Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns, Cursing.

Just a Guy

OoO

Staring at photos has taken up the majority of my time.

Squinting, I evaluate one of my mom and dad, and one of my mom and Thomas. Dad's the spitting image of Darry. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, blue eyes, square jaw. I go over every aspect, searching for something…

I glance up from my seat on the porch as a car rumbles. Steve and Two-Bit are climbing out of Two-Bit's busted truck. Darry and Soda are both at work, giving me the house to myself. The cigarette bobs in my mouth. I stick the photos under my leg as they approach but Steve sees.

"What's that?" Steve raises his dark eyebrows. When I don't answer he snaps his fingers. "Give it up, whatever you're hiding."

I hand over the photos. At Steve's glance of surprise I ask, "So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About the Cowboy. Do I look like him or what?"

"Oh, Ponyboy…" Two-Bit begins, his voice hurt. "This ain't cool, kid."

"I just want an honest opinion. I can't tell anymore."

Steve chews his lip. "Yeah, you know what, Pony? It kind of does. Spitting image actually." He smirks a little bit and then hands the photos back to me. I take them, feeling lost.

"You're an asshole," Two-Bit spits. He disappears inside, the screen door clattering.

"It's just the eyes," Steve says, sounding gentler. "That's all it is."

Two-Bit returns with a picture frame in his hand. It's the photo of our mom and dad we keep on the mantle. They're on the couch, holding hands; it's a close-up of their faces. I still remember the day – New Year's Eve, a year before they died.

Sitting beside me on the bench, Two-Bit taps the glass. "You have your mom's eyes," Two-Bit says. "You see that? Not his. It's just a coincidence, kid. It's the green. Everyone can say they look like someone else. That ain't nothin special…"

The porch creaks as Steve shifts, leaning against the side of the house to watch. He doesn't say anything.

Two-Bit continues. "You got your dad's shit-eating grin. It's crooked, like his here. You're quiet like he was too." He touches the glass again, then hands me the frame. "Do you see it, kid?"

Carefully, I stare.

"Stop worrying about it, Ponyboy. Stop trying to figure it out because it doesn't matter. You're a Curtis. That's it."

OoO

The gift from Sodapop and Ponyboy was a week's stay at a cabin in Fresh Springs, Arkansas. My dad used to take me there on long weekend trips to go fishing. It's been a dream of mine to go back; to just relax and fish. Apparently, my brothers had been saving up ever since I enrolled at school.

"Next week?"

"I got the time off. We can go."

Giggling, Josie claps her hands together. She eyes the map I have spread out on the kitchen table. "How long's the drive?"

"About four hours to Little Rock and then another hour to the cabin." I show her the route, tracing I-40 with my finger.

OoO

"You know…" Thomas begins, "now that you're out of school you ain't just gotta come over here on Saturdays."

"Well, when do you want me to come over?" I ask, suddenly nervous. Margarita bustles around the kitchen, sets a glass of chocolate milk in front of me. I rub my eyes, tired, unable to sleep lately.

"I know I work during the week, Ponyboy, but I was wondering if you wanted a job for the summer. Full time. Make some extra cash."

I consider it. Slowly spin around on the stool. Goosey nudges my sneaker with her nose and I lean down, brushing fingertips against her fur. Thomas finishes his crossword puzzle, folding up the paper. He gives me an easy smile.

"What do you say, kid?"

"I guess so," I tell him. "I ain't got nothin' better to do anyway."

The Cowboy laughs, loose and long.

OoO

No answer and I've been knocking for five minutes. I step back from the porch and wait. Eye the red Corvette that's sitting in the front yard. Realizing no one's coming, I press the door open, step inside. "Hello?" I call out. "Pony?"

Faint voices float out of a back room. I walk down the hall, listening.

"No no, mijo, silencio the H…"

"Hola. Like that?"

"Si, si…now we try buenos noches. Good night. You try, mijo."

"I'm never gonna learn this Rita. It's like rocket science…"

I smile as I round the corner, seeing Ponyboy on the couch next to a small, dark woman. "If anyone can do rocket science, it's my kid brother."

