No more than twenty-four hours after I got better, both Pony and Soda got sick. It was just as vicious a bout with the stomach flu as I had just weathered, but they were far more whiney about it than I had been, particularly Ponyboy. He lay in bed and moaned and groaned like he had never before been sick. Contrary to how I had felt, just wanting to be left alone, Pony wanted to be tended nonstop. Water, aspirin, cold towels, ginger ale, crackers… He was driving me crazy. I wouldn't even let Darry go in their room because the last thing I wanted was to have all three of them sick. He filled their orders and I brought them in.
At one point they both were finally asleep, and Darry and I had a moment of peace in the living room.
"Pony better get better soon or I'm gonna have to kill him," I said.
"You and me both," Darry said. "Jesus, I worried about you wanting to be left alone too much, now all I can wish for is for him to stop calling us in there."
"Yeah, well if you all would have left me alone like I wanted maybe they wouldn't have gotten sick."
"I see your point, now," Darry said.
I lay down on the couch and hung my head over the side. I looked at Darry upside-down sitting in Dad's chair.
"Is he always like this when he's sick?" I asked.
"I honestly don't know. None of us ever really had to deal with each other being sick before. Mom just handled it."
"I doubt he whined this much for her," I said. "Are you like that when you're sick? Just so I can prepare myself, you know… in case…"
He laughed. "I won't catch it," he said. I believed him. He was strong enough to fight off anything, be it a linebacker or a germ. He hardly ever got sick; that I could remember, anyway. My dad either. "And no, I am nothing like that," he added, "at all. I'm more like you are. I just want to be left alone."
I had doubted he would be like Pony. Darry hates feeling like people are taking care of him. He prefers to be the one in charge.
I hadn't had any time alone with Darry since the night after the accident, and I felt like I had a million questions swirling around in my head that I wanted to ask him.
"Hey, Darry?" I asked. I guess it was now or never.
"Yeah," he said.
"Were you and Uncle Pat talking about money stuff that night?"
"Well, and other things, yeah."
"So, are we gonna be OK? I mean, how are we gonna pay the bills and stuff without Dad's job?"
Darry got out of Dad's chair and came over to sit on the couch with me. I picked my head up and looked at him right-side up.
"It's complicated Scout. We're OK, for now. It's nothing you have to worry about."
"But…"
He interrupted me. "Scout, I'll worry about the money, OK? You have enough to worry about for an eleven year old."
"I'm twelve, now, Darry."
"Right," he said. "Well, you have more than enough worries for a twelve year-old, too."
I was unconvinced. But I figured it wasn't a good time to press the issue with him. I didn't get a chance anyway because not two seconds later I heard Pony's voice.
"Scout, can you close the window? I'm cold."
Darry laughed. I rolled my eyes at him and got up.