Final chapter! Very long, I hope you don't mind...

On a Long Road

30. Emotions

I sneak up from bed early in the morning, pad silently through our hallway and living room and out through the front door. I close it carefully after me, so it won't slam shut and wake up my brothers.

The morning air is chilly against my bare upper body, and I clutch a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other. If someone catches me out here, I will say I went out for a smoke. I know they would believe me.

The sun is not up yet, and the street is still. Everything looks like it used to before I was forced to move. Our neighbors' houses are still the same run-down, one-story buildings with uncut lawns and trash outside the doors. Our fence is still broken in places, the grass a little too high. Darry's truck stands on the driveway as usual, but parked a little awry, revealing it was Soda who drove it the last time.

If I turn around, our house looks the same, too. Soda has still not repaint it, even though I remember he said that he would. Maybe because I wasn't here to help him. Darry has fixed the roof, though. The new pieces are darker than the rest if you look closely.

Inside, there's the same smell of smoke and chocolate. Soda and I still share a bedroom, even the bed. None of us even brought it up, that we might be too old now. Last time it was me who needed it, now I think it's both.

Our furniture is still the same. The kitchen table with all the small gashes. The somewhat rickety chairs. Our couch still has a little hole in the fabric at the arm. Everything is the same.

Except me.

xXx

The door screeches when it opens too fast, and a sleepy Soda sticks out his head, looking around. "Pony?"

"I'm here," I say quietly from my spot on the floor. I turn my head away again, but I hear him walk outside, close the door and feel him sitting down beside me.

"You're up early," he yawns, rubbing his arms. "Mornin's are cold sometimes, huh?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep."

I lie so much. I could sleep. I could have stayed in bed, I just didn't want to. I have been home for five days now, but it seems like I never get the time to be alone to sort my thoughts out. I don't understand them. The first day, everything was just so great. Kicking off my shoes in our hallway, knowing it was not for a visit this time. Sitting on the couch, laughing with Two-Bit while watching a silly cartoon on TV. Soda and Steve in the kitchen, making me a surprise dinner. Darry in the recliner, looking so relieved every time I met his gaze. And I laughed and smiled and everything felt good, and I don't even know when it changed. Or why.

It shouldn't have. I'm home. I really am home. Even if Darry doesn't have the custody back yet, we know he will get it. After the meeting at the hospital, after Mr. Parker, Dr. Clark and Darry finally succeeded in persuading Ms. West that this really was best for me, Mr. Parker took us aside and told us that this counted as a victory. Even if we still have to go to court in September, the state can't claim Darry as bad anymore, since they placed me in his care for now. They would look really bad themselves if they took me away again.

I lean my head back against the wall of our house, closing my eyes.

"You okay, Pony?"

"I'm fine."

If I could get a dollar for every time I hear that question, every time I say those words back, I would be rich. Even more if I got a dollar for every lie I tell.

"I'm just wonderin'... you just don't seem so happy," Soda says carefully, almost painfully.

I open my eyes, but he's not looking at me. He stares out into the distance, his face serious. Too serious.

"I can't go around smilin' all the time," I say. "It doesn't mean anythin'."

Soda shakes his head. "It ain't that." He looks at me now, eyeing the pack next to my feet. "Gimme one of those cigarettes."

I hand him the whole pack, and he takes it, pulling out a stick.

"You know what it was like?" he asks quietly, but it's not really a question. "When you were gone?"

I don't want to know. I want to tell him to shut up. I want to tell him to forget; pretend it never happened. To take us back in time to when I was fourteen and stop me from doing something stupid. Isn't that what brothers are for? He should have told me I shouldn't write that theme.

But I'm unfair now; he didn't know. No one did.

"It was awful," he continues slowly, not waiting for my reply. "I kept wakin' up, wondering where you were all the time. And Darry, he set three plates on the table. Always three." The flame from the lighter lights up his face for a moment. I sit quietly as he sucks on the cigarette. He takes it out, putting his hand down to rest on his knee.

"It's hard to believe you're actually back, ya know? And then I wake up, and you're not there. Again."

He's talking about this morning, I realize. He woke up and I was gone.

"I'm sorry."

