22. Working
Pony was getting sick, or already was sick, or something, which didn't bode well for us. We had to work and get money to pay for food and stuff, and probably start saving for a ticket back home if that time ever came. Course, he had three years left until he turned eighteen if it came to waiting that long, but I really hoped it didn't. This place was fine for now, but I doubted James would want us hanging around that long.
Strangely enough, it seemed like James liked me and Pony well enough, Pony especially. Earlier, when Pony had gone to the payphone call his brother, James had come out of his room, lifting an eyebrow at me on the sofa. "Where's the other one?" he'd asked, crossing his arms. He was trying to act like he didn't care much one way or the other, but I could tell he was just bluffing. A lifetime of dealing with Dal had taught me that.
"Went to call his brother."
"Hm." James stared at the door for a second, then crossed his arms, leaning in a little. "You sure his brothers didn't do that to him?" he asked, quiet, like Pony was in the room. I shook my head. Sure, Darry had hit him once, but no way he'd ever do something like this. Soda neither. Glory, I'm kind of surprised that Soda didn't hit Darry for that. Soda was more protective of Pony than anyone.
"No way. He was in a foster home." I told him, sure that James wouldn't tell anybody. Especially since Dally was trusting him to…well…not really look after us, but something along those lines. Give us a place to stay at the very least.
"They get the guy?" he asked, looking upset."
I'd shaken my head. "That's why he's hiding out up here."
"Yeah...what about you?"
Pausing for a second, I'd just shrugged. "He's my best friend. Couldn't let him live up here all by himself." He'd nodded at that, almost approvingly. "We start working today," I'd told him then, not sure why but figuring he might want to know.
"Yeah? Who hired the two of you?"
It was so close to something Dally might say that I'd grinned a little. "Grocery store a little ways from here. Not too far…we'll be doing stock."
"Not a bad gig. What time you get off?"
"Around eleven."
He'd hummed again. "Let me know if you run into any trouble. Dally said the kid's big brother would come after me if I let anything happen to him, so I guess yous two are my problem now." He hadn't sounded too upset about it, just ambling off and out the door, and not long after, Pony had come back, looking drained and tired but not willing to talk about it.
Pony and I headed to the movies, neither of us really into it, but we went through the motions anyway. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closing occasionally, and I knew he was nodding off. I figured he must be awful tired. Usually, he really liked the movies. I wondered if I should call Darry or something, or maybe Dally. Dally might be better. Darry would freak out, but he might know better what to do. Or maybe Dally would know better. I didn't know. Heck, I even thought about talking to James.
Pony didn't really get sick too often. None of us did. But right after his parents had died, he'd kind of stopped hanging out with anyone, not talking much and not eating either. It was how he was now, actually. Maybe that's just how he dealt with stuff like this. Either way, Darry had been real worried, and had done his best to bring Pony out of it, but I knew that he was awful upset about his parents and trying to get custody of his brothers and worrying about Sodapop dropping out of school. Then when we'd come back from stabbing that soc, Pone had gotten kind of sick and Darry had kept him in bed, making sure he got soup and drank enough water and everything. Maybe he would be the better person to call…he was used to looking after his little brothers and he'd know what to do if Pony was getting sick.
When the movie was over, Ponyboy and I hung around the movie house, killing time until it was time for us to head to work. I'd never had a job before, and I had to admit, I was kind of nervous. What if we got fired? Or what if the police found us because someone spotted us working? I mean, Pony didn't look the same. Heck, with that scar and how skinny he was, not to mention the blond hair, I doubted even his brothers would recognize him at first. I looked the same, though.
