Notes

Hi! As usual, I don't own The Outsiders. Let's dive into Chapter 2!


Darrel

March 27th, 1965

I was jolted out of a restless sleep by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. Startled, I flailed and almost fell out of bed trying to get up due to a mixture of grogginess and panic. My room was pitch black and there was no light coming through the curtains. A phone ringing in the middle of the night was never a good sign, but in light of the events of the last few months, my previous worst-case scenarios seemed like mere inconveniences. One of the guys calling to get bailed out after getting picked up by the fuzz? No sweat. I now knew how cruel the world could be, and there were far worse fates.

I sprinted to the kitchen at a speed that would make Ponyboy proud and snatched up the phone. "Hello?"

"Darrel, it's Landon. Sorry to call you so early, but I known you got a long drive and you'd be leaving in a couple hours so wanted to give you the heads up. With this weather, we gotta push back the start time for house in Keetonville at least a few hours. I'll ring you again around ten and if it's cleared up we can at least get the foundation done this afternoon."

Now that I was in the kitchen, I could see the rain lashing against the picture window and wind whipping the branches.

"I appreciate you letting me know. I'll keep an ear out for your call later."

I hung up and sighed, leaning against the wall and almost feeling guilty about how relieved I was. We were in no position to afford a missed day's pay, especially since I had yesterday afternoon off, and every day spent not working felt like a day wasted. But glory, I hadn't had a day off aside from Sundays since the accident and I spent so much time on those days trying to address the other tasks needed to keep us afloat that it was hardly restful. I tried to tell the voice in the back of my head to shut up. It was amazing to me how quickly my brain had rewired since I'd taken over. In the brief minutes I took the time to stop and think about it, I hardly recognized myself anymore. An unexpected day off used to be the cause for celebration.

It was only five in the morning, but I knew that sleep would be fruitless now I was up. I lounged in front of the news, did a load of laundry, and did something I rarely had time to do anymore: make a decent breakfast for my brothers. I was flipping French toast onto three plates when a door opened down the hall and Soda stumbled out. I heard the shower turn on and figured I should wake Ponyboy as well. I rapped my knuckles on the doorframe. "Hey Ponyboy, school days. Rise and shine."

He groaned and rolled over, turning his back to me. "What're you still doin' here?" he slurred.

"Well, nice to see you too," I quipped, only half joking. "It's a verifiable monsoon out there, probably won't go in at all today. C'mon, I made French toast. Figured I can even drop Soda, off at work and you at school, can pick up the rest of the guys on the way too."

He was still facing the wall. "I'm good."

"What do you mean, you're good."

"I ain't hungry."

"You love French toast. What's the deal?"

He didn't answer, and I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He finally turned to look at me, face pale and cheeks flushed. "I don't feel great," he muttered, almost apologetically.

I palmed his forehead, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. Warm, but not burning. "Yeah, you feel a bit warm. What feels bad? Throat, stomach?"

"No, I'm fine. Just tired." Not overly reassuring, I doubted he'd fess up if anything else felt bad, trying not to admit weakness. It was hypocritical of me to feel irritated at that as that was just how it was around here, but still.

"Okay, kiddo. You can go back to sleep, I'll call ya out."

He looked at me, genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, probably just overdid it in the cold yesterday when you still getting 'over that cough. Might as well nip it in the bud and rest today so it don't flare up again. And that nosebleed yesterday was awful heavy, maybe you just a little short on blood or something."

Pony smiled halfheartedly. "Thanks, Darry."

I patted his shoulder. "Holler if ya need anything."

I returned to the kitchen to find Sodapop straddling a kitchen chair, half dressed with dripping wet hair and folding up a piece of French toast taco-style to eat. He had lathered it with a revolting blend of powdered sugar and maple syrup mixed into a paste. My teeth hurt just looking at it.

"Where's Pony?"

"He's got a bit of a fever, gonna let him sleep it off."

Soda looked thoughtful. "Feels like he been sick a lot lately, ain't it?"