He grimaces. "Shit, Pony, I didn't mean it like that. It's me, okay?

"It's just that I can't stop thinkin' about it," he continues. "About every damn thing the state took from us. And I'm just so angry at them."

I pick at the knee of my pyjama pants, suddenly realizing something. Soda has grown up. I remember a time when I thought he would never do that, but he has. It's in his voice, his eyes. He acts differently, not bouncing around like he always did before. And I wasn't even here to notice the changes. He wasn't there when I changed either, and I understand what he's talking about. It's not just days we missed, it's everything, and my stomach hurts when I think about it. Almost two years. It's a long time.

We are both silent as the sun rises, forcing the darkness away. I used to love watching them, the sunrises, but now I don't know anymore. What's in a new day? Just more struggles.

"Will you ever talk to me, Pony?" Soda asks quietly after a while. He has turned his head away again. I study his face, what I can see of it. I remember Tim Shepard, asking me if I was Soda. I didn't think of it so much then, but now it makes me happy. I want to look like him, I want people to know who's my family, just by looking at us. It makes me feel like I really belong here even more.

"Talk about what?" I say, even though I know.

"I know you're keepin' things from us, Pony. I get why you lied, I guess. I just... I just wish you would talk now."

I could continue to persist that there is nothing to say, but I can't do it. I hear the hurt in his voice. He's not hurt by me, though, but by his own thoughts. But I can't talk. Talking is not forgetting, and that is all I want to do.

"Soda, I'm home," I say instead. "Can't we please just leave it?"

A dog starts to bark somewhere down the street, and a car door is slammed shut before the engine starts to roar. Soda's cigarette sits forgotten between his fingers.

xXx

The plate lies shattered at my feet. I'm just about to sink down and start to pick up the pieces, when Darry shows up in the kitchen doorway.

"What happened? You okay, Pony?" he asks, worried, obviously drawn here by the sound of the crash.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I sigh, tired of that question by now. "I just dropped it."

Before I have the time to move, Darry is in front of me, sitting down on his heels.

"Darry, I can do that." He doesn't answer me, just continues to clean up. "Darry!" I sit down too, putting my hand on his arm to stop him. "I can do that."

"It's not a problem, Pony."

Annoyance rises in me. "Yes it is!"

He stares at me, seemingly taken aback by my outburst. I rip the pieces from his hand, then scramble to my feet. I throw the pieces in the sink, wondering why I'm reacting like this. I guess I'm just tired of the way they're looking at me. Like I will break at any moment.

"Pony, what is it?" Darry asks as I grip around the counter. "You've been so tense for some time now."

"It's nothin'."

"I can tell there's something."

"Yeah? Well you're wrong, Darry." I turn around, lean my back against the counter instead and crossing my arms. "I'm fine. I'm fine! Is that what you want to hear? I say it everyday you know, 'cause you ask me all the time! I wish you could just stop it."

Darry stands quietly at first, until he finally talks back.

"We ask you and maybe one day you will tell us the truth." He sounds tired.

"It's the truth. What do you want me to say? You want me to lie?"

"I want you to stop lying."

"I'm goin' out," I mutter to him and start to walk away, but he grips my arm before I get very far.

"Where are you -"

I drag my arm out from his grasp. "I'm sixteen! You never asked Soda where he was goin' when he was my age!" I shout.

"I asked him, too. But this is different, Pony."

I shake my head. Of course. Everything is different with Soda. He was never taken. Not caring what Darry says, I go anyway, brushing past him roughly.

I wait for Darry to call after me when I push the door open and stride down the porch stairs, but he doesn't. I stuff my hands down into my pockets as I walk fast down our street.

I don't know what is wrong with me. Why I can't be just happy. It feels like I'm going to explode or something. I want to explode. I want to scream until my throat is raw and I have no air left. I want to punch someone. Destroy something. I lean down and pick up a rock from the sidewalk, throw it hard over the fence towards a house.

It bounces off the wall, missing the window, luckily. Darry wouldn't be too happy if he had to pay for a broken window, not now when we have to pay Mr. Parker.

