(Darry POV)
Making my way back from the social service office, I couldn't help but feel a bit lighter. The supervisor of Soda's social worker had called me in and wanted to let me know that my background check had passed and that barring anything crazy on the home inspection on Monday, Soda would be in my custody sometime next week. She knew how anxious I was about getting Soda, so she had let me start filling out the paperwork today to try and expedite the process and get Soda home sooner. I had been working my ass off since I turned eighteen to try and get custody of my brothers, and now it seemed like I was finally going to have one with me. Now all I needed to do was find the other one.
After we had finished discussing Sodapop, I had asked the supervisor to look into the whereabouts of Ponyboy. She had stepped out of the office for a few minutes and returned with a perplexed look on her face.
"I don't see anybody with the name Ponyboy Curtis in our files" she said.
I had pretty much been expecting that. The other supervisor that I talked to, or tried to talk to since she hardly answered the phone, had told me the same thing. There was no Ponyboy Cutris in their records.
But she had promised to look into it further, which was more than what that other supervisor had done. I watched as she neatly wrote down Pony's full name and birthday on a sticky note and tucked it into a folder. While I still didn't have answers, I felt like she actually would look into it and maybe find some answers for me.
I couldn't suppress a smile as I drove home. Soda was almost home and I had someone finally looking into finding Pony. Things seemed to be looking up for the Curtis family.
Now I just needed to find out what to do with the kid. I would figure out a way to help, I couldn't just send him on his way or turn him over to social services. But I'd have to figure it out fast, because Soda would be coming home soon. I couldn't do anything that might jeopardize me finally getting custody.
As I stomped up the porch, I heard the kid laughing. I don't know why, but the sound of that laugh made something stir in my chest. There was just something about this kid. Something about him that pulled me to him. Shaking my head to try and clear it, I open the door and see the two of them sitting on the floor, cards spread between them on the coffee table.
I knew we needed to sit down and talk about what had happened in the car earlier. The stark fear that was evident on the kid's face was enough to confirm that the kid was in deep trouble, and likely in over his head. But hearing the kid laugh in the living room with Two Bit, I didn't want to ruin that moment just yet. The kid had been a bundle of nerves since I had found him, this was the first time I had seen him lose that apprehensive look, the weary suspicion in his eyes replaced with amused humor at Two Bit's antics.
"You know that Two Bit has an ace in his sleeve, right?" I asked, sitting down in my recliner.
The kid looked at me, a small smile still on his face. "I know. The other ace already fell out of his other sleeve"
Two Bit huffed indignantly and swiped the ace out, waving it in front of him.
"I was just trying to teach the kid a lesson about how to spot cheaters. Teach him what to look for, ya dig?"
I chuckled at his logic.
"Well kiddo, it's been fun. But I gotta head out to the races and then find myself a real card game" Two Bit said, ruffling the kid's hair as he passed. He didn't notice the kid flinch at his touch, but I sure did.
I followed Two Bit out to the porch while the kid started to clean up the cards.
"Is everything all good at the social service office? Two Bit asked.
I couldn't help but smile as I answered "Yeah, it's all good. Seems like Soda will be home sometime next week."
Two Bit returned the grin and clapped me on the back.
"We'll have to throw him a big welcome home party!"
Two Bit has always been a good friend to me. He's a goof, but he can be serious when I need him to be. We met when I got placed with Tom and Maria. He knows all about the struggle of trying to get my brothers back. He always knows how to lighten the mood. Like how he was able to break through a bit to the kid inside and get him laughing. I really am thankful to have a buddy like Two Bit Matthews.
He waved goodbye and I headed back in. The kid had cleaned up all the cards and was still just sitting on the floor, flipping the deck over slowly in his hands.
Knowing I needed to talk to him, but also wanting it to seem like I wasn't lecturing him or scare him off, I racked my brains on how to start this.
"Want to help me make some dinner?" I ask.
He looks up and gives a small nod "Sure. But I don't really know how to cook."
