SADLY, I DO NOT OWN THE OUTSIDERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE AMAZING S.E. HINTON!
Author's Note: Happy Sunday! Hope everyones having a good weekend. Still busy with dance camp, but it's really fun! I appriciate you guys and your reviews sooo much, thank you all! There are at least 30 people, though, who have this on their story alert list or favorites, and have never reviewed! Please, please review, it helps me do better :)
I'm glad everyone liked Steve's POV so much, I'll probably have it again next chapter. I'm going to do everyone's POV eventually, and not just the gangs, I'll have Nathan's sometimes, too. This chapter has Johnny's ;)
Betty Lou (aka Julianne): Yes, I thought I'd throw in a little Steve to satisfy you. *Gushes* *sarcastic ornix* (don't ask)
Johnnylover22: Aww, thanks, Jazmine! I'm very, very honored that you would start your own account cause of me! I will keep writing :) It will be a tear jerker, but towards the middle/end. I appriciate the review!
MetroHarbor: Thanks! and yayy, you're reading my story, you're my favorite author!
On with the story! Hope you like it!
At The End Of The Road, Chapter 7: Support and Sunrise
DARRY'S POV
I sat up, stiff and sore, on the small cot in Pony's room. I stretched and yawned, noticing Pony was still asleep.
"Morning, Pony," I whispered, gently touching his hand. He looked better than he did yesterday. Sick, but better. I stood up and looked at my watch. 8:00! How'd sleep so late? I usually woke up around 5 to get to work, not even using an alarm. Ughh. I hated sleeping late, it made me even tireder. I felt guilty about leaving Pony alone while going to call Soda and get breakfast, until I noticed Maggie asleep in a chair. I shook my head. That women deserves a medal or something.
I stumbled out of the cubicle and into the bright hallway. The white light nearly blinded me. I went into the bathroom to wash up, making a mental note to myself to call Soda, and ask him to bring me a change of clothes. I had been wearing the same jeans and T-shirt since yesterday.
I went to the cafeteria, ordered a cup of black coffee and a doughnut, and collapsed into a chair to eat it. The coffee was terrible, but it woke me up, at least. I started thinking more clearly. Alright. Soda and the gang would probably come around in a half-hour or so. Soda would try to convince me to go home and rest, as I had done to him the night before, but I wasn't leaving. Even though Ponyboy's chemo had gone reasonably well, except the headaches, I still had a terrible fear that something would gone wrong, I wouldn't be here, and he would die without the chance to say a goodbye. I just couldn't let that happen.
That was my fear. Losing what little foundation our family had left. A terrible sadness welled up inside of me. We had lost our parents and we barely got through that. My relationship with my brothers had deteriorated since then. I could only imagine what it would be like if we lost Pony. The house would be quiet. No books strewn about the living room, no shoes lying all over the kitchen floor. No Ponyboy to drive to school, to the library. No Ponyboy to pick up from track. No Ponyboy to be proud of. To yell at, to fight with, to be my brother.
God, what is wrong with me? I can't let my guard down, be seen as weak. I'm Darry Curtis, a responsible adult who needs to go pay bills and work and take care of his brothers, not sit here going soft about his kid brother, who will be fine. I'm tough and not worried and... just as lost as the rest of us.
I want my parents. I want an adult. I want somebody who will take responsibility for this mess so I can go be a kid. Go to college and play football and have a girlfriend and get drunk. But that's somebody else's life, not mine, and I have to take full responsibility for my own.
I threw out my trash, slid a couple of quarters into the pay phone in the hallway, and dialed. Moments later, a sleepy voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Two-Bit? God, please don't tell me you just woke up."
"Ummm, no."
"Sure. You guys gonna come down here?"
"Course, Darry. We'll leave in like, 10 minutes. Some of us just need to wake up a little..." He yawned. I rolled my eyes.
"Kay. Can I talk to Soda?"
"Sure, hang on." I heard him bellow in the background, " SODAPOP! PHONE!" I heard shuffling and muttering then Soda answered.
"Darry?" It didn't sound like my happy, bouncy, easygoing brother at all. His voice was throaty and scratchy and... sad. He had probably cried himself to sleep last night. He did after Pony fell asleep the night before he started chemo. It broke my heart. If we lose Pony, we lose Soda. I didn't want him to turn into one of the pale, depressed people, merely a shadow of a human being. I was going to end this now.