I hurry to take a step back, then I turn around and start to run. I run past five more houses, and then I just drop down to the curb, on my hand and knees. The asphalt is warm underneath me, the sun shining hard. I sit down, drag my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead on them, breathing hard. Something must be wrong when I feel like crying all the time.

xXx

As the days pass, the anger in me takes over more and more. I don't want to start arguments with my brothers, but I do anyway, and even though I regret every shouted word as soon as I have slammed the door of my room shut, it seems like I can't stop. I don't know how they stand me, I can hardly stand myself.

Sometimes I think they regret fighting for me, but I know it's a silly thought. They don't regret it for a second, their eyes are just sad when they look at me, and I think that's what makes it worse. That I feel so bad all the time, for how I treat them. They never expected me to come home and feel anything other than happiness, I guess. I never thought I would either.

My sixteenth birthday comes and goes. It's a good day, actually. One of the few. Two-Bit keeps me company as the others are at work, and when they come home, we eat cake and just hang around. In the evening, we go to the movies, and everyone actually watches it. We laugh a lot on the way home, and it almost feels like the old times for once.

The next day, I have a big fight with Soda again.

I don't even know how it started. Me snapping at something, I guess. I want him to scream back at me, but he doesn't. He just stands on the floor in the living room, trying to reason with me, but I refuse to listen. I just turn around and run when I see his disappointed expression, almost colliding with Steve on my way out.

"Whoa, take it easy!" I hear him say as I bolt down the porch stairs and over our lawn.

I run to the park. It has become my place to cool down, sitting down by the fountain, of all places. I can't look at the water, but I sit on the same spot where I woke up, when Johnny saved my life. I drag my legs up and wrap my arms around them, forcing myself to breathe slowly. What is wrong with me?

I rub my face against my knees, wishing I could understand why I'm acting like this. Why it can't just be good. It should be good.

It always takes a couple of hours to calm down, until I feel like I can go home again, and always when I do, our house is eerily quiet. Not even Darry says anything, if he comes home from work before me. I think they're waiting for it to get better, for the steam to blow out of me, but sometimes I doubt it will. Maybe I will end up like Dally. Suddenly I understand how he had it; with all the emotions running inside of me, I wish I could turn them off. Be cold, like him. Not care anymore.

This time I stay out way too long. I'm hungry and thirsty and cold when I finally rise to make my way home. It must be nearly midnight, I realize when I reach our porch. Afraid of a déjà vu moment, I hesitate before I slowly open the door, scared of finding Darry in the recliner and Soda sleeping on the couch, just like that night. But the living room is empty. Instead, I hear voices from the kitchen.

"What should we do?" I hear Soda say. "We can't let him act like this. He ain't even home yet. What if somethin' happens?"

"I'll give him five more minutes before I go to the park and get him."

I feel my cheeks go red. They know I am at the park when I run? Are they spying on me? I haven't seen them there, but I guess I don't pay attention. I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts.

"He's just so angry all the time." I hear Soda sigh. "He doesn't even talk to me."

"Give him time. He has gone through a lot."

I turn around, open the door again and let it slam shut this time, to show that I'm home. In a second, they both are in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at me. I scuffle inside, pretending to hardly noticing them. I wait for them to ask their usual Are you okay, Pony because then I can snap again, but they don't. They just watch me as I walk past them and into the bathroom, locking the door after me.

Give me time, Darry says. But what if it never gets better?

xXx

When I wake up the next morning, Soda's side of the bed is empty. I sit up slowly, throwing a glance at the clock. It's almost ten a.m, and I guess both of my brothers are at work by now. For some reason, I'm glad to have some time alone.

I drag myself up from bed, walking out in just my pyjama pants, only to jump when I step into the living room and find Steve sitting on the couch. I place one hand over my racing heart, while steadying myself on the wall with the other.

"Shit, Steve, you wanna give me a heart attack?"

He smirks at me, turning a cigarette pack in his hands. I slowly shuffle to the recliner, feeling his eyes on me when I sit down.

"Don't you have work today?" I wonder warily. He looks like he's up to something, but I can't figure out what.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Not today."

I glance to my right, out into the kitchen. "You've had breakfast?"

"I ate yours."

"Mine?"

"Darry told Soda to let you sleep, so I thought why not? It would get cold anyway."

I snort. "Yeah, thanks."

