(Ponyboy's POV)

Soda and Steve had been in Vietnam for over a year, and even though they frequently wrote to us, nothing was the same without them.

Two-Bit still stopped by the house basically every day, but after Soda and Steve left, he decided that he was actually going to graduate high school. He also started working at the DX to help out since the two best employees the DX had were halfway across the world. He only worked a couple shifts a week because he didn't want to work fulltime "like an old man," but at least he had a job for the first time in his life.

Darry still worked a lot, but he didn't have to work as many hours as he used to. Whether it was because he had less mouths to feed, or because there was some additional income from Steve and Soda, I didn't know, and I never asked. We spent more time together, and I was really grateful for it. We talked more and got along better every day. We were strong for each other, and if one of us was having a hard day, the other one was there for support.

I rarely hung out with people from school, so with Darry and Two-Bit both working, I didn't socialize very much unless either of them had free time. It didn't take long before I fell into a deep sadness, and the nightmares returned without Soda sharing my bedroom with me. Darry spent every night with me for a while, but eventually I lied and told him I would be okay by myself. I didn't really want to be alone, but I didn't want Darry to feel like I needed to be babysat. Still, whenever I woke up from a nightmare, he was always there for me.

Darry and Two-Bit helped pull me out of the sadness that had encompassed me, but I still didn't feel like the same person as I was before Soda's draft notice. It was like a part of me was missing.


One day, Tulsa was about as cold as it could get, and I was walking home from school after track practice. Once again, I was by myself. Two-Bit had to work for another hour, and I didn't want to wait for a ride if I could just as easily make it home before then. Darry didn't really like my decision to walk home alone so frequently, but I told him that since I was 16, I didn't need to be escorted home anymore. He might've not agreed, but he didn't argue with me either.

I was a few blocks away from my house when a newspaper flew by and I ended up stepping on it. The moment I looked at the date, a sharp pain shot through my heart. The third anniversary of my parents' death was only a few days away. Almost three years had gone by, but sometimes the pain still felt fresh.

Just like every day, I grabbed the mail on my way into the house. There was a small pile of mail, most likely bills, but when I spotted two identical envelopes, I froze. Both were addressed to "Mr. Darrel Curtis, Jr." and both were from the military. I could only think of one reason Darry would be getting the identical envelopes.

No.

My legs suddenly weren't working, and I feared that my heart and lungs would stop functioning too. I crumbled to the ground underneath the mailbox and leaned back against the cold chain-linked fence. My limbs were shaking, and I clutched the mail to my chest and wrapped my arms around it. I really wanted a cigarette at that moment, but I had quit smoking months before.

It was when I had a particularly rough week, and Darry had spent every free second he had being near me, making sure he was there if I needed him. I had smoked two packs of cigarettes in one day, and after that last cigarette, I saw Darry watching me. The look in his eyes told me he was sad and very worried about me. I felt awful; Darry already had so many things to worry about, and I didn't want to add to that list. In that moment, I told myself I wasn't going to have another smoke while Soda and Steve were in Vietnam. At first it was real difficult, but after a few weeks, I had almost forgotten about smoking all together. Quitting made running easier too, so it wasn't hard to convince myself to refrain from picking up the habit again. Darry was proud of me, and he told me that Soda would be too, which made me even more determined to never pick up another cigarette. I wanted to surprise Soda when he came home and tell him I no longer smoked like a chimney.

But as I sat under the mailbox, I wanted nothing more than a cigarette. A cigarette, and my whole family to be alive again.

I sat on the ground, refusing to move, and refusing to accept reality. Part of me wanted to believe that if the envelopes were never opened, it wouldn't be true. If we never read the words, Soda and Steve would both still be alive.

At some point, Two-Bit appeared. I knew he was talking to me, but I didn't pay attention to his words. I didn't move, and I kept my focus on the large crack in the sidewalk. He disappeared, and when he came back, I felt something being draped across my shoulders. I should've thanked him, but I couldn't. I couldn't speak. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't function.

"Pone, can you hear me?"

The voice pulled me out of my daze. I took my eyes off the sidewalk and looked up to the person crouching in front of me. "Darry?"

Concern filled his facial features, but he relaxed slightly when I spoke. "Yeah, it's me kiddo." He reached forward and wiped tears from my cheeks. I didn't even know I was crying. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Since I walked home from school," I replied. The sun was still out, but I could tell it would set within an hour or so. "Did you come home early?

He nodded. "Two-Bit called my boss. He said you needed me to come home."

I dropped my gaze. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be, he was obviously right. I've been saying your name for five minutes," Darry said gently. He turned to look at someone standing next to me. "Thanks, Two-Bit."

"No problem, Darry." Then I felt him pat my shoulder. "I'll be inside."

After Two-Bit left, Darry felt my forehead with the back of his hand. "Ponyboy, you're cold. You've been out here for a couple hours. What's going on?"

Slowly, I unwrapped my arms and handed Darry the mail. He had a puzzled look on his face, but when he saw the top two envelopes, I saw his composure shatter. His eyes widened, the muscles in his jaw were flexed, and his hands started shaking. Then he looked up at me, and I felt like my world was about to collapse.

"We don't know anything yet, Pone." Even though he said it, Darry didn't seem convinced. "Come on, let's go inside."

Darry led me inside, and as we walked towards the house, I realized Two-Bit had draped his own leather jacket over my shoulders. He was a real good buddy, and I knew I had to thank him, but I didn't think I'd be able to for a while. At least not until I was in control of my emotions.

When we walked into the kitchen, we found Two-Bit sitting at the opposite side of the table, drinking a beer. At the sight of us, his usual goofy expression turned serious. "What's wrong?" Darry and I sat down, and when Darry placed the mail on the table, Two-Bit's eyes widened. "No. Christ, no."

I didn't look at the papers, I only looked at Darry's reaction. Part of me still thought if someone else read the words, then Soda and Steve would be alive. Darry opened the envelopes and put the letters side-by-side to read them. After a few seconds, he put his hand over his mouth. Two-Bit reached across and gave Darry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Darry continued reading, and once he covered his face with his hands and let out a sob, the world around me crumbled. I wrapped my arms around Darry's chest and bawled like a baby.

He didn't say anything, and I didn't want him to. I didn't want to know what the letters said. I didn't want to hear that everything was going to be alright, because I knew it wasn't. The only thing I wanted to hear was that Soda was alive. I wanted to hear Steve was alive. More than anything, I wanted to hear that they were both alive and they were coming home.

Instead, I cried while Darry wrapped his arms around me.

Please Soda… don't be dead. You can't be dead.