I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does.
Cursing involved in this chapter. Sensitive subject matter.
Pardon typos.
Please review. They are much appreciated and my happiness abounds…
*
Steve chugs his beer, watching Two-Bit with narrow eyes. He points at his friend. "I swear to God, if you get another strike—"
"Like this, Stevie?" Two-Bit screeches and whips his bowling ball down the aisle. The pins explode with a fierce scream. Ponyboy high fives Two-Bit.
"Goddamn it!" Steve turns to Sodapop. "How can we be losing to him? This is ridiculous."
Even Sodapop looks befuddled. "I ain't got the slightest idea."
"I'm the wildcard." Two-Bit snakes around to stick his tongue out at Steve. "You never know what I'm about to do."
"Keep talking, idiot," Steve snaps, his competitive edge warring its head. He grabs his bowling ball and readies himself on the lane. Soda scrutinizes Steve's form. Rearing back into a low squat, Steve takes three steps forward and then releases the ball.
Steve pumps his arm. "Stee-rike!"
Two-Bit sits next to Pony, massaging his shoulders with exaggeration. "You think you can do this, kiddo? Win this for us?"
Pony straightens up. "Don't I always?"
Soda smiles, relieved; the last day his brother's been in good spirits. He got up before noon and left the house for more than an hour. Soda watches his brother stroll up, hook his fingers into the ball and aim and throw. The bowling ball skids down the lane. Never wavering it shatters the pins. Turning around, Ponyboy's green eyes gleam.
Two-Bit chortles and Steve swears.
"Champions once again!" Two-Bit dances a quick jig and then grabs his beer, the plastic cup malleable in his fist. He takes a long sip and then holds it out to Ponyboy. "Want a victory gulp?"
Ponyboy shakes his head, taking a step away from the beer. "No, it's okay."
"You ain't 14 anymore," Soda laughs, lounging on a chair. He hands Ponyboy the score sheet. "Go on, have a drink if you want."
Steve rips his shoes off. "What's wrong? You don't like beer anymore?"
"Maybe later," Pony says.
*
He hasn't read a book in more than a month. Sam says it's all in his mind but maybe it is his mind. When he sees words or tries to piece a sentence together he has to think long and hard about what he wants to say. Something just doesn't connect.
Ponyboy tries not to think about it very much. But he loves English, he's a writer; he uses words for expression, to make sense out of the inanimate, to enjoy. If those don't work what else is broken?
He falls asleep on the couch, a copy of Catch-22 lying on the floor, untouched.
*
Darry finds Pony on the couch, curled into a fetal position. He's both relieved and slightly annoyed to find Pony sleeping. He's been trying to call for the last two hours. Unable to get anyone to answer, he stopped home for lunch.
Darry knows it's going to blizzard and wants to send Pony out for groceries so they're prepared for the holidays. But he doesn't have it in his heart to wake his brother. Instead he sweeps him off the couch, marveling at how light he is, and lays him on Soda's bed.
*
"Pony?" Darry taps on the bathroom door the next morning. It opens slightly. "You want to take a ride to the store with me?"
In the process of changing, Ponyboy jumps. "Jesus, Darry!" Panicked, he tugs a shirt over his head, making sure his arms are covered.
Darry props the door open wider, smiling at his brother who's wearing only boxers and a long-sleeved shirt. "Did you hear what I said, kiddo? You want to go to the store for some groceries?"
Soda clambers through the back door. He whistles at Ponyboy. "Got a show goin on in here?" Then he grabs a dishrag and is gone again. Ponyboy steps into his jeans.
"Sure, Darry."
*
Darry slams a fist against the truck's heater. Ponyboy raises an eyebrow, shivering. "I thought Soda fixed it."
"Soda always fixes it," Darry responds, still fiddling with the heat. "It just always breaks." Leaning across his brother, Darry pulls an extra pair of gloves from the aptly named glove box. "Put these on."
Darry's surprised when Ponyboy volunteers conversation. "You seem to like Alice." Pony's green eyes watch him closely.
"Uh, yeah, I do."
"Are you going to move in together?"
"I'm not sure, Pone," Darry says slowly. "I don't think so. At least, not yet. I stay over there enough anyways."
Darry glances at Ponyboy; he's still unsure how this dating thing should go. Even though Ponyboy and Sodapop probably care less about what he does in his relationships, Darry still can't help factoring in his brothers. "I was thinking about having her over for Christmas Eve."
