bent down and retrieved them for me. He only handed me the five pounders.

"You can build upon it later." Darry said to my questioning look.

I was about to go into my room when the phone rang. Darry answered it on the second ring.

Darry spoke into the phone and got off soon after.

"Let's go." Darry said, motioning toward the door.

"What happened?" I asked fearfully.

"Soda's in jail." Darry said.