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*
The truck takes out the mailbox as they swerve up onto the curb. A few letters explode into the snow. Ponyboy groans low, rubbing his brow in his palm as the front door opens and Soda and Darry step onto the porch. They look confused, Darry irritated. Steve twists around in the seat to eye the kid.
"You didn't happen to leave a note did you?" he asks. "Darry probably thinks someone lifted his precious truck."
"Shit," is all Ponyboy can say.
"Never fear," Two-Bit drawls, grabbing up the pool stick and throwing open his door. "I shall explain."
"Two-Bit, just leave it—" Pony snaps his mouth shut as Two-Bit jogs up to Darry. Two-Bit bows to Darry and then begins flailing the pool stick around like a sword, narrowly missing smacking Soda in the face.
"Don't bother. Let the idiot dig his own grave," Steve says. They watch Two-Bit a moment, then with a snort Steve crawls out of the truck, letting Ponyboy pass him.
The two of them walk around to the bed of the truck, each grabbing a box. Suddenly, Soda is there; his eyes hold a worried curiosity and Steve knows he's wondering why Pony is now with them.
Steve piles a box that's hastily labeled BOOKS into Soda's arms. "My piece of shit died back in Buxton. Busted alternator belt." Steve smirks at Pony. "We had to call the kid as a last resort."
Pony rolls his eyes, shifting his weight to get a better grip on the box. "Thanks, man."
"I'll order one tomorrow." Soda looks at Ponyboy, trying to gauge his reaction. He wants to ask how it was, if he's okay, but Pony's face has more life in it than it has in a long time so Soda just says the first thing that comes to mind: "I made blue potatoes for dinner."
It's lame, Soda knows, but Ponyboy just chuckles. "I'm goin in," he says, "it's freezing out here." He hurries up the porch holding the box like a life preserver. Soda stares at Steve as Ponyboy hustles inside, Darry following.
"So, what'd he say?"
"About what?"
"That you and Two-Bit went up to campus."
"Surprisingly nothing." Steve shrugs. "For once."
"He wasn't upset?"
"No. Now would you shut up? He's a big boy, Soda."
"Ok, ok, fine. But just one more question.
"What's that Sodapop?"
"What's with the pool stick?"
*
The next morning, Darry finds Ponyboy in the basement, stacking the boxes into a corner. "Hey, Pony."
Ponyboy jumps, spinning around. "Glory, you scared me, Dar."
Darry sits down on the step, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I made breakfast if you want any."
"Maybe," Pony says. He turns back to the boxes, giving them another shove, as if he's trying to make them disappear.
Darry watches Pony closely. He's heard from Soda about Steve and Two-Bit's little run-in with Dan Pinkerton. And while Darry wishes he had been there, he also knows it's a good thing he wasn't. They told him Pony was okay with it and even though Darry has to admit his brother does seem calmer after returning he can still tell from the hunch of Pony's shoulders that the kid's still carrying around something.
"You know," Darry begins, "I ain't gonna make you go back to school if you don't want to."
"I can't think about that right now, Dar." Pony mumbles. "But if I go back, I'm staying in Tulsa." His voice shakes but his words are firm.
Darry frowns, wishing Ponyboy would give him some credit for once. "Soda said you didn't want to go away in the first place. You should have told me."
"Would you have listened?"
A long pause and then, "Probably not."
"Yeah, well, it's ok, Darry." Pony shuffles his feet, eyeing the boxes distrustfully. Darry follows his gaze.
"Don't you want to unpack them?"
"No." Pony says. "Not yet.
*
He gets a letter from Curly. Pony's so surprised he doesn't open it at first, instead cramming it into his pocket before Soda can ask what it is. He goes for a walk and forgetting his surroundings reads it standing in the middle of the road.
Like Curly, the letter's simple.
Curtis,
Over here's nothing like I ever expected. We just finished training and anyway I look at it, it beats the shit out of being back in Tulsa. But I'll write Tim and tell him how lousy everything is around here. That'll make him happy.
Not much more to say.