I wondered if my parents would even look for me. Pony hadn't said anything about it, and I knew he would have asked after I asked him to. So apparently no one was looking for me. Dally would be the only one who would have cared, if I was honest…well…maybe Darry and Soda…and the guys. Just not my parents. Heck, they were probably glad I was gone. For a second, I was jealous of Pony. Darry and Soda loved him so much, and they were probably scared to death for him, and I knew they missed him. His parents, too, when they'd been alive, had loved him and wanted him and glory, I wish I had that. Then I remembered that he'd lost his parents and wondered which was worse, parents that didn't want you or parents that were dead. I glanced over at Pony as we started up the street where we'd be working and immediately felt bad for even thinking that. It didn't matter who had it worse. It sucked that my parents didn't want me around and it sucked that his parents had died before he turned fourteen.
We got to the store about ten minutes early, pushing the door open and looking around. There weren't many customers in the store, just a man with a little kid around six, both of whom stopped reading the labels of the stuff on the shelves and stared at us. We were the only white people around, and a guy around Darry's age crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow and glancing between us and Sue who had jumped off her stool and was waving at us. "Hey Mike. Patrick."
Pony grinned and I wondered if he liked her. I'd never really known him to actually like a girl, but I guessed there was a first time for everyone. I thought back to the pretty girl in my math class and immediately pushed that thought away. She hadn't even known I'd been alive, anyway, and I'd never said anything more than 'hi' to her in the class. She'd been a soc, and no way a soc girl wanted anything to do with a greaser like me.
"Hey, Sue." He waved a little, obviously trying to shake himself and wake up. He looked awful tired, still, with dark circles under his eyes.
"How are you guys?" she asked. She was wearing a green dress that matched the green ribbons in her hair, and she really did look happy to see us.
"We're fine." He grinned, glancing over at me, and I nodded.
"Yeah, ready to work," I put in.
"I'm glad to hear it," Mr. Willams told us as we emerged from the back, giving what almost looked like an approving smile and ignoring how we both jumped. I felt the eyes of everyone else in the store but he didn't seem bothered. "You're early. Good. And you're ready to work?" he confirmed.
"Yes sir," I answered for both of us, and Pony nodded. Thankfully, Mr. Williams didn't give him much of a second glance. I hoped he didn't notice and ask him to go home. We really did need money, since we were running out of food, and I wondered when we would get paid. I had some of the money I'd stolen from my old man left but we would need to buy bus tickets, hopefully, sooner rather than later, and those were kind of expensive. Besides, we needed to keep buying food if we wanted to keep eating, and that money I'd brought would run out pretty soon.
"Follow me, then," he instructed, pushing the door open to the back, and we followed, the door swinging shut beside us. The back room was like a warehouse, with boxes stacked up against the walls and a cluttered desk in the middle, covered in clipboards and papers. In the back was a sofa and a couple of metal folding chairs, which I assumed was the break room. "That's my desk. Don't touch anything except for this clipboard. This is where you're going to be keeping track of the stock that comes in and what goes on the shelves. Got it?"
We both nodded but glancing over at Pony, I knew he was having some trouble keeping up. His eyes were glazed, and I figured he had a fever or something. Either way, he was trying, and I would cover for him if I had to. I wondered if James had any aspirin at the house, or if we'd have to buy some. Or maybe he needed to see a doctor. Not that we could afford that.
"Through that door is the kitchen. If you want to bring sandwiches for dinner or something, there's an icebox you can use. There's a sink too, and glasses if you want water." I thought that some water might help Pony out, but I didn't want to suggest it just yet. Instead, I tried to focus on Mr. Williams as he explained everything to us so I could explain it to Pony later.
"You're going to be putting away stock and cleaning up the store when you're done. Sweeping the floor, dusting, and cleaning the windows. Extra stock is back here…" He pointed to the wall of boxes. "And you'll be refilling the shelves. Once a week, you'll unload the truck and put the new boxes away and take the old ones to recycling." He spoke quickly, grabbing two aprons from a hook by the door and tossing them to us. I caught them both, handing one to Ponyboy and nudging him a little when he just stood there.
