Nobody slept well that night. Every sound was magnified, every emotion heightened, and around 6:54 Am in the morning, we finally got some concrete news.
"Your brother is going to be okay. He's still drifting in and out of conciousness, but we have him stabalized and he'll be good as new within a couple days."
I didn't know whether or not to believe it at first. Darry looked so relieved though, I decided that i could afford to get my hopes up. We were allowed to see Pony for a few minutes; he was asleep, his face peaceful, his eyeslids fluttering as if he were dreaming. None of us wanted to leave, but the nurse insisted it'd be best for him to just rest to ensure a full recovery. We left, albeit reluctantly, promising Ponyboy we'd be back as soon as possible.
None of us had eaten much in the past few days, so Darry suggested we head over to the local all-night diner to get something to eat. As we filed into a booth near the back, in walked Tim Shepard who spotted us immediately and was quick to slide in right beside me. I shuffled over as non-discreetly as possible, trying to create a safe amount of distance. I still hadn't figured out exactly what our encounter had been about, and had been a little creeped out ever since. He said a quick hello to my brothers before turning to me.
"Hey, I heard about Ponyboy. Is he alright?"
I didn't answer, just folded and refolded my napkin and waited for my brothers to answer.
"He's gonna be okay." Darry said, giving me a questioning look.
"I'd sure hate to see anything bad happen to that kid," Tim said, sounding oddly sincere. I still refused to look at him and after a few moments of awkward silence, he said something about meeting some friends and waltzed off.
"What was that all about?" Darry asked, looking at me.
"Wish I knew," I said, honestly. Tim Shepard was not high on my list of favorite people, and I'd have preferred it if he would cut to the chase and stop with these little meetings. I decided next time I saw him I was going to demand to know what was going on.
Or maybe not.
The waitress came by, a moody blonde who looked like she'd stepped right out of Two-Bit's subconcious. I knew her from school - her name was Janette Something-or-other and she had quite the reputation in the boy's locker room. She had round, wide hazel eyes and a little bow mouth frosted with bright red lipstick. "What can I get y'all?" she asked, giving Soda an appraising sort of look. "Hey, haven't seen you in school in quite some time."
Soda shrugged, "Dropped out a while ago."
"Well that's just too bad, ain't it?" she smirked, and I wanted to kick her.
"I'll have a vanilla milkshake, please." I said, loudly. I hated when girls fawned over my brothers; it was absolutely the most uncomfortable thing to watch. Sodapop especially - the way some girls at school went on about him, you'd think he was James Dean. I knew I wasn't unfortunate looking, but Soda had a way of making me feel like a total troll, even though he never meant to. Janette gave me a withering look, and I smiled sweetly back.
"That all you gettin', Jessie?" Darry asked.
"I'm not so hungry," I answered. It was a total lie - I was starving, but I hated when Darry spent money on me.
"Suit yourself. I'll have the Early Bird Special."
"Me, too," Soda said, flashing Janette a smile that made my skin crawl. "You've worked here long? I've never seen you around before."
Janette smiled, leaning over the table flirtaciously, "Just started about a week ago. At least I know there's one perk to this job."
Soda laughed and blushed a deep shade of crimson. The attention craving monster inside me was beginning to roar, and I couldn't resist blurting out, "Hey Janette, right? Is it true you and Jackson Mills are dating? There's a rumor going around."
Janette's smile faltered and she mumbled something about placing our orders before she hurried away, looking embarassed.
We finished our meals without incident, but the conversation was somewhat stilted. Soda was looking a little downcast, but brightened right up when the bill came and with it a small note that Janette shoved into his hands, winking. I had a strong suspicion that it was her phone number, and I wanted to rip it in half.
"You're not going to call her, are you Soda?" I asked as we loaded into the car.
He shrugged, "Why not? She's cute. Might as well."
"I don't think you should."
Soda chuckled, "And why's that, Jellybean?"
"She's gross. Everyone at school thinks she's a slut."
"Maybe everyone at school is wrong."
"Maybe they're not. Maybe you shouldn't call her."
"Jess, I appreciate the advice and all, but I'm gonna call her whether you like it or not."
"See! You always go for ...thosetypes.I could list 1000 girls that still have their virginity who would give their right arm to date you."
"Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?"
I shrugged, "Well, they hang around our house all the time. I think I should have a say. Right, Darry?"
"I think you ought to keep your nose out of Soda's business." Darry said, raising his eyebrows at me in the rearview mirror. I sank back into my seat and bit my lip to hold back any smart comments. We rode the rest of the way home in silence, and I had a sinking feeling that Soda wasn't too pleased with me. I rarely ever upset Soda, but lately I had been provoking him for reasons unbeknownst to myself. Soda hopped out of the car as soon as Darry pulled into the curb, but Darry held me back when I tried to do the same.
"Look, hon, I know you're not a fan of Soda's taste in girls; I'm not either. But we've gotta give him a break. He'll learn eventually. You dig?"
I nodded, feeling quite ashamed of myself and ran up the steps into the house intent on apologizing to Soda. I burst into his room without knocking, only to meet him naked from the waist up. "Oh. Um. Sorry. I'll come back later."
Soda smiled, "I'm just changing my shirt. What's up?"
I flopped down across his bed and grabbed the nearest pillow to cover my face. I always felt silly apologizing and apparently this time was no exception. "I'msorryforwhatIsaidaboutJanetteandeverything," I mumbled into the pillow.
"What was that?" Soda asked, and I could hear him smiling.
"I'm sorry. Don't make me say it again." I clutched the pillow tighter and I peeked over a corner at my brother.
"You're such a stubborn little brat," he laughed, swatting me with his shirt.
"Or you could say the ever popular 'I forgive you, Jessie!'"
"Don't get cheeky, kid." He sat down beside me; I rested my head on his lap.
"Soda?"
"Yep?"
"Why do you date ...those kind of girls?"
"What kind of girls are they?"
"Don't make me say it."
"Say it."
"Greaser girls."
"You're not exactly a Soc yourself, Jellybean."
"Shut up. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do."
"I mean, I know lots of girls who would kill their own mother to date you."
"Oh, stop. You're making me blush." Soda rolled his eyes, "Sorry, but I'm not so into the 14 and under crowd."
"Fifteen."
"Whatever. The point is that I'll date who I want to date, and I'm sorry if it bothers you, but that's the way it is." He ruffled my hair affectionately and I squirmed away.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Darry phoned the hospital nearly every hour to see how Pony was doing, and everytime he got the same respone: "He just needs to rest. He'll make a full recovery." So we waited and waited. We all pitched in to clean the house, trying to keep busy, trying not to think. Finally on Sunday afternoon we recieved a phone call saying that Ponyboy was well enough to be released from the hospital.