"That's okay" I say easily.
We make our way to the kitchen together. I figured I would talk as we cooked, give the kid something to do with his hands beside pick at his nails while we figured out what to do.
I give him a bowl filled with potatoes and set him to washing and peeling them while I start seasoning some chicken.
"We need to talk about what happened" I try to say as gently as I can. I'm not really known to be gentle, more like gruff and direct, but I can tell this kid is more sensitive and I don't want to upset him.
He doesn't say anything but he gives me a small nod. Figuring he's not going to say anything just yet, I continue on.
"Your foster father, he roughed you up, didn't he?" His shoulders tense up at the mention of him but he gives another small nod.
"Something else happened too. Something must have happened to make you run, and him to be hunting you down, right?" I try to keep my voice soft, almost like I'm talking to a wounded animal.
The kid doesn't look at me but he jerks his shoulder, giving a noncommittal shrug. His eyes are staring at the potato that he's holding, slowly and carefully peeling it.
"I can't help you unless I know what we're dealing with"
Another beat of silence and then "I still don't get why you even care about helping me".
Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I care so much myself. I really don't know what's compelling me to help this kid, this stranger, or why I feel so attached, protective almost, to this kid that I met less than 24 hours ago. It almost feels like fate to meet him, that I was always supposed to find him in that dirty house, cold and scared, and help him.
Now it's my turn to shrug. "I just do, kid. It ain't right, leaving a kid alone and scared when they're in trouble."
He's still looking at me a bit suspiciously so I add "And I can't really explain it, but something's telling me that you need my help, and I need to be the one to help you". He thinks this over for a moment and quickly glances up at me. I met his eyes for the briefest of seconds but I think I might have seen just a little bit of trust in them.
"I am in trouble" he whispers, staring down at the bowl of potatoes he's finished peeling.
I reach out to him slowly, slow enough for him to move away if he's scared, and turn his chin to face me. His eyes, big and green, meet mine.
"I don't want you to be in trouble too" he says softly.
"You can tell me what happened and we'll figure something out, I promise"
He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath.
"He...He's real bad." the kid says, his voice barely above a whisper.
He's looking at me again and he looks so scared that I want to pull him to me, to hug him and let him know he's safe here. But I'm worried the kid will get scared, like he does pretty much every time he's touched. I nod, trying to get him to continue.
"He sells drugs. To dealers. He's real high up, dealers were always coming by the house to buy from him."
My heart sinks. This poor kid, having to be around all those shady characters.
"Last week, a deal went..went bad. There was a fight and the dealer ended up dead. Mr. Moore, he killed him." The kid had shut his eyes again, his arms crossed tight across his chest, like he was trying to protect himself from the memories.
My thoughts were swirling. I know I had told the kid I would help him, but I didn't think he was caught up in drugs and murder.
"I didn't see it. But I heard it. And then I saw him and his brother drag the guy out and put him in the trunk of the car" the kid went on in a shaky voice. "And then yesterday, he was starting in on me. He was knocking me around, rougher than he usually is, and I..I told him I'd go to the cops if he didnt leave me alone."
I couldn't help myself, I put my hand on the kid's shoulder and started to gently rub circles. He stiffened up at my touch at first and then relaxed, he even seemed to be leaning into my touch a little. My heart ached for the boy in front of me, and for all he had to suffer through.
"I said I'd get him arrested. Tell them about what he did last week. But I was just scared that he was going to hurt me, that's why I said it!'' he said desperately, like he needed to convince me somehow.
"It's okay," I tried to soothe. "I'd be scared too."
He took another deep breath "He really started to beat on me once he figured out that I knew. He had me pinned and he was trying to get out his knife…but I got away. I got out and I ran."
"And then you found me." he says looking up at me.
'Thank God I did' I think to myself. It sounds like this kid would be dead if his foster father got his hands on him again.
"Glory kid" I say, running a hand through my hair. "I'm glad you got away from that asshole."
