I didn't spend Tim's money in the end. Instead I went and sat in the lot, angrily skipping stones across the frozen ground until my arm ached. A small part of me was hoping Darry would come looking for me, that he'd be the one to make the first move and make things right for once. The rest of me was stubbornly sulking, hating Darry, hating Tim, hating Buck, hating Tulsa, hating Vietnam, hating the world. I was sick of being the adult and having to do the right thing all the time, so I was gonna sit there and sulk like the thirteen year old I wasn't allowed to be.

By the time it started to get dark I'd pretty much tired of pouting. For a while I considered crying, but that wasn't going to get me anywhere either so I got shakily to my feet. It was pretty obvious Darry wasn't coming to get me so I started to walk home, preparing to eat humble pie and apologise. It was stupid to run out like that anyway, especially when I had nowhere to run to.

The hard ground was slippy under my feet and I was suddenly aware of how cold it was, how cold I was. The denim of my jeans was frozen stiff and the tips of my fingers had turned a dull blue colour. As I slid and skittered over the ice my head swam and lurched sickeningly, like the world was tilting around me. I tried to remember when I last ate, but it had been so long I couldn't remember. Eventually I gave up and focused instead on trying to make it home without falling over, because I somehow knew that once I hit the floor I wouldn't be able to get up again.

It reminded me of a story my mom had read to me when I was younger, The Little Matchstick Girl I think it was called. I couldn't remember exactly what happened, except the girl died at the end, on the street in the cold and she went to Heaven and felt warm for the first time in her life. It had made me sad because she was such a sweet, happy girl and she'd tried so hard, but in the end real life just beat her down. Struggling along that cold, dark, deserted street, I was starting to think me and her had a lot of things in common. At least she had her matches though, which she could sell for a little bit of money and light to keep her warm. I didn't even have that. All I had was Darry, who was sinking faster than I was, and Soda, who I couldn't even think about without my heart aching. I bit down hard on my lip to distract myself and tried to focus on the hunger, because at least that was easy to understand.

I'd read in a book once that the body can last up to sixty days without food, providing it doesn't catch any infections and is reasonably healthy to begin with. For the first three days it lives off stores of glucose, after that's all gone it uses up body fat and when there's none of that left, the body starts to eat it's internal organs, literally eating itself alive. Once I'd remember that chunk of text and the gruesome picture that accompanied it, I couldn't get it out of my head. I wondered if the pain in my stomach was my body already starting to eat itself. The thought made me feel sick with panic and I quickly veered off towards town, desperate to get some food. I made it halfway to the store before my legs gave out from under me and I sank down in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to try anymore. I don't know how long I sat there with my head down, but when I finally got the strength to look back up, there was a small heap of coins piled in front of me.

For a minute I was too shocked to move (people think I'm begging! Do I really look that bad…that desperate…that pathetic?) but then I quickly scooped up the money and bolted before anyone could recognise me. The pieces of small change only added up to a few dollars, but it was enough to buy a loaf of bread and a small jar of peanut butter. I felt numb as I handed over the money at the counter and I couldn't bring myself meet the shopkeeper's eye, as if he'd figure out where the money came from just by looking at me. I left the store clutching my prize tightly to my chest, it's presence offering more comfort and happiness than the cutest, cuddliest teddy bear ever could.

The house was cold, dark and silent when I finally made it back, and Darry was nowhere in sight. I checked the kitchen clock and realised he must've already left for work. As much as it would've been nice to know he'd been sitting at home waiting for me, wringing his hands and planning his apology, I was actually pretty glad he wasn't there. I wasn't sure I could've look him in the eye, knowing what I'd just done. We'd always been taught, first by my father then by Darry after dad had died, to never except charity, especially when it came from strangers who knew nothing about us except we didn't have as much as they did. We were always told we were better than that. Well I wasn't; not anymore.

Tim's money was still making a bulge in my pocket, reminding me of my earlier shame and making everything worse. I yanked it out and hurled it across the kitchen, watching as it bounced off the wall and skidded to a stop in the corner. I left it there and turned away, shifting my attention to the loaf of bread. I ripped it open and folded a slice into my mouth, chewing manically so I could swallow as quickly as possible and feel something solid in my stomach. That was all I really wanted, to feel full. I got through three more slices before I remembered the peanut butter. I spooned some into my mouth before starting on the fourth slice of bread. I made myself stop once I'd eaten half the loaf, not wanting to make myself sick. After that, there was nothing else to do except crawl into bed.

