Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 30

The rain fell at a steady pace, soaking the ground. The few measly patches of grass that dotted the yard were beaten down into the mud, like they'd given up and accepted their fate. A small waterfall was streaming off the roof of the porch, and Darry groaned. The damn gutter needed fixing. He mentally added it to the ever growing list of repairs that seemed to crop up daily.

His mood matched the sky - cloudy and bleak. He hated the rain. Rain meant no roofing, which meant no work, which meant no money. It was Monday and he was supposed to be starting a new job today. Hopefully, there'd be enough overtime later in the week to make up for the lost day.

Ponyboy rushed into the family room as Two-Bit's car pulled up and over the curb before shuddering to a stop. Pony was wearing one of Soda's old dress shirts that had seen better days. But compared to what Pony usually wore, he might as well been decked out in a suit jacket and tie, that was how different he looked.

Darry gave him a confused look. "Thought you said this place is kind of laid back?"

Pony stopped and quickly looked in the mirror hanging on the wall. "It is, but ya know - want to make a good first impression," he answered as he smoothed down a lock of hair that had apparently come out of place, despite the ton of hair grease slicking it back.

Darry took a step back as his brother made his way out the door. As Pony walked by him, Darry caught a scent of something other than soap and hair oil. "Pony, are you wearing my cologne?"

Pony's face turned red and he started to answer. "Um …" Two-Bit honked the horn, saving him from answering. Holding up his left arm and pulling back his shirt sleeve, Ponyboy looked at his wrist as though he was checking his watch - a watch he didn't have. "Golly, will you look at the time. Gotta run," he said as he rushed out into the rain.

He stopped suddenly on the last step and turned. "Oh, Darry - I left something for you to read on the kitchen table." He said it so fast that Darry only really caught the part about the kitchen table. Before he could ask him to repeat it, Pony was slamming the car door and Two-Bit was speeding down the street.

Darry made his way into the kitchen and found a notebook laying on the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with a weary sigh and grabbed the book. Pony's name was on the cover and he'd titled it "A Different Sunset". Darry immediately thought about all the times he'd caught Pony staring off into space, watching the sky grow dark. The title certainly fit his little brother.

Unsure of what to expect, Darry opened the book with some degree of nervousness. He read the first line and was immediately pulled into the story. Pony hadn't told him what he had written, he hadn't even hinted at what the topic was. Darry had figured his essay would be about a trip to the country or the day Dad taught him to ride a bike - things any other fourteen year old would think to write about. Never in a million years would he have guessed that his brother would share something so deep and personal.

He sat there reading, unsure of what to think, how to react. The insistent drumming of rain on the roof and the soft rustling of turning pages the only sounds in the house.

Chris was the only person Ponyboy recognized in the tiny conference room. There were four other people there - two girls and two guys. He figured they might be from one of the other high schools in town. They looked a little older than him, maybe sixteen or seventeen. That didn't surprise him; ever since he'd been put up a grade in school he'd found himself in situations surrounded by older kids. He wondered if he'd ever be able to interact with kids his own age, or if he'd even want to.

Chris glanced back at the clock hanging on the wall and then he looked at his watch, as though he was verifying the time. It was exactly one minute past the time he'd scheduled the meeting. Pony wasn't sure what they were waiting for and he was a little alarmed to discover he was hoping that maybe they were actually waiting for someone.

The second hand made another sweep around the clock and the minute hand moved a fraction of an inch. Chris cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back with his index finger. "Okay, guys, let's get on with --" The door behind him opened, interrupting him.

Cherry rushed into the room, flushed and out of breath, a dripping umbrella clutched in her hand. She flashed a brilliant smile at the editor but he didn't return it. "Miss Valance, as we discussed before --"

"I know, I know. 'This is a newspaper. We have deadlines.' " Her voice was lilting, her tone sincere and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, it won't happen again, I swear."

She took the empty seat next to Pony, smoothing her skirt and tucking a few flyaway strands of hair behind her ear as she settled into place. She glanced at Pony from the corner of her eye, and he gave her what he hoped was a confident grin, but it felt wobbly and uncertain.

