Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns, cursing...

Still Somebody's Son

OoO

"You okay, kid?" Two-Bit asks for the fifth straight time of the afternoon.

I flip through a stack of records. "I'm just worried," I mutter. "I feel like I started all this."

"Shoot, you gotta stop thinking like that Ponyboy," Two-Bit says. He pulls a Rolling Stones album out and reads the back tracks. "And you didn't start nothing. It was that guy and his meddling ways."

"You sound like a Hardy Boys book." I run a hand over a bone-white record player, wishing we had one instead of our AM-FM radio. "I don't want to know him. I don't want anything to do with him. I don't know why he's doing all…this."

I face my friend, needing a second opinion. "Do you think he's right…that I'm…?"

"Glory, kiddo, I can't answer that. No one can."

"Yeah," I mutter. "No one except her…" I don't know what to think. It's fifty-fifty. A coin flip. Either one of them could be my father.

Two-Bit leans against the wall. He clears his throat. "Look…Pony…" A concert poster of Lou Reed hangs above him. His eyes are calm. "Your mama was a good gal. She made me lunch when I lost mine. Protected me from Dally when he tried to make me eat dirt. Laughed at my jokes…"

My chest tightens as I pretend to be interested in the newest releases. "She was a good friend to my ma too," Two-Bit continues. "Helped her out in bad times. Real bad times. So…just remember kid, this one thing she did doesn't make her who she was."

He punches a fist into his palm. "And if this Cowboy character tries to pull any shit I will take you to Texas."

I choke out a wet laugh, and wonder if Two-Bit Mathews is really trying to make me cry in the middle of Parlor Records.

OoO

Darry, his face screwed up and red, has been on the phone for the last hour with a buddy of his from high school that's now pre-law at University of Oklahoma. Steve's on the porch, his cigarette smoke filtering through the screen door.

"So?" I ask as Darry finally hangs up. "What'd he say?"

"We don't have many options. Get a lawyer and fight it or go to court and deal with what the judge says."

"Well, let's fight it."

"We don't have the money to fight it, Sodapop," Darry says, causing me to flinch. "You know that." He shifts in a kitchen chair, rests a palm on top of the receiver.

"What happens if Mercer wins?"

"He won't."

"Glory, Dar, I don't get you. You're so damn sure but we don't really know anything do we?" I pace the living room, anger a blaze in my vision. "We take the test and it's a wash. We thought he wouldn't fight it and then we get this letter. Now he says he has a friend on the bench? So what does that mean? What if they really gave this guy custody? You want to take that chance?"

Darry's face hardens. I can't remember the last time we've been at each other's throats this bad. "Leave it alone, Sodapop."

I feel my jaw jump. I think of Sandy and my mom's face rushes into my mind. How they both lied, hurt others when all I – we – did was trust them. The memory's a kick in my gut; I can't stomach it. "This is such a goddamn mess, Darry!" I shout and my usually stoic brother winces.

"Sodapop—"

"It's a mess and it's all because of her."

OoO

The wind whips and whistles. There's a bright glow from the front of my porch and as we get closer I see Steve throw a cigarette into the bushes.

"That's a fire hazard," Two-Bit says.

Steve flips him off. Looks at me. "You uh, might want to stay out of the way," Steve says, sticking a hand out before I can climb up the steps to the front door. "It's rough in there."

"Why?" Before he can respond I get my answer. The shouting inside is loud, nothing I've ever heard before.

"It's bad enough our mom was a—"

"Don't, Sodapop. Don't say something you'll regret."

"Why not? It's true, ain't it? We all know that now. She screwed around on dad. So let's just say it…"

"Pony, no," Two-Bit tries to grab me as I bolt for the door, but I rush past him. The screen rattles against the wild wind as I fly into the house. Darry's shaking his head, fists clenched on top of the kitchen table, struggling to keep it together.

"Soda, so help me…"

"Stop it!" I shout. Heads swivel my way, guilt and shame clouding the faces of my brothers. Soda looks like he's crawled out of a trance, the anger dies in his eyes like someone's just turned off a switch. He sinks into a chair, stunned.

