8. Brothers
The knock on the door jolted me awake on Monday evening. I'd fallen asleep after work, laying back in the recliner in front of the TV like an old man, which was something I was doing more often now, and Soda usually just let me sleep. I figured Sodapop was in his room...his and Pony's room. He'd moved into our kid brother's room little by little, keeping most of his clothes in his own closet but moving some of his stuff to Pony's room over the eight months between losing our parents and that day they'd taken him. Pony certainly hadn't seemed to mind, so I hadn't been about to say anything. It had kept Pony from having so many of those nightmares...nightmares that made him wake up screaming some nights. They had woken the rest of us too, but with Soda close by, he could calm him down and get him back to sleep, two things our brother was better at than I was.
Soda snuck around the house these days, making sure not to slam the door when he came home and went straight to his room so he wouldn't wake me. Most nights he'd make dinner too, leaving me some on the stove, going to bed without waking me. Sometimes he'd go out with Steve...but not often. Not anymore. Tim had asked me about him once...Sodapop hadn't been going to his poker games or hanging out around town. The guys weren't hanging around the house as much either, and I wondered absently where Dally was as I rubbed my eyes. He wouldn't be knocking...he hadn't been around much lately, especially since the cop had told us that Pony was missing and Sodapop had asked him to keep an eye out.
Then again, it could be because I'd punched him in the face…but Dally didn't typically hold a grudge.
All of the guys had been asking around, looking for my little brother everywhere. Heck, Two-Bit had even checked under our house. I think he'd just been goofing around, and Soda had laughed a little, but I'd seen the disappointment in his eyes when Two-Bit hadn't found him anywhere. I'd gone to the movies more in the last week than I think I had in my entire life. I wasn't sure why he'd be hiding in a movie house instead of coming to me, but I was desperate.
At work, both while on the roof and at my warehouse job, I found myself looking for him, glancing around and finding it hard to keep my head on my job, which was how I'd nearly fallen off the roof the day before and hurt my back.
It had been almost a week since the cop had come by, and still, there was no word. That was always my first thought when I woke up...where was my brother? It had been since the day they'd taken him away, and now, after that cop had found his jacket...they still hadn't found a body. That's what I kept telling myself...Soda too. Nothing much got his spirits up these days, though, no matter how hard I tried. The guys were trying too, taking Soda out whenever he'd go, trying to take his mind off of everything, and Tim had all his guys looking out for Pony.
It seemed the whole city was looking for my brother, but still no luck.
Jumping up, I yanked the door open, hoping against hope to find Ponyboy or at least a cop with some answers. Instead, I found two guys, both pretty tough looking, who regarded me nervously. Both were almost my height, probably Soda's age, though. I'd never seen them around, and they wore their hair short, cropped and combed back but not greased. They weren't greasers, that was for sure, but they weren't socs, which was obvious as they wore old jeans and scuffed up sneakers. They were pretty similar looking, and I figured they must be brothers, or cousins or something.
Behind me, I heard Soda come into the living room. Steve and Two-Bit had gone out somewhere with Johnny and Dal, so I wasn't looking for them to come around anytime soon. We were on our own in the house now, but Soda and I could take them if it was a fight they wanted for whatever reason. I didn't recognize them but it didn't matter much. I hadn't had the chance to beat anyone up lately, and I felt like a good fight might make me feel better.
"Can I help you?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorjamb. Behind them, parked in our street, was a beat up old car that Steve would love to get a hold of. Soda stood at my side, his arms crossed as we blocked the door.
"Yeah...you Ponyboy's brothers?"
I narrowed my eyes, flinching a little at my little brother's name. No one talked about him around me...not after Steve had made some stupid joke and I'd almost broken his jaw. I still kind of wished I had.
I nodded slowly, a knot forming in my stomach. "We are. Who're you?"
"His other brothers." The slightly shorter one smirked as he said it, the amused expression dropping after only a half second. "We shared a house with him for a bit before he went missing."
I nodded, glancing back at Soda. I knew from his expression that he, too, was wondering what they were doing here.
"We...uh...we need to talk to you. If that's alright." The taller one was quieter, not at all amused by any of this. In fact, he looked kind of worried, glancing around like a gang of hoods was gonna jump him any second. They really weren't from around here.
