Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 19

It was a cold, but beautiful day. The sun was bright, brighter than it had been in days. The sky was so blue that it seemed fake - like an artist had painted it, dotting it with whimsical white clouds that looked like something from a storybook. To Pony, that seemed fitting; it reminded him of his mother. Every memory of his mother was filled with bright, vibrant colors - like a world trapped between reality and fantasy.

He was glad that today of all days was one his mother would have loved, that both his parents would have loved it. It made remembering easier, less painful. The tears still came, he didn't know if this day would ever be met without its share of tears. He doubted it.

It was an early morning for the Curtis brothers. It was a Saturday, so Pony didn't have school, but both Soda and Darry had to get to work. They could have waited until later, but somehow that didn't seem right. The day had to start with this, not end with it.

The sun rose as they drove along the almost empty roads. The sky was bathed with pale washes of color, an artist's paintbrush bringing beauty to the roughest of neighborhoods. Pony thought of Windrixville and the sunrise he and Johnny watched. This one was just as beautiful, but different. That one had been golden and warm, this one was cool and peaceful.

The cemetery was empty and still, almost serene. He'd come here a couple of times on his own - talking to his parents, sharing his hopes and fears. Telling them things he'd wish he'd told them when they were alive. Today, he'd realized how much easier it was to talk to them when he was alone. Here, in front of his brothers, he felt uncomfortable and the words caught in his throat. Soda and Darry were silent, too, and he wondered if they felt the same way.

So there they all stood, quiet and stoic. Well, at first. Soon, Soda was silently crying and Pony felt his own tears well up as he comforted his brother. Darry, of course, didn't cry. His face remained stony and cold, but Pony saw a softness in his eyes that he hadn't noticed before. They stayed like that as the sun rose higher in the sky, taking the edge off the frigid air.

Darry looked at his watch and turned to his brothers. "Well, it's time we got goin'." He started walking away from the graves but stopped for a moment and then tossed his keys to Sodapop. "You guys head back and start the truck, get it heated up. I'll be down in a second."

Soda threw his arm over Ponyboy's shoulders, leading him down the hill toward the road. "Come on, kiddo. Let's give Darry a minute alone."

Darry knelt in front of the pair of headstones, glancing behind him to make sure he was alone. He started talking hesitantly, feeling extremely self-conscious and a little awkward.

"Gosh, I miss you guys so much." He found that once he started it became easier to talk to them. His unease was forgotten and the words came tumbling out.

"I'm trying to do right by you, we all are. I find myself constantly asking myself how you guys would have handled stuff, and trust me, there's been a lot of stuff to handle. And I know I've gotten a lot of things wrong - fought with Pony when I should have stopped and listened to him." Darry shook his head and gave a shaky laugh.

"Oh man, Pony. I hope I'm not screwing him up permanently, it's just so tough. He pushes and pushes and I don't even think he realizes he does it. It's like he's testing me or something . Well, I keep pushing back and sometimes I think he hates me. I keep telling myself: 'Only four more years and Pony'll be an adult.' Only four more years … but it won't end there, will it?" Darry smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Ya know what? I'm glad that it won't end there. All three of us will always be there for each other, I want you guys to know that. We'll never be alone." He brushed a leaf off his mother's headstone as he stood slowly. "I just … I hope we're making you proud," he said, his voice catching unexpectedly. Clearing his throat, he turned and made his way down the hill to join his waiting brothers.

Once in the car, they still had a bit of a ride ahead of them. Darry was dropping Pony off at the hospital. Johnny was being released today and Pony had volunteered to help Sarah get his stuff together and get him settled with his new foster parents. Ponyboy thought it was fitting that the day that he lost part of his family was the day Johnny would find one. He hoped everything would work out for his friend.

When they had gotten in the truck, Ponyboy had turned on the radio. Darry soon turned it off, growing uncomfortable listening to cheery pop tunes moments after visiting their parents. Pony tried small talk, but Darry only felt like giving one word answers and Soda didn't seem to want to say anything.

Enveloped in silence, Darry glanced over toward the passenger side window and his unnaturally mute middle brother. "You okay over there, little buddy? You're awfully quiet."

Soda sighed heavily and leaned his head back, looking up at the sky through the back window as the truck made its way through the familiar streets. "Yeah. I was just thinkin'," he said sadly. "I can't believe it's been a year."

