Steve
"How can you be so stupid!?" I glanced at Soda, who visibly flinched. Darry was screaming at Pony bad. This is the first time Pony's messed up in a long, long time. Not since. . . it happened. Since the last rumble. And Darry was screaming at him. And Pony wasn't saying a word, he wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was starring at the ground, stark still.
Soda and I were in the living room. We knew we'd better stay out of this. But it was killing Soda, not coming to Ponyboy's defense. They've always been close, but now they've been inseparable. Pony's stopped talking, and just started thinking way to much. Living in a joint like this, thinking like that can kill you. And it is killing Pony.
"You'd think you would of learned, Ponyboy!" Darry continued. "You can get killed just like that! You gotta use you damned head!" We were sitting where we couldn't see them. And I was glad. "Is that what you want to do? Die!??" There still was no answer. "Answer me!" There still wasn't an answer.
Soda suddenly stood up, walking into the kitchen. I followed him of course.
"Knock it off Darry." He snapped.
"Stay out of this, Soda." Darry said promptly. Gosh, Pony was awful pale. He glanced up momentarily.
"Darry, he's just a kid still!" Soda said loudly. "Ever since it happened you act like he's become and instant adult! He's still just a kid!"
"He's got to learn to use his head." Darry said back. "He's gonna get himself killed! He's my responsibility!"
"He's got to learn! He's gonna make mistakes!" Soda shouted back. Pony walked over to the cupboard, sighing. Darry and Soda continued to fight. I half watched them, and half watched Pony.
He opened the drawer, carefully taking something out and placing it to the counter. He closed the drawer again and I could see his arm was shaking. I was transfixed at his calm but shaky movements. He picked up the object, which I realized was a gun. He raised it to his head. His finger pressed on the trigger. . .
"NO PONY!" I screamed. In what seemed to be slow motion Pony pulled the trigger, but before the bullet entered his skull Soda collided with him. Because of this, the bullet entered the left side of Pony's chest. They fell to the floor with a thud.
"Pony! Pony. . .wake up." Soda immediately began whispering and pleading. "Pony." Darry was standing there, open mouthed, shocked. "Come on Pony! Damn it Ponyboy, wake up!" Crimson blood was soaking into Ponyboy's white t-shirt. He wasn't moving. . . he wasn't breathing. . .
The hospital was cold and sterile. It was creepy. I haven't been in one for a long time, not since Two-Bit broke a few ribs. Soda was sitting beside me, his face blank. Every once in a while he'd rub at his eyes or slick back his hair. Darry was sitting, still and mute, on the other side of the waiting room.
We were waiting word. He went into surgery a while ago. He woke up before he got to the emergency room. He was scared to death. And did not want to be alone. But we couldn't go into surgery with him. Soda was upset, I was upset, Darry was upset. Pony just didn't want to be alone. He asked us to stay with him, and we did till the anesthetic put him to sleep.
"This can't be happening." He finally stated. "Ponyboy . . . he wouldn't try to commit suicide, would he?"
"Apparently so." I said gently.
"I knew he was getting stressed out. I knew he was having a hard time with school and getting back in the norm." He was rambling. I just listened. "I knew he was feeling right about things, but I didn't think he'd. . .he'd. I didn't think." He sniffled. I knew he wanted to cry. I rubbed his shoulders. He wrung his hands together, sniffling.
Hours passed, and still we sat. Darry sat beside us after a while. The fight was totally forgotten. Please pull through Pony. Please. Around three in the morning, a man dressed in white came up to us. Darry stood up, then Soda and I.
"You are the Curtis crew?" He asked.
"Yes sir." Darry said, trying to stay calm. "How is he?"
"He made it through surgery." We all sighed in relief. Early he had said it was unlikely. "He is critical condition. Tonight's outcome could determine if he'll survive or not." Soda inhaled, getting rigid. "He may wake up, and he may sleep through the night. He may sleep all week. He may never wake." He was being very blunt. Both Darry and Soda turned pale.
"Can we see him?" Soda asked after a minute.
