I wasn't crying, I felt too shocked to cry. Ponyboy was dead? It wouldn't make sense to me. I'd never not believed something like I didn't believe this. We were all here. Darry was sitting at the kitchen table, his head down in his hands. Soda was sniffling, the sobs tapering off, his eyes were all wet and red from crying. Dally was scowling in the corner, his hands balled into fists. Two-Bit looked as shocked as me. Steve was scowling, too. His eyes were narrowed to little slits.
None of us said much. Dally and Steve talked about getting revenge. I sat on the edge of the couch and smoked one cigarette after another, making myself feel sick. I couldn't eat. The thought of eating made me want to puke.
"C'mon, Johnny, let's go," Dally said, kind of dragging me up by the collar of my jean jacket. I went with him, at least it was something to do, and I didn't think I could stand being in that house much longer. That was the house I always felt so safe in, the house I went to after the really bad beatings, when I was just so sore and aching all over. But it was too sad now. So I followed Dally out the door.
"That soc that killed Ponyboy, he's gonna get it. I'll beat his head in," he said, and I nodded. I was sure I knew who did it. That guy with the rings. I remembered that time in the lot, those rings slamming against my face, the way the blood felt all warm pouring out of me.
"That was the one that beat me up that time," I said quietly, and Dally looked at me fast, his face a mask of anger.
"What?"
I didn't repeat it, but I saw Dally get that glazed look, and it meant he was remembering, too.
"I'm gonna kill him," Dal said.
The day was all gray, the colors all washed out of everything. I thought about Pony, how he was so good in school and everything, how he was gonna go to college and get out of this terrible run down part of the city. But now he wouldn't do nothing. The socs took it all away, and nothing would happen to them. We all knew that. Their parents' money would make everything okay for them, they'd get a slap on the wrist or something, some community service and that would be it. If it was one of us who had killed them we'd get the electric chair. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
Dally went into some convenience store and stole some cigarettes for something to do. I watched him slip them under his jacket as cool as could be. But the manager started eyeing us anyway, even though he didn't see Dal steal anything. They just thought we were trouble. That wasn't fair, either. Dally was trouble, I guess, but I never stole nothing but they still thought I would just because my hair was long and greasy and I wore the worn down clothes and dressed like a thug. So the manager kicked us out. We went and smoked some of the cigarettes Dally stole.
I kept thinking of Ponyboy, like I wouldn't think of him for a while and then the thought would come back, the thought that he was dead and it was like I'd just heard it, and I felt so bad, almost a real physical pain. How could they do that? Those goddamn socs. It made me so mad that they did that and nothing would happen to them because we didn't matter. Greasers didn't matter.
I didn't know what was worse, being at Ponyboy's house with all that sadness or being out here, having all these people come up to us and talk about it. Everyone had heard about it by now, and it was getting exaggerated. People thought I was there, that they tried to kill me, too, and I had to tell everyone over and over that I wasn't there, I'd gone home. Maybe if I was there none of this would have happened. But what could I do? There was so many of them and they were drunk and so mad. They probably would've killed me, too.
I was tired. I missed Ponyboy. I couldn't believe we'd never talk again, we'd never hang out, we'd never do nothing. I couldn't believe the socs stole all of that from me.