Dealing—Part 13

Not sure yet but might be starting the final stretch, beginning to wrap things up since I seem to be running out of ideas, but something else might come to me. We shall see as the story goes on…

Again, the sun was rising. This time, no one was watching it. Most of Tulsa's citizens were asleep, although there was still one party going on in a building on the outskirts of town, the music of Hank Williams floating out into the air as glasses clanked inside. It was the sort of place you didn't want to go to, but somehow on a night of reckless fun you always ended up there. Some blocks away, in a small but cozy-looking house, a teenager was sleeping off a night of drinking. From the inside, it didn't appear cozy anymore, with clothes and records and junk stashed all over the place. The guy had an amused smile on his face as he dreamed, and one eyebrow was raised as though it was permanently stuck like that. Just a few streets down, in a somewhat rundown looking house, with a chain link fence running around the yard and a gate that wasn't completely closed, two boys were still sleeping. If you tried the door, you would find it unlocked, and see one boy on the couch, his head of thick greasy hair resting on a pillow, snoring just a bit, although he would never admit it in the morning. The oldest boy in the house was still in his clothes from the previous workday, exhausted-looking and deep in his slumber. In the next bedroom, the other two boys were awake, but too busy to stare out the window this morning. The younger one was busy getting dressed for the day, early as it was. He scrambled into a T-shirt and jeans, and threw on a sweater overtop. He shivered a bit in the cool morning air. His older brother was on the bed, reading a stack of papers, looking up every once in a while with a smile on his face, or a worried look at his brother, who went on without noticing. Pages turned, and all that could be heard was the occasional sigh from the younger brother. One year later, the day was beginning…

Ponyboy's POV

We were getting ready to go visit the gravesite. It was early, but I didn't want to have to explain to Darry about this being one year since they died. I wasn't even totally sure how I felt about Soda coming with me, but I didn't want to go alone. I might have changed my mind and just gone myself, to have some quiet and privacy, time to think everything over, if it hadn't been for the incident at the gas station with Mrs. Cade. After defending our friend Johnny like that, Sodapop deserved to be with me. It was a funny thing, I thought—as I prepared for the hardest thing that would happen since…well, since exactly one year ago today when they left us—that I never really thought about the relationship between my brother and Johnny Cade before. I mean, Johnny was everyone's pet, I knew that already, but hearing Sodapop talk the way he had the day before, I realized I didn't really know before how much Johnny meant to everyone. It wasn't just me who missed them. But maybe I missed them more…

You were there. You were the only one who saw Johnny die, heard his last words, saw the life go out of his eyes. Like a candle without the flame…

Okay. I know this is the "anniversary" (I shuddered to call it that, it wasn't something to celebrate, the word just didn't fit) of their deaths, but this should really be the time when I was focusing on being gold for my friends. And if I was going to move on and do that, it was time to stop thinking about death and darkness. How many innocent people do you know that are obsessed with stuff like that?

It's natural to take some time to get past things like this. Four deaths of people close to you wouldn't be easy for anyone to take.

And then I froze as a new thought came to me. "You get tough like me and nothing can touch you. Get smart like me and you don't get hurt." I was trying to hard to honour my one friend's wishes, was I forgetting about the other?

Sodapop said softly from the bed, "Hey. I know you're thinking about them. And the letter too, right? Stay gold…"

How did he do that? Exactly when I was having one of those moments where I could burst into tears—of course I wouldn't, how tough would I look then? I'm still a greaser, after all!—he would step in and voice my thoughts. And suddenly I would see everything in a new light. Although, it did freak me out a bit sometimes.

"Ready to go?" Soda asked when I didn't reply. Deep in thought, I'd almost forgotten he'd spoken at all. I shook myself and gave a fake yawn. Maybe if he thought it was just me being tired, I wouldn't appear to be so spacey.

Sodapop laughed. "Ha—nice try, Pony," he jumped off the bed and ruffled my hair affectionately. "Did you even hear me say something, or were you in dreamland?"

"Do I have the right to remain silent?" I asked, only half-joking, but grinning back.

