Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You think these shoes are okay?”

Soda looked down, Darry was wearing their Dad’s old loafers, the only dress shoes they owned that would fit his brother’s monster-sized feet. The toes were scuffed and the soles a bit worn from years of meetings at the bank and parent-teacher conferences, but you couldn’t look at them and not think of Dad, and he knew Darry felt the same.

“Yeah man, you look great. Those guys aren’t going to believe what a total smoke show the great Darrel Curtis turned out to be.”

Darry scoffed, ducking his head, and Soda could see the pink rising in his cheeks. He went to grab his dress shirt out of the closet. It was nice, took Soda about a week to convince him to get it in the first place. But Soda had never been more glad he’d talked his brother into buying something than he was at that moment.

“I just haven’t seen these guys since I dropped out, you know? That seems like a lifetime ago now. I mean, what do I even say to them?”

When some of Darry’s buddies back from his high school football days had called him up to go out this weekend, they’d been floored. Soda couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen most of them. Their parent’s funeral, maybe? Had they even shown up for Darry that day? He didn’t remember seeing them there now that he thought about it. But Soda pushed the thought out of his head. They were Darry’s friends, he’d been almost as tight with them as he was with their own gang, he couldn’t imagine them skipping out.

And Darry was nervous, maybe more nervous than Soda had ever seen him. So he figured the best thing he could do before his big brother’s night on the town was play hype man, and remind him that he was the golden boy of the East Side for a reason.

“Well, that’s easy. You’ll go in there with that Superman smile of yours and charm the pants off of them, and tell them all about how good you’re doing, how you’ve got a tuff job you got that keeps you so fit you have to beat the girls off with a stick, and how you’ve still got time to keep your knuckleheaded brother’s out of trouble.”

Darry ran the shirt through his hands, a frown pulling at his mouth. He frowned a lot lately. “And then they’ll tell me how they’re all on fast tracks to be lawyers and doctors and whatever else daddy can pay for, and how they got their whole life planned out for them without a care in the world.”

Soda sighed. It was hard for him to remember sometimes because that was a life he never cared to have. He’d always been happy in his little corner of the world, working at the DX station and spending his nights off at the drive-in. Maybe he’d settle down one day, or maybe him and Steve would raise hell until the end of time. But the work was fun and brought him a sense of pride at the end of the day, so he didn’t see the point in dreaming of something bigger.

But Darry wasn’t meant for all of this. He never complained, not to Soda at least, but he knew how hard it’d been for Darry to give up everything he’d dreamed of just to keep them together. It was a debt he didn’t know how he’d ever repay, so he did what he could. He tried to soothe his brother's worries when they piled on and soften Darry’s edges when they became too sharp.

That’s why tonight was a good thing, as far as Soda was concerned. A chance for Darry to face the demons of the past, the ones that told him he was a fool for giving up everything just to keep his family together. Darry deserved a shot to show them just how good he was doing, how happy he was, how filled his life was with love, because wasn’t that all that mattered anyway?

“And you’re sure you don’t mind if I go tonight, I know you and Steve usually head out to the races. I could hang back—”

Soda laughed, shaking his head. His brother worried more than anyone he knew. “Darry, go have fun. I don’t think you’ve had a night off since Mom and Dad died.”

Darry looked down at the dress shirt he had in his hands, now crumpled in his fist. He’d need to iron it again.

“I really shouldn’t be spending the money,” he said, more to himself than Soda.

“Why not? Me and Pony go out and spend money all the time and you don’t sweat it.”

Darry shrugged, “That’s different.”

His brother looked so lost right then, his eyes bruised and his skin worn from spending his days under a summer sun that offered no escape. It’d only been a few months since he’d slapped Pony and their lives seemed to twist into something they no longer understood. Soda knew that Darry blamed himself for all of it, even if nobody else did. He wished he could take away some of the ache that his brother held onto, but he could at least give him this.

“Darry, listen to me, okay? We’ll be fine. We’re just gonna watch a movie or something, invite Two-Bit and Steve over if we get bored. You’re allowed to have fun every once in a while, alright?”

Darry seemed to consider this for a moment, running his shirt through his fingers. He looked up at Soda through his lashes, his smile soft and lazy. He reminded Soda so much of the boy he’d once been, instead of the man he’d been forced to become. “You just want to have the house to yourself for a night. I know your game, little buddy.”

