I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does.
Please review. Thanks to those who read/reviewed Chapter one.
*
"I don't really care." Pony takes a breath, halting his anxiety, and points. "That one."
Soda motions to the guy working the Christmas tree lot. "Hey man…we'll take that one…" Trailing off, he follows the worker to show him the correct tree.
Steve fixes Pony with an annoyed stare but the kid's too lost in his thoughts to notice. "Hey," Steve snaps. "You think you could show a little interest in this?" Soda's trying all he can do to bring his kid brother out of whatever funk he's in.
"Sorry," Pony murmurs absentmindedly.
Steve sighs, giving up the fight. The kid looks like shit. So he tries to make petty conversation instead. "Soda says you took psych 101."
"Yeah, I tried to."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing." Ponyboy's eyes focus on Steve. "Why?"
"I need some help studying for my final," Steve mentions casually. "Ain't doing so hot." Ponyboy nods but Steve doubts the kid hears him. Soda walks back and Ponyboy pulls out his wallet, offering to pay for the tree. Soda shakes his head, patting his brother's shoulder.
They put the tree in Steve's truck and head home.
*
"Pony, do you want a cup of cider?" Alice offers. She's small and bubbly, blonde ringlets framing her face. They've met once before Ponyboy left for college.
"No thanks." Pony says, sitting on the edge of the couch, watching Soda and Two-Bit fight over decorating the tree. Steve supervises, reading a magazine and barking orders half-heartedly. Two-Bit finds the box with the fake snow and proceeds to dump it on top of Steve's head.
"Two-Bit, I'm about to strangle someone with the tinsel," Darry growls, scooting around his brother and girlfriend to answer the ringing phone. "Can you take a guess who that is?"
"Now that's the Christmas spirit, Dar," Soda laughs, brushing flecks of white from Steve.
Alice pulls out the tree topper from the box of decorations. She hands it to Ponyboy. "Here." She nods at the tree, smiling. "Just so they don't have all the fun."
"Pony. It's for you." Darry holds the receiver out.
Pony doesn't move. "Who is it?"
"I don't know. They didn't say."
Ponyboy stands, tossing the tree topper to Sodapop. Pony moves towards the kitchen, gripping the phone. "Hello. Yes," he says. Pony shuts his eyes and it's obvious to Darry he's uncomfortable.
Alice wraps an arm around Darry's waist as he watches his brother out of the corner of his eye. Ponyboy sags against the doorway. Alice begins chattering about what they'll do for Christmas, how they'll split their time but Darry's eyes never leave Ponyboy. The voice on the other line was unfamiliar; older.
"I know," Pony says. "I can't talk—" Pony puts a hand over his mouth, and then hangs up with a loud, angry clatter.
*
Pony twists on the couch, dreaming. The blood was so red; Johnny and Dal so alive it wasn't funny. But they laughed and Ponyboy slammed his arms down. They hit glass. They dragged.
*
He practices telling them. In front of the mirror, when he's showering, walking to the grocery store. But no matter how many times he practices, memorizes the words, nothing sounds right.
Pony finally gives up trying.
He's a coward with everything to say.
*
Someone drops a lot of somethings into Pony's beer. It's resting on the counter top, only three feet away from the boy. A joke that isn't funny. They just dropped in the tablets and Ponyboy picked up his cup, unassuming. The carbonated frothy beverage rolling down his throat.
About twenty minutes later, Ponyboy gets a rush he's never experienced. Colors all turn bright and spin around him. It's good at first; a pleasing experience. Others hoot, dancing, drinking, smoking.
Pony wants to fly, to go, to just be. He sees double. Ponyboy holds his hands in front of his face and laughs in pleasure.
He's moving. He's so happy. His soul is awake.
*
The cigarette he's smoking is about to be put out. It falls from his mouth into the dirt as Ponyboy sinks onto the front step. It's snowing heavily but it's of no matter. He's made it outside now he can let loose. The panic attack comes on fast and fierce. They don't usually last very long but it's enough that it would worry those inside.
Pony's breath picks up, lightheadedness drifting down. He grips the porch's post and gets lost in memories.
Pony's realized something these last few days; he's envious. Why did he have to leave to have a different—a better—life according to them? They all stayed and while it's not exactly different, it's not the same.
They moved on for the better – Soda and Steve have their own makeshift business (who'd have thought), Darry's dating, going to college part-time, even Steve's going to community college, and Two-Bit's living with Kathy.
They're happy. And that's important. It's what everyone really wants, isn't it?
So why did he have to leave? Why was he left out?
"Take the full ride," Darry had encouraged when he got into Oklahoma State University. Soda, although it had been difficult and painful for him, nodded in agreement.
"Do it."
And so he went, two hours away to a world outside his. In actuality, not far from his brothers; after all, he could have been at the University of Texas. But when there's homework to do and jobs to work, basically lives to live, those planned weekend visits have to settle for a phone call.
Pony didn't want to go away from Tulsa but Darry wanted him to and Pony felt he owed Darry that. He knows it's not fair to lay blame on Darry, who meant well, but it's the truth. Once at college, Pony liked it, loved it even. His own time, his freedom. It was an adjustment being away from his brothers, friends, his hometown, but he made due.
