Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns. Cursing.

Big Leagues

OoO

The door sharply slams. He walks into the room, soaked with rain, the rims of his eyes red. "Darry leave?"

"Yeah, he wanted to say goodbye to you, kiddo."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he'll call." Looking miserable, Ponyboy drops into the recliner and begins to rock. He sneezes. Once. Twice.

I don't know how Darry does it. Pony and I've barely said five words to each other since our argument about Thomas Mercer. I don't know what to say to make it right.

"Where've you been?"

"I went to the cemetery. Went to see dad."

An invisible wire slices my guy in half. "Pony…"

"Don't, Soda," he says. "Don't. I can't do this right now."

"Okay," I say, so we don't.

OoO

"'lo?"

"Darry?" A breathless, whispery voice, sounding slightly familiar. I cushion the phone tighter against my ear to hear.

"No, sorry, he's not here right now….He'll be back next Monday…" Soft breathing. I frown, scouring the kitchen for a notepad. "Can I take a message or something?"

"No, no…" the woman says. "I'll try later. I'm sorry I missed him." There's a click as she hangs up, the dial tone buzzing in my ear.

OoO

Josie dumps the four fishing poles on the ground of the cabin's floor. They land like scattered toothpicks. "We made it," she drawls. "One week of sweet freedom." I pull her close, kiss her temple. She wriggles out of my grasp, laughing. "I gotta get the food from the car, Darry. Now be a man and make us a fire."

When she's gone, I take in the small cabin. It's maybe 200 square feet, with a fireplace, a bed, and a small sink and a hotplate. My dad used to bring me here in the winter and we'd ice fish on the lake behind the cabin.

I move the cooler into a corner, straighten up and contemplate that week of freedom Josie was talking about.

OoO

"Thomas? Rita? You here?"

No answer in the farmhouse. I scour downstairs, finding Goosey lounging on the couch. She barks and bounds upstairs. Following her, I climb the rickety steps; spot the Cowboy's bedroom, Goosey prowling in the doorway. A furious breeze wafts through, coming from the balcony, its doors thrown wide-open.

Stepping out onto the patio, the breeze is even fiercer. Dark storm clouds roll in the distance, rain brewing up. The weather's been off in Tulsa, unusually hotter than normal. I close the door, ready to get out of there when I see a leather-bound book on the dresser.

Knowing I'm being nosy but unable to help it, I open the book up. It's an album. Inside are old photos…early ones of a young Thomas and a younger Margarita. They then turn into Thomas and my mom. Margarita's in some of them...she and Lara are in the Corvette, waving at the camera…they're at what looks like a dinner party, sipping wine…in one Rita has her hand on my mom's flat stomach, Lara's frowning….then it's my mom and a brunette woman, sitting on a couch and laughing…

I flip through and towards the end of the album, there's the same brunette woman kissing Thomas on the cheek. She's in white and they're on a beach somewhere, palm trees lining the sand. I pull that photo out of the sleeve and flip it over. In neat cursive: Helen + Tommy, Wedding Day, Coconut Grove. My face feels hot. I put the photo away and head back downstairs when I hear Margarita calling for me.

OoO

I've left Josie back at the cabin, claiming I needed to go into town for more food and supplies. She had merely cracked a smiled and a knowing brow, but said nothing else. The gas station cashier is reading a magazine. Above his head a TV is playing, the weather man showing clear skies above Arkansas. I drop change in the coin slot and dial. Pony answers after three rings. The one I really want to talk to.

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?"

"It's fine. How 'bout you?"

"Goin' good here, aimin' to do some fishing tomorrow." The weather's switching over to Oklahoma. The meteorologist points at dark gray blobs on the screen. "How're you and Soda?"

"Okay," he says and I inwardly groan. Prying more than two-syllables out of him is going to be work. "You two need anything?"

"No, we're fine, Dar. I told you. You should go have fun. Forget about us."

"Mighty tempting, but I just can't do it, Ponyboy."

"Yeah well," he says. "Try. For a few days at least. We didn't spend our hard earned money for nothin'." Then he says, "Someone called for you yesterday."

"Who?"

"Don't know. A woman. Sounded funny."

I think about it, put two and two together. Mrs. Mathews.

"Dar?" Pony asks when I cuss under my breath.

"It's okay. I'll take care of it when I get back."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Ponyboy."

OoO

"Now, mijo, why do you want to know a thing such as that?"

"Just curious, I guess." I play dumb. "Wondered if he married anyone after he met my mom, is all." The Helen from the photo, the Cowboy's wife, has been on my mind. I'm not sure why, just that the ache in my gut is telling me to play hide-and-seek.

