Ok guys, I'm fangirling here just a little bit. The real C. Thomas Howell, who played Ponyboy Curtis in the Francis Ford Coppola-directed film in 1983, just answered a question of mine on Instagram. Yes, he wrote back to me.
His depiction of Ponyboy, as well as the rest of the guys in the movie (Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, Tom Cruise, Emilio Estevez, and Ralph Macchio) are who I picture as I write my story. So nothing for him, but something very special for me.
I may be too old to get excited about this kind of stuff, though.
I wanted to thank everyone for their reviews on the first chapter of my first story on this site and also thank all the readers (and fanfic writers) for welcoming me with open arms. It really means a lot. Please keep 'em coming. They really mean a lot.
Also, I've had this chapter written for a while, but wanted to edit the %$ ^$% out of it before it went up. And so I did. It took a while and I haven't had much time to sit down and do it, so apologies for the slow update. But it's here! It's still not perfect, but I hope you enjoy!
PS I have no idea what a University of Tulsa sweatshirt looked like in the 1960s. So I based my description on a modern one.
The front door opened and Two-Bit wandered into the Curtis house not long after Soda grabbed a piece of chocolate cake from the kitchen and switched on the tv.
Two-Bit sauntered in hugging himself warm. He had on a scarf - not a typical Two-Bit look.
"Well, lookee here, it's my favorite Curtises," he said gleefully.
"Two-Bit, keep your voice down," Soda responded.
"Aw is the little Pony still sick?" he quipped, though his eyes shone with concern.
"Yea, he's sleeping right now and you're about to get kicked to the curb in a minute," Darry said sternly, walking over to his friend.
"I'm just funnin' you there, big guy. I'll be quiet. How's he doing?"
"Not great," was all Darry said. He eyed the frayed scarf, taking the course wool and held it between his fingers. "Two-Bit, what on earth are you wearing?"
"Just dressin' up for the occasion," Two-Bit smiled. "You guys hear about that storm they say is coming?" Two-Bit nudged Sodapop's discarded shoes as he spoke.
"Ah, the storm. The one my kid brother Sodapop over here insists will be the end of us all," Darry responded sarcastically jabbing his thumb backwards towards the couch before heading over to his armchair and sinking down in it heavily.
He gave Soda a look. Soda shot back his own. Haha very funny, it said. Just wait.
"Keep it down, they're talking about it on the news right now," Soda said from the couch.
"Well, it's pretty freakin' cold out there right now," Two-Bit told Darry in a low voice, unwrapping the scarf from his neck.
"That's a good look, Two-Bit," Darry smirked but quieted down to hear the weather report.
The weather woman once again predicted snow. She said it would start in a couple hours, around 1pm and continue long into the night. She also said conditions could get treacherous and told Tulsa residents to keep off the roads. There would be wind gusts up to 40mph.
"Darry, maybe you should cancel that appointment?" Soda looked up anxiously at his older brother from the couch. Darry was still standing by the door with Two-Bit, arms crossed.
"I'm not canceling, Soda," Darry said with a wave of his hand. "We'll be fine, Soda. You've seen what Pony looks like. He needs a doctor,"
"How bad is he?" Two-Bit asked.
"Well, he ain't good," Darry said. "He's got a high fever, still throwing up. He can't move around much. I don't even know if he's ok to manage the trip, but - I have to do something. It's been two days of this and no change."
"You think it's the flu?" Two-Bit inquired.
Darry shrugged. "He's not coughing. What else it could be? The flu is going around,"
Two-Bit nodded in agreement. "Well, I need to get some blood flowing back into my veins," he grinned, "You got any beer, Soda?"
"Check the fridge," Soda replied absent-mindedly.
"Hey Two-Bit, you wanna pay our grocery bills this month while you're at it?" Darry called after him.
"That means I'll have to get a job..."
"That ain't a bad idea…"
By early afternoon, there was still no snow. But now, the skies were overcast and temperatures were dropping. There was a harsh wind blowing in from the east. Fat clouds in the sky were the color of lead. Traffic had died down, trash was blowing into the street, and people were quick to get indoors.