I woke up the next morning to find they'd shut off our electricity. Although it was a shock when I went to turn on the television and nothing happened, I couldn't say I hadn't been expecting it. It seemed like everyday a new, threatening letter thudded onto our doormat and, as they'd cut off the telephone a couple of weeks before, I'd realised it would only be a matter of time. I ate the rest of the bread and peanut butter, hoping to full the gulf of panic that had gradually appeared as I'd run around the house, desperately flicking switches. But no matter how much I ate, I still felt empty. In the end I went back to bed and hid under the blankets, making a safe, warm haven for myself until I was ready to deal with reality again.

It was late afternoon when I remembered about Tim's money. Maybe if I sent it to the electricity company they'd switch the power back on for a little while, which would give me a little more time to figure out some way to pay our bills. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen, but the moneywasn't where I left it last night. I didn't even bother searching for it, I knew Darry'd found it, which meant it would already have paid for a bottle of whisky and a six pack of Budweiser. I cursed myself for being so stupid and immediately set out to try and get a job, hoping I could make up the money I'd just lost. I walked the streets of Tulsa until I felt like my feet were gonna drop off. People either laughed in my face or told me to come back when I was older. No one wanted to hire a thirteen year old kid, let alone a thirteen year old greaser kid with holes in his jeans and desperation in his eyes. I went home cold, angry and desperate.

The next day I started stealing. I'd grown up watching Two-Bit, Dally, Steve and sometimes even Soda help themselves to candy bars and packs of cigarettes while the shopkeeper's back was turned so I knew exactly what to do. I was good at it too, making sure I never took more than a couple of items at a time and never hit the same shop twice. I'd spend the rest of the day scouting the streets for empty bottles that I could exchange for a penny at Mrs. Briggs' shop. I took Darry's empty bottles there too, pretending I'd found them in a dumpster or under the bridge where the homeless people lived. Mrs. Briggs thought I was collecting money to feed the orphan babies in Africa and sometimes gave me a nickel instead of a penny, just to "do her bit for the cause". Her kindness would made my face burn with shame because often as not I'd have a pack of bread rolls stuffed under my jumper or a can of tuna hidden in my coat pocket.

Lugging the bottles from our house to the shop was a long and tedious process as I could only carry four at a time. The cold weather made it all the more difficult as my fingers stung and ice made the pavement slippery. The pennies and nickels I got in exchange only added up to a few dollars a week, but it was enough to buy small amounts of food so I kept on with it. If Darry noticed the food that suddenly appeared in our empty cupboards he didn't question where it came from and I didn't tell him. We didn't really talk much anymore…I think we were both scared to open our mouths in case everything we couldn't say came rushing out before we could stop it. My brain buzzed with pent up emotion, but more than anything I longed for a normal "Hey kiddo, how was your day" conversation.

A week later I wake up and find they've shut off the heat. There's nothing I can do about it, no matter how hard I kick the boiler or rattle the pipes. I go to school that day, just to avoid facing the reality of living in a house without electricity or heat. I sit through my lessons, letting the teachers' monotone voices comfort me and the heat blaring from the radiators warm me up. I still feel cold inside though, like a chill has seeped through my body and settled deep in my soul. I catch sight of Two-Bit at lunch. He's sitting in a classroom, probably serving detention, and his eyes go wide when he sees me. He raises his hand to the window and presses it flat against the glass, like he's reaching for me but there's an invisible barrier holding him back.

The irony of it all jabs cruelly at my heart as I make my way to the grocery store to steal some lunch for myself and by the time I get there I can feel hot tears running down my chilled cheeks. I miss Two-Bit almost as bad as I miss Soda, but I'm a liar and a cheat and a thief now and I can't drag Two-Bit down with me. He's the only one of us left.

I try to quit crying once I'm in the store, but the sobs are coming from deep down inside me and they won't stop. I clamp my sleeve over my mouth to try and stifle the noise, but it's too late. The Shopkeeper's voice booms across the store just as I'm slipping a Hershey bar into my coat pocket.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?!" He yells, taking a menacing step out from behind the counter. I jump and throw down the candy bar like it burnt me. I stare back at him like a rabbit caught in headlights, my thieving intensions obvious from the guilt on my face. The guy's face darkens and I see him reach for something under the counter. "You were gonna steal that weren't you, you little thief!"