"This isn't worth it," I say, my face on fire. "All this—" I lower my eyes, blinking fast. "Darry, I'll just go. Call him and tell him. I'll see him whenever he wants if it will keep him happy. I just don't want the courts. I want to stay here."

"Ponyboy…" Darry begins. "Kiddo, I'm sor—"

"It won't mean anything," I say, cutting him off, my words braver than I feel. "It won't mean a thing."

I'm a traitor. A traitor to my dad and that's why my brothers are fighting so hard. But I can't let it go on like this. Not when I can fix it.

OoO

"You call me if you want to get out of there."

"I will."

"I'll be at work until four but just call the office and they'll—"

"I know. I got it, Darry."

"I can come and get you anytime."

Sighing, Ponyboy slouches low in his seat, the seatbelt drooping across his chest. "You said that five minutes ago," he mutters.

"I just want to make sure you're okay doing this."

"Relax, Darry. I'll be fine." Ponyboy turns his face away from the window, shooting me a crooked smile. The sun's low in the sky, late Saturday morning sunrise blooming over the countryside. "Really."

Ever since Ponyboy told us last week he'd meet with Thomas Mercer to get him off our backs it seemed like best option at the time. Now, driving my brother out to the Cowboy's ranch, far from the outskirts of Tulsa, it hits me like a stack of bricks. I don't like it at all. Dropping him off and leaving him alone with a complete stranger is unsettling.

I'm beginning to wonder if Soda was right; we should have fought.

Although if this is what it takes to put Thomas Mercer off then I'll do anything to get him out of our lives. I'll make all this right. Even though I really could kill that son of a bitch right now.

I glance at Ponyboy out of the corner of my eye and am reminded how young he still is. A year ago he lost his best friend, two years his parents and now this. He's all long legs and arms, could use a few pounds on his frame, brown hair in his face, a bit darker than last year but he's still a kid.

I steer us into the dirt front yard that passes as the Cowboy's driveway. I shift the truck into park. "No." Ponyboy stops me when I move to unbuckle. "You ain't gotta come in, Dar."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he says. Nervously, he glances back at the house. He grimaces. "This is so weird."

"You sure you're okay?"

"You can come get me at five, right?"

"I'll be here."

Pony nods, ripping his seatbelt off. He's out of the truck before I can tell him goodbye. He climbs the porch and knocks. I wait until the front door opens and he steps inside, swallowed into the house.

Doing the right thing scares the living shit out of me.

OoO

I'm let in the house and instantly a slobbering dog starts pawing at my legs, bounding and dancing around. I laugh, kneeling down to give the dog a pat on its furry head. "Good dog," I tell it.

I glance up at the Mexican woman who's answered the door. She's in her sixties, deep wrinkles lining her face. She clasps her hands. "Oh, mijo," she says, beaming.

"Uh, hello," I say, standing. "I'm Pon—"

"Oh, no, no," she says, a trace of a foreign accent lingering, stilted English clouding her voice. She waves me off. "I know who you are. Let me get Tomas, he will be so happy you are here." She waddles off, shouts, "Goosey!" and immediately the dog bounds after her.

I raise my eyes to the ceiling and take in the massive house. Stairs rise to a second floor, hardwood floors, an enormous kitchen with a countertop and stools. After a minute or two Thomas Mercer comes walking around the corner, hands hooked through his belt loops, the cowboy hat on top of his head. He takes it off and that's when I really see his eyes. I could be looking in a mirror.

"You okay, son?" he asks.

"Don't call me that," I snap, looking away. "I'm fine."

"Well, then," he says with a brash grin. "I see you already met Margarita, so let me show you around."

OoO

Gray clouds blow over the hills. The wind chimes on the Cowboy's back porch begin tinkling as the wind picks up. He's showing me around his farm, which I have to admit is pretty damn cool. It's massive too. Behind the old farmhouse there's a lake surrounded by large gnarled and weathered oak trees, a barn to the right of the lake and a dark brown wooden fence surrounding a pen full of grazing Appaloosas.

There's also a bright red Corvette parked near the porch that Soda would die for.

The Cowboy waves at me to follow him into the field, his call lost on the wind. Rita shouts something in Spanish and calls me mijo.