"Soda," I said, trying to make my tone as gentle as possible, instead of annoyed. "You sound horrible. Did you get any sleep last night?"
"I tried, Darry, I really did. But I couldn't sle-"
"No, you didn't want to sleep. You were afraid to sleep because of Pony. Pony's fine. You can't stop living, you gotta focus on yourself, too. Ponyboy will flip when he sees you looking like you've been run over by a truck. Just loosen up some."
"You're one to talk. You need to come him and shower and eat some real food."
"You're not in charge here. Go get ready. And bring me a change of clothes, would ya?"
"Darry-"
"The phone's running out of time. See you later."
I hung up and went back to Pony's room, shaking my head. Dr. Mitchell was talking to a groggy, half-awake Ponyboy when I entered.
"Hey kiddo, how you feeling?"
"I'm okay."
There was a strained silence. I think we were both remembering the last conversation we'd had. Dr. Mitchell cleared his throat.
"Morning, Darrel. How you doing?"
"Fine, thanks. You?"
"Fine, fine..." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm here to discuss the results of Ponyboy's blood tests."
My stomach tightened. "You mean the cause of his headaches?"
"Yes."
"Is it bad?"
He looked thoughtful. "Well, I wouldn't call it good, but it's not the worse thing that could happen, either. Ponyboy has anemia. It's slightly more severe then were used to seeing, but not horrible. He's getting headaches because anemia is when someone has a lack of blood in their body. Since there is a lack of blood, it can't spread to the whole body, including not as much blood can get to his head. Not enough blood in the head can cause dizziness and headaches. We're going to give him a couple of blood transfusions. Do you or Sodapop or one of your friends have type A+ blood?
"I don't know, sir. You can check us when they come in a few minutes."
20 minutes later, everyone was getting tested. 20 minutes after that, we had the results. I was type A-, Soda was O+, Two-Bit was B+, Johnny was O+, and Dally was AB+. That left Steve. Coincidently, guess who was type A+?
Steve.
JOHNNY'S POV
I woke up in the armchair. Through the window, I saw that the sun was starting to rise. I was the only one awake, so I quietly slipped out of the house and sat on the porch to watch.
It was beautiful. The sky was a pearly pink, and the sun was a flaming orange. The clouds were rimed with gold. The world was peaceful and quiet. I liked sunrises because Mrs. Curtis used to say "The sunrise means a whole new day, with new opportunities. You never know what to expect."
I liked that quote, it made me think that anything could happen. My parents would suddenly care about me, I would move to the country, I would get good at school, anything. Not that any of that would happen, but it was nice to think about.
Pony liked sunrises, too. After Mrs. Curtis died, I wanted to stop watching sunsets. Her quote kept mocking me: "You never know what to expect." We didn't expect them to die, that's for sure. Ponyboy said his Mom would want us to keep watching them. The gang thought we were crazy, but we still watched them every morning.
I'm afraid of losing Pony. I think I would lose myself if he died, because I really would be alone, have no one to talk to. I can't talk to the gang, or frankly, anyone, like I do to Ponyboy. He tells me everything, and I tell him everything. Everyone thinks I'm quiet, and I suppose it's true. I don't talk much to other people because I worry about saying something stupid, and I guess I'm shy, too. I can talk to Pony for hours, though because he thinks like me, so I don't have to worry about sounding stupid.
A icy voice broke into my thoughts, "Johnny? Johnnycakes, you out there?" Dally.
I scrambled inside. "I'm here, Dally."
"What were you doing out there, watching the sunset?" He smirked. I nodded.
"Kid, I swear, I will never get how you and Ponyboy watch those things. Ain't nothing interesting about them."
I didn't know how to answer to that, so I just headed into the kitchen to make some breakfast.
The house slowly came to life. Soda came in, looking horrible. He wasn't taking this real well. I hoped Darry straightened him out before he saw Ponyboy. He would be furious at him for not taking care of himself and for worrying too much about him. Steve woke up and attempted to make a chocolate cake. Let's just say that the Curtis's will probably need a new stove soon. Two-Bit slept until the phone woke him up, and he answered it.
It was Darry. He talked to Two-Bit and Soda for a little. It didn't go over well.
"Hello? Darry? No, you didn't let me explain... Hello? D*** it..." He hung up.
"What's up?"
