A Place Deep Within

Seventh Chapter - The word on the outside

October 19 - evening

Steve throws glances at Pony, and I'm sure Two-Bit told him what happened yesterday. He doesn't ask me about it though, and I'm thankful for that. I don't think I can talk about it. We sit in the living room, the gang. But Dally doesn't stand leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, scowling while listening to Two-Bit's rambles, Johnny isn't out on the porch with my brother, looking at the stars. Like they should be. We're just the leftovers, but the missing ones still take up space. The emptiness they've left behind is bigger than the room. I don't think we'll ever get used to this. To be five, not seven.

Pony sits on the floor, leaning against the couch, with an unreadable face. Since Dr. Wilkins left, he's been hiding in our room, but after dinner, Darry somehow convinced him to stay with us. I can tell he's not happy about it, but at least he's here.

Steve deals cards to a game none of us want to play. I pick up mine anyway, sort them, manage to throw away the low ones. I had just let him down about going to a drag race, or a party, or just do something outside the house. I can't leave Pony. I know it bugs Steve, after all, it's friday night, but he knows me too well to say anything. He's a good friend. Sometimes he lets his mouth go, but he knows when it's really needed to keep shut.

So Steve stays, but what's even stranger, Two-Bit stays too. He cracks a beer, telling us about a happening from school, his eyes sometimes fall on Ponyboy. My brother doesn't react until he mentions some Soc's name. Then Pony wrinkles his nose.

"He's stupid," he says. "I don't know why he's in my english class. Not to mention math."

"He asked about you," Two-Bit replies, and I frown. I'm glad Two-Bit can reach my brother, but it's not good that a Soc asked about him.

"Yeah?" Pony says. "Why?"

"Somethin' about an assignment?"

"Oh," Pony remembers, turning to Darry, accusing him. "I told you I should have gone to school today."

Darry looks a bit worried. "I'll call your principal on Monday and explain."

"That won't help," Pony scowls. "I''ll fail the assignment anyway."

"You don't do school work with a Soc, do you?" Steve growls, and Pony turns his head.

"Like I choose it," he snaps. "It ain't my fault my teacher stuck us together." He gets up and disappears outside. A moment later, I throw my cards down, to Steve's protest, and follow him.

It's raining, but we stand under the roof of the porch, both of us without jackets. It's cold, and Pony's mad.

"Pony," I say, trying to get to him, but he turns his back to me. "Pony, listen!" I grab his arm, force him to eye me.

"Lay off, Soda," he says, jerking out of my grip.

"Is it about the doctor?" I ask him, and he looks over the railing, staring at the pouring water.

"That too," he says, and I realize he still thinks we're lying to him. "What's so bad, Soda? What did they do?" he asks me in an accusing tone.

I'm confused.

"Johnny and Dally," he explains impatiently.

What did they do? They died.

"It ain't their fault I ran away," he snaps at me.

"I know." I don't know what else to say.

"Then don't act that way!" He pushes me aside and walks in again. I stand stunned, thinking that everything about Pony only seems to get worse.

XXX

October 20 - midday

Darry picked up an extra shift, but I have the day off. Our house is small and we share a bedroom, but Pony manages to avoid me somehow. Sometimes I think I hear him talking, or even laughing, in the kitchen when I'm in the living room, or in the living room when I'm out on the porch, but when we occasionly meet in the same place, he keeps his mouth shut and glares. Maybe it's just wishes. I miss my brother, even if he's here. Sometimes I think this is worse than Windrixville.

The sun's warm today and Pony changes into his track shoes.

"Where you goin'?" I ask, looking up from Steve's forgotten car magazine I found on the coffee table.

"Just... out."

"Ya sure you should go alone?" I ask, thinking about Socs and jumpings. The rumble should have put an end to all that, but I don't trust them. I don't think any of us do. Socs are not famous for playing by the rules. When I think about it, greasers aren't either.

"Yeah," he says after a moment of silence, and I frown. He's lying to me, I know it. I don't know what he's up to, but I can't tie him up in our bedroom and knock some sense into him, so I just nod. Let him do his normal stuff. Make him better, like he said. The doctor.

"Be back in an hour."

"Maybe two," he says and is gone before I can reply.

I flip through the magazine, not concentrating on the words or the pictures at all. The house is quiet. The clock on the wall ticks. I can't stand it, the silence, so I throw away the magazine, grabbing the phone on the table. Steve's at work so I can't call him over, instead I dial the number to Two-Bit's house. His sister picks up, telling me her brother is out somewhere.

Mine too, I think when I put down the receiver. I doubt they are at the same place, even if that would made me calmer.