There was something in the air and if you stuck your nose out the door and breathed it in, you could even smell it. It was like fresh rain on the horizon. Darry Curtis didn't want to think about what was coming. For him, it was a Tulsa cold front and nothing more. He had his little brother on his mind.
He had a nagging feeling that something was very wrong. That this was more than just the flu. But maybe he was just overreacting. It made sense - after all, Pony had been sick not too long ago, after the deaths of their friends, and Darry remembered all too well him laid up all pale and helpless in that hospital bed.
Darry just didn't want to let it get that far again. He knew that at the very least, Pony needed to be checked out.
Darry was determined to get him checked out, and no gray skies or chilly temps were going to stop him. He did worry that his baby brother wouldn't be dressed warmly enough - not like they had plenty of winter clothes lying around - but at least Pony's new sneakers didn't have holes in them.
He decided he would pull those heavyset farmers' work boots out of the closet. They were the ones that their father had purchased for each of his boys for those weekend trips visit Tom, a pal of Darryl Curtis Sr. and a self-proclaimed loner, who had decided to leave Tulsa to raise cattle and sheep and horses on a ranch he had purchased up in Stillwater. The boys would come up on Saturdays sans Mama Curtis to help Tom tend to his animals and explore down yonder.
Darry would end up riding the tractors and raking and baling the hay. Sodapop wouldn't rest until he got to ride Tom's buckskin horses Jack and Charlie. (Later, at another stable where he worked, he would have a special connection to another buckskin named Mickey Mouse, the one that got away.)
Darry almost laughed out loud when he remembered how Pony, age 9, would chase the sheep, making them scurry in all directions. And then the sheep would chase him!
Tom had shown up at the funeral of their parents, but Darryl could smell the alcohol on his breath a mile away. HIs father had told him that Tom liked his liquor, but showing up drunk to the cemetery was something else. He decided that the next time Tom would ask them to come up to Stillwater, he would find some way to get out of it.
But he never had the chance. Tom drank himself to death just two weeks later. No one knew why and no one, except the Curtises, seemed to care. He was a loner after all.
Thinking about poor Tom sent shivers up Darry's spine. But he shook himself out of his daze and sat down on the floor to pull on those thick work boots. And he kept Pony's pair off to the side.
He figured he would take a thick blanket along, find some extra clothing for the trip, and make sure the heat in the truck was turned up high.
The eldest Curtis brother had been rummaging through the coat closet near the front door when he pulled out a heavyset navy puffer coat that had been collecting dust. "Found it!" he exclaimed, happy he'd be able to take along something warm for his brother.
Soda and Two-Bit had gone outside to brave the cold so they could shoot the breeze and Two-Bit could have a smoke. Two-Bit wore his thick scarf, but Soda had not even thought to put on a jacket. He was still in his thin flannel. Darry would have scolded him for not using his head, but he hadn't even noticed.
They filed inside one by one, Steve trailing behind them. Somehow Steve had got the memo that Two-Bit was coming over, so he figured it would be ok if he did, too.
They brought in with them that icy wind. Soda was wearing a pretty thin flannel.. He hadn't thought to layer with extra clothing.
"Man, it's freezing out there," Soda declared, his arms wrapped around himself.
Still holding the coat he had found, Darry gave his kid brother a parental look,suddenly realizing he had gone out in the cold without thinking about it. "Soda, why didn't you think to put a coat on if you were going outside? You want to get sick as sick as Pony?"
He looked past his brother. "Hey Steve."
Steve, too, was only wearing a denim jacket.
Darry shook his head in disbelief.
"Where's your coat, Steve?" he asked in his typical fatherly tone.
"Hey Darry," Steve replied, ignoring the stern comment. "What you got there?" he asked, jutting his chin towards the jacket that was gripped in Darry's fist.
"Dad's old ski jacket!" Soda jumped in. "I forgot we still had that." He grabbed it, even though it was still in Darry's grip, and examined the down-filled coat, turning it over to inspect the quilting and the quality of the stitching that still appeared like new.
