21. Waiting

Steve was grinning at me from across the store when I hung up the phone, and I couldn't even be mad, especially not when the grin pulled at the cut above his eye, a tiny drop of blood beading up and dripping down his face. He signed in irritation then, brushing it away impatiently. "Steve…" I started to grab a rag, but he flapped his hand at me irritably.

"Don't worry about it, Soda. Get back to work," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. I didn't blame him for being grumpy…and kind of on edge. We both were after what had happened last night.

I'd been so relieved. Darry had found someone to help us. A cop. We hadn't gotten to talk to Two-Bit or Dally about it yet, but Steve had been told everything and he'd been pretty excited too. He had tried to hide it, but I knew he missed Pony just as much as the rest of us. Sure, it had bugged my buddy sometimes when Pony had tagged along, but he took care of Pony just like the rest of us. I'd been excited to tell the others, too, especially Two-Bit. Two had been pretty upset, and this would cheer him up. He'd been drinking too much lately and getting into fights, which wasn't really like him…at least not without the rest of us to back him.

I'd grabbed my brother, too excited to sit still, and thank goodness I had. Otherwise, that brick might have hit me. Darry's arms had been tight around me, and for a second, all I could think was that we were finally going to get our brother back. The next thing I'd known, he'd thrown me onto the floor, landing on top of me and pushing the air out of my lungs, my head knocking against the floor as I'd seen stars for a second. The sound of the window shattering almost hadn't registered, and neither had Darry's voice until a few seconds later.

"Soda? Sodapop? You okay?" he'd asked, suddenly shaking me, and I'd pushed at his shoulder, head spinning.

"Get off, Darry…you're heavy." I'd groaned. His chuckle had been strained as he'd sat up, taking his weight off of me and resting a hand on my head. I'd grabbed his hand, looking around the room in confusion as I'd sat up slowly. "The hell? What was that?"

Instead of answering, he'd turned, stone-faced, to the middle of our living room where a brick sat, surrounded by broken glass, the breeze suddenly coming in through the window.

"Dar? What's going on?" I'd asked, the dots not connecting just yet.

"Someone just threw a damn brick through your window," Steve had snarled, answering for him.

"You alright?" Darry had asked me again, keeping a hand on my back as I'd reached up, trying to brush something out of my hair and cutting my hand in the process on some glass.

I'd swore under my breath, shaking my hand and watching blood well up. "I think so, yeah." I'd hit my head kind of hard, but other than that, and a few cuts, I'd been fine. "Steve, you okay?" I'd asked then.

"Yeah, man. I think a piece of glass just got me is all." He'd been bleeding from a cut over his eyebrow, but otherwise had seemed okay. Then he'd stood up, hands clenched as he'd glared out the window into the dark. Before he could take off, Darry had jumped up too, grabbing his arm. "We ain't gonna let…" he'd started, but Darry had shaken his head.

"Sit down," my brother had commanded, his voice sharp. After a second, Steve had complied, apparently realizing that Darry wasn't kidding around. "We ain't going after anybody. I'm gonna call that cop and let him know what happened."

"You're gonna call the fuzz?" Steve had sounded both disdainful and somewhat disbelieving, but Darry had tightened his grip on his shoulder.

"Whoever it was, they're probably with that asshole that hurt Pony. And we ain't gonna go getting into it with those people. I ain't gonna risk getting my little brother back, you got me?" he'd asked, voice low as he'd shaken him a little. Glaring a little but not about to argue, Steve had just grumbled a 'yeah.'

After making sure both of us were really alright, Darry had grabbed the first aid kit, putting a band aid on my hand where I'd cut it on the glass in my hair, and forcing one on Steve who had tried and failed to shake him off. Darry, knocking him upside the head, had just told him to be still, and Steve had grumbled but had let him clean out the cut on his face.

Pulling out the business card the cop had given him just that day, Darry had called the guy, explaining what had happened and assuring him that, no, none of us had been hurt.

Two-Bit had shown up when he'd been on the phone, throwing open the door and making us all jump. He'd apparently seen the window from the street, and had looked around at us wide-eyed. "What the hell happened?" he'd slurred a little, and Darry had rolled his eyes from where he'd been talking on the phone.

"Someone threw a brick through their window, what does it look like?" Steve had snapped, shoving past him to go into our kitchen. Two had swayed a little, grabbing the wall, and I'd jumped up, getting his arm over my shoulder and leading him to the recliner where he'd dropped.

"You guys okay?"

"We're fine, Two," I'd assured him. "What about you?"

