AN: Yes, another short chapter (despite requests). I am so sorry, Kats and Kittens. This is all I can shell out at the moment. College has a way of wearing one down quite a bit. But I certainly hope you enjoy it anyway. I promise, the next chapter will be longer. Really, I do!

Chapter Eight:

Steve's trial is next week. Mine is a few days before. It's strange, thinking I might not be around to see Steve's trial, knowing that he won't be around to see mine. That damn woman, Miss Spenster, is going to speak at them both. She'll testify against Steve, say she witnessed the beating he gave me. And she'll tell the judge why my brother is incapable of taking care of me and Soda. She'll tell him to take us away from Darry and to stick us in some home where we can be taken care of "properly."

I really wish she'd get hit by a bus.

"Ponyboy, everything's going to be fine," Soda says gently, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to him from my position in the hospital bed and stare at him with furrowed eyebrows and pouting lips. He winces, averting his gaze from the bruise around my eye. It isn't so bad anymore. Not as purple as it used to be, anyway. Mostly just an ugly brown and yellow color. And it don't hurt none.

"She'll win," I tell him absently, not really meaning to say the words out loud but backing them up as they leave my lips. "She'll take us away from Darry. She'll send Steve away to jail. She'll win, and she'll do it with a big, fat smile on her face."

"Don't think like that, Pony," my brother sighs, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "She's . . . She's just doing what she thinks is right. But the judge will figure it out. He'll know you and I are better off with Darry, and Steve . . . He'll be fine. It was an accident, and the judge'll see that too. No one's going anywhere."

My gaze falls back to the hospital-issue blanket covering my lean form. I've lost too much weight. Coach'll never let me run this season.

"Hey, now, what's with these sad faces, huh?"

Soda and I turn, finding Two-Bit leaning in the doorway, a wide smile slicked across his lips like he's got a dirty little secret. And he always does. He pushes off the door frame and struts into the room, whistling as he looks around.

"Nice digs, kid," he laughs. Soda and I can tell it's forced, but we don't say anything, smiling back as best we can.

"Hey, Two-Bit, what'cha been up to?" I ask, sitting up a little more in the bed. Soda looks a little worried at my shifting, but I ignore it.

"Oh, you know. This and that," the older boy smirks, throwing a Mickey Mouse key chain onto the blanket near my hands. "Swiped you something from the gift shop." He winks.

"Yea, but these were bought and paid for," someone says from the door, and we all look back to find Johnny and Dally, a vase of assorted flowers clutched tightly in the younger boy's hands.

"Wow." My smile grows wider, stretched so thin I think my lips might split open. "Thanks, Johnny!" Dally grabs the vase from Johnny's hands and walks into the room, placing them on the table next to my bed roughly. A smoldering cigarette hangs languidly from his lips, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling.

"Wasn't just the twerp that pitched in," he mutters, waggling his eyebrows at me, and I smile shyly. It isn't everyday that Dally does something for someone else.

"You too, Dal. Thanks."

"No problem," he shrugs, finding another chair and plopping down into it. "You, uh, got any hot nurses?" I shrug, blushing a bit.

"Are you kiddin'?" Soda laughs. "He's got them gals swoonin' over him day and night. They pop in just to say hello!"

"Damn, Pony, you got it real good in here," Two-Bit crows. "I'd sure like a whole lot a women fussin' over me like that. Shoot!"

"Yea, Two-Bit, you'd feel right at home, wouldn't you?" Johnny teases, sidling up next to him, and the older put his arm around his shoulders before shifting him into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles against the top of his head. "Hey! Two-Bit, lay off, would ya?" The banter continues for a while, and I sit quietly, watching my friends try to act normal.

But it all comes crashing down in an instant as I say, "I sure wish Steve was here."

They all stop what they're doing, the smiles falling from their faces as they turn to look at me. There's an awkward silence, and I almost wish I hadn't mentioned it when Johnny finally speaks up.

"Me too, Pony."

"Yea."

"Sure do."

