I didn't sleep for long. I couldn't. Around 5:30 am I finally got out of bed. I slipped out as quietly as I could not wanting to wake up Soda. In your sleep you don't remember your parents being dead. I hoped that both my brothers could just be at peace while they were asleep and not have to feel this pain.

I made it to the kitchen table and sat down. I thought about making some coffee, but it seemed like too much effort and I couldn't get myself to stand up. I just sat at that kitchen table staring at the wall. I wasn't really even thinking. Just staring and feeling the pain of grief.

All of a sudden I was shocked back into the moment by a shrill sound. I jumped at it and then realized the phone was ringing. I'm not sure on the exact time, but I knew it was way too early for anyone to be calling. Maybe this was one of the people the cop said would call. But it seemed too early for that. I picked up the phone on the second ring hoping it didn't wake either brother.

"Hello" I said with a gruff voice. Guess while I was staring I was crying again. I hadn't even noticed, but my voice sure sounded it.

"Hi. Darrel? It's Jim. Not sure if you noticed but there was a bit of a freeze last night. The roads are slick and the roofs are even slicker. Have to cancel work for the day. Can't have anyone falling off of a roof. You and your boy stay home. I gotta call the rest of the crew. I'll see you both on Monday." and then the phone clicked off.

I just stood there holding the phone as the dial tone started up. He thought I was Dad? He didn't even know what happened last night. Of course he didn't know. How could he? It might be in the papers later today but no one would know yet. Would I have to tell our boss that my Dad was gone? I had forgotten that I even had work before that call. Luckily Soda didn't have work today.

Then it hit me. My boss didn't know. No one knew. That meant the gang didn't know about my parents either. With this knowledge a fresh new wave of tears streamed down my face. Would I have to be the one to tell them? I couldn't do that. How would I tell the boys that were as close as brothers that the only present and kind parents they had ever known were gone? I was lucky I hadn't had to tell my brothers, but this would be almost as painful. As the phone prompted me to hang up or redial I finally put the phone back on the hook and sat down at the table.

An hour may have gone by as I just sat there. Crying and staring at the wall once again. My brain was going a mile a minute as I thought about all I had to do and all the unknown and all the pain I would have to witness as each boy found out and the pain I would have to see in my brother's eyes when they woke up and the pain they would probably see in mine.

Even though I was thinking and had so many questions, I couldn't seem to hold on to a single thought. It was like they were passing by in my head and I couldn't hold one to actually make a plan and figure out what to do. I took a shuddering breath and somehow managed to make myself stand up and get a notepad and pen from off the kitchen counter. While I was in the kitchen I also started a pot of coffee. I needed to think. I needed to write down all that was going to happen and all that I was going to do. I needed to get in control of the situation again.

Dad always laughed that I was born to be the oldest. I always wanted to be in control. Even with him I sometimes would be more organized and responsible. Everyone thought that we were brothers and everyone on the crew would joke that I was actually the older one. Dad was just too much like Sodapop and his mantra was always that 'everything would work out.' If he forgot something then it wasn't important. That came back to bite him more often than not, but he had Mom to help out.

I was never like that. I make lists. I write things down. I follow up on tasks. I ask the right questions. That is how I feel in control of situations. I'm not a 'go with the flow' kind of person like Dad or Sodapop. And I needed to take charge of this situation.

So I sat down at the table and started writing. The tears were gone. They were no more. I couldn't be crying and losing control. No emotion. That's what would help. I would make a list of everything that needed to happen. I would write the questions I needed to ask and get the answers from the people in charge. I would be strong for the gang. I would be strong for my brothers. I would be strong for my parents because I was born to be the oldest.

I started writing my list. I made a column for questions for the social worker and another one questions for a funeral and one of just general questions. The page was very quickly filling up. I didn't realize there were so many unknowns about this situation, but once I got all the answers to these questions it would be fine. Everything would be fine.

I wasn't sure what time it was since I couldn't see the kitchen clock from where I was sitting, but I assumed it was about 7:30ish when I heard a bedroom door open and then the bathroom door close. I finally looked up from my list. I looked down the hall, but I already knew it was Ponyboy. He wasn't quite at the 'sleep til noon' teenager phase yet given that he was barely a teen at 13. He still woke up relatively early like a little kid does. Even though it seemed impossible to wake him up for school. I never understood that about kids. They could never wake up for important things, but when you had the freedom to sleep till noon, that's when they wake up at the crack ass of dawn and start watching cartoons. Guess that's why cartoons are always playing early in the morning.

I heard the toilet flush and the sink and then the patter of him walking down the hallway. I wasn't sure if he would go back to his room or if he was going to come find me first. Normally at this time I would be leaving for work with Dad and I wasn't really sure what he did in the mornings. I heard him pause in the hallway and then saw his face peer around the corner and see me at the table.

Boy did he look rough. Those usually big green eyes were completely bloodshot. It almost looked like he had bruises on his face from all the splochiness. He seemed so unsure of what to do as he was still peering around the corner. I put my pencil down and scooted the chair out a bit.