"No…no I wasn't…" I stammer, taking a shaky step backwards. I don't know what he's got hidden under that counter but I'm not eager to stick around and find out. "I was just…looking! I swear… I was just looking at it." It's a lame excuse and the shopkeeper doesn't buy it for a second.

"Like hell ya were! Get the hell outta my store you little thug, before I shoot ya with my gun. I'll do it…don't think I won't! I'm sick of you kids running around like hooligans, stealing my business and scaring off my customers! Get the hell out before I shoot you! Go on, una mierda!" I don't need to be told again and bolt from the shop. I mean to get as far away from the place as possible, but I'm so shocked and upset I don't watch where I'm going end up tripping over a paving stone right outside the store.

It's when I'm lying sprawled out on the sidewalk that I catch side of the dumpsters. There's three of them, all lined up neatly down the alleyway that runs along side the store. I pick myself up and dart into the alley, jerking the lid back from the first dumpster and plunging my hand in before I can change my mind. The garbage feels moist and slippery beneath my fingers and I have to hold my breath against the stink but I don't care. I'm so focused on my task that I don't notice the side door opening until it's too late.

"Jesus kid…what are you doing now?" The voice is old, raspy and accented, and I immediately recognise it as the shopkeepers. I freeze, one hand still in the dumpster, and slowly turn my head towards him. He doesn't look angry anymore, but I still don't trust him.

"Please Mister," I whisper, carefully removing my arm and backing up a few steps. I raise my hands up in surrender, like the bad guys do in cop movies and turn to face him. "Please don't shoot me. I'm just hungry. I'm so so hungry!"

Then to my absolute horror, I start to cry.

"Oh no, kid…come on don't get all upset. Of course I'm not gonna shoot ya. I was only pulling your leg. Hell, if I shot every kid that pinched from me I'd been locked up years ago. Is that why you were stealing? 'Coz you're hungry? Huh? Tiene hambre?"

I nod miserably, still keeping my arms raised just in case. The guy shakes his head and runs his hand over his stubbly chin, like he's trying to decide what to do with me. "Ok, I tell ya what, I'll make you a deal. I'll let you come inside for a bit and we'll get you fed and cleaned up, then you promise never to steal from my store ever again ok? How's that sound? Have we got a deal?"

"Ok." I agree shakily, cautiously lowering my arms to shake the guy's outstretched hand. To be honest I probably would've agreed to anything just to keep this guy on my side. The man shakes my hand firmly then motions for me to follow him inside. I only hesitate for a moment before trailing after him, because there's nothing else I can do.

I step through the backdoor and find myself in a small back room with a stove, a rickety old table and an electric heater. I head straight for the heater and immediately kneel down in front of it, holding my freezing hands up to the glowing bars.

"Cuidadoso chico!" The man says urgently, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me away from the heater. I stagger awkwardly to my feet, looking up at him in confusion. I have absolutely no idea what he's just said, but I hope I haven't made him mad again… "Don't get so close to the heater, you'll burn yourself! Come and sit over here."

He leads me over to a kitchen chair I hadn't even noticed before and sits me down. "Thank you," I manage to stammer, still feeling confused and disorientated. I realise my knees are stinging and reach down absentmindedly to rub them. When I pull my hand away it's sticky with blood.

"De nada." The man says under his breath, bending down to look at me knees himself. He shakes his head before straightening up. "Stay here chico, I'll be back in a minute. Don't touch anything, bueno?"

I nod, watching him apprehensively as he leaves. I hope he hasn't gone to call the fuzz. For a minute I consider running away, but the room is so warm and comforting I can't make my legs move. After a minute I lean my hand down on the table and let my eyes slide shut, just to rest them for a minute. Just for a minute…

Wow, it's been a while hasn't it? Sorry about the wait, it's been a hectic couple of months for me what with exams, exam results, turning eighteen and starting a new job. All my writing just took a back seat for a while I'm afraid, but I'm back on track now! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know it's depressing what Pony's going through but he's pretty much hit rock bottom now so things are going to improve for him soon - I promise! Let me know your thoughts, ideas and opinions in a review!

Translations:

Una mierda - Piss off

Tiene hambre? - Are you hungry?

Cuidadoso chico! - Careful boy!

De Nada - It's nothing