I shrugged. It was the type of thing I regrettably didn't pay attention to before mom and dad died and had nothing to compare to. "Dunno. I think he's just worn out after the winter we had." I was quiet for a minute. "We all are."

Twenty minutes later, Soda and I had braved the storm outside and I was driving him to work. We sat in uncomfortable silence. Soda and I had always had a type of alliance, the two older brothers, running in the same friend circle and participating in the chaos around town that Pony wasn't quite old enough to participate in. After the wreck, we felt like even more of a team, trying to keep the household running and Ponyboy afloat. Soda was the mediator who translated between Ponyboy and I, something that had become increasingly difficult as time passed. A rift had formed between my middle brother and I since he sat me down to tell me he'd dropped out. I was pissed, and didn't even have the words to articulate why.

Soda had his feet propped up on the dashboard. He glanced at me as we pulled up at a stop sign. "You can't stay mad at me the rest of your life, ya know." His tone was light but I could hear the plea underneath.

I signed heavily. "I can try," I ribbed him, trying to convey that I was willing to discuss it while still sounding authoritative.

"I don't get it, man. We was drowning under the bills, we weren't gonna make it another month without takin' out 'nother loan and then Social Services would be all up our ass. So I find a way to fix it and you still mad?"

I took a minute to think, drumming my fingers of the steering wheel and keeping my eyes fixed on the road. I just didn't have a way with words like Sodapop did. "I guess… I ain't really mad atcha, little buddy. Well, I am, but I'm more mad at myself. What kind of a guardian lets his kid brother drop outta high school cause he can't cut it with the bills? It ain't a good look from Social Services standpoint, that's for sure."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "But I was flunking, Darrel. We both know there ain't no way I was gonna pass junior year. I was on track to become a super senior, just like Two-Bit."

"Feel like I'm lettin' mom and dad down, really. They wanted you to graduate."

"Mom wanted me to graduate."

"And dad wanted you to graduate because mom wanted you to graduate. I know y'all talked about you droppin' out before. Don't get me wrong, dad didn't think less of himself just because he didn't finish school, but people looked down on him anyway for it and he had to work twice as hard to prove himself. I just don't want to see you struggle the same way."

"And I won't. I always been a good worker, and I ain't fussed 'bout what people 'round town sayin'. Maybe I'll go back and get my GED someday."

I knew he was saying that just to placate me, but it worked. I pulled in front of the DX. "Alright, Pepsi. Water under the bridge."

He hugged me hard, resting his head on my shoulder briefly. "Thanks, Darry. Hey, call me if ya end up goin' to work, savvy? I'll check on Pony on my lunch break n' bring him a milkshake or something."

I nodded and watched him dart inside through the rain. There was a pit in my stomach and a small voice in the back of my head that told me something else was wrong, that our troubles were just starting. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.


April 2nd, 1965

"So, care to explain?"

My kid brother was slouched down in a chair, evading my gaze. His hair was messy and sweatshirt rumpled. "I didn't know the school called you."

"Well, they did. You were a no show for 5thand 6thperiods. Where the heck where you?"

He looked defensive. "It was an accident. I was catchin' up on some work in the library durin' lunch break n' I musta fallen asleep."

"For three hours?"

"Yeah, Johnny woke me up."

Ponyboy was a real good liar, though tended to crack and confess when with me. I looked over to Johnny, who was making himself a sandwich, and he nodded in confirmation.

I was surprised when I didn't feel the rush of anger I'd anticipated. He'd been beyond spacy lately and sleeping so much that it was reminiscent of the weeks after mom and dad died, when he'd holed himself up in his room and slept for days at a time, trying to check out completely. He'd blown off activities such as going to the movies with Johnny and the barn with Soda, claiming he was tired and didn't feel like it. That feeling of unease was back. Maybe I'd schedule another appointment with the psychiatrist I took him to a couple months back.