Rita sniffs, offended. I bite my lip; push my sandwich around on my plate. "She wasn't anything like your mama," Rita finally says when I take a bite of the sandwich. She whooshes around the kitchen; dropping kibble into a bowl for Goosey and handing me a glass of chocolate milk.

"That Helen Hayley was a puta, plain and simple. I still remember that name because it's so ugly. Mijo, she was a mistake," Rita says. She smiles beatifically, coming over to squeeze my face between her rough hands. "He stills pines for your mama. For Lara."

I swallow a mouthful of bread and peanut butter. Try not to seem too interested. "So he did get married?"

"No mas, no more," Rita spits, sounding irritated. "I don't want to speak of this." She winds around the counter and starts scrubbing it with a rag. She hums an Elvis tune.

Watching her squirm, I log the name away. Helen Hayley. My summer just got a lot busier.

OoO

It's late and it's wet and Darry's truck is slipping all over the road like a slick son-of-a-bitch.

"So what'd you think of Betsy?"

"What'd you think I think of her?"

"I think you wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole…even with her considerable assets…"

"No offense, Stevie, but Evie's friends ain't exactly the bright—Jesus!"

We're coming down the freeway at nearly 80 MPH when red taillights in front of us light up. I slam on the brakes and we skid to a stop, nearly crunching into a back bumper. I peer out of the window. There's a line of taillights about a mile long ahead of us. Cop cars and fire trucks sit off to the side of the road, their red and blues flashing.

Impatient, Steve drums his fingers on the dash. "What a clusterfuck…"

We sit in traffic for about 15 minutes, an angry Steve scrolling through the radio stations. He'll settle on one and then switch off as soon as a song begins. I think of my date earlier – I'd take the traffic over her any day.

A firemen is walking the white line dividing traffic, when he says, "I thought I recognized this ride…" The voice is familiar. I groan as Thomas Mercer approaches, decked out in fireman gear. He shines a flashlight in my face. "Sodapop. Steve. How're you two doing?"

"Accident up ahead?" I ask, ignoring his question.

"Big one. Semi overturned. Crews are cleaning it up now. Should be on your way in about ten minutes."

"Great." I shift the truck into drive, letting the engine rev.

"Say, how's the racing going?" the Cowboy asks, shining the light on Steve. His tone is familiar, making me wonder when they've met outside of the track meet. "The kid finally get it right?"

"What kid?" I ask. Steve's pale, the tenseness in his jaw something I recognize. "My kid? Are you talking about Ponyboy?"

Steve shoots me a I'll-tell-you-later look, but turns his attention to Thomas. His voice is friendly. "Still needs a little work if you ask me."

Thomas nods, chuckling. "Well, feel free to use the 'vette any time. I don't mind." Then, he's saying goodbye and rejoining a group of firefighters on the sidelines.

I twist in my seat. "What in the hell was that about?"

Steve says, "Listen, Sodapop," and tells me. By the time he's done we're driving along the freeway at a crawl. My knuckles are white as I grip the wheel.

"I don't believe you," I snap. "Either of you."

"C'mon Soda," Steve says. "Shit, we were drag racing when we were his age."

"Get off it, Steve. I ain't mad about that. I'm mad because you didn't say nothing about any of it. When it comes to my brother, I want to know about it. Especially when it involves that prick."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me! You know I don't like the guy, and you go and drive his fucking car?"

Wincing, Steve says, "Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do."

I give him a look. Reach over to turn up the radio. "God damn, sometimes you can be a real son-of-a-bitch."

OoO

The clear water of the lake shimmers as the sun sets. Josie casts her fishing pole, the line streaming out into the lake. Sitting in the lawn chair, she digs into the cooler beside her and pulls out two beers. She tosses me one and I catch it. We don't say much; we don't need to.

I crack the beer and take a sip.

We're going on three days at the cabin and all I've had to worry about is what Josie and I are going to do next. I don't know how to thank my brothers; they really pulled one over on me. I could see how much it meant to Pony, me simply finishing my first semester.

Damn it.

Just like that – thinking of my brothers – I'm flooded with wondering about Mrs. Mathews. I've toyed with calling her from the gas station but Josie said she'd tie me to the bed, which didn't seem like such a threat but I listened to her anyway.

Josie's calling me. She points at the lowering sun. "I'm hungry," she says. I finish my beer, start reeling in my line.

OoO

"Thanks a lot, kid."

I glance up from the phone book, my finger paused on the third Hayley, H, to see Steve hanging in the doorframe of my bedroom. "What do you want?"

He smiles; something between a grimace and a smirk. "Soda's pissed at us."

"What else is new? He pissed at me too."

The smile disappears. "Look, you little shit; we never should have borrowed that car. I never should have taken you to the lookout."

I bite my lip, having already figured Soda would be upset over that. His best friend palling around with another car and with the Cowboy definitely wouldn't sit well. First me, now Steve? Soda's probably ready to combust by now.

