Disclaimer: I still don't own The Outsiders.

For one fleeting moment in the day, I remembered that it was the weekend. Weekends were just another day for me – another day to get up early, scramble around the house, go to work, and then later on go to work again. Not exactly what I'd had in mind for my life, but slowly I'd gotten used to the routine.

I had been just about to start my first semester of college when my parents died. It never occurred to me to do anything other than switch gears and stick around for my brothers. Though quite a few people have told me how great it is that I gave up so much for my brothers, it wasn't all that selfless of a decision on my part. At that time, I couldn't imagine starting something new, being alone, and missing my parents – I just wanted to be with my brothers.

After I graduated high school I used to tell myself that it wasn't a big deal if I didn't start college right away, since I would go in the next few years. When Dally or Steve or whoever pissed me off (or I them), I would remind them that they wouldn't have to deal with me that much longer because I'd be out of that neighborhood as soon as I had the chance. Nowadays, bringing up the topic of college around me is admittedly awkward, as I am stuck right in the middle of all the things I want to leave behind – except my brothers, of course.

I was thinking about all of this on the way home from work when I remembered that Soda was out with Sandy, and Pony was at the movies. As much as it would have been nice to come home and relax with my brothers, it was even nicer to know that I'd have at least an hour or two by myself. Though it was tempting to go to sleep immediately, I would get to do that later. Right now, I could do whatever I wanted without having to remind Pony to do his homework or coax Soda into doing his chores.

The house was eerily quiet without anyone there, so I turned on both the television and the radio while I fixed myself something to eat. Later, I curled up on the sofa to read some of the newspaper, but my back hurt too much so I lay on the floor, stretched out flat on my back. After a minute of staring at the ceiling, I reached up and grabbed a pillow for my head.

When we were little, Soda and I would get up real early on Saturdays and make forts out of the cushions on the sofa. While my parents slept in, Soda and I would jump off the top of the sofa onto piles of cushions, pillows and blankets. I usually set up the fort, but I would make Soda test everything before I'd jump from the top of the sofa. Once when I was about ten, I was lying on the floor in the exact position I'm in now when Soda deliberately jumped from the top of the sofa and landed hard on my chest. I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me so badly that I thought I'd die, but I didn't dare tell my parents for fear that they'd put a swift end to Saturday morning sofa festivities.

I laid there on my back for quite a while. Man, was I tired. I probably would have fallen asleep right there on the floor if Soda hadn't burst through the door. He stopped to give me a puzzled look, and then walked up to me slowly. I smiled, wondering if he'd ever guess that I was picturing him jumping off of the sofa.

I grabbed Soda's ankle and tried to trip him. "You're home earlier than I thought you'd be," I said as Soda made no effort to get out of the way.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess"

Soda just stood there, staring at me. I knew something was up, because he never came in this early on a weekend unless Sandy or Pony or Steve was with him. I got up clumsily and leapt onto the sofa as Soda gazed at the ground.

"You okay Soda? Did something happen with Sandy?" I asked quietly.

Soda said nothing, and wouldn't look at me.

"Everything okay, little buddy?"

I watched as large, silent tears streamed down my brother's face. I slid over on the sofa and motioned for him to sit down, which he did.

"Hey, come on. What's up?"

"Darry, I have to tell you something. Don't get mad."

I didn't like the sound of this one bit. "Whatever it is, tell me."

"I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear, and I'm so sorry, but it did and I'm really upset and I don't want you yelling at me right now."

I hesitated for a few seconds and observed Soda, whose hands were trembling ever so slightly. "I won't yell," I offered. I thought about all the terrible things he could tell me. Suddenly, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Where's Ponyboy?" I asked urgently.

"I don't know, but he's with Johnny, I'm sure he's fine," Soda said quickly, looking flustered. "It doesn't have anything to do with him."

"What did you do?" I asked sternly.

Soda looked like he was about to confess to multiple murders. "I'm so sorry, Darry. You're gonna kill me."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll wait until you've had a chance to say goodbye to Ponyboy, now tell me before I have to beat it out of you."

Soda took a deep breath. "Sandy's pregnant."

