For the first time in his life, Soda couldn't stop thinking about school. Well, not about school exactly— about how he wasn't going to school.
In the summers, it always felt different. Summer was free and beautiful but just when the general stores start putting out the No. 2 pencils at the front, the days become thick and heavy with anticipation.
Except this time, Soda could feel the anticipation, it just wasn't leading up to anything. And for some reason, he couldn't shake the thoughts out.
Of course, given the chance, he would definitely not re-enroll. Nah, he thought, the only parts of school he ever enjoyed was being with his friends and trying to flirt with the girls, and he did all of that at the DX. And at the DX he was making money, not being scolded for god knows what by some teacher out to get him.
And damn, did his family need the money. His older brother Darry, just 20, worked two jobs and woulda have to had picked up another gig if Soda hadn't of dropped out early last spring. His little brother turned 14 just a couple of weeks ago. Besides mowing lawns and paper routes, there isn't much of a way to make money that young.
Soda found himself smiling at the idea of Ponyboy on his bike, flinging newspapers around the west side of town. Could you imagine?
Soda let out a deep sigh as he crouched down to restock some chocolate bars.
Maybe that was part of it too. School was just another way to think about home. And home has been tense.
Pony was full of nerves, as he was starting high school. Doing all he could to get the details about Will Rogers without actually asking because he'd be too embarrassed. Soda used to think he'd be there to help him, but he'd be here— at the DX.
So instead of just saying what was on his mind, the kid was walking around all day stuck in his head and keyed up. If it were Steve or Two-Bit, Soda would tell them to chill out and have beer. But he wasn't going to offer up that solution to his baby brother.
Darry has been full of nerves too, wondering if Pony would be okay at Will Rogers, and if he did the right thing but letting him skip 8th grade. Pony, god bless him, was skinny as a pole and still only came up to Soda's shoulders.
Because of all that, Darry has been more on-edge and bossy, yelling at both younger boys about every little thing: the laundry, groceries, the freakin' fence in the front yard that's been broken since before Pony could read.
Just last night even, Soda strolled into the house two whole minutes before his curfew, and Darry was on and on about how he shouldn't be cutting it so close, and to mind his curfew. But cuz Soda knew his brother, he didn't argue back like Pony would. He just agreed with his big brother before hopping into shower to melt off the day.
When it came to stressin' all three brothers showed it different. It used to be crazy to Soda, actually still kind of is, why his brothers couldn't just cop to their worries and nerves. They both have to try so hard to save face, and while they do, they leave a mess behind for their middle brother to come up with a broom.
When Darry's stressed or anxious, he becomes so tightly wound, bringing up everything around him he can control and demands his brothers do the same. "Do the laundry!" "I told you to vacuum, why ain't it done?" "Why do I have to give orders- ya'll are old enough to see what's gotta be done!"
He'll clench his jaw, and ball his hands into fists, as if he could will his fears away. As if, if he concentrates enough, he really could control the future.
Naturally, to a sensitive kid like Pony, all of this reads as anger. It didn't make any sense at all to Soda. His kid brother is so damn smart, able to read a whole book cover to cover in one go, but can't read a room to save his life.
When Pony's stressed, it's also a wonder Darry can't tell. Pony has all the giveaways. One of his legs shakes up and down quick enough to convince you of an earthquake. His voice gets small and shaky, and he fidgets with just about anything that can be messed with.
Darry doesn't seem to notice the cues, and finds his habits all so irritating, telling Pony to stop biting his nails, and stop bouncing his leg, like Pony had the power to control it. Darry is street-smart in all the ways, plus was an excellent student when he was in school. His brothers were so smart, so why was it so hard for them?
But Soda, he'll just tell them what he's feeling and so it's much easier. He'll tell his little brother "I'm worried about ya." And he'll tell Darry 'bout how he gets nervous before the lady from the state drops by. Hell, he'll even tell their buddy Dallas that he's stressed about a rodeo bet. He just says it and then they know and he knows they know and in a weird way it makes it a bit better.
Just as his brain turns back to thinking about the start of the school year, he hears the bell above the door ping.
"It is hellava fuckin' scorcher out in that garage I'll tell ya." His best friend Steve shouts, going to stick his face in the ice box.
Soda barked out a laugh. Steve always swore like a sailor in the heat. It was just a funny thing about him. "Just a real bitch of a day dealing with that damn lemon out there."
That was another thing he'd miss: getting paid to hang with his best buddy all day.
"Hey Steve-O," Soda began, turning to his friend grab two Pepsis from the fridge. Their boss Tom never seemed to care too much about the occasional missing drink or two. "Are ya thinking 'bout school on Monday?"
Steve leaned against the counter and returned Soda's gaze. "Nahh, I'll let that be my problem come Monday." He ran his hand through his dark, sweaty locks. "Why?"
"I don't know, I guess I am." See just tell people what's not you mind. It wasn't hard.
"Yeah?" Steve asked, and Soda was grateful for his casual tone, as both boys faced forward, no longer looking at each other directly.
"Yeah, I don't wanna go or nothin'" the blonde started, "I guess it's just weird that there ain't a difference 'tween summer and fall anymore. It's just all one thing now." That was another thing, sometimes it was hard to know exactly what was bothering him until he had someone near him listening.
Steve's a good listener.
They both grew quiet for a moment, letting the confession hang between them gently. Floating.
"Soda, not to be a dick or nothin' but ain't the difference between summer and fall the weather?" Soda turned to him with a wide eye gaze.
And then they both started laughing, loudly. The kind of laugh that takes you by surprise, and then you laugh harder because you don't really even know why it's so funny, which makes it funnier.
After a minute, as he wiped the tears out of the corner of his eyes, Soda got a bit quiet. "Yeah, I think you're right Randall." And he was, and Soda felt better. Though there was just a small matter of one little thing.
"Yah know you'll have to look out for Ponyboy for me, right?" Soda hopped onto the counter, smirking at the brunette. The decade long feud between his best friend and his little brother always made him a little giddy for some reason.
Steve took a long swig of his Pepsi, before letting out a deep groan. "Yeah, I know."
"Just keep an eye on him, don't let no body mess with him or nothin'"
"Don't worry man, he's so short and puny, the socs won't even see him. He's gonna scurry around like a fuckin church mouse." Steve chuckled, trying to lighten the mood again.
"Ha ha!" Soda hopped back off the counter to finish restocking. "Throw jabs at him all you want but I know you're gonna stick up for him and take care of him, cuz he's your little brother too."
"More like a little bother." Steve shouted back without any real heat behind it, swinging the door open to get back to old Mr. Riley's car, and leaving before Soda could respond.
Talking did work, and he didn't need to go to school to learn that. His poor, smart brothers were idiots. The smartest idiots he knew.