I do not own The Outsiders. SE Hinton does.
Happy New Year! Please read and review.
*
The girl who helped him visits – she's the doctor's daughter. Sarah's tall, with deep black skin and brown eyes. She's serious, a grad student at Oklahoma State, a wonder to Ponyboy in his day and age.
"I saw what those idiots done to you," Sarah says to the pale-faced boy. "I'm just sorry I didn't catch them sooner." She touches his bandaged arm. "Are you sure you don't have anyone I can call?"
*
Ponyboy takes over washing the dishes after the dinner of leftover turkey and spaghetti. Soda declared the combination "fit for a king", but by the way his stomach is protesting Ponyboy isn't too sure. He ate what he could to appease his brothers. Silently, he watches Soda and Steve leave the house for the garage and he wonders if Steve will tell after all.
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump. It's Darry.
"You want some coffee?"
"No. Thanks though."
Darry pulls a coffee filter from the cabinet. Expertly he measures four tablespoons of black coffee and begins brewing a strong batch. He sets his OSU mug on the counter; Ponyboy eyes it warily.
"Did you have a good Christmas, Ponyboy?"
"Of course, Dar." Pony wipes his soapy hands on a dishtowel and leans back against the sink to get a better view of his brother. "It's just good to be home."
"It goes fast though, doesn't it?"
The kitchen's quiet, almost awkward when Ponyboy decides to test something. He picks up a washrag, dunking his hands in the warm water and goes back to the dishes. "Sometimes I sure wish I didn't have to go back." Breath freezes in his throat, hands shake beneath the water.
Darry chuckles. "Don't get me wrong, we'd love to have you here…but college is important." The coffee stops brewing and Darry pours himself a cup. "You're gonna get somewhere."
"But—"
"But what?"
Ponyboy bites his lip. "But don't you think you can go somewhere without a degree? Without college even?" Ponyboy wants Darry to be lax, to agree that college is not the be-all, end-all; setting Ponyboy at ease before Pony spills the news. But he sincerely doubts the brother he knows so well will say anything different to ease his mind.
"It's important. Anyone who can get away from this neighborhood should." Darry frowns. "You know that, Ponyboy."
"But—look at Soda."
"Look at Curly Shepard." Darry sighs. His brother's thin face is sullen. "C'mon, why are we even having this conversation, kiddo? I know you're worried about your final grades but you're gonna do swell."
Mutely, Ponyboy nods his head. He finishes the dishes, plays a quick game of cards with Darry and then slinks off to the bedroom, more afraid now about telling Darry than he ever was.
*
Ponyboy avoids everyone for the next few days. He can feel Darry lingering, wanting to question; Steve watching when he thinks he's not looking. Eventually, Darry and Soda go back to work and Ponyboy goes back to pretending.
He still can't find Sarah's present and for some reason he's glad.
*
"I don't know why I'm here…" Ponyboy twists his hands together. The snow's matted under his boots. "You can't help me with anything." The boy stares in the direction of the two grungy headstones wishing they could give him answers.
The cemetery's quiet. Here he can think; get away. The blizzard's finally hit, but despite Darry's warning, Ponyboy took the truck and came to the spot where his parents were laid to rest. It's been too long—already six months since he's last seen them. Back when everything was normal.
He covers his eyes with a gloved hand and squats beside the markers. His voice is muffled. "I'm really messed up. I keep making the same, stupid mistakes and I can't seem to do anything right." Pony clears his throat. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Any of this."
Pony stands. "I really miss you." He wipes his eyes again and leaves his parents.
*
When he gets back to the truck it won't start. Pony tries more times than he can count but the engine just won't turn over. He sits in the truck for a moment, contemplating the irony of freezing to death in the cemetery where his parents are buried.
He zips his jacket up, sticks the keys in his pocket and begins the quick hike into town.
*
The blizzard is fierce. Pony didn't give it enough credit. The walk into town should have only taken him fifteen minutes but it's taken him thirty. He's at the corner of Belleview Boulevard and Jessup Street, next to Myrtle's Diner when a familiar looking car rolls up alongside him.
The passenger side door cocks open and then Curly Shepard is grinning at him. "Well, I heard you were back in town. Prodigal brother returns."
"You gonna offer me a ride or what, Curly?"
"I would. But I ain't goin past your place."
Pony climbs inside the warm car. "I'm goin wherever you are."
Curly smirks and guns the engine. "Somehow I doubt that."
*
Curly drives straight to Sadie's, a dive bar with loud jukebox music and a reputation for the best fights in town. Sidling inside, Curly bellies up to the bar, Ponyboy following. They situate themselves on the high bar stools and Curly lights up a cigarette, wispy tendrils of smoke floating in the air. Curly asks if Pony's drinking and Pony says he is. Pony rubs his still-cold hands on his jeans to warm them.