And Soda couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of him, at the strangeness of their lives, at how full his heart felt with his brothers around, and Darry surprised him by laughing along with him. In that moment, with a lightness in his chest, Soda felt like maybe everything could be okay again.

They invited the guys over to play poker. Soda was only half convinced it was a mistake.

The air was thick with the haze of cigarette smoke, and beer cans scattered the living room floor like weeds in a yard. He knew Darry was going to kill them when he finally got home, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The summer air felt sticky against Soda’s skin as he lazed in Darry’s recliner.

“Can’t believe Superman’s still out on the town, he must be having one hell of a night,” Two-Bit said.

“Yeah, maybe those rich friends of his found him a nice Soc girl to run away with. Decided to finally dump your sorry asses,” Steve said elbowing Soda in the ribs.

Soda laughed, but it sounded strange in his ears. Darry should have been home hours ago, but they hadn’t heard a word from him. A gnawing dread had lodged itself in his chest when the clock struck midnight and Darry hadn’t turned up, and now, nearing three in the morning, he could feel himself fighting off panic.

Ponyboy, however, didn’t share the same fear. “You know how much hell he’d raise if I was this late? I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house for a month, but Darry gets to stay out all night if he wants.” He looked at his cards, frowning, then threw them on the table in defeat. His face twisted in annoyance. “He’s so unfair.”

But Pony didn’t always think clearly, not when it came to Darry. He didn’t remember Darry their brother like Soda did. The guy who was quick to smile and could make you feel like you were the most important guy in the world. He could only see Darry their hard-ass authority figure, who yelled too much and kept them on a leash so tight that sometimes it felt like Dad hadn’t really left at all. 

But Darry was dependable, and above all else, no matter how unfair Pony thought he was, the guy was no hypocrite. If they weren’t allowed to stay out this late without so much as a phone call, there’s no way Darry would do it. He knew what it was like to fall asleep by the phone, desperate for it to ring, and yet terrified of what a middle of the night phone call might bring.

“Aww shucks, it ain’t Darry’s fault, kid. He just knows you’ve gotta have a babysitter to keep that head on straight is all.” Two-Bit said, dropping his cards for the room to see. Full house. Soda shook his head, he never could understand that guy’s luck.

Ponyboy punched him in the arm. “Shut it, Two-Bit. The only one needing a babysitter around here is you.”

“Whatever Pone, want me to go fix your bottle?” And with that, Ponyboy pounced, and it became a mash of knees and elbows.

The fight broke up when the telephone rang, and Soda didn’t think he’d ever moved so fast in his life.

“Darry, that you?” His voice shook and he hated it. He cleared his throat, hoping his brother didn’t notice.

There was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment, Soda thought the call got dropped. Then he heard a low groan. “Soda?”

“Yeah buddy, I’m here, those friends of yours must know how to have a good time.” He laughed, but it sounded frail.

Another pause, then finally Darry answered. “Think. I might. Need. A ride.”

Something was wrong, Darry was talking too slow, his breathing too loud.

“Dar, you alright, what happened?”

“Got. Jumped.” 

The words sloshed around in his brain and he couldn’t seem to make sense of them. Darry didn’t get jumped, he’d never lost a fight. There wasn’t a world where his big brother could get hurt.

Darry must have shifted because he could hear a sudden gasp in pain before he continued. “ I’m ‘kay. Don’t worry. Tires. Slashed, though. Can’t drive.”

He couldn’t deal with the thought of his brother, alone and hurting. His mind shifted focus to something he could fix. “What, on your truck?”

“I’ll. Explain. Just get here. Please,” Darry said, voice so weary Soda wished he could lie down and weep.

“Right, of course. We’re on our way now, see you in a few.”

“Hey, Soda?”

“Yeah Dar, what is it?”

“Leave. Pony. At home. ‘Kay?”

Soda’s grip on the phone tightened. That, more than anything, told him just how bad off Darry was.

“Yeah, of course. We’ll be there soon, okay? Just hang in there.”

Darry grunted in response, and Soda hated how ragged his breathing sounded, even through the static of the telephone, then the line went dead.