April 9th, 1965

Tulsa weather was always unpredictable, but I was pretty sure 80 degrees in early spring was a new level of diabolical. I spent eight hours baking in direct sunlight hammering shingles, and felt disgusting. Mom used to refer to me as a "terror" every summer due to my shorter-than-normal fuse, and looks like I hadn't outgrown it.

Our house was blessedly cool and quiet. I kicked off my boots and flopped down face-first on the couch, unable to bring myself to care that I hadn't showered yet. I knew damn well that I'd holler at Soda or Pony if they did the same, but I knew they didn't have the balls to bitch at me about it if they saw how grumpy I was.

"Darryyy." A hand prodded my shoulder, and I swatted it away.

"Darrellll." Sodapop repeated in a singsong voice. I could tell he was enjoying this. "How 'bout that weather today? Did Darrel the Terror make a reappearance?"

"Shut the fuck up, Soda. It's hotter than the devil's ass out there. I'm relocating us to North Dakota as soon as we can afford it."

He took pity on my sunburned face and turned the fan in my direction. I savored the cool air.

"C'mon, I made mac n' cheese."

I perked up, rolled off the couch, and staggered over to the table. "Where is everyone?" It had been weeks since at least a couple members of the gang hadn't been around for dinner.

"Two-Bit's at Lilah's piano recital, and Johnny and Steve went to watch a race. Dallas is supposed to be gettin' out today or tomorrow, accordin' to Shepherd."

I noticed that only two places were set. "Where's Ponyboy?"

His face fell. "He's already asleep," he sighed. "Said he don't feel good."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming, and it wasn't due to the heat. "Great. I'm gonna call the doctor and schedule an appointment. I think he's got mono or somethin'."

I was distracted throughout dinner. Soda chattered on about his day, the cars he worked on and the girls he talked to, but I only listened halfheartedly, nodding along and laughing when he paused. After washing the dishes, I showered, then knocked on Ponybooy's bedroom door.

"Pone, you okay?"

He was sprawled out on his stomach, fast asleep. I flicked on the light switch and he stirred, groaning, then rolled over and looked at me blearily. "Hey, Darry," he yawned."

"What's up with ya?"

"Just tired."

"Well, I'm tired of gettin' that answer. Something else is wr- holy fuck."

Ponyboy had sat up and pushed back his comforter, exposing his arms. Over a dozen bruises decorated each limb, dark splotches in varying shades of black, purple, and yellow, a stark contrast against the pale skin.

"Ponyboy, where did you get these?" I barked, voice rising in alarm.

He looked at his arms blankly, then back up at me, eyes wide in bewilderment. "I have no idea, honest."

"You swear it?"

He nodded wordlessly. The last thing I needed was Social Services thinking I had been beating on the kid. That feeling of unease was back, stronger than ever, prickling through my bones and making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"I'm gonna take you to the clinic tomorrow." I pushed the hair back off his forehead, trying to make my voice sound nonchalant. "You're scarin' me, buddy."

Ponyboy scowled, but didn't argue. That scared me most of all.


April 10th, 1965

The next morning was a flurry of chaos, per usual. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Steve arrived to pick up Pony for school, but I had managed to get him in for a morning appointment. "Drop Soda off at work on the way to school, wouldya? I'm takin' the truck. I'll drop Pone off at school after his appointment if he's feelin' up to it."

I tried to engage Ponyboy in conversation on the drive, but he was tired and cranky. He curled up in the passenger seat, pulled his hood over his head, and dozed off within minutes. In the waiting room, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, heels on his chair to avoid the influx of little kids running underfoot around the waiting room. He grimaced every time one of them sneezed then started touching every damn thing in the room with their snotty hands. I did too, though was more discreet about it.

It was almost a half hour before they called his name. As we walked back, we were intercepted by a doctor. She was a middle-aged woman with short brown hair and kind eyes, but had a no-nonsense air about her. "Mr. Curtis? I'm Doctor Mendez. I know Dr. Tucker is Ponyboy's primary physician, but I was the only one with an opening for such a short notice appointment this morning. I thought we could talk while one of our nurses gets Ponyboy's vitals."

