(Soda )
I've never been a morning person. Especially when I have to wake up early and go to work of all places. But every Saturday morning I happily take the opening shift at DX because my older brother comes down to hang out before we get too busy. He works long hours during the week so Saturdays mornings are all we really have to be together. That is until he's able to get custody of me, then I can work whatever shift I want and know that I'll be able to see my brother when I get home. My heart aches at the thought.
I know Darry has been working hard to get custody of me. But we've finally been making some progress and my social worker is meeting with him in two days. She's pretty decent for a social worker and she says she thinks as long as this meeting goes well, I'll probably get to be with Darry soon, maybe even by Christmas.
I go through the motions of opening the DX and then sit behind the counter and wait for something, anything, to happen. I turn on the radio and bounce my leg. I drum my fingers on the counter. If there's anything worse than having to wake up early, it's having to wake up early and be bored.
Longer than I would've liked though, I'm freed from my boredom. A familiar truck pulls into the parking lot and I walk out the doors to meet my brother in the parking lot. I run and crush him into a hug. Most greasers would probably be embarrassed to be seen hugging their brother, or anyone really, like this. But after everything we've been through, I never take being able to hug my brother for granted. And from the way Darry hugs me back just as tight, I know he feels the same way too.
"Hey little buddy" he says, giving me a hard pat on the back before pulling away. "How's it going?"
"A lot better now that you're here" I tell him with a smile as we make our way back into the DX.
"Steve coming in later?"
"Yep. He comes in at 10"
"Tuff enough" Darry says, leaning against the counter. He asks me how I've been and I fill him on the happenings of the group home I'm staying at. The couple who runs the group home for "troubled" boys are an older couple, strict but nice enough. They don't use belts or bottles or cuss us out if we do wrong. But they ain't afraid to lock your ass up and keep you grounded in the house if you step out of line. There's nine boys total there, and while we are all labeled "trouble", most of us have just had it rough in the system and got a trouble label stamped in big red letters on our file.
I got marked as a "flight risk" at a young age because I was always running away to try and find my brothers. And when I dropped outta school when I turned 16, that's when the state deemed me a trouble kid, despite my social worker trying to explain all the times I ran and that I dropped out to get a job since I was only passing gym and auto mechanics anyway.
While I really didn't have anything exciting to fill Darry in on, he listened with rapt attention, seeming to just soak being able to sit and talk with me. Eventually a customer came in and I had to fill her up tank. As I walked back in I saw Darry try to stifle a big yawn.
"Am I boring you with my presence?" I tease.
"I don't think there's a soul alive who would ever describe you as "boring" Sodapop" he counters "I just had a late night last night."
"Oh a late night. And which lady was it keeping you up late last night?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows so he knows what I mean.
"There was no lady, you dope" he snarks, but I can tell he's fighting back a smile.
"No it's actually something I want to talk to you about" he says, more serious than before. "I had to go back to my work site late last night, and I found this kid hiding out there. Poor kid was soaked, and it looked like someone had beat the hell outta him, can't be older than eleven or twelve."
"Shit. He okay?"
I felt something surge in my chest. I hated knowing there were people there who beat on kids, it pissed me the hell off and made me want to go beat some heads in myself.
"Yeah he's okay. I brought him back to the house, let him get cleaned up and sleep on the couch. I dropped him off at the library on my way over, told him I'd swing by and pick him up after seeing you"
I was glad Darry was able to give this kid a safe place to crash last night. I hoped this kid knew how lucky he was that he ran into Darry last night. He didn't like bullies or people who beat on kids either. And he's never been afraid to step in and help a kid who needed it, whether it be by cleaning up a scraped knee or flexing his muscles to scare off a bully.
"Poor kid" I say.
"That's not all" Darry continues grimly "He says his foster father was the one who beat him and now's he's running away. I think he's in some kinda trouble. Something about that man has got the kid downright spooked."
It's like a punch in the gut to hear it's a foster father knocking that kid around. Because I still have a kid brother out there somewhere in the foster system and the thought of someone mistreating him makes my blood boil. Darry must see the look that crosses my face and I know he's thinking about Ponyboy out there somewhere too.
"He says he can't go to his social worker. But I was thinking, maybe I could mention it to your social worker? Mrs. Lawrence has always seemed decent."
