Disclaimer: Own nothing but the plot

Author: Jollification

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Quietus

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I kick at the pebbles on the street, my mind preoccupied with things far more important.

Darry is going to be mad.

My pace slows at the thought of my angry older brother. I shove my fists deeper into my pockets. I can hear him now:

"Pony, use your head! You didn't even walk with anybody! You coulda been jumped!"

I let out a sigh. Who was I supposed to take to the movies with me? The only remnants of the gang were Darry and Two-bit. Neither of them could sit still through a movie. Darry was always working and Two-Bit was drunk out of his mind half of the time. I had no choice but to go by myself. I winced at the though of my middle brother and his irritating buddy. Soda and Steve were both in Nam.

I feel a familiar pressure build up behind my eyes at the thought of my brother.

He was fighting in a war that didn't even concern him, it wouldn't matter if Soda wasn't there, they could get along fine without him. I just want my brother back.

My nightmares are an every night occurrence now. I wake in a sweat, not remembering a thing, and almost call for Soda. But then the realization that Soda is practically on the other side of the world dawns on me, and I curl back up and try to fight the fear that remains off by myself. I would never think about waking Darry up, he has enough troubles as it is. Darry never smiles anymore, not even when I bring A's home from school. He's always working hard and late almost everyday to try and make ends meet now. Plus, the added stress of knowing that Soda's getting shot at really has worn him down. He looks like a walking ghost most of the time, just floating on by, not saying a word.

I mentally cringe at my use of words. Soda's getting shot at.

My vision blurs and I feel heavy teardrops roll down my cheeks, leaving behind trails of salt water. I rub at my eyes with the back of my hands, willing the tears away. It wouldn't look good if someone I know caught me crying in the middle of the street like a big baby. I try to shake the thoughts of Soda out of my head and try to replace them with thoughts of the movie I just saw.

Bonnie and Clyde was a swell movie. There was tons of action: car chases, bank robberies, and shoot-outs. Good thing I didn't take Two-bit, he probably woulda gone out and had a high-speed car chase with someone. Not to mention that the lady who played Bonnie, Faye Dunaway I think her name was, was a real looker. She was almost as pretty as that Girl in the Yellow Dress I had seen at school a while back.

'Bonnie would have been alright with me whipping out a blade in the middle of class,' I thought to myself.

Clyde was real tuff looking. His hair was perfect and he always had a cigar in his mouth; I'm sure he got all the ladies. In a lot of ways he reminded me of Soda; always getting into fights because he said something smart, but always calm and collected when it came time to take care of business. That was my brother, alright. Except Soda is goofy and hyper all the time. He probably couldn't sit still long enough to drive a get-away car, let alone rob a bank.

I tear myself from my musings and pick my pace back up; I really want to get home before Darry starts looking for me.

The only sound I hear on the vacant street is the slight slapping of my worn shoes against the pavement. I let out a breath, watching as it hangs in the chilly air in front of me. I shiver. I had forgotten how cold it was.

'At least he won't yell at me for not wearing a jacket,' I think a bit proudly. One of my biggest vices is forgetting my jacket on cold days…that and smoking cigs. Darry always lectures me about getting sick and how we can't afford medical bills, to lay off the smokes and remember my jacket. I really don't mean to forget stuff, just sometimes I don't think. The smokes I could never give up, they soothed my nerves about Soda. As long as Soda was in Nam, I would smoke like a chimney.

Rounding the corner, I walk briskly up onto the sidewalk, the chain fence surrounding my front yard coming into view. Darry's truck is parked in the street. My feet find their way up the walkway and onto the porch, the lights are a dim yellow, and I can see Darry reading the paper in his favorite armchair. I sigh. Here it comes.

I swing open the screen door and before I step into the house completely Darry is up from the chair.

"Pony, where were you? It's almost 12 o'clock!"

I look down at my feet, trying to think of what to say. "I went to go see a movie Dar," I explain. I wait for the yelling, the grounding, but nothing comes. I look up, surprised.

Darry stares at me and than quietly asks "What movie?"

I momentarily reel from shock. I was definitely not expecting that. I stutter out "Bonnie and Clyde" and I feel his blue eyes on me. A weary sigh escapes his lips. A tired sigh, like he is carrying a heavy load.

"Just make sure to get home earlier next time, I was outta my mind with worry. Now go to bed." He commands strictly. He doesn't look very happy that I'm late, but that's alright with me as long as I don't get grounded.

Still shocked from the lack of anger from my brother, I walk straight to my room without giving a second glance to my brother. Throwing my jacket on the bedroom floor I quickly make my way over to the beat up dresser in my room. I put all my weight into pulling the drawer that contains my pajamas open. At one point or another Soda had stuffed the drawer full of clothes, not bothering to fold them, and it busted from too much weight. With one last tug it flies open, sending me tripping backwards onto the bed. The dresser drawer falls to the floor with a loud bang and my pajamas spew everywhere. Soda would have fell over with laughter.

I let out a sigh and picked the drawer up. Finally after I get all my clothes folded and put back in the dresser I stare at the contents of the broken drawer.

My clothes lay neatly on one side; the other side is empty. That's where Sodapop's clothes would have gone. I can almost see his balled up DX shirts.

I shut the drawer loudly and toss on my pajamas quickly, making my way to the bed. I can almost imagine Soda sprawled on the bed, exhausted and fully clad in work attire. I smile to myself at the thought of my goofy brother. As I pull up the sheets I reach onto my nightstand and grab one of the only things that keeps me sane.

Soda's monthly letter.

I reread each one every night, until a new one arrives in the mail. It's like the only thing I have left of him; the only thing that assures me he's still fighting and will come back safe. Getting comfortable, my eyes scan the letter, taking in every minute detail of his chicken-scratch handwriting. The ways he loops his o's and the way he crosses his t's. It all reminds me of Sodapop. I touch the letter with the tips of my fingers, slowly grazing them over the words. I read the letter to myself, imagining Soda's voice in my head:

Dear Ponyboy,

How ya doin' kid? Hope you're not giving Darry too much of a hard time! How's Two-bit doin'? Bet he's still eating all our chocolate cake. I can't tell you where I am right now, but it sure is hot! Much hotter than anything we had back home, I can tell you that much! Nothing is really going on with me, I haven't really seen any fighting in a couple of days, and it's starting to get a little boring without anything to do. I keep on winning cigarettes in card games, you would be in Heaven with how many Cancer Sticks I have now. But mostly I give em away, cause you know I don't really like to smoke that much. You should really see the sunsets over here; they're beautiful. They're all pink and red, with blotches of yellow and orange. You'd love 'em. I hope you're doin' alright and getting' good grades. Darry will probably send me your report card! Uh oh, some of the guys are starting to yell at me to go to sleep, that my flashlight is keeping them awake, so I got to go. Be safe and don't try to do anything too dumb.

Love,

Sodapop

I smile at Soda's letter; at least he's still finding ways to have fun.

Placing the letter on my nightstand, I click the light off, bathing the room in darkness. The only sliver of light in the room is coming from the crack under the door. I turn on my side and close my eyes, hoping that perhaps I won't have a nightmare tonight, but deep down, I know I will.

"Night Soda," I say to the darkness hoping that somehow he'll hear me and know I'm thinking about him.

Silence answers me back.

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This chapter was a little short, the next one will be longer. Thanks for reading and feel free to review! I'm always open to constructive criticism!