Is anyone still reading this? You know, I started this story for two scenes, two very small scenes that will take all of ten seconds to read, and I haven't even gotten to writing then yet.
Disclaimer: I think you get the general gist.
"Soda, let's just stay here awhile longer," Ponyboy begged when Sodapop began to show signs of leaving the Mathews house.
It was going on eleven o'clock and they both had school in the morning. Actually, Sodapop probably would take so long getting up that they'd be at least forty-five minutes late and then he'd probably go off and play hookie after auto, his only class with Steve and the only class he enjoyed, save gym.
"C'mon, Pony, it's getting late and we got school," Soda said. He grimaced at the thought of waking up early the next morning when the air is still so cold that it tickles your bones and then thought of walking to school or waiting to hitch a ride with someone.
Ponyboy, usually so easy to give into Soda, ransacked his mind for excuses to stay away from home. From the moment he became aware that night was falling down on Tulsa Pony went into a silent panic. Every minute, every hour he would tire more. Every minute, every hour brought him all that closer to the time when Darry would have him hustle to bed. And that was what he dreaded all day.
Soda and Darry knew that Pony had been having dreams and even though the dreams spooked them, they couldn't fully comprehend Pony's terror. When he didn't wake up screaming bloody murder, he could mostly keep his brothers from finding out he had dreamed at all. He would've told them if it wasn't for feeling of utter stupidity he got every time he attempted to explain. Pony couldn't help think of the things some other guys had to go through, things much worse than a nightmare. A nightmare wasn't all that bad.
But they were.
"Well, I don't-can't we …" Pony rambled desperately.
"Why don't y'all just here the night? I'll drive us in the morning," Two-Bit cut in. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. It was inches away from his mouth when Mrs. Mathews snatched it away swiftly.
"Didn't know you were there, Ma," Two-Bit said, carelessly. Mrs. Mathews knew Two-Bit drank and Two-Bit knew he drank, but neither liked the other to know that they knew those things. It was easier to pretend there was no such thing as alcohol when the alternative was remembering that your husband and daddy drank the stuff like water. It was hard to do when you were forced to work in a bar for a living because that husband and daddy skipped out on you. So even though both people's pretending that booze had no place in their home was pretty much useless, the two kept it up. What else could they do without going crazy?
Pony couldn't help thinking it was funny that Mrs. Mathews had known the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots were hot and didn't say a thing, but cared about the drinking.
"What if you don't wake up? Darry'd be real mad if Pony and me didn't get to school," Soda said, sighing. He'd been planning for weeks, silently, to quit school and start working full-time at the DX. It was fun working at the DX only part-time, but Soda knew that his small salary hardly even put a dent in their family's expenses. Maybe working full-time could help that. When he thought about school, the way he fumbled about in low-level classes, Soda wanted to drop-out that much more. No teacher tried to let Soda know he wasn't stupid by explaining the lesson that much further; if he left, he'd be one less line in the grade books, that's all.
"Don't worry, my momma wouldn't let me sleep in when I got guests."
"Yeah, I expect manners from my boy. You better be getting Ponyboy and Sodapop breakfast tomorrow and everything," said Mrs. Mathews.
Pony and Soda liked that Mrs. Mathews always said their names without hesitation. Both boys remembered going to friends houses and getting into some kind of childish trouble that would send mothers running in screaming, "Richard Francis, Kenneth Edwards, Gregory Alan! I'm calling your parents now!" and the way they'd struggle to shout out, "Ponyboy Curtis" or "Sodapop Curtis" because to those mothers, saying those names made it seem like the joke was on them. Mrs. Mathews never did that. Then again, what can you expect from a woman who calls her own son Two-Bit?
Mrs. Mathews said goodnight to the boys, telling Two-Bit to make beds up for Pony and Soda. This didn't happen, of course. Two-Bit told Soda to take the couch and Pony to take the chair, gave them each an afghan and went to his own room.
Pony's heart was quivering in his chest. He had hoped that sleeping somewhere different would help. He talked to Soda for as long as he could, praying he'd just fall asleep mid-thought, without even knowing it because a person can't dream if they don't even know if their asleep. It was working okay, too, until Sodapop was the one who fell asleep first. Pony sat up straight in the chair for a long time, staring into the darkness. The strangest things looked sinister; the clock on the wall, the dusty figures on the shelf. Occasionally the velvety, black dark would grow. The few things that Pony could see would disappear, and darkness would engulf him. Panic would just be setting in when suddenly the dark would recede, like tides from the shore.
By two o'clock, Pony couldn't stand it much longer. He tiptoed to the bathroom and opened the cupboard. A sigh of relief escaped him when he found the bottle of sleeping pills he'd been looking for. Expertly, he popped three in his mouth and went back to the chair. Pulling the afghan over his head, Pony's eyes were already shutting. It felt so wonderful to drift into sleep, Pony thought to himself vaguely that he'd have no nightmares that night.
Sodapop awoke to his name being called.
Pony was thrashing in the chair like a landed fish, his head thrown back.
"S-soda," Pony whimpered quietly. In the next moment he screamed, "Soda!"
At first, Sodapop was relieved to see that Pony's eyes were open but when he screamed, Soda realized that his brother wasn't awake at all. He scrambled off the couch and threw himself at Pony.
"Oh, c'mon little brother, wake up," Soda begged desperately, wrapping his hands around Pony's upper arms, shaking him.
"What's going on?" a sharp voice shouted from the hall. Soda let go of his brother momentarily, shocked by the voice. He was even further surprised when Two-Bit flicked a light switch and stepped out of the hall, a grimy, but very heavy, baseball bat in hand.
Ponyboy groaned, whipping his hands up to his face. Soda dragged his eyes away from Two-Bit and back to Pony. With some effort, he pried away Pony's hands. There were red marks where his fingernails had dug into his forehead. He was quiet now, save a few hiccupping breaths of air.
"You okay?" Soda asked, hugging Pony to his chest. Pony whispered a quiet "yeah", pressing his face into Soda's shirt, intent on not moving until he was sure no more tears would escape him. When this happened, he leaned back and finally noticed Two-Bit standing in the doorway.
"Hey," Pony asked, fighting the quiver in his voice. "Why you got a bat?"
Two-Bit dropped the bat, looking sheepish. Then, not because it really applied but because he hoped it would make Pony smile he said, "What we got here is failure to communicate."
And though it was weak, it worked.