"Mention it to her, like you mean you wanna keep him?" I ask, surprised Darry would take that on in the middle of trying to get custody of me and still trying to find out where Pony is.
Darry sighs.
"Nah, I couldn't keep him. It might mess up me being able to get custody of you and Pony" Darry says, looking troubled "but I do want to help him. Maybe Mrs. Lawrence can find a decent spot for him. He'd never make it out on the streets." Darry looks out the front window. He always was one to take on the problems of others, feeling responsible for fixing things. Must be an oldest brother thing.
He looks back at me, "I was thinking maybe you could sneak over tomorrow night around dinner and talk to him. If anyone could convince him to talk to a social worker, it'd be you."
I consider it. I'd be glad to help this kid out, the only trouble would be trying to sneak out. My group home has a strict curfew, we all have to be back by six unless we have explicit permission for work or a school function. But I've been able to hang out at Darry's a few times when Steve's working because he'll cover for me when they call to verify where I am. I glance at the work calendar and see Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow night.
"Sure! Steve'll cover for me and I can come by for a bit" I tell Darry.
"Just what the hell am I covering you for" my best friend asks as he walks through the door. He walks up to the counter, rubbing his arm where Darry had punched him as a form of greeting as he walked past.
"I need to go to Darry's after work tomorrow. Can you tell the Parsons I'm working overtime if they call to check up on me?" I ask Steve, already knowing the answer.
Steve grunts. While to most, he just sounds like a caveman but I know that's his way of saying yes. "Thanks buddy" I say, slinging an arm around his shoulder and giving him a shake.
"Get off me to you goof" he says, straightening his cap "And start doing your damn job!" He points out front where two cars are waiting for a fill up.
Startled at the appearance of the customers I hustle out and shoot them my brightest smile, charming them out of their annoyance at having to wait. More cars start to pull in, needing either gas or service and Steve also gets to work out in the garage. Seems like my work day is officially starting as our usual Saturday rush begins. Darry walks out, giving me a slap on the back and pulling my cap down over my face. I chuckle, fixing it and stick my tongue out at him.
"I'll see you tomorrow Dar. Thanks for coming by" I say.
"Of course Soda. See ya tomorrow kiddo" he says, waving as he starts up the truck.
"Wait!" I call out, running up to the window he rolls down to talk to me.
"Did you talk to her about him? About Pony?" I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
Darry's face tells me what I need to know before he does. "I called, no answer. But I'll try again on Monday Pepsi Cola. I ain't gonna give up until I find him". Darry is a fixer, and I have no doubt he'll fix this too and find our missing brother. I give him a smile, hoping to wipe the look of sadness that settled on his face when I mentioned Ponyboy. He reaches out and squeezes my arm that's leaning on the side of his truck. I squeeze back and tell him goodbye and watch as his truck pulls out of the DX.
Even though I know I'll see him tomorrow, it hurts to see him drive away. It always hurts when we have to go our separate ways. The accident that killed my parents was a grenade that sent shrapnel into my soul, blowing holes into me that I haven't been able to fix. That grenade blew my parents away and my little brother right along with them. Losing Pony hurt me more than losing Mama and Dad. Sometimes when I think about the last time I saw him, banging on the windows and crying out for me and Darry, I feel pain in my heart so bad I wonder if I need actual medical attention.
And as much as I like to think of Ponyboy, to keep a piece of him with me, I know if I let my thoughts dwell on him too long I'll fall down into a pit of despair so deep that I don't know if I can claw my way out of it. So turning my thoughts from the scared little boy with green eyes, I focus on work, mess around with Steve, and flirt with all the pretty girls coming into the DX.
A few hours later, Steve and I are hanging out in the garage and I explain to him about the foster boy Darry has at the house and how he wants me to come talk to him. Steve knows all about me and my brothers, and I know he can see the hurt I'm trying to hide underneath the surface. And like the good buddy he is, Steve tries to take my mind off it.
"There's a drag race out at that tracks tonight. Bet we can snag a car, win us a few bucks" Steve says a with a mischievous grin.
Steve is a fast driver. I know if I'm sitting shotgun with him at the wheel, it'll drive the thoughts of beaten foster kids and lost little brothers out of my mind, at least for the night.
With a smile, I say "You're on".