So ... It's been a while. I won't give up! I'm doing my best!
Disclaimer: I literally own nothing.
Steve POV
The rest of the day goes relatively smoothly. Ponyboy seems to get along well with everyone and it only takes a little prodding to get him to go out with us. While Darry is at work we take him around the town, showing him the best places to hang out and savoring the last of the summer heat. We run into Tim and some of his gang and introduce them.
The kid isn't afraid of Tim. It's obvious the way he holds his hand out for a shake. He even starts talking to Curly while we explain the whole situation to Tim. Agreeing to keep an eye out for him, Tim's gang wanders away.
"I'm gonna head over to Buck's. I was supposed to help him fix the bar sink an hour ago." Dally says, already walking away.
"Shoot." Soda says, glancing at his watch. "I gotta go, too. My shift starts in ten minutes." He shoots us a grin before starting his walk to the DX. I check my watch also, realizing that I start my shift in about an hour.
"I'll come with you," I say. "Might as well head over there now. You guys coming?"
"Nah, I gotta go help my mom get groceries." Two-Bit says.
"Can I come with you?" Johnny asks. Two-Bit nods and they start to walk away.
"Pony? You coming?" Soda says.
"Sure." He only hesitates a moment before responding. Progress.
We walk to the DX, chatting along the way. The kid is quiet. He barely says a word, but when he does, it's coherent and clearly well thought out. He seems smart. Like really smart. Like Darry level smart. Maybe even more than that.
When we get to the DX, we start talking about school. I've given up trying to get Soda to come back with me. It was always a losing battle. Once Sodapop has set his mind to something, you'll be hard pressed to change it.
"What about you kid?" Soda asks.
"Huh?" Pony says, looking confused.
"Are you registered for school yet? Starts next week," I say with a grimace.
"Um, no I'm not going."
"Not going? You're thirteen! You have to go!" Soda says.
"I mean … who would register me? I don't think they'd accept me if I just walked in and demanded they let me into their school. Besides, you're sixteen and you're not going. Why should I?"
"Because you're a kid! You need to spend time with other people your age!" I say.
"You're not going to end up anywhere good if you quit highschool before it's even started!" Soda adds.
"Okay first of all, I never even finished the fifth grade, so I definitely wouldn't be with people my own age. Secondly, I'm not going to end up anywhere good anyway. Why write essays when I don't have to? And third, I'm plenty capable of teaching myself anything I need to know."
"You can't just teach yourself whatever you want! That's not how it works!" I cut in.
"I can and I have. I've been able to tackle any subject from math to history to art, and achieve a certain level of comprehension. Except maybe geography. I'm really bad at geography." He winces at the thought.
Soda and I stare at him. From anyone else that comment would sound cocky, but not Ponyboy. He almost sounds ashamed. Just then an old woman walks through the door, her cane clacking loudly against the tile.
We don't talk about school again.
We spend the rest of the day like that. Soda and I work while Pony silently observes. He seems wary of every customer that enters the shop. His eyes don't leave them from the moment they walk through the door to the moment they exit. Even the nice old ladies get scowled at. Perhaps them most of all.
Who knows? Maybe he just hates old people?
When we walk back to Soda's house, the whole gang is there. Darry is cooking dinner while everyone else is playing card games in the living room. Soda and I join the circle, Dally dealing us into the game. I look up expecting to see Ponyboy standing awkwardly by the door or maybe slowly inching towards us. I don't see him. He isn't in the living room, but I know he's somewhere in the house; I can hear his voice.
"Would you like some help? I'm not a bad cook."
"No, you don't have to help me! Why don't you go hang out with the boys?" Darry pauses. "I mean, of course you can help me if you'd like!" he adds.
"I spent all day with them. I'll help you make dinner," Pony responds.
For some reason, him walking into the kitchen and offering to help Darry cook gives me an intense sense of pride. He's offering to help someone, not because he has to or because that's what's expected, but because he's a good person. And the fact that he stayed and helped, even when Darry said he could leave if he wanted, proves that he isn't just doing it for show.
None of us ever offer to help Darry cook. I mean sure, Soda makes breakfast every other day but he considers it a chore, and he lets everyone know that he hates it. I feel a little guilty about how much we take from the Curtises. And we never really give them anything back.
The more I think about it the worse I feel. Darry already has enough to deal with without the added stress of feeding us and housing us every day. And Soda works more than most adults. He's only sixteen.
In that moment, I realize how hard Darry works and how little he asks for in return. We really should help him more.
Darry POV
I can't help but stare at the kid. He's the only person who's ever offered to help me cook. It's an odd feeling to be out cooked by a thirteen-year-old boy. I've always been the best cook of the gang.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?" I ask.