Curly
When he's done, Pony folds the letter back up, thinking how funny it is that Curly Shepard's someplace he never expected and loving it.
*
After two weeks at home, Ponyboy gets a job at the library. It's not much but it gets him out of the house; He can't stand feeling worthless while his brothers go off to work. Day after day, he's surrounded by books, by words, but Pony can't bring himself to pick one up.
And despite the snow, sometimes after work he goes to the track and manages to pull together some semblance of an impressive run. His limbs ache when he's done but he relishes the victory. It's odd but soon Pony starts to notice that he has an audience of one when he runs. A man watches silently from the sidelines and when Pony finishes his last lap he always claps and then leaves.
In a way, it's a relief to slide into monotony, doing what no one wanted him to: the average. Pony's glad for this experience but already the briefest stirrings of wanting something else begin brewing.
*
Soda's giving Darry's truck a tune-up: changing the oil, rotating the tires, switching up his radio stations for good measure. Two-Bit's chattering away about the newest and hottest blonde he's seen at the bar and Steve's complaining about Evie.
Soda flips the lights on, checking the strength. When Soda goes back into the cab to shut them off he notices something. It's stuck underneath the passenger's seat, a long box wrapped in Christmas paper. The tag on it reads: To Ponyboy.
*
"Catch." Soda tosses the wrapped gift to his brother.
Caught off guard, Ponyboy opens his hands, managing to awkwardly grip the box. "What's this?" He sits up on the couch, staring at the object.
"Found it in Darry's truck. Under the seat."
Pony's green eyes widen. He tears off the wrapping paper and opens the box to find a silver ballpoint pen inside. There's a piece of paper coiled around the pen.
Pony unfurls it to read: For when words make sense again.
*
"I found your gift."
"Well, about damn time. What do you think?"
"I hope I get to use it," Pony says.
"You will." Sarah's grip tightens on the receiver as she strains to listen to his voice. "How you been doin lately, baby?"
"Better." Ponyboy nods. "I'm getting there. But sometimes I'm still so confused about what I want to do."
"Confused is good," Sarah laughs. "That means you're thinkin. That means you care."
*
The man is there again. Pony waves and the man waves back. It's an easy relationship, without questions or introductions. Pony wonders why he's there but is glad for the distant company.
He ties his sneakers, stretches and takes off around the track. He's fast, perhaps better than he's ever been and Pony knows why. He's not taking it seriously and it's this that makes him faster.
Then he can't help himself; his mind goes back to college. This would be his time, his semester to run. To show off, as Soda puts it. He's lost in his thoughts, caught up in what-ifs, when his feet tangle and he goes down. To brace himself, he sticks a hand out and when his wrists pops, Pony knows he just made a very unwise decision.
Pony's sitting on his ass, on the red earth of the track, swearing and holding his wrist when there's a light touch on his shoulder. Surprised, he turns to see his lone audience member. The man's older, in his 40's, gray with a grizzled beard.
"Are you okay, kid?"
"Yeah," Pony mutters. "Just great."
"C'mere." The man sticks a hand out and Pony takes it with his good one. When Pony's on his feet he says, "You run real good."
Pony eyes his wrist. "Not anymore, apparently."
"Can you bend it?"
Pony tries, careful to keep his sleeve down. "Some."
"A little ice is all you need. Wrap it up nice and tight."
"I sure hope so." His wrist feels like Jell-O and if he squints just right Pony swears it's doubled in size. Pony looks at the man in front of him. "Hey, thanks for your help."
"Anytime."
Ponyboy smiles. "Why're you always out here?"
The man shifts, sticking grimy hands in his pockets. "Got nothing else to do." He chuckles. "'Sides I used to run a bit myself in my younger days. Nice to see someone doing what they're born for."
Embarrassed, Pony shakes his head. "It's just a hobby. Nothing special."
"Well, that's a shame. Damn talent to waste."
Ponyboy, taken aback by the words of the stranger, blinks in surprise. He tries not to put too much stock in the words. He's done with running track. He is.