Soda held the phone in his hand, staring at it in disbelief. Fear crashed through him like a tidal wave. What was he supposed to do? Darry would know, Darry always knew. How was he supposed to fix this for him?

“Soda?” 

He looked up to find Pony standing right in front of him, worry painted over his features. 

Soda took a deep breath and stitched himself together, giving his brother one of his lazy smiles. “Looks like Darry needs a ride after all.”

In the end, Pony didn’t give him nearly as much grief as he expected. Steve offered to stay, so Soda gave them some things to do; clean up the aftermath of their poker game, get the first aid kit ready, warm Darry up some leftovers in case he was hungry, and that seemed to be enough for the kid. Maybe he felt like he could be more help there, or maybe he just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing his big brother bleeding out in a parking lot. Soda could understand the feeling.

But before they could get out the door, Ponyboy grabbed his hand. Soda turned to find his little brother studying him with those big eyes of his, and for a moment, he reminded him so much of Darry his heart ached. “Soda…” he started, but couldn’t seem to finish.

Soda ruffled his hair. “I know Pone, we’ll bring him back, okay?”

“Hey kid, we’ll be fine, you’re brother’s got ol’ Two-Bit here with him, and those Socs know better than to mess with a hard hitter like me.”

Pony gave him a weak smile. But Soda knew what they were all thinking. If they’d gone after Darry, then were any of them really safe?

“We’ll be back soon, savvy?”

Pony nodded and gave him one final hug before they walked out the door.

In the end, they took Two-Bit’s car. It was a beat-up piece of junk, and Soda was pretty sure he was risking his life just by standing next to the thing, but it was the only mode of transportation they had without Darry’s truck.

“You alright man? You got that thousand yard stare going on that your little brother is so fond of.”

Soda came to himself, nodding. “Just thinking, I guess.”

Two-Bit laughed, but it sounded off. “That’s never good, certainly not in the middle of the night.”

Soda drummed his fingers against the handle of the car door. “He sounded bad, man.”

Two-Bit shot him a worried glance. “Darry’s gonna be fine, Soda. We don’t call him Superman for nothing, you know. The guy’s built like a house and spends twelve hours a day lugging roofing up and down a ladder. You think those Socs with their manicured nails and their sweater vest are gonna do him much harm? Probably wouldn’t have even called you if they hadn’t slashed his tires.”

But Soda couldn’t stop playing Darry’s last words in his head. Leave. Pony. At home.

“It’s just Darry’s all we got left. You know?”

His mind kept flooding him with images of the night their parents died. Darry’s birthday. The smell of cake baking in the oven. Presents never opened. The knock on the door, the way Darry’s smile faded when he saw the cops on the other side. Pony’s scream when they broke the news. Nausea that consumed him, leaving him throwing up in the bathroom for so long he didn't think he'd ever stop. Darry's hand on his back as he whispered gentle words in his ear and soothed his weary heart.

“He’s gotta be okay, Two-Bit. I don’t know if we’ll make it if he’s not. I’ve been so wrapped up worrying about Ponyboy this whole time I’d forgotten to worry about Darry too, you know?”

“Hey now, you know Darry. He wouldn’t want you two worrying about him anyways. He’d tell you that’s his job.”

“But then whose job is it to look out for him?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Two-Bit reached over and squeezed Soda’s shoulder, the touch was grounding, and when he looked over, he was shocked to see how glassy his friend’s eyes were.

“Ain’t none of us gonna let something happen to your brother, Soda. It might take the whole damn neighborhood, seeing as he’s Superman and all, and us mere mortals are no match, but he’s got all of us watching out for him, you all do. You hear me?”

It was easy to forget, sometimes, behind Two-Bit's quick wit and easy laugh how deep his love ran. Soda reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder.

“I hear you, man, I hear you.”

They found his truck behind the bar with the tires slashed and the windows busted. But there was no sign of Darry.

“He’s gotta hate they did this to Dad’s truck,” Soda said because that truck was sacred to his brother. Like he wanted to keep it as clean as the day he got it, in case their dad came back to take it over again.

Two-Bit only nodded. “Come on, I don’t see him around here, let’s look around.”

If he’s even still alive, some horrible part of his brain whispered. But he shut the thought down.

“Hey man, I’ve got blood over here,” Two-Bit called.