He looked annoyed. "So, he keeps telling me that I need to stop worrying, when he's the one who hasn't left the hospital yet. I swear, we are going to get him out of there if its the last thing we do.
I agreed with Soda, I thought, as we drove to the hospital. Darry needed to get home and get some rest. He needed to get used to it, both him and Soda were starting work again on Monday.
When we got to the hospital, we were greeted in the lobby of the oncology ward by Darry, accompanied by a doctor.
"Hey guys, this is Dr. Mitchell, Pony's doctor. Listen, Ponyboy needs a couple of blood transfusions. Would you be willing to get your blood tested?"
I was, I didn't know about everyone else, but we couldn't exactly say no, could we? Dr. Mitchell drew our blood. I clutched the edges of the metal table as the needle slid into my muscle. Tough, right? I can handle a whipping from my old man and still stand the next day, and I shy away from a small sliver of metal. I clenched my teeth, though, and didn't say a word.
We got the results back 20 minutes later. Pony was A+. I was O+. Steve was the only one with A+. I had a bad feeling about that. Ponyboy and Steve had a kind of love/hate relationship. Actually, a little more on the hate side. Defiantly on the hate side. Oh, boy.
Steve was looking murderous. Soda sensed that and kicked us all out to talk to him. Darry led the way to Pony's room. He paused outside.
"We only got ten minutes to visit, so make it fast, alright? And don't get all freaked out, I know there are a ton of machines, but just ignore them, savvy?"
"No sweat, Darry." Two-Bit said, punching his shoulder. Darry opened the door and we went in. Ponyboy was lying in a large white hospital bed, hooked up to I.V.s and a heart moniter. My mouth was dry. He looked bad off. He was leaning back on his pillows, but grinned when he saw us.
"Hey!"
"Hey kid!" Two-Bit bounded over. "How's the hospital treating you? Met any girls yet?"
"Two-Bit!" Ponyboy complained indignantly.
"Well, hey, you never know, kid."
Dally came in. "Well, if it isn't Ponyboy Curtis." He lightly punched his shoulder. "Whatcha been up to, kid?"
"Lying around in bed. Being bored. I can't wait to just get out of this room."
He saw me standing in the doorway. "Hi Johnnycakes."
"Hey, Pony." I couldn't say anything else with the gang in there, and I didn't have the nerve to ask them to leave. We only had 10 minutes, and I wasn't about to take away visiting time from them.
Darry sat down by Ponyboy's bed. "So, listen kiddo, ya know how you need blood transfusions?" Pony nodded, coughing weakly. Darry looked uncomfortable. "Well, we got tested. One of us is a match. It's, um, Steve."
"Steve?"
"Yeah."
"He probably doesn't want to do it, does he?"
Darry tried to look reassuring. "No, no, he's fine with it, Pone." He said, unconvincingly. "He's glad about it."
"Then why isn't he here?"
Even Darry couldn't think of an answer to that one. Two-Bit broke in. "He just doesn't know what to think of it, Pony. I mean, it's no secret that you two ain't exactly tight... don't worry about it, ya dig?"
He nodded, coughing again. He looked pale and sweaty, I could tell we were already wearing him out. As if on schedule, some nurse- I think her name was Maggie or something- came in and told us visiting time was up. Ponyboy was already dozing off, anyway, so we said goodbye and left.
Once we were in the hallway, we convinced Darry to come home with us. He didn't look happy about it, but he agreed. To be honest, I think he was just too tired to argue. We found Soda and Steve in the hallway. Apperantly, Steve had been talked into donating a pint of blood. He didn't look as if he regretted it, he just looked...awkward about it. We didn't talk to him about it, it would probably irritate him. Soda decided to stay with Pony for awhile.
Darry was practically falling asleep standing up. Two-Bit talked him into letting him drive (Lord, help us,) and we were home in about 5 minutes. Thanks to Two-Bit for running at least 3 red lights.
We all went our seperate ways once we got back to the neighborhood. Dally headed down to Buck's, muttering something about "business." I could only guess what that meant, but I could sure hope it didn't mean jail time for him again. Steve went to the DX for his afternoon shift. Two-Bit had to go home to baby-sit his kid sister, Nancy, and Darry had a meeting with Ponyboy's principal.
I sure wasn't about to head home, so I went down to the vaccant lot. I leaned against a tree in the corner, pulled out a packet of Kools, and tried to make sense of all this.
