Disclaimer: Outsiders? Still not mine.

A/N: Well, it's about time for something to happen in this story already, I think.

It wasn't an easy week. Pony knew better than to think that one meeting would be like a magical pill, but he'd hoped irrationally that it would. But he still couldn't concentrate in most of his classes, and now – now, of all times – Mr. Syme decided to give them this book to read. Catcher in the Rye, it was called. And he'd actually decided to give it a try. After all, if Mr. Syme cared about him like he seemed to, then he might as well at least try to concentrate in his class.

But this book … no one warned him about this book. This character, this Holden Caulfield, reminded him too much of himself. He reminded him of other people too, people he didn't necessarily want to think about right now. Holden – Holden was struggling with losing someone, someone who reminded him way too much of Johnny. Whenever he thought of the description of Allie, his eyes would start stinging. And then it happened at the worst time.

It was Tuesday morning, and he was sitting in English when Mr. Syme brought up that essay that Holden had written about Allie's baseball mitt.

"What is it about Allie that makes him different from everyone else in Holden's life?"

"He's younger than Holden," someone called out.

Mr. Syme grimaced. "Ok," he conceded grudgingly. "Now let's try to go a little deeper. How does Holden feel about Allie?"

No one answered. Pony sighed and shifted in his seat. Wasn't it obvious? Why wasn't anyone saying it?

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Pony finally burst out, "He loves him. He's the only one Dal – Holden actually loves."

The silence crackled. Pony felt as if he were frozen to his seat. Everyone had heard him. He just knew that everyone had heard him start to say Dally instead of Holden. His throat was dry, and his ears were hot, and he knew he couldn't stay there a moment longer.

He bolted from his seat, hoping that Mr. Syme wouldn't try to stop him. Mercifully, he let him go. But once he got out the door, he wasn't sure where to go. Sure, he could go to the schoolyard, smoke a cigarette, calm his nerves. It would probably work, too, but his eyes were burning now, and he couldn't handle the thought of facing anyone else.

Without even realizing where his feet were leading him, he found himself facing Ms. Simmons, who looked completely unsurprised to see him.

"Ponyboy," she said, smiling. "You're 20 minutes early, but Ms. Boyd didn't have an appointment this period. Just give me a minute to let her know you're here, and then I'm sure you can go on in."

Pony nodded, standing stiffly in place, eyes down. He didn't trust himself to speak or to look at this woman. She was too motherly. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Luckily, it took less than five minutes for Ms. Boyd to come to her door and usher him into her office. If she were surprised to see him earlier than she'd expected, she didn't let on.

"Come on in, Pony," she said calmly. "Take a seat."

He sat in the same seat as last time and felt his brothers' absence keenly. His hands were clenched in his lap, but now that he was here, he was able to breathe again.

Ms. Boyd studied him for a moment. "Something happened," she said thoughtfully. Pony looked up in surprise, and as soon as she saw his eyes, she knew she was right. Her voice slightly more gentle, she repeated, "Something happened. Right?"

After a brief pause, he nodded. But now that she forced him to remember, he found it difficult to swallow. He hoped she wouldn't ask him to explain, but he knew there wasn't much hope of that. He was right.

"Why don't you tell me what happened, Pony?"

He wanted to, but he just couldn't think of a way to say it so that it wouldn't sound stupid. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. If he could be in a rumble and win, he could do this.

"I was – I was in English," he said haltingly. He shook his head. He had to tell her, but he didn't want to. He wished it would all just go away. "We were talking about Catcher in the Rye. Did you ever read it?"

Ms. Boyd nodded and smiled. "I did. I had the biggest crush on Holden."

Pony tried to smile and not roll his eyes. It was hard.

"So we were talking about Holden's relationship with his younger brother Allie, and Mr. Syme asked how it was different from Holden's relationship with everyone else. Anyone with a brain knows that it's because Holden loved Allie, but no one in my class seemed to have caught onto that idea. So I said it, but…"

He trailed off. Ms. Boyd knew there was more, but she was equally sure that the last thing Pony wanted to do was tell her what it was. She gave him two minutes, but when he still said nothing, she asked, "What did you say?"

Pony stared at the edge of the desk. He couldn't look at her. If he looked at her, she'd see his eyes, and that was the last thing he was going to let her see right now.

"I gave him the answer, but – but I called Holden Dally."

He whispered the last part, but she heard it anyway, and she felt a pang. As much as she had to distance herself from the students, she couldn't stop herself from caring about them. Pony's pain was so palpable right now that she didn't understand how he didn't break into pieces. As it was, she did know why he was refusing to look up at her.

She gave him a moment before she asked quietly, "Why do you think you did that, Pony?"

He shrugged. He was still keeping his face down, though, so she knew that he did know the reason. He was just afraid to talk any more.

"Pony," she said more firmly, "tell me why Holden reminds you of Dally."

He stiffened. He never liked direct orders, but he didn't see how he could refuse this one even though he wished he could.

"Holden – he loved Allie. He loved him more than anybody," he faltered. "With Dally – we never thought he loved anybody. But then Johnny…" Pony swallowed painfully. He still couldn't say it. He couldn't imagine ever being able to say it. He shook his head. "Johnny was the only person Dally loved," he managed to whisper before ducking his head again.

For the first time since she could remember, Ms. Boyd was at a loss for words. She looked at the top of Pony's head, and her eyes were pained. She gave him a moment before she said quietly, "There will be other days like this, Pony."

It wasn't what he expected to hear, and he looked up if only out of surprise. When he saw her eyes widen, he looked back down quickly. He hadn't meant to let her see.

Recovering quickly, she continued. "You will read things and see things that remind you of your friends. It's going to be very hard in the beginning, Pony, but I'm sure you already know that. Logically, I'm sure, you also know that it gets easier. But each time is different. You just … you never know when it's going to hit you."

She made sense. And her words helped him calm down, slow his breathing, and surreptitiously dry his eyes. After a few more minutes, he finally looked up.

"I know," he said quietly, relieved that his voice was back to normal. "It's just – what do I do when it happens next time?"

Now she smiled. "Same thing you did this time. You come here. I'm proud that you knew you should, by the way. You've made the real first step now."

He nodded. He knew. He just hoped the next time would be easier – and that it wouldn't be for a while. He knew this was wishful thinking.