Days passed with me just bumming around the house, or down at the DX hanging with Soda, or as Steve put it, "Stop bothering us, kid. Some people around here have work to do, go find someone else to annoy." Sometimes... no, actually more accurate - most times, Steve can be a real ass; I wasn't there to see him anyway.

I'd just hang out and talk with Soda as he worked on the cars, or operated the pumps. Some days they had days less busy than others - on those days he'd let me help him with the car he was working on. I liked helping him with the cars - even if I'm not as good with them as he is, and if I didn't get something, he'd drop what his doing to come over an' show me - but he doesn't mind. Soda never minds.

Well today wasn't much less like the others. Right now I am laying sprawled out across the middle of our living room floor, with Elvis playing full blast from the record player, and the television set turned on with no sound only the picture playing. I'm on my stomach, with my legs swinging in the warm house air as the speakers blare out, 'Hound Dog'. I rest my head on my folded over arms, shutting my eyes; feeling the music running right through my body, as the floor beneath me vibrates with the sound.

Both Darry and Soda have today off. Darry never works on a Sunday, no wait... that's not right, not even close to the truth - the fact is, Darry never stops working ever, not even on his days off - what I meant to say was, he doesn't work at his roofing job on Sundays, and Soda didn't have any shifts rostered on for today.

Darry always said there was never enough hours in the day, for all the cleaning and mending that had to be done around this house. He left before saying he was taking the truck to grab some supplies, and that Soda had better have the lawn mowed by the time he gets back and started on the shed - it looks as though a tornado had gone through that back shed - there are car parts and tools thrown everywhere out there.

And me... well, I'm suppose to be cleaning our bedroom - you could say that after the tornado hit the shed it went straight for our room. I know it was partly my fault, well... maybe a little more than partly - but even so - it's more a mess than a couple days ago. Aside from a couple of books standing upright on the chest of drawers, everything else has been tossed carelessly one side of the room to the other.

Like I said, I knew Darry'd be at me again soon to get it cleaned, and today happens to be the day. But one look in there could even make a professional cleaner dizzy, and that's why I'm laying out here. I know I'm gonna cop it when Darry gets back, but his not back yet, and it's been about 40 minutes already.

My thinkin' about the dreaded mess I'm gonna have to clean sometime in the near future is automatically wiped from my mind, as I hear the flyscreen door swing open, then slam shut again. I opened my eyes in a panic, thinkin' Darry's gonna ground me a life time for not cleaning that room. But then breathed a sigh of relief, that it had been only Two-Bit.

"You can do anything but lay off of my Blue suede shoes..." Two-Bit sang in an over obnoxious loud voice to 'Blue Suede Shoes' that was now blaring through the speakers, as he came into the house stopping just in front of me. "Hey, whatcha doin' down there, kid?"

"Nothin'."

"Hmm, that sounds fun... next time you'll have to schedule me in for that." He said with one of his goofy grins, and leant down to ruffle my hair.

"Hey!" I swatted his hand away, then unsuccessfully tried to fix my hair as he headed into the kitchen, returning a second later with a six pack of beer.

"Why don't you come out with us, kid?" He asked, standing over me whilst glancing down at me as I lay on the floor; as he balanced the Budweiser's under one arm, against his right rib cage.

"Nar, maybe later."

"Suit yourself, kid. You know where to find us." He said, stepping over the top of me and resumed singing - if you could call it that... most would probably class as an extremely unpleasant noise - along to Elvis, "You can burn my house, Steal my car, Drink my liquor, From an old fruitjar..." as he headed out the door.

I had only just shut my eyes, when the flyscreen swung open again, but with more force then before - hitting against the side of the house with a bang, before slamming closed. I opened my eyes, turning my head to see who'd come in, and groaned inwardly as a not-so-happy Soda was coming my way.

He walked right past me, heading in the direction to the record player.

"Soda." I whined, as he shut the music off.

"Don't you Soda me." He scolded, coming over to me, and folded his arms across his chest. "Have you even started on the room yet?"

I ignored his question, asking my own. "Did Two-Bit tell you?"

"No he didn't, I asked him what you were doin'. So have you started?"

I swallowed hard as I shook my head 'no' against my folded over arms, my warm cheek pressing against the fine hairs of my skin; and looked up at him out the corner of my eye.

