34. Anxious Nights

Something had happened. I'd done something. Something bad. Johnny was pulling me down the street, his arm around me as he led me back to the apartment. We'd been at work…and…someone had been hurting Sue. Or something like that. I'd been putting things away on the shelf…I'd been feeling better. Johnny and me had been working together and going to the library and reading and hanging out around town. We'd gone to a movie a few days ago, too, but we were scared to spend too much of the money. During the evenings after work, sometimes James and his buddies would be over, usually Ed and Terry but sometimes other guys. They didn't seem too interested in us but they always invited us to play poker, and usually we would, especially since they were sitting on the couch where I slept.

I'd gotten to talk to my brothers a handful of times, even though I was still too scared to call real often. Darry and Soda were awful worried, but I knew they were glad to hear from me. They wanted me to call more but I wasn't brave enough. I was worried about them too…and about Susie…and the rest of the guys. But I was trying to focus on work and whatever kind of life I had here in New York until the guys figured things out back home. Darry had promised to take care of it and I was trying to trust him.

Church had been…interesting. I'd told Johnny that he didn't have to come if he didn't want to, but he had. He'd insisted. And we'd had a pretty good time…up until that guy had all but told the pastor he didn't want us there. That had been awkward…even worse than the first time I'd gone and everyone had stared at me funny. This time, Mr. Williams and Sue had let us sit with them…Marcus too. Sue's cousin was real quiet and not all that friendly, but he wasn't outright mean so he was fine with me. He looked after Sue and I had a feeling he was looking after us sometimes too. None of the other guys that came in ever bugged us. Johnny told me that one guy had been giving him weird looks and he'd been scared for a minute, but Marcus had pulled the guy aside and after that, everyone left him alone, just letting him do his job.

The pastor had stuck up for us, though, even after everything some other guys had done to cause trouble. It probably helped that we worked for Mr. Williams. Still, it had been nice for him to tell us we were welcome to come back. He'd seemed like a real nice man, and it was good to have another almost-friend in the city.

And then we'd been back to work…doing good and making money. Mr. Williams had given us our first paycheck, and he hadn't even docked our pay from all the time I'd taken off. Johnny and I had gone and got groceries, then bought movie tickets and popcorn. It had been great…almost like back home. Most of the money, though, we'd put in that duffle bag I'd brought from Dally's. It was the first money we'd put aside for the bus tickets we'd need to get back home.

Then those guys had come into the store. I'd known something was wrong right off. Johnny had too. They'd been looking for trouble, and Sue had been scared. Then…the next thing I knew, one of them was grabbing Sue, and two more of them were after Johnny. I'd managed to knock out the one who'd grabbed Sue after getting her out of there. Unlike the first time I'd ordered her to run, she had actually listened, dragging her friend along. Then I'd busted a pop bottle over the guy's head as hard as I could, not paying any attention when he'd hit his face on the floor. I still wasn't in great shape from being sick for so long, but I'd been faster and he'd been somewhat drunk judging from his breath. Then I'd turned to find two of them beating on Johnny.

I couldn't let them hurt Johnny. He was all I had. He was my best friend. He'd come all the way from Tulsa to help me. I couldn't be alone. Not again. I couldn't let these men take everything away from me…not like Richard. And then…then Johnny had been sitting across from me on the floor on the other end of the store, my hands split open and covered in blood. Sue had looked at me like she'd never seen me before…Mr. Williams too. They stared at me like I was a killer.

They thought I was like Richard.

A murderer.

Was I? I'd almost killed those guys. I'd stared down at the redheaded one and I'd hit him over and over…I remembered that much.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I was different from the other guys…my brothers too. I mean, Darry and Soda weren't mean or nothing, but they were good fighters and I think they liked rumbles. I always just kind of went along so people wouldn't think I was a coward. When it came to fighting one on one, I wasn't real good at it. Usually one of the guys would help me out. I didn't like hurting people, even socs unless they wanted to hurt me first. Even then, I didn't think it was fun. But now...I'd almost killed someone. I'd sat on top of him and hit him again and again until he wasn't moving, and then I'd hit him some more.

James glanced up when we stepped through the front door, looking confused, then freezing when he got a good look at us. He put his bowl down on the table beside him, standing up and staring at me. "What the hell…who got ahold of you two? Why ain't you at work?"

I suddenly remembered when he hadn't given a shit about me and kind of missed it. I didn't want him asking questions…I didn't want to have to explain.

Johnny had my back though, patting my shoulder. "Some guys came into the store where we worked…started messing with people. They came after us and Ponyboy and me fought 'em off," he explained, making it all sound real simple.

