Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns. Swearing. AND A BIG CLIFFIE. I warned you.

All the Fishes in the Sea

OoO

July flies by. In between registering for fall classes and working, I dig around in the attic. A lot. Searching for letters my mother may have never mailed. I don't find anything and again, the doubt is there. I try to have another talk with Mrs. Mathews but, like before, she won't return my calls.

I decide to tell Soda.

OoO

As angry as I am with my brother for keeping this from me, I'm so goddamned happy it makes up for it.

"I can't find out anything else," Darry's saying, his fingers spread across the top of the kitchen table, his hands large and full of veins. "I looked everywhere, Sodapop."

"Do you believe Mrs. Mathews?"

"I don't know what to think, Sodapop…but yeah, deep down, I do."

I grin; draw up straighter in the chair. "She's right. I know she is. Do you know what that means, Dar? Do you know what that goddamn means?" I pound a fist on the table. "We can get rid of the Cowboy. Once and for-fucking-all."

"It does mean that…" Darry begins. "But we have to be careful. We don't have any real proof."

"He didn't have proof either. I'd say we're about even."

"I know, Soda, but she may or may not be right and I don't want to risk stirring the pot. I don't want to hurt Pony either."

I get what Darry's saying. Throwing more doubt into our youngest brother's head isn't what he wants to do. I don't either. But still, he needs to know.

"So we don't tell him?"

"Not yet."

"Well, when do we tell him, Dar? We can't keep letting it go on like this. Keeping it from him just ain't right."

"I know," Darry says. "Soon. We'll tell him soon." He squeezes his hands into fists.

OoO

"What're you up to today, Ponyboy?" My brother's shoving a notepad and pencil into his backpack. He zips his bag, shouldering it.

"Just bummin' around town I guess." He bites his lip, face red. "Maybe go see Two-Bit."

I give him a look telling him I don't believe him. I know how he is when he's up to something – but I let it go for now. I check my watch. My shift starts in 20 minutes, a job an hour outside of town. Throwing a glance to the window, the sky's brewing with clouds and rain.

"Yeah, well, you be sure to get back by dinner. Sooner if it gets worse out. You never know how these storms are gonna turn out."

Lately, tornado warnings have been rolling in nearly every other night. It's hotter than it should be and that combined with the rain and humidity has everyone in Tulsa on watch.

"Sure thing, Dar."

"Hey," I say as he's about to leave. "We need to talk about Saturday."

He wrinkles his nose. "Aw, Dar, I told you, I don't want one."

"We ain't just gonna do nothin'," Soda says, running out of his bedroom, DX cap on his head, a car magazine under one arm. "So forget about it." He gives the both of us a wave and is out the door, Steve waiting for him in the driveway.

I say, "Look, we'll talk tonight, okay kiddo?" He shrugs, trying to hide a smile.

It's three days until Ponyboy's sixteenth birthday.

OoO

Helen Hayley Mercer Fowler wears her dark hair in a high bun. A cloud of smoke wafts around her head. She offers me a cigarette and I take one. She offers me a drink and I tell her I'll pass. She's a Soc if I've ever seen one. So far we've made small talk about the weather Darry's so concerned about, and now the conversation turns to Thomas Mercer.

"So…" she says after I tell her why I'm there. Brown eyes squint, evaluating. "Funny. You may look like him but you're not his. Close though. I'd almost buy it." Helen ashes her smoke. She raises a finely arched brow. "He believes it?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. A thunder of footsteps above me. I raise my eyes to the ceiling of the gigantic house.

"Why wouldn't he…he always loved Lara." Helen smiles, but it's fake. "I knew your mom. She was sweet. In a way."

Unsure if that's a compliment or insult, I ignore it. I ask, "You don't think it's true?"

"Honey, I know it. You ain't that man's child."

"How do you know?"

"I was his wife."

"But…But how?" Everything in my vision is going black. I have to force myself to focus. "How?"

"Well, clearly, your mama never got the chance to tell you not to ask ladies such brazen questions." Helen smirks. Opens her mouth and hollers, "Freddy! Keep it down! Don't make me come up there!" Instantly, the noise upstairs quiets.

"Kids," Helen says. She looks at me so long, like she's expecting me to get something that I finally blink. She tinkles out a long laugh. "Oh, honey. You don't get it do you? It was all about the kids." She gives me a withering glance then points to the ceiling.

"Kids. Thomas Mercer was shooting blanks, pardon my French."

"What?"