"That's good." Pony smiles. "As long as she doesn't mind chocolate everything."
Darry chuckles. "I think her and Sodapop will have a field day." Darry squints at the thick snow hitting his windshield. He flicks on his wipers. "At least these work," he mutters, slowing at a stop light.
"You haven't said much about school, kiddo," Darry says.
"Nothin to say really."
"I bet you're excited for track next semester. Although, I'd imagine coach will want you to put some weight back on."
"I'm not running track anymore."
Darry nearly steers the truck off the road. It slips on the ice and he quickly rights it. "What? Why in the hell not?"
Ponyboy scowls. "I just don't want to. I'm sick of it."
Oh bullshit, Darry thinks, eyes narrowing. But he drops it. For now. He's not going to fight with his brother here, even though he wants to.
*
They get the groceries, stocking up on food for the holidays. Darry runs into a few familiar faces and has to stand around chatting, re-introducing Ponyboy and acting like his brother is just as normal as he was when he left. Pony just nods and smiles, giving one-syllable answers when required.
Forgetting a few items on the list, Darry has to make another quick trip around the store. Ponyboy wanders down the aisles, searching for the missing items. Grumbling, Darry tosses a loaf of bread into the cart. He makes a mental note to send Two-Bit the next time they need food. He and Steve practically live at the house anyways.
There's a loud bang from one of the aisles, sounding like a shelf's been knocked over. Darry thinks nothing of it until Ponyboy rounds the corner. "I'm sorry," he's saying. "I'm really sorry."
The motherly female clerk gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie."
"What happened?" Darry asks when Pony slinks up to him. He's sweaty and pale.
"I knocked over a display," Ponyboy says. "I didn't mean to." And Ponyboy looks so sorry, so apologetic it just breaks Darry's heart.
*
Soda corners him in the bedroom. "I heard you quit track."
Exhausted, Ponyboy rubs his eyes. "Let it go Sodapop." Knocking over the canned soup display this afternoon didn't do a lot for his nerves.
"Why would you do that, Pone? You're a great runner." Confused, Soda gestures at Ponyboy. "You not running is like Two-Bit giving up beer. It's not the way it should be."
Stop it, Pony wants to say. Stop having faith in me because I'll just disappoint you. I already have, you just don't know it yet. He's still so sad, so backwards. It confuses him; he thought being home would sort him out. But even though it calms him, it's not working.
"It's just not for me anymore," he says.
"I don't buy that for one minute."
Soda sits on the edge of the bed, wiping his grease-tinged hands against his jeans. "Pony what's going on? And don't tell me nothing because I know you, kiddo. You don't talk, you don't eat, you practically hibernate in this house…" Soda looks at Pony who's wedged himself into a corner of the room. "You're starting to scare me."
Just tell him, Pony thinks. His mouth opens and then Steve flies into the bedroom. Finding Soda he says, "Hey, that broad's calling about her Rolls. Do you want me to tell her to screw off or—"
Steve takes in Soda's expression, Pony's stance and curses. "Shit. Sorry."
"It's okay," Ponyboy murmurs, sidestepping Steve. "I'm gonna help Darry with dinner."
"Don't forget to eat it," Steve calls out. Ponyboy shoots Steve a nasty glare. Steve turns back to Soda who's doing the same. "What? He needs to shape up. Stop moping. I can tell you college ain't all that bad. Maybe he needs to have some fun."
"Don't." Soda's shaking his head. "Don't start with him and don't start with me."
*
"Stop!' Pony shouts, clasping his hands over his ears.
"Oh man," some girl laughs.
His heart feels like it's going to explode, Pony's arm twitches, the hallucinations, the dead, getting to him. Needing air, he whips a window open. Paranoia circles him as a fresh breeze greets his face and he gulps it in. Six feet below, the cement beckons. A hand grabs his shoulder.
"What the fuck!" It's Pony's roommate.
The noise, the anger gets to him. Instead of jumping, free-falling like he wants to do, Ponyboy smashes his fists through the glass window. It shatters and then, caught up in the drug, he slams the inside of his arms onto the dull, broken glass of the window sill, dragging it from elbow to wrist.
*
Pardon typos.
Please review.
Just a quick note to those who have asked – No, the story is not based on the song Slow Motion, just inspired the title. And no, this does not involve rape.
And yes, never leave drinks unattended.