Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed. Also I need to say that I do NOT approve of cutting in any shape size or form. If you have issues with cutting or self-harm please seek professional help. Here is the number where you can get help1-800-448-3000. Enough said back to the story.
For the rest of the week Pony was going to school, but he was just going through motions. He wasn't sure if the nasty looks and whispering died down or he just got used to it and stopped noticing. He ran into socs a few times, but the teachers were in the hallways, so they couldn't start anything serious.
Finally it was Saturday, which meant only one thing to Pony - going to see Johnny. The visitation hours started at 10 a.m. Pony tried to eat the scrambled eggs with bacon that Darry made, for Darry's sake, but he couldn't hold anything. He was way too nervous. He ran into the kitchen just in time and threw up right into the sink. He tried to wash it out the best he could, and turned around to see a pained expression on Darry's face, and that of shock on Soda's face, both of them staring at him, unable to say a word. "'m ok," Pony managed weakly, walking back into the living room and taking a seat on the couch.
"Are you sure you are alright?" Darry frowned, as he got up and put his plate in the sink.
"Let's just go Darry," Pony sounded annoyed.
As they entered the waiting room, they were greeted by the guard. "Please let the reception know who you are visiting." Darry nodded. They walked over to the reception window, and Pony said, "Hello ma'am we are visiting Jonathan Cade. He is in room two thirty five." She looked them over. "Please sign your names." She pushed a notebook through the window where every visitor signed. Then she got the binder – "let me make sure." She flipped through a few pages. "He is not in room two thirty five anymore. He was transferred to room three nineteen, he …" she hesitated a bit, "It says here that he is in a coma." Pony gasped, and Darry dropped the pen he was holding in his hand. Then he controlled himself – "is it possible to speak to his doctor? Perhaps he can explain Jonathan's condition to us." She glanced up at him. "Fine, I'll get the doctor, please take a seat."
Reluctantly, the three went to the sitting area. On a Saturday the waiting room was even busier than the last time Pony was there. It was really crowded, and they were not able to find available seats. So they just had to stand next to the wall. Pony looked like he was going to pass out. His thoughts were destroying him. It is all my fault, he thought for the thousandth time. Johnny is going to die, and I am going to have to live knowing that I killed him. "Family of Jonathan Cade," they heard, and snapped their heads up. The doctor was standing at the entrance, looking expectantly at the waiting room. "That's us," Pony sprinted up, followed by Darry and Soda.
The doctor was a very young man – maybe just a little older than Darry. He had auburn hair and blue eyes. His robe was unbuttoned, and you could see a white button down shirt and a tie. "So," he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was apparent that he was new, and didn't know how to deliver the sad message. "So," he said again, "I am sorry to say this, but Jonathan took a turn for the worse. The medication we tried did not work, and as of yesterday evening he went into a coma." Pony felt his legs giving in. I am going to pass out again, he thought dully. Pony briefly glanced at Soda and Darry – both of them had a shocked, heartbroken looks on their faces.
Finally Darry found the strength to speak – "so what do we do now?"
"All there is, is to wait," the doctor replied avoiding Darry's gaze. Then added, speaking in a low, unsure voice, "you can see him if you wish. He can still hear if you talk to him, and that may improve his chances of waking up." It's a good thing I visited him on Monday, Pony thought, then looked at the doctor. The doctor shot one more glance at the 3 brothers, and walked away. Ponyboy wasn't sure that this young doctor was good enough, but there was nothing he could do about that.
"I think we should see him," Pony stepped forward. They took the elevator up, in silence, and Darry opened the door. Johnny was in bed, so still it seemed he was made of marble or that he was already dead. Pony just lost it. He ran up to the bed. "Johnny, please don't die, please don't die." Then he ran out of the room. He ran down the hallway, and leaned on the wall. He gradually slid down the wall, and sat down on the floor, pulling his knees in, and burying his head in. Right then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he looked up – it was Soda. "Pony, are you ok?" Soda kneeled down to Pony's level. Pony bit his lower lip, "oh Soda, it is all my fault, and now he is going to die." Just then Darry emerged from around the corner. "I was afraid something like this would happen. Ponyboy," he stretched his arm for Pony to grab. Pony ignored it, "He is going to die." Pony sobbed.
"We don't know that, please get up." Darry said tiredly, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Pony, we have to keep hope," Soda said softly, "please get up, let's go home."
Pony seemed unable to walk. Darry and Soda looped their hands through his on each side, and this way the three of them exited the building.
