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- 1956 (5/7/11)
Ponyboy knew his big brothers loved him, I mean, that was 90% of their job description. Mama often told him that “you don’t always have to like them, but you have to love them” and he was pretty sure that they had heard the same lecture before. He did his best to like them most of the time too. It was a little harder when Darry said that he couldn’t play football with his friends because he was too young or when Soda and Steve would stay up past his bedtime and Mama told him he couldn’t go or when Darry gravitated toward Soda the second something went wrong. But Ponyboy loved both his brothers. He loved them so much.
He and his brothers did everything together—as far as he knew. He actually had no idea what they did all day long at school, but in the evenings and on weekends, they were attached at the hip. If nothing else, they let him tag along to things they were going to do anyway. But sometimes, he really did have them all to himself.
On this particular Saturday, he found himself in the park near their house. Lots of kids from the neighborhood went out to play there and he and his brothers were no exception. He and Darry loved to run in the open space while Soda tried to touch the sky from the swing set. But his favorite was when they would all play a game together. Sometime, he and Soda helped Darry practice football. He let them throw the ball to him while he ran to catch it in the grass or they’d stand in a triangle and throw it back and forth or they’d chase Darry as fast as they could to try to tackle him. Ponyboy loved this game—especially the part where he got to run fast.
Today, they weren’t playing a game, just spending time together in the fresh air and freedom of the park. Pony wanted to frolic in the open field more than anything, so he strayed from the area his brothers had chosen by the monkey bars—where Darry was trying to do pull ups and Soda was hanging upside down—to chase the high of running as fast as his little legs could carry him. He needed all the practice he could get. Soda told him that if he wanted to be cool when he started school, he needed to be the fastest kid in his class and Pony definitely wanted to make lots of friends.
So he bounded off toward the field. He felt like he was flying, faster than ever before. His heart pounded. His legs stretched out. For a moment, nothing else mattered but the pure joy of running.
But then, in a cruel twist of fate, before he could even make it to the open space, his foot caught on something on the sidewalk. He didn’t know what it was—maybe a root or a rock or a stick—but that didn’t seem to matter. He stumbled, arms flailing as he attempted to catch himself, but he was unsuccessful as he plummeted to the ground.
“Ow! ” Ponyboy gasped, collapsing onto the hard earth, knees skidding across the pavement. He watched in horror as the red tinge of blood began to appear beneath the dirt on his knees.
Soda came running over first, his face flooded with worry. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, Pony. Look at me,” he said, kneeling down beside his brother. He pulled out a tissue from his pocket and gently dabbed at the cuts. “It’s just a scrape. You’re gonna be fine.”
Ponyboy sniffled, watching the tissue soak up the blood. Soda’s hands were warm and steady as he wiped away the dirt. “You’re so brave,” Soda added, grinning.
Before Ponyboy could answer, Darry’s voice called from the edge of the playground. “I’m gonna get Mama. Stay put!”
He was gone in an instant, racing towards the house. A few minutes later, he returned with Mama in tow—her hair flowing behind her as she followed her oldest son, first aids kit in her hands and a look of determination in her eyes.
“Hey baby,” she began, kneeling next to Pony, “Let’s get you patched up.”
As Mama began to clean up the blood and dirt on his legs, he felt fresh tears forming in his eyes.
“You’re okay,” Soda said, holding his hand tightly, “You’re doing great.” Darry stood beside him, arms crossed as he looked around the park, making sure his little brother was safe.
“All done!” Mama said as she placed the final bandage. “Do you want to play some more or go home?
Pony thought for a minute. He didn’t want to go home alone while his brothers kept having fun, but he didn’t want to ask them to leave too. He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy being in the park for the rest of the afternoon though. “I’m ready to go home,” He decided.
“Alright, let’s go!” Soda stood up quickly and held his arms out to Pony. He didn’t expect his brothers to leave with him. He hadn’t asked. But they did, and somehow, that mattered more than he knew how to tell them. Maybe this was just what big brothers did.
“Come on, Pony,” Darry said, “I’ll carry you.”
Soda helped him off the ground and onto Darry’s back. The trio began to make their way home with Mama close behind. As Darry carried him home, Ponyboy rested his head on his brother’s shoulder, eyes half-closed. The sting in his knees had begun to fade, and a new feeling emerged in his chest. He didn’t know the words for it yet, not really, but it felt a little like being safe and an awful lot like being loved.
- Fall 1961 (10/12/16)
Ponyboy knew his brothers loved him, especially Sodapop. Soda always seemed to find time to spend time with him, even around school and the stables and the rodeo. Anything from letting him go along to the park or planning a game for them to play over the weekend or staying up later than they were supposed to and talking to one another from opposite sides of their room. Darry didn’t really make the same effort anymore; Pony sort of understood. He had lots of friends from school who wanted to hang out and he had to be at school early every morning for practice and he often had to stay late for games, but it seemed like he never had any time anymore.
But Ponyboy didn’t give that too much thought. He knew that when he was 16 years old, he’d have a lot going on in his life and he wouldn’t have as much time to play with his brothers either. And besides, he still had friends from school and could always help Mama around the house when his brothers were both busy.
But as he trudged home from school that afternoon, he knew he was not in the mood the play or talk or help.
It all started when he began to notice pains in his stomach before lunchtime. He didn’t think too much of it; he was probably just hungry. But when his class arrived at lunch, he realized that nothing sounded worse than peanut butter and jelly. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was not hungry at all. The feeling in his stomach remained all afternoon—a weird, squirmy kind of discomfort that made it hard to concentrate on math, but didn’t constitute a real problem. Pony thought the problem would just go away on its own by the time the day was over, but by the time the bell finally rang at the end of the day, he couldn’t deny it anymore: he really didn’t feel well.
The walk home felt like 100 miles uphill. He desperately wished that Darry didn’t have practice or Soda wasn’t going to the stables so he didn’t have to walk home alone. The thought of being home in his warm bed and softer pants was the only thing that kept him going.
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed open the front door with a shaky arm, promptly dropped his backpack to the floor, and curled up into a ball on the couch.
“Mama?” he called, his voice thin.
She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Hey, baby. You’re home a little late. Everything alright?”
“My tummy hurts,” he mumbled, wrapping his arm around his midsection.