I knew it. I knew it. I knew I should have been on to that. All he ever talks about is Sandy. I should have seen this coming. I should have threatened him with all sorts of stuff if he ever got some girl pregnant.

"Soda . . ." I whispered in disbelief. There was no way I could say anything. As much as I wanted to throttle him, I just didn't want to deal with this at the moment so I got up without a word and went to my room.

Soda ran after me. "You promised me you wouldn't get mad."

I stopped abruptly and turned to face Soda. "No, I promised I wouldn't yell. And you're right, I probably will kill you. Now leave me alone for a moment. And don't go ANYWHERE!"

I angrily slammed the door to my room and paced around what little area there was. My almost seventeen-year-old brother was going to have a child. He couldn't even remember where he left his keys or his wallet, and he's going to be a father. He can't sit still through a meal or take anything seriously. This was just great.

What would my parents have done? If it were me, I'd have gotten hell. Whatever I did wrong was always so much worse because I was supposed to be a good example to my younger brothers. (Soda – and especially Pony – always got off easy.) My parents would have gone nuts. But they would have let me live, of course. They wouldn't have kicked me out, but they would have made me feel so miserable and guilty that I inevitably would have chosen to flee as soon as I had the means.

Mom would want me to be reasonable. After all, she had been pregnant with me before she and my dad were married. This fact was never pointed out, but when I was old enough I did the math. Soda hadn't killed anyone. He hadn't stolen anything. He wouldn't be going to jail. Getting your girlfriend pregnant wasn't the worst thing ever, but it certainly was something that could have been avoided and it was something that was just not going to work for so many reasons.

Every now and then, I could hear Soda cry and choke out a few words.

"I'm so sorry . . . Come on, talk to me, I don't even care if you yell . . . I'm worried about Sandy, I love her . . ."

Honestly, I believed every word he was saying. I don't think he's old enough to know what real love is, but in his mind, I'm sure he really thought he loved her.

Soda was still crying, and his appeals were getting less coherent. "Please . . . You don't understand . . . I love her, Darry."

I thought about the girlfriend I had throughout most of my senior year of high school. I'd had a girlfriend at some point in every year of high school, but I really fell for Julia. Most of the guys I hung out with would not have picked her out of a crowd, but I thought she was beautiful and perfect. Brown hair and brown eyes, not tall but not short, smart but not snotty. I figured I would marry her one day.

I think I got her pregnant. Towards the end of the school year, she started acting strangely towards me. One of her friends hinted to me that Julia was pregnant, but I certainly didn't want to bring that up in conversation. I was terrified. Foolishly, I just sort of hoped that if I ignored the issue, it might go away. In retrospect, I was a total coward about that.

Julia died in a car accident three weeks after graduation. I never mentioned my suspicion that she was pregnant, though I always have wondered. I'm convinced that I could have dealt with it, but I'm not convinced that Soda can deal with this now. It wasn't the end of the world, and we could deal with it. I knew that, but I wasn't sure if Soda did.

I opened my door a crack, peering at Soda crying pitifully as he sat up against the living room wall trying to smoke a cigarette. That's what I wanted to do right now – just cry and wait for someone to come along and help me out. Either that or punch lots of holes into my wall.

Slowly, I trudged back into the living room and sat on the sofa, passing Soda but not looking at him. I leaned back and closed my eyes, waiting to see if Soda would say anything. "I decided not to kill you," I said sarcastically, "now get over here."

Refusing to open my eyes, I sat there tapping my fingers as Soda sniffled and shuffled towards me. He sat down next to me and hugged me, though I remained frozen like a statue.

"I'm so sorry, Darry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to. Please don't hate me."

"Is it yours?" I asked sharply.

Soda seemed taken aback by this. "Of course. I mean, it better be."

"I can't believe it," I said softly. "How could you be so careless?"

"I wish it weren't true."

I opened my eyes and slid away from him. "Well? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to tell you that everything is fine? That you being a father at seventeen won't be a big deal?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you telling me this?" I asked angrily.

"You would find out anyways, and I thought you could try to understand. You know I didn't want this to happen, Darry . . ."