Steve moves close, sitting on the edge of my bed. His dark eyes flicker to the notepad I have beside my leg with its scrawled addresses. There's about ten of them.

"What's that?"

"Research."

"What kind of research, kid?" Steve snatches up the notepad, scrutinizing. "Anything you end up sticking your nose in blows up in your face."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks." I rip the notepad from Steve's hands. "Just looking into the Cowboy a little bit. Trying to find out some stuff, is all."

"You know…" Steve shifts on the bed, looking uneasy. "You can dig around all you want. But you're gonna make yourself crazy doin' it, you know that right? What if you find out something you don't like?"

"I don't think things can get much worse." I slide my finger from the phonebook, letting it slap closed. I pull my legs up under me. "So I guess this means we're done practicing?"

"Who said anything about that? Somebody's got to teach you to drive right, Ponyboy."

OoO

"Now what you want with Helen?"

The woman in front of me – Hazel Hayley – scribbles something on a piece of paper. She's blonde and plump with glasses. I've been all over town, trying to find Helen Hayley or a Helen Mercer, and ended up finding her sister.

"I wanted to uh, ask her about her ex-husband."

"Who?" She stops mid-scribble. "Tommy?"

"Yeah, Thomas Mercer."

"Well, she goes by her other married name now, Helen Fowler, so you've been looking in the wrong spot. Here…" She hands me the piece of paper. "She lives over on Elderod Drive."

"Thanks."

Hazel rests her palms on the countertop dividing us. "And just who are you to be asking around about this?"

"I want to know if she knew my mom. Lara Curtis…"

Her eyes get big. "Oh. Oh boy."

OoO

No idea what's happening in the real world and I kind of like it.

The battery-operated radio Josie has out is playing Van Morrison. I flip the burgers on the grill, watch Josie bound out of the cabin with a bag of chips. It's nearly dark outside, the moon showing through the clouds.

She sets paper plates and beers on the picnic table. I groan. "All I've done this week is drink."

Josie raises a brow. "And that's a bad thing…? Relax, Darry…you'll be back to normal in about two days."

When the burgers are done I join her at the picnic table. She pours chips on my plate and we start to talk. I tell her a bit about my parents; she talks about her eight sisters, her part-time job at the law firm. We talk about school. "I don't know…" I say, when Josie asks me what I want to do with my degree. "I haven't thought that far ahead…"

"You must have some idea…" She nods, politely sips her beer. "I could see you with your own business. Ever think about doing that?"

It's a nice thought to have. "Maybe…maybe I'd do construction, who knows. For now, I just want to concentrate on making it through community college."

"You'll make the big leagues."

"Right."

"I swear, Darrel, you're so serious." She pokes me in the ribs. "You need to laugh more."

I crack a smile and grab her wrist. "So party animal, what do you want to do tonight then?"

She pretends to shiver. Slides closer on the bench. "Well, it's getting chilly out. You want to bunker down here tonight. Keep me warm?"

"I think I can manage that."

OoO

I'm about ready to walk out the front door when I realize Two-Bit's on our couch. He's in a slouch, eyes glazed over, watching a TV show that I doubt he barely sees. He's been acting strange lately.

"Two-Bit?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong?"

"Ah, come off it, man, I can tell…" I sit beside him on the couch. "You're not your usual charming self." Ducking my head, I give him a smile.

"Hell, kid, my mind's in the gutter these days."

I check the clock on the wall. I should be leaving to go hunt down Helen Hayley before Darry gets back into town but one look at Two-Bit's face stops me. "You want to go do something, Two-Bit?"

I try to think what Two-Bit likes to do…

"Maybe…go get a drink?"

"Kid, the mere fact that you're offering to go get a beer with me tells me you really do care." He sits up. "So I'll tell you. I got a job."

"A what?"

"A job. You know like something you to do make money."

"No I heard you…I just—can't believe it."

"Well, believe it. Pigs flew." I crack a smile. Two-Bit holds up a hand. "It's for my ma. She's not doing too well right now so I figured I'd help out."

I bite my lip. "I'm sorry, Two-Bit." I don't ask anything more. If he wants me to know, he'll say so.

"It's okay, kid."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Yeah," he says, grinning. "You can buy a car from me."

OoO

After talking with Two-Bit I decided to try.

To go with the flow and work it out. I can't stay angry with my brothers, not when we've worked so hard. I see Two-Bit and hope, somehow, that I can help my friend. Somehow, I'll make it work out for everyone. Life's too short to do anything else.

OoO

Ew, gross. I kinda wrote a semi-romantic scene. Ugh. But I did it for Darry ok? OK?

Anyway, hope you're enjoying. Reviews would be amazing.

XO,

Feisty