SE Hinton is the owner of all characters related to The Outsiders. I make no profit from these writings, only satisfaction.

Thanks to Samaryley for her Beta help!

A Case For Concern

Chapter 1

Custody Hearing

Case number 21537, custody hearing for Curtis, Ponyboy Michael, is now in session. The honorable judge Thom Carsee, presiding.

My stomach had been turning and twisting for days worrying what was going to happen today. I wasn't the only one with knots tearing up their insides. Soda was worried too. He had been smoking more all week while trying to hide that fact from Ponyboy. He tried to hide it from me, but gave that rouse up early.

"We gotta find a way to keep him, Darry. Maybe... maybe I can apply for guardianship if the judge takes it from you," he suggested one night while sitting alone on the porch, smoking what had to be his third straight cigarette. Ponyboy was sleeping again, getting some much needed rest. It was all I allowed him do since he woke up a few days ago.

It would have been funny if I didn't know Soda was as serious as a heartbeat about it.

"They won't give you guardianship, Soda." He looked at me with pain all over his eyes, knowing that his dropping out of school weighed heavily on his ever having legal guardianship over anything bigger than a gumball, let alone our youngest brother.

I was also worried about Ponyboy - his physical health was shot to heck. He had been released by the doctor to come to the hearing, but his thoughts were still scrambled. He was doing everything he could to convince himself he was guilty of everything, his coping mechanism... the doctor explained. Didn't make sense to me - Johnny and Dally and that Soc Bob were still dead, whether anyone took the blame for it or not. I just didn't know how to get Ponyboy to understand that. Time, the doc told me. Time. Well, that's all well and good, but for the last week...time was a commodity we were short on.

Sodapop knew it, I knew it... unfortunately Ponyboy knew it, too. That much reality had gotten past his scrambled mindset. He knew we could be split up and it tortured him. It tortured the rest of us too, but he let it affect him physically and emotionally and there was precious little I could do about it. I had seen him earlier in the week going through his dresser, silently pulling out clothes, folding and stacking some of them neatly while leaving other shirts and jeans of his in a jumble. It finally dawned on me, he was picking out what he was gonna take with him when the court severed my guardianship and he would be sent to the county home for boys. I had no words of comfort. He looked so lost, so empty in his eyes.

He also wasn't eating. Since he woke up from his delirium that Tuesday, he had managed very little down his throat. He was losing weight, a little bit more every day since I carried him in the house the night he returned from Windrixville. At first, I thought bologna had something to do with it....he kept saying he didn't like bologna, which is weird since he's never had a problem with it before. But now I think there's more to it. I just don't have enough medical knowledge to understand. My lack of understanding is hurting him, because I simply don't know how to help him. And he certainly isn't dropping hints in my direction. Soda is usually the one who gets him to talk, but even now...Soda ain't getting anything out of him either. Whatever happened that week... in the park, in the church or maybe standing there watching his two best friends die within an hour of each other, has had an impact on him, one even I can't bully away with strong muscles or sharp words.

What really happened is still a mystery to me. He hasn't opened up to anyone, not even Soda. The only other souls who could tell me what happened to my fourteen year old kid brother have died. It hurts to know he won't open up to me. He used to when we were kids...I was always the big brother who protected him from the bullies, walked him to and from school and played ball with him in the yard. Since our parents' death he has distanced himself not only from me emotionally, but also spends more time alone rather than hanging with the gang. It has figuratively driven a wedge between us that I can't remove.

He wants to be a tough greaser like Soda and the other guys. I understand that. We live in a rough section of town, and therefore he needs the gang's protection, whether he accepts it or not. They do their best to protect him, and I think they also realize he ain't cut out to be like them. He has too much potential, obvious to even the most blinded man on the street. Obvious to everyone, that is, except him. I, personally, have no interest in being a gang member, but I hang with the guys, and will back them up no matter what. We're more buddies than gang members anyways, sticking together come hell or high water. Gangs don't behave like that. Friends do.

Anyway, today is the hearing, the one where the judge hears what happened to cause all this mess and tries to figure out what to do about it. It's the day we have all been dreading, knowing it might just be our last day together as a family for a long time. I could see it had been on Pony's mind all week... on all our minds really, but taking its toll on him the worst.