"Pony-" he started to scold, but I cut him off, "What, if you'd have looked in there properly, you wouldn't know where to start either." I said gettin' a little mouthy.

"Get up." He said rather firmly. I gave him a quick glance from the corner of my eye again as I hesitated, but didn't move. "Ponyboy, get up." He repeated, but this time in a I'm-not-joking tone.

I got up slowly from the position I had been on the floor, and nervously stood in front of him, wondering what he'd do. He unfolded his arms, placing a hand to my upper arm.

"What do you think Darry would say, if he'd come home to find you there, an' the room still a mess?" he asked, whilst holding my eye contact.

I averted my eyes towards the ground, and mumbled, "I don't care." Even though I knew I really did, I knew Darry'd be yelling his head off at me right now, and that half the neighbours down the street would be able to hear him.

"Well, maybe you should," his hard tone, causing me to glance back up at him. "Cause he'd tan your backside good, especially for this attitude you got."

I huffed, and glanced away, "Well, maybe it's a good thing he ain't here then." I mouthed back.

He increased his grip on my arm, "Ponyboy, that's enough."

I looked back at him. "What, I didn't do anything." I argued back.

"Yeah, you got that right. You haven't done anything," he said firmly, then paused before adding. "I want you to get straight in that room, an' start cleaning before Darry gets home."

"If you want it done so bad, then why don't you do it yourself." I shot back, then clamped my hand over my mouth; the moment the words left my mouth, I knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. "Soda I'm-" I swallowed hard, and was about to apologise profusely, but the words never made it to my mouth as Soda roughly tugged my arm.

"Come here." His voice somewhat calm; a polar opposite to his body language, he roughly jerked my arm again, then forcefully turning me to the side.

"Soda don't-" I started, but was immediately cut off, as he landed a harsh swat to my backside, then followed with another three. I cried out as the force of the swats projected me forward. Then he roughly turned me back to face him.

"Ponyboy, I do not appreciate that kind of attitude from you, you should know better than to ever talk back like that," he scolded, taking on his parental tone, "Now, I want you to get straight in that room, and start cleaning." He said before releasing my arm. I nodded not meeting his eyes, and wiped at the escaped tears from my cheeks.

I noticed him letting out a slight sigh, as he took in my teary eyed features; before pulling me into a hug. I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, and buried my head against his chest, as he rubbed my back. I could feel his hot breathe, as he rested his head at the top of my hair. "Shh... it's alright now," he soothed, rubbing my back. I dried my tears on the front of his shirt, as he calmed me. I felt his arms loosen from around me before letting go.

"Alright... off you go," he said, lightly. I looked at him through teary eyes, before dropping them to ground and turning, slowing making my way to my room.

As I reached the doorway of mine and Soda's shared room, I looked at the mess before me, and couldn't help but think - where do I start. I'd always heard this saying - a made bed always makes the room feel clean, so I figured that's where I'd start. I practically jumped from spot to spot over the mess cluttering the floor and over to the bed, then threw Soda's sleep pants and my old navy tank top I'd tossed on there this morning to the floor. I pulled up the top sheet levelling it to the pillows then rounded to the end of the bed, taking the end of the quilt cover in my hands giving it a rough shake, and watched as it fell a little off centred across the bed, then climbed up onto the bed and crawled carefully across it, trying not to crinkle the covers to much again, and straightened the pillows at the top of the bed. I climbed off and stood back to admire my handiwork - sure it looked better than it did, but I don't know if I'd go as far as saying it made the room feel clean - cause from where I was standing, it looked as though a time bomb had gone off.

I bent down and shoved the clutter around my feet underneath the bed, then admired the small clear area of the warn grey carpet, that seemed to have worked the trick, and went around the bed and shoved anything approximately two foot around the bed under it.

I looked at the clear space around the bed; it somewhat reminded me of a small trail leading around the rocky mountains, and I was the mountaineer trying to clear away all the overgrown shrubbery. Next I hunted around pulling any lost books I could see from the mess, and standing them upright on the chest of drawers. As my journey continued I heard the front fly screen open with Darry's voice calling through the house. Crap, I hurriedly threw open the wardrobe door and tossed anything I could get my hands on onto the wardrobe floor, least I was making some good progress. The warn carpet was now taking over the battle, with its dirty grey colour appearing in a great amount on the floor.