I shook her hand and nodded to Pony, who followed the nurse out of the room. "Yeah, that's fine. You can just call me Darrel."

She sat on her rolling stool and gestured for me to sit in a chair next to the exam table. "Tell me more about what's been going on with your brother."

The calm and collected front I projected seemed to melt away when she looked at me. It had been like this. I knew the gang and my brothers saw me as the adult, the responsible one, put-together and unafraid. It was easy to lean into that role when I was talking to other adults in front of my brothers, but one-on-one, I felt like a dumb 20-year-old kid, clumsy and unsure in my role as a pseudo-responsible caregiver. My words tumbled out, sounding more rushed and anxious than I intended. "I thought he was still grieving or depressed. Our parents died three months ago. But he's always sick. He had strep in early January, a stomach bug the last weekend of February, and bronchitis a few weeks ago. He's always got a fever and wants to sleep. He won't eat, he's lost weight, and now he's got a bunch of bruises, like someone hit him but he swears no one did. It's gotta be mono, right? Kids his age get it, I had it before."

Dr. Mendez smiled gently, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mononucleosis is certainly possible," she said soothingly, "But I'd like to do some blood tests and go from there." I wasn't sure, but I thought she looked worried, and that sure didn't help the gnawing pit of anxiety in my stomach.

Pony sat listlessly on the exam table while she prodded his neck, stomach, and looked down his throat. She talked with him separately for about twenty minutes, which I expected. Even if there was a medical explanation for his bruises, she had to do her due diligence. She finally called me back in the room and surveyed Ponyboy, who was swinging his legs nervously. "Your lymph nodes are pretty swollen and your spleen is a bit enlarged, which we see a lot with mono. There are a lot of different things that can cause the bruising and frequent illnesses. I'll be sure to call you as soon as we get the test results.

As we walked to the lab, Pony realized what was transpiring. "They're not gonna stick me with a needle, right?"

I sighed tiredly. He'd never done well with needles as a kid. As he got older, he tolerated it only to seem tough in front of clinical staff, but it was a fight to drag him to the doctors if he knew needles were involved. "It's just a quick test, Pony."

"Darry-"

"It's the only way to figure out what's makin' ya sick. C'mon, you got this."

I handed his paperwork to the young lab tech and coaxed Ponyboy to sit in the chair and hold out his arm. He fidgeted as she prepared her workspace, tensed his arm when she cleaned the site, and jerked his arm away involuntarily as she made to tie the torniquet. She looked at him, irritated. "Needlephobic, huh? Well come on, I don't have all day."

Her nametag read "Deborah." I glared at her, despite feeling admittedly exasperated with Pony. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Soda echoed in my head. He feels things different then you. Go easy on him. "Want me to hold your hand, Pony?" I asked, trying to soften my tone.

He glared at me. "I'm not five, Darrel," he hissed, embarrassed. He was surprisingly cooperative as she poked him, and the needle slid in easily. However, as the blood started to flow into the tube, he took one look and puked all over the floor.

Deborah groaned. "Way to go, kid," she bit out sarcastically, and I snapped.

"He can't help it and he's not feelin' well. If you can't deal with sick kids, maybe you're in the wrong profession." I snatched up the small trash can and held it in front of Pony as he heaved again. "You're okay, kiddo."

He looked downright humiliated. "I'm sorry," he choked out as Dr. Mendez came into the small room.

"It's fine honey, it happens all the time," she said soothingly. "Let's get you some water and we'll try again in a few minutes."

The second round was much smoother and the sample was obtained successfully, though with lots of grumbling from Deborah. I resisted the strong urge to flip her off. She slapped a bandage on Ponyboy's arm, and we made our way out of the office and back to the truck. He flopped into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. "School or home, bud?"

"I wanna go home," he mumbled, and I nodded. Once there, I got him settled on the couch with a pillow and blanket and handed him the TV remote. "You gonna be okay by your lonesome for a bit? I gotta get to work."

He rolled his eyes. "I ain't a baby."

