Things returned to some degree of normalcy once all of the court stuff was done with. Normalcy, however, did not necessarily imply that all was sunshine and roses at home. Darry was working all the time, trying to make up for all the time he had missed while Pony and I were gone and in the hospital, as well as the days we had court. Soda moped around the house when he wasn't at work, not saying anything but I knew he was missing Sandy, and Ponyboy just closed himself in his room most of the time he was home, except when he was fighting with Darry about any number of things, among them chores, homework, track, and just about anything else the two of them could come up with. It almost seemed like since Pony knew there was no way Darry would ever hit him again, he was pushing his frustration level as far as he could to see what would happen if he snapped again.

I didn't like it, and everybody being so miserable was only making me miserable too, so I spent a whole lot of time outside or with Ben, at his house. Soda and Steve had brought some old junk car home that they were fixing up in the side yard in their spare time, and I spent some time out there with him, just sitting inside it with the radio on, talking to him while he worked under the hood. Only when Steve wasn't around, though.

A week or so later, just before dinner, I was sitting in the car talking to Soda. Pony was cooking and apparently didn't like some advice that Darry was trying to give him, because their voices through the window got progressively louder until, finally, they were screaming at each other. Pony and I still argued quite a bit, but our fights generally lacked the dramatic flair and extreme noise level that marked his quarrels with Darry. Besides the yelling, there were pots banging in the kitchen, as well.

"You think they're ever gonna stop this nonsense?" I asked.

"I sure hope so," Soda said, as I heard him tightening something and swearing at it for not wanting to go in right.

"What is it about those two? You and I don't fight like that with either of them."

"I know it," he said, slamming the hood down and coming around to the driver's side window and leaning in. "The main thing is, those two talk and talk at each other, but neither one's listening, really. That's how I see it, anyway."

Soda was generally not the most insightful person in our family, but I think he had pretty much hit the nail on the head with this one. It was pretty clear that he had been thinking about it quite a bit.

"I think Pony's being kind of a jerk, if you ask me," I said. "Darry is working his butt off, and the last thing he needs is Pony yelling at him every second he's home." I, for one, felt really bad about Darry working so much. I wanted him back in college, doing what twenty year olds were supposed to do, not working his fingers to the bone, day in and day out, trying to put food on the table for his kid brothers and sister. I tried to be as helpful as I could around the house, but, unfortunately, had no way of contributing anything financially.

"He's not doing it on purpose, Scout. He just takes what Darry says the wrong way, a lot of the time. He's trying to make Darry proud but he's always feeling like Darry's telling him he's not good enough, when actually all Darry's trying to do is make sure Pony is reaching his full potential."

"You know, Soda," I said, "You're a pretty smart guy."

"Yeah, right. That's why I dropped out," he said.

"You know what I mean," I said. "You're smart about people. You always know what people want. You can cheer up anybody. You're just a good person, Soda. I don't know anyone else who is always good to everyone like you are." It's too bad your best friend is just plain mean, I added, privately.

Soda smiled sadly at me. "Thanks. I wish everybody felt the same way as you do." He opened the door and came in and sat in the driver's seat. I could still hear Darry and Pony yelling at each other in the kitchen. He leaned his head forward on the steering wheel and sighed. I had never seen Soda as unhappy as he had been since Sandy left. He was trying his best to put on a good game face, but it was clear that, underneath it, he was miserable.

"I don't know why she would leave you, Soda. You were real good to her."

"Not good enough, I guess," he said, speaking down through the steering wheel.

What he said next shocked me.

"She's pregnant, Scout. That's why she left."

"Oh my God," I said, then immediately wished I hadn't; realizing that might not have been the most sympathetic sounding response I could have offered. I knew that Soda had been sleeping with Sandy, I had once eavesdropped on him getting a lecture from Darry that he had better be being careful about it. I didn't understand why she took off, though. I would think she'd want Soda to take some of the responsibility. And he would have, I knew that for sure.

"But, why…" I started.

"She says it's not mine," he interrupted me, softly.

"Is it?"

"I don't know why she would lie about it, Scout. I said I would marry her anyway. I didn't care. I loved her anyway. But she wouldn't say anything, she wouldn't tell me who… or why. Nothing. She just left."

"I am so sorry, Soda. I really am." He was crying softly. Again, I was in a situation where I had absolutely no idea what to say to one of my brothers who needed comforting. I just reached over and put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. I couldn't hug him, he was still leaning forward over the steering wheel.

"Did you tell Pony?" I knew Pony was a better comfort than I was, for him.