The bartender sets a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser in front of them. Curly takes the shot and the beer, Ponyboy simply swallowing the shot. Beer isn't his forte anymore.
"Hell, I ain't never known liquor to pass your lips. Are you sure you're Darry Curtis's little brother?" Curly raises a brow. "In the flesh?"
Annoyed, Pony rolls his eyes. He'll never escape his halo. "I've progressed."
Curly gestures for two more shots. He raises his glass. "To progress." Ponyboy clinks his own against Curly's and downs it.
They sit in silence, the jukebox playing faint echoes of Conway Twitty. The whiskey is good on such a cold day, warming Ponyboy's stomach and calming his worries. He runs a hand down his arm, feeling the thin scar beneath his sleeve. "Why're we here Curly?"
"I got drafted, Ponyboy. My number's up."
The answer's unexpected and it's Curly's voice, scared, serious, that causes Ponyboy to sit back on his stool and blink at the hood he's known for most of his life.
"Aw, no, Curly. Shit."
"Yep. Got the letter in the mail today. Weather be damned."
Pony presses his hands on the bar, the smooth wood cool. "I'm really sorry, Curly." He doesn't know what else to say.
Curly shakes his head, chugging the beer the bartender sets in front of him. "At least you're set. You're lucky. Me—I don't really care I guess. I ain't doin nothing anyways." Curly's Adam's apple bobs. "I fight here. I'll fight there."
They ain't Socs, Pony thinks, rubbing his temple, And I ain't that lucky. But he doesn't say this. Instead he asks, "Another drink?"
"Shit yeah."
As Pony's third, and then his fourth shot hit his stomach he begins to burn with a happy tenderness. Curly begins talking about the time they played chicken with the ends of their glowing cigarettes and everything seemed so easy back then. Curly orders them each another drink and soon Ponyboy begins to wants to jump out of his skin. Nothing makes sense, everything's out of order.
They drink for a while more until Pony blacks out. After a moment or two of internal debate, Curly calls the house. It's not his fault if Ponyboy Curtis can't hold his liquor.
*
Two-Bit's the one who answers. Darry's at Alice's and Soda and Steve off to the junkyard for scrap metal. The only reason Two-Bit's in the house is to take the kid out for some fun. But it looks like the kid found it on his own.
"Where is he?" Two-Bit snaps at Curly.
Curly raises his hands. "Hey man," he slurs. "He just slurped it down. Not my problem. You're lucky I called at all."
"You are goddamn lucky. Now where is the kid?"
Curly points and Two-Bit finds him at the bar. Pony's passed out cold on the tabletop, his long arm draped across his face. Two-Bit shakes the boy. "Wake up."
After much deliberation, Ponyboy raises his head, lidded eyes greeting Two-Bit. "What'd you want?"
"Surly ain't you? Although I'm sure college has given you some practice." Two-Bit pulls out a bar stool, sitting next to the 17-year-old. "What are you doing, drinking by your lonesome?"
"As they say," Pony giggles. "Drowning my sorrows."
"What'd you have to drown, Ponyboy?"
Pony doesn't reply, instead trying to stand and staggering like a dead weight. Two-Bit catches him, wrapping an around Pony's shoulder. "You ready to go home? You ain't gonna hurl on me are you?"
"No, Two-Bit," Pony says with drunken exasperation. "I ain't gonna."
*
Pony passes out again in Two-Bit's truck.
Two-Bit gets him home and pours him into bed. He watches the kid for a moment, wanting to smack him for getting shit-faced at ten in the morning and being so lightweight that he's dead to the world.
Darry comes home for lunch and Two-Bit relays the story. "I put him in your room," Two-Bit says. "He's a goner—passed out like that." Two-Bit snaps his fingers. "No clue where the truck is."
*
Pony rolls over and Soda smoothes his hair back. It's dark outside.
"How do you feel?"
"Sick," Pony says, moaning.
"You sure drank enough."
"No I didn't."
*
Eventually, he comes around and gets released.
The first thing he does is call his brothers. Pony has to deal with a fuming Darry but makes up an excuse that sticks. Darry buys it so easily that Ponyboy begins to realize the disconnect. They think he's fine, they're fine. Everyone's moved on; he's the one falling behind.
He goes back to class. At least he tries to. He's missed so much already even the doctor's paperwork can't get him out of his homework. Finals are in a week and he can't think straight. His visits to class drop off; he stays in his room more often than not and sleeps when sleep will have him. He's depressed, unable to shake his funk. Everything seems black, there's no light at the end of any tunnel.
He doesn't want to but Sam Morrow makes him come in every day to talk. It's uncomfortable sharing his thoughts with a complete stranger but soon Pony finds it easier to bare his soul to an unknown. It's safer, less invasive. The doctor's kind, his deep voice soothing.
Sometimes Sarah's there.
