I've never in my fourteen years, experienced anything that could compare to this. The sickly-sweet smell of burnt flesh - being ripped, as the bullet passed though... but held no pain - only numbness; the smell of burnt gun powder lingering in the air.

The feeling of warm blood as it gushed down my upper arm, just below my shoulder, where the bullet had made it's fleeting exit.

I brought my left hand to the wound, gripping tightly, and feeling slightly light headed. I felt a rough pair of hands grab me from behind, dragging me from the scene I had just witnessed.

That boy... that'd been shot, hadn't been much older than 17. His life suddenly cut short, as he lay crumpled on the ground dying - maybe even dead already. All over some stupid disagreement.

I turned my head seeing who'd grabbed me, and was taken aback - Tim Shepard.

"You try'na get killed, kid?" He scolded, angrily.

The sound of sirens filled the air in the distance; making their way toward where the guns had been fired, a shooting had taken place, where a boys life has ended, and a stabbing claimed another... that's where those sirens were headed.

"Shit, get outta here kid... the fuzz are on their way." Tim said, shoving me in the opposite direction, from the growing sound.

I turned back, calling to Tim.

"Yeah, kid?" his gruff voice answered.

"You haven't seen Soda, have you?"

"Talked to him before, but not since... sorry kid."

"That's ok, thanks Tim."

I didn't wait another second. I took off at a fast run back down the strip, and turned the first corner that came in view and didn't stop... not until I knew I was completely out of sight from the cops.

I finally came to a stop, leaning up against an old brick wall. With my left hand gripping firmly over the bullet wound, as the thick blood seeped through my fingers and covered my palm; as I worked to catch my breath.

"Hey, Curtis!" I heard someone call out.

I looked up to see Curly coming down the sidewalk, taking a drink from a beer can.

"Hey Curly, what's up man?" I asked, once he reached me.

"Nothin', what ya doin' this side a town... ya look like your been runnin' from the fuzz, or somethin'." He said, taking another swig from his can.

I laughed. "You ain't wrong there, Curly."

"Shit, what happen' to you man?" He asked, just noticing my blood covered arm.

"Had a run'in with a gun." I said, as I pushed away from the wall, and removed my now deep red, thickly covered hand from my upper arm, and wiping it the best I could off on the thigh of my jeans, leaving behind a crimson trail. Then reached into my back pocket pulling out a pack of kools. I pulled out a stick lighting up, then offered Curly.

He took one and lite it, then asked. "How'd ya do that?"

I took a deep puff from my cigarette, before answering. "At the drags, some guy slashed another guys tyres to put him outta the race, a brawl broke out with some guy pullin' a heater, shot some guy an' hit me."

"Damn, I shoulda' been there." Curly said, placing a foot behind him onto the brick wall and leaning back, blowing out cigarette smoke. If there's any kinda action happening or a fight going down, Curly hates to miss it... if it's illegal, he'll be there.

I exhaled the smoke, and breathed out a, "Yeah." Before talking another drag on my cigarette.

He leaned off the wall, and finished what was left of his beer, then tossed the can to the footpath - it clanged as it hit the pavement, and rolled landing into the gutter.

"C'mon, let's go to Bucks." Curly said, starting down the sidewalk.

"Nah, I'm gonna find Soda." I said, throwing my cigarette butt away.

"Suit yourself Curtis. But you know, you could just call your house from Bucks."

For once in Curly's life, he actually had a good idea. Soda might be home and he could come pick me up, and if Soda's not home someone else could be there and they could let him know where I am. I ran to catch up with Curly. "Since when did you start getting so smart, Curly?" I smirked, then laughed.

He punched me in my uninjured arm. "Since I started hangin' round brains like you. C'mon lets go."

It was just a short stroll to Bucks place. I gripped my arm, tightly, as drops of blood speckled the side walk. We could already hear the cheap music before we even reached the door. Curly gave a knock before Buck answered, a weed held in one hand.

"Whatta ya kids want?"