"No. But Darry knows. Don't tell him, 'kay, Scout? He's finally done with court, he's still upset about Johnny and Dallas; I don't want him worrying about me on top of that. He just needs to get back to normal."

"I wish this stupid fighting wasn't part of normal for him," I said, listening to the yelling, which still continued, but had died down considerably.

"No kidding," Soda said warily. I glanced out the window and happened to see Tim Shepard parking his car out in front of our house.

"What's Tim Shepard doing here?" I asked Soda, and he picked his head up, finally, off the steering wheel and looked up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"I don't know," he said, "but I guess we're gonna find out. C'mon, it's probably just about dinnertime anyway, if those two managed to get any cookin' done with all that fightin' goin' on." He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I was glad to see Ponyboy leaning against the porch railing smoking; it might have been a little embarrassing for Darry if Tim walked in on the full brunt of World War three between him and his kid brother.

"Shepard's inside," Pony said.

"Yeah, we saw that," Soda said. "What's that all about?"

"I don't know, he just said he wanted to talk to Darry alone. I don't care, I was coming out here anyway. Darry was all over me about how I wasn't using a big enough pot for the chicken stew."

Oh, so that was it. Well, that was certainly worth fifteen minutes of yelling. Soda and I just looked at each other like we wanted to grab him by the neck and shake some sense into him. Instead we just flopped down on the porch couch and sat there silently. I couldn't believe what Soda had told me, about Sandy. I was realizing I hated her, for cheating on him, for hurting him like that. Two-Bit might deserve to get cheated on, what with the way he treated girls, and even Steve, considering how he treated most people, but not Soda.

"You guys get in here," Darry called, startling me. "Dinner's ready."

Pony threw his cigarette off the porch and Soda and I followed him inside. Tim was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning back in his chair, his hands locked behind his head. I guess he was staying for dinner.

"Hey kids," he said as we sat down, "I see y'all managed to not lose your big brother for a whole week since I last saw you."

"Hey, Tim," Soda said, sounding cheerful but I could still hear the tinge of sadness in his voice. "What brings you here?"

"Been some trouble over by the tracks the last couple o' days. Just lettin' your brother know what's going on, so's he can keep you three away from there and outta trouble."

I almost laughed. It was gonna take an Act of Congress and a personal escort from the police for Darry to let me out of my own yard alone, much less all the way down by there.

"Oh yeah? What happened?" Soda asked, taking a huge helping of stew. He always loved to hear about fights.

"Just some guys from Brumley gettin' cocky and trying to widen their territory. Guess they figured with Winston out of the picture, the boys in my outfit wouldn't have any support from his friends anymore. When word got out around Buck's about what was goin' on, all kinds of friends Dally didn't even know he had crawled outta the woodwork and kicked those Brumley bastards right back into their own neighborhood. Now they're out for revenge. Two of my guys got worked up real good down by the crossing at Wilcox and Broad."

Soda was already on his second helping by the time Tim finished. I guess the situation with Sandy hadn't hurt his appetite any. I looked to see how Pony had reacted to Tim mentioning Dallas; he was just staring down at his plate. It occurred to me that the only reason Tim had come to talk to Darry about this is because Dally was no longer around to keep him updated about the gang activity going on.

"So, Sodapop, that means you don't leave this house or work and go out anywhere by your lonesome. I mean it. Just 'cause you're bigger than these two doesn't mean you're any safer if they come at you in a group," Darry said. "As for you two," he pointed his chin at Pony and me, "you know the rules. Everybody finally just got out of trouble, the last thing I need is one of you gettin' back into it."

"We won't," I said. I was pretty sure Pony wasn't looking for more trouble any more than I was.

"I knew you Curtis kids were smart," Tim said. Just then, right on time to invite himself over for dinner, Two-Bit came in the front door.

"Hi honey, I'm home," he announced, coming into the kitchen and stopping short when he saw Tim.

"Well, if it ain't Mr. Timothy Shepard, flesh and blood, right here in the Curtis kitchen. To what do we owe this honor?" Two-Bit bowed at Tim, then went into the cupboard and got himself a plate, filled it with stew, grabbed a piece of bread and stood against the counter eating it.

"Well, Mathews, you can be pretty damned sure it wasn't to listen to your dumb-ass nonsense," Tim said. His voice never registered emotion. I swear, Tim Shepard could be telling you he just murdered your mother in cold blood and it would still have that smooth, even tone. I couldn't imagine ever hearing him yell; though, if he ever did, I was pretty sure I wouldn't want to be anywhere nearby.

"Aw, c'mon now, Timothy, y'all ain't got to be mean." Two-Bit pretended that his feelings had been hurt.