"So, what do you think I should do?" he asks slowly.
How the hell should I know what to do? What do I know about drug deals gone wrong and running from murders? But then I look at the kid standing in front of me. This boy with bruises on his face, who couldn't weigh a hundred pounds even if he was soaking wet, not even a teenager, and realize just how badly he needs me. This kid is in way over his head with a problem so big there's no way he could fix it on his own. Lucky for him, I've always been good at fixing things.
"For starters, you need to lay low for a bit. It's not safe for you to be out right now, you can stay here while we figure out a plan." I say, starting to make a mental checklist of how to keep this kid safe.
"And you can't go to the cops?" I ask him.
He shakes his head, "No, his brother is a cop."
Dirty cop, I think in disgust. He's supposed to protect people instead he helped his brother kill someone and terrorize a poor kid.
Dally pops into my head. He has quite the record with the cops and was involved in some pretty heavy stuff up in New York before he moved down here. If there's anyone who might know what to do, it'd be Dallas.
"Okay, like I said, you're staying here until we figure out what to do. I'll have Dally come by tomorrow, you can tell him what happened and we'll see if he knows what to do."
"You'll really let me stay? Even after I told you that he's after me?" the kid asks, looking at me with what looks like hope in his eyes.
"You can stay until we figure out what to do. It can't be forever though, I still gotta try to get my brothers home" I try to say as gently as possible, not trying to squash the hope I'd seen in his eyes "But I ain't sending you back out to the streets with that lunatic after you. Not until we can make sure you'll be somewhere safe."
"Thanks Darry" the kid says sincerely.
"No problem, kid. You'll be safe here, I promise."
The kitchen feels thick with emotion, to try and break up the tension I get back to cooking. The kid follows my lead and the two of us work together to throw the rest of the meal together. The heavy tension seems to dissipate as we work, making light small talk as we finish and then sit down at the table. We talk about school and he tells me likes English and drawing. We keep the conversation simple and light.
After dinner, the kid helped me with the dishes again while I covered the leftovers. I always make extra in case one of the guys comes by. Nobody had stopped in tonight though, I figured they were all at the drag races that Dallas had mentioned that morning.
The kid took me up on my offer to wash his clothes. His shirt still had blood on the collar and the jeans still had some mud caked near his ankles. He changed into the clothes I had lent him last night after another shower. I watched as he carefully took something from his jean pocket before handing the dirty clothes over to me. I tossed his clothes in with my work clothes from the day before, figuring to just move them to the dryer right before bed. I'd been concerned after he told me about the beating he got from his foster father yesterday, but he waved me off when I asked if he wanted me to check him over.
The two of us settled on the couch while waiting for the washer to finish it's cycle. The kid seemed a bit more comfortable with me now, like he was starting to trust me a bit. I put on the television, an old western movie was playing. The two of us watched for a bit when I suddenly felt a weight against my arm. Looking over, I saw the kid had fallen asleep, his head dropping against me. I smiled softly down at him, once again marveling that such a young kid had gone through so much. He looked so peaceful. I didn't want to move in case it woke him up, so I just sat still with his head leaning against my side until the washer buzzed. I gently shifted him on the couch so that he was laying down. I grabbed the extra pillow and blanket, lifting his head and sliding the pillow underneath. Then I took the blanket and covered him with it. I lightly brushed the hair off his forehead, quietly wishing him good night as I made my way down the hall to switch the laundry and then back to my room.
Laying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the kid. And just how much he reminded me of Pony. I had the oddest feeling when I looked into his eyes, like I was looking into Ponyboy's eyes. But this kid couldn't be Ponyboy. The hair was wrong and he looked too young. Not only that, but the fact that he didnt recognize me at all and he'd said he didn't have any siblings.
Just because he wasn't Ponyboy though, didn't mean I wasn't going to look out for him. It sounded like this kid needed someone in his corner, someone to take care of him. And until we got this mess figured out for him, I was going to be one to take care of him.