I messed up his hair, and he punched my arm in retaliation. "Yeah, yeah. See ya later, Pone."


I was distracted all throughout my shift. That's the good and bad thing about roofing. If you're not in the mood to talk to anyone, it's easy to drown out the voices of the guys around you and focus on your work. But sometimes there just isn't enough to distract you from the thoughts swirling around, and I sure wasn't helping myself spiraling about that morning's appointment.

"Curtis! You on another planet, man, I been tryin' talk to ya for damn near a minute. What's up?"

James grinned down at me from laying down shingles around the chimney. He was one of the better guys I worked with. He and dad used to pal around and he'd taken me out for a beer and game of pool sometimes after a shift. He offered me a cigar, but I shook my head.

"Sorry, James. Just distracted. Ponyboy's been real sick lately and I'm waitin' on a call from the doc tonight."

"Kids are walkin' petri dishes, man. Get used to it. You just ain't noticed before 'till you the one in charge and they puttin' their sticky hands all over everything you touch." He guffawed and I tried to smile back. His daughter had just started daycare and seemed to bring home a new illness every week.

When I arrived home, I found Dallas and Johnny lounging on our living room floor, watching TV. Dallas stood and clapped my shoulder briefly. "How's it goin', Dar?"

I hadn't seen him in nearly a month. It was hard to say who in the gang outside of my brothers and I took my parents' death the hardest, but Dally was certainly a contender. He had been particularly close with mom, and he hadn't been coping well. His grief manifested exactly how I expected, in outbursts and petty crimes that resulted in short stints in the cooler. I gave him a quick once over, assessing him, but he seemed to be in one piece. "Hey Dal. You hangin' in there?"

"Bout as good as any of y'all, I reckon. Glad to be out, though."

I glanced around. "Where's Pony?"

"Nappin' in his room." Johnny responded. "How was his doctor's appointment? He was already asleep when I got here."

"It was alright, just waitin' on some test results."

"What's goin' on with the kid?" Dally said sharply. I saw a hint of concern, but was reminded of his notorious germaphobia. I could see him eyeing the front door for a quick escape if needed.

"Just not feelin' good lately," I said shortly, heading for the kitchen. "Don't worry, if it was contagious we'd all be down for the count."

I started on baked chicken and potatoes for dinner, hoping making Pony's favorite would convince him to eat a decent portion. Two-Bit ambled in and started up a game of cards. Just as I was taking the chicken out of the oven, the phone rang and I snatched it up.

"Darrel, it's Dr. Mendez from Tulsa Pediatrics. How are you doing this evening?"

"Fine, thanks for calling. How were Pony's results?"

She sounded uneasy. "I don't like to discuss possibilities until we have a clear diagnosis. But there are concerns and we need to do some more testing as soon as possible."

"Why, what's wrong with 'em?"

"Like I said, there's no use worrying and speculating. But his white blood cell and lymphoblast counts were much higher than normal, and his platelets are low. We need to do a bone marrow biopsy."

"What's that?"

"It's a minor procedure. We insert a needle through the hipbone and collect a small amount of bone marrow for testing. We're going to do a spinal tap as well, so it's best to perform them together under general anesthesia."

Alarmed, I felt my breath catch in my chest. "That sounds a lot more than a minor procedure. Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Yes, and we need to do it tomorrow morning if possible. You can bring him to the general surgery floor at 7:30 tomorrow morning at the main hospital. Nothing to eat or drink."

"I understand you can't diagnose him, but please can you tell me something? This is crazy."

She was silent for a moment. "I'm concerned about an oncological event."

I rolled my eyes, fed up with her dodging the question. "Dumb it down, doc."

"Leukemia. It's a form of blood cancer. I'm not saying he has it, but the indications are there. I'm sorry, Darrel."

The world spun, and I almost dropped the phone. I sat down heavily in a chair, trying to breath normally and surreptitiously glanced at the guys in the living room Thankfully, they hadn't noticed.