"Yes, only close family, though." He said. "And after he wakes up, only brief periods. Don't let him talk or get excited." He looked at Darry. "You are his legal guardian?"
"Yeah."
"I would like to speak to you." He gave me and Soda Pony's room number. We watched them head toward the offices, then we started to the room. It was in the pediatrics wing, a sad reminder of Pony was still just a kid.
I stopped at the door as Soda started in. He stopped and grabbed my shirt, dragging me in.
"You're as much his family as me and Darry." He whispered. He then looked toward the bed.
Gosh, Pony never looked so little. All these tubes and wires were hooked to his wrists and chest. A huge white bandage was covering his entire torso. He was covered to his waist by a green sheet. His eyes were closed and there was a beep from one of the many machines every time he in exhaled. His head was turned to it's side, half sunken into the pillow, his red hair soaked with sweat and slicked back from face. He looked about twelve.
"Pony." Soda said, his voice quavering. We both walked up to the bed, looking at him. He was defenseless. He was so still. I thought me and Soda could take anything. Anything. But. . .I was having trouble taking this.
Soda gently stroked his hair back, sighing. He pulled a chair from the wall and sat in it, looking at his brother. I squatted.
"He's cold." Soda commented, pressing the back of his hand against Pony's face. He gently pulled the sheets up a little farther. Pony made a wheezing noise, fidgeting a little.
I used to watch Pony and Soda sleeping if I got there too early on weekends. Soda would have his arm thrown around Ponyboy's neck and Ponyboy would be pressed tightly to his side. They'd sleep like that. They had gotten so used to each other they could sleep through each others tossing. I knew Ponyboy wasn't sleeping like that. He was sleeping in emptiness.
"Do you think he'll make it?" I asked after a while.
"I don't know. He's never gotten hurt so bad before." He answered, barely above a whisper. "He's gonna try. I know he doesn't wanna die. He's just scared."
"So am I."
"Me too."
We fell silent, watching him breath slowly. After a while Darry walked in. He gulped, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed. He was sweating a little. He gently stroked Pony's hair back
"How can you be so stupid!?" I glanced at Soda, who visibly flinched. Darry was screaming at Pony bad. This is the first time Pony's messed up in a long, long time. Not since. . . it happened. Since the last rumble. And Darry was screaming at him. And Pony wasn't saying a word, he wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was starring at the ground, stark still.
Soda and I were in the living room. We knew we'd better stay out of this. But it was killing Soda, not coming to Ponyboy's defense. They've always been close, but now they've been inseparable. Pony's stopped talking, and just started thinking way to much. Living in a joint like this, thinking like that can kill you. And it is killing Pony.
"You'd think you would of learned, Ponyboy!" Darry continued. "You can get killed just like that! You gotta use you damned head!" We were sitting where we couldn't see them. And I was glad. "Is that what you want to do? Die!??" There still was no answer. "Answer me!" There still wasn't an answer.
Soda suddenly stood up, walking into the kitchen. I followed him of course.
"Knock it off Darry." He snapped.
"Stay out of this, Soda." Darry said promptly. Gosh, Pony was awful pale. He glanced up momentarily.
"Darry, he's just a kid still!" Soda said loudly. "Ever since it happened you act like he's become and instant adult! He's still just a kid!"
"He's got to learn to use his head." Darry said back. "He's gonna get himself killed! He's my responsibility!"
"He's got to learn! He's gonna make mistakes!" Soda shouted back. Pony walked over to the cupboard, sighing. Darry and Soda continued to fight. I half watched them, and half watched Pony.
He opened the drawer, carefully taking something out and placing it to the counter. He closed the drawer again and I could see his arm was shaking. I was transfixed at his calm but shaky movements. He picked up the object, which I realized was a gun. He raised it to his head. His finger pressed on the trigger. . .
"NO PONY!" I screamed. In what seemed to be slow motion Pony pulled the trigger, but before the bullet entered his skull Soda collided with him. Because of this, the bullet entered the left side of Pony's chest. They fell to the floor with a thud.