Nodding, I stepped back. "Come on in," I invited, gesturing for them to come into the living room.
"I'm Mark," the taller one introduced himself, holding out a hand that I shook. "This is my cousin, Tyler."
"Darrel. This is Sodapop."
They both smiled faintly at that. "Ponyboy and Sodadpop huh?" Tyler asked, smirking a bit again, but not mean. I knew Soda wouldn't take it well though. Then he kept talking, taking both of us aback when he softened a little. "Ponyboy told us he had a brother named Sodapop. How'd you get the normal name?"
I shrugged. "Named after our dad," I told him shortly.
Tyler smiled. "We thought he was kidding at first...he was a pretty quiet kid, but he used to yell for you two in his sleep for the first week or so. Woke us up about every night. The rest of the house, too."
Mark grimaced at that, but not like he was upset with Pony. More like he was remembering something awful.
"How did the rest of the house take that?" I asked flatly. I couldn't think about my little brother yelling for me every night. Not now, when I needed to hold myself together. Mark clenched his jaw, not meeting my eyes, but Tyler was brave enough to talk to me.
"You gotta understand something, okay? We lived with my dad for a long time, but the bastard just about killed us. Hell, he hit me with a truck once, and that wasn't the worst of it. We got put in four different foster homes after they took us away from him...we were twelve. Mark's dad died when he was four." If Mark minded his cousin telling this story he sure didn't show it…just kept looking at the wall past my head. "The first place was...it was bad. I missed my dad most nights. He wasn't as bad as those people. The second one had seven other kids, all older than us, and the third lasted until our foster parents, a real old couple, had to go into a home or something. So we were really hoping this one would be the last one. I'll be eighteen in less than four months. Mark's birthday is a few weeks after."
Mark took over then, quieter but still tough sounding. His eyes were flat, looking at us but not really seeing us. "We were put in that house a year ago, and it was bad from the start. There were some older guys and girls then, but they're all gone except for one. Rita's been in that house for years...she's only got a month left. The others tried to beat on us, but we'd learned how to fight growing up...still, it was like living in a war zone until those guys were gone. Then last year...the foster dad, Richard...he started drinking more, especially after work. Always in a lousy mood. He'd always hit you if you got too close, but then he started coming to find us."
Soda blinked a few times, glancing over at me. I, too, was having trouble keeping up.
"The worst part is, he's got friends. Everywhere," Tyler told us, leaning in and speaking kind of quiet like those friends might be in our living room. "He'd have his friends from the police force over for dinner one night, then a bunch of bartenders and hoods the next...no offense." I rolled my eyes but was too concerned with where this story was going to correct him. "Then there were the social workers. He loved them. He'd have em over on the weekends when his wife was out working a second job. So you can see why we were willing to lay low...keep our traps shut and wait."
"Then eight months ago, a girl moves in. She's fifteen...smart mouthed and rude, but most fifteen-year-olds are." I knew Steve would agree with Mark on that. Beside me, Soda was getting kind of pale, and I hoped this story didn't go where I thought it was going.
Tyler chimed in, apparently taking turns with Mark in telling us this awful story as they spoke in quiet voices like they were afraid of being overheard. "She was only there a month before she disappeared. The cops made an effort, I guess, but good old Ricky told them she'd been threatening to run since the day she got there…that she wanted to go back to her family. Of course, her family's in Kansas...lots of stuff can happen to a fifteen-year-old girl between here and there, huh?"
I leaned in a little, the knot in my stomach growing. "You think…"
Mark cut me off. "Your brother showed up next. Rick hated him from the start. That kid was smart."
"Is," Sodapop cut in, his eyes cold. "He is smart."
Mark nodded slowly but didn't comment on the interruption. "To answer your question, though, Rick didn't take too kindly at all to being woken up in the middle of the night that first week. He took it out on the kid about every night unless he was passed out, too drunk to notice."
"Took it out on him?" Soda asked too quietly. I remembered how Pony would wake up from the nightmares sometimes, wide-eyed and crying as he would cling to Soda and fight to get his breath. I didn't know if I could hear this.
