Blowin' Smoke

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Chapter 7

Ponyboy's POV (December 27, 1967)

I woke up from yet another nap to just Sodapop in the room.

"Darry's getting coffee," Soda explained, as if he was reading my mind. "How ya feelin'?"

"Not tired, finally. Pretty bored mostly."

Soda let out a small chuckle.

"What happened, Soda? I mean, why am I in here?"

Soda sighed, growing serious. "It was bad, Pone. You had the worst asthma attack I've ever seen. You stopped breathing on Darry in the car. You have a broken rib and it was real close to puncturing a lung, some Soc broke your leg, and you have a pretty nasty concision and a deep cut on the back of your head. You had to get stitches on that head cut and the cut on your hand. Those are the big things, not to mention your numerous other bruises, your black eye, and your sporting a pretty nice fat lip," Soda trailed off. "We almost lost you."

Soda grew very quiet, refusing to meet my eyes. I searched for something to say.

"I'm so sorry, Soda," I finally settled on, guilt washing over me at how worried I had made my brothers.

Soda shook his head, looking surprised. "No, Ponyboy, I'm sorry. I almost killed you because of my stupid stubbornness and pride. I dragged you to that rumble when I should have kept you home. I'm so sorry. I let you down."

"No you didn't. I wanted to go and you weren't going to talk me out of it. I made my choice. You never let me down, Soda," I assured him. He shot me a tentative smile.

"Thanks," he whispered just as Darry walked in, followed by my doctor. The kind doctor I had heard through my drug-induced sleep was Doctor Anderson, a grey-haired man, probably in his late 40's. He was a really cool guy, he would talk to me like I was an adult and explain the different thing he was going to do or what he was going to check and why.

"So, Ponyboy," Doctor Anderson questioned cheerfully. "How are we feeling today?"

"Pretty good," I answered, even though my ribs were kind of hurting me. "Can I get out of here yet?"

"If your brother is ready to sign the release form, you're good to go. You just have to take it easy, okay?"

I could have cried with relief. Finally, I was going to go home. I hated hospitals; I hated the smells, the beeping noise, and I hated having to sit and do nothing for days. Hospitals should be renamed to legal torture houses.

I grabbed my crutches from next to my bed, slowly inching my way towards the bathroom. Crutches were difficult to use, especially since my body was still really sore, even with the pain medication I was on.

Once I reached the bathroom, I sat down on the toilet seat lid so I could put my shirt on. As I lifted my arms over my head, I couldn't help but let out a small hiss of pain as the moving irritated my ribs. Slowly, though, I managed to get my hospital gown off.

"He should be doing okay, you just need to watch out for infections. That cut on the back of his head is pretty serious," I heard Doctor Anderson warn Darry as I attempted to slip a pair of Soda's old sweatpants over my cast. The thing went to my middle thigh and was thick, sweaty, and just plain annoying. Sadly, I would be in it for the next five to six weeks..

I managed to maneuver the sweatpants into one leg, but the cast was proving rather difficult. I stood, trying to make getting my clothes on easier, but my cast banged into the wall with a loud THUD.

"You okay?" Darry hollered, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, m'fine," I yelled back.

I was starting to get really annoyed. Was this how it was going to be getting dressed for the next five or six weeks?

I caught a glance at myself in the mirror and I almost didn't recognize myself. My hair fell down in auburn tufts, greaseless and untamed. Soda wasn't kidding, my eye was a strange purplish color along with my jawline, and my lip had a small cut on it still, but it was mostly healed. I made the mistake of lifting my shirt to look in the mirror, revealing angry welts and bruises along my rib cage. That was just what I could see; my head and ribs in some places were still wrapped and probably looked much worse.

"You coming, Ponyboy?" I heard Darry knock on the door. I guess he was impatient for me to come home too. That made me smile a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

I followed Darry and Soda out to the reception desk, where I was told I would have to ride in a wheelchair.

I was about to put up an argument, but Darry gave me a look that shut me right up. Dejected, I plopped down in the wheelchair and let Soda push me.

As soon as we got out into the parking lot, I stood up and began crutching my way to the truck.

"Ready to go home, kiddo?" Soda asked me, a signature care-free grin spread across his face.

"Boy, am I ever!" I exclaimed. "I hate hospitals."

Soda laughed. "I know you do."

Before I got into the truck, I threw my crutches in the back of the truck to get them out of the way. Soda helped me balance as I attempted to get into the truck without hitting my cast on anything. Once inside, I became sandwiched between Darry and Soda, but I didn't mind. It felt safe and soon I found myself dozing off on Sodapop's shoulder with his arm wrapped around me.

"Go to sleep, kiddo, I'll wake you when we get home," Sodapop whispered in my ear. I would have responded, but I was already asleep.

OoOoOoO

Back in his sorry excuse for a home, a worried eighteen year old picked at the stamp of an official- looking letter. The letter was addressed to one person in particular: Mr. Steven Randle. The young man had been putting off opening the letter for two complete days, even though he already knew what the letter would say. He gulped before slowly ripping open the packaging.

ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION

Greetings,

You are hereby ordered to report for induction into The United States Army and to report to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma on January 20, 1968.

He didn't continue to read the rest. The letter slipped out of the shaking boy's fingers, falling down slowly and silently as everything that the greaser had ever known got flipped upside down.

"You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you." - Leon Trotsky.

A/N: Suggestions/thoughts anyone?

Stay Gold,

- Alee XxX