The house is lit up when I get home from work that evening and I immediately recognize the heavy blue pickup truck that's sitting in the driveway. Aunt Louise – my mother's younger, more eccentric sister. I wave to Lucy as she pulls away from the curb and push the front door open slowly. You never know what you're going to get when it came to my mother and Aunt Louise. Sometimes they got along, other times it was like WWIII in our living room. I listen for a moment in the foyer, their voices are low and rushed, making it difficult to tell if they are arguing.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," my mother finally says sternly. I can hear her shift around the kitchen, closing the oven door with a slam, "Nellie will be home, any minute."

I take this as my cue to announce my presence by shutting the door loudly, allowing my keys to jingle obnoxiously as I hang up my bag. It sounds like my mother mutters an 'I told you so' before poking her head through the kitchen doorway with a forced smile. They had been arguing, but it seems like my mother had also been crying the more I study the fine lines on her face. I can count on one hand the number of times my mother has cried – all of which have had something to do with Aunt Louise.

"How was work, my dear?" She asks, crossing the foyer to give me a warm hug. She squeezes me for a moment longer than usual.

"Fine," I say before following her into the kitchen. Aunt Louise is sitting at the kitchen counter, a wine glass in her hand. She is shuffling something into her purse and then smiles widely when she seems me.

"You look more like your mama each time I see you," Aunt Louise says with a low whistle before wrapping me into a hug. I can smell the stale cigarettes in her hair and wine on her breath, but at this point in my life it's comforting.

"I hope that's a good thing," I tease. My mother snaps her cooking towel at me, and I laugh, taking the stool next to my aunt.

"One of the best things," Aunt Louise says, "your mama has always been the prettiest girl I know."

"Oh Lou," my mom says with an eyeroll before peeking into the oven. "You hungry?"

"Course," I say, trying to sneak a sip of Aunt Louise's wine as my mother has her back turned. She must see me in the reflection of the oven door because she turns around and snaps the towel at me again.

"Oh, come on, Bette" my aunt says with a laugh. "You were drinking more than just wine at her age."

My mama glares at use and then points a finger at me, meaning business. "Go get washed up please. Dinner will be ready soon," she tells me before waving her hand and snatching my aunts glass to take a sip herself.

As soon as I am out of the kitchen, I hear my aunt and mother's low voices start in on each other again. I pause for a moment, shifting my weight back to try to listen through the door. There's a brief pause and the door swings open, knocking me in the butt.

"Penelope Mathews," my mother says. "If you don't get your behind up those stairs and wash up," she shakes the cooking spoon at me threateningly and I hurry up the stairs taking two at a time. Whatever argument they were having – it was not meant for my ears.

I decide to give my mother and Aunt Louise their space. If they wanted to argue in private than I knew they would also let me know when it was safe to come back down the stairs. I watch the seconds tick by on the clock and wonder if dinner will ever be ready. Suddenly, the phone rings. There is no rush to answer, and I listen as the shrill sounds echoes up the staircase three or four times before someone finally answers.

I hope its not Two-Bit calling because he needs a ride home. If my mama and Aunt Louise weren't arguing, Two-Bit would be the match that lit the flame. I can hear my aunt now, Patricia you spoil that boy. He's never gonna know hard work if his mama keeps comin' to rescue him. At times I had to admit that my aunt might be onto something but spoiling Two-Bit was part of life. He was a child, but he was also my mother's baby. I sigh, rolling over on my bed to get a better listen. I had a feeling that something was always wrong with his car. It didn't matter what shop he took it too, how expensive the parts were, the car was always breaking down somewhere and I am not in the mood to drive out into the country with my mother and Aunt Louise to pick him up.

"Nellie girl!" My aunt calls up the stairs. I groan, rolling off my bed and landing with a thump on the floor, "It's for you."

"If it's Two-Bit, I'm not here!" I call down to her and I hear her laugh.

"No, it's a – ?" She trails off and I hear her say something into the receiver before shouting up the stairs again, "Ponyboy Curtis."

This causes me to pick myself off the floor so quickly I almost slip down the staircase because the rest of my body can't seem to catch up with my feet. My mother is now poking her head through the kitchen doorway into the foyer, a knowing smile on her lips. My aunt lifts her eyebrows in surprise at my eagerness and mouths the word boyfriend. I roll my eyes and snatch the phone away from her, pushing her and my mom back into the kitchen and making sure the door swings shut behind them.

"Hi Ponyboy," I say, trying to sound like I'm not out of breath from running down the stairs.

"Where do you think Agatha Christie gets the names for her characters?" He asks, skipping any greeting.

"What do you mean?" I say, sitting on the bench next to the front door and eyeing the kitchen door carefully.