"Knock him upside the head. Kick him, if the kid tried to get away from him. That ain't the worst, though. Your kid brother, he's a smoker." He told us a bit hesitantly.
I nodded, showing him I already knew that...I didn't know how to take any of this in. I wanted to demand the address, follow them home, and kill someone...but how would I ever get my brother back from prison?
"Kid smokes like a chimney. Rick has a method of breaking smokers. Anytime he caught us doing it, he'd put 'em out on our arms, and if we were lucky, he'd leave it at that."
I thought Sodapop might throw up...hell, I thought I might throw up. I wanted to meet this guy and put some cigarettes out on his arms...then kill him. Hell, I'd shove those cigarettes down his throat if I caught him touching my brother...but he already had.
Mark shifted, holding his wrist like it was hurting him, and pulled up his sleeve. Beside me, I felt Sodapop go stiff, making a noise like he was gonna throw up. I couldn't react though...it was like all the air had been sucked out of the living room.
"He did that to Pony?" My voice was rough and quiet...I was ready to kill. My eyes were hot and I was afraid I'd start bawling in front of these strangers. Dally had mentioned that Pony had been wearing long sleeves...like he was moving like he was hurting, but to hear them confirm it...I was going to kill this guy.
"The kid wouldn't quit," Tyler told us, an admiring light in his eyes. He kind of reminded me of Dally just then. "I'll give him that...he was determined to smoke...well, up until the end. We'd hear him screaming on the porch at night and we knew he'd been caught. After that first time though, about a week after he came to live with us, your kid brother made a big mistake. He talked to the social worker."
"The social worker that Rick was sleeping with," Mark put in, eyes downcast. I wondered if he'd made the same mistake at some point.
"Rick told him he'd kill him...or something like that. Told him he'd come after you two, too. The kid was quieter after that, but he still smoked and he still made smart remarks sometimes...got himself punished plenty. He wore long-sleeved shirts to school, even when it was hot out. He quit talking altogether after a couple of months...until the girl came. Her name was Lianne."
"The one they...found?" I asked, remembering our conversation with the cop and wondering if they'd been close.
Tyler sighed. "Yeah. She was mouthy, like the other girl. The first time Rick caught her smoking, he tried that old trick. Ponyboy grabbed her cigarette before he could get to it and threw it out the window. The girl was smart...she beat it out of there, and Rick got him right in the face...had him down and was kicking him before his wife told him he'd better stop. Just like that." Tyler grinned bitterly. "'Ricky you better stop...don't wanna kill him.' Bitch. She's as bad as he is."
"Was...did he…" Soda was struggling for words and Mark took pity on him. I was glad Soda had asked...I certainly couldn't. All I could see was red, but still, I had to hear this
"He got up. Probably pissed blood for a few days, but the girl sure didn't smoke at the house after that. She apologized to him. He didn't care though. He kept an eye out for her. Protected her whenever he could. But he couldn't always...Rick...I can't be sure, but her and Rita…" He trailed off, ears kind of red as he looked away, and I wondered if he was embarrassed to tell us or ashamed that he hadn't stopped it.
"There wasn't nothing we could do. Like I said, he had friends, and one girl had already disappeared," Tyler told us in a hard voice, as though we'd accused him.
"Pony?" Soda asked in a strangled voice. I couldn't even talk...couldn't even imagine someone doing something like that to my baby brother.
"No," Mark told us simply. "The kid shared a room with us when he slept at the house. We would have known. He didn't go for boys anyway."
"What do you mean, 'when he slept at the house?'" I asked, forcing the words out. Where had Ponyboy been sleeping?
"Kid left in the middle of the night most nights, especially after the social worker brought him back. Sometimes he'd sneak back into our room in the morning. Rick didn't care, and we didn't pay too much attention. He looked after himself."
I wanted to tell them that he was only fourteen...fifteen now. That he shouldn't have had to look after himself yet. But that wasn't their problem. There was a brief silence, but it seemed Tyler was anxious to have this over with.