"Yeah? What did they look like?"

"The guy leading them had real bright red hair. The other two had dark hair and one of 'em had a couple of tattoos."

I didn't remember that. All I remembered was the one guy's red hair. It had almost reminded me of Two-Bit, except Two-Bit wasn't mean like that.

"Red hair huh…" He trailed off. "You catch his name?"

"Nah. I think they're still there though…"

"The two of you took out three guys?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow and glancing down at my hands. I just shrugged, but Johnny nodded.

"Yeah."

James snorted. "Yeah, alright." He trailed off. "Kid, you okay?" I was quiet until he snapped his fingers under my nose, making me jump a little. "Hey, kid! You okay?"

I nodded then, my hands shaking at my sides, and I couldn't even try to hide it.

"I think I know who it is…I'll be back before morning," he told us, nodding and grabbing a knife off the table that he stuffed in his back pocket. "Stay inside," he ordered, practically pointing a finger in our faces. "I mean it…until I get back, keep the door locked."

"What's going on?" I asked, feeling like I was coming out of a fog.

"There's some guys from the other side of town…like to cause trouble for people around here…" He hesitated, then crossed his arms. "Your boss, what color is he?"

"Black," Johnny answered, glancing at me.

James sighed and nodded. "Great," he muttered, turning and slamming the door behind him with a final 'stay inside' thrown over his shoulder before he left.

"Come on, man. Sit down."

"I'm fine." I shrugged him off, heading into the bathroom.

"Ponyboy…"

"I'm fine. Just…wanna get cleaned up," I called, closing the bathroom door behind me and climbing into the shower. Blood ran down my hands and the hot water stung my knuckles. It was a familiar feeling. I'd done this plenty of times after a rumble, the guys and me taking turns patching each other up. Usually, Soda would pour peroxide on my hands and wrap them up. I'd do the same for him…or for Darry. They'd taught me when I was ten or eleven and they'd come home from a rumble, trying not to get caught by our parents. I hadn't ratted them out. I never would have, not for anything, and a year later I'd started going to rumbles with them.

After I got cleaned up, I poured some of the alcohol onto my knuckles, flinching and biting back a cry. Glory, it stung. Still, I rubbed ointment onto hands and then headed into the living room where I found Johnny sitting on the couch, waiting for me, the radio playing quietly on the table beside him. I sat beside him, staring straight ahead, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"I don't know what happened," I finally told him, shrugging my shoulders. "I just…I remember them walking in. I remember one of 'em talking to Sue…then two of them were on top of you and…they weren't going to stop. So neither was I."

"Pony, it's alright."

"I would have killed them if you hadn't stopped me." He was quiet, and I sighed, going on. "I was gonna kill him, Johnny."

"I know."

"I was never…I never did that before." My voice was weak and too young and I hated myself for it.

Johnny put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. "You've been through a lot, man. You know? It's been rough for you, and that guy you lived with really hurt you. You watched them kill someone, and you thought they were gonna do the same to me or Sue. I don't blame you for how you acted. Hell, Pony, you remember what happened with Bob. He was gonna kill you, and I was ready to kill him first."

Yeah…I remembered. I remembered Johnny pulling me out of the fountain and coughing up water, feeling like I'd never get warm again. I remembered Bob's friends dragging him away and being scared one of them was gonna turn around and come after us again.

I nodded, laying my head back against the sofa.

"Mr. Williams is gonna take care of those guys, and James is gonna do something…" He shrugged. "Who knows what." He was quiet for a minute, then turned to me. "You want chicken for dinner?" he asked, standing up and holding out a hand.

"Sure." I grabbed his hand and jumped up to join him, both of us heading into the kitchen and trying to focus on making dinner.

"You wanna call your brothers?" Johnny asked, preheating the oven. I cut the chicken out of the package and started making the seasoning.

My mom had taught all of us to cook, me on a chair beside her, helping her make seasoning while Darry and Soda would help our dad with the sides. A few times, Soda would start snapping towels when he got bored, or Darry would come over and crouch down a little, letting me climb on his back, and he'd give me a piggyback ride around the house while our mother had wondered out loud if she lived in a barn. She'd always laughed though. That thought sent a sharp pain right through my chest and I wanted to start bawling.

I didn't want to tell my brothers what I'd done. And they'd know if something was wrong, Sodapop especially. They'd know I was hiding something and they'd worry. I shook my head, dipping the chicken in the flour and then placing it on the baking sheet. "Nah. I'll call tomorrow."