"I sort of taught myself. I checked a bunch of cookbooks out from the library and experimented with all sorts of foods," he responds, swiftly peeling the potatoes. "I used to cook for my brother, we'd eat dinner together every night." He's quiet for a moment, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I haven't really cooked in a few years but I miss it. I've always enjoyed cooking."
"Yeah?" I say. "I don't dislike cooking, but I definitely prefer it when the food is made for me," I joke. "Sodapop hates cooking. Gosh you should see him when he has to make breakfast! You'll never see Soda as mad as when I make him cook. He says all the foods are just too boring. He used to add food coloring to everything but even that lost its appeal after our parents died.
"When we were children, he used to sit on the counter, adding little drops of food coloring to everything my mom made. He had so much fun but it took my mom quite a while to figure out why all of our food was coming out of the oven orange. Eventually, she realized what was happening and the two of them started working together. They tried to make each meal as colorful as it could be." I smile at the memory, remembering my carefree little brother before the world slapped him in the face with a harsh dose of reality. My smile fades when I think about how different my life is now. "After Mom and Dad died … things changed. We still keep food coloring in our house all the time, but it's been months since I've had a blue breakfast." I pause another moment, unsure if I should continue. Ponyboy has stopped working, instead he stares at his hands, a sad look on his face. "I miss them," I say. He looks at me then, his expression one of sympathy and understanding.
He clears his throat, beginning to chop the potatoes with steady hands. "I know how you feel. Life … it can change without warning. And you never really notice the good parts until they're gone. I never really thought about how much fun I had cooking until I stopped. But now … I remember. I'm happy to be able to cook again, to use my hands, to make something for someone else. Thank you for letting me help you with this," he says. "And I also think it's important to remember that even though some things change, you don't have to lose the things that you enjoy. Maybe all Sodapop needs is a drop of coloring in his breakfast. Maybe he can stop wishing for the way things used to be and start enjoying the way things are." He pauses. "And that doesn't mean we need to move on, it just means we should all try to move forward." He says the words in a rush and I wonder where the heck this thirteen-year-old boy learned to be so compassionate.
Rather than continuing this difficult conversation, I bump into his shoulder saying, "You can cook with me any time. I enjoy the company." We keep the conversation light until dinner is ready.
After we eat dinner, the others discuss their plans. Surprisingly, no one has anywhere else to be so we agree to go down to the lot.
As we walk away from our house, Two-Bit and Dally run ahead of everyone, passing the football back and forth, cackling and bantering. Ponyboy and Johnny follow close behind, walking in companionable silence. Soda and Steve hang back with me.
I wonder why they're not up ahead, goofing off with the other two. Steve starts talking before I can ask. "Darry," he says. "Can I ask you a favor?"
"That depends … What kind of favor?"
"It's about the kid."
"Okay…" I drag out the last letter. "What kind of favor?" I repeat.
"You see, he isn't registered for school."
"Oh?" I say, unsure of where he's going with this.
"I was wondering if maybe you'd enroll him? You're the only one of us who knows how to do that and you're an adult, you can pose as his parent or something. And then he–"
"Woah, woah, woah. I'm not his dad or guardian or anything. Legally, I can't register him for public school. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's too late to sign anyone up."
"That can't possibly be true! I know of four kids, four, that moved into our school months into the school year. Even if he has to start a little late or something, I still think he deserves the chance to learn."
"Still. I am not his guardian. I have no power over him or his education. I agree that he needs to learn, but you need papers, official documents, signatures … It's such a specific process. I just can't sign him up."
"Please, Darry?" Soda finally speaks. "He's such a good kid, he deserves an education. You know Mom and Dad would do it if they were here."
That makes me pause. Soda knows just how to get into my head. And he is right. The kid deserves an education. I watch him up ahead, laughing with Johnny and I think about dinner. He taught himself to cook.
"Okay, look," I sigh. "I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to the school. I'm making no promises and I expect you two to talk to him about it. We don't even know if he wants to do that, if he's even hanging around for the rest of the school year. And just so you know, I'm not doing it for you. He definitely deserves an education. And he's smart, I wouldn't be surprised if he could jump right in with the rest of his grade."
"Thank you, Darry. I'm sure he'll be thrilled!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm still not making any promises."
"I'm definitely not an outrageous school advocate, but this kid's something different, man. He could be going places. He could get out."
We're silent for a moment, thinking about what Steve just said. Ponyboy really is special. We've all seen it. We're seeing it now, watching him with Johnny. Nobody makes Johnny laugh like that. Even Dally is smiling, looking young for once. There's something about the kid that just makes us all remember our age. We're just kids ourselves, barely older than him.
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