Soda ran over, and sure enough, there was a trail heading back towards the bar. Soda could just make out a phone booth in the hazy gaze cast by the street lamp. Soda sprinted towards it, Two-Bit just a step behind, and then suddenly he wasn’t.

He heard Two-Bit cry out and turned to find him sprawled out on the cement, pulling his hands close as he rubbed the scrapes on his palms.

“You alright?” Soda said, offering him a hand up.

“Two-Bit nodded, “Yeah, I tripped over a rock or something.”

Soda looked back and his heart stopped.

It wasn’t a rock. It was a shoe. Darry’s shoe. Their dad’s shoe. The one with the worn out sole and the scuff marks on the toes. The one Darry only wore on special occasions when he wanted their dad to feel close.

And there it lay, abandoned in the parking lot.

Soda picked it up, holding it in his trembling hand.

“Darry!” He screamed. He wanted to run, but which way should he go? His brother could be anywhere, he could have gotten confused and wandered off, they could have come back for him, they could have done anything to him.

And then he heard a low groan to his left.

“Darry!” Soda hollered again, tearing off in that direction.

He was lying in the bottom of the phone booth, legs splayed through the door and phone swaying next to his head. The nice shirt Soda knew cost him a week's worth of overtime was ripped to shreds and covered in blood.

“No,” Soda choked out, running towards his brother. He was beaten to hell, cut and bruised in so many ways Soda was afraid to touch him. But he could just make out the rise and fall of his chest.

“Darry, come on buddy, you gotta wake up for me.”

Two-Bit came up beside him. “Is he—”

“He’s still breathing, pretty out of it though.”

Darry groaned, eyes opening like slits, then suddenly, with what little strength he had left, he started pushing Soda away.

“What— Darry, calm down.”

“Paul. Stop. Please.”

Paul. He’d been Darry’s friend, once upon a time, might have even been one of the guys Darry was meeting for drinks; he couldn’t remember.

Darry continued his weak cries and Paul’s name rattled around the summer night, and Soda realized with a bone chilling clarity why his brother hadn't won. Because he wasn't jumped by some random band of Socs out on the prowl looking to start trouble. It was the guys his brother had played football alongside since he was twelve years old. The guys he'd gone to summer camps with, and their first high school parties. The guys Darry had invited on camping trips, and gone to their sleepovers. It was the guys he was supposed to meet tonight.

It was his former teammates, his friends, who'd trashed his car and left him for dead.

Darry pushed him again with a little more force this time and brought Soda back to the present.

“Come on Dar, it’s just me, Soda, yeah? And Two-Bit here to help me out.”

“The kid decided he better bring me to liven this party up, you know?” Two-Bit said, voice shaking. He put a hand against Darry’s head and his brother flinched. Blinking again, his eyes opened a bit wider.

“Soda?” He asked, his voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel. Who knows, maybe he had.

“Yeah man, it’s me. You’re alright now, buddy. We’re gonna get you some help, alright?”

Two-Bit leaned in. “Think we can make it to my car? Don’t have to worry about an ambulance then.”

Darry’s eyes widened at the word, and he began struggling against them again.

“Woah, Dar, calm down.”

“No. Hospitals,” He wheezed out.

If he wasn’t so beat up already Soda might have smacked him. “Dar, you can’t be this stupid. There’s no way we can take you back to the house.”

But Darry shook his head. “No. Money. Soda. Please.”

And what was Soda supposed to do with that? His brother, beaten within an inch of his life, begging to keep him out of the hospital. His big brother who should be off at college worrying about passing his English class, not lying behind a bar bleeding out.

“I don’t know if we can take care of you, Darry. You’re hurt real bad,” Two-Bit said, voice soft.

Soda nodded. “We’ve got savings, don’t we? It’s gotta be enough.” His voice was near pleading now, but he no longer cared, he’d do anything to get that sad look off his brother’s face.

Darry shook his head, then paused, clearly dizzy from the motion. “Pony’s. Track meet.”

“What’s that got to do with— oh.”

And then Soda remembered, the big state meet last month, Pony had traveled out of town for it. Darry had been thrilled the kid had made it, told everyone he knew about his little brother, the track star, had even hung up Pony’s second place trophy when he got home, but it’d been an expensive trip. Took nearly all the cash he had built up from the past year.