"Blanks. As in dry as a well." There's a long drag on her smoke and I sit there feeling like I've been slapped. "Seven years with the man and nothing. I know it."

It's odd having this conversation with an adult. "But, but then why would he think…"

With one wave, she dismisses the question. "I never told Tommy. It would have killed him. Especially after Lara…" Her face softens. "I loved him, but I wanted a family. I couldn't stay with him after—damn it, Freddy! I told you, you play nice with your sister!"

I sit, frozen.

"Child, are you alright?" Showing some of the first compassion I've seen all day, Helen offers me a tissue. I blot my forehead, the sweat sticking in layers.

"I'm okay," I say. I stand, ready to go.

"Is that maid still there? That Rita?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," Helen sniffs. "She never liked me."

She walks me to the door. Presses a smooth palm against my cheek. "You look very much like your mother," she says.

OoO

I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do. The conversation with Helen Hayley having thrown me for a loop.

So I go to the worst, or maybe the best, place that I know.

The Cowboy's.

OoO

I'm telling Steve about Darry's conversation with Cindy Mathews when her son bounces into the DX. It's one of the first times I've seen Two-Bit in a good mood since his party. I shut up and change conversation.

"You're not outta here yet?" Two-Bit asks, hooking a finger back.

Steve swears as a bolt pops off. I shake my head. Two-Bit points to a window. "Have you seen the sky outside? Blacker than black. Betcha sirens'll be goin' off any time now."

I wipe oily hands on my jeans. "Can you tell Pony—"

"Pony? I ain't seen him at all today. Was I supposed to?"

"Shit, I don't know…he mentioned maybe stopping by and—"

Two-Bit holds up his hands. "Don't kill the messenger, the bearer of bad news, the sultan of swing because boy howdy and cheese and crackers I definitely don't have the slightest where that kid could have gone."

At that moment the radio crackles, something about a tornado watch. Steve's groan can be heard throughout the DX. I wipe my hands on my jeans.

OoO

"Young man, you ought to come down from there."

I let out a low laugh; it's been a while since I've been called a young man.

Finished with the job, I climb down from the roof. An elderly couples stands next to the ladder. The husband, Mr. White says, "Lordy, it's getting a might bad out there."

Taking a look at the sky, I see that's an understatement. Off in the distance the faint tail of a tornado lingers, not yet touching the ground. The wind whips, dust flying.

"I'm afraid we picked a bad day to fix our roof, Walter," the wife says. She tugs at my sleeve. "Come down with us to the cellar before it hits."

"Thank you, ma'am but I really need to get going, my bro—"

Her eyes widen. "You are not driving in this, sonny. You'd be liable get caught up in that. And then where would you be, broken truck and all?"

"Ma'am, I—"

"Come on now, come on inside…"

I'm about to protest, thinking about my brothers, when the tornado siren sounds. Loud and clear across the plain. The skies open up and the rain drenches us. As we run for the house I'm hoping Soda has everything under control before I'm able to get home.

OoO

When I get there I can't do it. I can't ask him. I can't tell him.

The minute he throws open the door his face breaks into a smile. "Ponyboy, son, what're you doin' here? Hell, the weather alone should have kept you—"

I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and giving him a hug. He smells like hay and dirt.

"Whoah," the Cowboy says when I pull away. "What's got you worked up, kid?"

"I'm fine. Just wanted to see you is all."

Cowboy barks out a laugh, sounding pleased. "You're just in time to help me with the horses."

OoO

"God damn it." I stomp across the living room floor.

"He ain't here."

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," Steve snaps at Two-Bit.

I think of where he'd be and swear. The Cowboy's. Steve's already handing me his keys. "Go get him, Sodapop, but Jesus, get your ass back here in a hurry." I shoot a look of thanks to my friend.

I start Steve's truck and back it out of the driveway, tires squealing. The windshield wipers ricochet back and forth. As the hail starts pattering on the hood, something tells me I should have waited this out at home.

"Damn it, Pony, you better be there." Gritting my teeth, I steer the truck up over the highway.

OoO

The barn door flies open, clattering back on its hinges. Thomas and I both jump, the horses in their stalls making nervous noises. Goosey starts barking, pacing back and forth on top of a hay bale. The Cowboy stabs the pitchfork deep into a bale. He squints at the sky beyond the doors. Lightening cuts a jag down the sky. It's only four in the afternoon but could pass for a dark night.

"We'd best go inside, son." He gives me a grin. "Storm cellar might come in handy tonight."

Ice churns deep in my stomach. "I should go home."

"Not tonight," Thomas says, frowning. "You shouldn't go anywhere." He sticks a hand out, touching my back, moving me forward and out of the barn. "Let's go inside. Rita makes a mean hot chocolate."

Goosey chases us out of the barn. I wait as Thomas locks it. Eye the tail of the tornado in the sky and worry.

OoO

I try calling Soda for the fifth time. The DX. Our house. Even Two-Bit's but there's no answer. I slam the receiver down. "Damn it."

"Don't fret, mijo," Rita soothes. "They be okay." She hands me a cup of hot chocolate but I don't touch it.

Thomas stands by the window, chewing on a cigarette. He's smoking in the house. He wipes sweat from his brow, takes off his cowboy hat. The radio's chittering away, the newscaster saying, "No twister-related injuries have been reported, but an insurance office was destroyed in Tillman County, in the southwest part of the state…"

Flick. .

The flame on the lighter goes out. After pouring a glass of an amber colored liquid, Thomas sits beside me at the counter. "That your mama's?" He takes a swig.

"Yeah," I say. "Found it in her things." I shove it back into my pocket, swallowing thickly. "Listen…" I begin. "Listen…I need to talk to you…"

It's not that I want Thomas Mercer to be my father. It's just another person in my life – a father figure – who will go away. When I tell Darry and Soda that he really isn't—Hell, I keep losing the people I care about.

Lights flicker inside the house. Rita turns the teakettle off.

I take a breath. "Look, I didn't want this…but I was beginning to think that…well…maybe you were…"

"Easy, Pony." Thomas pats my leg. "What's goin on with you?"

Groaning, I shove off the stool and walk across the kitchen. My heart's hammering. I really want Darry right now. He'd know what to do. Lights flood the front yard, and squinting, I move to the front door, opening it against the gusting wind and rain, when Goosey suddenly barks and races outside. The Labrador disappears into the storm.

"Goosey!" I shout before chasing after the dog.

OoO

The storm cellar is musty and cramped. Walter and Sadie White are well prepared. A row of canned food, flashlight, and a battery-operated radio make up a few of the items in the cellar. I listen to the news and pace the room, hands in my pockets.

"Darrell, son, you're an anxious one aren't you?" Mrs. White says.

"Yes, ma'am."

Tuning her out, I concentrate on the sound of the whipping wind outside and hail pattering above. I hate this. Not being in control. Not knowing what's going on. I take my toolbelt off, sling it to the ground.

Walter White turns up the radio. "It's a doozy out there. We best settle in for the evening."

Mrs. White starts bringing out blankets and cans of Spam.

All I can think about, worry about, is them.

OoO

"Goosey! Gooooooosey!"

The wind carries my words and breath away. I cup my hands around my mouth and yell for her again. Damn it, I think, feeling responsible for losing her in this storm. It's black out; I squint, making out vague shapes. The corvette by the barn, the gnarled oak tree, the pond, the house in the near distance…

"Goos—" I stop. Listen. There's a dog barking. I move in the direction of the noise, when I hear something else mixed in with the howling wind. A truck rumbling, then the engine dying.

I wipe rain from my face, struggling to stand straight up in the rushing air. It's like trying to move against an industrial fan, making me lean at an odd angle. "Sodapop," I say, seeing a shaded figure cross the front yard. I take a step, intent on going to greet him, when Goosey darts by.

Going the opposite direction, I make a grab for her collar but trip instead, landing near the edge of the pond. The water is full of waves, raindrops making their mark on the surface. The knees of my jeans are soaked and I can't help but laugh when Goosey trots up and licks my cheek. "You're a pain in my ass, you know?" I say, gripping her collar and pulling myself up. She sits in the mud, wags her tail.

Lightning flashes, close by, my ears practically ringing from the reverberation. There's a loud crack, like something snapping in half and then it looks like the large oak tree is moving toward me. Surprised, I blink.

The pain in my temple is sudden and bright.

OoO

"He here?"

Thomas Mercer has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his Wranglers. "Oh, he's here all right. Shook up about something." He lets me into the house.

"What happened?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe you can get him to talk."

"I can." I glance around the house, anxious to get my brother and get the hell home. Wondering if it's some plan of Ponyboy's or the weather to force me and the Cowboy into contact. "Where is he?"

"Ponyboy went to get Goosey…damn dog ran out on—"

"Fine," I interrupt. "I'll wait."

The Cowboy gives me a look. "You don't like me much do you, Sodapop?"

"I don't. But hopefully I won't have to put up with you much longer."