There was no logical reason why Darrel Curtis, Sr. had a ski jacket, as he had never gone skiing. But it had been his father's and he couldn't bear to get rid of it after his parents passed. He, too, ran his hands over the material.
"Yeah, I figure I'll take it along for the trip to the doctor. Give Pony some extra warmth," Darry said, looking down at the coat in his hands with reverence.
"Kid still sick?" Steve questioned, an air of disbelief in his voice.
"His fever was 103 degrees earlier," Darry retorted in a voice that told Steve to shut his mouth.
"Darry, that coat will fit you, but it'll probably swallow Pony," Soda said, loping to the couch where Two-Bit was watching a Mickey Mouse cartoon.
"I know it, little buddy, but I gotta bring it along just in case," he said, "Hey Soda, you still got that Tulsa University sweatshirt somewhere? You know, the bulky one?"
"I think it's in your closet," Soda told him.
"Maybe we better turn on the news again, see what they're saying about the weather," he added. He couldn't help the nagging feeling that was still eating at him.
Two-Bit looked at him, "Sodapop Curtis, did any of those snowflakes outside hit that pretty little head of yours?" he asked.
"What snowflakes?" Steve interjected.
"Exactly!" Two-Bit exclaimed.
Soda grinned, "Nothing can mess up this tuff-lookin 'do," he said, his hand smoothing his own perfectly greased hair with a crooked grin on his face. "Not even a little snow."
"There is no snow - you handsome devil you," Two-Bit said.
"They didn't say snow, Two-Bit. They said heavy snow," Soda quipped.
"Ahh, now it's heavy snow?" Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Soda!" Darry yelled out, putting an end to the conversation that was going nowhere, "We gotta wake up Pony soon. See if you can find that sweater so he can wear it for the trip. I don't think he has anything else that's warm enough."
Soda got up to head to Darry's room. "Come on, Steve, help me find it," he motioned to his best friend.
"I don't think Pony's going to be too happy to see me," Steve said matter-of-factly as he followed.
"He'll be fine," Soda said.
The oversize Tulsa University sweatshirt, which was indeed in Darry's closet, was another prized possession. This prized possession was Soda's. Darry had gifted his middle brother the oversize sweater because Soda had never had the chance to visit his older brother on campus.
After grabbing the sweatshirt, Steve followed Soda to the room he shared with Pony, but stopped short of going in. He would never admit this, but he was uncomfortable, and he didn't want to get in the way. So he stood in the doorway, hunched forward with his hands in his pockets, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Pony was laying on his side, eyes closed, the blanket covering his hips haphazardly. He looked like he was in the middle of a fitful dream and his brows were furrowed, but Soda knew it was just the illness wreaking havoc on his frame.
Soda brushed the back of his hand against his brother's cheek, unnerved by how hot it still was. He put a hand on his hair, and then bent forward, his face close. "Pony," he called in a comforting sing-song voice. There was no response, so he tried again. "Pone?"
Ponyboy moaned and his eyelids began to flutter. "Pony," Soda said again, gently, "Time to wake up, sleepyhead."
"Soda?" Ponyboy muttered hoarsely, his chapped lips parting, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah kiddo," Soda paused, his fingers gently moving strands of his brother's hair away from his eyes. "It's time to get up. Darry is taking you to the doctor soon, remember?"
Pony moaned again, this time slightly aggravated. "I want to sleep…"
"I know, buddy, but you have an appointment."
Pony was quiet and Soda wondered for a second if he had fallen back asleep. Then he suddenly opened his eyes wide and sat up in the bed way too fast. The wave of dizziness hit him hard and Soda watched him swaying for a moment, before he sprung into action.
"Whoa, whoa. Take it easy there, kiddo," he said, putting a protective hand on Pony's arm to keep him still. "You were supposed to get up slowly,"
Pony answered with a groan, his head spinning. Sitting up, he balled his hands up into fists in front of himself and then leaned forward, scrunching his face into them.
After a few moments of rubbing at his eyes, he heard Soda's voice, but it sounded far away. "Hey kiddo, how you feelin'?" The ringing in his ears didn't help. Soda's hand went to his back. .