"Poirot, Windlesham, Otterbourne," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"I thought you were starting with The Maltese Falcon?" I ask him, ignoring the slight judgments of one of my favorite books.

"I was, but I got curious as to why you enjoy these so much." He teases.

"And so far?"

"And so far I think your nuts," he says with a laugh and I smile, feeling the bursting of butterflies erupt in my stomach.

"Okay well I'm hanging up now," I tease, trying to make my voice sound stern.

"Alright, well hold on," he says, and I clutch the phone a little tighter. "I realized I never told you what time on Friday as soon as I left, and Mark said I'd look like the biggest nerd if I walked back into the bookstore."

"Well, it doesn't take much for you to look like that," I tell him. "You did just start our conversation off with Agatha Christie."

"Oh, you are Two-Bit's little sister, ain't ya?" His voice heavy with sarcasm, but despite this I can still hear the smile through the phone.

"What time on Friday?" I ask him, biting my lip to keep a laugh from escaping my lips.

"I'll pick ya up at seven, we'll get a bite at Jay's, and then head over to the drive-ins by sundown."

"You can't pick me up here!" I tell him, glancing carefully at the kitchen door and then out the window of the foyer to see if Two-Bit pulled up without me noticing, "Two-Bit lives here."

"I'm aware," Ponyboys says with some question. "What's the big deal?"

"You think Two-Bit's going to let me go on a date with his buddy? Please. He'll be trailing us all over town." I express and I hear Ponyboy chuckle into the phone, "It's not funny!"

"I ain't laughing at ya," he promises. "I just didn't know ol'Two was the protective older brother. He always seems laid back to me."

"You'd be surprised. I half expected him to show up at Mark and Bryon's last week." I say with a sigh, "What are we gonna do? I don't have a car to meet you there."

"Call me old fashioned, but it's not a date if you drive yourself – especially if we have two cars at the drive-in."

"Okay, old fashioned, so what's your big idea?" I ask and Ponyboy chuckles again.

"Ha-ha," he says, "why don't you just meet me at my house? Two-Bit hasn't been around much since he started dating Donna.

"Yeah, 'cause they spend all their time over here buggin' me." I tell him with a sigh, "You sure that's a good idea?"

"It's the only one I got," he tells me, before continuing, "shoot kid, you worry too much."

"I'm just lookin' out for ya," I say with a shake of my head. "You ain't gonna half as pretty once Two-Bit skins ya."

"I'll take my chances," he says. "Now if you excuse me, I have a murder to solve."

"I'll see you Friday," I tell him before hanging up the phone.


It was Aunt Louise's idea to stay until Friday to distract Two-Bit and Donna. Apparently, her and my mother still had a few "things to do" before she went back home to Texas and while I wasn't sure what that meant, I was grateful for her help. She came up with the brilliant idea of wanting to "get to know" Two-Bit's new girlfriend better. She always calls herself our stand-in parent after our father left and used this title as an excuse to take Two-Bit and Donna to a little dive bar she knew – on the other side of town.

It was my mother who helped me with my hair. I always loved the way the brush felt when she gently pulled it from the top of my head down to the tips, her free hand following the brush to smooth down any pieces that might frizz. Watching her brush my hair now, humming methodically to myself, I am struck with how beautiful my mother really is. She is tall with delicate, long limbs. Despite being near fifty and being a single mom for the past ten years, my mother didn't look that much older than me. It wasn't a lie when people said we could pass for sisters. My mother, Two-Bit, and I share my mother's silky, thick brown hair, but only Two-Bit shared her deep blue eyes. Mine were just like our fathers – deep and dark.

"There now," my mother says as she smooths down the last strands. "You look pretty as a picture."

"You don't think my outfit is too simple?" I ask, running my hands over my black pedal pushers as I check myself in the vanity mirror once more.

"Nothing about you is simple," my mother says and when I shoot her a look she laughs, "I just mean you're beautiful, Nellie."

I lean forward into the vanity mirror and fix my lipstick before giving my hair one final comb through with my own fingers, before deciding that this was as good as it was going to get. If Ponyboy could ask me out in my bookstore uniform, then he would like me in just my everyday clothes as well.

"You ready?" My mother asks, she had promised to drive me to the Curtis house so I wouldn't have to walk in the evening heat.

"Oh yeah," I say with a smile, "I love that my mama is dropping me off on my first date."

The drive to the Curtis house is silent and I catch myself running my hands up and down my pants as we finally pull up to the house. The Curtis house is exactly the way I remember it. Same chain link fence with its crooked gate, same patchy grass, and poorly painted porch.

"Should I walk you to the front door?"

"Mama!" I say before snatching my purse and opening the door.