I sat behind him, wanting desperately to sit with him, but that wasn't allowed. They wouldn't let Soda sit with him, either, just the public defender the court provided. Ponyboy was scared, I knew him well enough to see it. When he wasn't wiping sweat from his brow he kept his hands clasped together, or sat on them, or chewed his nails. His body language told me he wanted a cigarette, but even he knew that wasn't gonna happen. I couldn't do anything for him, leaving me feeling as helpless as I did that night I hit him. God, if I could just take that back.... but I can't. I have to live with it, and everything that has happened because of it since. My own personal albatross sent from hell that I can't get rid of. But I deserve it; Ponyboy doesn't.

In the meantime, the doctor had told the judge that he was still recovering and his memory since the attack in the park wasn't very reliable. The judge therefore didn't allow him to say much of anything relevant to the actual events of that night, which was probably wise. He'd have screwed himself over at least a million ways if he had been allowed to do that. Luckily the other witnesses - the Socials who were there that night....bastards to me, every last one of them - decided to tell the truth about what happened.

So, Soda and I finally got to hear first hand as each of these young men, as the judge referred to them, one by one told the world what happened.... how they found Johnny and Pony alone in the park. Two of these "well -off but misguided gentlemen" subdued Johnny with fear and a private beating while the other three first beat my youngest brother, then held him under in the fountain, repeatedly letting him up to gasp for air, then dunking him under the water, again and again, until he eventually stopped fighting.

He stopped fighting. The words from the soc's mouth reverberated in my brain as I sat on the bench in the court. He stopped resisting! They drowned him! My stomach turned into tighter knots that refused to untangle.

"That's when that little dark haired kid came up and stabbed Bob." Every soc ended their testimony with that. Johnny killed Bob. They all agreed on that. Pony remained in the fountain when they took off. Johnny had to have pulled him out, but no one knew for certain. We'd never know. It made me sick. Soda was clenched so tight next to me that I knew he wanted to kill them too.

They admitted what they did so dryly that it sounded as if they were reading it from a script. They didn't even seem repulsed by their actions, just worried what the judge was gonna do to them.

We all had a turn taking the stand, telling the judge whatever he wanted to know, answering his questions as best we could. I was honest - Dally was a friend and a buddy. I'd do anything I could to help him. He did the same for us too many times for me to throw his memory under the bus now. I held it together, not for Dally's sake, but for Ponyboy's. He needed me to show support for the whole gang, Dally too. By supporting Dally, I also supported Pony. I hoped it was an olive branch that he would take, allowing me back in to his world.

Soda did the same. He stuck up for Dally, not glossing him over which was a good thing. Dallas had been in front of too many judges for this one to not know who Dallas Winston was. But Dallas was good to us, and protective of Pony and Johnny, and we valued him for it. We'd miss him, that was certain.

Pony took the stand, but again, wasn't allowed to say anything much except talk about school, being bumped a grade, making the state finals in track, and having good grades. Pony looked like he wanted to say more, but I had told him in no uncertain terms that if he wasn't asked a direct question, to not go off on any tangents. I doubted he would, but I held my breath from the moment he took the stand until he took his lonely seat by the public defender again.

Then the waiting game began.

We were all sweating bullets, my brothers and I out of fear that we would all be separated until Sodapop and Ponyboy each turned eighteen - the other side of the aisle concerned that they would be fined for disturbing the damn peace. Not attempted murder.... no, not those wonderful well- to- do future leaders of America, just for disturbing the peace. That thought was disturbing in and of itself.

Finally the judge had his decision. Acquitted. I retained full custody. I could breathe again. Thank God! The judge hit his gavel on the desk, and everyone got up to go. I stepped over the small barricade separating Pony from me and grabbed him in a bear hug. I could feel his small arms holding me back, and Soda was wrapped in there, too. For one moment, we were together again. The feeling wouldn't last long. Pony let go, just as Soda did, but their expressions were so different. Soda's had jubilation and relief, Pony's had returned to apprehension and doubt. Maybe even fear. Confusion. It was all there, and now it was all mine to deal with again.

"Lets get on home, guys."

I shook the juvenile defender's hand and guided Pony outside, where the sun was bright and the future hopeful. I doubt he saw any of that.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose