Four Days Until Dawn

Installment 4

Dreariness

XXX

Dawn broke. For the most part, any sleep the three of them got had been restless. Sodapop managed the most, but it wasn't restful. A few hours had passed but he still felt whipped when his eyes opened. Without stopping to pee, he went directly to his room to see for himself that his younger brother really was home.

The armchair was empty but the bed was not. There, laying still against pillows outlining his frame, was Ponyboy. His color was still off, unnaturally pale; his bleached hair not helping the pallor any. One of his arms lay outside the blankets, resting palm down, fingers slightly bent at each joint. Carefully, Soda lay down beside him, wrapping his arm over the younger brother's chest, feeling its rise and fall; the motion comforting somehow. It wasn't a dream. He really was home.

The moment would not last long, he had to get up and leave for the day. His job demanded his return or receive a pink slip. The boss had been as understanding as he could be, but the missing brother had returned and now he had to go back to work. Darry was in the kitchen already working on breakfast, the sound of pots and pans being shuffled in the cabinet echoing down the hall.

"I'm here, Pone. I'm here," Soda whispered, procrastinating a bit longer as he lay still against the younger boy's frame. He felt the skin beneath his arm as he rested his hand over the rhythmical beat, giving him assurance that life existed. It seemed unusually fast, and he paused to take a closer look. A moment later, he got up and headed into the kitchen.

"He's hot again," Soda mumbled, leaving normal greetings for later.

"I've got the stuff ready." Darry turned the heat down from under the pans and headed off to the bedroom, Soda following. He held his brother up while Darry carefully gave the slurry, and was about to lay Ponyboy back on the pillows when Darry picked up a cup and drew something else into the syringe.

"What's that?"

"Soup. It's been days since he's had anything to eat. I just want to try, see if I can't get anything in him."

The warm broth from the vegetable beef soup was slowly squirted into his mouth in the same manner as the medicine. Darry felt some relief, glad he was finally getting something nutritional into his brother's system. Three syringe fills later, however, instead of swallowing - Ponyboy suddenly clenched. They each felt his frame lock up, shaking. A fit of coughing sent the last of the soup from his mouth. Darry was once again ready with a towel, just in case.

"No!" Ponyboy said suddenly. They thought he was awake.

"Pony, you gotta eat. C'mon, just a little more." Soda implored.

Ponyboy twisted in protest, Soda laid him down. "No baloney," the boy mumbled as he rooted deeper into the sheets. "No baloney." Throughout, his eyes never opened. Soda looked at Darry, confused. Darry had no answers. He pulled the covers up and took the cup and the syringe back to the kitchen to wash. A moment later, Soda followed.

"I should stay," he thought out loud.

"Go. I got it." Darry tiredly answered.

"Darry..." Soda protested.

"Go. Tomorrow will be your turn. I got it, now go. I'll call you if there are any changes."

Soda hesitated, then turned to leave. If he stayed to argue longer; an argument he knew he'd lose anyway, he'd only miss his bus.

XXX

"Johnny didn't mean it!" ... "No! He didn't mean it!..."

Darry told their social worker he'd have to call her back, then hustled to the bedroom to calm Ponyboy down. Alone, it wasn't as easy. For such a small kid, weak and thin, he put up a good fight. Darry was doing all he could to cradle Ponyboy's upper body in his arms, lest his head get dinged on some piece of furniture. That meant that his legs were free to kick and thrash about. A bucking bronco couldn't be harder to control.

"Johnny... No!" fists swung out, striking at enemies unseen. Darry ignored the multiple contacts the blows made. The guys left worse marks during their wrestling matches with each other.

"Easy Ponyboy, easy."

Darry's strong arms held the boy tightly, rocking him back and forth until the protests withered away. Even after the silence and calm returned, Darry continued to sway gently. Rain pattered the window pane, the effect usually calming, but not settling the boy at all. It only added to Darry's frustrations.

The social worker had been the one to call Darry. There was trouble looming on the horizon.

"Now that Ponyboy has returned, there is a hearing scheduled so that these events can be heard by the courts."

"This was an accident … all he did wrong was run away! They nearly drowned him, and yet you're telling me he's going to be put on the stand to testify as to why he's alive?" Darry was indignant.

"Darrel, we need to know what happened. Bob Sheldon's life ended that night, your brother is the only one who can tell us why."

"There were other kids there. Ask them!" His patience was evaporating. Police reports were already on file. The Soc's involved had each - on their own volition – gone in to unload on paper their parts of this sick tale to the authorities. They all said the same thing.. the kid, Ponyboy, was face first in the fountain while his buddy, Johnny, did a Jack The Ripper on Bob the Bully. It was cut and dry, no pun intended.

His brother wasn't even awake yet, how could he answer anything? And besides that, Darry had the feeling nothing Ponyboy'd say would matter. Greasers got no breaks. He was certain that when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, they would still take Sodapop and Ponyboy away.

A searing knowledge burned at Darry's core. Nothing could dispel the fact that at the root of it, he was still the one who had caused all this in the first place. Knocked over the first domino in this string of events. He'd hit his brother, which went against every rule CPS has for guardian behavior towards their trustees. Even when that trustee was an often-times irritating 14 year old kid who'd gone out of his way to push all his oldest brothers buttons that night. Provided no one went to jail, he'd be lucky to see them again when they each turned 18 - if they even wanted to see him again.

It ate at him. Guilt. Tore him up all the way to his soul. He didn't have time for the pity party he so longed to have, Pony was screaming and Darry had to go. He hung up without the usual pleasantries and went to Pony's bedside.

Now with his youngest brother calm again, he laid him back down, settled the blankets over him and leaned back in his chair. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

XXX

"How'd it go?" Soda asked, his shoes discarded in a corner as he stripped off his oil stained shirt.

"Same as it was yesterday. He had a few outbursts, saying something about Johnny. He hasn't needed anymore Tylenol, so that's good."

Soda leaned in close to his sleeping brother, breathing in long and deep. Darry sat up, his face still filled with concern.

"You look beat. Have you been in here the whole day?"

Darry shook his head. "No. I did some laundry. Washed the dishes. Had a talk with our social worker. You know, the usual." Sarcasm was not his forte.

"Social worker? What'd she want?"

Darry squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, seeing stars when he opened them again. "Pony's got to testify about this. Eventually. They've set the court date, but I don't know if he'll be ready for it by then."

Soda had a sinking feeling. He didn't trust courts, lawyers or social workers. Anyone of authority spooked him. They did well enough on their own, why couldn't bureaucrats just leave them alone?

"And if he ain't?"

Darry simply stared. He had no answer for that. He was only twenty... where was it written he was supposed to know everything, have all the answers?

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Darry got up, leaving Soda and Ponyboy alone for a bit. He needed to get out of the house. The rain had slowed to a steady, pointless drizzle. It was cold outside, frigid - but not cold enough to snow. He stepped outside, feeling the mist waft over him, dampening his skin.

On a day like this not long ago in his past, he was out on the football field, throwing passes and running plays. Crowds cheered. His parents waved. His brothers smiled as they stomped their feet on the bleachers to get feeling back in their frozen toes. His buddies were there, ogling cheerleaders and picking up dates in the stands – promises of meeting him being their bribe.

Now here he was, only twenty but feeling years - if not decades older. Happiness seemed only a distant memory.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose