Archive of Our Own

“Here we are, Ponyboy,” The social worker said. Ponyboy had never bothered to learn her name; she was nice, sure, but Pony knew she was just like the rest of them. Once she dropped him off at a new, shitty house with shitty foster parents, she would completely forget about him until she got a call that he was in the hospital or something. She would go home to her husband and two kids, to her happy life, while he was suffering. Well, Pony supposed he couldn’t blame her. He would also disconnect from his pitiful life if he wasn’t the one living it.

“Ponyboy, are you there? We’re here at your new home.” Pony could hardly hide his scoff. His new home. What a joke, he thought.

“Listen, I know you’ve had some – some rough placements. But this family looks promising. It’s just two brothers, not too much older than you. No parents. You’ll be okay here, Ponyboy.” She said. Her name started with an M or something. Maybe Molly, or Margaret. Pony decided it was best if he didn’t say anything in response. He did that a lot these days, especially after his last placement. Melinda opened the door, prompting Pony to do the same. He grabbed his backpack from the back of the car – it was pretty sad-looking, all ripped and frayed, but it was the only thing that had been with him since the beginning. It wasn’t even from his mama or anything, it was just given to him by the state when he first entered the system.

He and Monica walked up to the door. The paint on the walls was chipping off, and the steps creaked with a little pressure on them, and there were leaves and cigarette burn marks all over the porch, but something about it appealed to Pony. He figured these brothers were pretty poor – it really didn’t take a genius to figure that out. He briefly wondered what happened to their parents before snapping out of it. He didn’t care about them – he couldn’t. He would be gone in a few weeks anyway.

Marilyn knocked on the door, and it opened up almost immediately to reveal a tall, young man, probably in his early twenties, with dark hair and tired, icy eyes. He looked pretty strong. His punches would probably be painful, Pony surmised. Marlene snapped into character quickly.

“Hello Mr. Curtis, I’m Nancy Abbott, I spoke with you on the phone earlier today,” Well, Pony was close enough with the name, “and this is Ponyboy. Thank you for taking him in on such short notice. It should hopefully only be a few weeks before we can place him in a new home or facility.”

Pony flinched at the word facility. He knew what that meant: a boy’s home. He would run away before that ever happened. He was pretty fast if he said so himself – he had been on the track team during one of his longer stays.

“It’s no problem at all, we’re more than happy to have him,” the man said, his voice calm and honest. There wasn’t anything fake about him, though the way he said it was more out of duty than warmth. Still, it made Ms. Abbott smile like he’d just handed her flowers.

“Hi Ponyboy, I’m Darrel, but everyone calls me Darry.” Ponyboy was surprised by how deep his voice was. He spoke with a tired lilt to his voice, one that seemed better fit for someone closer to age fifty.

“Nice to meetcha, sir.” Ponyboy mumbled, looking down at his shoes. They had holes all over them; when it rained, he could feel the water getting into his socks. He got real sick from that once. His foster mom at the time wasn’t too thrilled.

“Ponyboy, look at Darrel when you’re talking to him,” Ms. Abbott said, not unkindly. Pony slowly raised his head up to look at Darrel. His icy blue-green eyes were startling.

“It’s no problem, ma’am, he’s just settlin’ in,” Darrel said, before turning his focus on Pony, “Is that all your stuff or do ya need help bringin’ more in?”

“Uh, no,” Pony started, “No, this is it.” All he had was a few old shirts and a pair of jeans. He knew most foster boys had something special to them that they carried around, but Pony didn’t. He supposed it was better this way – nobody could use anything against him.

“Alright then. Thank you, Ms. Abbott. Ponyboy, why don’t you come inside,” Darrel said politely, still with a charming smile. The social worker took the hint and said her goodbyes before getting back inside her car. Ponyboy walked inside, looking around.

The inside of the house wasn’t much nicer than outside; the paint was even more chipped indoors, and the floors were pretty dirty. However, despite the appearance, Pony liked the place; it seemed homey. He could tell people had fun here. There were blankets strewn over the couches and chairs, a chocolate cake cooling off on the stove. It was a real change of pace from the detached houses Pony had lived in before.

“I asked the guys not to come over too early, but I’m sure you’ll meet ‘em soon,” Darry was saying, “My kid brother ain’t here right now, but he’ll be comin’ back in a bit. He picked up a last minute shift, he’s real disappointed he ain’t gonna be the first to meet you.” A quick smile flashed on his face, but it quickly disappeared. Pony was surprised – when Darry said he had a kid brother, he figured he meant a ten year old or something, but if he had a job, that meant he was probably a little older than Pony.

“What does he do?” Pony asked, voice raspy.

“He works at the DX, it’s a gas station close by. Him and our buddy Steve’re pretty good with cars,” Darry explained. Ponyboy nodded in response. “You wanna see your room? You’ll be sharin’ with Soda. But if you’d rather have your own, I can move him to mine —”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Pony cut him off, “Sorry. It’s fine. I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“It ain’t a bother, really. Whatever makes ya comfortable.”

“However y’all planned it is fine by me.” Pony shrugged.

“Alright then,” Darry started walking, and Pony followed, “This is it. It’s pretty small, but Soda mostly hangs out in the livin’ room, so you’ll have it to yourself most of the time,” Pony stepped inside. It was very boyish, walls covered in posters of cars and girls, but Pony liked it. It had personality.

“It’s nice,” Pony said, honestly.

“You can put your stuff in this drawer for now, and if you need more room you can put it next to Soda’s stuff, he don’t mind nothin’,” Darry said. Pony listened and dutifully put his few clothes away. Darry leaned against the doorframe, watching. “So how old are ya? You look awfully young.” He asked.

Pony looked at him, confused. “I’m fourteen. Ain’t it in my file?” Pony didn’t even want to imagine all the horrible things about him that were in his file. He was sure there were plenty of notes in there from all his past foster families.

“I didn’t read it. My buddy Dallas said those things ain’t real accurate. Soda said we could just talk to you instead.” Darry said. Pony looked at him then – really looked. Darry was buff, but his shoulders were tight with stress. His jaw clenched every few seconds out of habit. Pony thought about the stack of bills on the kitchen counter. Judging by the stack of bills Pony had noticed on the kitchen counter, the stress was money related. It was always money related.

“You guys have a lot of buddies?” Pony asked, keeping his voice casual. Darry had mentioned his friends a few times, so Pony figured they were pretty important to him.

“Yeah, we do. Six of us total — well, seven now with you. They come over all the time. Don’t worry, they’re harmless. Loud, though,” Darry said. Pony just hummed, unsure what to say.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I have work in an hour, but Soda’ll be home soon,” Darry paused, “He’s the talker in the family, but don’t let him scare you.”

“Thank you for taking me in, sir,” Pony said quietly, remembering his manners classes at his last foster center.

“Just call me Darry, kid,” Darry said before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Pony didn’t know what else to do, so he laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The mattress was springy in the middle and a little lumpy on one side, but it was still better than the sleeping bags he was used to. He pulled the blanket up halfway, even though he wasn’t cold.

He thought about Darry. He was nice enough. Tired. Guarded. Like someone who’d been holding the weight of the world up for a little too long. Pony couldn’t help wondering what he was like under all that.

He was curious to know more about the other brother, Soda. What an odd name. Why did Darry get a normal name and Soda got stuck with a weird one? Maybe it was a nickname. Pony made a mental note to ask around later. After what seemed like an eternity of trying to fall asleep, he heard voices coming from the living room.

“What was he like, Dar? Can I meet him? I’m dyin’ to meet him Dar, please,” he heard a sing-songy voice. He guessed that was Soda.

“He’s a nice kid, seemed pretty shy. Don’t go getting attached though, ya hear me? The lady said this is just for a few weeks.” Darry said. Getting attached? Why would anyone get attached to him? They would probably be begging him to leave by the time his social worker came to pick him up.

“What’s his name? How old is he?” Soda asked. Pony imagined Darry shaking his head.

“Go ask him yourself, I gotta go to work. Two called, him n’ the rest are bringin’ dinner.”

“Sounds good, I’m gonna go meet our newest ‘lil brother,” Soda said. Ponyboy heard him skipping down the hall before he heard a soft knocking on the door.

“Hey there, can I come in?” He heard from the other side.

“Yeah, sure.” Pony croaked. The door opened slowly. Soda looked nothing like Darry. He was shorter, and blonder, and he had a spark in his eyes that made him look boyish. He was also real handsome – Pony wondered if he was some kind of movie star or something. Soda was staring at him, and Pony started squirming.

“Sorry ‘m in your bed–” Pony started, just to break the ice. 

"No, no! It’s no problem, really. We’re gonna be sharin’ at night anyway. I’m Sodapop, your new brother,”

“Foster brother,” Pony corrected swiftly. Soda was exactly the type of person Pony would become attached to, and that was the last thing that could happen. “I’m Ponyboy.”

Sodapop took the curt response in stride, moving to lie down in bed next to Pony. “Well, tell me about yourself! I’ll start, I work down at the DX with my best buddy Steve. I dropped outta school a few months ago, so I work there full time now, but I like it real good. Anyways, I gotta girl, her name’s Sandy, she’s real pretty. You can ask me anything, really, I gotta feelin’ we gon’ be real close.”

“What are the rest of your gang like?” Ponyboy asked, “Darrel too.”

“Oh, you can call him Darry,” Soda said quickly. “He don’t like Darrel. Says it makes him sound like an old man. He’s really only twenty, not that much older than the rest of us. Works too hard, if you ask me, but he means well.”

“Well, I’ll tell ya ‘bout Steve first. He’s a smart guy, real good with cars and whatnot. Pretty cocky, but nothin’ too crazy. Then there’s Two-Bit, we call him that ‘cause he always feels the need to get his two bits in. Funny guy, but not all that much up there, not that I can be talking,” Soda chuckled. Pony got the impression this guy was a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for. Maybe not academically, but in something else. Some of the smartest guys Pony knew got straight F’s on their report cards,

“Well, next is Johnny, he’s a shy kid. I’ve barely heard him talk, honestly. Real sweet though. He mostly hangs out with Dally.”

“Who’s Dally? Darr - Darry mentioned him too.”

“Well, he’s a real piece of work. Apparently he killed a few guys in New York, and that’s why he ran away down here. Oh, but don’t worry ‘bout nothin’, he won’t do nothin’ to you. He respects Darry a good amount, enough to keep him in line and everything. He likes pickin’ on the Socs though – you know what a Soc is, right?” Soda asked. Pony nodded. It was hard not to, really. Everyone in Oklahoma knew about the class divide in Tulsa. Pony had never lived in Tulsa exactly, but he’d lived close enough to know which side he belonged on.

“Well yeah, Dal likes to beat on ‘em. Especially if they do somethin’ to one of us. They mostly mess with Johnny though. He’s kind of the weakest. Hey, don’t say nothing ‘bout Johnny’s scars, savvy? He got jumped by a few socs just last week.”

“I won’t say nothin’,” Pony promised. Honestly, talking to Soda was a lot. The boy had infinite energy, more than Pony had ever had in his life. He liked it though; Sodapop seemed sincere, way more honest than his older brother.

“Tell me about yourself though! Where are you from? Wait, how old are you?”

“I’m fourteen. ’m from a few towns over, but I’ve been jumpin’ around the past few years. I lived in Texas for a few months.” Pony said. Texas was nice, but he much preferred Oklahoma.

“Yeah? Which part?” Soda asked.

“Near Fort Worth. But I’m real happy to be back.” Pony said.

Him and Soda ended up talking for hours. Soda told him about the greasers, about Sandy, about everything really, and Pony mainly talked about what he was into, like reading and writing. This was the most anyone had gotten Pony to talk in years. When he was younger, living with his mama, she could hardly get him to shut up. Pony avoided talking about his former foster families, and Soda didn’t pry. That was one thing Pony liked about Soda; he was real good at reading the room and knowing what to ask. Maybe that was what he was smart at. Soon, the light from outside started dimming, signaling sundown.

“Hey, didn’t Darry say somethin’ about people comin’ for dinner?” Pony asked, sitting up.

“Yeah he did, why? Do you not want them to come? I can tell the boys to shove off.” Soda pushed himself up and towards the door.

“No, no. I just – shouldn’t we make the table and stuff?” It was practically engraved in Pony’s body to get up and dutifully do chores – making the table, washing all the dishes after dinner, making all the beds. Most families only saw him as a live-in housekeeper, rather than a potential member of the family.

“Yeah, we can,” Soda started slowly, “but normally the rest of the boys do that, since they’re always mooching off our food and stuff.”

“Oh,” Pony said, dumbly, “That’s real nice.”

Soda smiled softly, “It is, ain’t it? You’ll like the boys, I can tell. You’ll fit right in.”

Pony didn’t know what to say in response, so he elected to say nothing. He would be gone in a few weeks, he kept reminding himself. No matter how nice and comforting Soda was, it wouldn’t be enough to keep him here. Eventually, the cookie would crumble, and Pony would end up in the hospital again wondering why no one wanted him. So, instead of agreeing with Soda, he just followed him into the living room, where there was already a boy Pony hadn’t seen before lying down on the couch.

“Steve! Why didn’tcha say you were here?” Soda exclaimed. Steve shrugged.

“Figured you weren’t home or something. This the kid? He’s small.” Steve said.

“Well it’s no wonder, I’m fourteen,” Pony mumbled. Soda heard, choking on his own laughter, but Steve either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“This is Ponyboy – do people ever call ya Pony?” Soda asked. Pony nodded carefully.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Pony said. When he was younger, he hadn’t even known his full name was Ponyboy, since no one ever called him that. The first time he had ever sat through school attendance, he was real confused, wondering why they’d gotten confused with his name and added the boy part at the end. It had been a while since anyone had called him that though.

“Well, it’s nice to meetcha, Ponyboy. I’m Steve,” he said, still lying down on the couch. Pony waved and briefly wondered what Soda saw in him. He’d expected Soda’s best friend to be a bit more lively and cool.

“Nice to meetcha,” Pony said, politely. Something about this guy rubbed him the wrong way.

“When are the rest of the guys comin’ over? I want him to meet Johnny, I think they’ll get along real well,” Soda said, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Steve finally stood up and turned to face Pony.

“Hey, make sure you don’t say nothin’ ‘bout–” The boy started.

“About his scars, I already told him Steve. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Pony here’s real smart.” Soda reached out to pat Pony on the shoulder, but Pony flinched away. Luckily, Soda played it off, acting like he was going to ruffle his own hair.

“So what, you into school and stuff?” Steve asked.

“I like it good enough,” Pony shrugged.

“What grade you in, eighth?”

“I’m a freshman,” Pony said, “I got moved up.”

“Damn!” Soda exclaimed, “We got a real genius in the family!” Pony shook his head quickly, figuring that Soda was teasing him or that he was coming across too cocky. That was the last thing he wanted.

Right before Soda could say anything else, three new people walked in. Two were tall, probably closer to Darry’s height, but one was small, a little smaller than Pony. The small one was closed on himself, back hunched and eyes wary. The tallest one had a crooked grin on his face and a cigarette in hand, laughing with the other tall one, who wore overalls and had a bright smile. Pony recognized the tallest one from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

“Hey hey! This the new kid? Good to seeya kid, I’m Two-Bit,” One of the tall ones said, shaking Pony’s hand before plopping himself down in front of the TV. Soda’s descriptions were all insanely accurate.

“Hey kid, I’m Dally and this right here’s Johnny,” Dally pointed to the smaller kid. The scars weren’t even that bad – nothing Pony hadn’t seen before. The rest of the boys were already arguing, debating about Mickey Mouse versus some other cartoon Pony hadn’t heard of.

“Hi, I’m Ponyboy.” He said, meekly. Johnny got pulled into the argument with the other side of the room, so Pony was left with Dally. The boy was intimidating – way more than Darry or even Steve, but Pony still felt like he recognized him, “You wouldn’t happen to be Dallas Winston, are ya?”

“That’s my name,” Dally sighed, putting his cigarette up to his mouth, “What, do I know ya or somethin’? You a long-lost brother?”

“No, nothin’ like that. It’s just – well, you’re pretty famous to us foster kids. We all heard ‘bout whatcha did to the Mitchell’s,” Pony’s eyes lit up. Dallas Winston was like an urban legend – no one had ever truly seen him, but everyone knew him. No one would believe him when he went back and said he met the Dallas Winston.

“No shit?” Dally laughed, “Yeah, well, it’s all true – probably. You been with the Mitchell’s?”

“Yeah, I lived with ‘em right before you, I think. I was probably ‘round twelve or eleven.” Pony recalled. He’d caused a lot of trouble in that house – the dad was absolutely horrible, and the mom was worse, impossibly so.

“Hold up, you’re that Pony? I always thought they were complainin’ ‘bout an old horse or somethin’!” Dally said. Pony started laughing.

“Yeah, I hated that damn house. Went through a lot of trouble to get out,” Pony shook his head. It felt nice talking about his former houses with someone who really understood.

“You’re an alright kid. Hey, you want a cigarette?” Dally asked, handing one out to him. Pony took it. He hadn’t had a cigarette for a while, but he used to be addicted. The withdrawals were hellish, so he tried not to indulge too often, in case they were taken away again.

“Do ya think Soda n’ Darry’ll be mad?” Pony asked.

“You ain’t gotta worry about them. Darry’s good, I swears it. Yer part of their family now.” Dally said, leaning in towards Pony. Something about him made Pony want to believe him.

“Foster family,” Pony corrected softly. 

“Don’t do that, Pony, c’mon,” Dally shook his head, “Ya want some advice? The Curtis boys are the best foster family yer gonna get ‘round these parts, so make the most of it. Savvy?” His voice was stern, a real change from the casual, lazy guy Pony was talking to a few seconds prior.

Pony scoffed. “Sure, I savvy.”

Maybe he was wrong – maybe Dally didn’t really understand. After all, Dallas Winston had only been in the system for three months before he’d made his great escape. He hadn’t seen all that Pony’d seen. It was Pony’s fault, really, for thinking he could connect with anyone about his experiences. He took a puff of the cigarette in his hand before moving towards the couch, taking a spot next to Johnny. Johnny seemed to be the pet of the group, awfully sheltered and cared for.

“Hi Ponyboy,” Johnny said quietly. It was the first time Pony had heard him talk.

“Hey Johnny. What’s goin’ on?” Pony asked, shifting his body to find the most comfortable position. No one around seemed to care much for formalities, anyway.

“Steve and Two-Bit are arguin’ ‘bout who’s better-lookin’. They do this all the time, n’ it always ends in them rumblin’.” Johnny explained, shaking his head.

“Yeah? Who wins?” Pony asked.

“Normally Steve, but I guess it depends. Sometimes Dal joins in for fun, so he wins.” Johnny explained. As soon as Johnny mentioned Darry, the man himself walked through the door.

“I’m home, who’s here?” Darry called out, walking into the kitchen and putting a few bags down on the counter.

“We all are, idiot, we’ve been waitin’ on you forever!” Two-Bit whined. Darry walked over and cuffed the back of his head, although laughing slightly.

“What’s in the bags?” Soda asked, standing up from his spot on the floor.

“Well, I’m actually glad you asked,” Darry said, spinning around to make eye contact with Pony, “Ponyboy, I got you a few shirts. I noticed your other ones were a little, um, worse for wear.” Pony looked down at the shirt he was wearing. Darry was right – somehow Pony hadn’t noticed the holes littering the edges and the stains all around it. Pony flushed, looking down at the ground.

“Thank you sir, that’s - that’s real nice. I hope it wasn’t too much,” Pony said. He knew Dally was smirking on the other side of the room, that asshole.

“It’s no problem, really,” Darry waved him off, “We’re family friends with the owner of the place, so they always give us discounts.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” Pony mumbled, still flushing and looking at the ground.

“Aww, the kid is blushing! Nice goin’ Dar, good move,” Two-Bit said, making air-pokes at Pony. Pony scowled.

Soda clapped his hands. “Well, should we eat guys? Steve’s mom sent over some chili, and I made chocolate cake for dessert!” he called out.

Everyone clamored over to the table, Pony following suit and sitting down between Johnny and Soda. Darry put all the food buffet-style on the table, while Two-Bit and Steve went around putting plates and utensils in front of everyone. It seemed like a practiced ritual, honestly. Pony felt like he was intruding on something that wasn’t meant for his eyes. Dally quickly started piling food on his plate once Steve and Two-Bit sat down, which Pony took as a signal for him to do the same. Soon, everyone had food in front of them, and they all started stuffing their faces.

In front of Pony was chili, rice, and some vegetables he couldn’t really name – they tasted real good though. He wondered who made them, but looking at Steve’s prideful expression as Johnny complimented them, he could place a pretty educated guess.

“So Pony, whaddaya into?” Two-Bit asked, food in his mouth while he spoke. Pony swallowed and took a swing of water before starting his answer.

“I like readin’. And movies, I guess. Runnin’. I dunno,” Pony flickered out, shying away from all eyes on him.

“You into football? We norm’lly go out and play a few games before dessert,” Darry asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay at it. Haven’t played in a bit though,” Pony shrugged.

“Well then you’ll have to be on my team,” Darry offered him a smile, “I’m not bad, if I say so myself.” There were some chuckles from the boys around him, and Pony looked around, confused. Did Darry suck or something? His shoulders were pretty built, and he had a football-player build. Maybe he was just genetically un-athletic. That was pretty common – Pony used to know a kid who looked like he could be a soccer star, but he really couldn’t put two feet in front of him without tripping.

“Darry’s real good at football,” Johnny leaned over and explained quietly, while Steve started talking loudly, “He wipes the floor with all o’ us. He got a scholarship to play football in college, but when their parents died, he declined it.”

“So they died recently?” Pony whispered back.

“Yeah, six months ago or so. It was real tough on them both,” Johnny said, before turning his attention back to the conversation. By that point, the conversation was too evolved for Pony to follow, so he focused on his food. It was the best meal he’d had in a while. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so much. He felt someone nudge his side. It was Soda.

“You okay?” Soda mouthed when Pony turned to look at him. Pony just stared back, shocked by the caring look in his eyes, before nodding slightly. Soon enough, dinner was finished, and all the food was gone. Pony thought for sure there would be enough for leftovers, but he guessed not with seven hungry boys scarfing down the food.

“Let’s head down to the lot,” Darry said, standing up and pushing his chair back. Everyone else waited for the oldest as he grabbed the football from his bedroom, and then followed him outside and to the lot, doing cartwheels and somersaults the entire way. Pony walked normally next to Johnny, since they were engrossed in their own little world.

“So you like readin’? Like what?” Johnny inquired.

“Well, right now I’m readin’ Gone with the Wind, but my favorite book is Great Expectations.” Pony answered.

“It must be nice to be real good at readin’,” Johnny said, wistfully, “I’m awfully bad at it.”

“I’ll have to read to you sometime then,” Pony said, surprising himself.

“Really? You’d do that?” Johnny perked up. Pony mentally prided himself for saying the right thing – he was starting to see why Johnny was so cherished within the group. Something about him really drew you in. Maybe it was the sad puppy-dog look in his eyes.

“Definitely. Next time you come over.” Pony promised, as they kept walking. Once they arrived at the lot, which really wasn’t too far from the Curtis residence, the boys swiftly made their way into two groups: Darry, Two-Bit, and Johnny on one side, and Soda, Steve, and Dally on the other. Pony realized that he was the one making the group an odd number. Pretty symbolic, if you asked him.

“Pony, come on our side,” Darry called out, “It’s a guaranteed win.” Pony cracked a smile and listened, moving over to stand next to Johnny.

“You any competitive?” Two-Bit asked him.

Pony smiled shyly. “A little,” He shrugged.

“We’ll see ‘bout that,” Darry said, pulling the three other boys into a group huddle,

“Alright listen up, I dunno ‘bout how you play, Pony, but Two-Bit is gonna spike the ball to me, and then I’ll throw it to either you or Johnny. Savvy?” Pony just nodded in response. Darry was obviously settling into his domain, and Pony was gonna try his best not to ruin it.

The game started normally, a little trash-talk from both teams, as they all took their positions. Following his word, Two-Bit gave the ball to Darry, who looked like a professional as he started moving and scanning the field for someone to throw the ball to. Pony ran towards the end zone as fast as he could, passing Soda and Dally on the way, before reaching his hands up, signalling for a pass. Darry noticed him and threw the ball perfectly into his hands, and Pony turned and ran into the endzone, scoring them a touchdown. Darry, Two-Bit, and Johnny all sprinted over to him, hooting and hollering. Pony flinched away but then braced for the impact as all three crashed into him and knocked him over. 

"No freaking way!” Johnny exclaimed.

“Nice one, Ponykid,” Two-Bit shook him.

“You’re good, Pony!” Darry grinned, “You’re real good!”

Pony beamed for the first time in a long time. He felt hope swell in his chest before shoving it back down, back where it belonged. 

The next few days were fun – more fun than Pony would like to admit. He began noticing that it wasn’t too often that the entire gang hung out together; they mostly hung out in groups of two or three, and then reconvened for dinner and football at night, whenever Steve or Two-Bit didn’t have to go home with their families. Pony didn’t mind much though. He found his place hanging out with Johnny and Dally. They spent most days walking around town, then going to the drive-in or the park at night. Dally was cool, but Pony found himself enjoying Johnny’s company more. Dally kept being all smug whenever Pony said anything good about the Curtis’. Sure, they were the best family Pony’d ever been with, but it wasn’t like the bar was real high. Darry wasn’t too strict on him, letting him stay out for long periods of time as long as he made it home around dinnertime, and Soda was great too. Him and Pony spent hours looking up at the ceiling and just talking about random things that crossed their minds. Soda didn’t even seem to mind the fact that Pony had recurring nightmares that often woke both the boys up. It was nice, and Pony was trying to heed Dally’s advice and enjoy his time with the Curtis’, but he couldn’t help but feel like the other shoe was about to drop.

On Monday, Dally said he was gonna go over and bother Tim Shepard, and Johnny said he had to go to school since he’d skipped every day the past week. So Pony decided to just stay at the Curtis household, reading and lying in bed all day. He figured he’d do some chores around the house so he wasn’t completely useless; he stood up and walked out to the kitchen. He was surprised when he saw Darry sitting at the table, piles of bills surrounding him and head in hands. His head snapped up when he heard Pony’s footsteps.

“Hey Pony,” the man said, “I thought you were hangin’ out with Johnny today.”

“He said he had to go to school,” Pony explained, sitting down in the chair next to Darry, “I was just gonna help clean the kitchen.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I got it. Your social worker just called.” Darry subtly pushed the bills out of Pony’s eyeline. His tone wasn’t harsh, just tired.

“Yeah? What’d she say?” Pony asked, looking down at the table. He wished Darry wouldn’t tell him anything.

“She just asked how you were settlin’ in. If things were workin’ out.” Darry nudged Pony lightly, a signal for him not to worry too much. “I said you were doin’ fine.”

“Am I?” Pony asked, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“You tell me,” Darry’s eyes were fixed on Pony. “You likin’ it here?”

“I am,” Pony said slowly, “You n’ the gang have been awfully nice to me.” Darry leaned back in his seat, putting the heels of his hands to his eyes and rubbing them.

“Ponyboy, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it,” Darry started, “You’re a good kid. Hell, Soda’s already halfway to callin’ you his twin. But when I first said yes to takin’ you in, it was ‘cause the state was breathin’ down my neck about Soda.”

Pony looked down at the table. He felt the sting of rejection before the rest even came.

“They said if I couldn’t prove I could handle everything, they’d ship him off to a boys home till he aged out.” Darry explained, voice quiet now. “Having a foster kid is part of me provin’ I could step up.”

Pony nodded, electing not to verbalize his response. He silently wished a black hole would appear in the middle of the living room and suck him up.

“But it ain’t just for that anymore. Your social worker asked if we could keep ya for at least another month, and I said yes, so you’re here for at least that long,” Darry continued. He put his hand up to Pony’s shoulder for a second, squeezed it, then let go,

“So I’m enrolling ya in school, savvy? It’ll give ya somethin’ to do at least.”

“That would be great,” Pony said. His throat felt like it was closing up, but he let out a sigh of relief. He had a month – he could let himself enjoy this for a month. He could pretend this was his forever home, like it was some fairytale.

“Thanks Darry.” He stood up, pushing the chair back behind him.

“Hey, how ‘bout we do somethin’ after I finish takin’ care of this stuff? Wanna go on a run?” Darry asked. Pony was surprised – Darry never seemed to do anything other than work and worry.

“Yeah, that actually sounds real nice.” 

It took Darry an hour and a half to wrap up his paperwork. Pony tried to stay out of his way during that time, but he did end up reorganizing the kitchen before moving on to tidy up his and Soda’s room. By the time Darry finished, it was around lunch time, so Pony made two sandwiches – one with bacon and cheese for him, and one with bacon and tomato for Darry, just the way the man liked it. He brought over the dishes to the table, where Darry was cleaning up the piles in front of him.

“Oh, thanks Pony,” Darry said, grabbing his plate from Pony’s hands before the boy dropped it,

“I wasn’t gonna eat nothin’.”

“You work awfully hard, Darry, you gotta eat,” Pony said mindlessly. It was something his former coach used to tell him all the time, back when his foster parents weren’t giving him much to eat and he was feeling dizzy every practice.

“Guess that’s true. Back when I used to play football, I used to eat like a horse,” Darry reminisced. Pony wondered, not for the first time, what it would’ve been like if he would’ve grown up with the Curtis’. Maybe he and Darry would’ve argued more. Maybe he and Soda would’ve been even closer.

“Do ya miss bein’ on the team n’ stuff?” Pony asked.

Darry looked down at his plate. “I do. Yeah, I do. But it caused some issues in the gang. They all thought I was turnin’ into a Soc,” Darry said. Johnny had told Pony all about that – about the argument that Darry and Soda had had that almost tore the two apart. Apparently that was why Darry was trying to be a lot calmer now, trying to act more his age. It had been a whole ordeal, but now the brothers seemed thick as thieves. Pony just hummed in response.

“So, what about you? You said ya liked runnin’, right?”

“I like it okay. At one of my old schools I was on the track team. I did pretty alright,” Pony shrugged. He had been one of the better ones on the team, but that was back when he was still in Junior high, so his competition really wasn’t much. Pony was pretty used to running, anyways; he had been forced to do it often in his old homes.

“You should join the team here too,” Darry said,

“Playin’ sports is about the only time a Greaser can be near a Soc without a fight breakin’ out.” Pony hummed.

“Yeah, I guess I might.”

Darry smiled. “C’mon, let's go for a run. Let’s see if you still got those legs.” 

They mostly ran in silence. Darry was pretty fast, but Pony still had to adjust his pace so that Darry could keep up with him. After a few miles of running, Darry slowed down, and Pony followed. They came to a stop in front of the Dingo – Pony hadn’t realized how far they had run until he saw the building in front of them.

“You want a milkshake?” Darry offered. Pony stared at him like he had three heads. Hadn’t he just been stressing out over the bills? “My treat. Two-Bit left three bucks at our house the other day,” he shook his head before a rare smile crossed his face.

“Well if Two-Bit’s payin’, a milkshake sounds awfully nice,” Pony laughed.

The two walked in together and sat down in a booth near the back. When the waitress came over to take their orders, Pony ordered cookies n’ cream while Darry asked for chocolate. Their conversation was light, and it flowed easily. Darry actually laughed once, and it was real—deep and scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in a while. For the first time since he’d arrived in Tulsa, Pony let his guard down around Darry.

“Ready to start walkin’ back?” Darry asked, after their milkshakes were both long gone. Pony nodded and stood up. Darry dropped a dollar on the table and led Pony out.

The walk back was pretty quiet, although sometimes Darry would point out certain spots around the town and tell Pony funny stories from their childhoods. The sentiment was nice, but Pony hated it. It just made him think about how shitty his own childhood was. He would never get those days back. Once they made it back to the house, Pony was surprised to see the door open, signalling that Soda was already home – he hadn’t realized they’d been gone for so long. When they walked inside, they were greeted with Soda’s familiar grin.

“And what have you two knuckleheads been up to?” Soda asked playfully. Pony grinned – Soda’s smile was infectious.

“Milkshakes,” Pony said, a smile lingering softly on his lips. Soda ruffled his hair, giving a look to Darry, before pulling back quickly.

“Glory Pone, you’re sweaty!” Soda exclaimed, “Go run and get changed, c’mon.” Soda pushed him towards their bedroom. Pony listened, going and reaching into the cabinet before pulling out a pair of Soda’s jeans and an old shirt Darry had brought him from his work. He heard voices from downstairs, and decided to listen in before going back to the living room.

“Admit it Dar, you like the kid!” He heard Soda's voice ring out.

“I ain’t never said I didn’t,” Darry said. Pony could practically hear Soda’s smug smile in his voice.

“So we can keep him?” Soda asked. Pony’s eyes widened. He had thought Darry was exaggerating when he said Soda was already asking for adoption papers. He supposed it made sense though – him and Soda spent a lot of time talking at night, and it felt like they’d known each other for a long time already.

“He’s not a pet, Soda. I gotta really look into it. No promises, alright?” Darry said.

“But it ain’t a no?”

“It ain’t a no,” Darry said carefully, “But it ain’t a yes either. Savvy?”

Darry was right. It wasn’t a yes, Pony kept reminding himself. He couldn’t allow himself to get excited. The Curtis’ were nice, sure, but Pony had seen this film a million times. Foster parents would dangle the carrot of adoption so that the kid would behave, and suddenly it would be ripped away, leaving the kid wondering what the hell happened. Well, Pony wouldn’t allow himself to be blindsided.

Pony had a week off from school and pretty much no idea what to do with himself. Johnny’s parents weren’t allowing him to leave the house at all, and Dally was off in Oklahoma City for some huge rodeo. For the past few days Pony had been hanging around the DX with Soda, before he got bored and decided he just wanted to hang around at home for a day. He was reading his favorite part of Great Expectations – the part where Pip comes into his fortune – when he heard Darry answering a call in the kitchen. Darry had taken a half-day at work to prepare for the call, so Pony figured it was pretty important. He made the unconscious decision to eavesdrop.

“Good morning Ms. Abbott, thank you so much for your call,” Darry started. Pony’s heart sank. Darry wouldn’t be calling his social worker if he wasn’t trying to get rid of him.

“Yes, I saw the letter you sent. It was very clear, yes,” Darry said, in a phony soc-like voice Pony only heard him use when he was nervous. Pony moved into the bathroom so that he could hear what the voice on the other side was saying.

“Well, I was glad to hear you ask for information about adoption. Lord knows Ponyboy’s had a rough time of it,” Pony heard Ms. Abbott say, “But as you read in the letter I sent you, it won’t be easy for you to get the court to approve, since you need to prove that you can make enough money to support both Sodapop and Ponyboy. Of course, you can’t show that you’re getting some extra help from Sodapop’s income,”

“Yes, I understand. I’ve been looking into a second job, with a little more pay,” Darry explained to the woman.

“That’s great, that’s great. And then there’s the issue – well, not issue per se – of Sodapop. Now, if Ponyboy gets into any sort of trouble under your watch that alerts the court, Sodapop will also likely be taken into a boy’s home, along with Ponyboy, even if he wasn’t involved,” She said. Ponyboy peeked out the door to see Darry’s reaction; his entire body was frozen, eyes wide. Pony closed his eyes tight, guilt seeping down his body like an allergic reaction.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be the reason Darry and Soda got split apart. Even the thought of it made him feel sick. He couldn’t imagine the two brothers apart from each other. Couldn’t the court tell they needed each other? Wasn’t it clear that Soda kept Darry feeling young, while Darry kept Soda grounded? Darry would be an idiot to still want to adopt Pony after hearing that. And maybe Darry didn’t know it yet, but Pony did. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t stay. Not forever. Not if it meant tearing them apart. Something clicked inside him, clear and sharp and painful. He couldn’t let Darry adopt him.

Not if he really cared about them. 

He decided to give himself a week before putting a stop to his adoption. He let Soda pull his head down to his shoulder when they were sitting next to each other on the couch. He hung out around Darry, talking to him about books they’d both read and asking him for help with homework. He started calling Darry Dar, and let them both call him any nickname under the sun (Soda even became prone to calling him honey, and Darry sometimes called him little buddy, a name that before was reserved only for Soda). Even people who Pony hardly knew started calling him the third Curtis brother – at school, the Socs stayed away from him, for fear of upsetting Darry. Honestly, sometimes Pony forgot about his master plan. It was painful, thinking about the fact that one day he would have to act cold and unfeeling in front of Darry and Soda, but Pony felt like he had too. It was one of the first things an older boy had taught him in his first foster home: hurt others before they can hurt you. Everything was going smoothly until Pony woke up one day with a massive headache. It was fine, he figured. He would just go to school like normal, and if he felt worse, he could probably catch an early ride home from Steve, who was always leaving early to work a shift or to hang with Soda. But of course, halfway through the school day, once Pony decided that he’d had enough and that he wanted to go home and lie down back in bed, Steve told him he couldn’t take him. The asshole had a math test or something, one that would decide whether he had to repeat next year or not. Pony wanted to cry, something he hadn’t done in years.

Honestly, sometimes living with the Curtis’ made Pony feel like he was forgetting how to be tough. He had to remember though. They would leave him eventually, just like everyone else had, and if he didn’t protect his heart then no one would. Pony pushed through the rest of the school day, even though he threw up in the bathroom after having a bite of the sandwich Darry had packed him, and he almost passed out in the middle of gym class halfway through running the mile. Luckily on Thursdays he didn’t have track practice, otherwise he definitely would’ve ended up in the hospital. When the final bell rang, he found his way to Two-Bit’s car, eyes squinting and breath heavy.

“You alright there, Ponykid?” Two-Bit asked, glancing nervously at Pony, who was lying down flat in the back seat.

“Yeah ‘m alright,” Pony mumbled from the back seat.

“You ain’t lookin’ too good, I oughta…” Two-Bit trailed off.

“‘M okay,” Pony pushed out, “Just got a ‘lil headache, thassall.”

“I’ll getcha home real quick then, getcha to yer bed.” Two-Bit said. Pony didn’t really know what happened next. He passed out pretty quickly after that, and only woke back up when he felt a tender hand cradling his head. He figured out without opening his eyes that he was in bed, so he guessed that the hand was Soda. He stirred slowly, still not opening his eyes.

“Easy there Pones, you’re not feelin’ too good,” Soda’s voice said softly. Pony just groaned, shifting around to find a comfortable position. He ended up lying down practically on top of Soda, head resting in the spot where Soda’s neck met his shoulder. He felt a hand in his hair and he leaned into it like a cat. He could distantly hear Soda cooing, but he didn’t fully register it, going in and out of consciousness. He would miss this when he left. He tried to push himself to stay awake so that he could treasure it, but he soon slipped away. When he woke up again, he was still in the same position as before, but Soda was talking to someone quietly from beneath him.

“Poor kid,” he heard. The voice was tired and gruff, which meant it was Darry talking from the door of the bedroom, “I wonder how long he’s been feelin’ lousy.”

“Stevie said he asked him for a ride in the middle of the day, but he couldn’t leave ‘cause he had a test…” Soda trailed off, noticing Pony’s change in demeanor,

“Hey kiddo, you feelin’ a lil’ better?”

“No,” Pony moaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. It was true – his head felt even worse now, and he felt like he was burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. His stomach was killing him, and he was starving, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat anything without throwing up.

“At least now we know he’s as dramatic as you when he’s sick, Pepsi,” Darry teased. Pony moved his arm and opened his eyes slowly. He saw Darry standing there casually, glass of water in hand. He was still in his work clothes. Pony hoped he hadn’t left early just because he was sick.

“Darry?” He breathed out.

“Yeah, I’m here kid. C’mon, ya gotta drink some water,” Darry said, pulling Pony up into a sitting position, the younger boy still leaning on Soda. Darry brought the cup up to Pony’s mouth and helped him drink, then put the glass on the nightstand. He brought the back of his hand up to feel Pony’s forehead, but in his delirious state Pony flinched away, making Darry freeze with his hand still in the air.

“Sorry Pony, I was just gonna feel yer temp,” Darry mumbled, standing there helplessly as Pony burst into tears. Soda pulled him closer, whispering soft reassurances to get him to calm down.

“I dunno why I did that, ‘m sorry Dar,” Pony cried, reaching out towards Darry. The older man moved closer and ran a hand through his hair gently before pulling back.

“’S alright, Ponyboy. You’re just tired. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a little while?” Darry said, signaling to Soda to help ease the boy back down.

Pony drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like hours—maybe even a day. Each time he woke, the faces around him seemed to change. Sometimes it was Soda sitting by his side, other times Darry, and once, even Steve, who muttered something Pony couldn’t quite make sense of. It was like he was drowning, trapped in a fog where breathing and hearing were both struggles.

After what felt like the fifth time waking up, Pony finally felt more clear-headed. This time, he was awake for good. The room was empty, though he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Two-Bit must have been on watch duty. He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The guilt gnawed at him—he had hurt Darry by flinching away from him. He could tell. Hurting Darry didn’t feel good, like his friends told him it felt. Pony just felt like he wanted to throw up. He decided to put his plan into action that very moment – when Darry and Soda came home, he would act cold and push them away. It was for their own good, he told himself. – Pony stayed in bed for a while longer, then finally started wandering around the house. Two-Bit was sitting on the couch, watching some cartoon. His eyes widened when he saw Ponyboy.

“The king hath risen!” Two-Bit exclaimed.

“Heya Two-Bit,” Pony mumbled, moving towards the kitchen to make himself some eggs. He briefly wondered whether he should push Two-Bit and the rest of the gang away as well, before deciding that he didn’t need to. They didn’t decide whether he left or not, anyway.

“You gave us all a real scare, man! Ol’ Darry and Sodapop were worried sick,” Two-Bit said, “You feelin’ better now though?”

“Yeah, I feel better. I dunno what happened, just felt real lousy all’a sudden,” Pony shrugged, putting a piece of chocolate cake on a plate – Soda was probably the one who finished the last of the eggs – and moving over to sit by Two-Bit.

They sat watching the show for a while, even though Pony had no clue what was going on half the time. They stayed quiet for the most part, but every few minutes Two-Bit would make some wise-crack to try and make Pony laugh. It worked most of the time – Pony couldn’t help it. It seemed like Two-Bit always knew what to say to make Pony laugh. Pony would miss him. After a few hours of mindlessly watching cartoons, Two-Bit stood up, saying that he needed to go watch his little sister but that he didn’t want to leave Pony there alone.

“You ain’t gotta babysit me, I’ll be alright,” Pony said, “Soda’ll be back soon.”

“Call me if you get into any trouble, alright kid? Otherwise Darry’ll have my hide,” Two-Bit said. He stared at Pony for an extra beat, then grabbed his jacket and left. Pony shrugged it off and went back to his room to grab a book, bringing it back to the couch so that he could relax. He was actually pretty nervous to face Soda and Darry – nervous that he would crumble after a few sentences and fall right back into their arms. This was for their own good, he reminded himself. All he did was hurt people. He only got through two and a half chapters before he heard the door creak open. He looked up and saw Soda, with his familiar grin, bouncing over to him.

“Pony! You’re up! Glory, you scared us somethin’ awful, we were worried you had the flu!” Soda exclaimed. God, his enthusiasm made Pony want to cry.

“Hey Soda,” Pony muttered, turning back to his book and flipping the page. He hadn’t actually finished the last paragraph, but he figured it was too late to turn the page back now. Soda was so perceptive that he would notice that in a heartbeat anyway.

“You still feelin’ tired? Let me feel yer head,” Soda said, moving over to press the back of his hand to Pony’s forehead. Pony swatted his hand away, pressing his back further into the couch cushions.

“‘M fine,” Pony said. Soda faltered for a second – something Pony had never seen before – before putting a familiar grin back on his face.

“Alrighty then, I’ll start on dinner. It’ll be just us Curtis boys tonight, accordin’ to Stevie. Johnny’s stayin’ with Dal. How does green pasta sound?” Soda asked. Pony just looked at him, shrugging without responding. Soda’s easygoing smile faltered once again. Pony wanted to cry. He never cried before arriving at the Curtis’ house, but now it felt like all he wanted to do everyday. He and Soda stayed quiet for a while, Soda making pasta in the kitchen and Pony still sitting on the couch pretending to read. Sometimes Soda would start humming a tune, or would start saying “Hey Pone–” and then stop. It was the first time Pony had found himself in an awkward silence with Soda. The silence lingered until the pasta finished, then Soda broke the tension.

“The food’s ready, Pone. You wanna eat now or wait for Dar?” Soda asked. Wait for Darry, Pony thought.

“Whichever,” Pony fidgeted with the edge of a page.

“Okay, I guess we’ll wait then…” Soda trailed off, standing at the kitchen entrance, shifting from foot to foot, “So didja hang out with Two-Bit today?”

“Yeah, for a bit,” Pony replied, acting disinterested. Soda seemed to realize that he wouldn’t be getting much out of Pony that night, so he sat down on the couch and filled in the silence himself, talking all about his shift at the DX and the funny things that Steve did all day. Soda really couldn’t stand any type of silence. Pony feigned detachment, but he listened carefully to everything Soda said while he flipped the pages of his book absentmindedly. A few minutes later the door opened softly, revealing a sweaty Darry.

“I’m home,” He said wearily.

“Darry!” Soda exclaimed, excited to have someone to talk to other than the unresponsive version of Ponyboy. Darry smiled his way before turning towards Pony.

“Glad yer feelin’ better Pony, you were out for a while,” Darry said. Pony just nodded.

“He’s hardly talkin’, I bet he’s still got a sore throat or somethin’,” Soda cut in.

“I’ll getcha some aspirin then, hold on,” Darry walked over to the bathroom and quickly came back with the medicine bottle in hand, “Here, take two,” He handed Pony two pills. Pony took them dutifully and threw them back without water – he was a real aspirin fiend, and sometimes on bad days he’d take three or four at a time.

“C’mon, let’s eat, I’m starvin’!” Soda said. The three boys piled over to the table, where Soda had already put out all the bowls and utensils in their respective spots. Pony ate slowly, keeping his eyes on his bowl and listening to the soft conversation floating around him without chiming in like usual. He missed Darry and Soda even though they were right next to him. He kept reminding himself that this was better in the long run; he couldn’t hurt Darry and Soda if he didn’t talk to them.

“Let’s getcha to bed early, Pony, you’ll feel better in the mornin’,” Darry sighed and stood up once they finished eating and talking.

“I feel fine,” Pony said gruffly.

“You hardly said a word at dinner, you obviously ain’t feelin’ too hot,” Darry shook his head, pulling Pony out of his seat and pulling him towards the bedroom. Pony tried shaking him off, but Darry’s grip was firm despite how gently he was holding Pony’s upper arm.

Darry pushed Pony onto the bed and pulled the blankets up against his neck, “‘Night Ponyboy,” He whispered and walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“‘Night Dar,” Pony said quietly once he had left. He drifted to sleep quickly, but at one point he felt the other side of the bed dip and heard a voice softly whisper, “Night Pones.”

Pony hardly spoke a word at home the next three days; he only opened around the rest of the gang when Soda and Darry weren’t around. He was honestly surprised by his self-control. All he wanted was to have another late night conversation with Soda or a chat with Darry over milkshakes. He cursed his brain for thinking so much – if he wouldn’t have realized how much he would hurt Darry and Soda in the long run, he wouldn’t have to ignore them at all. He could’ve lived blissfully in their house while they suffered. There wasn’t much he could do now though, other than stay in his room and wait for the day that Darry finally kicked him out of the house. Soda was trying his best to coax Pony into talking more, but Pony stayed firm. He hung out with Dally and Johnny more whenever he didn’t have school – he didn’t exactly tell them about his plan, but Dally shot him a judging look every time he saw him walk past Soda or Darry.

“What the hell’re you up to, Ponyboy?” Dally snarled one day. It was one of those days where Dally was in a real edgy mood, so Pony had figured something like this would happen. Dallas Winston wasn’t afraid to confront anyone, much less a scrawny 14-year-old kid like Pony,

“Actin’ like a brat to Darry and Sodapop? Are you tryin’ to get yerself kicked out?” Pony stayed quiet. That was exactly what he was trying to do, but not for the reasons Dally assumed. He looked around to see where Johnny had gone, since they’d all been hanging out, but he was nowhere to be found. So this was planned.

“Is that what yer doin’? Fuckin’ self-sabatoging? Don’t be an idiot, Pony. You’re never gonna find a better house than with those two. You got Soda cryin’ everyday, Darry wonderin’ what the hell they did wrong. You gotta wake up Pony. What’s goin’ through your dumb head?” Ponyboy just stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He probably looked like a little five-year-old getting lectured at school.

“I dunno,” Pony shrugged.

Dally laughed humorlessly. “You ain’t stupid, Ponyboy. You know what yer doin’. What’s your big plan?” He asked.

“I ain’t got no big plan,” Pony spat out, “I just… I overheard Darry talkin’ to my social worker over the phone. She said that if I get into any trouble, Soda could get sent to a boys home,”

Dally stared at Pony for one beat, two beats. “Glory, yer an idiot. How the hell did you get moved up in school?” Dally asked incredulously,

“Whatever, I don’t care about what you do anyway. Just don’t come crawlin’ to me when you realize that yer bein’ stupid, ya hear me?” Pony rolled his eyes but kept quiet.

Instead of responding, he turned and started heading back home. It really wasn’t worth getting in a fight with Dally over. Once he reached the other side of the lot, he saw the Curtis house in the distance, a familiar knot of guilt twisting in his stomach. He paused, and with a sigh, changed direction and headed toward town, figuring he could catch a movie before going back.

He made his way to the theater on the East side of town, but when he got there, he realized he’d already seen every movie playing. Shrugging, he turned toward the theater on the West side – he’d overheard two cheerleaders at school gossiping about the new Paul Newman film showing there. Maybe that would be enough to take his mind off things.

He got there and sat down without much trouble. A few Socs looked his way, but that was nothing new, so he didn’t let it bother him. The movie was good, but he spent most of the time thinking about Darry and Soda. Being so attached to people like this made him feel like a real dummy. He left quickly once the movie was over – he might be airheaded sometimes, but he knew it wasn’t smart to linger on the West side for too long. He made it all the way past the East Side movie house before he noticed the red Corvair following him. Panic seized him, and his pace quickened, heart thumping in his chest. He knew what Socs did to greasers in their territory – he could already feel the adrenaline flooding his system.

When the car pulled up beside him – windows rolled down – he saw them: the Socs, staring at him with cold, calculating eyes. They pointed right at him, and he knew it was happening. It was happening to him. His legs moved faster, now almost at a run, but it was too late. One of them yanked him back by the arm, and suddenly, his head met the ground harshly. He hit the pavement with a thud, pain shooting through his head.