"Hey Sodapop."

"You ready to go?" I ask, eager to get the hell out of Thomas Mercer's house.

Ponyboy stands. "Rita, this is Sodapop."

"Hola, Sodapop." The older woman gives a nod. "Two hermanos with strange names." Rita cackles. "Would you like Spanish lesson?"

"Can't right now." I flash a smile. "Gotta be getting on back." Ponyboy tells Rita goodbye and she says something in Spanish. I usher my brother out of the house. "Where's the Cowboy?"

"He had to go visit the next farm. He gets called away a lot."

"You like coming here?"

"It's better than I thought."

His green eyes focus on the farmhouse as we pull out of the drive, the chocolate lab bounding off the deck. Pony seems like he wants to say more but then settles for turning on the radio instead.

OoO

"Hey, Dar…"

I pull my sunglasses down, the half-eaten sandwich in my hand forgotten. "Hey, Two-Bit, what's goin' on? Everything okay?" It's not every day Two-Bit shows up at my work.

Two-Bit scuffs the tip of his tennis shoe in the dirt. He sits across from me at the picnic table. "I'm not sure." He fans his hands out on top of the table. "Does he know—I mean…have you told him…?"

"Told him what? Who're you talking about, Two-Bit?" He's never looked so serious. And when Two-Bit's serious you pay attention.

"Look…I'm not good at this Darry…but…have you talked to the kid about…well…hell, how he's dealin' with all this?" He smears his hair back. "I mean…I think he's lookin for things that ain't there. You know, Pony…"

I sigh. I sure do. "He just wants to find something…he's confused. I'll talk to him." I cap my thermos. "Speaking of Pony…I've been trying to call your mom, Two-Bit. Where's she been?"

"She's been home." He flinches. "I don't know what she wants to tell you, Dar…she barely talks to me as it is…but I doubt it's important."

"Maybe not," I say. "But I'm still curious." Something in Cindy Mathews's tone caught my attention. It may not be anything and I might be putting too much stock in it but I can't take the chance.

"Yeah, well," Two-Bit says with a shrug, "if she says anything remotely interesting you be sure to let me know."

"Keith," I say as he stands up. He bristles at the use of his first name, pain evident in his flinty eyes. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." He chuckles without humor. "I think I'm just confused these days too."

OoO

It's hot for the beginning of June. I wipe my brow as I exit the house, glancing up at the sky. Big, swollen clouds are blowing in. "It's gonna storm," The Cowboy says, pointing to the weathervane on the roof. It spins round and round. He's sitting in the porch swing, reading a thick book – something boring about farming practices.

Another Saturday, another day at the Cowboy's. It's habit now, none of us really thinking or expecting any different. Darry or Soda drop me off and pick me up. I either end up in the stables with the Cowboy or having Rita fuss over me.

"Want some lemonade or something?" Thomas Mercer asks. "I know Rita made a fresh batch…"

I smile to myself. I'll never get over this whole different world I've been thrown into. One where I could ride in a Corvette and have lunch made for me. I don't want it. I don't need it. It's not my scene – too Socy. It's just interesting.

Leaning against the railing, I light a smoke, facing the Cowboy. "You don't have to do that you know…"

"Do what?"

"I don't know…ask Rita for things…I can get 'em myself."

"I know you can. I get it…You ain't impressed."

"Oh, I—"

"I'm not trying to impress you, kid. It's just my life. Been like this for a long time."

"Sorry," I mumble, feeling like an idiot. Finished my with my first, I light another cigarette.

"No apologies," he says, chuckling. "That's the exact same thing your mama said to me too. 'Stop showing off, Thomas'." Setting his book aside, Thomas rubs his palms on his jeans. "Now…what did your big brothers say about the summer? Odd jobs here and there?"

"I don't think it's such a hot idea…"

Thomas frowns. "They said that?"

"No." I hesitate, say, "I haven't asked them yet. I get the feeling they wouldn't like it too much."