"Come here Ponyboy. I won't bite" I said while opening my arms. This was in control Darry. I had a plan. I had a list and I knew what I needed to do. I was going to be there for my brothers.

Ponyboy ran into my arms and immediately broke down again. I just rubbed his back since that seemed to help last night. I didn't want him to get worked up like last night though and get sick so I just kept telling him to take deep breaths and calm down. He seemed to settle quicker than last night so I was grateful for that. I pulled away and he sat down in the chair right next to me.

He looked down and the ground and then started chewing on his nails. I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do. What do you say to a kid who lost his parents? I tried to think of what I wanted someone to say to me, but I didn't know. There was really nothing to say. But I would love it if someone else could take charge so that's what I could do for him. I was in control Darry and that's what I would do. Take charge so my little brother wouldn't have to worry about it.

I cleared my throat since I didn't want him to know that I had been crying and then asked "do you want some breakfast?" Pony looked up at me. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were still watery and I could read all the pain on his face. He just shrugged. Figured I could take that as a yes and I knew he had to be hungry since he threw up everything last night.

I gave a nod and then stood up and started looking around for what we had to eat. There were eggs and bread so figured I could scramble some up and make some toast. That was a pretty normal breakfast. Soda would be up eventually so I might as well make him some too.

I started cooking and kept glancing at Pony at the table. He kept his head down and continued to bite his nails. I wanted to provide something normal so I asked "what do you usually do on Saturday mornings when we are all at work?" Pony looked up when I spoke but then just shrugged again and looked back down at his feet.

I sighed. I really was not cut out for this. I hardly talked to Pony if I was being honest with myself. There was such an age difference between us that it's not like we had a whole lot in common in our life. Sure we talked to each other like normal siblings, but someone else was always around. It was rarely just me and Pony and he was such a little kid that it's not like I could talk about real world stuff with him. At least with Soda we talked girls or high school or stuff happening around town with the other gangs or the Socs. Pony was too young to really be part of any of that. I wondered what he and Soda talked about. They were real close but it was hard not to be close to Soda. I would say Soda and I were real close too. He was just easy to be close to.

I decided to just not say anything else and went back to cooking. I didn't know how to cook much and was worried about making meals later, but I knew how to make breakfast foods. Those were pretty basic and easy to make. I heard another bedroom door open and hated the way I felt happy that Soda was finally awake. He would take care of the talking. That kid had a talent of always knowing what to say.

Soda ambled in the kitchen and he looked pretty rough too. Not as bad as Pony had, but he had been crying for sure. I wondered then what I looked like. I hadn't checked in the mirror at all this morning. Soda slumped into the chair opposite Ponyboy and then looked over at me.

"Whatcha cooking over there Dar?" I tried to give him a smile but I knew it wasn't a real one "just some eggs and toast. You hungry?" I replied. He tried to smile back "yeah I could eat" and then turned to Pony. "You hungry Pone?" He asked. Pony just looked up at him and shook his head.

I sighed and then dished up three plates and brought them over to the table. "Just try and eat something. Both of you."

Soda dug in and I tried to follow suit and act as normal as possible, but Pony kept chewing at his nails instead of the food. "Ponyboy! Stop that and eat" I tried to direct and point at the plate of food. He sighed and took the smallest bite of toast and then pushed his plate forward.

"That's it? That's all you're eating?" I shot at him. He just shrugged again and brought his thumb back to his mouth.

"Come on Pony! Darry made really good eggs! I'm impressed he even knew how to turn the stove on. You should try them!" Soda commented with forced enthusiasm. I gave him an eye roll at the comment but I knew he was trying to lighten the mood so I let it slide. Ponyboy looked at Soda and finally spoke.

"I don't like scrambled eggs." was all he said and then shot me a glare.

I didn't really know how to respond to that. "Don't you eat eggs for breakfast most mornings?" I questioned. I could have sworn he ate eggs every morning. It was a staple in the house really.

"I eat eggs, just not scrambled eggs. I don't like the taste of them." he replied as he sat back and folded his arms looking in disgust at the plate of food. I know he was upset, but he was really making me mad now. What does that even mean? Eggs are eggs. Doesn't matter how they are cooked. I looked over at Soda and for the first time he also seemed completely lost by that statement.

"Ponyboy they taste like eggs because they are eggs. You were sick all night and haven't eaten anything. So eat them now before you get sick again. It's all we have and all I really know how to make" I told him, sounding probably a little too harsh.

"I just TOLD you I don't like the taste of them!" He yelled back. I wish I could chalk this up to him being upset about what happened, but honestly he's a brat and this was pretty normal. Mom gave into everything with this kid. Being the baby let him get away with murder and it drove me NUTS. I wasn't going to let this slide, but before we could get into a classic yelling match, Soda jumped in.

"How about some cereal Pone? I think there's still milk" and he jumped up to check the fridge. Mom wasn't the only one that let him get away with murder. I shot Soda a glance but he shot one back telling me to let it go.

I decided not to comment now, but I wasn't going to let things like this slide in the future. He was hurting so I let it be for now. Just then the phone rang and I knew this nightmare was just getting started.