Sodapop slammed the door behind him and starting rummaging through drawers to find a clean shirt. He looked at Ponyboy's side of the bed, which was in the same condition that he had left it the night before. Neither of them had ever bothered to make their bed.

Sodapop wanted to scream, cry, or punch a hole in the wall. He was being told again and again that Ponyboy would be alright, that he was okay. But he couldn't believe anything until he saw it for himself. He had been told that his parents would be okay, too.

Sodapop was protective over his baby brother. He felt worse that he hadn't been able to help him than if he had been jumped himself. He imagined what it looked like, which ultimately made him sick to his stomach. He imagined how Pony felt, how scared he was. He didn't want to say it to Darry, but he knew that Pony would be more comfortable if Sodapop was there with him.

He couldn't believe the way that Darry was acting. As if after all they have been through, it would be better for them not to be together. They needed each other. And it made Sodapop boil with anger to think that Darry believed that him and Ponyboy would be able to get through this without him. Or that he couldn't control himself enough to be with Ponyboy. Or that the gang believed him.

There was a slow knock on the door. Sodapop pulled the shirt over his head and grabbed a pair of pants to put on. "Who is it?" he shouted.

"Steve," the voice responded. "Can I come in?"

Sodapop considered hollering "no" to him, but was curious as to what he had to say. He was upset that Steve didn't see his way on this, but couldn't find it in himself to be mad at his best friend. He was avoiding the fight that would inevitably ensue if he caused tension between himself and Steve.

"Sure," he said bleakly. A sketch of Ponyboy's caught his eye from where it sat on the top of a pile of papers on his desk. It was a picture of the top of Sodapop's head. It was his hair, and the swirls and style it was in. Sodapop remembered him laying on the couch after work, and Ponyboy doing his homework next to him. They were talking about how their day went when Sodapop noticed Ponyboy looking at his hair, then back down at his paper.

"Homework, huh?" Sodapop asked with a smile. Ponyboy blushed. Sodapop thought it was great that his brother drew. Pony had so many talents. He could read, write, draw, run, and was smart on top of it all. He would make something of himself one day.

"It's boring," Ponyboy stated. Soda could relate. Ponyboy kept his mouth quiet in school, just doing his work and getting good grades. The friend aspect wasn't really his thing, so he kept to himself. Sodapop wasn't surprised that it was boring.

"What are you doing, anyway?" Soda asked, knowing he couldn't help him even if he did tell him.

"Geometry," Pony said. He was fourteen, but took classes that were years ahead of his own.

Sodapop looked around him incredulously. "Well, don't let Darry catch you."

Ponyboy laughed, which Sodapop enjoyed hearing. It was an unfamiliar sound in their house. Ponyboy hadn't laughed in weeks following their parents' accident. It seemed like it was all tears. Now and then, Soda could get a weak smile, but he had noticed that Ponyboy started to open up and become happier nowadays. Darry didn't see it. He didn't really notice it at all. But Sodapop knew that he had bigger problems to handle.

Now he was scared and confused and lost and sad all over again, but Sodapop wasn't there to coax him out of it. He was only across town in the hospital, but he may as well be a million miles away.

Steve opened the door and looked at Sodapop. Soda could see the strange look on his face. Steve wasn't the comforting type, that was for sure. It probably bugged him something fierce that everyone was worrying about Ponyboy.

"Look Soda..." Steve started, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Through the open door, Sodapop noticed Two-Bit studying him while downing a beer but when he made eye contact with him, he quickly looked away.

"Spare me the lecture," Sodapop said, rolling his eyes.

"I just think you should do what Darry says," Steve said. "Make it easier on him. He's got enough on his plate."

"You know, I liked it better when you were always on my side," Soda said with a chuckle, though the light-heartedness fell short.

"So, I won't be dragging you to work?"

Soda grabbed a sneaker and pulled it on. "Nope, I'll make it easy on you this time," he said. "But you're doing all of the oil changes."

Steve scoffed. "Don't say I never did nothin' for you and your brothers."

Darry's heart felt like it was going to fall out of his chest when he heard what the doctor had to say.