"Shoot, kid, you look like you were run over by a truck," Steve shouted from the door. Pony pulled his hands away from his face to give his brother's friend a sharp look.
"So-da," Pony whined in a voice that probably wouldn't exist if he didn't feel like death warmed over, "What's STEVE doing here?"
"He's just helping me get you dressed and out of bed," Soda said, but not before shooting Steve a look of death.
"I don't need help," Pony grumbled, though he felt utterly miserable.
Soda put a hand on his cheek, wincing. "Pony, come on, you're burning alive!"
Pony doesn't answer. He was working up the courage to stand. "Soda, do I have to go?" he tried again, rubbing at his face. "I can get better just fine at home,"
Steve made a sound that sounded like "Humph!" but kept his comments to himself.
"Sure, you can," Soda said, "But maybe the doctor can give you something stronger than aspirin. You don't want to keep feeling like this, do you?"
"No." Ponyboy pouted like a baby. He knew Soda was right, but he just wanted to go back to bed. It didn't help that Steve was gawking at him.
In a surprise move, he called out, "Hey Pone, you want some water?"
Pony was shocked for a moment, before answering quietly, "Yeah."
Steve left the room and Pony rolled his eyes, "I must really look bad if Steve Randle is feeling sorry for me," he tells Soda.
"Aw Pone, you're ok. You think you can stand?"
Pony tried to get up and take a step forward. A few spots were clouding his vision. He knew he was doing everything too fast, because the world kept tilting and he needed to grab on to something to keep from falling over. As his knees buckled, he grabbed on to Soda's arm.
"Hey, hey," Steve said authoritatively, stepping into the room, that Tulsa University sweater balled up in one hand, glass of water in the other, just as Pony collapsed, "You need to sit down and drink your water first."
"Here, Pony, take a minute," Soda said more gently, looking at his eyes which are glazed and too shiny. It was obvious the fever is still there. Soda held his brother up and carefully eased him back down on the bed. Steve handed him the glass of water, which he accepted gratefully and began to drink.
"Not so fast," Sodapop grumbled, watching him.
Pony drank about half the glass before handing it back to Steve, who sets it down on the mini dresser next to Pony's side of the bed. His face was white, with strange pink blots on his cheeks, like someone had colored them in with a red crayon.
"I really hope this doesn't come back up," Pony muttered.
The bottle of aspirin was on the dresser next to where Pony had been sleeping, and, surprisingly, it was unopened. Soda grabbed the container and uncapped it, shaking out two pills. He handed them to Pony, who looked at them knowing they weren't going to be enough, but swallowed them whole anyway.
"They haven't been helping you really, have they," Soda looked at his brother sympathetically, rubbing the back of his head.
"No not really. I mean maybe a little," he said.
"Soda!" Darry's voice pierced through the house from the living room. "We gotta get going…"
"Ohhh man," Pony said holding his head, even though Darry hadn't been that loud. His face was burning so much and he was so dizzy that he was afraid he would start bawling. You don't bawl in front of Steve Randle.
Soda sat down next to Pony on the bed, his arm around him. "Hey Pone, you're gonna need to stand now. You can stand right? If you can't, we can carry y-"
"Maybe we should carry him," Steve cut in.
This was so embarrassing. "You don't need to carry me," Pony mumbled, "I can walk, I'm fine."
He thought he heard Steve snicker but he didn't look up.
Soda, his left arm still around his brother, squeezed his left shoulder in encouragement. Without making him feel bad or saying anything about it, Soda kept his arm around him as he pulled him to stand up. Pony began to move one foot forward and then the other, so weak that Soda had to literally hold him up - Pony's weight was leaning heavily against him. But he kept his mouth closed, and thankfully, so did Steve.
Soda was holding tightly onto his arm as they walked and Steve followed behind them, holding the sweater. Pony was very dizzy and he wondered for a moment why the walls kept tipping, but he kept on - that is until they made it out the door and his legs felt like they were going to collapse again.
Things were already sliding in and out of focus and Pony was thinking to himself, this isn't normal. And then his knees buckled again in the hallway and he felt Soda lifting him up so he wouldn't completely fall.