Steve tosses the pack down on the coffee table, raising his eyebrows. "A real ray sunshine today too, huh?"

I frown, feeling how I tense. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean? I'm just wonderin' when you're gonna stop being a pain in the ass." His gaze is hard when it meets mine. "This is hard for them too, you know. They do everythin' for you and you don't even try to make it better. Why don't you just suck it up and act like a sixteen year old?"

"Shut up, Steve!"

"I ain't gonna shut up. I know Soda and Darry do, but someone needs to tell you the fuckin' truth."

I cross my arms. "So what's the truth then?"

He looks at me for so long I get uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I almost believed you for a while there," he finally says, shaking his head.

"What?"

"You know damn well what I'm talkin' about. Stop being a little brat."

"Don't call me that!" I snap. "You have no idea what it's like!" I rise to my feet.

"Runnin' away again?" Steve mocks me, and I spin around to face him, clenching my hands. He leans back against the couch, obviously unaffected by my glare. "Seriously, Pony. Some would think you ain't happy to be home with that mood of yours."

I'm shaking. "I want to be home. You know I want to be home!"

"Then why do you start fights all the time?"

"I don't start them all the time!" I take a step back.

"You know you do."

"I'm just..." I trail off, suddenly feeling very disturbed.

"Angry?" Steve fills in. "Kinda obvious. The main question is, who are you angry at?"

I roll my eyes. He sounds like Dr. Clark. "What, you're my therapist now?"

"I just want you to fuckin' listen."

I don't want this conversation. Not with Steve. Trying to ignore him, I move away in the direction of the kitchen. I need breakfast.

I open our fridge and take out a package of juice, but when I close the fridge again, Steve stands in the doorway, leaning against it.

"Why don't you talk to Soda?" he wonders.

I take down a glass from the cabinet and pouring juice in it. "I talk to Soda," I say, avoiding.

He snorts. "Right. So you mean he doesn't come to me, saying that you don't? Makes me wonder what kind of secrets you have."

I take my glass and go to the table, sitting down. "I don't have any." I refuse to look at him, but he takes the chair opposite of mine. He won't let me get away.

"Just like with that kid, Joey, right? You know, you owe me one. I kept my mouth shut about that."

I just stare at my glass. I wish he didn't bring that up again.

"You moved around a lot."

I press my lips together.

"I bet there were reasons."

"It wasn't like you think, Steve," I say harshly.

"What about the bruises?"

"I already told you about them."

"But it was lies, wasn't it?"

"No!"

"Then what? What about the first one? The fight?"

"It was a fight! I fought with Ricky."

"The pitchfork, then?"

I clamp my mouth shut again, closing my eyes. It's not like I don't want to continue to lie, but it's like I can't. He can read me like an open book anyway, he has proven it before.

"Shit," Steve swears. "Who was it?"

"God, Steve..." I mumble.

"Who was it?" he repeats, emphasizing every word.

"Um... you remember Andrew? It was his dad." I look up again. "But it wasn't that bad, it was just a couple of times -"

"Why didn't you say something?" Steve interrupts me. I drop my arm down at the table, clenching my fist.

"I tried! I told Ms. West and she didn't listen. She didn't believe me! And I knew you couldn't do anythin' anyway so what was the point? I didn't want to worry Darry and Soda." I take a deep breath to calm down. "Are you gonna tell Soda about this?" I force out next.

"I don't know."

"Please don't!" I beg. "I know I asked you before too, but I... I can tell him myself someday but not now. Okay? Just not now."

"Was there another one?"

"Steve come on..."

"You know you need to get it out."

"Mr. Collins maybe belted me twice but it wasn't bad."

Steve shakes his head, frustrated. "Just listen to yourself, Pony. It wasn't bad. Shit."

I scowl at him. "You say the same about your dad!"

"I never said that."

"You say that you don't care."

"You bet I don't. But this ain't about my old man." This time he is the one who looks away, and I feel bad for a second, for hurting him, but then I think that he was the one who started this. If he's going to tell me stuff, I can tell him some stuff. If I hurt him, well, he hurt me too. He shouldn't bring this up.

"So what else?" Steve suddenly says, making me jump. He's looking at me with his arms crossed now.