The doctor had guided Darry to the hallway, out of Ponyboy's earshot. Darry could tell that whatever was about to come out of his mouth wouldn't be good. He prepared himself for the worst, but any bad news would inevitably break his heart.

"A striking revelation?" Darry had asked as he was being brought to the hallway. He looked back at Ponyboy, who laid in his hospital bed, exhausted. Darry could only guess what the doctor was about to say.

"As we ran a few tests and observed your brother's physical state, we have decided that he may, indeed, need to stay here a little longer," the doctor stated bleakly. No emotion. He didn't care.

"A little longer?" Darry asked. "How much longer?"

"Maybe a few more weeks."

"A few more weeks? How much is a few? Two? Five?" Darry rattled.

"Four to five, yes. Maybe less if he gets better. Maybe more if it doesn't. But I want him to be on close moderation until his condition improves," the doctor explained, exasperated.

"'His condition'?" Darry asked in disbelief. "He has a concussion and a few broken bones, but all of that can be dealed with at home, can't it?"

"Mr. Curtis, I can assure you that it is much more than a few broken bones and a concussion. Your brother has suffered extreme damage to many parts of his body. It may be a few weeks before he can walk without pain again, or properly at all."

"And you think that keeping him here longer can help with that?" Darry said with raised eyebrows.

"I think that broken bones, severe concussions, and deep gashes are ailments that certainly should be treated with medical care," the doctor said. "And, if I were giving my personal opinion, I don't think that it would be ethical to allow a patient to be put back into an environment that caused them to be in this state in the first place."

Darry looked at the doctor quizically. "I think that you need to consider that it is ethical to not assume anything," he said. "It was an accident."

The doctor shook his head. "I assume it was. And I'll reserve my judgments. But I am informing you that you need to make preparations for your brother to here for awhile. We will be running tests later to observe his improvement and see what treatment needs to be done from there. I suggest that you go home and get some rest. I can promise that your brother is in good hands."

Darry shook his head. He didn't agree with anything that the doctor was saying to him at all.

"I'm not leaving. My brother needs me here with him, doctor."

"That is fine with me. But get some rest, son. It will not benefit either of you if you are up all night worrying. He is safe and sound here," the doctor said. Darry appreciated it, but it was less than comforting.

Darry nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate that," he said in a low voice.

He was discouraged and sad and worried about Ponyboy more than he could rationalize, but he had to be brave for himself and everyone around him. He so desperately craved his parents here with him to take control of the situation and decide what was best for Ponyboy. To salvage the situation between him and Sodapop. But he knew that it was impossible.

The doctor walked down the hall, most likely to go give bad news to someone else, Darry presumed. Darry checked in Ponyboy's bedroom, where he had fallen into a medicated sleep. The nurses were constantly in his room checking up on him, giving him medication to sleep around the clock basically. Darry didn't agree with it, but hated seeing Ponyboy awake and in pain.

Once he was sure that Pony wouldn't need him, he ran across the street quickly and dialed the home phone on the old metal payphone. When Two-Bit picked up, he explained that he needed to come home to pack clothes for him and Ponyboy. He needed someone to come and watch Ponyboy for a few hours. Two-Bit agreed that he could make it over, but alluded the fact that Sodapop insisted on coming, as well.

As Two-Bit, Steve, Sodapop, and Johnny arrived, Darry took Two-Bit and Steve aside and warned them not to let Sodapop near the doctor if he came by. He hadn't fully divulged any details, but made it clear that whatever the doctor had to say would not be good for Sodapop to hear. They agreed and took their spots in the plastic chairs that lined Ponyboy's bed. Like the doctor had said, Darry knew that Ponyboy was in good hands.

Darry looked in the rearview mirror as he drove home. He looked at his face. Dishelved hair, bloodshot eyes, and a face in desperate need of a shave. He thought over everything that had happened to him and his brothers and friends in the past few days. He felt guilt, sadness, helplessness, and anger.

For the first time in days, Darry pulled over on the side of the road and let himself cry.

I'm so thankful to all of you who enjoy reading this little story of mine and push me to continue it. Thank you so much for that :)