Pony wasn't heavy - by any means - but he certainly wasn't light. "Steve, help me," Soda called to him and Pony felt Steve behind him, straightening him up. Pony couldn't help it, but he had to lean back against him for support, as he couldn't really hold his own weight up. At this point, he was already so tired that he didn't even care. But he knew that Steve would probably rag on him about it, for years to come.
Thankfully, Steve didn't say anything, but he did look concerned. It was slow going - the whole thing was a blur - but they made it down the hallway and around the corner into the living room where Darry was waiting and Two-Bit was lounging on the couch.
"Well look what the cat dragged in!" Two-Bit cried out as they rounded the corner.
"Hey, how you doin' Ponyboy?" Darry said, putting a strong hand on his back. His eyes were lined with worry. You could see Ponyboy did not look good and as Steve and Soda let go, suddenly Ponyboy felt very unsteady.
"I can't walk too good, Dar," he said, wrinkling his nose, his mouth twisted into a grimace.
Darry put a firm arm around Pony's shoulders, steadying him in a way that only their oldest brother could. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go sit down."
The tv was still on, though not as loud as usual, but no matter. Pony's head was throbbing.
Two-Bit sidled over to him and helped Pony to the couch.
"You drunk, kiddo?" Two-Bit quipped good naturedly, "You look like you just got out of a rumble!"
"Thanks a lot, Two-Bit," Ponyboy said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. Then, just before the couch, "Mind if I just lay down?" They let him drop and he sort of fell heavily into the soft cushion.
"He's not looking so good, Dar," Soda said to his eldest brother in a low voice, pulling him off to the side where nobody could hear them. "I don't know if this is such a good idea. Maybe we need to bring him to the hospital."
"You know we can't afford it," Darry responded, mumbling almost to himself. Then, turning back to Soda, "That bad?" he asked, though he knew it was. "Let's see what the doctor says."
"Darry, he can barely walk."
"You know how our kid brother is when he gets sick," Darry said, but he was making excuses and he knew it.
"He's white as a ghost. He can barely hold himself up. I don't know, this seems different."
"You know if the doctor tells us to go to the hospital, we'd be there in a heartbeat. I'd even carry him there myself," Darry joked.
Soda crossed his arms over himself, but didn't say anything more.
Steve unfolded the now somewhat wrinkled University of Tulsa sweatshirt from his hand as he stood above Pony, who was trying to rest. "Your brothers want you to put this on," he said without emotion. It didn't get much farther than that. Steve basically laid the sweater over him as he fell back against the couch, winded.
"Hey Pone -" Darry said loudly, trying to get his younger brother's attention. "You ok?" he said, talking to Pony like an injured animal. Pony felt like one, too.
"I'm fine," he slurred, eyes closed.
"Sure look fine…" Steve muttered.
Two-Bit sat down next to Pony, who opened his eyes feeling the extra weight on the couch.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said, as Pony half-heartedly grinned, but Two-Bit's hand on his forehead made him almost jump out of his skin. "You're awful hot," he said worriedly. Then louder, "Hey Darry! Maybe we need to measure his temperature again.
"They'll do it at the clinic, Two-Bit," Darry said. He was nervous about what that number would be when they did.
Soda walked over to the couch and stood over his brother. Pony looked so frail that Soda almost felt like he was towering over him.
"Pone?" Pony's eyes fluttered open. "You're going to the doctor so he can figure out what's wrong with you," he said, "But it's really cold outside and you have a fever. You need to be dressed warm. So I brought you my sweatshirt. Can I help you put it on?" the sweater was still laying across Pony like a blanket. Soda picked it up in his hands.
"Yeah," Pony said in a tired voice, "Hey," Pony said suddenly, as if he had just woken up from a drunken stupor, "it's your University of Tulsa sweatshirt." Soda gently pulled it over his head.
The royal blue sweater just about swallowed him and the sleeves were a few inches too long. But Pony had always wanted to wear it - he liked the smell of it - and the gold lettering with crimson piping, of course.
It was the first time he had ever tried on the sweater. Too bad he couldn't enjoy it.