She moved quickly—immediate comfort and warmth, like he’d been wishing for all day. whisking him off to bed and handing him warm pajamas, placing a washcloth on his forehead, pouring him a dose of medicine, staying in the room until he had fallen asleep. “Just rest, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Pony heard her say as he sleep overtook him.
He woke up to the sound the door slamming and his mother scolding his middle brother for the racket. “Keep it down, bud. Pony’s asleep.”
Soda walked into the room not long after. “What happened to you?” he asked as he dropped his backpack on his bed.
“M’ sick,” Ponyboy whispered.
Soda smiled softly. “Well, lucky for you, I’m the second-best nurse in the house.”
He practically bounced out of the room, but returned moments later with a glass of water in hand, rambling about his school day and Steve trying to ask a girl to the Dingo and getting an orange thrown at him. Ponyboy smiled a little, even though his stomach still hurt. He appreciated his brother’s efforts. He wanted to ask Soda to sit still. To stop leaving the room. All the movement made him dizzy; and he didn’t want to be left alone again. Yet before he knew it, Soda was gone.
***
That evening, he woke up to Mama running a hand through his hair and Soda sitting beside him eagerly awaiting a verdict. “Feeling any better, baby?” She asked him.
Pony didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to tell her the answer was no. If anything, he felt worse. Instead, he just whimpered and closed his eyes.
“How about we read for a little bit?” She said, “Does that sound nice?”
He nodded slowly, trying not to make himself more dizzy than he already was.
Mama returned to the room with a tattered copy of Winnie the Pooh, sat down in the chair by Soda’s desk, and began to read. “Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders…”
***
When he awoke later that evening, he heard the front door creak open and shut again. Darry was home. Pony didn’t open his eyes, but he didn’t need to in order to listen to the conversation in the living room.
“Try to be quiet,” he heard Mama say, “Pony’s sick.”
“He okay?” Darry’s voice was hushed and low, as if he was trying to keep Pony from hearing.
“Just a bug, I think,” Mama replied. “He’s resting now.”
Ponyboy waited for Darry to come check on him, or maybe sit down for a few minutes like Soda did. But he never did.
***
The next day was tragic. He woke up feeling worse than he had the night before. Skin hot, tummy swirling, bones heavy—the whole package. It only took him 2 minutes after waking up to find himself on his knees on the bathroom floor, emptying the contents of his stomach. Mama was quick to help him, rubbing his back, telling him it was going to be okay. It didn’t feel like it was going to be okay. As his organs tried to eject themselves, he felt like the world was ending.
After what felts like hours but was probably only a few minutes later, he felt his stomach settle. It was over. He took a deep, shaky breath as Mama handed him a glass of water and pushed his hair back.
“Looks like you’re not going to school today, honey. Let’s get you back to bed,” she said softly, helping him off the floor and down the hall.
“Mama?” He mumbled.
“Yeah baby?”
“Can I go back to sleep?”
“Of course you can,” she replied. They reached his bed (at last!) and he scurried back under the covers, curling up into a ball and willing himself to go back to sleep as soon as possible.
He didn’t remember most of the day. It was defined by few moments of consciousness—too many of them spent with his head over a plastic bowl, hoping he wouldn’t need it. Most of the time when he woke up, Mama or Dad or Soda were in the room.
Soda sat with him a lot. On the edge of his bed, talking about horses, or asking if he wanted to hear the dumb thing Two-Bit did at school that day. He didn’t say much, but he appreciated the company; Soda’s willingness to carry the entire conversation but stay anyways was more than he needed.
Once, he woke up just soon enough to watch Darry leave the room. When he looked around, he noticed a fresh glass of water on his nightstand and another blanket sitting on the end of his bed.
***
That night, Pony fell asleep early, warm from the blankets and Mama’s gentle presence as she picked up the story where they had left off the night before. He drifted back to sleep to the sound of pages turning and the distant footsteps of the rest of his family in the hall.
But at some point in the night, he woke up.
The house was dark. Too dark. And cold. And Quiet—something he had never known his home to be.
He blinked at the ceiling, confused by the silence. His head felt fuzzy, but the ache in his stomach was mostly gone. He turned toward the other side of the room. Soda’s bed was empty. The blankets were messy, but Soda was nowhere to be seen. Ponyboy sat up.
“Soda?” he whispered, voice catching.
Nothing.
He slowly sat up in bed, trying to assess if he still felt sick. He stood up with no pain. Stretching cautiously, he crept to the door and poked his head out.
No one.
He closed the door and sat back down on the edge of the bed, pulling his knees into his chest. He looked over at the clock on Soda’s desk: 1:41 am.
He should have been asleep. He knew going back to sleep would be good for him, but it was hard to hear logic over the deafening sounds of loneliness. He laid his head back down on the pillow and turned to face the door, instead of the empty room. Before he fell asleep, he heard knocking on a door down the hall.
“Soda?” Someone said. Darry’s voice.
Pony didn’t hear a response. He didn’t need to. His brothers were conspiring in the hallway without him and that’s all he needed to know. The feeling in his stomach changed. It wasn’t the same ache and impending doom he’d felt the day before, but a new feeling that somehow felt worse.
But now he couldn’t sleep. He tried to tune in to the conversation happening down the hall, but hardly caught any of it. Bits and pieces maybe— “little buddy” (a reminder that Darry liked Soda the most), “Pony” (they were talking about him), “in the morning” (whatever that meant)—nothing conclusive.
“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” came Darry’s voice, clearer than it had been before.
It wasn’t until he heard a complete sentence that he realized he needed to be asleep right now or his brothers were going to know he was eavesdropping.
He closed his eyes seconds before he saw the gentle light of the hallway lamp stream through the doorway and the shadows of his brothers walk past.
He heard Darry leave and come back.“All set?” His voice said.
No response. Darry’s shadow drifted past again.
“Darry?” Soda.
A pause. “Yeah, buddy?”
“You should shower before Ma and Dad get up. You still smell like popcorn.” Pony had no idea what that meant.
When he heard the door close again, he stirred as though he had just woken up. For all they knew, he had. “Soda?” He asked again.
“Hmm?” Soda mumbled from the other side of the room.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Pony. Go back to sleep.” His voice sounded sleepy, exhausted even.
They didn’t want him to know what they’d been up to. He tried not to take it personally. Surely, they would have taken him along on their midnight popcorn adventure if he hadn’t been so sick. They didn’t intentionally leave him out very often, especially Soda.
