Blowin' Smoke
Candymouse22: Right! But I wanted to throw you guys for a loop. I'm glad you liked that part, it made me laugh too lol. Thank you for reviewing!
Guest: Lol but this story wouldn't be a story without Ponyboy. Poor Steve indeed. Thank you for your review!
Unknown Identity 90: Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review! I'm glad you enjoyed. :)
Amanda (Guest): I'm glad you feel better lol. Thank you so much!
Chapter 10
Sodapop's POV (January, 1968)
"So... uh, when do you leave, Steve-o?" Two-Bit spoke up uncertainly. We were all gathered in the living room, trying to ignore the elephant in the room, but it wasn't going to work.
"January 20, but I get checked out in two days," Steve replied.
"So there's a chance you aren't eligible?" I asked, suddenly feeling hopeful, but Steve shook his head.
"I'm healthy as a horse. I don't have anything to make them declare me medically unfit," Steve explained, shrugging. "I'm goin', Sodapop. Accept it."
"Dinner's ready," Darry called from the kitchen, breaking through our awkward conversation. We all stood, making our way towards our compact kitchen, but I knew no one would really feel like eating.
After about twenty minutes of silent nibbling, Steve spoke up.
"Come on guys, I don't want the next two weeks to be like this."
After a pause, I nodded. "Steve's right."
"Thank you," Steve's sighed. Slowly but surely, things started to become a little more normal. Two-Bit told a story about some blonde he met last week that turned Ponyboy's ears red and Steve told a story about some Soc at the DX that got on his nerves.
By time everyone went home around two in the morning, the worry that had tightened my chest for the past few days had mostly subsided. I felt normal.
OoOoOoO
(Early February, 1968, Ponyboy's POV)
"Ponyboy!" I was reading over my English Essay when Soda came running into the house with an envelope in his hands, smiling wide. Two-Bit was over as well, lazing around a drinking a beer on the couch.
"Letter from Steve!" Soda handed me the envelope.
"Will you read it? Out loud?" Soda asked. It wasn't that Soda couldn't read, but reading out loud was something that he hated. Years of teachers making fun of him when he missed a word had grown to a fierce hatred of reading in general.
"Ashley... sat in the... deb?"
I look at the sheet of paper. "Read that sentence again, Soda."
"Ashley sat on the deb mith... the blue sheets?" He looks up to me, wondering if he read it correctly.
"Ashley sat on the bed with the blue sheets," I correct gently. "Soda, have you ever heard of dyslexia?"
"I ain't stupid, Ponyboy," Soda growls at me, hurt.
"You read just fine. But sometimes you get messed up with the letters. That's dyslexia."
"Maybe," Soda mumbles uncertainly, not wanting to admit such a weakness.
"Keep reading," I encourage finally, changing the subject.
The word dyslexia was never used after that day, but I think Soda knew the truth. Slowly his reading improved, but only some. Never enough to keep him from dropping out. But for years I continued to help him with his reading homework.
"Of course," I replied, tearing open the envelope before pulling out Steve's crinkled letter.
Sodapop,
Man, it sure is hot here.
"I'll bet," Darry commented, letting out a small laugh.
I would kill for it to be winter, but I'm pretty sure it ain't even cooler then. It's only fall yet and I'm already dying. I can only imagine summer.
How's life treating you guys? It ain't so bad over here. Basic training was pretty rough, but now that I'm in 'Nam it hasn't been to bad. No gunfire yet, but it's only been a week.
The guys here are pretty nice. There's this one guy, Edward Thomas, who reminds me a whole lot of Ponyboy, just less annoying.
I couldn't help but start laughing, especially once I read Steve's next sentence.
(I know you're reading this, kid.) His mom sent him a freaking book and his face was about to split in two when he showed me. Over a book! But he digs okay, so I'll put up with his weird obsession for novels, I guess.
"Shoot, he does sound like you, kid," Two-Bit joked. I stuck my tongue out at him childishly.
Man, you know what I would kill for right now? A piece of chocolate. And the ability to sleep in past six a.m. Our army Sargent likes to wake us up barking before the sun even shines. I've never been a morning person, but man am I a walking zombie that early in the morning.
Write back soon. There's nothing to do here fun besides read your freaking rambling, Soda.
- "Private" Steve Randle
"Sounds like he's doing alright," Soda said finally, smiling. I folded the letter and handed it back to him.
"He'll be okay, Soda," I assured him, but he just nodded solemnly, taking the letter and going back into our room.
A/N: I'll have the day where Steve left as a flashback later on, but I decided to skip to here for now. And I'm sorry it's so short, but I felt like that was a good stopping place. And anyone have any suggestions or something they want to see happen?
Stay Gold,
- Alee XxX