It's not much, but it's enough to rub it in.

Startled, Thomas Mercer frowns. After a long silence he crosses the room, going to the window. "I don't blame you, kid...but for Pony's sake we should try to get along."

I shake my head. "Mister, you got another thing comin' if you think you're—"

"Now what's she barking at…?" Tearing his gaze away from me, the Cowboy's frown deepens as frantic barks begin to float in from outside. Boots clacking on the wood floor, he opens the back door. "Goosey!" Lightning flashes. "What're you—oh Jesus…"

With that, Thomas runs into the backyard. After a moment, he shouts for me and I chase after him into the rain and thrashing wind. I can barely see anything in the dark light; I scour what's in front of me and then a burst of lightning lights up the backyard.

Thomas is waist-deep in the pond and just when I think it's a pretty shitty time to go swimming, I see what's bobbing on the surface. The Cowboy reaches for the body, grasping a thin, white arm.

I rush the lake, barreling in until I'm up to my knees. Goosey keeps barking, the sound an alarm bell in my ears and I pray to god it's not him. But the way my heart drops before I see him tells me it is. The Cowboy flips the body over and pulls it against his chest. He fights against the chopping, rolling water and begins to make his way back.

I scramble back up on the bank, watch in horror as the Cowboy lifts Ponyboy out. It's my brother; it's my goddamn little brother. His eyes are closed, head lolled back over the Cowboy's arm, limbs dangling like limp pieces of spaghetti.

Thomas lays him on the bank. I fall to his side. The order's sharp but panicked. "Soda, you do CPR while I start chest compressions."

I dip my face, resting a hand on Pony's chin to tilt it back. With each pump and each breath I feel my life falling away. Every second his eyes stay closed I think I'm going to lose it. I begin to shake. We work for 15 minutes in the roaring wind and freezing rain and there's nothing. Still nothing.

Tornado sirens begin to ring in the distance.

Thomas Mercer is still pounding his chest.

I brush Ponyboy's hair from his face. Even in the pitch dark I can see he's not breathing. "Goddamnit, honey, please don't do this." I wipe my face, between the rain and the tears, I can barely see anything.

I dip low, across his body, feeling like I'm going to combust. "Christ, please…"

"C'mon," the Cowboy mutters. "C'mon." He rolls Ponyboy onto his side where bile and foam begin to slowly spill out of his mouth like water from a garden hose. But he doesn't cough. He doesn't make much movement at all.

A warmth spreads behind my eyes. Red flares. "No!" I shout. "Don't you die on me, Ponyboy. Don't you dare!"

"Ponyboy!" The Cowboy shouts, an echo of my own warning. "Goddamn breathe!" He pounds Pony's back hard, one, two, three times, and just like that my brother gives a tiny jerk and begins to weakly cough.

I utter a moan, disbelieving. I smooth Pony's hair back, and abruptly feel a knot on the back of his skull, my hand coming away silky wet.

"Thatta boy," Cowboy says. "Thatta boy."

Thomas Mercer scoops Pony up in his arms and we bolt for the house.

OoO

It's chaos.

Kicking the front door open, Rita starts wailing in Spanish, shouting mijo, and trying to get a good look at my brother. Thomas lays Pony on the couch, his head lolling to the side. I take his chin and give it a shake. His face is clammy, like I'm resting a hand against an icy Coke bottle.

"We gotta get him to the hospital."

"Phone lines are down," Rita sniffles.

"I'll take him then," Thomas says.

"No, Tomas, no, the sirens are going off. It's not safe out there. You cannot drive."

"We have to do something," I say, panic creeping into my gut. "I'll goddamn take him; we can't just leave him like this." I'm beginning to shake as I reach out and wipe my brother's face free of the matted hair. His face burns my hand. Damn it Ponyboy, wake the hell up right now.

"No, no, no," Rita says.

"I'm taking him, Rita. You," Thomas says as I stand, placing a hand against my chest. "Stay here."

"Are you crazy? I'm co—"

"Stay with Rita. It's bad out there. Really bad. I have to take Pony, but Sodapop, for your mama, you gotta stay safe. So sit down and shut the hell up." He squints in the dim light. "Okay, kid? You can come when it calms down."

Dipping, Thomas scoops up my brother once again and is out the door before anyone can protest. The room swirls. I sink onto the couch; bury my head in my hands.

OoO

Pardon typos.

As always, thank you for reading. Reviews would be amazing. And I'll update this Sunday, so you'll get two for one.

XO,

Feisty