Maybe it was nothing, like Soda said. Maybe they’d just run into each other in the hall or went to check on the same noise or… or something like that.
Pony rolled over for what felt like the millionth time that night, closed his eyes, and pretended that it didn’t hurt.
- Summer 1965 (13/16/20)
Ponyboy was pretty sure his brothers loved him. But it was harder now. Not harder to love him necessarily, but their lives seemed to get in the way. Darry was unhappy—pulled a million directions at any given time and trying his best to pick up the pieces after disaster had struck, but Pony knew he wasn’t mom and dad no matter how hard he tried. He’d never tell Darry that though. Not when he was trying his best to fill an impossibly large void.
Ponyboy didn’t see Soda as often as he would have liked anymore. It was harder now that he wasn’t in school. Pony had waited years for them to be in the same school again—to pass one another in the hallways, eat lunch in the parking lot with the gang, talk about the horrible assignment Mr. Symes had come up with on the way home—but now none of that was going to happen.
Selfishly, Pony wished things could be how they were before. He wished Darry was just his big brother. He wished Soda didn’t have to go to work all day long. He wished his brothers would be there when he got home from school so he could tell them about all the things he had learned and the crazy thing that happened during track practice.
In the summer, without the opportunity to go to school all day—he felt even more alone. There was only so much he could do in the house before he had to wander out into the neighborhood or downtown. He could often convince Johnny, Two-Bit, or one of his track teammates to go with him, but at the end of the day, he’d still come home to his house that felt strangely empty—even when his brothers were home. They were exhausted from long days on their feet, especially Darry, whose work never seemed to end, even when he got home. Soda often told Pony that he thought Darry worked too hard, but Darry didn’t seem to listen when he would suggest anything of the sort. Pony wasn’t quite sure he understood what Soda meant, but he nodded along as though he did.
That day, he had gone out with Two-Bit and Dally and Johnny. In the morning, he had been excited to go, but now that it was… who-knows-when at night, he was just ready to get home. The afternoon was uneventful—walking around Tulsa, lunch at the Dingo, taunting a few socs as they drove by, the usual shenanigans. The evening was when things got really crazy.
Ponyboy couldn’t remember exactly how he had gotten… wherever he was. What he did know was that 3 beers, a pair of Jell-O shots, and a mystery drink that was fruity and spicy at the same time, he needed to get out of there. He hadn’t meant for the situation to get so out of hand, but everything had happened so quickly that it didn’t leave a lot of time to think about what he was doing as Two-Bit handed him another drink and he threw it back. After all, everyone else in the room was doing it too. Two-bit was beyond plastered by then; Dally seemed to have a new drink every time Pony saw him. Johnny held a beer in his hand and Pony was 80% sure there hadn’t been liquid in it for the better part of the last 30 minutes. He wasn’t sure where Dally and Johnny were anymore, but with the music loud, the lights, low, and the crowd hopping, he hoped they weren’t too far away. It might have even been a good time if the room wasn’t spinning so fast. But not being able to see straight seemed to take most of the fun out of the experience.
“You okay, Pony?” Two-Bit asked, throwing an arm around him. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t know,” Ponyboy replied, swaying toward his friend. “I want—I wanna go home.”
“Okay okay, we can do that.” Two-Bit grabbed Pony’s shoulders to steady him. “Lemme find Johnny and we’ll get out of here.” He walked away murmuring something about how Dally had probably fled already.
***
Ponyboy didn’t remember much from the car ride home. He wasn’t even entirely sure how he had wound up on his porch, though he imagined he hadn’t managed much of it on his own. Johnny helped him up the stairs and quietly opened the door, desperately hoping his brothers weren’t sitting in the living room. Darry couldn’t see him like this.
“You staying here tonight?” He asked Johnny.
“I might. Don’t really want to go home.”
If you stay, Darry probably won’t yell at me, Ponyboy thought to himself. “You know you’re welcome here.”
They stepped into the living room. Much to Pony’s disappointment, Darry was sitting in the armchair. He just needed to keep it together long enough to get to bed. Long enough that Darry didn’t know what he had gotten up to that evening. Johnny seemed to understand the importance of the mission as well as the pair shared a quick look.
“Hey Pony,” Darry said, not looking up from his newspaper, “How was your night?”
Pony thought for sure he was already done for. He knew Darry wasn’t stupid, but he still had to try to slip by unnoticed. “It was fine,” he said slowly, putting immense amounts of concentration into forming each syllable. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
He started to walk away when Darry stopped him. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Drink some water before you do. Or you’ll regret it when you wake up.” Busted.
“Oh…” Ponyboy didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was because his brain was foggy, maybe it was because his foolproof plan was in shambles, but either way he knew that this was bad. The next thing he knew, the words were spilling from his mouth faster than his brain could comprehend. “Darry I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking and everyone else was doing it and they just kept coming and the room was dark and crowded and—and the last one wasn’t even good. I just didn’t think it—“
“I know you didn’t,” Darry sighed, rubbing his temples, “just go to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
That was the last thing Pony wanted. Yet he trudged down the hall anyways. He didn’t even bother to change his clothes before getting into bed. as he drifted off into a uncomfortable, sweaty sleep, he had two thoughts cross his mind: the loneliness of falling asleep alone and the glass of water he forgot to grab.
***
Pony was awoken an hour later, though he’d never know if it was because of the slam of the front door or the churning in his stomach. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay in bed for much longer if he wanted to avoid disaster, yet the gentle moonlight and cool breeze streaming through the window made it incredibly difficult to will himself out of bed. Ultimately, the only thing that convinced him to run down the hallway to the bathroom was the reminder that Soda was going to have to sleep in his bed too. He couldn’t be sick there.
The second he hit the bathroom floor, he felt the meager contents of his stomach making a reappearance. He never wanted to drink again. Well, he never wanted to drink on an empty stomach again. He knew he should have listened to Darry when he told him to drink water. He knew he probably should have eaten more at dinner when Dally suggested it. He knew they were right, yet that information didn’t help him now. He braced himself as another wave of nausea rushed through him, eyes closed, gripping the rim of the toilet hoping this would all be over soon.
Pony didn’t notice the presence of another person in the room until he felt a gentle hand on his back, working its way up and down as he tried to pull it together. he felt relief wash over him.
“Soda?” He asked, though he already knew it was his middle brother was sitting beside him. Darry didn’t have the same presence that Soda did.
“Hey Pone,” Soda whispered, still running his hand across his little brother’s back. “Rough night?”
“Soda I really don’ feel good,” he whimpered, leaning against the wall.
“I saw Two at the Dingo. He said he was worried about you,” Soda started, “I guess he’s not too far off, huh?”
“I don’t know what I was doing…”
“It’s gonna be okay, Honey. This happens to everyone.” He passed Pony the glass of water he should have drank earlier. “Small sips, okay?”
“M’ sorry.” Pony took a sip of the water. “You should have just gone to bed. You know, without me”
“And leave you alone on the bathroom floor?”
Pony nodded in response.
“Not gonna happen, little brother. Besides, I just finished playing nurse for Steve, who’s doing the same thing you are right now—couple too many daiquiris really did him in. I’m warmed up and everything.”
Pony paused for a moment. “I thought you and Steve went dancing.”
Soda laughed. “What did you think dancing involves?”
“I thought you just danced, you know.” Pony thought for a second, taking another deep breath. “Soda, are you drunk?”
“No Pony, I don’t drink. I don’t really like it.”
“Oh…” Pony suddenly felt embarrassed. He had managed to drink himself sick and his older brother didn’t even have one drink during his whole night out. “I don’t think I like it either.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine right now you really don’t.”
Pony hoped he’d remember this feeling next time he went out. But he wasn’t so sure he would. In the moment, it was always a little hard to think ahead to consequences. Pony looked down at his empty water cup. “Darry’s mad at me. He’s gonna yell at me in the morning.”
“He’s probably just worried about you.”
“No he’s not.” Pony suddenly felt exhausted.
“He really cares about you a lot you know,” Soda caught Pony as he slumped against the wall. “He just has a hard time telling you that.”
A laugh escaped Ponyboy’s lips. “Yeah right.”
Soda didn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he just held Pony in his arms on the floor of the bathroom in their house that only sometimes felt like the home it used to be. “So where did you go tonight anyways?”
“I don’ remember.”
Soda smiled. “Can we table this until morning when you will? You look pretty tired.”
Pony looked up at him. “Yeah we can.” He matched his brother’s soft smile. “You look sleepy too.”
The pair peeled themselves off the floor and slowly made their way back down the hall. Pony wasn’t even sure his head was on the pillow before his eyes were closed. In the morning, he’d have to face the world again, but for now everything was beginning to feel like it might be okay.
- Fall 1965 (14/16/20)
Ponyboy knew that his brothers loved him. Both of them. For sure. Nothing served as a better reminder than the joy and relief on their faces when he finally saw them again in the hospital. Nothing reminded him more than the constant longing to see them again when he was in the church.
In the weeks that followed, he needed them more than ever. They were the only constant in his life as he lost friends at school—some of them wouldn’t even look at him—felt completely isolated from the gang—which was missing two of the people he had once been closest with—and found it harder and harder to keep track of and take care of himself. Yet one of the days where he most felt their love and support was on the first day he had managed to get out of bed after the rumble.
He had very little sense of time during that week as he drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes waking up to see one of his brothers sitting with him, sometimes waking up alone or to talk to a visitor. But the days seemed to all blend together. As last, one morning he woke up and felt as though he had enough energy to drag himself out of bed. If nothing else, he was in desperate need of a shower.
Ponyboy slowly shuffled down the hallway toward the living room, pausing when he overheard his brothers talking in the kitchen.
“…it doesn’t seem to get better, Dar. I mean, with everything that’s happened… I don’t know.”
“I know, Pepsi-Cola. And we still have this trial and Pony can’t get out of bed and Johnny and Dally…” Darry trailed off as he noticed Pony in the hallway. “Hey there, kiddo!”
Soda hopped off the counter and ran over to him. “What are you doing up? Come sit down.” He dragged him to a chair in the dining room and rushed back to the kitchen.
“I didn’t want to lay there anymore,” Ponyboy started, “I don’t know. It got boring.” And lonely.
“You wanna eat something?” Darry asked.
Pony shrugged. “I guess.”
“It’s not baloney. Promise,” Soda said as he set down a small plate of eggs and took a seat on the other side of the table.
The eggs did not look appetizing. But he was going to try his best. He took a small bite—just as terrible as he thought. He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face, but he wasn’t as subtle as he hoped.
“How about some toast instead?” Soda suggested. Pony nodded. Darry brought him a different plate.
The toast was immediately better than the eggs had been. He managed to finish the slice, then another. “I think I’m going to go shower,” he said, standing up from the table.
“Good idea buddy,” Darry replied as he took the plate away and placed it in the sink.
He could still hear his brothers talking when he closed the bathroom door. “I think he might be getting better.”
“I wouldn’t get our hopes up too soon.”
“But it’s still the best thing to happen in the last… I don’t know how long.”
***
By the time he got out of the shower, Ponyboy was ready to lie down again. His limbs felt heavy, yet the weight of the events of the last few weeks felt heavier. but he was still determined to have a change of scene. He slipped into a clean t-shirt and pajama pants, ripped the comforter off the bed and threw it around his shoulders like a cape, and shuffled back down the hall to the living room where he took up residence on the couch.
Soda’s head popped out from the kitchen doorway. “You staying out here for a bit?”
Pony nodded. “I thought it was might.”
“I’ll be in as soon as I’m done the the dishes. Darry went out but he’ll be back in 10.”
“Don’t you have work?” His brothers were never home.
“Not today. Darry doesn’t either—day off.” Pony didn’t think too hard about what would have caused both his brothers to have the day off at the same time and chose to believe that it was just a coincidence—which it very well could have been. Instead, he thought it was nice to have them both around all day now that he finally felt a little more like a human being.
Soda sat down beside him, and Pony finally got a good look at his middle brother. He looked exhausted—deep, sunken eye bags beneath his usually vibrant eyes, his hair ungreased, his socks mismatched, and his usual grin seemed forced. “Soda?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?” He asked, and immediately felt stupid. He already knew the answer. No one was ‘okay’ right now. His friends were dead, he was on trial as a murder accomplice, mom and dad were still gone, and they were at risk of being thrown into a boy’s home. Not to mention Sandy had fled Tulsa for good.
“I’ll be alright,” he said softly, though Ponyboy could see tears welling in his eyes. “You will too, Pone.”
Soda wedged himself between Pony and the back of the couch and threw an arm across Pony. It felt safe and warm and like home, a feeling he hadn’t felt in too long.
Pony felt himself drifting off to sleep when the front door opened. Darry walked in carrying a grocery bag, which he whisked off to the kitchen before returning to the living room. “How are you doing, little buddy?”
A moment of silence passed. It didn’t occur to Ponyboy until about five seconds had gone by that Darry was talking to him. He wasn’t ‘little buddy.’ No, that was Soda. But he looked behind him and saw that Soda was very much asleep and not going to respond. “A little tired,” he finally responded.
Darry brushed his hand against Pony’s cheek. “You’re still a little warm. Good thing you’re taking it easy today,” he said as he fiddled with the TV. “I thought we might watch a movie.”
Ponyboy was a little surprised. His brothers didn’t watch movies. Darry told him he should spend less time watching movies. So why were they watching one today? “I thought you didn’t like movies,” he said.
“Today seems like a good day for one,” Darry replied. He didn’t answer the question, but Pony heard the answer loud and clear: ‘I don’t, but you do.’
“Okay,” Pony agreed, “You can pick. You know, since you don’t watch a lot of movies.” He snuggled further into his comforter. “And pick one before Soda wakes up because I don’t think I can handle a western,” he whispered.
Darry settled on an action movie that Ponyboy couldn’t remember much about. He watched as his big brother settled down in the armchair where he could observe both his brothers and still pretend to watch the movie.
For the next two hours, Pony let all the trials of the last three weeks and the impending doom of the unknown leave his mind as he focused on the present. On the gentle light coming from the television and the warmth of his blanket and the sound of Soda’s even breaths and the feeling of Darry’s presence and protection as he drifted off to sleep.
- Fall 1966 (15/17/21)
Ponyboy loved his brothers, but he sometimes wished they would just mind their own business. He found that they both had a really bad tendency to get caught up in things that didn’t concern them, especially when it came to his life. They didn’t need to know that he was fighting with one of his friends on the track team (and he definitely didn’t want them to get involved). They didn’t need to know if he had helped the pretty girl who sat behind him in English find the answers to the homework. And they definitely didn’t need to know where he was and how he was doing at every second of the day. He was convinced that sometimes, the less they knew, the better.
He didn’t get into any trouble, but he needed some time away to be with his thoughts or work through something and he found that time harder and harder to find. His life had gotten busier in the last year—between school and sports and friends, he was a pretty busy guy. And he knew that most nights he would go home and find his brothers in the living room, playing cards or watching TV or chatting about their days or making dinner. He enjoyed that piece of consistency in his life. And he appreciated that they were always there for him…but ever since his brief stint at the church and the mess that followed, he had found it difficult to escape their scrutiny as they treated him like a different—and much more fragile—person.
As much as he appreciated their intentions, he often wished they would just take it back a notch so he could live his life—the same kind of life he had always led. Some days were easier than others. And the further he got from his days in Windrixville, the easier things seemed to be.
But that morning, everything felt a little extra heavy. A little more wrong than it should have. And he knew immediately that it was going to be a problem.
Ponyboy didn’t feel bad exactly, but he definitely didn’t feel good either. Over the last few days, he had been nursing a cold, but he thought by now he had to be on the upswing. But the achy pain that rested in his bones, pressure behind his eyes, and twinge in his throat suggested otherwise. As he lay in bed trying to assess exactly how bad he felt, he couldn’t help but think about his brothers. If he told them he thought he should stay home, they’d insist that one of them stay with him—even though he knew he’d be fine on his own. If he went to school anyway, they’d worry, no matter how many times he told them that he really didn’t feel that bad.
As he continued to ponder his dilemma, the bedroom door swung open and Soda’s head popped in. “Hey Pony, you awake?”
He groaned and rolled over to face his brother. “Yeah yeah, I’m up.” He worried that this came off more aggressively than he intended, but as he watched concern spread across Soda’s face, he knew that his tone was the last thing he needed to worry about right now.
“You feeling okay, honey? You look worse.” Soda sat down on his side of the bed.
Pony stared at him for a second, trying to make up his mind—stay home or power through. He had felt worse before. He didn’t think he was running a fever. There was no real reason to stay home. And he had a lab quiz in science anyways. “I don’t feel worse,” he decided. He still wasn’t sure if that was entirely true.
“You sure?”
No. “Yeah. I’m okay, Soda. Really.” He got out of bed and began digging through the dresser to find something to wear.
“If you say so. Darry is almost done with breakfast when you’re ready,” he said, bounding out of the room.
So he’d made his decision. And hopefully his brothers would let it slide. He slipped on a sweatshirt that might have been Soda’s now but definitely used to belong to Darry and made his way out of the room.
As he walked down the hall, he could hear his brothers talking quietly, though he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. All conversation seemed to stall when he entered the living room, and two heads swiveled to look at him.
“Ponyboy, I really don’t know if you should go to school today,” Darry finally said.
Pony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This conversation was getting old. “I’m fine, Darry. It’s just a cold.”
Soda set a plate of eggs in front of him. “He’s fine, Darry. He’ll let us know if it gets worse. Right Pony?”
Yeah probably. “Sure.”
“Call if you feel worse,” Darry insisted. Pony nodded. “Promise?”
“Sure.” And before he knew it he was on his way out the door.
***
By the time he reached second period, Ponyboy was seriously considering calling Darry to pick him up. He stared at the samples sitting on the lab table, but he couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to be for the life of him. By the third time he had to excuse himself from class to cough up a lung or grab a tissue, he was ready to throw in the towel. But Darry had probably only been at work for a few hours and Soda wasn’t scheduled to get off until that evening and they could always use the money. And he really didn’t want his brothers to worry. And even more than that, he didn’t want to hear them say ‘I told you so.’ He knew they were right, but he wasn’t ready to face that. Not yet.
So the day dragged on. English class. Lunch. Math class. Track practice. By the end, he was completely and utterly exhausted. If he wasn’t sure he was running a fever earlier, he definitely knew now. He shivered as he sat in the locker room, trying to will himself to step into the cold shower—the final obstacle that stood between him and going home.
It was even worse than he imagined. The icy water chilled him to the bone. Darry’s hoodie was not nearly plush enough to keep him warm on the walk home as shivers racked his frame. For just a second, he considered picking up the payphone and asking Darry to come find him somewhere on the streets of Tulsa, but he had made it this far. He was going to get home.