"Some booze, and Curtis needs the phone." Curly said.

He glared at us. "Get in," he said, holding the door open, but stopped me.

"Your bleeding all over the place kid, what happen'?"

"I got shot, I need to talk to Soda?"

My focus was starting to waver, everything was slowing spinning around me, like a slow merry-go-round ride; maybe it was from all the blood I'd lost.

"It better be nothin' illegal, I don't want no cops comin' round 'er."

"Nah, ain't nothin' like that."

He gave me a hard stare. "C'mon."

Walking into Bucks was like walking into some down town bar. There were people sitting and standing around drinking beer, loud roaring of laughter, a heated game of pool was being played by the far wall, girls high pitched giggles with their low cut tops, and Hank Williams.

"Phones over there, kid." Buck pointed over to a small lamp table by the wall.

I picked up the phone pressing in the numbers for our house, letting it ring. Someone picked up on the third ring.

"Hello, Curtis residence." Two-Bit answered.

"Two-Bit, is Soda there?"

"Hey kid, his not here... his out lookin' for you. Where are you?"

"Bucks."

"What you doin' there kid?"

"Long story, listen I need Soda to come pick me up."

At that moment, the room suddenly felt a lot colder; like a couple degrees had dropped off the temperature.

"C-can you tell him, Two-Bit?"

"Yeah ok, hang tight kid, I'll go see if...hold on - hold on, he just walked through the door."

"Sodapop... Pony's on the phone." I heard him holler to Soda.

I heard some loud-hurried scuffling, then Soda was on the phone.

"Hey Ponyboy, where are you? Are you alright? I've been lookin'..."

"Soda." I cut him off, and he stopped talking to listen. "S-soda I'm at Bucks, listen... I need you to come get me." I shivered.

"Whatta ya doin' there Ponyboy, is everything alright?"

"I've been shot."

"You've been what." He yelled down the phone.

"I-i'm cold S-soda." I whined, shivering.

"Ok... ok listen baby, stay put. I'm comin' to get you."

"Ok Soda," my reply almost a whisper, before hanging up the phone. Then walked over to Curly.

"Is he comin'?" Curly asked, taking a mouthful of beer.

"Y-yeah, he'll be here soon." I answered, wishing the spinning would stop. It was hard to focus - and I really was feeling light headed.

"Curtis, you ok? You don't look so good, man."

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine," I said, but my voice told otherwise. I took a seat on the old leather lounge, occupying the second cushion, leaning my head into the backrest.

Curly glanced at me skeptically, shaking his head.

I never knew the feeling of getting shot, and if someone had of asked me - I never in a day, would of imagined it like this. I would have answered - it'd hurt like hell; but I knew it was only the adrenaline taking over, causing the numbness. I was sure that once it wore off... I'll be in a world of pain.

I closed my eyes feeling sleepy, and felt the couch shift - with Curly getting up. I wasn't sure where he was going... as long as I didn't have to get up, I didn't care.

A minute later someone nudged me, roughly. I wearily opened my eyes, and looked up to see Buck's tall frame standing in front of me. He popped the cap off a Pepsi, handing it to me. I took it gratefully; my throat was really parched, and I hoped it'd help with my spinning head.

I noticed a tea towel slung over his right arm, he grabbed at it and tossed it, landing it in my lap. I blinked at it, baffled, then returned him with a blank stare - wondering what it was for; sure I was cold... but it wasn't nearly big enough to cover me.

He gave me a look. I'm sure he though I was just that thick; but I wasn't in the right headspace, to be thinking logically.

"It's for you arm, kid... your bleeding all over the couch." I turned my head, looking to the couch behind my arm, and sure enough, the cream leather had a deep patch of smeared red.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" I started, but he cut me off.

"Don't worry bout it, this old things been through worse." he said, patting the sofa arm. I grasped the towel, and pressed it firmly over my arm, as Buck left to attend the bar again.