"Put it on, man," I murmured as I slipped it over my head, tying it in the back. He did the same, rubbing his eyes and nodding, tying a clumsy knot behind his back.
"The store closes at 8, so you'll be locking up when you finish at 11. Drop the key in the mail slot after you're done." We both nodded to show we were keeping up. "I'll do it tonight…I'll be staying to show you what needs to be done before 11, but tomorrow I'll be going home at 9."
"Yes sir," I spoke up, and Pony was a few seconds behind with his answer. I gave him another look, but it wasn't like I could do anything or say anything with Mr. Williams in the room with us. I hoped he would leave us alone at some point so I could check on my friend. Meanwhile, we followed him around the back stockroom where he showed us where everything was, which I'd probably forget soon, but hopefully we could figure it out as we went. There were tons of boxes everywhere, and only a few were labeled, but there had to be some kind of order.
After walking us through the boxes and where everything was, he led us out to the front of the store where, once more, we found ourselves with the undivided attention of every single person in the store, all of whom were giving us weird looks. We were still the only white people in the store, and I wondered if they thought we were gonna cause trouble or something. I figured they'd realize soon enough that we just wanted to work. The big guy that had given us weird looks was still around, this time talking to Sue at the front by the register. She shook her head, glancing over at us and waving a hand carelessly through the air, apparently dismissing whatever he was saying.
We started with cans of vegetables and other stuff that went at the back of the store, restocking from boxes we found in the backroom as Mr. Williams showed us where everything went. I did my best to remember, knowing Pony was going to have more trouble since he was just doing his best to stay upright. I tried to keep an eye on him and do most of the work, hoping that Mr. Williams didn't notice how slow he was going and think he was lazy or something. He nodded when I asked if he was okay, and even though I didn't believe him, I couldn't exactly interrogate him while we were trying to work.
The customers walked around us, some of them giving us weird looks but mostly ignoring us. We were given rags to dust the shelves and brooms to sweep the floor and that took us all the way until the store was closing and people were going to Sue who was ringing them up. One guy, the one who'd been talking to Sue, kept an eye on us for a whole hour, one time going so far as to bump into Pony as he walked by. Ponyboy just stumbled a little, giving him a wide-eyed, almost scared look, but before I'd been able to say anything or get him away from my friend, Mr. Williams had walked over, dropping a hand on the guy's shoulder and giving him a look. He'd left after that.
At eight, the store closed, and Mr. Williams showed us how to lock the door as soon as the last customers had left. Sue headed home then too, wishing us luck, and Mr. Williams pulled out a couple of boxes. "Most of the stocking should be done after eight so you don't get in the way of my customers. Anything that looks low, you'll restock. Make sure to put the new stuff behind the old stuff…rotate the stock and all that." I nodded, and Pony did too after a second when I nudged him. Mr. Williams didn't seem to notice the delay. "If we're out of anything back here, write it on the clipboard there, and I'll order more." We both nodded. "For now, start on the top shelves and work your way down."
Pony and I both grabbed ladders from the back room and climbed up to the top shelves with the boxes our new boss had instructed us to put away. When Mr. Williams finally left us alone, I asked Ponyboy if he was okay, but he assured me that he was fine. I didn't believe it, but I didn't question him anymore, figuring that we'd better get to work.
I did my best to keep an eye on Pony as I worked putting the jars of sauce on the shelves. Pushing them to the back of the shelves and making sure to rotate the older jars to the front, I kept my feet firm on the ladder, gripping the shelf with one hand as I worked with the other. Pony was pale, his eyes unfocused as he worked. "Hey? You okay?" I asked again.
"Mhm," he murmured, staring at the box in his hand.
"P…Mike?" I called, glancing over at the closed door where Mr. Williams was working.