"Fine." He'd waved me off, not convincing me at all considering he'd smelled like hard liquor, but I hadn't wanted to push. It wasn't none of my business how much Two-Bit drank. "You heard from the kid?"

I'd flinched. Now that I'd actually spoken to my little brother, as awful as he'd sounded on the phone, I felt a lot better, but at the time, I'd just shaken my head, and he'd nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

"I wanna kill him, you know. That guy. Pony's a real good kid. Hell, the best kid we've got around here. He shouldn't have had to go through something like that," Two-Bit had slurred, shaking his head. "Putting cigarettes out on his arm and beating him half to death…damn I'd like to find that guy." Steve had reached out, kicking Two-Bit, but I'd already headed to my bedroom, head between my knees as I'd tried to erase the images of someone hurting Pony like that…of him going through that alone.

I wouldn't have let it happen. If they'd have taken me too, I could have protected him.

"He really okay?" Steve asked, interrupting my thoughts as I wiped down the counter.

I decided to be honest. "I don't think so. I think he's getting sick or something…that's what he said. But I don't know how bad that guy hurt him before he got away. They found his blood all over that jacket…what if he's really hurt?"

"He's with a friend of Dal's, Sodapop. You know Dally…he's plenty mean but he wouldn't put Ponyboy and Johnny with anyone if he thought they wouldn't watch out for them."

"It ain't like he can go to the hospital or nothing," I grumbled, wishing I could call him back and demand answers. Or better yet, go and see him. But if I went to see him, I'd never come back. Not without him, and it wasn't safe yet. Besides, that guy knew where we lived. We both knew it had been Richard or, more likely, one of his pal's, who'd broken our window.

"Who's going to the hospital?" We both jumped a little at the voice as the bell over the door chimed. Dallas had his hands shoved in his pockets, and Tim Shepherd was with him, his eyebrow rising when he caught sight of the bleeding cut over Steve's eyebrow. I reached out a hand, shaking Tim's.

"Hey, Tim," I greeted, and Steve did the same.

"Happened to you?" Tim asked, almost amused as he nodded toward the cut that Steve wiped at impatiently.

"Someone threw a brick through Darry and Soda's living room window. Piece of glass got me," Steve told them, his voice blunt. Tim had lifted both eyebrows then, and Dal glared like it was Steve's fault.

"The hell, man?"

"You think it's that guy? Richard?"

"Or a pal of his, yeah. Darry called that cop that said he'd help us." The cop had shown up about a half hour later, taking notes and assuring us he'd file a report. I'd stayed in my bedroom the whole time and afterwards, Dar had come in, sitting beside me on Pony's bed where I'd been sleeping.

"You sure you're alright, little buddy. You hit your head…you need a doctor?"

"I'm fine," I'd assured him, hating that I was crying.

"Steve said Two-Bit said something stupid." Darry's voice had been dry. "That what's got you upset?"

"Nothing I didn't know," I'd muttered, wiping at my eyes. "I should have been with him," I'd told my brother then, my voice breaking, and his hand had dropped onto my shoulder.

"Sodapop, you can't honestly think this is your fault. Because it ain't. It's Richard's. Hell, it's mine too. But it sure as hell ain't yours."

"It ain't your fault," I'd told him. It had been the first time I'd said it out loud, and he'd rubbed my back for a second.

"Right now, we need to focus on getting him back…on making it safe for him to be here again. Okay? Blaming yourself ain't gonna help."

He was right, and I knew it. So, nodding, I had sat up, crossing my arms. "I'm worried about Two-Bit," I'd admitted quietly in case he could hear me.

"Yeah. Me too. I'll try to talk to him, alright? When he's sobered up."

I don't know if he'd gotten the chance or not, though. Two-Bit had slept on our couch under the window that we'd covered with some cardboard and tape until we could get it fixed, and had still been asleep when I'd left for work that morning and Darry had left to talk to Officer Charlton.

"You heard from the kid?" Tim asked, pulling my thoughts away from the night before, and I grinned a little.

"Yeah, he just called."

Tim softened just a little. "Good. He doing okay?"

I shrugged. "I think he's getting sick. Or maybe all of this is just getting to him."

"Yeah, he ain't really a tough kid, is he?" Tim didn't mean that in a bad way, not really. He liked Pony just fine, and he wasn't wrong. Pony wasn't like a lot of other kids his age that hung out on the streets and got into trouble. He wasn't hard or mean. Still, I bristled a little. Before I could say anything though, Dal spoke up.

"I don't know, man. He seemed pretty tough to me, last time I saw him."