XXX

Five years earlier - autumn

Socs. The rich kids. We let off of them in school since all the kids in our Junior High lives on the East side, and the Socs don't. But some of the older ones usually drive their cars on our streets, looking for some greaser to jump, always four or five against one. I know a lot of people who has been on the other side of their fists. Tim Shepard. Two-Bit. My brother Darry. He didn't get hurt so much, but he's big. He can fight back.

Me and Steve are longing for the day we can fight too. Until now, it has only been small battles, mostly just for fun. Never with a Soc. But after it happened to Darry, he told me to never walk our streets alone, and I still do my best to follow that advice. The thought of being jumped by several older boys isn't exactly what I want. But still, the thought of fights appeal me. I'm tired of just being in the audience. A kid. I'm twelve now, old enough to be in it, not stand outside.

So the bruise on my cheek and my split lip isn't a coincidence. Steve holds his hand under his nose, catching the red drops before they fall to the floor, and Pony's staring at us.

"What happened?" he asks, but I ignore it.

"Mom home?"

"No."

I relax. I really want to clean myself up before her worried hands fly all over me. I drag Steve to the bathroom, tailed by Pony.

"What happened?" he asks again, hugging his book. His eyes are huge.

"We jumped a Soc," Steve says proudly.

"Really?" I can see a little insecure smile on Pony's lips. He's afraid of the Socs, even if he never would admit it, especially not in front of Steve. But I guess at least half of the stories that had been told to him ain't really true. And I bet it's Two-Bit and Dally who has told him most of the tales about the big, scary Socs. Maybe I'm somewhat guilty, too.

Steve seems to enjoy the audience, cause he turns to Pony, and this time his hand's replaced by a tissue.

"Yup. He was walkin' all lonesome, and when he spotted us he screamed 'greasers', and I don't think he actully thought we would jump him, but we did. Got'em real good, too," he says nasally.

Pony thinks."So what happened to you, then?" he asks after a while, making Steve scowl.

"He had a brother," I say, chuckling. "Couldn't have known he would show up to save the day." Pony looks a bit shocked that I'm laughing, he can't see the humor in it, but I can't help but feel good. The adrenaline I got from the fight makes me feel like I'm flying. I remember everything. I suck it in like well-needed air. Now I have a story too. A true one.

A door opens down the hallway, and suddenly Darry shows up behind Pony. He gently pushes our youngest brother aside, taking his place in the doorway.

"Soda!" he says. "Who was it?"

"I don't know his name," I say. "But I guess he goes to your school."

"Point him out and I'll get him," Darry promises, and I roll my eyes.

"Darry, don't be so protective, I can fight myself."

"Soda and Steve started it," Pony pipes up, and my fifteen year old brother starts his lecture about Socs and fights and self defense. I don't really listen, and I don't think Steve does either. We still live in the memory, not regretting a thing. Darry is still talking when he gets an ice-pack from the freezer for my cheek, making me sit down on the couch, but all I can think is that I don't need this, I can take care of myself, I can handle the Socs, when my eyes fall on Ponyboy. He remains in the background, listening to Darry with wide eyes, and suddenly I realize it could be him in the future. Him walking in with a bruised cheek, a split lip, a bleeding nose. I understand why Darry seems so upset, cause when I think of Pony on the other side of a Socs fist, I can feel the rage inside. If I can help it, no Soc will ever touch my brother. If they do, I'll make sure they regret it. Just like Darry does.

XXX

October 22 - lunch time

I stand lazily leaning forward against the counter, wishing the clock went faster so I could go home, when the door opens up. The little bell above it makes its jingle, and I straighten up to meet the customer.

"Kid, wait up!" someone shouts, and I recognize the voice as Two-Bit's. I only know one person that he calls 'kid', and sure enough, my brother suddenly stands in front of me.

"Tell him to knock it off," Pony says angrily and points. Two-Bit folds his arms.

"No way, kiddo!"

I spot Steve outside the window and look at the clock. It's lunch time in school.

"Knock off what?" I ask, watching Two-Bit. He looks stern.

"He's following me around like I'm a baby," Pony complains. "I don't need a sitter, not at home, not in school!" he hisses turning to Two-Bit.

"Tell that to the Socs," Two-Bit mutters, letting his watch for my brother down now that I'm nearby. He takes a bag of chips from a shelf and opens it.

"Hey, you have to pay for that," I say before his words catch up to me. I frown, suddenly cold. "What Socs? What did they do?"

"Show'em," Two-Bit nods at Pony, who shakes his head and stomps out the door before I have the time to react.

"They beat him?" I ask, wide-eyed, but my friend tells me no. "Then what?"

"His stomach."

I stare at him for a moment, before I leave my spot and rush after my brother. I tug at his jacket.

"Show me, Pone!" I can tell he doesn't want to, but after a while he gives in. He sighs and drags down the zipper. I lift his shirt, not knowing what to expect. I see big, black letters. Someone has written a word on my brother.

Killer.

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