Suddenly his eyes closed, his hands slipping from the ladder as he seemed to crumple, his body hitting the floor with a dull thump. Jumping off the ladder, I swore and ran over to his side, making sure to balance the box of sauce jars on the shelf so they wouldn't break. "Ponyboy!" I called, dropping to my knees beside him and grabbing his shoulders, shaking him as hard as I dared, but he was out. Thankfully he'd been putting boxes of pasta on the shelf, so nothing was broken, and there was no glass to deal with. He'd hit his head though. His face was hot when I patted him on the cheek. "Ponyboy! Come on, man," I murmured, jumping when I glanced up to find Mr. Williams standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and incredulous.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, kneeling beside Ponyboy and touching his shoulder. "What happened?"
"He…he fell…" I tried to explain. He narrowed his eyes, glaring a little as he got a closer look at Pony who was pale, his cheeks flushed.
"Is he on something? I told you…"
I shook my head, wide-eyed, scared we were gonna lose our job on our first day, or worse, that he'd call the cops. "No! He's sick. He's been sick and…we started work today and we couldn't miss our first day and…"
Mr. Williams seemed to be ignoring me, reaching out for Pony's arm and pulling back his sleeve. "Is he overheated? I wouldn't doubt it, dressed like that in long…sleeves." He trailed off when the sleeve was up to his elbow. We both froze at the sight, his wide eyes seeking mine. I averted my eyes, staring at the floor instead and feeling ashamed. He hadn't wanted me to see, and now I knew why. Mr. Williams pulled his own hand back, jaw clenching as he stared at the long rows of red burns. Several of them were white and must have been from right before he'd run away.
He'd lied before…they had to hurt still.
"I think you need to tell me what's going on," Mr. Williams spoke in a murmur, taking his wrist and feeling for a pulse, careful of the burns. It was hard…they were all over his arm, almost all the way up to the back of his hand.
"Is he okay?" I had to ask, reaching out and touching my friend's shoulder.
"His pulse is strong, but he does have a fever. I think he might have hurt his wrist but I'm not sure. He needs rest and fluids…a doctor wouldn't hurt."
"We can't afford it," I told him immediately, shaking my head.
"Aren't you staying with your cousin?"
I sighed. "He can't afford it either."
He gave me a long, searching look, getting his arms under my friend and lifting easily. "He's awfully light…how long has he been sick?" he asked, heading into the back room, me at his heels as he pushed the door open, careful not to hit Pony's head on the wall. He headed right for the break area, dropping my friend carefully onto the sofa in the back and touching his forehead again.
"I…I'm not sure. A few days at least."
He hummed, face critical. "There's Aspirin in my desk…that will help with his fever, and the headache he's going to have."
I ran to grab it, and he disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. He managed to get Pony to swallow the pills, his hand resting on my friend's shoulder for a second. I could see that he was a father…a good one. One that actually cared about his daughter, and, apparently, random stock boys that collapsed at work.
"Alright, Patrick. How about you tell me what's going on? Starting with the name 'Ponyboy.'"
I swore under my breath, staring down at the floor for a second. So he'd heard that. I couldn't tell him that…I couldn't be the reason that man found my friend again. For a long time, I was silent, and Mr. Williams heaved a long sigh.
"Okay…how about you start with who did that to him?" He gestured to Pony's arm, covered in those awful burns.
I swallowed hard, trying to think of a way to put it without exposing us. "He got put with a foster family. The man put out cigarettes out on his arms when he smoked," I told him, not meeting his eyes.
"What about you?" he asked, looking at my bare arms. "You don't smoke?"
"Yeah, I do." I smirked a little. "I wasn't put with a foster family." He kept staring at me and I decided to just tell him some of the truth. "I lived with my parents. His parents are dead, though. He lived with his big brother, but he got in some trouble and they put him in a boy's home…and then he got put with that foster family. That foster father…he was gonna kill him." I met his eyes for the first time, jaw tight as I hoped he wouldn't out us...that he saw how serious I was. "He ran away. Our friend helped him get away, and I came up here when I found out he was alone."
"Where are you really living?" Mr. Williams asked after a moment.
