The cemetery was quiet and our feet crunched on the leaves as we walked across to meet the rest of the very small group that was meeting there. Darry had requested that the burial be private since he knew how hard this would be for Pony and, I was pretty sure, himself. He, of course, would never admit that out loud, and he'd told me, after he'd made the plans, that he'd done the same thing for his parents' funeral because Soda and Pony would need the privacy. I couldn't help but imagine that he wanted this same privacy for himself this time.

The only people there were the soldiers, who I kept trying to ignore, even though I rationally knew this wasn't their fault, Darry, Pony, Steve, Mrs. Mathews, a couple of their friends who looked vaguely familiar to me, and the two of us. Like I said… a very small group. Once we'd all assembled, the priest looked questioningly at Darry, and he gave a brief nod. It was clear to me that it was the last thing he wanted to do, but this had to happen, whether he acknowledged it or not.

I tried to tune out the priest's words once again as I clasped Chris's hand tightly. This time, we were standing next to the boys. Well, I was next to Darry. Pony stood between him and Steve, and Mrs. Mathews was beside Steve. The assorted friends stood in a loose semi-circle on the other side of the grave, but I kept my head down so I wouldn't have to see their faces as they watched their friend being buried. It wasn't their faces, though, that I was trying to avoid, as I had to admit to myself. I was more aware than anything of Darry's stiff silence beside me, and the tension he was emanating was unbearable. Pony, at least, was sniffling, and I knew Steve was doing the same because, out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Mrs. Mathews had put her hand on Steve's shoulder. Darry did have his hand on Pony's back, but it was Darry who was worrying me now. Pony, at least, was letting it out. As much as I dreaded seeing Darry cry… I knew he needed to. Unfortunately, I also knew what might provoke his tears.

That's when I realized that we had reached the part of the service that would undoubtedly bring my own. The shovel hit the mound, and as the dirt thudded onto the coffin, I felt as though someone had doused me with ice water. Chris's grip tightened on my hand, and I stared furiously at the now-blurry ground, trying to wrest these tears under control. If I were right… and I knew, unfortunately, that I was… Darry was going to need my strength more than anything else right about now. And as I slowly turned to look at him, I knew I was right. He was staring at the now-dirt-covered coffin, but when he realized I was looking at him, he turned to me. His eyes showed me all of the pain he was trying to hold back, and I knew that as hard as it would be, I couldn't let him do this any longer. He needed and deserved to grieve just as much as everyone else.

I let go of Chris's hand slowly and turned to face Darry, who was now staring at me in desperation. Neither of us had spoken, but he knew I was ready to hug him, and he was afraid. He still cherished that mask, that imperturbable face he turned to the world, but it was time for it to come down.

I stepped in to him, and his arms opened almost against his will.

I wrapped my arms around his unyielding shoulders, and I whispered, "It's ok, Darry. You're allowed to feel just as bad as everyone else. Doesn't Soda deserve that much?"

It was a terrible thing to say, but his Adam's apple bobbed so jerkily that I couldn't imagine how painful it must be for him to keep swallowing that lump in his throat. "Darry… it's for Soda," I murmured. "It's ok. He would understand."

And with that… his floodgates opened. Because it was true. Soda would understand where no one else would, and I had inadvertently reinforced what the absence of this much-loved brother would be. As Darry's shoulders shook violently, I held on just as I'd held onto Pony outside the church. I wished they would hold onto each other, but I knew that would come later. Sometimes … we can't explain who our comfort is. We just know what we need, and I was just glad I could be there to provide it.