Chris cleared his throat. "As I was saying. Deadlines are important - the most important thing you have to remember is the deadline for your story. I'm a pretty easy going guy; but hand in your story two minutes after three pm on Friday and I won't be such a nice guy."

There was a scraping of metal chairs on the floor as everyone in the room sat up a little straighter.

"Ponyboy, wait up," Cherry called after him as he hurried down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. The rain had let up a bit, but it was still drizzling and he didn't have an umbrella - naturally, he had forgotten to grab one before leaving the house. He stopped anyway, despite the rain.

She quickly caught up with him, her umbrella blocking out the dampness as she held it over the two of them. "Hey," she said as a greeting and then stood there, an awkwardness lingering in the silence between them.

"Hey," he echoed as he stared down at his scuffed shoes.

She looked at him for a moment, as though she were weighing her words carefully. "Are you really going to write about everything that happened last year?"

He wasn't shocked by her question. He'd been expecting it ever since Chris went over the story assignments in the conference room. The moment he'd mentioned the series of articles he and Pony had discussed, she had stiffened next to him and it sounded like she'd sucked in her breath in surprise. He couldn't tell if it was good-surprise or bad-surprise. Standing here in the rain, inches away from her, he still couldn't tell. He thought he knew her real well, even written that in his paper, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe it had all been his imagination - their connection an illusion manufactured by his brain.

Straightening his shoulders, he looked her in the eye. "Yeah, I'm gonna write about it." He tried to keep his voice even, not make it confrontational. He wanted her to understand why he had to write it. He figured that she was one of the people who would get it - at least that's what he would have thought a year ago, before she decided to ignore him and act like he didn't exist.

"Do you really think that's such a good idea? I mean, everything is finally settling down, getting back to normal." She sounded kind of angry, maybe a little sad; and he figured her reaction back at the newspaper had actually been bad-surprise.

"Don't you get it - normal is the problem," he said earnestly. "Normal is what let all of this happen in the first place."

Now it was her turn to look down at the ground and he felt a stab of guilt. "Cherry, you said that things are rough all over. People just don't see it - especially adults. Maybe a couple of people will read the story and see the world the way it really is."

She looked back up, her eyes were watery and he remembered the way she looked the last time they'd had a real conversation, the day of the rumble. She'd been close to tears then, too, and it did something funny to his stomach. He didn't know how to explain it.

"Look at it this way - it's the Saturday edition, the smallest issue of the week. Plus, it's two pages buried behind the movie reviews and the entertainment schedule for the senior center. Plus, it's all written by high school kids. Five, maybe ten people tops are gonna read it."

Laughing, she swiped a hand across her eyes, stopping her tears before they started. "Thanks a lot, Pony. I was hoping at least twenty people were going to read my in depth article about miniskirts."

Behind them, the city bus rumbled by, passing the stop that was a block away. "Oh, no. I made you miss the bus," Cherry said, her voice laced with concern.

Pony just shrugged. "There'll be another one in an hour. I'm in no hurry to get home anyway." As if on cue, the rain started coming down harder and they both started to laugh.

"I can give you a ride home." She motioned to her red Sting-Ray, parallel parked along the sidewalk and he briefly imagined himself in the passenger seat, pulling up in front of his house. It was such a cool car, but the guys would never let him live it down.

Shaking his head mournfully, he said, "Thanks anyway, but I'll just head to the library. There are a couple of books I wanted to check out anyway." The library was across the street and he realized that missing the bus would delay his getting home - delay talking to Darry about his paper. He figured that maybe this was all a blessing in disguise.

Cherry looked doubtful. "If you say so …," she said as Pony stepped out from under the umbrella and headed toward the crosswalk.

"Pony," she stopped him again, "if I need some help with the article, would you mind if I gave you a call?"

Pony's stomach did a weird somersault thing and he smiled. "Sure, anytime."

