Hello again! Welcome to another chapter of: Three Days.

-The Youngest Writer.

CHAPTER 4-THE SECOND NIGHT

~Three Days~

"How much do you got? Where is it? How did you come across it?" It was like Rex was wanting to know every nitty-gritty detail about the money I lied saying I had. I was waiting for him to ask me questions such as: What color was it? What did it feel like, smell like?

"I saved up." I would say. "I was saving for a trip. I have a lot."

He dropped it for a while and was distant from me. Chrissy and I watched a lot of TV, mostly soap-operas and Perry Manson court shows. I'd take a glance at the clocks, watching the hours, minutes, seconds; they'd just drag on, and on.

It wasn't until "bedtime" when after Chrissy tucked me in did Rex come in. I was nervous and tried to fake sleep but he shook me.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, Michael."

I shiver, Michael. . . Michael. I'm NOT Michael!

"How much money do you have, Michael? Answer me, boy." His voice was always gruff. It's hard to imagine that when I told him my little white-lie, he cracked a tiny grin.

"A-about three hundred." I lied, hoping I wouldn't get caught.

There was dead silence before-" Boy, if you're lying. . . " I'm glad he didn't finish his sentence, I wouldn't want to know what would happen if he told me what he'd do to me if he found out I was, in fact, lying.

"N-n-no sir, Dad. . . . I'm not."

That seemed to please him. "Good, because good-boys don't lie to their parents, do they Michael?"

"N-no."

I couldn't stop shaking.

"Are you cold, son?"

"A little. . ."

He covered another blanket on me and I hid my face. I bit my lip, trying not to have him hear me hold back cries. I wanted Soda, I wanted Soda. . .

~Three Days~

Sodapop Curtis was tossing and turning in his and Pony's bed. He turned to face the left side, AKA, Pony's side of the bed. He gently allowed his hand to place itself on the cold sheets. He clutched Pony's pillow and took a deep breath in. It still had Pony's scent.

Soda felt tears drop from his eyes and he cluthed the pillow for dear life.

"Ponyboy. . . where are you?" He cried.

Darry too, wasn't sleeping. He stood in their parent's room holding an old black and white photo. It was a picture taken a long time ago, Darry a kid, Soda was still a toddler and Pony just a baby. The three of them were on the couch, Soda next to Darry and Darry giving the honor of holding Ponyboy.

". . . I failed." He felt his voice hitch.

He held the photo close to him and fought tears.

~Three Days~

Around two in the morning, I felt my stomach growl and it made me queasy. The pasta Chrissy made for dinner was good, but now it wasn't setting just right with me. I needed some water. I wrapped the blankets around myself as I walked to the kitchen. I looked around and realized I was probably the only one up.

I could possibly leave, but where to? I was in the middle of nowhere and if I did, someone was bound to catch me.

I grabbed a glass of water and starred at the door for a long time. It took every ounce of my mind to convince myself to not run outside. I shivered. If I went back to bed, I'd fall asleep, wake up and trick Chrissy and Rex into taking me back to town and I'd be home soon.

I prayed to God this would work. I sipped my water walking up the stairs. At the top of the steps, I turned to go to my room when something fell out of a closet door. I jumped out of fear and sighed seeing it was only a little red ball. I frowned in curiosity, walking towards it. I slowly opened the door only to see the creepiest closet I had ever seen. Inside was a small rocking horse, toy cars, a baseball bat and glove and a few other toys fit for a boy. On the wall were articals of newspapers inside photo frames. I turned on the light above me and silently closed the door.

"A child in Tulsa, on December twenty-seventh, is rushed to the hospital from an auto wreck." I read quietly and slowly.

". . . 1966."

The only auto wreck he knew that happened in December was the one involving his parents. He gulped, reading another picture frame.

"Child's name unknown until further details are given about his/or her condition from severe wreckage of December twenty-seventh."

I started to get a bad feeling.

"Child dies three days after the wreck on December twenty-seventh. Parents of the child refuse to give the name, but the sex was male, his age was thirteen. . . " I shivered, feeling very cold as I noticed the back end of one photo frame was loose. I found a small corner of paper and gently pulled on it until I realized I pulled out a photo.

I couldn't breathe as I held my hand to my mouth, preventing myself from screaming.

The boy looked to have the same features as I did, Green eyes, reddish hair and a grin on his face. He didn't look like me, but we had the same features.

'Michael' was written in bold marker at the top, but was crossed off with black sharpie.

There was another artical, different however.

"Missing child in Tulsa, last seen walking his dog in his neighborhood, never seen again." I remembered this. It was all over the papers and Darry practically wouldn't let me out in our front lawn without supervision.

I found another photo in the corner. Again, reddish-hair, green eyes but this one had glasses. 'Michael' was crossed off at the top.

"Another child goes missing in the outskirts of Tulsa. . . "

My biggest fear was seeing my picture at the very top left hand corner. It was the one that was in the newspapers when, Johnny, Dallas and I were called heroes for saving those kids in Windrixvill. At the top in red marker was the name: 'Michael' written in red.

It wasn't crossed off, and I had a feeling I didn't want it to be.

I dropped the photos and ran to the room, jumping on the bed to hide under the covers.

I had to hurry up with this plan. This time, if I failed, I had a feeling that "my name" would be crossed off.

Thanks for the kind, encouraging reviews, keep them coming.

-The Youngest Writer.