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Two days after Johnny Cade was released from the hospital, he showed up on the Curtis brothers’ doorstep, bleeding badly from a puffed up nose, sporting a black eye, and supporting an arm that didn’t look quite right.
I had just been getting ready for school when he showed up, bruised and hanging his head like a sad puppy. He’d knocked on the door once; he was the only one who ever knocked and that was how I knew it was him. Darry and Sodapop knew this too, so Soda, who was sitting on the couch, asked very loudly, “What’s Johnny want?” before I’d even opened the door.
I nearly choked over the mouthful of cereal in my mouth when I caught sight of him. “Hey, Ponyboy,” Johnny said, clutching his arm. His shirt was torn and I could see through to his blotchy skin. “Sorry, I know it’s a school day…” he knew how Darry was, just as I did.
“Come in,” I said. “Darry won’t care. What happened?”
Johnny stumbled in and reluctantly sat down at the table, breathing all heavy and clutching that twisted arm of his. “My father… he… he was really mad about the, uh. The hospital bills.”
“What the hell? So he decided to bruise you up an’ send you right back?” Sodapop was in the kitchen now, eyes wide and irritated. “Your dad’s a real piece of work, if you don’t mind me saying so, Johnny.”
“I know,” Johnny mumbled, hunching over. I pulled up a chair next to him.
“Where’s it hurt?” I asked, telling Sodapop, “Get Darry.”
“My arm, of course.” Johnny cringed as he pulled back the fabric of his torn jacket, but he clenched his teeth and got through it like he always did, showing me the deep cuts and bruises. “I landed on it real bad.”
He was starting to tremble. “You did something good,” I said to him, trying to reassure him. “Those kids would’ve died if not for you, Johnny. It’s not your fault. Really. The hospital’s just… expensive.”
“What happened?” It was Darry. Sodapop had found him. He was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, eyes wide as he stared at Johnny. Then he rushed over and dropped to the ground so he could examine the injuries better. When he touched Johnny’s face, to see how extensive his wounds were, Johnny flinched so hard I reached forward and moved Darry’s hand away. “Sorry,” Darry said. “I’ll get some bandaids, okay? Make you feel all better. You can stay here, today, how about that?”
“Thank you, Darry,” Johnny said quietly, staring at the table still. Darry stood up, clicking his tongue like our mom used to, and walked over to Soda, who was lingering by the door like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He probably didn’t.
“Sodapop,” he said, “Take the day off of work today. Tell Steve. You’re staying home with Johnny and Pony.”
“What?” Johnny looked alarmed. “You don’t all have to stay here with me. I’ll be fine. Promise. My old man’s like this all the time. No sweat.” he was still holding his arm real tight, though, for ‘no sweat’. But I didn’t say that out loud.
“Oh, we’re past worrying,” Darry said decisively, looking at Johnny and me. “We’re gettin’ the boys here with you. Soda, I betcha Dally would stay if he knew Johnny was here, so get him. Two-bit, too. Should help.”
Sodapop nodded and ran for the door. Darry followed, then doubled back to look at us again. I had started to rub Johnny’s shoulder with my hand; it made him feel comfortable, he had told me once. He didn’t react this time, but he didn’t flinch away, and I took that as a good sign. “Pony,” Darry instructed me in his stern voice, meeting my eyes, “you’re sick today, alright? You’re staying home ’cause you’re sick. That’s what you tell people, you dig?”
“Yes, Darry.”
He nodded at me and followed Sodapop out the door, leaving me to take care of Johnny.
While we waited for the boys, I fished the leftover cake from the fridge and set it up with a nice glass of milk for Johnny, giving him a weed to go with it. He lit it up and laid back on his chair; he refused to eat the chocolate cake on the couch like the others did, because he was a tad bit cleaner than the rest of ’em and didn’t want any mess. He was chewing his bottom lip as he puffed.
“Johnny…” I said slowly. I wasn’t sure how to approach this, really; Johnny normally didn’t mind talking about his pops, but he looked especially torn up now, and I didn’t want to upset him. “Why did you come here this time?”
He looked up at me, appearing almost frantic. “I’m sorry, Pony. Should I have not come?”