"Nothin'."

"Nothin'," he repeats ironically. "Twenty months, a week in the mental ward and then comin' home as happy as a fuckin' clam." He almost spits out the last.

"You don't have to care!"

"Bullshit!" He glares at me again. "Who do you think took care of Soda while you were gone? He was a mess, Pony. All he wanted was for you to come home, and all you do is lie to him and start fights with -"

"I don't mean to start fights all the time. It just happens!" I shout out.

I feel how I blush under Steve's stare. He's studying me with dark eyes, and my stomach crumbles up. Shit, why is he doing this? I don't even know why I tell him things. I should just shut up, I don't know why I'm talking to Steve of all people!

Maybe because he at least brings it up. My brothers and Two-Bit... sometimes I hate the way they seem to think, that everything should be just fine now. Like I would be the same person I was before. They expect so much. For me to smile and be happy and just... move on. I can't do that. It's in my head, all the time.

"I just... I just keep thinkin' about it." I drag my hands over my face. "I'm... I'm mad. I'm mad at the state and everything they did, and I'm mad at myself for not being able to handle it and I'm so, so angry at -" I interrupt myself.

"What?" Steve urges, and I become even more red, feel my eyes water up.

"Darry and Soda, okay? I'm so angry at them and I know that's unfair. It wasn't their fault, but they got to stay here! You all had each other and I had no one." Angrily I wipe my eyes with my arm. "And you all are over eighteen now but I'm not, I don't know how long I can stay here. What if Mr. Parker is wrong? What if I can't stay? What if they say that Ms. West made a mistake placing me here? They can say that. Mr. Johnson didn't want me to go home, he wanted to place me at the boys home again!"

I look down at the table top, blinking furiously. My legs are shaking. I want to run again so badly, but I force myself to stay. To breathe.

I know why I am afraid, why I fight, why I can't relax. I don't believe this. It's not true - it won't last. Any day now, Ms. West will knock on our door, telling me to come. And Darry and Soda will stand there and let it happen. Say to me it's just for a week. They did the last time, so why not again? And the next foster family... the next place...

"You know," Steve says suddenly, snapping me back from my thoughts. "When my dad threw me out the first few times? I never came here. I used to go and buy some beer and sit in the park and drink. I loved to get drunk. And then maybe I went to start a fight with someone. Smash someone's face in."

I look up to meet his gaze. It's still hard, but calmer.

"The one I really wanted to punch was my dad. But I couldn't. I used to think it was all my fault anyway. That nothin' would change. That it didn't matter what I did or didn't do." He hesitates. "Then one day... it was your mom. She said bad things happen. You can't do anythin' about them, they just happen. But you can chose what you do. She said I could chose to be angry, chose to drink and fight, or I could come here and sleep on the couch and get breakfast. It was up to me."

I swallow, but the lump in my throat refuses to disappear.

"All I'm sayin'... yeah, you fuckin' know what I'm sayin'."

I don't answer, unable to speak. Steve rises, and I follow him with my eyes. He grabs his keys from his pocket.

"You want to get out of here? Get somethin' to eat maybe? DQ? My treat."

I think for a while, and then I nod slowly, rising too.

xXx

Bad things just happen, Steve said. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's true we couldn't do anything about what happened, that it was out of our hands. That I didn't have any choice before, but now I have. I think about it a lot, struggling with it.

I still feel uneasy at times, but I start to at least try to enjoy being home, looking forward instead of focusing on the past. Look at the great things in life and not the bad. Think positive. Think that Mr. Parker is right, that I am home to stay for real.

I try to talk to Soda sometimes, but it's hard to get the words out. I don't want to worry him with my thoughts, but I think he understands anyway. Maybe Steve told him what we talked about - or maybe not. Somehow I doubt he did. I guess Soda is just Soda, able to understand me like no one else can. And things start to get better.

There is another thing that disturb me a lot, though. It must show, because even Two-Bit tries to talk to me while the others are at work. I just shake my head as we walk along the sidewalk, saying that it's nothing when he asks.

"Yeah," Two-Bit agrees. "Nothin's heavy stuff. I don't know anythin' that makes me more moody than that."

I roll my eyes, but I don't say anything.

