Chapter Eight

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and XAmberX, yes, I do listen to Green Day.

Two-Bit

When I got off the bus I started toward the Curtis'. I figured that everyone would be there. I was a few yards from their house when I saw Steve walk out. He actually didn't have Soda with him. That was really weird; they're best friends. Why wasn't Soda with him? Steve was looking down, but he looked up and saw me.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Steve said. He sounded kind of sad. "Where have you been?"

"I was sick," I said.

"I went by your house a few days ago, no one was there," Steve said.

"It's a long story," I replied. "I think I should tell everyone at once." I started toward the house, but Steve stopped me.

"You don't want to go in there," Steve said.

"Why?" I asked.

Steve sighed, "Come to the park," he said. "I'll tell you there."

A few minutes later, Steve and I were in the park, sitting on a bench.

"So what happened?" I asked.

Steve took a deep breath. "Ponyboy killed himself yesterday."

"What?" I said. I felt like I was going to faint. Pony…he couldn't die. He was different, he was smart; always reading, and he had this weird obsession with the movies. He couldn't be dead, it wasn't right.

"I know," Steve replied. "He just felt so guilty about Johnny dying. He couldn't take it anymore. Darry and Soda are going crazy. I went over to try to comfort Soda, but there's pretty much nothing we can do right now."

There was a long awkward pause. Pony couldn't be dead.

"Darry's sick," Steve continued. "He's the one that found Pony's body. He wouldn't stop holding him. He kept saying 'wake up, buddy, wake up.' He kept promising to bake him a cake, to do whatever he wanted for a day if he would just wake up. He just can't accept that he's dead. When they came for Pony's body they had to pretty much yank him out of Darry's arms. They made the stupid mistake of putting Pony in the body bag right in front of Darry. Darry just…he completely freaked out. He started screaming and trying to get Pony back. Then he threw up and passed out. He's just been wandering around the house draped in one of Ponyboy's blankets and muttering 'Where is he? Where is he?'"

This was terrible. It was all my fault. I had killed Johnny, but Ponyboy thought it was his fault. Now Pony is gone, Darry and Soda are going crazy with grief, and I left Savannah without saying goodbye. My head started to throb. This was not the time for a headache.

"Soda's really upset too," Steve added. Was he trying to make me feel bad? "He's trying to stay strong for Darry, but…I mean he lost his brother. He's not doing too good. They just don't know what they're going to do. I think Darry's going to kill himself too. He's pretty much dead already."

"I always thought Darry was pretty bomb-proof," I said.

"I did too," Steve replied. "But you just need to see him. No, you don't need to see him; you don't want to. It's pretty bad."

Steve and I sat there for a long time. Then he finally said, "So, where were you?"

I didn't feel like talking to Steve anymore. I needed to go home, take some Aspirin, lie down, and try to digest what I'd just heard.

"I'm not up to it now," I said. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

I got up and walked off. Steve didn't even ask me where I was going. I wandered around aimlessly for a while. I went to the pharmacy to see if Savannah was there, but it was closed and empty. I started walking home.

The house was empty. I went to the medicine cabinet and took a lot of Aspirin. I don't know how much, it was probably about six pills. I stumbled toward my room and fell into bed. The same thought kept running through my head, 'Ponyboy is dead, and you killed him, just like you killed Johnny.'