I didn't know if Dally was just trying to stick up for Pony or if he really meant it. Either way, I hated the thought of my kid brother turning mean and hard on the streets because someone had beat it into him. I couldn't stand the thought of him turning out like Tim or Dally…as much as I respected both of them, Ponyboy was supposed to be better than all this.

"He said he was sick?" Dally asked.

"Said he might be getting sick." I shrugged, dropping the rag onto the counter and ignoring Tim when he swiped a candy bar. Steve rolled his eyes but didn't call him out or nothing. He'd had our backs enough times, it didn't matter if he took some chocolate or a pack of smokes every once in a while.

"Don't worry about it, Soda. I'm sure he'll be fine. He's probably just stressed out, you know?" Steve knocked me in the shoulder. Dally nodded but didn't look as convinced. I gave him a look, waiting, and he sighed.

"The kid didn't look too good when I, well, when I got him out of town. He'd lost a lot of blood and I don't think he'd been eating much. But the guy I sent him to stay with ain't gonna let nothing happen to him. He'll be fine."

"He said they got jobs," Steve put in, trying to distract me, probably, but it worked. I couldn't help my grin.

"Yeah. Him and Johnny are going to be working in a grocery store." As proud as I was that he was starting his first job, I couldn't help remembering that he was only fifteen. He shouldn't have to get a job just so he could have enough money to eat. He should be mowing lawns or something for spending money. Heck, Darry probably wouldn't even want him doing that. He wanted our brother to have enough time for schoolwork, and he'd see a job as something that would take up too much of his time. Plus I knew he hated that I had to work just so we could pay the bills, and I liked my job well enough. Pony would be miserable doing something like this for the rest of his life.

"It'll be fine, Sodapop. We're gonna get Pony home soon, and he can go back to being a pain in my ass." Steve was grinning, so I didn't hit him too hard.

Dally snorted. "I'll call them sometime this week and talk to Johnny or my buddy…see how the kid's really doing. Alright?"

I grinned. "Sure. Thanks, Dal."

"Sure thing." He glanced over at Tim. "I'm gonna head over to your place. Anybody keeping an eye on the house?"

"Darry's talking to that cop, so he might have someone watch the house or at least drive by." Tim didn't look too comfortable with that, but he didn't say nothing. I knew he was more concerned with getting this guy than the cops hanging around our neighborhood. Still, it would make all of us uneasy for a while. "Two-Bit's sleeping off a bender on our couch for whatever that's worth."

"Yeah, he's been worse than usual lately. Think's all this is his fault," Dally told us with a snort.

I paused, crossing my arms and leaning back against the counter. "Why the hell would he think that?"

"Something about not walking those kids home or something. Hell if I know."

Well, I guess that explained the drinking…well, some of it. As much as Darry and I had disapproved, he was always drinking around Ponyboy, even if, as far as I knew, Pony didn't follow in his footsteps. Pony really looked up to him, though, so we'd both worried. Still, Two-Bit always looked out for our brother, so we didn't say much about it. Now, though, he was getting black-out drunk about every weekend and spending most of his time at home or…well, not at our place. Maybe the bar.

"Darry said he was gonna try and talk to him," I put in, running a hand through my hair. "We're gonna need him, especially if that asshole's gonna send people after us."

"I'll send a couple of guys to keep an eye on things. Give me a call if you guys need anything, alright?"

"Sure thing. Thanks, Tim."

He nodded, and the two of them headed out, leaving Steve and me to our jobs, which I did my best to focus on.

The phone rang again around noon, and Steve was the first to grab it. I was about to head out and pump gas for the guy that had just pulled up outside when Steve called me back, handing me the phone and telling me he'd take care of it. At first, I hoped against hope that it was Pony again…that somehow I was lucky enough to get two calls in one day. I mean, he knew I wanted him to call me after he got off work, but maybe he wanted to talk before then.

It wasn't Pony, though. Instead, it was Darry who greeted me.

"What did the cop say?" I asked instead of offering any kind of 'hello.' He didn't seem mad about the somewhat rude greeting, though.

"He's gonna have some cops patrolling our neighborhood…keep an eye on our house. He said he's gonna try to talk to some of the cops in that city too…see what he can find out."

"Our neighbors are gonna love that. Just what we needed…cops on our street." I mean, I'd kind of figured. Still, it would be weird. We'd have to be careful not to get into any trouble.

Darry snorted on the phone. "Better that than one of us getting a brick to the head. We were lucky last night, little buddy. That could have done some real damage."

I just hummed in agreement, then got on with the real news. "Pony called," I told him, hardly able to contain the excitement.

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding as excited as I felt. "He say anything?"