"Pony! Pony. . .wake up." Soda immediately began whispering and pleading. "Pony." Darry was standing there, open mouthed, shocked. "Come on Pony! Damn it Ponyboy, wake up!" Crimson blood was soaking into Ponyboy's white t-shirt. He wasn't moving. . . he wasn't breathing. . .
The hospital was cold and sterile. It was creepy. I haven't been in one for a long time, not since Two-Bit broke a few ribs. Soda was sitting beside me, his face blank. Every once in a while he'd rub at his eyes or slick back his hair. Darry was sitting, still and mute, on the other side of the waiting room.
We were waiting word. He went into surgery a while ago. He woke up before he got to the emergency room. He was scared to death. And did not want to be alone. But we couldn't go into surgery with him. Soda was upset, I was upset, Darry was upset. Pony just didn't want to be alone. He asked us to stay with him, and we did till the anesthetic put him to sleep.
"This can't be happening." He finally stated. "Ponyboy . . . he wouldn't try to commit suicide, would he?"
"Apparently so." I said gently.
"I knew he was getting stressed out. I knew he was having a hard time with school and getting back in the norm." He was rambling. I just listened. "I knew he was feeling right about things, but I didn't think he'd. . .he'd. I didn't think." He sniffled. I knew he wanted to cry. I rubbed his shoulders. He wrung his hands together, sniffling.
Hours passed, and still we sat. Darry sat beside us after a while. The fight was totally forgotten. Please pull through Pony. Please. Around three in the morning, a man dressed in white came up to us. Darry stood up, then Soda and I.
"You are the Curtis crew?" He asked.
"Yes sir." Darry said, trying to stay calm. "How is he?"
"He made it through surgery." We all sighed in relief. Early he had said it was unlikely. "He is critical condition. Tonight's outcome could determine if he'll survive or not." Soda inhaled, getting rigid. "He may wake up, and he may sleep through the night. He may sleep all week. He may never wake." He was being very blunt. Both Darry and Soda turned pale.
"Can we see him?" Soda asked after a minute.
"Yes, only close family, though." He said. "And after he wakes up, only brief periods. Don't let him talk or get excited." He looked at Darry. "You are his legal guardian?"
"Yeah."
"I would like to speak to you." He gave me and Soda Pony's room number. We watched them head toward the offices, then we started to the room. It was in the pediatrics wing, a sad reminder of Pony was still just a kid.
I stopped at the door as Soda started in. He stopped and grabbed my shirt, dragging me in.
"You're as much his family as me and Darry." He whispered. He then looked toward the bed.
Gosh, Pony never looked so little. All these tubes and wires were hooked to his wrists and chest. A huge white bandage was covering his entire torso. He was covered to his waist by a green sheet. His eyes were closed and there was a beep from one of the many machines every time he in exhaled. His head was turned to it's side, half sunken into the pillow, his red hair soaked with sweat and slicked back from face. He looked about twelve.
"Pony." Soda said, his voice quavering. We both walked up to the bed, looking at him. He was defenseless. He was so still. I thought me and Soda could take anything. Anything. But. . .I was having trouble taking this.
Soda gently stroked his hair back, sighing. He pulled a chair from the wall and sat in it, looking at his brother. I squatted.
"He's cold." Soda commented, pressing the back of his hand against Pony's face. He gently pulled the sheets up a little farther. Pony made a wheezing noise, fidgeting a little.
I used to watch Pony and Soda sleeping if I got there too early on weekends. Soda would have his arm thrown around Ponyboy's neck and Ponyboy would be pressed tightly to his side. They'd sleep like that. They had gotten so used to each other they could sleep through each others tossing. I knew Ponyboy wasn't sleeping like that. He was sleeping in emptiness.
"Do you think he'll make it?" I asked after a while.
"I don't know. He's never gotten hurt so bad before." He answered, barely above a whisper. "He's gonna try. I know he doesn't wanna die. He's just scared."
"So am I."
"Me too."
We fell silent, watching him breath slowly. After a while Darry walked in. He gulped, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed. He was sweating a little. He gently stroked Pony's hair back