The man eyes the sky as Ponyboy shivers. "Best get on home, son." He raises an admonishing brow. "It can be cold out here without a jacket."
*
Pony's still thinking about the man at the track when he slinks inside, keeping his wrist close to him. He heads straight to the bathroom to bandage his wrist when a voice from inside booms, "How was work, Pone?"
It's Darry and Ponyboy curses silently, backing up towards the kitchen.
"Just great, Dar," Pony hollers back, wondering how to avoid his brother until he can get his wrist wrapped. "Spaghetti ok?"
"Great. Alice is coming over for dinner so make enough."
Ponyboy nods to himself.
*
Pony makes it through the entire dinner without a word. He rests his wrist on top of his thigh beneath the table. If anyone notices he's eating with his left hand they don't say anything. They're probably still not used to the fact that he's trying to eat.
"Are you okay, Pony?" Soda asks when dinner's over. "You're quiet tonight."
He nods. All Pony wants to do is get a minute alone to wrap his throbbing wrist. He'll handle it first and then tell Darry.
Ponyboy cleans up the kitchen the best he can while Darry and Soda talk out on the porch, the icy wind mixed with smoke from Soda's cigarette blow through the screen door. Alice hovers in the background. "Are you sure I can't help you, Ponyboy?"
Just when he's telling her he's got it covered, he reaches for a mixing bowl with his right hand, forgetting the wrist. His fingers enclose but they can't grip and the dish smashes to the floor.
"Crap," Ponyboy says, his wrist jumping into the palm of his left hand.
Alice moves away from the glass, eyeing Ponyboy.
"What'd you break?" Darry's voice carries into the kitchen.
"Nothing, I got it, Dar…" Ponyboy kneels, picking up broken glass fragments. Alice disappears down the hallway and then reappears holding a wheel of gauze.
She squats beside Pony, her long blonde hair falling in her face. "What happened?"
"I took a dive on the track."
"Is it broken?"
"Don't think so."
Alice chuckles, gently taking Ponyboy's right hand. "Well, it's very admirable you were able to cook dinner with a sprained wrist. Nice to see you're bullheaded just like your brother."
Before either of them realize it, Alice shoves Pony's sleeve up to his elbow. She stiffens slightly upon seeing the scars and Pony feels this. But he doesn't pull away, letting her wrap the gauze around his wrist tight. When she's finished they both stand.
"I ain't a nurse but that should help some."
Pony's quiet and then asks, "Do they look that bad?" She reaches out to hold Pony's thin arm tight. The scars are obvious but thin. They'll fade.
"No. They're just surprising." Alice smiles. "You think they're worse than they are. And even if they were, no one here would ever care, Ponyboy."
*
Darry eventually is able to corner Ponyboy in his bedroom. "Lemme see."
Ponyboy shows him the bandaged wrist. Darry squeezes it gently and Ponyboy bites back a whimper. Darry scrutinizes it closely. "You might need a brace."
"I'm fine, Dar. I can move it – it's just sore."
A ghost of a smile crosses Darry's face. "So, you went running?"
Shrugging it off, Pony says, "Yeah. Tripped over my own feet and like the genius I am thought I'd cushion my fall."
It takes a lot of restraint for Darry not to tell his brother he's proud of him; for running, for a lot of things. Instead he pats Pony's shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo, you've done dumber things than this."
Pony snorts. "Don't I know it."
"At least it ain't broken. You'll be okay."
When Darry leaves him, Ponyboy gets the feeling Darry wasn't talking about the wrist.
*
The next night Ponyboy goes back to the track but the man isn't there. He can't stop hearing the words, thinking about the meaning.
Standing near the bleachers, Pony stares out at the deserted track with the tendrils of snow blowing across and the iciness of the air. It's lonely out here but he doesn't mind; it's peaceful too.
Pony blows into his hands to warm them, wishing the man would show. He waits half an hour before finally giving up. Pony's left to wonder if the voice of reason he heard from the mouth of the stranger was nothing but nonsense.
*
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