He didn't ask, and I didn't offer any more information. Johnny just nodded, pushing the baking tray into the oven.

Darry would be worried. Maybe angry. I was getting us into trouble…Mr. Williams could have handled it. Probably. I mean, he had a baseball bat. Or we could have thrown them out. But beating the shit out of him…hitting one of them over and over until his teeth fell out and his face was little more than a bloody pulp…that was something Dallas would do when he was angry. Something even Steve might do, if someone made him mad enough, even though Soda could usually rein him in. Darry would say I was being reckless…and if he found out I could barely even remember doing it, then he'd be worried. Maybe he'd think I was losing it.

Or maybe he'd worry I was turning into Dally…dangerous and mean. Sometimes I felt like I might be.

Soda would be beyond worried. I didn't go around beating people up, which my brothers saw as a good thing. I fought in rumbles, and I defended myself when I had to, but I didn't nearly kill people…I didn't sit on top of them and hit them over and over until someone else had to step in. I was his little brother. I read books and went to movies and kept to myself and…glory, I didn't do this kind of stuff! What was the matter with me? Sure, I'd wanted to protect Sue and Johnny, but…what if I did something like this again?

Johnny and I ate in almost silence. I knew he wanted to talk about it, but I was scared to bring it up or even try to. I knew what he was probably thinking…that I was losing it. That I wasn't reliable or that he'd have to look after me to make sure I didn't hurt someone else. I hated it. I'd hated it when I was younger and my brothers had treated me like a baby, making sure the guys kept a close eye on me and didn't let me go off on my own anywhere. Now it would be the same. But even as I brought a bite of chicken up to my mouth, my hands were shaking and I felt like I could start crying any minute.

They could treat me like a baby all they wanted if I could just see them again.

When we were done cleaning up, I went back to the living room and grabbed a library book while Johnny headed off to the shower, both of us quiet. Last week, when I'd been feeling better, Johnny had taken James's new library card and we'd returned the books he'd gotten us, trading them out for new ones. Mostly they were just mysteries and old classics, and we tore through them whenever we were off work, usually after breakfast until it was time to leave, sometimes leaving to take a walk around town when we couldn't stand being cooped up anymore.

We were trying to save up as much as we could for the bus ticket back home so we didn't go out much…plus I wanted to give Darry and Soda some money when I got home, and hopefully, that would help pay if they'd gotten a lawyer or just with the bills. Johnny was saving a lot of his money too, but I didn't know why, other than the ticket back home. Maybe just to spend so he wouldn't have to bum off the guys.

I was laying on the sofa, covered up, my back to the living room, when he finally got out of the shower. I'd given up on the book a few minutes in and curled up under the blanket. I'd offered to switch a few times so he could have a turn on the sofa but he kept saying no, so I'd given up for the moment. I heard his soft footsteps and then the light was switched off, Johnny probably laying down in his nest of blankets on the floor a few feet away.

It was silent for a few minutes, then he got up again, and the radio was turned on real low. "Thanks, man," I muttered, and I heard him hum on the other side of the living room, somewhat acknowledging me. I always fell asleep better when there was something in the background, which I guess he knew. I felt kind of bad, then, about ignoring him, but I didn't know how to talk about this any more than I already had, so I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

Richard was standing in the doorway, Rita and Lianne beside me, and I felt the cold fear tight in my stomach as he clenched his fists, glaring at me. Lianne was crying…it was her second week in that hellhole, and during the day she was as tough as anyone, but at night, I was finding, we were all younger. He'd only gotten her once…on a night when he'd caught her coming in late. I'd been with Rita and he hadn't come in her bedroom that night…he'd got Lianne in the living room instead. We hadn't known until she'd come into the room later…Rita had tried to hug her but Lianne had punched her right in the nose, not saying another word as she'd crawled into bed.

Butt that had been weeks later…almost the end of her time there…the end of her life.

Now he was smiling at me. He never smiled at me. He stepped into the room and Lianne was sobbing and Rita was curled up at the top of her bed, covers tight around her, and I clenched my fists, feeling the pain in every part of my body and not caring. I couldn't let him do this. Darry would never let this happen. Sodapop, neither. They wouldn't let this man hurt me either, but they weren't here to protect me. I was here to protect these girls, though, even though one of them was older and taller than me, but not by much.

He lunged, grabbing my throat and shoving me back against the footboard of her bed so hard, I'd had a bruise for weeks, and I'd barely been able to walk the next day. I scratched and clawed and kicked like a wild animal, screaming and making noise, hoping to get his wife or a neighbor to notice. I mean, his wife wouldn't stop him, but he wouldn't hurt the girls in front of her. Not like that anyway. When it came to his fists, we were all fair game, all the time.

