"Here's the discharge papers for Ponyboy and Sodapop Curtis. Sign here please." An unfriendly nurse placed two sets of papers in front of me to sign while she went to get wheelchairs for my brothers.

After two and a half long weeks in the hospital, I was finally able to bring my brothers home. Soda would have to physical therapy once a week to help with the knee he dislocated, and both need checkups with the doctor to make sure they were healing properly, but at least they were coming home, where they would be safe under my roof.

Soda was sitting on the edge of a bed, dressed in his t-shirts and jeans. The same nurse who gave me the discharge papers was helping him sit down in the wheelchair. Ponyboy, on the other hand, was protesting the chair.

"Darry," he pleaded. "I don't need to be wheeled down. I can walk by myself."

"Sorry, it's hospital policy," said the unfriendly looking nurse.

"Pone, just get in the wheelchair," Soda said, with a smile.

He grumbled, but sat down anyway; just another reminder of how close my two little brothers were. Soda could coax Ponyboy to ride down on an elephant if he wanted to.

I pushed Pony down the hallway while the nurse pushed Soda. She parked the wheelchair outside while I went to get the car. The crestfallen look on Soda's face was clearly visible when I drove the car up.

"What happened to the truck?" Soda asked.

"Well, I uh, had to get it towed." I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. "This is one of Tim's cars. He offered to loan me one of his 'til we got ours fixed."

"I could fix it for you," Soda said eagerly. "That would be a real easy repair, mostly cosmetic."

"I know you could fix it for me, but I needed something in the meantime. Our truck is at the house, whenever you're ready to make it run again. But don't go thinkin' that it needs to fixed right away. I don't want to see you working on it for at least a week."

"Yeah, okay," Soda said glumly, getting in the car.

Soda was able to get in the car with ease, but Ponyboy was another story. He just stood on the edge of the curb, and ran his fingers along the edge of the doorknob.

"Do you need any help getting in?" I asked him.

"No, it's not that," he mumbled.

I got what he was saying, and was embarrassed that I didn't put it together quicker. He hadn't been in a car since the accident. I don't blame him for not wanting to hop in right after all the bad things that have happened in cars. Four out of the five members of this family have gotten into a life-threatening accidents. It will be a long time before he felt comfortable in a car again, and I would do everything in my power to make sure that I help him get through it.

"I promise I'll go slowly. I won't do anything to make you nervous. Okay?"

He nodded slowly and scooted into the backseat where he could sit with Soda.

I put the key in the ignition and pulled away, the hospital slowly disappearing in the rearview mirror. If I had anything to do with it my brothers would not be here again for a very, very long time.

XXXXXX

I was gripping Soda's hand so tightly that my knuckles were going white. I know this was a silly thing to be afraid of, but I couldn't help it. So many bad things had happened to me in cars, that I couldn't help but feel my anxiety taking over. I thought if I looked out the window then maybe I wouldn't feel so confined in my seat, but all that did was make my head spin. Did scenery always move that fast? I couldn't remember.

Darry was approaching an intersection. Not that intersection, but it was still enough to make my heart pound against my chest like I just ran five miles. I noticed Darry making a big show out of coming to a complete stop and checking both ways before crossing, but my anxiety wouldn't cease until we made it safely to the driveway.

We passed across Archer Avenue, which was just about a mile away from our house. Breathe Ponyboy, I thought. You made it this far, you can go one more mile. I thought maybe I should close my eyes, so when I open them, I will be home and I won't have to do this anymore.

I felt the truck make a familiar turn and come to a stop right outside our front door. I let out a deep breath that I didn't know I was holding. At that moment, our ramshackle house looked like a palace to me.

"You made it Ponyboy," Soda said, patting my shoulder.

"I made it," I repeated. I felt juvenile saying it out loud, but I conquered something today and I was proud of that. I needed to feel pride in something. All of my dignity had vanished after a two and a half week stint in the hospital.

Darry got out and helped Soda out of the truck, and I held the front door for them. Soda was walking a bit better, but he still needed a little help. Once Soda was settled on the couch, Darry went in the kitchen to cook us something to eat.

I saw him open the fridge, close it, then open the pantry, then close that too. He came back into the living room, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"How does buttered noodles sound for dinner?" Darry said. "I'm sorry we don't have much food here, but I'll go shopping first thing in the morning."

"It's fine Darry," Soda said. "Don't worry about it."

Darry went to scrounge up something for dinner, just as a familiar face poked his head through the door.

"Don't fear, Two-Bit is here!" He barged in behind Steve, holding a large box of pizza. "And I come baring gifts!"

"He carried it in from the car, he didn't pay for it," Steve corrected.

Two-Bit scoffed. "That was still a big job! This pizza is heavy from all the cheesy goodness." He set it down on the living room table and opened the box. Darry hates when we eat in the living room, but he let it slide today.

Everyone grabbed a slice and dug in, and for a tiny moment, I was able to forget about the accident. For one moment, all was normal and I could pretend that everything was okay. Then I looked at Soda's knee and felt pain in my lower back from my surgery, and reality came snapping back.