I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, and started throwing things in faster, but was relieved when I heard another door down the hall open instead. I glanced around the room, it was now almost half and half, with the carpet coming out in front, but the battle must go on if we wanna win this war. I'm not sure when the scene turned from a mountaineers adventure to a war battlefield... but still, a war is a war.

I turned my head to the door as the footsteps from a few minutes ago grew closer to my bedroom door, and the doorknob turned with Darry poking his head in.

"How's this room comin' along, Pony?"

I glanced around me again, "Well... the clutter seems to be good soldiers, their putting up a pretty good fight. But the carpet and me are working hard to win this battle."

Darry looked at me like I'd grown two heads, then shook this head. "I don't really care who wins, just as long as this mess gets cleaned." I heard another set of footsteps coming down the hall just as Darry was closing the door.

"How's the kid goin', is he gettin' the room done?" Soda's voice asked.

"Umm... yeah, but I think his turned the room into a battle ground." Darry said slowly, like he was trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"What?" I heard Soda's confusion as I did Darry's chuckle as his heavy footsteps left back down the hall. Then the bedroom door opened again, with Soda appearing this time.

"Hey kiddo, what's this I hear about a battle ground."

"Oh, it's nothin' Soda," I laughed, waving him off, then turned back to the mess and picked up an old pack of football cards we use to collect as kids and tossed them onto the wardrobe floor.

"Do you remember when we used to collect those?" I heard Soda asked from behind me, but my brain didn't register what he was referring to.

"What?"

"Those football cards, remember when we use to collect them?"

I did remember that clearly. I was maybe six or seven, and didn't understand football too well at the time. I remember the loose cards coming in a sealed pack, so it was almost a lucky dip on what cards you received. But what I remember most clearly is that as I ripped my pack of cards open Darry was right beside me in an instant, scanning over my cards closely as I looked through them. And with me being too young to know who any of the players were he took advantage of that - trading all his favourite players from my pack with ones he didn't want from his - even if I already had that card he traded me. I ended up with lots of doubles after that and what had to be the worst players on the teams.

"Yeah, I remember that." I said, still thinking about that time, that felt oh so long ago now.

"Remember how Darry would take all your good players, and give you the ones he didn't want?" Soda asked, exactly as I had been thinking - I'm sure sometimes, that I swear he could read my mind.

"Yeah, I remember." Just as my answer left my mouth, Darry rounded the corner of our door and stepped into the room. We both looked up as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Hey Darry, what's up?" Soda asked, watching our older brother.

"I forgot to tell you boys. I ran into ol' Gary while I was down the street, and he mentioned their short on men down at the warehouse tonight, so asked if I could come in."

After a moments pause, Soda spoke up. "Ok, and what did you tell him?"

"I told him I'd be there. So Soda that leaves you in charge, and Ponyboy you'd better mind him," he said eyeing me, before he continued. "Soda there's some leftover mince from last night, and make sure the boys don't get too rowdy if they come by. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it Darry. And you can stop worrying, I've been left in charge many a times."

Darry turned his direction towards Soda. "Yeah, I know you have," he said, before pausing. "Well, I gotta be leaving here by five," he started towards the door, before turning his head in my direction now, "And you better behave, Ponyboy," he warned.

"I will, Darry."

"Good," he said eyeing me, before turning out the door. As his heavy footsteps went further from the room, I turned around to face Soda whom was still standing behind me.

"Well, it looks like it's just you and me tonight, kiddo."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, don't sound too excited about it." Soda laughed, then leaned over to ruffle my hair.

"Hey, quit it Soda." I scowled, batting his hand away from my hair, and tried unsuccessfully to pat it back down.

"So, what do ya wanna do tonight? Should we get the boys over?"

I shrugged, looking up at him. "Yeah, if ya want. Aren't they still here anyway?"

"Nar, left a little after Darry got home."

I nodded, turning back towards the wardrobe, to try finish cleaning up. Soda left saying he'd leave me to it. And it was back with just me and what was left of the mess. I glanced around me, nothing more had been touched since Darry and Soda had come in, and a little less than half the floor was still covered. If this were a real war, I'd be calling in the battle troops for more reinforcements, cause my men would've all been either shot or injured by now.

I stayed in there for the next hour or so, cleaning the floor spotless - but I couldn't say much for under the bed or the wardrobe floor. I just feel for the next person that comes in here needing to find something.

...

Bella Lilac

A/N - Elvis Presley 'Blue Suede Shoes'