I was about to black out as he held my throat, but I managed to get a knee in his stomach, then shoved him back as he doubled over, my knee coming up again and busting his nose. He got ahold of me again somehow, though, and he was hitting me again and again until it didn't even hurt anymore…I just knew he was going to kill me, and I didn't care. Tears were streaming down my face and all I wanted was to see my brothers again…suddenly I was alone on the floor. No…not alone…he was on the bed and Rita was crying and I couldn't even move or scream but I was trying so hard.

"Pony? Pony wake up, man."

My teeth were clenched around something and I could barely breathe.

"Ponyboy, come on. Wake up!" Someone shook me and my eyes flew open, darting around the room as I realized I was biting a pillow and sobbing.

"What…what…?"

"It's me, Pony. You're in New York. We're in James's living room, remember?" I shook my head, not disagreeing but not able to believe him. "You're safe. It's alright, man."

I shook my head again, not able to stop the way my breath hitched. "She's not…" My voice broke as I gripped the pillow and he put a hand on my shoulder. "She's not safe…I couldn't save her."

"Who?" Johnny asked, rubbing my back.

"Either of them." I told him, miserable as the words I didn't want to say poured out. "He killed Lianne…I was there and I couldn't stop him. And Rita…he can still hurt her."

Johnny put both hands on my shoulders and pulled me in, hugging me. "You did the best you could, Ponyboy. You tried."

"It wasn't enough."

He sighed, his head against my shoulder, and I cried on him for a long time, feeling like a baby, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop remembering Lianne who'd fought back and Rita who hadn't, and Mark and Tyler and Tammy who'd let it all happen. And the social worker. I hated all of them and I didn't. I just wanted Sodapop and Darry. I wanted my family. But Johnny was with me and he cared and he'd come all this way to look after me so I hid my face against him and held him tight like I would Soda or Darry and he hugged me back.

I woke up again on the floor and it took me a long time to remember why. It clicked when I felt Johnny stir beside me, his arm thrown around my shoulder. I'd cried for so long, but then he'd pulled me over toward him, both of us going back to his nest of blankets and throwing them over us, his arm thrown around me just like Sodapop's. Soda had always stayed with me after nightmares, and it seemed Johnny would too. I loved him then, just as much as I loved Soda. Johnny wasn't my brother by blood, but he was as good as, and I was lucky to have him.

He didn't stir when I slipped out from under his arm, and I didn't wake him, figuring he'd been up for a while trying to help me feel better. I thought back to the night before and shuddered. I could have killed that guy and I didn't even regret it. Maybe I was different. Maybe Richard had changed me.

I hated the thought. I didn't want that asshole to have any kind of power over me, but maybe he did.

In the bathroom, I locked the door behind me, washing my hot face with cool water. My eyes were still wet and red from crying, and I wiped them off, hoping the puffiness went down. I didn't want James to know I'd been crying too. Toweling my face off, I stared at the mirror for the first time in a while. I wasn't as pale as I'd been when I was sick, but I still looked a lot thinner…my cheeks kind of sharp. My eyes were bloodshot. The scar that started at the corner of my eyes and went down to my nose, across my face, was red and sunken in, healing but still there. I reached up and brushed my finger across it…it didn't hurt anymore. Not really.

My eyes moved down to my arms, and I stared at the sleeves that went all the way to my wrists. Pulling one back just a little, I stared at the burn that no longer hurt…it was still darker than the skin around it though. It wasn't the newest one. The newest one, the one he'd given me the day I'd left, was still white and red and gross looking, closer to my elbow. Johnny and James had seen it…they had to have. I felt like throwing up when I thought about it.

My hands started shaking and I gripped the sink for a second, staring at my bloody, broken open knuckles, then pulled the side of my shirt up, staring at white bandage there. The cut was still wrapped in gauze, and I put alcohol on it every couple of days. It was looking better, though. Not infected anymore, anyway.

I went into the kitchen and pulled out a carton of eggs, scrambling them like I knew Johnny liked. I made toast, too, and broke out the package of bacon we'd bought with the money we'd made at the grocery store. I fried it and was heaping two plates when someone appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey kid, you got enough for one more?"

I glanced over and nodded, grinning a little. "Sure," I told James, heaping a plate with eggs and toast and bacon. I wasn't real hungry anyway. He took the plate with a muttered thanks and carried it to the living room. I left most of the food for Johnny and put a couple of bites of egg onto my own plate along with some toast, joining him on the couch. He glanced at Johnny, then back at me.