Soda swallowed, “Darry, please don’t make me do this,” He whispered, his eyes burned with the tears he knew were seconds away from falling.

Darry smiled, a gruesome sight, teeth blacked with blood. “I’ll be. Okay. Little brother. Superman. Right?” Soda could tell each word was more painful than the last, and his heart shattered right there in that phone booth.

Because even beaten up and broken down, Darry was still trying to protect him. Ease his pain, take away the ache in his chest. Why’d his brother have to grow up so fast? Why’d he have to feel like it was his job to protect the world?

Soda laid a hand against Darry’s cheek, sticky with blood and tears. He felt his brother lean into him. Soda closed his eyes, took a breath, and pretended, for just a moment, that they’d be okay.

Soda opened his eyes and nodded. “Two-Bit, think we can get him to your car?”

Their friend had been watching them, running a shaking hand through his hair, but when he looked up at Soda there was a determination in his face Soda had never seen from him. Two-Bit was pissed, and Soda couldn’t help but pity whoever got in his way.

“Let’s get our boy home.”

Chapter Text

They made it back just as the sun was starting to rise. 

When they opened the door they found Pony sitting in Darry’s recliner right next to the telephone, the very spot their brother had spent countless hours in, worrying the night away while Pony ran around town. Soda might have laughed at the irony if it didn’t make his heart ache.

When Pony saw them he bolted out of the chair, eyes wide as he took in the sight of his brother. “Darry,” he said, voice weary and heartsore.

Steve came over and helped Soda and Two-Bit get Darry to the couch, he’d passed out again somewhere along the way. His head rolled like a rag doll when they laid him down.

“Shouldn’t you guys have taken him to the hospital?” Steve said. Soda glanced up and saw the flash of panic in his friend's eyes, only to be buried a heartbeat later. There was no room for fear in Steve’s world, you could end up dead that way.

Soda shook his head, “He said he didn’t want to go.”

Steve gave him one of his quick, sharp looks that made Soda feel dumber than a box of rocks. “To hell what he wants. I mean have you looked at him? He’s half dead.”

Soda pressed his hand against Darry’s forehead and felt warmth pulsing from his skin. Was he catching a fever? Do they come on that fast? “Yeah and what do you think's gonna happen then, huh? In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t got the money for a hospital stay.”

“It’s a hospital, they gotta have some way you can pay it off later or something.”

Pony handed Soda a cool wash cloth, and he brushed it across Darry’s brow. The cut just above his eyebrow reopened and blood spilled out, red like the Kool-aid they drank as kids.

“Are we looking at the same guy here? You honestly think Darry’s gonna be out roofing anytime soon? If we can’t pay it off now we sure as hell won’t be able to pay it off without Darry bringing in any money,” Soda said.

Steve ran his hand through his hair, it shook the whole time. He looked to Two-Bit and Ponyboy for allies, but they offered him none. Two-Bit had just had a front row seat to Darry’s desperation, and Pony would always choose Soda’s side. He turned his gaze back towards Soda. “What about you, huh? You work, don’t you?”

Anger swelled in Soda’s chest because Steve knew the kind of money they made, he worked right alongside him at the station. His paycheck hardly made a dent in their bills. Soda wasn’t even sure how he was going to keep the lights on, forget keep the house. “Yeah, sure, Steve. Because I’m really rolling in the dough down at the DX station.”

“Pick up some extra shifts then!” Steve’s voice was loud and felt like a clap of thunder in the middle of the night. Soda felt electricity coursing through every one of his nerves.

“It won’t be enough!” Soda yelled back. Pony laid a hand on his shoulder, his touch cool in the summer heat. Soda took a breath, fighting to regain his composure. 

Steve gave him that sharp look again. “If roles were reversed, you know Darry would do anything to get you to the hospital and keep you alive.”

He flinched as if he’d been hit. Because what could he say? He’d been telling himself the same thing the whole drive home, every time he leaned his head against his brother's chest just to make sure there was still a heartbeat. But even still, it wasn’t Steve’s place to make that call.

“Don’t you get it? We could lose the house, or the state could think Darry isn’t fit to be our guardian and me and Pony would get shipped off to a boys home somewhere. And you know what? He’d still be drowning in debt by the time he got outta there. It could ruin his life, Steve.”