I didn't have to wait anymore than five minutes for Soda to arrive. By the time I was done drinking the Pepsi Buck had given me he was almost here. He came in almost knocking the door from it's hinges, and practically ran to where I was sitting, grabbing me into his arms in a tight hug.

Then I scolded myself for telling him over the phone, he probably ran every red light and stop sign on the way here. No doubt probably thinking I was gonna be laying here half dead or something, not sitting up on the couch waiting for him.

He suddenly pulled back, looking me over, with his eyes stopping on my right arm. I silently watched him as he gently took a hold of it, removing the tea towel and inspecting the bloodied mess. The bleeding looked like it had slowed down some, now that I had applied proper direct pressure to it.

"How'd that happen, kiddo?" he asked, his eyes solely focused on my arm.

"Some guy pulled a gun at the races, after that guy slashed the tyres."

His eyes left my arm, with him turning his head looking right at me. "Yeah, I saw... but that was after you left."

"I came back lookin' for you."

"Aw, kiddo. I hunted for you, an' asked around but no one said they had seen you."

"Tim Shepard seen me."

"Whatta mean?" He asked, looking confused.

"He got me away from the guy that had the gun, he probably would have shot me again otherwise." I said, quietly, feeling another shiver pass through me.

"I'm so sorry, honey." Soda said, with a pained expression.

"I-it's not your fault, Soda." I swallowed, hard, shivering again.

He sighed, "C'mon... lets get you home."

Soda helped me up, but before we left he called over to Curly.

"Yeah?" Curly called, he was now playing a game of pool, betting with money. I must admit he was a good player, beat me in most the rounds we had when playing for fun. But these guys weren't playing for fun, these were serious players, and didn't mess around.

"Tell your brother thanks from me." Soda called, before we headed out.

We walked out the front to where Two-Bit's car was parked by the curb, Soda must have borrowed it seeing as Darry had the truck and was still at work. He unlocked the passenger side door for me to get in.

I leaned back against the seat, cradling my injured arm with my left hand and shut my eyes. It was even colder in the car, I wondered briefly why Soda hadn't put the heating up.

"S-soda?" I opened my eyes, turning my head slightly to look at him.

"Yeah, honey?" he answered, as he watched the road.

"C-can... can you put the heating up, it's cold."

I saw him give me a quick glance, from the corner of his eye. "It's not that cold out, Pony." I took note of him still in his old navy, short sleeved, over shirt that hung loosely unbuttoned over a white t-shirt, that he'd been wearing that night at the races, and wondered how he couldn't feel the cold. I had that many shivers running through me, I would have believed anyone if they'd had said it was snowing out.

"Well... I-i'm cold." I said, as another chill ran through me.

He reached over with one hand, feeling my forehead. I could see he swore under his breath, before returning his hand to the steering wheel, gripping hard.

"Soda?" I asked, slightly concerned by his reaction.

"Your warm, Pony." I stared at him, blankly. Hadn't I just told him two seconds ago that I'm cold... and he goes and says I'm warm. Did he not hear me?

He noticed my stare. "It means you have a fever, honey." But I could tell there was more he wanted to say - like unsaid words, he was thinking - but didn't want to say out loud.

I didn't drop my stare - but rather more trying to work out what he'd meant. I knew a fever wasn't good, but what made him react like that. Then it clicked - I got a fever after being shot... and that could only mean one thing - possible infection.

I groaned, turning my head back and closed my eyes again. Trust me and this situation to turn for the worst - well it hadn't exactly turned for the worst, yet - but knowing me and my luck, well let's just say it doesn't come to me often. Not saying my current situation isn't already - in most opinions, bad - and that's putting it mildly, but an infection to top that off would be like shooting a man when his already down, and that's worst than bad.

I had almost fallen asleep, before the most excruciating, truly agonising experience of pain hit me, it went right though my body. I broke the silence, crying out in pain, and clutched my arm tightly. I felt the car slightly swerve to the right, before straightening again - I guess my sudden scream scared Soda.

...

Bella Lilac