The Socs were on him quickly—kicking, punching, laughing. His head was spinning, his body overwhelmed by blows from all sides. He felt the cold, sharp press of a blade against his neck, and he sprang into action. His heart beat fiercely in his chest as he flailed, clawing at the air with everything he had. His fists found nothing but air, and their fists kept finding him – his face, his ribs, his stomach.

He was trapped. His body absorbed every blow. His vision blurred; it felt like they were beating on him for hours, but it was probably more like minutes. Finally, they left him laying there with one last kick to the head. They didn’t even bother to look back as they got back into the car. He lay there, curled like a baby on the cold pavement, gasping for air. His body ached in places he didn’t even know could hurt.

After he noticed that the sky was turning dark, he forced himself to move, his hands scraping against the rough wall as he pushed himself to his feet. His head swam. He blinked, his vision wavering, but he knew he had to keep going. He prayed that he would make it home before he passed out or died in the middle of the street. He probably blacked out at some point on the way home, because he had no clue how he ended up back on the doorstep of his house. He knocked on the door drowsily, legs threatening to give out underneath him. The door creaked open after a long beat, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled forward. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed, his body crumpling into the arms of the person who had opened it.

“Pony? What the hell happened to you – Darry! Come quick, it’s Pony," the person yelled. A gasp escaped Pony’s throat, painful and desperate,

“Hey, stay with me Ponyboy, c’mon,”

“‘Oda?” He croaked, opening his eyes slightly to try and get a good look at the person holding him and bringing him over to the couch.

“Yeah honey, it’s Soda. You got yerself into some trouble, huh? C’mon, lie down now, me n’ Darry’ll fix ya right up,” Soda said, even though his face was pale and his eyes kept darting around, waiting for Superman to save the day.

“What the hell happened?” Darry asked, crashing into the living room, hands full of first aid materials and bandages, “Glory Pony, I thought you were with Dallas.” Pony let out a groan at the mention of Dally. He started tearing up.

“‘M sorry Darry,” Pony blubbered, “I’m so sorry,”

“Gosh Pony, look at that cut on your face,” Pony felt Darry’s hands on his cheeks, moving his head up and toward the light so Darry and Soda could see the cut better, “Pepsi, go and grab Mom’s sewing kit.”

“You don’t think…” Soda trailed off.

“You ain’t gotta watch, Soda, just go get it while I patch the kid up,” Pony heard Soda’s footsteps go towards the bedrooms, while Darry kept snapping his fingers in front of his eyes to keep him awake,

“Stay with me Pony, and hold this ice pack at your ribs. I’m gonna have to stitch up that cut there, savvy?” Pony held the bag of frozen peas at his ribs like Darry said but didn’t make any confirmation that he had heard.

“C’mon Pony, answer me,” Darry said, shaking him slightly.

“Stitches?” Pony replied after a beat.

“Yeah, stitches. I stitched up Johnny’s head last time, you ain’t gotta worry,” Darry touched the area around the cut, stretching it and asking if it hurt when he pressed it. Pony shook his head no. He couldn’t feel much of anything that was happening, really. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw those Socs again, jumping on top of him. Soda finally came back, sewing kit in hand, and gave Darry a black thread and a needle. Pony whimpered a little, but he quickly shut his mouth and looked down.

“You’re okay Pone, I’m here,” Soda sat on the other side of him and grabbed his hand.

The second the needle touched Pony’s skin, he blacked out. Later, he couldn’t recall a single bit of that night; he just knew that he woke up – feeling much better – and found himself sandwiched between Darry and Soda. He freed one of his arms and reached up to feel his head where the cut was and felt that it was all patched up. He could hardly tell that there were stitches there, even though he wouldn’t tell that to Darry. The two boys next to him jolted up when they felt him move.

“Pony! Golly, how’re you feelin’? What happened to you?” Soda exclaimed. Soda always woke up quickly, whereas Darry took forever to register where he was. Pony distantly remembered that he was supposed to be ignoring them.

“Don’t start pulling away from us now, Ponyboy. What on Earth is goin’ on with you?” Darry chimed in.

“I just went to the movie house after hangin’ out with Dally and Johnny. I didn’t do nothin’, I swear, but some Socs saw me and jumped me in the street,” Pony shrugged.

“You went to the movie house or the movie theater?” Darry asked.

“The theater,” Pony looked down at the ground. Darry and Soda both sighed.

“Listen Pony, I know you like the movies on the West side, and I know you like watchin’ movies alone, but next time you gotta have one of us come with you. Any o’ us, okay? Use your head, you know what Socs do to lonely greasers,” Darry shook his head, frustration in his voice evident. Pony nodded slowly and stood up to go back to his room – Soda’s room, he reminded himself, nothing in this house was his – but he felt Soda’s hand grab his wrist.

“Don’t pull away Pony, please,” Soda’s voice cracked, “What did we do wrong?”

Pony’s heart ached, and he wanted to say something, to reach out and do something to get rid of the hurt expression on Soda’s face, but he stayed silent.

“Please Pones, we’ll fix it,” Soda said, almost begging. It was impossible not to give in when he said it like that.

“I just – I don’t want you to get sent to a boy’s home,” Pony whispered. The words bounced off the walls like bullets. Darry stiffened, but Soda just blinked.

“What’re you talkin’ about Pones? I’m stayin’ right here,” Soda said, looking at Darry for help, who was still half-frozen, eyes locked on Pony.

“Pony…” Darry started, but the words were already flooding out of Pony.

“I heard Darry on the phone with my social worker,” Pony explained, the words rushing out of him,

“She said if I get in trouble here, you’ll get sent to a boys home too, ‘n I always get in trouble, so…” Pony finished looking down at his feet. He was still standing in front of Darry and Soda, and he felt like every move he made was being scrutinized.

“I don’t give a hang,” Soda said abruptly, “They ain’t takin’ either of us. You think I’d let them drag me off anywhere without kickin’ and screamin’?”

Pony shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They’d take you even if your hand was glued to the front door. They don’t care,”

“Pony,” Darry said, finally snapping out of his daze, “I didn’t want you hearin’ that call. I thought – I thought you were outta the house,”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Pony looked at the ground shamefully.

“It’s okay, Pones,” Darry said, in the softest voice he had.

“I ain’t mad. I didn’t have anything to hide, anyway.” He reached out for Pony’s hand, his voice firm but calm. “But you gotta let me deal with all this, alright? I’m the adult here. You ain’t gotta carry it like it's yours.”

Pony looked at Darry again, eyes lined with tears, “It is mine though. If I mess up – if I do anything, I’ll lose you guys. And you’ll lose Soda. You can’t lose Soda.”

“No one’s losin’ anything, kid,” Darry said, standing up to get closer to Pony. “You hear me? You could mess up a hundred times and I’d still fight to keep you here. They ain’t takin’ you, and they sure as hell ain’t takin’ Soda.”

Pony didn’t say anything. But he didn’t move away either.

Soda stood up to stand on Darry’s side. “You're not goin’ anywhere, and we ain’t either. So quit tryin’ to carry this on your own, savvy?”

Pony nodded and then moved to hug both Darry and Soda at the same time. He felt Soda laugh and Darry put his face in his hair.

“We missed ya, kid brother,” Soda said. Pony’s heart soared.

“I missed you guys so much,” His voice cracked. No one commented on it. Darry stayed quiet, just holding Pony tighter.

It wasn’t perfect. Pony still felt the ache of his ribs and the bruises forming on his face. Ms. Abbott would still knock on the door at some point and Pony would need to be on his best behavior. But for now, he could close his eyes and let himself belong.