"It's hot," Pony said, pulling at the collar.
Darry was starting to get their things together, making sure he had the ski jacket, a blanket, and the jacket Pony always wore to school.
"I'm thirsty," Pony said in a meek voice. "Got anything to drink?" he said aloud to no one in particular.
"Want some beer?" Two-Bit joked, pointing to his half empty bottle on the coffee table.
"Keith!" Darry growled.
"What? Kid said he was thirsty...I'll get you some water, Pone," Two-Bit said, and he headed to the kitchen.
"Two-Bit, try to find my coffee thermos and put some water in there. We can bring it along, so Pony will have something to drink for the ride," Darry said.
"Hey Pone, you hungry? Want something to eat?" Soda tried, hoping he could coax his brother into some food before he hit the road. "We got some pancakes in the fri-"
"Mmm definitely not," Pony said. He hadn't exactly eaten in hours, but the last thing he was, was hungry. The thought of looking at food...smelling it...made him feel like he was going to hurl.
As usual, Pony hated that everyone was fussing over him and wondered in his haze if maybe Steve was tired of Soda's annoying kid brother.
He hadn't said anything...yet.
Two-Bit came back armed with the thermos of water and a separate glass for Pony. And that's when he saw it. The flakes outside were starting to fall.
"Well, go-lly!" Two-Bit whooped, "Would you look at that. It's snowing!" Every greaser in the room turned to look - well every greaser except Pony, who took the moment to close his eyes and rest.
Sure enough, the flakes were coming down strong and they were sticking to the window.
These weren't light and airy snowflakes. They were thick globs of sticky white ice.
"Pony, you don't want to see?" Soda asked his brother.
Pony made a gesture to shoo Soda away with a wave of his hand. His eyes remained closed, his head beginning to tilt to his left.
Now the boys really understood just how bad he was feeling. Not even the promise of snow was enough to energize him.
"Here's your water, kid," Two-Bit said, holding up the cup. He almost put the cold glass against Pony's cheek, but then decided against it. That kind of wake-up call would be too cruel. Pony opened his eyes the next moment anyway and took the cup with shaky fingers. Just as he began to drink, Steve jumped onto the couch on his knees to stare out the window, almost making him drop the glass in the process.
"Well, would you look at that?" Steve said, his eyes wide like a kid who was seeing snow for the first time.
Soda gave his older brother a stern look, "What did I tell you, Dar," he chided.
"We'll be FINE," Darry said quickly, emphasizing the last word. "Soda, quit worrying about me, and worry about your sick kid brother over there who needs help," he said, pointing to the couch where Pony was trembling ever so slightly. Soda's expression quickly changed to concern. "It's time to go, anyway," Darry said, "Pony, you ready?""
Ponyboy handed the glass back to Two-Bit.
"I'm not worried about you, anyway," Soda said trying to find a way to make his point. "I'm worried about the traction of those tires. We don't know that the truck is ready for snow."
"Can it, Soda. We'll manage. The truck's tires will hold up just fine. We'll be back soon anyway, I'm sure the snow won't get too bad. You don't need to worry," Darry said, and for him, the discussion was over.
"Yeah, Soda, don't worry that pretty little head of yours," Two-Bit teased.
"Two-Bit, I don't need your help!" Darry started. He began to collect items for the trip, throwing the ski jacket over his shoulder, and grabbing the thermos, and the blanket from the closet. He gave Pony's jacket to Soda, who sat down next to his baby brother to help ease him into it.
Soda pushed his kid brother's hair back. "Jesus, you're warm," he muttered aloud.
"Steve, be a buddy and help Soda take Pony out to the truck," Darry said.
Two-Bit was next to the door, keeping his face serious. "You think he needs a hat?" he questioned, hand on his chin and head tilted to the side as if in deep thought, "A nice furry pom pom? Or maybe a bonnet."
"Two-Bit -" Darry's words were clipped as a muscle twitched in his jaw. His eyes held a silent warning as Two-Bit's antics played on his last nerve.
