Before you read this chapter, I wanted to point out a couple of things: first, I'm not making up anything when I write things about the Vietnam War and the soldiers' experience. I've read tons of stuff about the subject and I'm doing my best to portray Soda the way he could be after he got back from 'Nam. Of course I'm no authority, but I try.

About the final part of the chapter: in case you don't know, a "Bouncing Betty" is an explosive mine hidden underground which explodes when stepped on or driven over. "Charlie" was a nickname for the Viet Cong, a shortening of "Victor Charlie," applied to the Viet Cong using the NATO phonetic alphabet.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, obviously.

4 - Memories

I was sitting in the college library, researching for my hopefully final essay, before I'd be getting my degree, a couple of weeks later.

"Sybil?"

I looked up. My friend Joan, who had been sitting next to me, researching as well, was looking at me worriedly. "I should leave now, I told my boyfriend I'd meet him at seven and it's already six and a half…"

"Is it that late?" I glanced at the huge clock plastered on the wall. "I didn't notice… I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Are you staying here?" she asked.

I watched her gather her things and I nodded. "Yes…for a little while."

"Shouldn't the library be closing anytime now?"

"I guess…don't worry, I won't end up locked in!" I laughed, noticing the distressed look on her face. I had met Joan the first day of college and we had bonded immediately, even though she was too serious sometimes. She was jealous of me because I was married and she wouldn't be for a while (her boyfriend was in college too) and I was jealous of her because she was very smart. Way more brainy than me. Or so I felt.

"Okay…see you tomorrow."

"Sure." I watched her leave, then went back to reading. I didn't have much luck anyway, because a couple of minutes later the librarian, Miss Irving, kindly reminded me it was closing time, so I had no choice but to take my books and head outside.

Then I remembered: I didn't have the car that day, I had let Pony borrow it and Soda had the other one, so I would have to go home by bus. I reached the bus stop and waited patiently, but either the driver had gotten lost in Tulsa or he had had an accident, because it didn't show up. I was annoyed and took another bus which stopped near the limits between East Side and West Side and started walking home. I passed Steve and Evie's house and waved at Julie, who was playing in the small garden. "Hi, Julie!"

"Hi!" she ran up to me. "Are you going home?"

"Yes…I'm a bit late."

"Steve and I saw Soda before…we went over to your house just before dinner…he was talking to some girl."

"Some girl?"

"Yeah, a girl with very long dark brown hair…dressed with colorful clothes…"

I suddenly felt very worried. "Listen, Julie, I gotta go now…but I'll see you tomorrow, probably, okay?"

"You'll come and play with me?"

"Sure!" I tried to smile reassuringly. "Bye!"

I ran the rest of the way home and when I got there, I was completely out of breath. I entered the living room, panting a bit. "Soda! Soda, where are you?"

Sodapop reached me at once. "Sybil! Finally! I was getting worried-"

I interrupted him. "What happened?"

"Well, I think…you should talk to her…" Soda gently led me into the kitchen. I gasped. Sophie was sitting there, she had a huge bruise on her face and a swollen lip. "Sophie!"

"Sybil…I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you, but I…" she looked like she was on the verge of tears. "…I didn't know where else to go."

"That's okay, you don't have to worry now…you're safe here…" I hesitated. "Did Jeff…"

She nodded, looking down.

I glanced at Soda. He was standing next to us and the look on his face showed he had to be thinking the same I was thinking. "Sophie… is this the first time he's…hitten you?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"No…but he's never injured me seriously!" she quickly added, noticing the look on my face.

"Why didn't you leave him before?"

"Cause he's not a bad person! He…sometimes he drinks too much, or gets high, and then it's like he can't control himself anymore...but I'm fine, I swear, he didn't really hurt me much…" She sounded desperate, like she totally wanted to justify her boyfriend's actions.

"He didn't really hurt you much? Have you seen the shiner on your face?" She didn't answer. "What if next time…he injures you… badly?" I asked.

