Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders


I walked into the principle's office to deliver a letter for my teacher for Mrs. Applebottom. I turned my head and there was my baby brother. He was swinging his feet back and fourth and looking down into his lap.

I wondered what he was doing there. Pony almost never got in trouble. While the principle's office was my second address you could hardly say the same thing about Ponyboy.

"Hey Pony. What are you doing here?"

"Mama and daddy are here." He pointed to Principle West's office.

I hoped on the chair. 'Glory Pone, what did you do."

"I don't know. Miss Getty just said to go here. What if I'm in big trouble Soda, real trouble." I laughed.

"It can't be that bad."

Ponyboy shrugged. "I got sent to Mr. Leesburg yesterday. I had to take a test and play some games. It wasn't bad. What if I did something wrong there? What if I'm so doubt they want to kick me out of the place or…"

Pony always had a way of letting his imagination get the better of him, even then. "I'm sure its not that bad. I mean I always fail and stuff and I aint been kept back or nothing. You do real good in class."

Pony smiled. "Thanks Soda."

The door opened. Mom saw me and rolled her eyes. "Sodapop Patrick did you get in trouble again?"

I shook my head. "No just bringing a letter and I saw Pony here."

Dad smiled. "Good you can hea the good news." Pony looked up.

"Good news?"

Dad and bent down to Pony's level. "I'm so proud of you buddy. Do you know what?"

Ponyboy shook his head. "You aren't going to third grade next year. You're going to fourth."

"Why? Doesn't the third grade want me?" Mom laughed.

"Mr. Leesburg talked to the principle. Pony do you know what an IQ is?" Pony smiled.

'Sort of, I think."

'Well you have a very high one. Since you are so smart you get to skip."

"I'm smart?"

"Oh very, very."

November 15th

I stared out the window. Why can't Pony be smart again. He was so smart. I was jealous, to tell the truth. But I want him back. I want my smart little brother back. But he is not here. His eyes are open but he does not see. He can feel but he can't think. He can't understand. He is somewhere, lost maybe. But he aint here.

"We're almost there Soda." Why are we doing this. Pony's fourteen not even fourteen and a half. He does not belong in a nursing home. It's a crappy run down one but what else can we afford. How can we do this to him? He'll be the youngest there, by twenty years, they told us.

How can we do this? He's not out Pony but he's still part of him. Maybe he's the Michael part. How else to describe it, I don't know. It just doesn't feel right. It feels so wrong.

I can hear the ambulance in front of us. I see its flashing lights. I wonder if Pony knows where it is taken him. He'll be in Oklahoma City. That's at least two hours away. The home will only allow visitors on weekends. He'll be alone. I know it's crazy but a part of me wonders what if he has a nightmare?

He can sleep, or so Doctor Hansen told us. But the jury is out on if he can dream. I inhaled deeply as we pulled into the parking lot. I jumped out and got a box of Pony's things.

We are allowed to decorate a little. The doctors say the stimulation might be good for him. So we loaded up some track stuff and pictures. Two-Bit even snatched a Paul Newman poster for him. Pony was always nuts about Paul Newman movies. No, I shake, not was is crazy about them. He is crazy about Paul Newman movies.

Darry grabs another box. It has PJs and track sweats. Pony will be more comfortable in them then a hospital gown. Maybe he'll look normal. The sweats will be baggy, I know. He's so skinny now. But the PJs are new. They'll fit.

"Come on Soda." I nod.

XX X XX

Darry

The room is all ready. I helped a nurse put Pony in some PJs. He just went rigid. He was so stiff and unmoviable. He moaned some, just moaned. Vegetable, its like a term for infant, infant in a much larger body. No, worse. I remember Ponyboy as an infant. He was so curious so placid and calm.

The one thing similar is reflex. When a baby is little they grasp when touched. Sometimes he'll do that. If you rub his hand long enough he'll grasp it. He grapes it but he has no idea why. Maybe he's rooting for food, for attention. If he feels any kind of attachment I have no idea.

My baby brother has no idea who I am,. I've never had a knife stab me in the heart but I think it must feel something like that. It hurts even worse knowing I had a part in it.

Pony is staring at the ceiling blankly. Soda is holding his hand and I just sit and watch. We'll have to leave soon. I've never left him for more then a weekend, even growing up. We always did stuff together as a family. I sighed.

Hope you enjoyed. Please review

This is what happens after all day Celtic music fest. Man I love the stuff.