"Want to go by the DX, see how Soda and Steve are holding up?"

I shrug. "Sure."

"I'm happy you are so enthusiastic over my great ideas, Ponyboy."

I elbow him, but then I can't help but smile.

Two-Bit is not Steve, and right now I'm so thankful for it. He lets go, doesn't question me anymore, just babbling about some new experience he had this weekend. I don't really listen.

Soda and Steve sit outside the garage in the sun when we arrive, DX-caps turned backwards, Pepsi's in hands.

"Look at them hard workers," Two-Bit says as we approach them.

"What's up?" Soda asks, eyeing me. Two-Bit places an arm around my shoulders.

"Oh, just taking this one out for a walk."

"We have a break," Soda says unnecessarily. "You want somethin' to drink? Just go in and grab one, I'll fix with the payment later."

I wriggle out from Two-Bit's arm and go, but he stays. When I come out again with a Pepsi, I have a feeling he has said something about me to them. I can't be sure though. They don't say anything at least, and I try not to think of it while sitting down next to Soda, opening my can.

We stay for about half an hour, and then Two-Bit and I walk home again. I really miss Johnny sometimes. I feel it more now than I did before - I never got the chance to be used to him being gone before I was taken away. I like to hang out with Two-Bit, too, though. He makes me laugh a lot until my brothers come home from work.

While Soda takes a shower that evening, Darry cooks dinner. I set the table, and I like the familiar feeling it gives me. Sometimes I can pretend everything is just like it used to be.

But the thought from before doesn't leave me alone. When we sit down to eat, I twirl my spaghetti around my fork, but I'm not hungry. I'm just nervous. I see how Darry and Soda share glances, but at first they don't say anything. I guess they think about how I used to snap at everything not even a week ago. I am better, but I'm not sure they believe it.

They stand my mood until Soda is finished with his meal and puts his fork down. He eyes my plate, then looks at me.

"What's wrong?" he asks warily.

If this was before the conversation with Steve, I know I would have said something harsh back, maybe got up on my feet to be able to run. Now I think about what he said, about choices. I can chose to let it get to me, or I can chose to handle it. And I know I must handle it.

"It's... I'm just thinkin' about stuff." I put my cutlery down too, place my hands in my lap so they won't see that they start shaking. "The trial," I add, trying to sound casual but I fail big time, I can tell.

"Joey's trial?" Darry says carefully.

I make a little grimace. "Yeah."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Soda moves his chair a bit closer. "If you've got to testify, we'll be there with you, okay?"

"But what if we get in trouble?"

Darry frowns. "Why would we be in trouble? You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I never told anyone what he was like. I should have. If I wasn't there, Aidan would still be alive." The words almost make me nauseous. I know they are true.

Soda shakes his head. "You can't think like that, okay? You never chose to be there."

I shrug weakly. I don't know what to think.

"Pony, listen," Darry says. "We'll deal with it together if it comes to that. I ain't sure they even want your testimony. The guy confessed and you're both underage. And come to think of what happened to you..." He trails off, uncertain. We never talk about the hospital. Never.

"You mean they think I'm crazy?" I mumble, looking down.

"Not that. You know you ain't crazy," Soda says. "Pony c'mon..."

"I know... I know."

Soda leans forward and ruffles my hair before I have the time to react. "And besides, you know I'm the crazy one in this family, right?" he suddenly grins.

I move out of his way. "Yeah, you maybe should be locked up!" I throw at him, and I can't help but grin back, flying up on my feet. "We might call Dr. Clark. What do you say, Darry?"

Darry just chuckles and shakes his head as Soda starts to chase me around the kitchen.

xXx

I hesitate for a second, then knock on the door to the counselor's office. The little green lamp outside lights up, and I push the door open, walking inside. Mr. Kane sits behind his desk, taking off his glasses when he sees me.

"Ponyboy Curtis," he says. "What brings you here?"

I swallow. I still have a hard time trusting grown ups, always afraid that anything I say will be turned against me. Even if Mr. Kane has been nice to me before, Mr. Syme always was too.

"I need to change a class."

"Something wrong with your schedule?"

I walk closer, gripping the paper in my hand. I just got it this morning, the first day of school, junior year, but I know I will rather drop out than follow it like it is right now.