The rest of them agree, Dally with only a curt nod of his head. I sigh and rest back against my pillows some, closing my eyes for a moment as the tears hiding behind them fight their way to the surface.

"It shouldn't . . . It shouldn't be like this," I say, my voice husky. A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it, but it stubbornly stays put, causing the tears to finally push forward and stream down my face. "We shouldn't have to go to a home that isn't ours. And Steve shouldn't b-be . . ." I cover my face with my hands, trying to hold the sobs in, but they find their way out. Soda stands, curling his arms around me, and I bury myself in his chest, clutching his shirt between my tear-stained fingers.

0 o 0 o 0

Five Days Later:

"Soda, you seen my tie? I coulda sworn . . ." Darry's voice dwindles off into muffled tones as he disappears into his closet, digging through the wrinkled clothes at the bottom. Soda walks in, Darry's tie in hand, and gives it to him.

"It was on the ironing board," he comments dryly, his face solemn and devoid of any real emotion.

I watch them both from Darry's bed, my legs crossed, my elbows resting on my knees, and my chin in my left hand. They seem more nervous than I am. I wish they wouldn't be. It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about this stupid trial.

"Pony, don't sit like that. You'll wrinkle your pants," Soda chides softly, holding his hand out to help me off the bed. I sigh and take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. He messes with my shirt a bit, tugging at it, and straightens my collar a few too many times. I finally have to swat his hands away.

"My shirt's fine, Soda," I say quietly. No one's really being all that loud this morning. In fact, no one's really been all that loud since last night. All week, we've been acting like things are normal, trying to keep our minds off the trial and what might happen if Miss Spenster gets her way. But last night, it hit us. Right in the middle of dinner, Darry dropped his fork and started crying and saying things like "What am I gonna do without you guys?" and "Why did this have to happen to us?"

It's true, I guess. There are worse families out there that kids should probably be taken away from. But ours isn't one of them.

When we're all ready to go, we sit in the living room, waiting until it's time to leave. The televison's on, but none of us are watching it. We're staring at the clock, watching the seconds tick away. These could be our last seconds sitting together in this living room, our last seconds as a family. I shake the thought from my mind, trying to think about what the trial will be like. Will there be a jury? A dozen people sitting and staring at me while I try to convince them why I should stay with my brothers?

"I won't be able to lie," I comment thoughtfully, making them both turn to me. "I'll have to tell them who hit me." A worried look takes my face as I turn to Soda. "I don't want to. I don't want to give them a reason to take me away."

Soda links his hand with mine and offers a shaky smile. "You gotta tell the truth, Ponyboy. You can't lie against the bible."

Darry nods in agreement. "Just tell the truth, little buddy. Can't nobody get hurt if you just tell the truth."

It's time to leave. My stomach turns, making me nauseous, as we file out the door and into Darry's truck. I sit in the middle, my designated spot whenever we all go out together, and revel in their closeness. Could this be my last ride between the two of them? I lean my head on Darry's shoulder, interlocking my fingers with Soda's. The ride is quiet and short-lived. Too soon, we're at the courthouse, walking up the steps and into the building that will seal our fate as a family.

I stare gloomily up at the stone structure and the gray clouds hanging overhead. It's not cold, but it's chilly enough that the courtroom won't be hot as all hell. At least there's that. The building seems to look down at me, glaring into my wide, frightened eyes, and I wish I could hide behind Darry, squeeze my eyes shut and wish it was all a dream. But I swallow and stand tall. I won't let this place feel my fear.

My feet get heavier and heavier as we approach the front doors, and I take deep breaths to keep myself from hyperventilating. This is it. This is where everything we've been through comes to terms. This is where we will stand. This is where we will fall. And as Darry opens the door and ushers me through to the darkness within, a feeling of dread bubbles in the pit of my stomach.

We'll never get out of here.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

It just seemed right to end it this way. Sorry! I know, I'm a horrible person, what with all my cliffies. Until next time, Kats and Kittens. Later, Gators! Catch you on the flip side. :)