"Yeah. Him and Johnny got a job. They're working at a grocery store, so at least they'll have money." Darry hummed in agreement, not sounding quite as excited anymore. "It's not like he's in school right now or nothing," I reminded him.

"I know," he mumbled, sighing on the other line. I knew he wouldn't be happy about it, but I was trying to look on the bright side.

"Besides, he promised to call tonight after he got off work. We can both talk to him…ask him how it went." And how he was feeling. I didn't tell Darry that part…no reason for him to worry. Instead, I let him get back to work and spent the rest of the day waiting for the chance to talk to my brother again.

Darry made dinner when we got home, but I just picked at it, despite him urging me to eat. Steve and Two-Bit were both at the house, eating dinner with us and keeping guard just in case something else happened. Two-Bit was, for the first time in a while, sober, and I wondered if Darry had gotten the chance to talk to him. Either way, he was drinking milk with dinner like the rest of us since we were out of soda.

I urged Steve to go out…to go to a poker game or a race or something. I knew he'd be bored to death, sitting around the house, but he just waved me off. "When's the kid gonna call?" he asked instead, dealing Two-Bit some cards. I wondered if it would do Two-Bit some good to talk to Ponyboy too. Maybe that would get him to ease up on the drinking.

"He said it would be about nine." I guessed if I did some research, I could figure out where he could be that was two hours ahead of us, but I was almost afraid to. If I did that, I'd really be tempted to go after him.

"So we all say hello, then we go out," Steve suggested, shrugging and offering some cards to Darry who took them, sitting in his recliner and leaning forward to play. Two-Bit scooted closer to the table, and I kept an eye on the phone by Darry's chair as I looked through my cards.

Nine o'clock came and went, and I felt Darry's eyes on me. Steve's too. Two-Bit just played the game, but I saw the light going out of his eyes as the minutes passed. He'd promised. He'd promised me he'd call, and he wouldn't break that promise unless something bad had happened.

It was nearly midnight when Darry put down his cards, Steve and Two-Bit following suit after a moment. Three of us had work the next day, and Two-Bit had promised to stick around the house until the guy came to fix the window.

"Soda…" Darry was worried too, but I didn't know if it was because of me or Ponyboy.

"He said he'd call," I almost snapped, glancing over at him, then back at the phone that sat silently, mocking me from the table.

"Soda, it's almost twelve…" His voice was gentle, his hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing. "Maybe he forgot. Or maybe he was tired after work and went right to bed."

"You can't believe that." I was shaking my head, trying to pull away from him and failing. "He said he'd call. He promised. He knows I'd worry." I knew I sounded pathetic...like when we'd been little and our dad had promised to take us fishing one weekend. Something had come up at the last minute, leaving me crying in my bedroom until Darry had come in. "He promised," I'd whined, crossing my arms and pouting but letting him throw his arm around me. He'd spoken in the same tone he used now.

"Sodapop…"

But I didn't let him finish. This wasn't a canceled fishing trip. This was Ponyboy.

"What if something happened to him, Dar? What if he's hurt? He said he was feeling sick…what if it's bad? What if he had to go to the hospital or something?"

Darry hesitated, and I knew he was upset that I hadn't told him that part. Still, he went on, not mentioning that just yet.

"Little buddy, there's nothing we can do. Johnny's with him, remember? And they're with Dally's friend. He'll look out for them."

Steve was staring at the table, jaw tight as he messed with his cards, halfheartedly shuffling them, but Two-Bit was watching us, his eyes stormy.

"We don't even know where he is," I choked out, dropping my head into my hands. "Or if he's okay, or…"

Darry crouched down in front of me, gripping my shoulders. "He's okay, Soda. He is. You just talked to him and he was fine. There's probably a good explanation. You can't spend all night worrying about him. You've gotta get some sleep, you dig?"

I forced myself to nod, letting him pull me to my feet.

"Go to bed, Soda. I'll wait up for a while…if he calls, I'll wake you."

I looked up at him, feeling about eight. "You promise?" I asked, somewhat kidding, but also hoping he would.

His eyes softened and he patted my back. "Yeah, little buddy. I promise. Go. Go to bed."

I started to. I really did. I was going to just leave it. But this was Ponyboy, and there was no way I was going to get any sleep until I knew he was okay...or at least until I tried to find out if he was okay.

So I slipped past Darry to get to the phone instead, grabbing the receiver and dialing.

"Soda…"

I shook my head, waiting for the ringing to stop and ignoring the eyes on me.

"Hello?" the somewhat familiar voice barked. In the background, country music that my brother would have hated blasted in my ears.

"Buck? It's Sodapop Curtis. Let me talk to Dallas."