"No. Yeah. I mean... I need to change my English class."

Mr. Kane holds out his hand and I give him the paper, watching him scanning it over. "You don't want advanced English? But your grades are great, I'm sure you -"

"It ain't that." I blush a little for having interrupted him as he looks up at me. "I... um, I can't have Mr. Syme."

Mr. Kane frowns slightly. "Mr. Syme?"

"I want another teacher. I won't go to class if I have Mr. Syme." I manage to not let my voice shake.

"And why is that?"

I shift uncomfortably. I think he knows, why does he want me to say it? I can't do it. I remain silent, and after a while, he sighs.

"Well, I guess I know what the problem is. I will see what I can do. I might have to move some other classes to make the schedule fit, but I still want you to go to the other classes until then, okay?"

"You mean I can skip English?"

"For now, yes. Come back tomorrow and I'll let you know about your new schedule."

I nod, relieved. "Thanks."

I feel much lighter as I walk out of his office again. It was hard coming back to school, harder when I noticed how people were staring at me, but the worst was when I discovered that they had placed me in Mr. Syme's class again. I don't even want to see him. I wish I had been able to change schools completely, but then I would have to take the bus since no one can drive me.

I heave the backpack higher up onto my shoulder, making my way to my homeroom before the bell rings.

I make it through the day without too many mishaps. Sometimes I get the question where I have been for the last years, from classmates I used to be friends with. I tell them I visited relatives, not wanting the truth out, and they don't even doubt me.

When the day is over, I put the books I need to take home in my backpack and close my locker. I walk around the corner and stop short, my eyes widening. It must be one of life's ironical moments. The only person I didn't want to see, didn't want to meet, stands by a cracked window, talking to a janitor. He stands turned against me, too, so there is no way he can't see me. Mr. Syme.

I just stare at him as he pats the janitors shoulder, then starts to head in my direction. I stand like frozen, wanting to hate him so much, and my heart rushes so fast it makes a buzz in my head. I know I could run. Just turn around to go, I don't have to talk to him.

He stops a few feet away, smiling. "Hello, Ponyboy," he says. "I heard you were coming back to our school."

He doesn't look like a monster. Doesn't sound like one. He's just a human, he made a mistake, but it was a mistake that almost destroyed my life. I want him to know that, but I don't know what to say.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Syme asks, sounding worried when I don't answer.

That's when I feel the anger again, but it's a new sort of anger. Not the burning, exploding one. This one is everywhere, making me cold, making me strong, somehow. I dare to look him in the eye.

"Actually," I say, "I ain't okay."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He frowns a little. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

I feel my gaze turn even harder. "Help me with?" I repeat.

"You are one of my favourite students, Ponyboy. I want your life to turn out good."

"No you don't."

"Excuse me?" He looks puzzled.

"I think you just want to feel good about yourself," I say harshly. "I bet you think you're some kind of a good guy 'cause you made that call."

He shakes his head. "You know why I had to do it."

"Do I?" I take a step back. I think of how my life would have been if I never wrote that stupid theme. If I had been allowed to stay with my brothers. If I never had to move around, if I could have stayed in this school. He had been my favorite teacher. Because I know why I wrote the theme, it was not to just to get the words out of me. It was to show someone, just make someone understand us, understand what really happened. I thought he would be that person, and I was wrong.

"I trusted you," I say, narrowing my eyes. "You know that?"

"You can still trust me."

"What?"

"I'm your teacher. I still want what's best for you."

I almost laugh in disbelief.

"Maybe we can go and talk somewhere?"

I gape at him. "You really think I wanna talk to you? I don't even want to see you! And you ain't my teacher. You really thought I would be sittin' in your class again? You have no idea what I've been through the last two years. I could tell you, but I know you wouldn't care!"

"Ponyboy, I -"

"Mr. Syme, don't." I shake my head. "Just don't. Don't talk to me. Ever again."

With one last glare, I just walk past him, leaving him in the corridor.

Going home.

I want to thank you all so, so much for your support of this story! It really means everything, so Thank you! And I really hope you want to leave a final review and tell me what you think.

Sequel is out, title: Burning Inside