“No,” I sat back down in the open chair I’d been using before, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was just wonderin’. Y’know. Because you’ve had the hair beat off you a bunch before, and you haven’t come back here.”
Johnny stared mournfully at the used cancer stick as he put it on the plate next to the uneaten cake. His fingers wrapped around the fork as he debated taking a bite, and I looked away, thinking maybe I was being too creepy watching him.
“Pony,” Johnny said finally, setting down the fork with a clank, “shoot, Pony, I came here because you visited me every day in the hospital, you and Dally. And I thought, here’s what I thought, Pony, I thought, ‘here’s this kid, who I put through hell, and here he is, and he’s cryin’ over my stupid burns and pleadin’ for me to get better and readin’ me Gone with the Wind.’ And I thought, ‘I’m so lucky to have this kid’. And I was thinking this the whole time my dad was yellin’ at me, I was thinking you and Dally were really the only things keepin’ me going here.”
“Oh,” I said, but he wasn’t done.
“I came here because I thought, ‘Dally hasn’t got no house, where’s he gonna keep me?’ and then I realized he wasn’t the only one who cared. At least, I think.” he lowered his gaze self-consciously. “I just, I thought since, y’know, you could tell me about sunsets and stuff like that, we were… I donno. Best friends.”
That shocked me, but it was a good kind of shock. I opened my mouth to interject — I’d never seen Johnny speak this much, I usually didn’t have to fight to speak — but he cut me off again: “I’m sorry, Pony. I’m so sorry.”
As he said this he lowered his head and cradled it in the hand he dared to move. He looked close to losing it. “I meant it,” he told me, voice shaky, “I meant it when I said I’d kill myself or something. Back then.”
“You can’t,” I argued, finally getting a word in. “I said it before, Johnny, right? You just can’t. You can’t kill yourself. You’re right, we’re best friends, so, that means you can’t.”
Johnny sniffled a bit and leaned his head on my shoulder. “Yeah, okay, I won’t,” he mumbled. “I won’t. Alright? So don’t cry for me, please, Pony.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d started.
“Okay,” I whispered, and we sat there together for a while longer, pretending we weren’t slowly losing our minds.
Then the door burst open, and Dally, Soda, and Two-bit trickled in, voices that had been loud and rowdy five seconds ago dulling to a quiet hum as Dally rushed over to check Johnny and Two-bit leaned against the fridge, cussing out anything he could think of.
“Dammit, Johnny, that father of yours,” Two-bit said as Johnny sat up and Dally glared at his wounds. “Someone outta take him out back and soak him a bit. See how he likes it.”
Johnny visibly winced. I understood best I could; even though Johnny’s father was cruel towards him, he was still his father. Somehow, Johnny still loved him. Two-bit didn’t seem to understand, though, going on and on until Dally eventually snapped, “Two-bit, shut it,” and he fell silent.
Dally stood and huffed. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him, eyes all bright and blazing like they did when he got dangerous. Johnny’s beatings regularly brought out this side of Dally, so I wasn’t surprised, but it was still scary. I didn’t even dare to speak as Dally said, “Where’s it hurt, Johnny? Where’d he hurt you?” he didn’t say any vile words like Two-bit had, though he looked an awful lot like he wanted to.
Johnny showed off his scrapes and cuts. Sodapop retrieved bandaids from the bathroom and applied them as gently as he could; Dally instructed Johnny to hold still as he took hold of his arm. “This is going to hurt a lot,” he said, “so bite this.” he held out the fork.
“No, bite this,” I interrupted, against my better judgment, grabbing a stick Sodapop had brought in from the yard. “It’s grosser, but the fork’ll hurt your teeth more, I think.”
Dally looked at me for a moment like he was debating soaking me right then, but then he took the stick and held it out to Johnny. “Thanks, Ponyboy,” Johnny muttered as he placed the stick into his mouth. He looked terrified, and I didn’t blame him, because I didn’t know what Dally was going to do and I was too.
I took Johnny’s free hand as Dally cleared his throat and said, “On the count of three, I’m gonna reset your arm. It’s dislocated.”