The Cowboy slowly nods. Rita comes out, tray of drinks in her hand. She sets it on the porch table, says something in Spanish to Thomas and then retreats. A strong breeze blows in, rolling across the hills, and the ash falls from the tip of my smoke.

OoO

"Shit," I hiss, seeing the time. "Can you go?"

Steve, in the process of clocking out, looks up. "Can I go what?"

"Go get, Pony." I gesture at the disemboweled car in front of me. "I ain't near finished. Lloyd'll shit himself if I leave it like this."

"Just let him stay there, man. I'm sure a few extra hours—okay, okay…" Steve holds up his hand at the expression I'm giving him. "I'll go get him. Christ, Sodapop…"

He leaves muttering. I turn my attention to the car in front of me, looking up and around as thunder booms outside, shaking the sides of the DX.

OoO

"Friend of yours?" The Cowboy removes his hat.

We're walking back from the stables when I see Steve loping his way across the yard. Although we've been getting along lately, going out to practice racing, I can see he ain't too hot on picking me up now. Probably because I'm at Thomas's. Steve's scowling, his long stride fast. His truck is parked in the driveway. Immediately, Goosey bounds his way, slurping and slobbering, and Steve looks ready to maim.

"Where've you been?" he snaps when we reach each other. We pause near the pond and the enormous oak tree. Steve barely acknowledges Thomas.

"Where's Soda?"

"He's still at work. Asked me to come and get you." His dark eyes flicker to the Cowboy and then back my way. "You ready?"

I follow him back to the house, The Cowboy keeping quiet, when Steve stops in his tracks and whistles. "She's a beauty." He's staring at the Corvette. The two of them walk closer to the car, Steve gravitating as if he's getting pulled by a magnet. "What…is she a '58 or '59…?" Steve's voice is cool and removed, but I can tell he's impressed.

"Nailed it. '58."

They start talking about the engine, about the top speed, about drag racing, and just when I'm getting ready to roll my eyes, the Cowboy is handing Steve the keys.

Slightly shocked, and looking only slightly guilty, Steve asks me, "What do you think? You want to practice?"

"With this?"

"No, with that John Deere over there," Steve says, rolling his eyes. "Of course with this."

Thomas laughs. "Go ahead. You ain't gonna wreck it. We're out here in the boonies…nothing to hit but cows."

"What do you say, Pony?" Steve dangles the keys. "You can show me the moves you don't have."

I point at Steve, say to Thomas, "You do know he already wrecked a car?"

The Cowboy laughs again. "I do…I was there remember?"

Steve cracks the driver's side door. "Get in, smart ass."

OoO

"Why're you so late?"

Eyes brushing around the house, Pony quietly shuts the front door, his hair windblown, raindrops stuck to his clothes. "Is Darry mad?"

"Darry ain't here. He's at Josie's." At Ponyboy's relieved sigh, I say, "Where've you been, kiddo?" Headlights fill the windows as I hear Steve's truck back out of the driveway. There's a quick honk, and then the street quiets again.

"You knew where I was," he says, sounding unsure. "I don't know what the big deal is."

I follow him into the kitchen. He gets a glass of water, chugging it in a long gulp. "You shouldn't be spending so much time over there, kiddo. He ain't a good influence."

"It's not hurting anything. And if gets him off our back, so what?"

"I don't like him. I don't like you over there when you ain't got to be."

"He ain't that bad, Soda." Pony bites his lip, leans back against the counter and says in a low voice, "Listen, I thought…I thought I might work there over the summer….If it's okay with you and Darry…"

"Why in the hell would you want to do that?"

"I don't know. It'd give me something to do… plus I can't bum around town like Two-Bit."

"I don't get why you'd want to spend more time over there than you need to."

He swallows. Bites his lip. "You know…I kind of—I kind of like him, Sodapop."

"Jesus, Pony, are you kidding me? You aren't startin to think of him—"

He draws back, hurt. "Glory, Sodapop. I'd never do that. He'll never be my dad. I could never think that."