"Our friend knows a guy in the city. He's letting us stay with him while we're here. We gotta buy our own food and stuff though, so we need this job."
"How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen."
"And…Mike?"
He'd know if I lied. I stared down at my feet for a moment, cringing. "Fifteen," I murmured. He sighed, clasping his hands on his lap. "Please…if you gotta fire us, then…then that's…I mean, we'll figure something else out. But…Mr. Williams, please don't tell anyone. Please. That man…he's still looking for Po…Mike. And if he finds him, he'll kill him."
"Why?"
"He…Mike saw him do something bad. And that guy knows he saw him."
Mr. Williams was quiet for a long time. Not able to stand it anymore, I pulled my friend's sleeve back down to his wrist. He didn't want me to see it…didn't want anyone to, so I could respect that at least. Finally, our boss looked up at me. "So you aren't brothers?"
"We are in every way that matters. He's my best friend, and I can't let someone hurt him. Not again."
"If he doesn't wake up by morning, he'll have to go to the hospital," Mr. Williams told me eventually. "He hit his head pretty hard…I heard him from back here. Go on out and finish putting the boxes away. He'll be okay here."
"You aren't going to tell?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.
"You know, Sue wouldn't tell me exactly what he did to help her, but I know she was scared and this young man helped her. Besides, he's just a kid. I'm not going to send him back to a man that's going to hurt him." I smiled; nodding and feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. "Go on, finish up for the night. He'll be okay here for a while." He dropped a hand on my buddy's shoulder, but Pony didn't move.
I headed back out onto the floor, climbing on the ladder and pushing the jars back onto the shelf. What if he wasn't okay? I couldn't help that thought. Should I call his brothers? Would Darry want to know that Pony was sick? Or Sodapop? Should I call Dally and explain? What about James? How would I get him home?
The questions floated around in my head as I worked, then climbed back down the ladder and to where Pony had been putting away the crackers. I worked for almost two hours before I finally finished stocking the shelves and cleaning up, then all but ran to the back room to find my friend still out of it, Mr. Williams crouching beside him, his hand on Pony's forehead. "Mike?" He was speaking quietly, shaking him a little, and I moved to stand beside them, crouching down by the couch. Mr. Williams glanced up at me as I joined them.
"Nothing?" I asked.
"Not yet. His fever's still up…"
"I didn't know how sick he was," I murmured, crossing my arms defensively. "He seemed okay earlier."
"He might have just gotten dizzy, up on that ladder." Mr. Williams stood to his full height, regarding the two of us with a serious expression. "As soon as he wakes up, you can take him home. He needs to rest…do you think he'll be able to walk?"
"Yeah. I'll get him home." I didn't know how…but I wasn't about to ask this guy, our new boss, to help. Mr. Williams nodded and patted me on the shoulder.
"I'm going to get some work done. I'll be at my desk. Let me know when he wakes up."
"Yes sir…thank you," I murmured, staying where I was at Pony's side, glad that he didn't want me to keep working while my friend was sick. I knelt on the floor, putting the back of my hand on his forehead. He was hot.
I stood up, glancing at Mr. Williams who was sitting at his desk. As if he could feel me looking, he glanced up. "He's real hot…can I get a washcloth or something?" I asked, fighting not to cross my arms defensively. It wouldn't exactly endear me to our boss, but I hated asking grown ups for things.
To my surprise, he nodded, standing and heading into the little kitchen, then emerging with a washcloth he'd soaked with cold water and rung out. I took it, thanking him in a voice just above a mumble, then crouched beside my friend again, holding it to his forehead. He flinched a little, shifting away from me, and I put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't open his eyes, though. Biting my lip, I wondered if I ought to ask to use the phone to call his brothers or something. But they'd just worry, and there was nothing I could tell them yet. Instead, I sat down on the floor, hoping he woke up soon and wondering how I was supposed to get him home by myself.