“Oh, God, Dally,” Sodapop moaned, from somewhere behind us.
“One…” Dally started to count, ignoring Soda.
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut tight and clenched his teeth. His fingernails were digging into my palm, making my eyes water, but I didn’t pull away.
“Two…”
“Just do it already!” Johnny hissed.
Dally jerked into movement, Johnny shrieked (though it was muffled a bit by the stick, it was still loud), and there was a pop as Johnny’s arm slid back into place. Johnny’s grip eased on my hand and he moved his arm a bit, opening his eyes slowly. “It feels better,” he said softly.
“Good,” Dally said, standing. “Now have some of that cake. It’s good stuff, Soda didn’t make it.”
“Hey!” Soda yelled. He’d retreated to the living room, and was sitting on the couch with Two-bit, who laughed and pounded on Soda’s back. The two were tussling on the floor before I could even blink; now both of them were laughing.
I remained sitting by Johnny as he started digging into the cake. His eyes didn’t leave the slice until it was gone, and by then Dally had found some cold peas hidden in the back of the fridge. He pressed them against Johnny’s arm. “That feels good,” Johnny hummed with a slightly drowsy grin. It was only then that I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
“That’s good.” Dally was brisk with his words, and he kept turning away from us to gather stuff. I didn’t know why. Maybe he didn’t want us to see how angry he was. “In a bit, move it to the eye, okay? There’s no ice in here, dammit, Pony, why doesn’t your family ever have anything?”
“We have plenty!” Soda shouted from the living room. He had Two-bit successfully pinned. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit at their antics. They eased me a bit, reminded me everything was still normal.
Dally went to reply but was cut off by a knock at the door. “Who could that be?” I wondered as he went to get it. It could be Steve, I mused, but then, didn’t he have work? He was covering Soda’s shift, I thought.
Dally opened the door and immediately let out a string of swear words so fierce everyone turned their heads.
I’d only seen Johnny’s dad a few times, and the most recent one was the only time I really remembered the details. He’d been dropping Johnny off at school one day, practically yelling his ear off as he’d shoved him out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Johnny had showed me the bruises later, they hadn’t been pretty.
He was a tall man who stood hunched over and had an excessive overbite and didn’t have any of Johnny’s good looks, just a scowl and hair that looked permanently ruffled by some invisible wind.
Now, standing in the doorway to my house, the only noticeable difference was that his clothes had stains on them and his eyes had deep, dark circles to match his son’s.
“Who the hell are you? Where’s Johnny?” he asked, in a loud, booming voice that instantly made Johnny seize up, gripping my hand for life support. In the living room, Soda and Two-bit went quiet, their yelling silenced by Mr. Cade’s angry bellow.
“Up your fat ass, Mr. Cade,” Dally sneered. He was as tall as Mr. Cade and clearly not afraid of him; he leaned against the doorway and popped a cancer stick into his mouth as lazily as possible as Mr. Cade trembled before him.
Johnny’s father grabbed Dally by the jacket and drew him right up to his face. “Now you listen here—”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Two-bit snarled, slithering out of the living room with Soda by his side. His switchblade had been drawn, and his eyes were narrowed. “Put Dally down and we’ll have a nice chat, shall we?”
“I don’t need you sticking up for me, Two-bit,” Dally huffed, drawing his own blade and putting it real close to Mr. Cade’s throat. “Either you drop me right now or your throat’s getting sliced up, sir.” The last word was cutting, like venom dripping off Dally’s tongue. He sounded almost amused. Mr. Cade hesitated. “Have it your way if you like,” Dally whistled, edging the switchblade closer, “it’s more fun for me.”
Mr. Cade dropped him and took a step back. His eyes darted, crazed, to Johnny, who was sitting with his back to him, not saying anything. He was still like a lifeless corpse. I reached to feel his pulse, just to know he was still alive. He was, and I wondered distantly what I would do if Mr. Cade somehow got past Dally and tried to get to Johnny as the scene unfolded before me.
“Johnny, come back with your father. That’s an order.” Mr. Cade said sharply.