SODA'S POV
"A support group? A f****ing support group?"
It was Sunday night, 6 pm. The day had a tiring, end-of -the-day feel to it. Ya know, the feeling of going to bed on a Sunday night, and having school the next day. It was dusk out the window, and everything was dark blue and hazy in the sky.
It had been a weird couple of days, I think this whole routine is gonna take a little while to get used to. We had to get our blood tested for Pony's transfusions yesterday, and Steve was the only match. He was really weird about it, all shifty and akward-like, and he wouldn't tell me why. Once Dr. Mitchell left to get all the equipment, I asked him what was wrong, and he just shook his head. When Steve is upset about something, he shuts everyone out and won't let anybody in, not even me. Go figure. Everyone went home after that, except I stayed with Pony. We talked and laughed and told stories- for like 10 minutes. He crashed after that. I stayed with him last night, too, and made Darry go home. It was a rough night; they attempted to give him something to eat for dinner, and he was up half the night throwing up. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep, which is why I was in such a bad mood right now.
Also, we were starting our "normal" schedule tomorrow. Neither of us were sleeping here tonight (Pony insisted) and we were going to work tomorrow. Darry was as uptight as ever, insisting that the hospital call every couple of hours with an update, and to call immediately if anything went wrong. I was worried too, but Pony insisted that he would be fine. He was moving into his new room tomorrow.
Today went pretty good, the gang dropped in few a while and we played a couple rounds of poker. Darry and I just hung out here for the rest of the afternoon, until Darry informed me of the news: We were now expected to join a support group. A support group. Now, it may be just me, but when I hear the words "support group," I picture a bunch of people sobbing into tissues, bawling about how bitterly unfair their lives are and how it's a struggle to get up each morning. I defiantly don't want to be a part of that, and that's just what I told Darry.
"C'mon, Soda, don't exaggerate. It's not that bad. It's organized by a few doctors and nurses, and it's just some of the families of the patients getting together, discussing the basics, that sort of stuff. I ain't too excited about it, but I can't change that, so I'm just going to go and not complain. Now, are you going to be mature about it and deal with it, or will I be forced to make you behave, like a two-year old?"
"I'll stick with the complaining."
"Fine, be that way. But I'm just saying, I think this would be good for you."
I laughed. "Good for me? I'm fine, there ain't anything wrong with me."
"Whatever you say. We're still going."
Half an hour later, we were sitting in Room 401 of the oncology ward. The meeting room. There were various mismatched plastic chairs arranged in a crooked circle. Darry and I sat down awkwardly, we were the youngst people there.
A short nurse with short blonde hair started. "Hi! I'm Nurse Jones, I'm glad you could all come tonight. I recognize most of you, but if you're new, can you please stand up and introduce yourselves?"
I was hoping she wouldn't say that. Darry and I stood up.
"Uh, hi, I'm Darry Curtis, and this is my brother, Soda."
That Jones lady beamed even wider. "Wonderful! Now, who are you here for?"
I spoke up, "My younger brother, Ponyboy. He has AML."
"Wonderful!" she said again, still smiling. I didn't think it was wonderful at all. I thought this lady was insane and if she said "wonderful" one more time, I was going to seriously injure her. I kicked Darry. He kicked me back.
A couple more people introduced themselves. "David and Sydney McHerfon. Our nephew, James. ALL."
"Katie and Mason Snow. Our brother and brother-in-law, Corey. Brain cancer."
"Miriam and Robert Aljant. Our daughter, Casey. APL."
Smith would beam and say "wonderful" after everyone introduced themselves. I just wanted to get out of here. I was about to make a run for it when she said "Now let's turn it over to our leader, Nurse Roggins."
Everyone clapped. Nurse Roggins looked young, in her early 20s. Hmm. Around Darry's age. I was envisioning them dating, already, but I knew Darry would never go for it.
She talked for most of the class, and we listened. She was actually pretty good. She talked about restoring our faith in God, and moving on with our own lives, too. She called the last five minute for a prayer session, and told us to pray silently.
I didn't really know what to say. I hadn't been to church in a long time. A long, long time. But I gave it a shot, anyway.
Dear God, please help us get through this. Help us be strong and Pony be strong. Give him courage. Please help us keep everything together and not fall apart. Keep us and the gang safe. Thanks for them. Oh, and watch over Mom and Dad. Please. Amen.