"None of those guys are dead or nothing…so there's that," he told me idly, taking a piece of bacon and practically swallowing it whole. "You kids sure can fight, huh?"

I didn't answer, just stared miserably at my plate. He seemed to get the hint, going on.

"The redhead…his name's Pete. Peter Cleary. Lives on the other side of town. Runs with a real tough group of guys…they like to come around here and start trouble. They set off fireworks in that black church down the road and beat up a couple of kids last year. They got my buddy Ed about three months ago. Nearly killed him…left him in a gutter. One of his guys jumped me a few days later, and then we all rumbled about a week before you got here…his guys and a bunch of ours, and since then, they've stayed off of our turf. Looks like they're back." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "The cops showed up to that grocery store, but your boss told them that a couple of neighborhood kids were there and beat them up. None of them ratted you out…I don't think they know who you are."

"Good." It was all I could really say. I didn't want this. I didn't want more trouble.

"Nope. Not good. I ain't about to let them mess with two kids staying with me. You're part of the gang now, kid."

"What gang?"

"Me, Ed and Terry…all of us. Guys we went to school with or grew up with. Guess it's the same where you live. You and Dally and that one."

I nodded but didn't answer, just stared at Johnny who he'd jerked his chin at. He was still asleep, buried in blankets and I glanced over at the clock…eight in the morning. I remembered back when I was at home during the summer, I'd sleep until noon most days, going to bed at two or three in the morning…and Sodapop wouldn't come home until an hour or so later. Our parents had worried some, but he'd been good about telling them where he was going…or lying about it. When it had been just me and my brothers, Darry had wanted me home by midnight when it wasn't a school night. Soda could pretty much stay out as late as he wanted, but he was usually in by two since he had to work in the mornings.

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"You with me?" he asked, almost sounding concerned.

"Yeah."

"Cause you sound like you did last night..." He glanced down at my hands, then ate his other piece of bacon. "You going in early today? To make up for last night?"

"I guess so."

"How the hell did you two beat up those three on your own? I saw Pete's face…looks like you put him through a meat grinder." He snorted.

"I just kept hitting him," I told him, staring down at my uneaten food. "I just…kept hitting him until Johnny pulled me off. I would have kept on…"

"Yeah…wouldn't have been any great loss," he told me with a shrug.

I grabbed a piece of toast and nibbled at it. I remembered when I used to eat a lot. All three of us had. It had stopped when they'd taken me away from my brothers. I'd barely been able to eat a bite at that boy's home. Everything had tasted like ash and dust in my mouth…it had been worse when I'd been living with Richard and his family. But I'd had to eat…no matter how awful everything had tasted, I'd still tried. I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep fighting that asshole if I didn't, so I'd tried.

I'd thought of Darry and Sodapop when I did, knowing they'd want me to keep trying.

"You getting sick again?"

"No. Are you guys gonna rumble again?" I asked, taking a real bite of the toast that tasted like nothing. On the ground, Johnny rolled over again, wrapped in his blankets.

"Maybe. They'll be laid up for a while. When you think you two are gonna finally go home?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "We gotta wait for…well, for things to be safe I guess."

"From that asshole that did all that to you?"

"Yeah. Him and his buddies," I admitted. "Cops and stuff. They wanna kill me 'cause I saw something."

"Huh." He put down his plate and glanced down at my arms. "How are things gonna be safe, then?"

"My brothers have friends. A cop they trust, too…they just need one of the kids in that place to come forward and tell everyone what he does to the kids."

"What did you see him do?" he wondered, and I shuddered.

"Lots of stuff," I told him as I headed into the kitchen, taking my plate and dropping it into the sink. As I stood there, half washing it and half staring at the wall, there were footsteps behind me, and I jumped when someone touched my shoulder, swearing under my breath and jumping away.

"Sorry." Johnny grinned at me, and I did my best to return the smile.

"Hey. Breakfast is on the stove." He thanked me, grabbing the plate and digging in, even though it was probably a little cold. "You sleep alright on the floor?"

"Yeah, fine…why don't we swap? I'll sleep on the floor and…"

"Nah, man. I ain't taking the sofa." I sighed, giving up immediately. It was a conversation we'd had plenty of times, and a fight I never won. "You wanna call your brothers?"

I thought back to my bloody knuckles and shook my head, putting the clean plate in a dish drainer. I wasn't going to call them just yet…not until my hands finally stopped shaking every time I thought about it. Not until I could talk without them knowing something was going on…without worrying them even more.