Two-Bit's POV

I walked into the Curtis house, wondering why their truck was still there.

"Hey, ya'll. Two-Bit is here!" I called out.

Soda came out of his room he shared with Pony, looking rather grim.

"What's going on, Sodapop?" I asked.

"Something's up with Pony. I better get to work." He seemed like he didn't even know what was happening, or who I was.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled before he walked out of the house.

Soon Darry came out too, looking equally as pale.

"I'd think someone died considering they way ya'll look. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just...nothing." Darry said. This was going no where.

"Whatever, man. Get to work." I said, shoving him from the back.

He made his way out the door and soon I heard the truck pull out.

"Hey, Ponyboy!" I said cheerfully as I came in his room.

He was squished into a tight ball and covered up, except for his head.

"You cold, Pony?" I asked, grinning down at him.

He just glared at me from his spot on the bed.

"Come on, let's go watch Mickey." I said.

Pony shook his head and buried his face in the pillow. Okay, now I'm getting worried.

"What's wrong, Ponyboy?" I asked, sitting on the bed beside him. I placed my hand on his forehead, trying to see if he had a fever. To my surprise he pushed my hand off before I could tell.

"Just let me check to see if you have a fever." I said, trying to put my hand back.

"NO! Leave me alone!" He screamed, then turned away from me and got as far away from me on the bed.

I jumped back in surprise. Pony never hollered at anyone. He never raised his voice to us. What's wrong?

I left him alone, though I did come and check on him during commercials.

Pony's POV

I was mad at the world. I didn't know why. But I was.

It had been three days since I had had what was called a "phantom pain." I was still distant, and Two-Bit was baby-sitting me once again. He usually came during the day.

Alone in my bitterness, I stayed in my room. I could vaguely hear Mickey Mouse on the television. But nothing would bring me out of my room.

I laid in bed, because there was no use trying to get in my wheelchair, just to sit there all day.

I reached over to my desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. I had to write to Johnny. Only he would understand.

Dear Johnny,

I'm sorry about what happened to you. I wish I could have been there and helped you. It was self-defense. You shouldn't have to be there.

Johnny, I'm miserable. I yelled at Darry, Soda, and even Two-Bit. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm mad at the world. I won't even let them touch me. I guess it's just my own self-pity. But I have a reason. Make sure you're sitting.

They cut off half of my left leg.

Yeah. It got infected and they had to cut it off. It hurts sometimes, though the leg isn't there. It's weird. I know it's not there, but the other night, I had horrible pains, and I knew it was my leg. And not the one still there. I wish you were here, Johnny. I know I could talk to you.

Hold on, Johnny. You'll get through this. Remember what Dallas said, "You get mean in jail." Don't let that happen to you. Please, Johnny.

Your friend,

Ponyboy Curtis

I laid my pen and paper aside. I figured I could make Darry or Soda send it. If they would do anything for a jerk like me.

I closed my eyes and let the tears slip down my face. And then I fell asleep once more.

Soda's POV

I walked into the house with Steve to find Two-Bit sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand, watching tv.

"Hey, Two-Bit." I said, though my mind was on Pony, not Two-Bit.

"Hey, man." He said in reply, not taking his eyes off Mickey Mouse. I looked at Steve and he rolled his eyes.

I walked down the hall and went into our room.

Pony was sound asleep on the bed.

I sat down next to him and attempted to touch him. He whimpered when I made contact, so I took it back.

I heard Darry walk through the door and tell Steve and

Two-Bit that they'd better go. Steve said something about

finding Dallas, who hadn't made an appearance in almost

three weeks.

Darry walked in and found me lying next to Pony in bed. I watched his face as he slept, and noticed the pained expression he wore.

"Hey, Pepsi-Cola." He said and sat down next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, Superman." I said, leaning into him.

"Has he...has he said anything?"

"No."

"Would he..."

"No." I said, already knowing what his question was.

I heard Darry sigh.

Pony began to move around. I looked over at him once more and saw the sweat pouring down his face. Please, no. Not this again.

Pony grabbed a hold of the bed sheets with a tight grip. I knew he was awake now, and I felt bad.

"AH!" Pony screamed loudly. He gasped loudly and soon he was grunting and whimpering with pain.

"Pony, you're okay. We're here." I said, reaching out to hold him.

"OW!" He screamed when I touched him.

"God, make it stop! Help me! It hurts! Help!" Pony pleaded.

Darry tried to grab his hand, as he had done a few nights before, but he wouldn't let him.

"Let go! Help! Make it stop!" Pony screamed.

Five minutes passed before the pain went away. Pony was drenched in sweat and I could see him shaking.

Darry tried to touch him, but he still wouldn't let him. I could see the pain when Pony pushed away.

Pony sat up in bed and hugged himself and rocked back and forth. He looked deathly pale and I noticed again how he hadn't been eating enough.

I reached out to touch him, hoping, praying he'd let me. But he wouldn't.

I looked at Darry who just sighed.

We got up to leave. But before I could, Pony grabbed me by the back of my shirt, pulling me down on the bed.

"I don't mean it! You've got to believe me! I love you! I want you to help me! Please . . . stay." His voice was breaking at the last sentence.

Darry looked relieved, and I noticed the moisture in his eyes. There was some in mine, too.

We sat down on the bed once more, one on each side of Pony.

Darry gently took Pony in his arms. Pony whimpered slightly, but he sank into Darry's chest and began to sob uncontrollably.

"Make it stop, Darry. . . please . . ." Pony choked out in between sobs.

I saw the look on Darry's face when Pony said that. He wanted to help, needed to . . . but he didn't know how either.

Steve's POV

Where the hell was Dallas?

We had been looking around town for an three hours and still hadn't seen him anywhere. This wasn't like Dallas. Usually, if he got jailed, someone would let us know, like Tim or Buck. But no one had heard anything about him being jailed.

We decided to go to Buck's. Dallas usually hung out there, and if he wasn't there, someone was bound to have known something about him.

We pulled into the driveway.

"You ready?" Two-Bit asked, as though I was afraid to go in.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing." He said and got out of his car.

We walked up to the door and stepped inside. Clouds of smoke made it hard to see. The smell of beer, sweat, and smoke made my face scrunch up with disgust.

We walked up to Buck, who was behind the counter handing out beers.

"Hey, Buck. You seen Dallas?" I asked him.

"Yeah. He's upstairs." Buck said, pointing to a set of stairs.

Two-Bit's eyebrows rose a notch.

"Is he alone?" I asked, understanding his thoughts.

"Yeah." Buck said.

I nodded to him, and then we made our way up the steps.

I went to the door I knew "belonged" to Dallas. I knocked before entering and then opened the door slowly.

"Hey, guys! Boy, have I had a crazy week. You know that guy, I forget his name, but, anyway, he beat some guy up over a beer and I saw him cut him with the same bottle the beer was in. It was hilarious. Why you just standing there? Come in here." He barely took a second to catch his breath he was talking so fast.

I looked at him strangely, knowing that that wasn't the usual Dallas Winston. His eyes held a strange glaze to them and he looked a little thinner than before.

Then I spotted it. In his hand was a bag of something white and powdery.

He was high.