"A few days ago, Lianne started screaming at him. He'd been beating on her and she was fighting back...she usually did. He'd give her a black eye and he'd get a bloody nose for his troubles. Called him a good for nothing pig. Told him she hoped he got shot by one of his worthless friends. Then she told him she was gonna tell the cops what he did to us until someone listened. He told her she'd regret that. Then…"
"We ain't testifying against him," Mark told us suddenly, interrupting his cousin. "What we're telling you...well, it's your word against ours. Bet anything Rita won't talk either. Hell, Rita barely talks as it is. I don't know if she'll ever be right after all this. As soon as I turn eighteen, we're getting the hell out of here. Canada or Mexico or something...somewhere he can't reach. He's dangerous. We're just telling you because…"
"Because you deserve to know what happened to him," Tyler looked at us, waiting. "Savvy?"
I hated both of them, even if I had no right to. In their situation, I'd do anything to protect my family, even if it meant someone else had to suffer for it. I knew the score, though. That Rick guy had too many friends in too many places for us to fight him. By ourselves, anyway, but these guys didn't know what kind of friends we had. I thought of Tim and his gang...of Dally and whatever strings those two could pull. I'd owe them for life but it would be worth it. Hell, maybe we could even find a cop that didn't hate greasers and who would be on our side. I thought about the cop who'd come to the house a few days ago…he hadn't seemed to hate us. At the moment, though, I needed to know what had happened to Ponyboy. So I nodded.
"Tell me what happened to my little brother."
"To be honest, we don't know a whole lot. It was Sunday...or real early Monday morning. Probably one o'clock. Lianna and Ponyboy weren't around. Ponyboy usually split on the weekends, but he was always back for school Monday so no one cared. Rick liked it better when we made ourselves pretty scarce on his days off anyway. He figured that out real quick," Tyler told us. "We got back late on Sunday night and heard Rick come in. We were in the kitchen...he was bloody, like he'd been shot or something. Had a broken nose and a black eye. A friend of his...an old cop who'd been his buddy growing up and who'd kill for him now, told him 'they'd find that little shit.'"
"They didn't see us," Mark explained. "He told the cop they'd better find him...said he wasn't losing everything over some kid. We didn't know who he was talking about until he told the cop he never should have taken in 'that piece of shit delinquent' a few months ago. We hightailed it outta there and slept with a friend. He was on the warpath. Lianne didn't come back. Neither did Ponyboy, but on Monday night, before they called the cops, the bitch told us to tell the cops that we'd seen Ponyboy and Lianne leaving for school that morning."
Tyler rolled his eyes. "She was nervous. They probably figured three missing kids in a year was bound to get attention, no matter how many friends her husband had. We did what she said. Like I said, we're getting out soon."
Sodapop was staring at them, eyes wide and flat like he was in shock. Mark met his gaze, then leaned in. "I don't think Rick's found him yet. He's probably on the run." I glanced over at Sodapop and knew he was thinking what I was thinking. They found his jacket, covered in blood. What did that mean? "The police brought the kid's file to the house, even though his family was supposed to be confidential, at least until you two got a hearing to get him back. So Rick knows who you are now. You got friends?"
"Oh yeah." I knew Soda was thinking of Tim and his gang, and all the pals Dally had around the city.
"Keep 'em close. Real close," Tyler told us, starting to get up. "When Ponyboy first got to the house, we tried to rough him up a bit...show him that we weren't letting some hood take over our place. Kid fought back...he's tough. He never messed with
our stuff though, and he kept to himself. He's a good kid, and I hope you find him before Rick does." And then they were standing, nodding goodbye. Right before they got to the door, though, Mark turned.
"By the way, a few months ago, right after Lianne got put with us, some guy gave Ponyboy a ride home from school. Tough looking guy...they sat out in his car in front of the house before Lianne told Ponyboy he'd better come in...Rick was on his way home. He didn't go to our school, as far as I know. Long, blond hair, but not greasy like the kid's. Leather jacket. We saw him around sometimes, driving by the house, but we only saw him with the kid once."
I exchanged a look with Sodapop and nodded. "Yeah. He's a buddy of ours."
The boys both nodded, and then they were gone, and I knew I needed to talk to Soda...to try and comfort him. But all I could think about was the growing list of evidence that my little brother was gone for good. That I'd lost him, just like I'd lost my parents, and I didn't know how I was ever going to be able to live with that.