"I know this can be overwhelming. I'd suggest you not tell him anything until we know for sure."

I nodded, then realized she couldn't see me. "I- I understand. Will we see you tomorrow?"

"No, a general surgeon will perform the procedure. I'll be facilitating the communication with the medical team and set you up with a specialist though, okay? You can always call me for anything you need. Please don't hesitate."

"Thanks." I managed, and hung up. I felt numb with shock. One thing was for sure; I had absolutely no intention of telling the boys until it was 100% certain. I could have sat there all night, but the sound of the screen door banging open brought me out of my trance. Soda and Steve ambled in, sweaty and covered in motor oil.

"Hi Dar!" Soda said brightly. "How was Pone's appointment?"

I feigned deafness until he moved closer to ask again, then seized his shirt sleeve and pulled him further into a corner of the kitchen as to not be overheard. "Um," I began, trying and likely failing to sound casual, "they want to do some more tests."

Soda immediately sensed my hesitation. "Like what? What's wrong?"

"They want him to have somethin' called a bone marrow biopsy tomorrow mornin' at the main hospital under anesthesia. We should both call out of work and take him. I ain't told him yet."

His eyes were wide. "Holy shit."

"Just- just don't go panickin'. Or let him see you, anyhow. He's gonna be freaked. Now go wake him up and see if he'll eat some dinner."

We managed to keep the conversation light at the dinner table. Two-Bit entertained everyone with stories of his usual exploits and Dallas weaved an elaborate tale involving a corrections officer and a bribe, which we all knew was half-true at best. Pony picked at his food but seemed perkier than he had all week. After dinner, he and Johnny curled up together with a book in the corner and started reading aloud. I hated to ruin the mood, and knew that the more I tried to be casual about this, the more Ponyboy would see right through me. Thankfully, Soda took it upon himself to test the waters.

"Hey kiddo," he yawned, casually flopping down next to him on the couch. "Darrel talked to Dr. Mendez earlier. She wants us to go to the hospital tomorrow."

Ponyboy was immediately on guard. "The hospital? What for?"

"They're gonna do a little test where they take a sample of your bone marrow. You'll be asleep, so you ain't even gonna feel it."

"Asleep?!" Pony's voice was rising in distress. "Like a surgery?"

Johnny looked alarmed now, too. "Pony has to have surgery?"

Steve started to interject, but I cut him off. "Everyone chill out. Pony is gonna have a minor procedure tomorrow mornin'. It ain't no big deal."

Ponyboy clung to Soda's arm, looking rattled. "But what if somethin' goes wrong?"

"You watch too many soap operas, Ponykid." Two-Bit said soothingly, ruffling his hair. I shot him a grateful look.

A half hour later, I had wrangled everyone into settling down for the night. The gang seemed to understand my pointed glances and went about reassuring Ponyboy that this was just a routine precaution. I knew I was kidding myself.


Notes

8/15/24 Original Author's Note on AO3: Just a note- the procedure itself for a bone marrow aspiration/ biopsy has remained pretty consistent since the '60s. However, the preparation and process looks a little different. Most biopsies can be performed with local anesthetic and light sedation to manage anxiety if necessary. This is more common in modern times and it isn't considered as big of a procedure- it can be done outpatient now and the credentials on the evaluator can vary from specially trained techs to NPs, not just surgeons anymore. Pediatric patients are a little trickier. It can still be done without full anesthesia, but general anesthesia is much more common for them, particularly if more than one procedure is being done at once, which is where the spinal tap comes in. We'll learn more about that next chapter (yay, education!) Please let me know if you have any questions/ concerns regarding medical information and if you would like to see sources and I will send you my 6200 paged bible of pediatric oncology and my nursing books, which weigh more than I do lol.

The love this first chapter received was great and really propelled me to continue. Every like, comment, and bookmark is so very appreciated! My updating schedule is a bit unpredictable from here on out as I am in nursing school and also pick up some shifts as an EMT. Please be patient and know I am busy but working hard to bring you more content! Lots of love and stay gold.