“You don’t have to go. You know he doesn’t care for you, Johnny,” I whispered to him quietly as he started to shake. My fingers tightened around his hand, willing him to stay. I didn’t want to see him beat up again.
“Where would I live?” Johnny asked softly, moving to stand.
“Dammit,” Dally snapped, spotting Johnny’s movement. He whirled on Mr. Cade again, slashing his cheek in the process. Mr. Cade shrieked and reached up to clasp his face as it started to bleed, eyes stretched wide with undisguised terror. “You touch him again, and I’ll wipe you clean off this Earth’s surface without even thinking about it, okay? You got it? I’ll find you, Mr. Cade. I’ve been in the cooler before, I’ve dealt with the fuzz before, so don’t think I’m afraid to go back. Don’t test me.”
Mr. Cade was trembling as he backed away. “Johnny will come home,” he said. “Trust me, young man. He knows where he belongs. You and your little friends can’t shield him all his life.”
He ran away before Dally could argue different, racing down the street with his hand pressed against his cut. Dally waited until he disappeared to close the door.
“Well, that was something,” Two-bit remarked as silence fell. Soda socked him in the arm, and back to fighting they went. I had to duck as one of Two-bit’s shoes went flying off. It struck the wall with a loud thunk and dropped to the ground near the stove. None of us paid it any mind.
“He’s gonna kill me,” Johnny whispered faintly, under his breath. I leaned closer to hear his words better. “He’s gonna kill me,” he repeated, eyes wide. “He’s gonna kill me if I ever go back there.”
“No he won’t,” I said firmly, anger leaking into my tone.
“What Pony said,” Dally added, from the corner, where he was leaning against the countertop, having a smoke. “Because then I’ll have to get charged for murder. I don’t feel like goin’ to the cooler again. I’d sooner shoot a cop.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said, appalled.
Dally flashed me a dangerous smirk. “You wanna bet, Ponyboy?”
I didn’t. Luckily, Johnny distracted me from having to answer. He leaned his head on my shoulder again. “I’m sorry, Pony. I’m sorry I got you involved, now he knows where you live, and I’m sorry…”
“Yeah, how’d he know?” Sodapop called from the living room.
“Probably heard my screams.” Johnny whimpered. “He’s attune to them by now.”
Dally cussed. “Don’t worry, Johnnycake, he ain’t touchin’ you again. Plus, you’re strong. You’ve got this.”
I wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulder as he sighed. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You’ve made it this far,” I added.
“I have.” he sounded so sad, though. Maybe he wished he hadn’t. I decided not to think about that.
It was Dally and I’s main goal to distract Johnny for the rest of the day. Two-bit and Soda helped as best they could, too (though they just ended up fighting a lot), and by the time the sun was setting Steve had joined us and we were just waiting on Darry. We were cooking dinner, Soda and me, when he finally showed.
“How are you, Johnny?” Darry asked as soon as he was through the door. He tossed his jacket onto Soda like he was a coat rack and sat beside Johnny, who hadn’t really moved from the kitchen table since that morning. He was reading Gone with the Wind, though he set it down so he could focus on Darry.
“I’m okay. Thanks for letting me stay.”
“Of course.” Darry stood, and he was examining Soda’s cooking when Dally decided to unload the whole story on him. Darry’s eyes grew darker with each part, and by the time Dally was finished, Darry had turned to Johnny, the offer sounding practically desperate. “Stay with us, for a bit, Johnny. A few days. Just to let it cool off. Please?”
“Please,” I agreed, trying to meet Johnny’s eyes. I gave him the best, most hopeful smile I could muster, hoping it would help persuade him.
Eventually, he nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
I raced over, forgetting Johnny was injured, and threw him into a hug. “It’s not, I promise! I just didn’t want to offer without Darry…”
“Alright, get off of him, you’re gonna snap his arm again,” Dally snorted, peeling me away.
Johnny looked teary-eyed. “It’s okay, Dally. I don’t mind, as long as he’s not hitting me.”
“Never,” I promised, as fiercely as I could. “We’re family.”
Johnny’s eyes latched onto mine, and he smiled. “Yeah. We’re family, aren’t we?”