GASP! I finally wrote this chapter. School's almost over, which means I can finally get off my lazy behind and actually write!
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse, Bear, and Berlin. Nor do I own the Greasers, or Spot. Those belong to S.E. Hinton and Disney
The boys gasped. Johnny started to stutter, "S- s- sorry mis- mister Spot. We didn't know you was there." They were all trying to stumble over an excuse as to why they were talking about him behind his back, but Johnny's was the only audible one. Spot looked over the boys; Johnny's eyes were wide as plate dishes, Soda and Steve were trying to jumble up an excuse, Pony had a look on his face that looked like he was thinkin' somethin' up, along with Two-Bit though with more a sarcastic look on his face. The only two who didn't think up an excuse were Dally and Darry.
Looking over them all, he almost felt as if he was back at the lodge. Bear had just woken up and was trying to think up an excuse for falling asleep. Muse and Doll were trying to find words to say, and Singer was trying to say something to avert his attention. And Berlin, well, he was just having a grin on his face, glad that he could say more words in English. Spot stood a bit taller, as if he was seventeen again. Looking over them, with a stern face, he stated as simply as possible.
"Shut up."
The boys were dumbfounded. They thought some smart retort was going to come on for that, but that was all there was? Shut up? Steve was about to say something but the look on Spot's face kept him quiet. He knew better than that to get on Spot's nerves. But, Spot seemed to remember something, and Pony, in order to avoid the tension building up, said quickly, "I'm gonna go get the mail."
"I'll come with," was Johnny's response, and the two boys almost sprinted out of the house. As soon as they were away from the porch, and hopefully far away to a point where Spot wouldn't hear them, Johnny said, "Dang Ponyboy, your grandfather sure knows how to gain authority. Soon enough if he's here long enough Tim Shepard will be scared of him."
"He ain't that bad," he replied, trying to defend the old man, "Just… timid." Johnny snorted.
"If he's timid than I'm rich." When they reached the mailbox, Pony opened it, looking through the mail, and a bit of a shocked look came on his face. "What is it, Pony?"
"It's a letter for Spot," he stated in disbelief.
"Lemme see," Johnny snatched the envelope from Pony, and whistled, "Well I'll be damned, it is for him. Wonder who knows he's here."
"Probably his whole gang from back then."
"Maybe, let's go give it to 'im. Maybe he knows who sent it." The two walked back in, and silently handed Spot the letter. He quirked an eyebrow, but opened it, and read it over. They saw something in Spot's eyes they had never seen before. Anger, confusion, sorrow. What did this letter say? It dropped from his hands. His head was still tilted as if he was reading the leader. It looked almost as if tears were forming in the old man's eyes too.
"'Scuse me for a moment," he said quietly, his voice hoarse, cracking a little, "I'se gotta go outside for a bit." Instead of heading towards the front door, like he had before, he went for the back, closing the door behind him. The gang looked at each other, then Ponyboy grabbed the letter, and the others crowded around him. The handwriting was a bit messy, but it was readable. The letter looked as if someone had tried to find the right words for it all, and it seemed like there were a few spots where it looked like tears had fallen.
Dear, To My Good Friend, Spot,
Hey, it's your buddy, Singer. Remember me? You used to always kid around with me, and make me make you sandwiches and stuff. You were, are my idol. But sadly, I have to be the one to tell you this, because there's no one else to tell.
Doll is dead.
Your boys were staying here in Brooklyn with her until she could have gotten a train ticket down to Tulsa, and I came by to visit her sometimes. She kept tellin' me how she was getting more tired lately and stuff, she was a bit under the after you left, and I figured it was just cause she missed you, and wished she could finally see her grandchildren. Boy was I wrong, damn I'm stupid.
She died in her sleep, thankfully, so it wasn't too depressing. Your boys are sad, but are coping. I guess they just didn't realize Doll was leaving that soon. I hope this is the right address of your grandsons, otherwise I'm screwed and when I die, Muse'll beat me up for it. Oh, and Doll also wrote up a will. I think she knew she was gonna die soon.
The funeral's next weekend, by the way. I think its just gonna be you, me, your boys and their kids, along with your grandkids, if they decide to come with, of course. I wish I didn't have to write you like this, telling you that she's gone now, but I wanted you to know because I think, that maybe, I don't know for sure, that she wants you to live nice and long, that she loved you a whole lot, maybe more than most of her family, and that she probably doesn't want you to go off killing yourself.
Your former newsie, sincerely, Your pal, and follower,
Singer
P.S. Both Muse and Doll owe me fifty bucks, as to carry on the bet. I understand I most likely will not receive this cash from both, since it wasn't written in their wills, but I just hope you know, because I don't know if I'm gonna outlive you or not.
The boys looked in shocked. Soda looked teary eyed, "Well this is just great!" he replied, his voice cracking, "She's dead and we never got the chance to meet her!"
"Shut up Soda, and think of how Spot feels 'bout this," Darry said, "One of us should go out there and talk to him. Pony? Would you go check up on him?"
"Sure."