PONY'S POV
I was so ready to get out of that room. There was absolutely nothing interesting in it. White bed, white walls, white floors, white bedside cabinet. And a couple of chairs. That was it. I would have read, but I was just too tired. So, basically all I did was sleep.
It was Monday morning, around 8:00. I was finally, finally moving to my new room. Darry and Soda were at work. They had been nervous wrecks last night, especially Darry. It was almost painful to watch, he gave his work and hours and number to every nurse and doctor at least 50 times. I didn't give him a hard time about it, though, I knew he was just worried.
I just wished they would relax some, h***, they're more worried then I am. I mean, I'm scared too, and confused, and all that stuff, but I see no need to waste time sitting around complaining and worrying.
I was nervous about having a roommate. I remember that he looked kind of intimidating. I hoped he wasn't a Soc, I couldn't really tell without the hair and clothes. As long as he wasn't a Soc, though, I think it'll turn out okay. The worse that could happen I'd that he'll ignore me and I was just fine with that.
Dr. Mitchell finally came with the wheelchair. I didn't like it, but it was worth it to get out of that room. I sighed in relief as I rolled out, but that quickly evaporated. We were passing the lobby, and I saw a little girl, around 9 or 10 years old, waiting with her head against her mother's lap. She looked sick, and I knew that to her I just looked like another kid with cancer. I started feeling worthless. People would look at me now and just see me as some poor, pathetic, weak kid. They wouldn't find anything else important. They'll shower me with sympathy. And I hate sympathy.
We arrived outside Room 476. Dr. Mitchell opened the door and pushed me inside. There were no nurses inside, just Nathan.
"Hello, Nathan! How you doing?" Dr. Mitchell said.
"Alright, I guess," said Nathan. He had a tough, bored drawl to his voice, the kind that the gang and I reserved for cops and reporters.
"Good. This here is your roommate, Ponyboy Curtis. Ponyboy, this is Nathan. Nathan Hureed."
Again, he just nodded at me. I nodded back. I got situated, Dr. Mitchell inserted a couple of I.V.s and left. It was just Nathan and I. It was silent. Not an akward silence, just a silence where no one really had anything to say.
"You're names really Ponyboy?" Nathan broke the silence, fiddling with the tape holding down his I.V.
"Yeah."
"Where the h*** did us get a name like that?"
"My Dad. He was pretty original."
"Was?"
"My parents are dead."
He nodded slowly, just nodded. No apology. For some strange reason, I liked that. Ever since they died, people have been saying "God, that's terrible. I'm sorry." I'm sure they were sorry, but I didn't like their sympathy. Nathan didn't show sympathy, but he didn't show pleasure either.
"You're a greaser." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
"Yeah, I'm a greaser. And you?"
"Same."
"What gang do you belong to?"
"I never belonged to one. They took me to foster care only about a week after I moved here. I think I would have been part of The River Kings, thought, cause of where I lived."
"If you don't mind me asking, why were you in foster care?"
"No, I don't mind you asking." He was silent for a minute. "My old man's a drunk. A f***in alcoholic. He beat my old lady. Me too, just not as often. She packed up and left one day. Haven't heard from her since."
I nodded. I didn't apologize. He reminded me of Dally. I remember when I was seven, a ten-year-old Dallas Winston, fresh out of jail, moved to the neighborhood. I remember asking where his parents were. He told me. I said I was sorry. He looked really angry, said "No, kid, I'm the one who's f***ing sorry," and left. I had the feeling that Nathan would have the same reaction.
I was getting tired. I settled back down against my pillows to sleep. I remember just before drifting off, I heard Nathan suddenly say, "Hey, you dig alright."
I grinned. "You, too."
Author's Note: So, do you guys like Nathan? I do! Let me know what you like/dislike about him in a review! Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PONYBOY! It's the 22nd! Watch a sunset tonight in his honor! Haha. I'll probably update next weekend, it's hard to update cause of camp. Also, I'm going to Tenessee in August! Can't wait!
Don't forget to review, please! It doesn't have to be long, I mean, sure I love those long, meaningful reviews, but it doesn't have to be long at all. Again, there are tons of people who follow this story and don't review. You know who you are! Lol. Thanks again, Stay Gold! -Emily
I got info from these websites:
Can Anemia Cause Headaches?
Red Cross: Blood Types
Do siblings Always Have The Same Blood Types?