"Be home before two a.m. this time," she tells me with a small smile.

"I'll be home by midnight," I promise before closing the door and watching her pull away.

I take a moment for myself, sucking in a deep breath before fixing my hair one more time. The gate creaks as I push it open, sounding very similar to our own and I have to smile to myself. Maybe all houses on this side of town weren't that different. All of the windows are open at the Curtis house, allowing the warm summer breeze to rustle the soft white curtains. I'm so nervous, that I don't notice anyone else on the porch until I hear a low whistle to the left of me.

"Jesus Christ," I hiss, jumping in surprise, "Sodapop Curtis!"

"Nellie," he says before flicking his cigarette into the ash tray. In the fading sunlight, the scars on his hands are more noticeable and I swallow, trying not to stare for too long. Instead my eyes focus on the cane next to him, another constant reminder that Sodapop Curtis was not the same man he was when he left for Vietnam almost two years ago.

"You scared me half to death," I tell him and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Sorry," he says before patting the open spot next to him on their bench. I glance at the front door and then back to Sodapop. Did he know I was here for a date with Ponyboy? I glance at the door one more time and Soda finally says, "Shit kid, I forgot. Pony ain't here."

I feel my heart pound and it feels like it drops into the middle of my stomach. I swallow the lump that immediately forms in my throat and try to keep my face neutral and cool when I ask, "What do you mean?"

"Dummy forgot that he had a shift at the grocery store," Soda shrugs. The same ghost of a smile fixed on his face as he watches me. I wonder if he thinks it's comforting or if it's just a look he's been practicing trying to look like he did before. Either way, I wish he would stop.

"Oh," I say, not sure what else to say to him. He tilts his head and for a moment, I see the same handsome, carefree Sodapop. The one who I know my brother and his brothers most likely desperately missed.

"I guess I should have started with he'll be home by 7:30," he says smiling scratching his forehead nervously. "My brain –" he starts before sighing, "it doesn't work like it used to. A little more forgetful than before."

"It's okay," I tell him before cautiously taking the seat next to him on the bench, "It looks like forgetfulness runs in the family."

For a second, that ghostly smile on Sodapop's face brightens, a small laugh escaping. "I have an excuse," Sodapop says, "I have a brain injury – Ponyboy's just got his head in the clouds."

I suck in a sharp breath, looking away from Sodapop quickly – like he might suddenly distort in front of me. When I don't say anything right away, he sighs, "Sorry, Darry keeps telling me those jokes aren't funny."

"They could be," I say glancing at him from the corner of my eye, "you just gotta work on your delivery."

He nods and then we sit in silence, watching the sun begin to set behind the houses. The colors in the sky turn from a blazing orange to a dull blushy pink. Every few minutes, Soda gets a little fidgety and has to tap his fingers against the arm of the bench or scratches his forehead a little too vigorously. I try to think of things to talk about, but nothing comes to mind. Everything in my life sounds so trivial compared to Sodapop's. What was my blossoming love life, compared to a brain injury? It's times like this, where I wish I had Two-Bit's childishness. Nothing ever seemed to be awkward for him.

"Here he comes," Sodapop finally says. His voice a little gravelly as a black truck pulls down the street, driving a little faster than needed.

Ponyboy hops out of the truck and slams the door. He rushes up the steps of the porch, his green grocery apron swinging sloppily from his neck. He's sweating and his brows are furrowed as he skids to a stop in front of me and Sodapop.

"Nellie," he begins, but I hold my hand up to stop him.

"It's okay," I say looking down at my watch. It was now 7:45, we would miss dinner at Jay's. "We can still make the movie. You can just buy me extra candy to make it up."

"You need anything before we go Sodapop?" Pony asks, looking over at his brother with a concerned look. I wonder how long Sodapop sat out here on the porch by himself.

"No, you two kids have fun. I'm sure Darry will put me to bed once he gets home" he says without so much a glance in Pony's direction.

"Let's go then, Nell." Ponyboy says, hesitating a moment, before taking my hand to walk me down the porch. I look over my shoulder and wave to Sodapop, who just lifts a few fingers up in response.

"Ponyboy," Sodapop calls after him and Pony pauses at the gate and looks back. "You forgettin' something?" Sodapop motions around his neck and then laughs. A real laugh.

Ponyboy looks down and flushes when he notices the green apron still hanging around his neck. I stifle my laughter by covering my mouth with my hand and feigning a cough. Ponyboy glares at me playfully before jogging back up to the porch and tossing his apron at Sodapop. Sodapop shakes his head, but folds the apron nicely over the armrest of the bench.

"Have fun you two," Sodapop calls after us as Ponyboy opens the passenger door for me, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."


A/N: Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.