On the way home Darry was driving, while Soda and Pony sat in the back. Soda was holding Pony, who was crying and shaking. When they arrived, Pony ran out of the car and ran straight to his room and locked the door. He heard Darry's footsteps, and then the knock on the door. "Pony, open up." Silence. "Ponyboy, open the door or I am going to bust it open." Pony opened the door a crack. "Ponyboy, please calm down."
"He is going to die, and you don't even care," Pony yelled. Then Soda walked up to the two of them. "Pony, don't say that, he is not dead yet. He needs you. The doc said if you talk to him he can hear you and it can improve his chances of waking up."
"Leave me alone, just leave me alone," Pony yelled, plopping on the bed his face down, then he looked up and the look on his face was that of a helpless little kid who got lost at the mall, "please just leave me alone," he almost whispered. Soda was pale as a sheet. He looked up at Darry his eyes wide – "C'mon Dar it's better to leave him alone," and then added, his voice shaking as he spoke, "at least for now." Darry sighed and started walking away not saying anything. Soda shot one last glance at Pony, and followed Darry. He left the door opened a crack, but Pony walked up and shut it. Then he went back to bed, pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes.
Pony drifted into heavy, restless sleep. He didn't see any dreams until closer to morning. Sure enough he dreamt about Windrixville and the fire. Only this time Darry was there rather than Dallas. Pony saw himself run out of the church, and the church collapse while Johnny was there. Then Darry walked up to Pony – "It's all your fault Ponyboy, you can never do anything right." Darry said. Pony tried to wake himself up, but he couldn't wake up. Finally he woke up around 7 a.m. with a scream. Both Soda and Darry were there right away.
"Ponyboy what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" Darry asked, concern and even fear in his eyes.
"Just leave me alone." Pony threw the blanket off, and ran past Darry and Soda, and outside. He was still wearing the t-shirt and jeans from the day before, and he was bare foot. It was freezing outside but he didn't notice. He just ran stepping into the mud, not caring where he was going, the words replaying in his mind – "It's all your fault Ponyboy."
Finally, he stepped into a large puddle, and collapsed onto the ground. He felt someone pulling him up. He looked up and saw Soda. He must've run after him. "Please Pony," Soda pleaded. Pony was silent, but got up to his feet. Soda gave him a pleading look – "let's go home, … please." Soda started walking in the direction of the house, turning around to see if Pony was following him. Pony stood in one place for a few minutes but then started trudging after Soda, stumbling as he walked. When they got home, they were met by Darry, and the look on his face was as if someone died and he was at a funeral.
Pony stayed in bed for the rest of the day, refusing to eat. By 7 p.m. he was running a fever. "I can't believe I am saying this," Darry said, walking into Pony's room, "but you ought to stay home tomorrow,"
"No," Pony sat up in his bed, "I got to be at school tomorrow, I have track meet." Thinking about the track meet took Pony's thoughts off of Johnny for a little while. He loved track, and that was the only positive thing in his life at the moment.
"You are running a fever, you got to stay home." Darry insisted.
"No Darry," Pony raised his voice, "you always say track is the way for me to go to college I got to be there. I'll take some aspirins for the fever." Darry looked puzzled, "fine, but go straight home right after. Don't even think of running off to the hospital or anywhere else."
"Fine," Pony rolled his eyes.
Monday was uneventful and dull – Pony trudged from class to class, trying to avoid the socs. People were still giving him weird looks, but he just didn't care anymore. Finally it was time for track meet. Pony changed in the locker room, barely avoiding running into 2 huge socs, and went to the school yard.
It was chilly outside, but Pony didn't notice. The adrenaline was pumping in his veins. God, I missed this, he thought. It was late Fall, and the leaves were a nice shade of red and yellow. They were being carried by the wind, and Pony thought that was nice.
A few of Pony's teammates walked up to him and started talking to him. They did not mention anything about what had happened to Pony, and what they had seen in the paper. Pony was thankful for that, so not everyone was being nasty to him. He felt as close to being relaxed as he had been since he got home after the rumble.
"Ok, gather up," Coach Brown blew the whistle. Everyone lined up in front of him. "We run short distance today, for time." He started calling people in alphabetical order – Aarons, Belton then Curtis. Pony ran with all his might, as fast as he could, but when he finished, he saw a baffled expression on coach's face. The coach wrote Pony's time in his log the same way he wrote it for everyone, and kept calling the rest of the students.
Soon everyone was done, and Pony started walking back, wiping his face with the towel, as he was sweating. "Curtis," he heard the coach call out. He walked up to him, "Yes coach." The coach looked at Pony as if he didn't know how to say what he was about to say. "Listen Curtis, … Ponyboy," he said softer, "you were one of my best runners, but lately you are just not performing. Your time today was one of the worst, and you lost weight." He cleared his throat, "after everything that happened, you ought to take a break."