She lets him stay at her apartment too. He can't stand the dorm, his roommate who offers excuses and asks questions. He needs to be away from campus. Ponyboy sleeps in the guest bedroom, where photos of Sarah's deceased mother and brother stare at him. "They died a year ago."
Sarah's in her late twenties, working on a thesis at the graduate school. In what subject, Ponyboy can't remember. He wonders how she can do it, with all her adversity, when he can't and she laughs. "You can do anything. You'll see."
Sarah frowns at his diminished appetite, tells him to do the best he can with his studying and raises an eyebrow at his quiet. But she understands. And it's all he needs. It's a weird situation but Ponyboy knows that if he didn't have Sarah or Dr. Morrow he might not be alive at the moment.
*
It's quiet the next morning. Darry shakes Ponyboy. "Pony, where's the truck?"
"What?" Pony burrows into the blankets.
Darry sighs, trying to control his temper. "The truck you borrowed yesterday. Remember? Before you drank yourself into oblivion?"
"It's at the cemetery. The battery or engine died. I don't know. Soda would."
"Keys?"
"In the pocket of my coat."
The bed shifts as Darry gets up, finding Pony's coat on the floor. There's a faint rustle and then the jingle of keys. Darry murmurs something inaudible and then Sodapop's saying, "I'll take you, Dar."
"We'll be back," Darry says.
*
A few minutes later, Ponyboy gets up, cloudiness still in his brain. He feels lower than dirt and it's not from the whiskey. He groans into his hand and then leaves the bedroom. He washes his face, brushes the film away from his teeth and makes up his mind to tell his brothers when they get back. He can't do it anymore. Lie, treat them like crap, treat his own self like crap.
He changes into a tattered pair of jeans and a gray long sleeve t-shirt.
He sits at the kitchen table and waits.
*
Darry walks through the front door looking incredibly pissed and Ponyboy hopes the truck wasn't lifted during the night. "Did you find the truck?"
"Oh yeah, we found the truck."
"Where's Sodapop?"
"Garage."
Ponyboy takes a big gulp. "Hey Darry, I have to tell—"
"What's this?" Darry holds up a white envelope that's been opened. He crosses the room to stand in front of the kitchen table. As soon as Ponyboy sees the return address marked Oklahoma State University his heart sinks. Any strength he had been building up vanishes.
"Those are my grades aren't they?" Ponyboy thought he had changed the mailing address to Sarah's apartment but apparently it didn't take effect yet. He's lost his chance to explain his own way.
"They sure are." Darry's face is red. "And what I'd really like to know is why you failed every single one."
Seeing Ponyboy speechless riles Darry even more. He stares down at the letter. "You do know that you're going to have to repeat the semester, don't you? I don't even know if your scholarship will—"
"I'm not repeating the semester, Dar." Darry's head snaps up. "I dropped out."
"What?"
"I dropped out. I ain't going back."
This time he yells. "What? Ponyboy Curtis, are you out of your mind?"
Ponyboy stands, going to the fridge to search for a Pepsi, any distraction he can find to avoid Darry's icy gaze. "No. I know what I'm doing," he mutters. "I have a good reason."
"Apparently not." Darry slaps the envelope on the table. "When school reopens, I'm taking you back up there and re-enrolling you."
The thought of going back to that campus, that place, scares Pony out of his wits. Even taking a breath seems hard. He licks his dry lips, shutting the fridge. "No, Darry. No…"
Darry's impossible. He's so caught up in Pony's concealing the truth, of dropping out that he can't think of anything else besides righting it. "No? Sorry kid, you're out of luck. You don't have a choice. I'm not gonna let you throw it all away. We're going back—"
Panicked, Ponyboy covers his ears with his hands and then rips them away. "No, no! Stop it! You never listen. You never listen to me!"
"Listen to you? Pony, you've been lying to us the entire time you've been home! Were you ever going say anything? Jesus, Ponyboy, I thought I knew you better than this…"
Desperate, Ponyboy says, "No, no, that's not it. I didn't know how to tell—I didn't think you'd understand."
"You're right, I don't. What's your excuse this time, Ponyboy? Is it like track? You just don't like it anymore so you give up?" The color from Pony's face drains. "Well, let me tell you something, sometimes you have to do things you don't like. Life's hard."
Ponyboy slumps back against the kitchen counter turning his head to wipe his eyes. "Yeah. You've been telling me that since I was 14."
There's a long beat as Darry stares hard at Ponyboy. Darry's stomach twists, he wants to reach out to his brother, who stands shaking in the middle of the kitchen, but Darry's anger and disappointment won't let him. He checks his watch. "I gotta go to work."
Ponyboy's thinking: Tell him. Don't let him leave without telling him the rest. But Pony's tired and he's defeated. The main truth is already out so why bother with the painful rest of the story.
Ponyboy just nods. "Ok."
*
Pardon typos.
Please read and review. More to come.