"Whoa there, big guy," he said, holding his hands out in front of him in mock surrender. "I'm not kidding. It's cold out there,"
Darry already had his back to his friend, rummaging through the closet again. Once he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out of the pile and clutched it to his chest.
He had fond memories of that hat - the aviator style one lined with shearling and natural sheepskin on the inside. It was definitely not a hat the typical greaser would wear, but he remembered wearing it on family hunting trips - his dad beaming and patting his head because he would always get the most ducks.
It wasn't too hard - Soda and Pony were always goofing around anyway.
The hat would definitely keep Pony warm.
"Ponyboy?" Soda called out. "Can you get up?"
Pony's opened his eyes and looked up at Soda, the pupils shiny. "It's time to go?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, kiddo" Soda responded.
Pony started to get up, the sweater swallowing him. Soda helped him with a hand around the middle of his back. "Easy,"he said.
Pony leaned wearily against his brother. He was feeling unsteady and the world was foggy around the edges. The cold gust of air that blew into the house when they opened the door didn't help matters. Steve was on one side and Soda was on another and if Pony hadn't been so under the weather, he probably would have told Steve he didn't have to be there. But he could barely focus. At that point, he was only thinking about getting his legs to move forward without crumpling beneath him.
Darry had already gone ahead to turn on the car and let it heat up. He knew it would take a few minutes for it to get warm, but no matter - Pony was moving as slow as molasses.
The snow was starting to pick up as the guys filed out of the house head down in procession, like JDs at a court hearing. Darry decided to shrug out of their dad's ski jacket and leave the truck so he could put it over Pony's head as they walked.
He had on his own jacket, but cursed inwardly for not having a better one for himself, too.
Steve and Soda weren't even wearing jackets. The only one dressed appropriately for the weather was Two-Bit. He had at some point managed to put on the coat and scarf he'd taken off in the house.
Pony's cheeks were burning and snowflakes were sticking to his face like burnt ashes, despite Soda and Steve's careful meandering down the passage in front of the house. Darry came around to the driver's side of the vehicle as Soda and Steve led Pony to the other door.
"Damn, it's cold!" Darry hollered as Soda opened the passenger side door to gently press Pony inside. "Brr!" his lips rolled and he shook his head fervently from side to side as if he had lots of snow on it already.
There was a strange contrast between the cold air and the heated up vehicle. It wasn't Darry's favorite thing to do - let the heater go on for a while, as it would mean paying for gas that much sooner, but he knew he had to do it for Pony's sake.
As Soda helped Pony into the car, Darry slung the ski jacket over him backwards. The poor kid was still shivering and Darry thought for a moment to pull Pony close to him for body warmth, but decided against it.
Pony's head was against the back of the seat when Soda popped his own head through the window.
"Pony, you ok?" he asked to be sure.
"M'fine," Pony croaked, not even opening his eyes. Soda could barely hear him over the roar of the engine. "You were right, Soda," he grinned, trying to make his brother happy. "It's snowing!"
"You don't worry about that now," Soda drawled, his voice tinged with concern. He put his hand on Pony's forehead to smooth his hair back again, but he couldn't help feeling the fire emanating from his skin. "You listen to what the doctor says, Pony, you hear?"
"Soda," Darry said with a smirk. "Who's the guardian around here? " He didn't expect an answer and Soda didn't give him one.
"Darry, you call me before you leave the doctor," he said authoritatively, as if he hadn't heard a word Darry had just said. "Me and Steve-o here will come pick you up if we have to, won't we Stevie?"
Steve nodded in agreement.
"Sure thing, little buddy" Darry said, "but that's not going to happen." he added.
Pony yawned. "I'm going to sleep on the way," he told Darry.
"You do that, kiddo. It's probably about a 20 minute drive. Off the highway," he added.
He put a hand on Pony's head as he said it. The hair didn't have its signature grease in it, but it was damp from sweat and snow.
They drove away, Soda and Steve gazing after them, with Two-Bit on the porch near the front door of the house.
Soda wrapped his hands around himself, suddenly realizing just how cold it really was. He looked up at the sky, snowflakes wetting his cheeks and his eyes shifted.
"This storm…" he said aloud, "I don't like it one bit."
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