"What are you saying coach?" Pony said in disbelief, butterflies in his stomach.
"I am sorry Ponyboy, but you are off the team." Pony was stunned, he was unable to say anything or move. He tried to hold the tears, but they started rolling down his face.
"I am sorry son." The coach looked away.
Ponyboy felt like he was burning on the inside. All the thoughts were mixing up in his head. Track was the only thing that he had left, but now it was gone. He started walking home as if in a daze. Once he was home, he plopped on the couch. He was unable to cry anymore, he was all cried out. He felt terrible, all the thoughts running through his head. I wish someone could shut down my brain, he thought dully. Then he remembered – he once talked to Curly Shepard, and Curly showed him marks on his arms and legs. Those were from cutting. That's how Curly dealt when things were not going his way. Back then Pony thought it was ridiculous, but now it seemed like a good idea.
Pony went into the kitchen, and got the knife. He wished he had a blade like the one Johnny had or Two-bit, but he didn't have one so he had to use the knife. He went into his room and took a seat on his bed. He stared at the knife for a minute or two, he wasn't sure how to proceed. Finally he brought the knife to his arm and pressed on the knife. Then he pulled it away. There was a red line running down his hand and it hurt a little. Pony proceeded to repeat this on the other arm. He did not feel better, but he convinced himself that he did. He rolled up his jeans and made the cuts on his shin. It started bleeding pretty badly, but Pony didn't care. Finally he thought he had enough. He rolled down his jeans, and put a jean jacket over his t-shirt so Darry and Soda wouldn't see the marks on his arms.
Pony carefully cleaned the knife, and put it back into the cupboard in the kitchen. Then he went into the living room and turned the TV on. He sat this way, not really knowing what he was watching on TV, until Soda got home.
"How was the track meet?" Soda asked, hoping Pony was feeling better after track. Pony looked down. "What's wrong?" Soda walked up to the couch leaving some dirt foot prints on the floor, but he didn't care at the moment.
"I got kicked off the team." Pony mumbled, not meeting Soda's gaze.
"What? Why?" Soda said with wide eyes.
"We were running short distance, and my score was lousy…" Pony trailed off.
"Oh Pony, I am so sorry," Soda said affectionately. He took a seat on the couch next to Pony and threw his arm around Pony's shoulder. "It's ok, it's ok," he kept saying.
"Wait till Darry hears this, he is going to flip out." Pony said bitterly, while sinking deeper into his seat. Soda was silent, because that was true, Darry would lose it when he gets the news
"Let me start dinner, get on Darry's good side," Soda said, getting up. Pony smiled weakly - "I don't think that'll be enough, he'll be pretty mad, I don't even care anymore."
"Look, you are smiling," Soda smiled a little too, then added "what would you like for dinner?"
"I am not hungry…" Pony started to say, but then saw a hurt look on Soda's face and said, "Spaghetti with mushroom sauce would be nice."
"You got it," Soda attempted a smile, but it turned out more of a grimace.
In about half an hour the door opened, and Darry walked in. "Smells nice," he looked over at Soda, who was taking the pot with spaghetti off the stove.
"It's warm and ready for you," Soda said, turning to face Darry. Darry took his shoes and jacket off, then looked over Pony, who was still on the couch. "How… are you feeling?" He asked, and Pony thought that his voice sounded oddly soft. "'m alright," Pony replied, dreading telling him about track.
"Are you running a fever again?" Darry asked, putting his tool belt on the counter.
"I didn't check, but I don't think so." Pony seemed to stumble over his words a little.
"Why don't you go check?" Darry sighed.
"Ok," Pony said, getting up, "the thermometer is in my room I'll go get it."
In a few minutes Pony was back. "I don't have a fever," he announced, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Darry looked him right in the eyes, as if needing to make sure that Pony was being honest.
And then there it was "how was track meet?" Darry asked, walking into the kitchen and getting 3 plates out.
"I …" Pony started, and Soda shot a worried look at Darry, who was looking at Pony expectantly.
"Please don't be mad, but I got kicked off the team. We ran short distance and my results were poor."
Darry almost dropped the plates. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and swallowed hard. "It is because you had the fever, I told you, you should've stayed home."
"It's not just that," Pony said bitterly.
"Ok, I am not mad, but is there a chance you'll be back on the team when you get back to normal?"
"I am not sure," Pony sighed. He was close to tears again.
Darry set the plates on the table,"I am not mad," he repeated, "it's just getting sports scholarship was a way for you to go to college." Pony didn't say anything. Darry sighed, "Why don't you eat whatever it is that Soda made and then call it a day."
"ok," Pony nodded, that wasn't so bad, he thought.