No sooner than he stepped in the front door did he collapse on the couch, the pressure of the longest day of his life finally leaving his shoulders and the true discomfort of his illness consuming him. He reached up to grab the blanket off the back of the couch, pulling it tightly around himself as he wallowed and waited for someone to come home.
He wanted his brothers. No, he needed his brothers. He needed Darry to hand him a pair of Aspirin and a hot water bottle. He needed Soda to lay down beside up and wrap his arms around him. He needed Darry to tell him it was okay and he was going to be okay. The emptiness of the house felt too heavy.
After what felt like hours, but could have been merely minutes, Ponyboy heard the front door open and the telltale sound of Darry’s workboots against the hardwood floor. He tried to pry his eyes open, but didn’t manage to before he felt Darry’s cool hand against his forehead.
“Oh Pony, You should have called,” he muttered as he pushed Ponyboy’s hair out of his face.
Pony just whimpered in response.
“I would have come and got you if you told me you felt worse.”
“I know,” he sniffled. “Darry, I think I feel worse.”
“You don’t say,” he replied as he pulled Pony off the couch. “Let’s get you to bed, little buddy.”
Ponyboy’s bed had never been as comfortable as it was right now. “Hang tight for just a minute,” Darry said as he pulled the covers up to Pony’s chin, “I’m going to grab a few things.”
Pony watched as he walked out of the room. He heard Darry walk to the kitchen, then into the bathroom, then back to the living room. He thought he could make out his voice for a moment, and confirmed that when he heard the sound of the telephone hitting the receiver. Before he could give the phone call too much thought, Darry reappeared in the doorway.
He measured out a dose of medicine and handed Pony a glass of water to wash it down. He tucked another pillow behind his head, placed the water on the night stand with lozenges and tissues and vaporub before placing a cool washcloth on his face and a hot water bottle in his arms. Pony sighed contently. He knew his big brother would be able to fix him up.
“Is that better?” He asked, taking a seat in the chair by Pony’s desk.
“Yeah,” he yawned. “You always know what to do.”
Darry laughed a little bit. Pony wasn’t totally sure why. “You need anything else, or are you ready for a nap?”
“Nap sounds good.”
Darry stood up to leave. “Okay little brother, sleep tight. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Before he made it to the door, Pony had one more thing weighing on his mind that he needed to know.
“Hey Darry?” Ponyboy stooped him as he reached the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“What do you and Soda always whisper about when I’m not there?”
Pony could tell by Darry’s face that this was not the question he was expecting. He tried to quickly adjust his expression, but Pony had already seen what he thought. “We don’t talk about anything in particular. Just trying to keep it down so we don’t bother you.”
“Do you talk about me?”
Darry’s eyes met his. “Yeah, sometimes. We also talk about work and the gang and groceries. It’s the same as when you and Soda talk before you fall asleep.”
Pony didn’t know what to say. He didn’t realize that Darry knew he and Soda talked every night. He hoped that he didn’t listen too closely to a lot of the things he had said because he knew they were not kind. But he didn’t only say mean things, especially about Darry. He knew better than that. Maybe he didn’t always have good things to say about his teammates or peers, but he kept the family slander to a minimum anymore. The more he thought about it, the more Darry’s answer made sense. He struggled to pinpoint exactly what he and Soda talked about every night, yet he valued the time spent on them more than what was said. “I guess we talk about a lot of random things too,” he finally said.
Another beat passed and Darry turned to leave the room. “Darry?”
He turned back around “Yeah, Kiddo?”
Ponyboy paused for a second, a little scared to hear the answer to his next question. “Why don’t you and I ever talk like that?”
The question hung between them for a minute, neither knowing exactly what to say next. They couldn’t say ‘Soda’s easier to talk to than you’, but the unspoken answer was too loud to ignore.
Darry sat down in the chair and finally responded. “I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” Pony agreed. That was easier than telling Darry the truth.
“Would you like to?”
‘More than anything,’ he thought. “We could try it sometime,” he replied.
Darry slid his chair closer to the bed and leaned closer to Pony. “Then let me tell you about the terrible client we did work for today,” he began, voice low.
Pony leaned back against the pillows and listened as his brother described the nightmare of a homeowner who knocked down the ladder and refused to put it back up, how the team eventually got down, and a well deserved lunch break. The next thing he knew, Pony was describing the senior on the track team who seemed to think he was the best thing since sliced bread. The conversation turned out the be easier than he thought. It wasn’t like talking to Soda, who provided constant commentary and seemed to be a million places at once, yet entirely grounded in the conversation and providing the necessary support all at the same time, but talking to Darry was comfortable.
Darry listened to his whole story, nodding along and taking in the details as if to analyze the events before commenting. He always seemed to be able to tie his own experience to the events and feelings Pony described. Pony hadn’t considered exactly how alike he and Darry were, but now that the fact was right in front of him, he couldn’t ignore it. But this didn’t make him uncomfortable. As he let the knowledge that he and Darry had more in common than either of them had acknowledged before sink in, the idea settled in the back of his fevered brain. Not something to nag him constantly, but something to remember when he and Darry fought or when he wished Soda was there.
“…but Soda doesn’t know that yet,” Darry finished, “I think I’ll tell him that I know pretty soon, but for now, that’s between you and me, little man.”
Pony yawned. “My lips are sealed, Darry.” As much as he had enjoyed the conversation, he was absolutely ready for the nap he’d been sent to take 20 minutes ago.
“Glad to hear it. Ready to get some sleep?” Darry stood up to leave again.
Pony nodded. And Darry once again made his way to the doorway. “Dar?”
Darry sighed as he turned around. “Hmm?”
“It was nice talking to you.”
“You too, Pone. See you in the morning.”
Ponyboy felt a smile creep across his face as he closed his eyes and Darry finally closed the door.
- Spring 1967(15/17/22)
Ponyboy didn’t know what he had done to deserve his brothers, who loved him unconditionally. As he grew older, he had an easier time recognizing the things they did for him. Not that he didn’t see them before, but he now could acknowledge that they often had little to gain from the things they gave up for him. Darry worked long hours every day so he could dream about leaving Tulsa. Soda picked up extra shifts so Darry didn’t have to work so hard. Darry cooked and cleaned and kept the house running so he and Soda had some semblance of normalcy and routine in their lives. Pony knew things were different from how they were before mom and dad died, but he wasn’t bothered by these changes so much anymore. Nothing that he wouldn’t have preferred if things had gone a different way, but he didn’t feel empty and lost anymore. Not when Darry asked him how school was when he saw him every evening. Not when Soda held him at night when his nightmares came back. it was never going to be the same as when mom and dad were around, but he knew his brothers were doing the best they could with what they were given and he had nothing but respect and gratitude for their efforts.