"I know," Darry said.

"And then I can't decide if I can't believe it because it feels like it's been longer or if it feels like it's been shorter. Somehow, it feels like both and that doesn't make any sense." Soda quickly brushed at the tears that were forming in his eyes. He'd already done enough bawling at the cemetery, he scolded himself.

"A year …" Pony said quietly, almost a whisper. Not another word was spoken the rest of the trip.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Pony asked while he sat on the hospital bed, watching as Sarah gathered all of the stuff that had piled up in Johnny's room in the past couple of months.

"Well …" Johnny began, but Sarah interrupted him.

"That's a wonderful idea, Ponyboy, but it's probably best if Johnny met them on his own." She said it nicely, but Pony knew she meant it in the adult way of telling you what to do without really telling you what to do. It was a technique Darry was quickly becoming a master at.

"She's right," Johnny said, although he looked miserable. Nerves were always Johnny's undoing and right now it looked like they were stretched to their breaking point. If he wasn't confined to that chair, he'd be up and pacing and probably smoking like a fiend. Ponyboy hoped that after today Johnny would finally feel settled and safe and begin to heal. Ponyboy couldn't blame him for being scared, he had his share of worry over being taken away from Darry and getting placed in a situation out of his control.

He was relieved Johnny was being placed with foster parents instead of in a group home, but he still had a gnawing in his gut that something could go wrong. He knew as well as Johnny that foster parents didn't automatically equal kind and caring. He'd heard stories and realized Johnny could end up with carbon copies of his parents. The chances were slim, but sometimes it was just easier to be a pessimistic greaser than an optimistic one - the disappointments didn't hurt as much that way.

"Are … are they nice?" Johnny asked hesitantly.

Sarah stopped in the middle of what she was doing and she smiled a smile that looked wistful to Ponyboy, but he wasn't sure why.

"Yes," she said, "they're nice."

She seemed different today. It was Saturday and maybe she allowed herself to relax on Saturdays. She was wearing tan slacks and a blue sweater and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her seem more approachable. She told them to call her Sarah instead of Miss Martin, explaining that she was getting a crick in her neck from looking behind her for her mother every time someone said "Miss Martin". Johnny tried, but he kept messing up and stumbling over her name.

Pony found himself feeling more at ease around her and he hoped he didn't slip-up and say something stupid in front of her - she was still a social worker and he had to think of her as the enemy. Okay, enemy was a pretty strong word, but she could still really make his life miserable if he accidentally talked about Two-Bit's drinking and shoplifting, or Steve stealing hubcaps, or Dally … well, Dally being Dally.

"Do they have any other foster kids living with them?" Ponyboy asked. He'd read at the library that sometimes foster parents took care of several kids at once, sometimes all different ages. He wasn't sure how Johnny would react if that were the case with these people.

"No. Actually, Johnny you'll be their first and probably their last," she explained.

"Why do you say that?" Johnny asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I asked them to do this. They've never considered being foster parents before." As she spoke, she was grabbing the last of the cards and pictures that had personalized the space. Throughout the course of Johnny's stay, Ponyboy and Two-Bit had managed to fill his room with little reminders of home and the gang. Pony hadn't realized just how much stuff there was until he saw it threatening to tumble out of the box Sarah was trying to force it all into.

Johnny was chewing on his bottom lip, trying to sort out her explanation. "Miss Ma --uh, Sarah, I'm not really gettin' what you mean."

She finally stopped scurrying around long enough to pull up a chair across from Johnny. Some of her hair had come loose from the scarf holding it back and she brushed it behind her ear. She had a small, tentative smile on her lips, like she wasn't quite sure how what she had to say was going to be received. Ponyboy just wished she'd get it over with already, the anticipation was eating up all the air in the room.

"Johnny, you're going to be living with my parents," Sarah said in a serious tone.

"Geez," Ponyboy said suddenly, startling both Johnny and Sarah. "Sorry," he said with a laugh. "It's just from the way you were talkin' it was like you were sendin' him to live with a cop or something. And people say I'm melodramatic."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and gave a tiny laugh that sounded a bit nervous to Ponyboy. "Well, actually, it's funny that you should mention that …"

"What? That I'm melodramatic? You should just ask Darry, he says it --"

"Not that Pony," Johnny interrupted quietly. "I think she means the part about the cop."