"That won't happen!"

"You can't know it!"

"Yes I can! He'd never harm me!"

I wanted to say He already did, but I kept quiet. "Well…you can stay here in the meantime…we have an extra bedroom you can use." I said, looking at Sodapop, who nodded in approval.

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Later that day, I couldn't fall asleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Sophie's situation. Soda told me he had just gotten home when she had showed up, looking miserable and very embarrassed to find him and not me. He had persuaded her to stay and wait till I arrived. They hadn't talked much because Soda didn't want to pressure her or make her feel uncomfortable.

"Soda…you awake?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you…You were right about Jeff." I rolled on my side and got closer to Sodapop. "I don't know what to do with Sophie. She doesn't seem to realize her boyfriend's dangerous…"

Soda propped up on his elbow and looked at me: "I'm sorry to say, but she won't last long if he keeps hittin' her like that. She could even get killed. Don't look at me like that, Sybil, you know it could happen."

"What should I do? She won't listen to me! She believes Jeff truly loves her!"

"I don't know…maybe if you have a long chat with her tomorrow and try to knock some sense into her she could change her mind… but I doubt it. She seems too sure her boyfriend means no harm…"

I nodded. "And I always thought hippies were against violence. How come Jeff's different?"

"You'd be surprised at some stuff those people do. I've heard some of 'em offer drugs to young girls who are so naïve they don't think they want something in exchange…and next thing the girl knows, she's been raped by them."

"That's terrible…how can they do such things?" I wondered outloud.

"Y'know…I never liked those hippies and I've always thought it had to be because while I was away in 'Nam they were here, safe, getting stoned and carelessly sleeping with everyone they met, but…that just ain't it. That's part of it. I think I've kinda…always wanted to blame 'em cause they weren't supporting us soldiers away. But truth is, barely anyone here supported us."

I could see the sadness in his eyes. I took his hand: "I'm to blame like everyone else."

Sodapop shook his head: "Naw, you're different. And I'm still lucky, cause I made it back home while lots of other guys didn't."

He paused for a moment. "And lots of other guys who did…got back in a wheelchair, or blind, or mutilated in some ways… But the point…what I'm trying to say is…well, I wish they all would experience a day in 'Nam and see how much life's worth really. They just act like they don't give a damn 'bout their life and everyone else's. They just don't get it…Man, I didn't fully get it either, before I got there. God, you see some things…you do some things…" Soda stopped talking. I squeezed his hand gently. I was glad he was opening up, because very rarely he'd say something about his days as a soldier. Very rarely he'd feel like talking about it and I couldn't blame him. I just had no idea how he could keep it all bottled inside.

We were silent for a couple of minutes until he started speaking again: "Sybil…I never told you…I never even told Pony or Darry, I never told anyone this, but…"

"Yes?" I encouraged him to go on.

"There was one day…in Nam…the day I got wounded here…" He pointed at the scar above his belly. "That day, I thought I was gonna die. I was feeling so bad I was almost wishing I would, so that the pain would stop…it was unbearable…I remember lying in some God forsaken place and my eyesight was all blurry, and I wished I had pulled the trigger before those damn Charlies who were shooting at us…I remember this guy, Jimmy Morris, he was lying next to me and he was delirious, he had stepped on a Bouncing Betty…" Soda shuddered. I was listening, horrified. "And he…I couldn't see him well, I could barely keep my eyes open because of the pain, but the only good look I was able to give him…I saw he had lost an arm and he had a huge gash in his stomach and his insides were splattered on the ground around him…I don't know how he was still alive. He died not much later, even before they could take us to the nearest hospital. He was only eighteen… only eighteen…a year younger than me…he didn't deserve to die that way!"

I saw a tear trailing down Soda's cheek. I hugged him and pulled him closer to me. He couldn't speak anymore. I knew I couldn't say anything to make him feel better, so I just held him as tight as I could.