As time passed, he felt them return to the people who he had known them to be before their lives had been flipped upside down and then sideways again. He saw joy sparkle in Soda’s eyes again and he saw tension leaving Darry’s shoulders when he returned home and he couldn’t help but be happy that his brothers were okay.
Trying to get back to whatever “normal” meant for them these days hadn’t been easy, but Pony found himself diving headfirst back into things that weren’t built upon grief—the things that brought him a sense of happiness and peace that he craved. And in times of trouble, he found himself returning back to one of his first loves: running.
Ponyboy loved running. He always had. It was one of the only things in the world that made everything else go quiet. When he ran, it didn’t matter what paper he needed to turn in or what Darry was unhappy about or whether or not Soda had time to hang out with him that day. When he ran, he could breathe. He could finally think about everything or nothing at all, whatever felt right.
And now, his ability to run fast didn’t just make him the coolest kid in his elementary school class, like it once had. Instead, it gave him a chance of getting an athletic scholarship and getting out of Tulsa once and for all. Track was an escape—from the thoughts that raced in his mind that he tried his hardest to outrun and from the town he had always dreamed of leaving.
The track meet that day was a big one. Regionals. His chance to prove himself. Pony had made varsity as a freshman and Darry had been bragging about it to anyone who stood still long enough to listen. Soda even made a stupid little sign that said “GO PONY” in crooked red letters. They were both in the stands, looking as though they had never been prouder. He told them they didn’t have to do that and warned them not to be too embarrassing, but judging by the tomfoolery they were currently committing with the help of Steve and Two-Bit, he had guessed they’d chosen to ignore his suggestions in favor of being the best cheerleaders in the bleachers. But if he was being honest with himself, that meant the entire world to him.
He was halfway through the 400m when it happened. One second, he was pushing himself harder. Faster. Legs burning, lungs tight, the world blurry, exactly how he liked it. The next, something in his knee shifted. He felt a sharp pop and the whole world went sideways. He didn’t even get a full second to brace himself before the ground was inches from his face.
He heard someone shout his name. Then a blur of movement. Then pain. Sharp and awful, like his leg was on fire. He sprawled out on the track, motionless, trying to figure out what went wrong, why he was lying there, and what his coaches would say.
Darry was the first one on the field, even before the coach could reach him. His face was pale, coated in a layer of panic.
“I’ve got him,” Darry told the trainer, already kneeling by Pony’s side. “Don’t move your leg, okay, kid? Just breathe.”
Soda followed seconds later, dropping to his knees on the other side. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed Pony’s hand. When Pony’s eyes met his, they were wide and shiny and scared.
“It’s okay, Pone. You’re okay. We’ve got you,” he said eventually, voice cracking like he was fourteen instead of seventeen.
***
Pony couldn’t remember much right after it happened. Most of it blurred together. A flash of light. A sharp sting in his knee. Voices overlapping. Wailing sirens that echoed as if they were in the distance and not right beside him. Despite the chaos and haze of the moment, a few things stuck; he remembered the important parts.
“We’re right here, Pone,” he heard Soda’s voice say from beside him. “Just hang on, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”
He tried to answer, but he couldn’t. His brain wouldn’t work or his mouth wouldn’t move. Either way, he just laid there motionless, listening to the mess unfold around him.
Darry’s voice cut through the “Don’t try to move, bud. Let the EMTs do their job.”
Ponyboy kept his eyes closed, but he finally managed to get out a few words. “Darry, please…”
He felt a stiff hand on his right shoulder and a softer one on his left forearm. Even with his eyes closed, could picture the scene around him. Darry with his jaw clenched and eyebrows woven together that way they always did when he was scared but trying not to show it. Soda’s reckless grin and sparkling eyes undone in terror as worry took control of his features and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.
When they got to the hospital, everything happened too quickly. The ambulance doors flew open and he was rushed through pasty white hallways filled with urgent voices and fluorescent lights. He didn’t understand half of what was being said and only caught bits and pieces of the conversation anyways.
“He’s our brother,” Darry snapped when a nurse had closed the door of the room Pony was in. “We’re not leaving him.”
Soda barely let go of the stretcher as she pulled it away, breathless and wide-eyed. “He needs us with him.”
Darry looked like he was going to continue to argue, but a doctor spoke up first, firm but calm. “We need room to work. We’ll tell you as soon as we know anything.”
“Come on, Sodapop,” Darry sighed as Pony felt the last hand slip from his arm. “He’s gonna be okay. We’ll be right outside. Not going anywhere.”
And everything faded out again.
***
When he came to, the room was quiet, but not in the way that felt safe and comfortable. It was the kind of quiet that only existed in the hospital. A kind of muffled silence as though the world beyond the door was doing everything in its power to keep the unknown reality of his situation a secret until they were at last ready to reveal the truth. He didn’t know how much time passed between when he awoke and when the doctor finally appeared in his room. But it was long enough that his mouth was dry, his head hurt, and the excruciating pain he had felt in his knee had dulled to a throb.
The doctor glanced down at his clipboard.
“Torn ligament,” he said plainly, like this was just another day in the office and not a declaration that caused Pony’s world to crumble. “You’ll need surgery, then physical therapy,” he read, eyes not looking up to meet Pony’s. “It could’ve been worse, but you’ll be off that leg for a while. You’ll be out of track for a few months.”
Pony didn’t say anything. A few months. The rest of the season. It was only regionals and his journey was already over.
It didn’t feel real. Not yet. This was someone else’s life that he was just watching—like in the movies. And in an hour, it would all end and he’d go back to his normal life and forget about this for a while. This wasn’t his life. Not without track. Not without his only escape.
The doctor asked him a few questions. Something about pain, something about meds. Pony answered in a haze, the loss of track still hanging over him.
He was relieved when the doctor finally left. The discomfort of hospital quiet settled in again. But before he could try to make sense of anything the doctor had told him or anything that had happened that evening, he drifted back into a restless, anesthetic-induced sleep.