"So who's that?" I ask when I meet him at the barn. "The woman." The way Rita's been acting makes me think the Cowboy's told her a few things. That they're close.

"Oh, ol' Rita's been around a long time. Raised me and I kind of just kept her around."

I give him a look I'd give a Soc; disgust mixed with disdain, and bend down to pet the Goosey the chocolate Labrador who's tagging along. "Is she your maid?"

"Never say that word around, Rita," Cowboy barks a laugh out and swings the barn door open. "She'll put a curse on you. She's more than that though…"

The barn's full of hay bales, feed and stables. Saddles are draped over chairs, a musky horsey order coating everything inside. Goosey barrels inside and begins rolling all over the floor. I move around the barn, dreading this day. I want it to be over with. I want to go back home. I don't want to know this man; this man who wrecked everything, disrupting our lives.

The worst part is his eyes. He catches me staring. "Let's go check on the horses."

OoO

When we're done feeding the horses, we head back to the house, Rita calling us to lunch. Dust kicks up under our feet as Goosey bounds alongside Thomas Mercer. He glances my way.

"I know you don't want to be here," he says. "So thanks for giving me a chance."

"I didn't really have a choice."

"I ain't planning to take you away from your family, Ponyboy. I know you've been through enough, with your friends and all and the state…"

"Could've fooled me." I bring a cigarette to my lips and breathe in.

He shoots me a grin, tips his hat. "I can be really stubborn when I don't get what I want."

"That what you said to my mom too?"

Startled, the Cowboy's voice is soft. "You sure got some mouth on you, kid."

I think of Darry and know he'd agree.

"Look, Ponyboy, I'll tell you about whatever you want," Cowboy says. "It's no fun being kept in the dark. Just ask and I'll tell ya." Goosey whines and the Cowboy sinks into a squat, running a hand across her dark coat. He looks up into my face.

"I thought it was time you knew, son. Hell, if you end up hating me after this, so be it. I'll let you go, I'll leave you alone. I just wanted a shot."

"I already hate you." I dig my shoes in the dirt and stare ahead into the sun, my chest tight.

OoO

It's our one free Saturday in a long time and instead of doing something productive we go get a drink on the strip. "Stop," Steve says, pointing at me as our drinks are set down. "Stop thinking about the kid."

"Man, shut up." I light a cigarette, betraying my nerves. I wish I could be with Ponyboy today, instead of sitting here wondering how it's going, how's he doing.

"Here," Two-Bit says. "I scraped together a buck. Couch cushions come in handy."

"I got two," Steve says, piling the money on top of Two-Bit's. He sneers. "Only seventeen more to go."

I never thought I'd be in a position like this, one I can't get out of. It's been a little over a week since Budweiser's threat and the fact that I haven't heard from him worries me. I tried hard to help Steve and it only ended blowing up in my face.

"You gonna tell Darry?" Two-Bit asks.

"I'm gonna have to. Damn it," I swear. "He doesn't need this on top of everything else."

"Man, he is gonna flip his shit," Two-Bit says. "Into overdrive."

Steve sits up straight in his chair. Nods. "We've got company."

Hank Greer, better known as Budweiser, is crossing the bar, fists clenched, and a fight on his mind. The uncontrollable urge to grab Budweiser's face and slam it onto the countertop overtakes me. I grip my beer instead. Ready myself.

OoO

"How was it?" I ask as Ponyboy climbs inside the cab. The Cowboy watches me back out, standing on the porch until I turn the corner and can no longer see him.

"Fine. Imagine spending the day with a total stranger."

"What'd you two talk about?"

He shrugs and buckles up. "I didn't have much to say. He showed me around his farm. We had lunch and watched some TV." He rolls his eyes. "Boy howdy, real exciting stuff."

"Pony."

"What."

"Did you talk about—"

"No," he says, wrinkling his nose. "I didn't want to hear about any of that." He looks at me dim green eyes. "All I wanted to do was just get home."

OoO

Darry and Ponyboy enter the house and immediately part ways. Ponyboy heading to our bedroom, barely looking my way, Darry to his. Ten seconds later, Darry's back, changed and reaching for his jacket. He does a double take when he sees my busted lip.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I take a breath, say, "I'm in some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Then – "Are you outta your damn mind?" he hisses when I begin to tell him about the poker with Hank Greer. "Gambling? On top of all this. What were you thinking, Sodapop?"

