I just didn't say nothing, but I wondered if they were talking to Ponyboy in some other room. I bet they were. He'd heard Dally say keep your mouth shut around cops but I didn't know if he'd remember that or not. He got all upset in these kind of situations. Not like I didn't, too. I was more upset than he was, just not on the outside. I was used to keeping everything in.
The cop just glared at me until he figured out I wasn't gonna say nothing. He shook his head and put his cigarette out into the little tin ashtray that was on the table.
"Alright, kid, c'mon," he said, and he hauled me up to my feet, and I felt all off balance because of the handcuffs, which I really wanted off. But I wouldn't say one word about anything. Finally, though, he brought me to a cell and took off the handcuffs, and I rubbed my wrists and moved my shoulders, trying to get the cramp out. He didn't say nothing, that cop, but I figured me and Pony would be brought to the Juvenile detention center soon enough. I just lay on that uncomfortable cot with the thin mattress and the thinner blanket, but it was more comfortable than sleeping in the lot. I couldn't sleep, though. I couldn't get that kid outta my head, that soc, the way he was lying there. I shuddered and closed my eyes. Maybe I'd sleep if I could somehow just stop thinking.
The next morning they shoved some breakfast at me, it looked like oatmeal or something, but I couldn't eat it. It just sat there. Then a different cop came by and handcuffed me again.
"C'mon," he said, shoving me just a little bit. I saw Pony walking down toward me, handcuffed, his eyes red from crying, all red and puffy. He looked at me so desperate. I kind of nodded at him, thinking of all the trouble I got him into, too. At least those socs didn't drown him, at least he was alive.
"Where're we going?" Pony whispered to me as we followed the cop outside.
"The Juvenile detention place," I whispered back, and then the cop told us not to talk. He opened the door of the cop car and we got in. I'd never been to this place, I know Pony hasn't, either. Dally's been there plenty of times.
It wasn't right around here, this place. It was aways away, and I just stared at the houses and the trees and stuff that we passed by. I felt awful, I hardly had slept last night, I hadn't eaten in a while, and I couldn't stop thinking about what I done. Then I thought about killing myself again. I thought that a lot, you know, just killing myself because things were so damn hopeless. Maybe I could just kill myself, maybe, and not have to worry about this anymore.
We were getting close. I saw the building, it was square cement. It looked like a prison. I took a shuddery breath and glanced over at Ponyboy. He was looking out the window at the building, too, his eyes were all round.
The car stopped and the cop got out. These doors in the back of cop cars don't open from the inside. So the cop opens the door and kind of drags us out. We follow him into the building. Inside it smells funny, like steamed vegetables or something, and like Lysol cleaners. It kind of looks like a school, it has the same kind of shiny hallway floors. I look at the shine off the floor, look at my sneakers that are all scuffed and coming apart. I see Pony walking a little bit in front of me, I see his white sneakers that are as dirty as mine but look worse cause they're white, and I see the edge of his jeans. I won't look up. I don't want to look at anybody.
We follow the cop into some room where he undoes the handcuffs and hooks them around his waist, and he points to these chairs that are against the wall.
"Sit," he says, and we do. We just sit there while he talks to someone, some guy, probably the head of the Juvenile detention center place. He tells him our names and what we did, or what we're charged with, anyway.