Tim just ignored him, which was often the best thing to do when it came to getting him to shut up.

"We've had trouble over in my neighborhood the past few nights. Just putting the word out that y'all should be watchin' your backs."

"That right? Well, luckily, I just got myself a new best friend." Two-Bit reached around into his back pocket and flipped out a switchblade. He had lost his old one the night Dallas died- I guess Dally had it in his pocket and the cops took it. He hadn't stopped lamenting about it since.

"Two-Bit, don't you ever pull that out in this house again." Darry got mad whenever anybody took out their weapons in the house. It was just asking for trouble, he said.

"Where'd you get that?" Soda asked, as Two-Bit closed it and put it back in his pocket.

"I know people," he said. "I got other friends besides y'all, you know."

"Yeah, we know, you just like our cooking the best," Darry said, smacking him in the gut as Two-Bit helped himself to more stew.

"Well, I guess my work here is done," Tim said, pushing back his chair and standing up. Y'all take care. I don't wanna be hearin' about any of you gettin' your asses kicked just for bein' stupid. That goes double for you, Mathews." Two-Bit was a real good fighter, but tended to lose a great deal of his common sense when he had been drinking.

"Seeya, kids," he said to no one in particular. And with that, Tim was gone.

We finished up dinner, and Darry got up to do the dishes, but Two-Bit stopped him.

"Don't worry, Dar, I'll get 'em." He usually was pretty good about helping out, especially when he knew it was Darry's turn. I'm sure he was thinking the same thing I was; that he already worked too hard. Not that Two-Bit actually had any idea what that was like.

"Scout, Pony, you two get on homework," Darry said, bringing the dirty dishes over to Two-Bit at the sink.

"I'm done," Pony said.

"Did you have math?"

"Yes."

"Let me see it, then." Darry had stopped checking both Pony's and my writing, realizing that we both probably wrote better than he did, but he still always checked our math. I didn't mind, because I always had some wrong, but it annoyed Ponyboy to no end.

Ponyboy stomped back to his room. I ran in and grabbed my math and gave it to Darry first, hoping if I had more wrong than Pony did he wouldn't get so mad. I watched as he circled five problems I had wrong, and I sat down next to him at the table to redo them. Pony only had one wrong and thankfully, he didn't complain about having to fix it. I knew that neither Soda nor I wanted to listen to any more of their bickering.

I went back into my room and finished the rest of my homework , then just lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, still trying to digest what Soda had told me earlier. Pony was holed up in his room, as usual, and, after Two-Bit had left, I could hear Darry and Soda talking softly in the kitchen, though I couldn't make out what it was about. Finally Soda went into the living room and turned on the television. Darry passed by my door on the way to the bathroom and noticed me, just lying there, through the crack in the door. He peeked his head in the crack.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said. "You can come in."

He came in and sat on the end of my bed. "Homework finished?"

"Yup."

"So what are you doing?"

"Just thinking. Soda told me… about Sandy."

"He did?" Darry sounded surprised.

"Why would she do that to him? He was good to her."

"I don't know." Something in the way he answered told me that he was real angry with her, too, for hurting Soda so much. "Relationships like that can get real complicated. Just be glad you don't have to deal with that stuff yet."

"I guess."

"Scout, I know you've had to deal with a lot of stuff most kids your age haven't, and I know in a lot of ways you've had to grow up fast. But you don't need to be in any hurry to be an adult."

"I know, Darry. I'm not."

"Soda said you were asking him about kissing." Oh, so that's where this all was coming from.

"I was just asking," I said. "I'm already two years older than Soda was when he kissed someone, anyway."

"I'm not sure Soda should be the one setting the standard for something like that."

"Well, fine, he said he caught you making out with some girl in the lot when you were my age. Are you the standard?"

"I doubt it," he laughed. "It's just strange, seeing you grow up. I still think of you as that little pink bundle Mom and Dad brought home from the hospital. Now you're talking about kissing."

"That was a long time ago, Darry. I'm gonna grow up whether either one of us likes it or not."

"I guess so," he admitted. "I hope I can survive it," he added.

"Me too," I said.

He stood up. "You wanna come watch TV with us?"

"No," I said, "I think I'm just gonna go to bed. I'm tired."

"That doesn't sound like a half-bad idea," he answered. "'Night, then."

"'Night, Darry."

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A/N: I'll try to keep up with the frequent updating but sadly, I have to go back to work tomorrow! In reality, I don't get to be Scout, I have to be Darry, and shoot, if I don't pay the bills, nobody will! As always, I love your reviews!