"But it did! You never learn, you know? I thought you were smarter than that." Despite the best of intentions, I couldn't hide how frustrated and disappointed I was, so everything I said came out harshly.

Soda looked at me apologetically. "Do you think there's any chance that those people from the state will split us up when the baby's born?" he whispered.

I got up and walked towards the front door, massaging my neck with my hand. "I don't know, Soda. It was hard enough for me to convince them that I could handle two teenage boys. I can't imagine they'd let you or me raise a little baby."

"I would never ask you to be responsible for that baby."

"No, of course you wouldn't. But do you really think you can afford to move into your own place, support Sandy and a baby? You know you can't, and you know that I will just have to be there to take care of your mistakes like I always do, for both you and Pony."

"That's not fair!" Soda cried. "This is the last thing I wanted to happen. You know I don't want us to get separated."

"You don't want you and Ponyboy to be separated," I shouted. "Neither of you would care less if I were in the picture, except that you both need me to take care of things like bills and housework and solving all your problems."

"Darry, stop yelling and getting yourself upset. You're already stressed and I know you're mad at me . . ."

"Don't turn this into some sudden concern for my health," I snapped. "If you didn't want me to be stressed you should have thought about the consequences of your actions."

"You know Pony and I both care about you. We both know how hard you work and everything you give up for us. Just because we don't plan out every moment of our lives doesn't me we don't care."

"You two wouldn't notice me dead on the kitchen floor until the lights went out – because I wouldn't have been there to pay the electric bill. That's when one of you would try to find me."

Soda shook his head in disbelief and started crying again. "How can you say that? I'd be lost without you. Pony would too, he just doesn't realize it. Me an' Pony want all three of us together."

"Well, it feels like I'm the only one around here that actually does something about it," I yelled. I sat down on the arm chair and tried to calm down. "I never thought that at twenty years old I'd be working nonstop, never having any time to myself. I hate being so busy and tired but I do it for you and Pony, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together. Meanwhile, you're out getting your girlfriend pregnant and Pony's out doing . . . I don't know what, but I'm sure I can count on the fact that he isn't thinking about what could happen to him and he's putting himself in a dangerous position, as usual."

"What will Pony think when he finds out?" Soda asked out of nowhere. "Maybe we should wait 'til tomorrow to tell him."

"Un uh. You tell him," I said, pointing a finger at Soda. "You explain to him that the money that you could have contributed for his track shoes or for food or whatever is gone because you have to support a baby."

"I never thought this would happen, Darry. I promise I didn't mean to."

"Stop being so dramatic," I ordered, slightly annoyed. Dutifully, Soda wiped his eyes and sat up straight. He looked miserable. I couldn't figure out if he felt worse about telling me or the prospect of telling Ponyboy, but I guess it didn't really matter.

"You know," I said casually, "you're going to have to work more hours. Not go out as much."

Soda nodded soberly. I hated seeing him like this. He's always upbeat, but when he gets overwhelmed, he takes things really hard. I sat next to him and waited until he looked me in the eye.

"Do Sandy's parents know?" I asked.

"Not yet," Soda sighed. "They will kill me, they've never liked me."

"They won't kill you, Soda. You know I wouldn't let them," I said, trying to force a smile.

Soda grinned. "How'd you stop being mad at me so easily?"

Instantly I stopped smiling. "I'm still mad at you. I'm mostly worried about Ponyboy right now. He should have been home by now."

"Well, it was kind of good he wasn't, ya know . . . for all this."

"It's never good when he's not home. He just got jumped, he never thinks about what's going on . . ."

"He's a good kid, Darry. You're always on his case when I'm the one who usually screws up more."

I raised an eyebrow at Soda and said, "I will definitely keep that in mind from now on. But it doesn't mean that Pony can do whatever he wants."

It was true, though. I had assumed that Soda, though playful and energetic, was responsible enough that I could simply trust him to make the right decisions. Even though Pony was intelligent, he was too immature and scatterbrained to get by without Soda and I looking out for him, and Soda actually agreed with me on that.

"Darry, he's fine," Soda assured me.

I shook my head. "Not the way this day's been going," I muttered.