"Listen, Dar, there's m—"

"Never mind. I don't want to know." He checks his watch. "I have to go," he says. "I'm meeting Josie. We'll talk about this tomorrow." His fed-up expression tells me this isn't up for discussion, one of the only times I've ever seen my brother really frazzled.

I need to tell him about the threat. I know it'll only make him madder but I can't chance it. "Darry, there's something else."

"Not now," he snaps. "Tomorrow. Feed your brother and stay home tonight, Sodapop. Stay out of trouble."

OoO

"Glory, what happened to your face?"

"Long story."

I cross my arms and plop on the bed. Soda has a busted lip and a cut above his eyebrow. "No way. You're telling me. I'm sick of never knowing anything." I cock an eyebrow. "I hear more than you and Darry think."

Soda chuckles. "I know you do. And I'll tell you, kiddo," he gently says, crossing the room, "if you tell me how it went today."

"You first."

"I got in a fight with someone."

"Who?"

"Some guy." He sits next to me. "It's nothing big…but kiddo…"

"Yeah?"

"Keep an eye out. Just promise me you'll be careful."

Shooting him a quizzical glance, I say, "Ain't I always careful?"

"You are but I still worry about you." Soda flashes me his token smile. "That's my job." He leans over, ruffling my hair. "So how'd it go today?"

"It was bad," I say.

"Why?" Soda's face twitches, and I get, in that instant, how bothered my brother is by this. How angry. He so doggedly refuses to believe anything; his blinders scare me even though I should know by now how black and white he can be.

Still, I find I can tell Sodapop anything. That I need to tell him. There's a photo on my nightstand of my parents, standing in front of our house, holding hands. The Cowboy flashes into my mind and I wonder how much of my memory he can taint.

"His eyes look like mine," say and Soda's face goes white. "Exactly like them." I play with a stray string on the blanket, sick of pretending, when Sodapop looks at me with one of the worst expressions I've ever seen in my life.

OoO

Bright light of the morning and Sodapop looks utterly miserable. Smoke crowds the air around him, cigarette in his mouth. His lip is better, but it's still fat and swollen. I sit next to him on the porch stairs.

"I'm worried about you, Sodapop," I say. He doesn't look at me. "You're doing some really stupid things these days. You're blowing up too much…fighting…and well, it just ain't like you."

Soda still doesn't turn his head my way. Out of all of us he's taking it the hardest. Pony seems bound and determined to fight, no matter what he believes about this whole mess, while Sodapop just gets mad. I rest a hand on his shoulder.

"You hearin' me buddy?"

"Shoot," Soda says. "I'm sorry, Dar." He chucks his cigarette butt into the grass. "I'm not sure what I'm doing these days. I know you don't need to deal with more of my shit."

"This is hard, I know. But we all have to deal with it." Across the street a lawn mower starts up, signaling the morning has started. "How much are you in for?" He tells me and irritation flickers through me. There's a slight creak, the screen door rattling and I glance back over my shoulder at the noise before returning to my brother.

"Jesus, Soda…"

"I know," he says. He looks at me with dark eyes. "There's something else too."

"What else?"

"I had a week to get the money and I haven't yet…and now Hank's threatening you and Ponyboy." He screws his face up, pained. "God, Darry, I'm so sorry…"

I'm angry. So goddamn angry that Pony's been dragged into this, that it's another thing on my plate that I have to fix, but I stay calm for Soda's sake. "I'll try to get you the money," I say, even though I have no idea how I'm going to do it. "You watch out for Ponyboy, you hear me?"

Soda looks hurt at my admonishment. "Of course, Dar. I'll always do that."

I curl my hands into fists. Say firmly, "You knock this shit off, Sodapop. Cool it on whatever it is you're doing because it's coming back to bite us in the ass."

He nods, staring straight ahead. Soda lights another smoke, bringing the end to his lips. He takes a deep drag, his shoulders hunched and heavy.

OoO

Pardon typos.

I just love you all. Thank you for reading and reviewing. What can I say?

XO,

Feisty