When Johnny returns to the Curtis house after throwing around a football with the boys, he pounds up the stairs to Ponyboy and Sodapop's room, where Pony is finishing his homework.

"Hey, Pony," Johnny shouts as he enters. "If you finish by six, Darry says we can to the mov-"

Ponyboy is sitting cross-legged on the floor. The kid's book that Randy gave Johnny is opened on Ponyboy's lap.

"What the hell are you doing with my stuff?" Johnny's voice is a quiet threat. "Give it back!"

But Johnny's anger ebbs when he sees Ponyboy's tear-streaked face. Johnny kneels down so he's at Ponyboy's level on the floor. "Sorry I yelled at you," he says, putting an arm around Ponyboy's shoulder.

"My pen ran out of ink," Ponyboy explains. "I was too lazy to go downstairs and I thought you might have a spare, so I checked your bag."

"Ponyboy," Johnny asks reluctantly, "are you okay?"

"It's just this book..."

Ponyboy's sensitive. Too sensitive. Even more sensitive than Johnny. He spends his hours sketching portraits and quoting poetry and crying at the sad part of movies. Even with his folks dead, that boy has still managed not to toughen up. It's never bothered Johnny, though. Not in the way it worries Darry and Soda, or irritates Steve and Dally, or makes Two-Bit resort to inappropriate jokes. But if a children's book is setting Pony off, maybe Johnny should worry.

"It's only a little kid's book," says Johnny, but not meanly.

"It's so sad," Pony says. "I really hate it. I wish I'd never read it. I feel so sorry for the tree."

Ponyboy says this last bit with such sincerity that Johnny tries very hard to keep the ridicule out of his voice when he clarifies, "You feel sorry for...a tree?"

Pony nods. "Didn't you?"

"I haven't read it yet."

"He really likes you, you know."

"Who?" Johnny swallows.

Ponyboy gives him a superior look, one eyebrow raised. He wipes the tears from his cheeks. "You know who. Randy. He cares about you. That's why he got you this book."

"No he didn't."

"Johnny, he wrote you a letter on the flyleaf."

Johnny rubs the front of his jeans. There's nothing he can say, caught in a direct lie like that. He jumps up in surprise when Ponyboy's hand lands on his wrist.

"I'm glad you guys are friends," Ponyboy says.

"You and me are friends," Johnny argues. "Me and that boy, we ain't friends. He's a Soc. We ain't friends."

"Yes you are," Pony insists. "I could tell the minute he came by with your test the other week. He was so happy and excited for you. I knew you were going to be friends. And if he got you this book, he knows you. And if he knows you like that, you're friends. Good friends." Despite his stated support, judging by his tone, Ponyboy doesn't sound too happy about that.

"He's a Soc," Johnny protests.

But Ponyboy just shrugs his shoulders. "I guess that doesn't matter sometimes. Some people make sense together. You two do."

"You're not mad?" Johnny asks. He feels like a traitor. Two-Bit thinks he is a traitor. Steve would think he is a traitor. Dally would think he is a traitor. Maybe even Darry would think he is a traitor.

"No. I'm not mad, exactly."

Johnny tenses.

Ponyboy pulls at a loose thread on his pant leg, not quite looking at him. "It's just that you've been spending a lot of time with him. Do you...do you like him better than me?"

Johnny lets out a sigh of relief. He could laugh. Here he was, worried about being judged as a traitor, and it's only that Ponyboy has gotten jealous.

"Naw, Pony." Johnny grins. "You'll always be my best friend. You know that. And truth is, I miss you." He realizes he does the moment he says it. He's spent so much time avoiding Ponyboy because he was embarrassed by their conversation that they haven't really got a chance to hang out alone together in weeks.

"I've been so busy catching up on my schoolwork that I haven't thought about much else," Johnny lies. "But I'll make sure to visit more often."

"You'd better," Pony says. "Things have gotten real bad without you around. Darry's driving me up a wall and Soda isn't always around to stop him. I need you here, Johnny. I swear to God I do."

#

When Johnny is home alone in his bedroom, he reads the book.

On the flyleaf, in Randy's familiar, careful script, is written:

Dear Johnny,

Don't give up too much of yourself, okay?

-Randy

And Johnny reads about the tree, offering her fruit, offering her branches, offering everything, until she is left with nothing but a stump. And the boy, who takes and takes and takes until he is a tired old man, but never once says thank you. And who, ultimately, is never once satisfied with what he has taken.

Johnny doesn't know the point of the story. He doesn't know if it's about the nobility of love and sacrifice, regardless of whether that love is returned. He doesn't know if it is about how love and sacrifice can be abused by selfish, uncaring people. He doesn't understand the point, but he understands Randy's loud and clear.

#

The next day at school, in the hallway, Randy pulls away from his friends and approaches Johnny as he is headed to English class.

"Did you read it?"

Johnny nods.

"What do you think?"

Johnny looks behind him and sees a group of senior Socs staring at the two of them. He turns back to Randy. "I think the tree ain't happy."

"See you after school," Randy says.