"What happened in here!?" Soda questioned, looking at the broken bits of glass, scattered around the kitchen floor.

"Two-Bit, is what happened!" I narrowed my eyes at Two-Bit, as I pulled the bin over, then crouched down to start picking up the glass, putting them in the bin.

"Ponyboy, leave them. I'll go get the dustpan and broom." Soda said, as he went to the laundry room.

Stupidly ignoring him, I continued. As I picked up one of the smaller shards, more jagged on the edges, it slipped, slicing a deep cut into my finger. I winced, "Shit." I dropped the piece on the ground and noticed blood seeping out of the cut. I clutched my other hand tightly around my finger to try and stop the blood, but also to try and take the pain away.

Steve was leaning up against the door frame - watching, while Two-Bit was trying to help me pick the glass up. Two-Bit gave me a concerned glance after hearing my curse.

"You ok, kid?"

I nodded, and answered untruthfully, "Y-yeah." Sure it hurt, but I didn't want to make a big deal about it, and look like a baby - not in front of the guys. It was just a small cut, after all.

Soda returned, dustpan and broom in hand. "Don't touch that guys, you'll cut yourself."

"To late," I barely whispered, clutching my finger tightly.

Soda turned, looking down at me, seeing the warm metallic blood seeping between my fingers. He immediately turned to Steve, handing over the dustpan and broom.

"Steve, can you take over?"

He then crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in his, but I wouldn't loosen the grip on my finger, "Baby, I need to see it."

"It's fine, Soda." I said, trying to sound fine. I moved my eyes quickly from both, Steve and Two-Bit, noticing they were both watching the scene.

"Honey, show me." I sighed, and moved my hand slightly away so he could see, but not completely. He winced, inspecting the damage, then helped me up. He guided me into the lounge, over to the couch.

"I'll be right back," he said, as I took a seat.

Moments later, Soda returned with a small plastic bowl filled with water and the first aid kit. He took a seat beside me, on the couch.

"I need to soak it, to make sure there's no glass left in the cut," he said, holding his palm out to me. I reluctantly placed my hand in his, letting him take control, he submerged my hand into the water. I hissed slightly at the sting, and watched as the water turned an instant pink.

He removed my hand from the water, lightly brushing his finger along the cut.

"Ow!" I gasped.

"It's ok, baby. I can't feel any glass." He pulled out a clean cotton cloth from the first aid, and held it to my finger, with pressure. After five minutes he removed the cloth, but the bleeding hadn't stopped.

Soda sighed, lightly. "It might need stitches, Pony?"

"No, Soda... I don't want stitches." I whined, pouting.

"Yeah, I know kiddo. But if we don't close the cut, it'll get infected."

"B-but..."

"No, buts!"

Now it was my turn to sigh. I leaned back into the couch, feeling defeated, as Soda called out to his best friend.

"Yeah, Soda?" Steve wandered in from the kitchen, that him and Two-Bit were supposably cleaning. I couldn't say what they succeeded in more... cleaning the glass, or... the non stop talking; their voices hadn't stopped since we came in here.

Two-Bit leaned against the door frame, that divided the kitchen and lounge. "How's the kid?"

Ignoring his question, Soda turned to Steve, "Steve, can you stitch the cut? It's too deep to stop the bleeding."

"Sure," Steve hunted through the first add kit, pulling out a needle and thread, and a bottle of alcohol. He crouched down on the floor in front of me, with his hand held out, waiting, getting impatient.

"Do you want me to fix it, or not, kid?" I wanted to tell him, no... no, I don't. But I didn't want to upset Soda either. So instead, I just sat there, not moving.

Soda seeing I was unwilling to cooperate, firmly took a hold of my wrist, guiding my hand in front of Steve. I side glanced Soda. He noticed my glance, turning to me, and gave me a weak smile; I'm sure he didn't miss my lip biting, or the nervousness that was evident in my eyes.

"It's ok," he whispered, gently.

Steve then proceeded to soak a cotton swab in the alcohol, then held my finger as he carefully dabbed the bud to the cut, it burned. I winced, trying to pull out of their hold, but Soda was stronger and managed to keep a hold of me, keeping me still.

"Calm down, Pony... just relax." Soda pulled me closer to him and rubbed circles on my back, making me relax some. I leaned my head on his shoulder and let Steve put the stitches in.

I stayed on the couch - laying down, after my finger had been stitched, a white bandage covering Steve's handiwork. I had asked Soda to put the television on for me, before he left for the kitchen, to start dinner. The TV screen flickered in front of me, some cooking show playing; but even that was not enough to capture my attention, my mind was elsewhere.

The guys had left a good ten minutes ago, Two-Bit saying he had to get home for dinner, and I don't know what Steve's excuse was - but I knew they didn't want to be here for when Darry got home. I don't blame them though. I would have left too if it were me.

I could hear Soda banging around in the kitchen; I wonder what creation he'd come up with tonight. With my creative brother, anything's possible - maybe green pasta, or chocolate soup...

Then the sound I'd been dreading all afternoon came; Darry's truck pulling up.

The sound of his heavy boots coming up the porch steps. The fly-screen opened, then shut, hitting the door frame with a bang - making me jump - praying Darry didn't notice.

He pulled off his work belt, hanging it on the entry hook and kicked off his boots, as he turned, he notice me, "Hey kiddo, how was your day? Did you get up to much?"

I swallowed, hard. "Hey Darry, not much," I greeted, not making eye contact.

"What did..." he stopped short, "What happened to your hand?"

"Umm, I cut it." I replied, hesitantly, chewing my lower lip slowly.

"Cut it? With what?"

"Glass..." I mumbled, looking down.

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "And, do you want to tell me how that happened?"

"Umm... a cup broke." I answered, slowly, flicking my eyes to their corners, giving him a brief glance. I could see that his patience were growing thin, but trying to remain calm.

"Ok, and how did it break?"

"It... umm, smashed."

He sighed heavily. I had a feeling he felt like he was pulling teeth, I was giving him answers - briefly, sure he wanted to know the full story; but I'd be in more trouble if he found out I hadn't cleaned before going out, like he'd asked.

"Ponyboy, you better start telling..." Darry started, but was cut short by Soda singing out to him. He hesitated a moment, but knew he wasn't getting much of an answer from me anyway, and went into the kitchen to find Soda. I could hear him and Soda talking, and prayed Soda would keep his mouth shut.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, get here now!" Darry growled, coming from the kitchen - as my stomach leapt into my throat at the sound of his voice.

I swallowed, hard... thanks Soda.

Darry marched back through the lounge, over to the couch, and roughly pulled me by my arm to my feet.

"Bend over the couch arm, Ponyboy." He ordered firmly, pointing at the arm he wanted me to go to.

He couldn't be serious, could he?

...

Bella Lilac