Soda's face became mock-stern. "You do. Anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law!" he announced, pulling my hands behind my back and marching me into the living room. I rolled my eyes. He really needed something to do to burn all that energy. Actually, I was surprised he was in such a good mood. And I actually hadn't had to use too much force to wake him up so early. One kick and he was up like a shot. Although complaining about that a bit…

Soda sighed as we headed out the front door. He was still pretending to be the fuzz, sending me to the cooler, but without as much enthusiasm now. "Guess Steve got the boot last night. Pretty late—I didn't hear him come in. Did you?"

"Yeah, a bit. He was pretty quiet," I answered, wrenching my hands out of his grasp.

Now Soda just looked worried. "You were up that late? Didya have a nightmare?"

Surprisingly, I hadn't. I shook my head. "Just couldn't sleep," I told him, then with a teasing grin I poked him in the ribs, "Only because you were snoring so loud!"

My brother's laugh rang out now—man, I'd missed that sound. It was the first real, crazy Soda laughter I'd heard in a while. Then he shoved me aside playfully and sniffed, trying to appear prim and proper. "Excuse me, but I do not snore. I merely…breathe loudly. Lung problems, you know," he gave a weak, phoney cough.

I chuckled. "Lung problems, that's right. So that's why you're so weak in a fight!"

"Hey, even if I did suffer from something like that, I could still kick your sorry ass in a fight!" Soda informed me with a cocky grin, twisting my arm behind my back. It kind of hurt, so I laughingly said, "Okay, okay! You win, Soda."

"Of course I do," he said in a mock-snobbish Soc tone. "I always win. Hey—ouch!" he rubbed his shoulder where I'd hit him. Things went on this way for a few minutes.

We settled down as we approached the cemetery. "Hey, do you know where to find them?" asked Soda, somewhat nervously, "them" referring to the graves.

I just nodded without elaborating. Oh, yes. I knew where to find them. I remembered every detail from that day when we buried them, like an eerie, surreal dream that I was just reliving now.

They carried the two caskets to the middle of the cemetery, a line of people trailing behind. It was cool, the sky stormy. I was beside Sodapop, trying not to cry, feeling the tears come anyway and not caring. I could always cry in front of Johnny, he understood. I didn't need to stay tough in front of him. Dallas was another matter, but I knew he'd like that someone was remembering him too. Darry had made sure that they would be buried beside each other. Anywhere else was unacceptable, he said. And like most people did when Darry ordered them to do something, the funeral people listened. Two-Bit was—wait. Were those tears on Two-Bit's cheeks? Two-Bit didn't cry, he didn't know how to cry…and Steve. Steve wasn't scowling at me when I looked at him for once. Sodapop was already crying too, and Darry just looked broken. That's the only way I can describe it. That's really how we all looked, how we all felt—broken. Who was left to pick up the pieces? My brothers couldn't protect me from this no matter how much they wanted to, my parents weren't there to help me through, so who was there to turn to?

And then they lowered them into the ground. And I hated every moment of the next few minutes. Johnny's parents pretending to be mourning the loss of their son, while Dally's father didn't even bother to show up for his own son's funeral. And I could almost hear Johnny's voice echoing in the wind, "Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold…"

And we'd arrived at their graves. I didn't say a word, just dropped to my knees on the ground. Soda remained standing, and he didn't speak either. Glory, this was harder than I ever thought it would be. Was it really a year since we had last been here, saying goodbye? "Johnny, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry for running away and making you come with me to the park. I'm sorry I ever ran into that church and you had to come with me in there too. I wish you were still here…"

When I looked up and saw Soda's surprised face, I nodded. "It's my fault, isn't it?" I asked, not caring that he'd heard me say what I did. "I was the one who started talking to the girls. I should have never sat behind Cherry and Marcia, never walked them home, never run away to that park, never gone into that church. Never let my friends die the way they did. Why does it hurt so bad, Soda?"

And then time stood still as my brother sank to the ground beside me, I buried my head in his shoulder and cried for my two friends, like I should have a long time ago.

Okay. Was that a good one, or not so much? Please review, they make me want to keep going! ;)