When Pony got home three hours later, Darry was out on the porch, sitting on the old bench. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers loosely interlocked as though he was about to pray or had just finished. He was staring straight ahead, unblinking.

Pony cautiously walked up the stairs, his legs growing heavier with each step. He stopped at the top and turned to look behind him, trying see if he could tell just what it was his brother was staring at. Either he was real interested in the leaf curling on the railing, or he could see inside Mrs. Murphy's house and was watching her vacuum in her rollers and shapeless housedress. Pony couldn't decide which and settled on neither.

After about a minute, Darry slowly blinked and looked over at his brother, as though he'd just realized he was there.

Pony's shoulders were burning from carrying the stack of books he'd borrowed. He balanced them on the railing, relieved to have a place to sit them down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to look relaxed, he rocked back on his heels. "So," he said, a look of expectation on his face. It felt like a showdown - who would mention the essay first.

"So," Darry repeated, his face blank, expressionless.

Pony couldn't take the anticipation any longer. He had to know if his brother hated it, hated him. "Did you read it?"

At first, Darry didn't say anything and Pony felt dread settle in his stomach. He screwed up, he knew it. He should have shoved the notebook deep into the back of his closet where no one would ever find it. Pried up the floor boards under his bed, burying the book and those words where the light couldn't reach them. Maybe he should of just tossed it into a fire, watched it burn - it certainly would have been a fitting end, considering everything that had happened. The last thing he should have done with it was show it to anyone close to him. Darry was right - sometimes he just didn't use his head.

Still not saying anything, Darry moved over on the bench, making room. Getting the hint, Pony sat next to his brother, feeling a mixture of terror and anticipation.

"First of all," Darry started carefully. His voice was steady, but Pony noticed he was wringing his hands - something he'd never seen Darry do before. "I read it. It was terrific, Ponyboy. You would have made Mom and Dad so proud."

Ponyboy smiled, he resisted the urge to collapse back in his seat in relief . He knew there was more coming, there had to be - he could hear it in Darry's voice.

"But …," he started for him, wanting to get it over with.

"But … I just wish you'd trust me enough to come and talk to me. You shouldn't suffer in silence 'cause I come down hard on you about everything. I shouldn't just find out how you feel about things because you needed to write something for school."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just kinda rough, ya know. I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing, cause a fight or something," Pony tried to explain, the words tripping over one another. Gosh, this is so much easier to write on paper, he thought.

Darry threw an arm around his shoulders. "Ya know, I'm figurin' all this out as I go. It's not like Mom and Dad left behind an instruction book," Darry admitted and Pony didn't say anything. That was the first time he'd heard Darry say anything like that - admit to not knowing everything.

It was good to know Superman wasn't perfect. Of course, that also meant Superman's brother should probably realize he wasn't completely without faults, too. All those arguments hadn't been one-sided.

Pony gave a crooked smile. "I guess I'm not making it that easy, huh?"

Darry ruffled his hair, messing it up. "Well, now that you mention it, kiddo …"

"Hey, where's Soda?" Pony asked, lightheartedly pushing his brother away before he could get him into a headlock, which was what normally followed an arm around the shoulders.

"He's inside with Steve, reading your story. I figured you wouldn't mind," Darry said.

"Nah, you're the one I was worried about," Pony admitted and Darry laughed. Suddenly, Steve opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. He was stony faced and Pony realized he had more to fear than Darry reading his story.

"Kid, do you really think I hate you?" Steve asked in his usual, direct tone.

"Well …" Pony began slowly.

"Of course I don't hate you. Where in the hell would you get a dumb idea like that? Damn kids and their stupid ideas," he grumbled as went back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Pony looked at Darry and raised an eyebrow.

Darry simply shrugged and said, "Don't look at me."

"Man, what's he like when he does hate someone?" Pony asked with a grin and they both burst out in laughter.

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A/N - The title I gave Pony's theme - "A Different Sunset" - is the title S.E. Hinton originally gave The Outsiders. I thought it would be fun to include it here.

Thanks again for all the great reviews.