"Pony, I don't know what you're thinking anymore. I hate that son-of-a-bitch…"

I run a hand down my jaw, stare down at the floor. When I glance back up, Ponyboy's watching me with this strange expression. His face crumples, like he might cry. I open my mouth to apologize but he's faster.

"So what? Do you hate me too?"

"Kiddo…I didn't—"

Pony's face hardens. "Give him a break. Everyone makes mistakes, Sodapop."

He walks out of the room. Shit. I've never felt as lousy as I do tonight.

OoO

The floor creaks, the fridge opens and there are soft footsteps across the tile. Tearing my eyes away from the TV, I see Ponyboy try to slip by me.

"Hey kiddo. C'mere for a minute."

He shuffles in. "Hey, Dar, I didn't know you were up."

"I want to talk to you about Thomas Mercer."

He sits across from me on the couch, pulling his legs underneath. His voice is soft. "Okay."

"Soda says you want to work there during the summer?"

"I know he's upset …but he's just some guy, Dar. He's not dad. I know that."

I think about this, not sure how I feel. I've tried to be calm, be understanding, but this bothers me. That someone else I don't know is having such an impact on my brother. "I know you do, kiddo…but…do you really think it's a good idea?"

"What else am I gonna do this summer? Hang out with Curly Shepard?" He wiggles his eyebrows and I chuckle. Agreeing to let Ponyboy work for Thomas Mercer this summer seems like a nightmare, on the other hand it could be a blessing in disguise. Soda and I both have to work full-time. Maybe it's the best way we can keep tabs on him…

Still I find myself saying, "You should just relax this summer, not get messed up with this guy…"

Giving me a doubtful look, Pony says, "Since when do you want me to just relax?" He sighs. "I like him, Dar. I shouldn't but I do."

"I can't like him, Pony. Not when he's done what he's done, claiming that—"

"So what do you think about me? That dad would be disappointed in me?"

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"I thought it would help," Ponyboy says, sounding frustrated. "I only went over there to get him off our case so things wouldn't get worse…but they are worse. I can't make you – I can't make Soda happy. I can't make anyone happy."

"Pony…"

"Forget it," he says, green eyes flashing. "Just forget it."

OoO

"Damn it…"

"Darry?" Soda's lingering in the doorway of my bedroom. He raises an eyebrow, gestures at the mess. Two suitcases strewn across my bed, a dozen socks scattered everywhere. "Need some help?"

"I don't know what to pack for this trip…" I run a hand through my hair. "Hell, I shouldn't even go anymore, with all this goin' on…"

Pony's upset with both of us. While we may not have said the wrong thing, the way we said it hurt him. After a lot of back and forth, I finally agreed to let him work at the Cowboy's place twice a week. A goddamn custody arrangement I don't like.

"We'll be fine." Soda sits on the edge of my bed. He gives me a wolfish grin. "Go and have fun with Josie. A lot of fun."

I chuckle. Give Soda the name of the closest gas station to where we're staying. He can get in touch with me there. The cabin has no electricity so Josie and I'll be roughing it for a week. Rushing around the room, I finish packing. As an after-thought I throw a tie into the suitcase.

"A tie, Dar?" Soda asks."What, you James Bond now?"

Grabbing the suitcase, I sock his arm. "Hold down the fort, Sodapop. Take care of him."

OoO

Too many things. The guilt is unbearable.

Kneeling on the soft, damp earth, I touch the smooth headstone that reads DARREL CURTIS. "I wish you were here, dad. I'm doing everything wrong."

It had been a mistake to admit the truth to my brothers. No one's happy with me. I'm upset Darry and Soda would even think I'd consider Thomas Mercer my father. I'd never see him as that; he's just a guy with a link to my mom's past. They're all I've got and admitting it kills me just as much as it hurts them.

"I hope you don't hate me too. I'm trying to do the right thing; I just have no idea what the hell that is."

I sit there, for how long I don't know. A bird caws in the distance, the rumble of the truck across the road. It starts to rain. Big heavy drops that land on my face and hair. I look up into the dark clouds, warmth spreading behind my eyes.

"I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

OoO

Pardon typos.

Please read and review. They are much loved.

XO,

Feisty