***
When he woke up again, everything was quiet and it was dark outside. The ache in his leg was deep and throbbing, but bearable.
Soda was slumped in the hard metal chair beside the bed, hoodie bunched up behind his head as a makeshift pillow, arm resting on the edge of Pony’s bed. Darry stood by the window, arms crossed, pacing back and forth. Neither of them had gone home.
He started to sit up. Darry’s head whipped around at the first sound of movement. “Hey kiddo,” he walked over to the bed gently shook Soda awake. “How are you doing?”
Soda stirred and slowly wiped the sleep from his eyes. “You really scared us, Pony,” he yawned.
“My bad,” he said, without really thinking about it. “I mean, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Soda said, climbing onto the bed.
“Be gentle, little buddy,” Darry warned from behind him. Soda sat down next to him, careful to avoid bumping Pony’s leg.
Pony smiled. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the treacherous weeks that followed the loss of his best friend, but this time the memory didn’t hurt as much as he expected. Instead, he remembered the looks on his brother’s faces when he had finally woken up at home. How Darry had to stop Soda from jumping onto the bed where he had been laid up for days. How his brothers were patient and responsive the entire time. And how they were doing it again now.
This time, Darry sat down on his other side and he found himself wedged between his big brothers, held so tightly that the pain in his leg was nonexistent.
“Are you going to make me quit track?” he asked after a few minutes, memories of when Soda had torn a ligament a few years ago flooding his brain. Pony didn’t know if he would be able to cope with that.
“Of course not, kiddo,” Darry said softly. “You’ll take the rest of the season to heal and we’ll get you back out there next year.”
Pony looked first to Darry, then to Soda. They both looked so sincere. His track career was far from over.
“What would Dad say?” He thought out loud.
Neither of his brothers responded at first. Then Soda spoke quietly, “Probably the same thing Ma would say if she knew we ate chocolate cake for breakfast every day.”
Pony and Darry laughed a bit. It didn’t seem to hurt as much as he had worried it might. “Remember when she found out we had tried to sneak Johnny’s cat into the bedroom and tracked mud through the whole house?” Pony remembered.
Soda laughed. “Yeah, she nearly lost it. I thought we were done for.”
“Honestly, she was kind for only making us scrub the living room after that one,” Darry added.
“What would you do if we did that now?” Pony asked.
Darry thought for a second. “Hand you a bucket of soapy water and a toothbrush,” he decided, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair.
“She only got mad when you told pony he wasn’t doing it right and ripped the dustpan out of his hands,” Soda recalled.
Pony shrugged. “Hey, I was 6 and I was trying my best.”
Darry shook his head, smiling. “I know you were, but you were a lousy sweeper and I had places to be.”
Soda giggled. “And that’s why Ma had to step in.”
“You don’t have to like them all the time, but you have to love them,” they all said in unison, mimicking the way Mama used to scold them.
Pony watched as Soda leaned back against the wall with the joy of memory still plastered on his face and lighting up his tired eyes. He felt Darry’s hand slip off his arm and slide back to his own lap as a gentle and comfortable silence consumed the room.
Ponyboy blinked up at the ceiling. The meds made his thoughts fuzzy, but he knew enough to recognize the weight in his chest. Not just the weight of being crushed between his brothers—not now that he was taller than Soda and Darry understood his own strength. No, it was a different type of weight. A warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. The warmth of knowing that his favorite people cared enough to stay beside him through the worst parts of his life and stuck around to celebrate the best, even though he never had to ask them to stay. He didn’t have to.
- Fall 1970 (18/20/26)
Ponyboy knew he loved his big brothers more than anything in the world. He knew that no matter what happened, they were always going to be there for him. After all, the three of them had already been through so much together, he wasn’t sure the universe could throw them a challenge worse than what they had already faced. And while he knew his brothers would always be there for him, these days he sometimes found that a little hard to remember. His brothers were back in Tulsa and he had finally left. It had been two months since Pony had arrived at Kenyon College for the part of his life he’d been waiting for.
Yet despite this being everything he’d wanted, he couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. At night, he fell asleep in his very own ten foot shoebox, in a bed he slept in alone. He woke up to the sound of an alarm clock and had to trek across campus for breakfast. He ran into strangers in the hallway and got home in the evening with no one to tell about the trials of his day.
He had made some friends already— a few in his classes and on the track team—but he missed his friends at home. He missed waking up and seeing Steve asleep on the couch or hearing Two-Bit walk in the front door. He wanted to walk into the living room and see Darry cooking dinner and Soda watching cartoons as they dropped what they were doing to greet him. He wanted to feel Soda’s arms wrap around his chest as Darry asked him about his history test.
As he lay awake in his dark dorm, for the first time since he had gotten to school, he really wished he were home.
He must have been awake for hours, just staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep while his thoughts spun. He looked over at the clock: 1:02 am. Absolutely too late. Yet that didn’t seem to stop him from walking down the hall to the phone. His thoughts raced as he dialed a number he knew from memory. Crossing his fingers, he desperately hoped his call would go through.
“Hello?” His big brother’s voice answered from hundreds of miles away.
“Darry?”
“Hey kiddo. It’s the middle of the night. What’s going on?”
He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized he wasn’t disappointed that it was Darry who picked up the phone. “I couldn’t sleep and I missed you guys and I wanted—I needed to talk to you.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What do you need to talk about?”
“I don’t know, I just needed to talk to you.” He suddenly felt silly. Here he was, supposedly an adult, standing in his pajamas in the hallway of the dorms of the school he had always dreamed about, calling the home he never thought he’d miss to talk to one of the people he needed more than anything.
He heard some shuffling in his living room, then a muffled shout followed by Darry’s reply: “Yeah, it’s Pony.”
“Hey Pony, how’ve you been?” He heard Soda’s sleepy voice say.
“I’m good. School’s great, but,” he paused, “but I miss you guys. Sorry for calling so late.” I just want to hear your voices and talk to you and feel something familiar, he thought.
For a second, he thought he must have said it out loud, because they seemed to understand.
“We got you, buddy,” he heard Darry say, “Tell us about what you’re doing in your writing class.”
A wave of relief washed over him. A pang of comfort and security that he hadn’t felt in years filled his chest as he began to describe the story he’d been drafting and his brothers told him everything and nothing about how things had been in Tulsa and before he knew it, he was home.