But now he can't stomach it.
Shivering, Ponyboy buries his face in his hands, the tingling and numbness leaving him. His breath calms. It's over.
*
One afternoon he reaches for the phone and wishes he hadn't. He's alone and so he has to listen to the familiar voice on the other line. "I wish you would have told me you were going."
"What does it matter? Can you stop calling here?"
"Ponyboy, you may have failed your classes but you weren't done for." There's a long pause. "Have you told your brothers?"
"No."
"You have to tell them."
"I know that, Sam. Just not…now."
The voice on the other line sighs. "This is not something you can deal with on your own. Or lie about. Or cover up with excuses."
"I know. I'm fine."
"It's understandable you're depressed."
Ponyboy closes his eyes, sinking onto the couch. He just wants the voice to go away.
"Ponyboy, as your doctor, as a friend, I advise you to seek out your family. Tell them. It was a traumatic experience, which completely upset your sense of self, your life. College is hard enough without dealing with what was thrown at you."
"I dropped out!" Ponyboy cries. "Darry will never understand! He won't understand a thing! He'll hate me."
"They will understand. They'll help you. It was not your fault. You don't have to come back—that's not the important thing. It's you—you're the one who needs help." Pony's head sticks; images jumbling together and he wonders if he'll ever be right. Sam continues, concerned for his patient. "Do you want Sarah to come down there? She's worried about—"
"Stop it! Stop it!" Ponyboy hollers. He takes a shaky breath. "I have to go." He hangs up.
He's embarrassed. But it's reasonable for his scrambled mindset. Ponyboy, a strong, forceful child, doesn't think anyone will understand, have sympathy. Pony stares at the white scars lining his arms.
*
"Did you just get up?" Soda asks, glancing at Ponyboy who's moseyed out to visit Steve and him in the garage. It's two in the afternoon. Pony nods, unconcerned and Soda sighs. "You should go put a coat on, kiddo."
Snow's falling fast and fierce. They can hear the wind howling outside. Pony just keeps his arms crossed against his chest, his ears bright red.
Steve plops down on a stool. "While you're out here, might as well make yourself useful for once." Ignoring Soda's warning glare, Steve reaches under the toolbox and pulls out a psychology textbook. "Last final's tomorrow and I just can't get this shit."
"Please, help him." Soda laughs. "Between Freud and all his complexes, I can't listen to much more."
Steve snorts. "Freud's a twisted bastard." He nods at Ponyboy. "Page 142."
Pony reluctantly takes the book. It's a dead weight in his hand. "I don't think I'll be much help," he says slowly.
"Sure you will." Soda's dark eyes get even darker. "You told me that after English, psych was your favorite subject. You got an A on the midterm."
"Yeah, I did." Pony licks his dry lips and remembers. He flips the book to the instructed page. The words and sentences blur together forming mush. But he reads anyways; asking the questions that Steve needs to know.
*
Soda finds Darry in the basement, rummaging through cardboard boxes. "It's supposed to blizzard this week." Darry sits back on his heels. "Where did I put those goddamned blankets…?"
"I think they're in our closet," Soda says. "I'll get 'em."
Darry stands up, groaning and raising a wry brow. "Knees ain't like they used to be." Soda's quiet and seeing that he's bothered, Darry sits on the bottom of the basement step. "Something on your mind, Sodapop?"
"Dar," Soda begins. "I think…I think something's wrong with Ponyboy." When Darry sighs Soda continues. "He's lying about shit and sleeping all the time. He's acting like he's fine but he ain't."
Soda feels like he's lost the connection between him and his youngest brother. Whatever Pony wants to hide, he's buried it deep.
Darry rubs his hands together, knuckles cracking. "Sodapop, I was thinkin the same thing."
*
Upstairs, Ponyboy traces the long vertical scar on the inside of his left arm. It's raised, pale white like a piece of twine. He rubs salve onto it and once again puts on another long sleeved shirt. Ponyboy cocks his head, shaking away his angry thoughts.
"You're losing it," he mutters. "Get a goddamn grip."
*
He's beginning to feel odd, as if his skin is moving on its own. "Holy crap," he whispers, moving away from prying eyes. Pony's thoughts begin racing, morphing into disgusting visions of a dying Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston. Then they're with him. Ponyboy stumbles away from his friends but they follow.
"You should have drowned," Dallas's voice says.
"No, no," Pony mutters, sinking to the floor. He touches his temple, feeling the heat brandishing from his scalp. He's so hot, he needs water. But everyone's laughing and ignorant or either uncaring about his trip. He doesn't like the way he's feeling now. It frightens him. He wants Darry. Darry would know what to do.
"Yes, yes," Johnny says. "Why did I die, Ponyboy? I deserved a chance!"
"What's wrong?" Pony shouts. "What's wrong with me?"
A dead-eyed kid says, "Oh man, you're flying."
A redheaded girl kneels in front of him; she sticks her tongue out showing him a purple tablet with a heart on it. "How many you take?"
"Oh god," Pony moans. His vision blurs, Johnny and Dallas continue to scream at him. Everybody wants him dead. Dead and gone.
*
Please review.
Pardon typos.