“Yeah but at least he’d still have a life to ruin,” Steve said, voice scathing.

Ponyboy’s fingers tightened on Soda’s shoulder, and he turned towards his younger brother for the first time. There was terror etched across his face, eyes filling with tears then spilling out along his cheeks. He couldn’t stop staring at Darry, yet couldn’t seem to take a step closer.

Soda reached behind and wrapped his arms around Pony’s shoulders. “He’s gonna be alright, Pone.”

“Soda, he looks…”

“I know, kid,” Soda said.

Because he was right, it was so much worse here in the comfort of their home than it had been when they had nothing more than the dingy street light to see by. No part of him was untouched, his body like a canvas, painted with purples and reds, his skin split where switchblades had danced across his skin. 

What made his heart ache the most however was his neck covered in purple bruises, the ghost of fingers that pressed too tight. They’d choked him, robbed him of air, and taunted him with just how easily they could have killed him. Just a little more pressure, and he’d be dead in the parking lot.

How many of them were there? How many Socs came out just to take down the great Darrel Curtis?

“Pony, where’s the first-aid kit?” Two-Bit asked, pulling his brother away. Soda was thankful for his friend’s distraction but hated losing the anchor of his brother’s touch.

“Bathroom, under the sink.”

Someone handed Soda the kit, and he opened it with shaking hands. This was always Darry’s job, stitching the gang up after a rumble. Or cleaning up someone’s scrapes before their parents came home. How were they supposed to put Superman back together?

Pony reached out and brushed his hand against Darry’s shoulder, and suddenly, Darry’s eyes shot open, a wild look in them, and he screamed.

Everyone in the room flinched back as Darry struggled to sit up, trying to push away from Ponyboy, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Stop, Paul, please! You don’t have to do this man,” Darry said, no begged, a fear in his voice that nearly shattered Soda.

Soda bent down in front of Darry, trying to catch his eye. He didn’t want to touch him, worried it would only scare him more.“Darry, man, it’s us. You’re safe! We’re home, alright? And we’re gonna get you cleaned up now. That sound good?”

Darry turned towards him, his eyes were unfocused, like he was seeing something else. “Dad?” He said voice barely above a whisper, and all the air seemed to get sucked out of the room.

Soda swallowed hard, and as gently as he could, rested a hand on Darry’s shoulder. His brother winced, but barely. “You’re alright now, just get some rest, Dar. We’ll get you fixed right as rain.” He knew the words by heart, his dad had said them over thousands of bruised knees and skinned elbows. 

It was all Darry needed to hear, he settled back down again, and Soda watched him for a moment, the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

“All right boys, let’s get my brother fixed back up again.”

The phone rang not long after they got Darry as cleaned up as they could. Soda was afraid to look away, as if under his watchful gaze nothing else could harm his brother, so he just let the phone ring.

A minute later, it rang again. 

Soda sighed and stood up slow, his body sore and joints stiff.

“Yeah?”

“Darrel, that you?”

Soda blinked. “He can’t come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

“Yeah, this is Mr. Cooper, his boss, from down at the construction site. Darrel was supposed to be at work an hour ago, any clue where he is?”

“Work?” Soda said as if it was a foreign word. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and cursed, he hadn’t even thought about Darry’s shift today. Or his own for that matter.

“Yeah, I’m not sure if Darry’s gonna be making it in.”

Soda could hear the man shift on the other side of the phone. “He sick or something?”

“Or something,” was all Soda could think to say.

“You tell ‘em not to worry about it. The kid hasn’t missed a day in the past year, must be pretty bad off, I had to send him home last time he caught something. Didn’t need him hacking up a lung on one of our roofs.” Mr. Cooper laughed like he was letting Soda in on one of his jokes, but the words just rolled around in Soda’s head.

“Right…” Soda’s tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth.

The man on the other end got quiet for a moment, and Soda prayed that the conversation was over. But why should their luck change now? “Something else the matter kid? You’re sounding pretty dodgy.”

Soda's heart pounded. He didn’t even like calling out of work for his own job, and he knew his boss. How was he supposed to tell this guy “By the way, I have no clue when my brother’s going to be able to walk again, much less lug roofing up a ladder” without getting him fired?

“It’s just, he’s not doing so hot right now, sir. I’m not sure when he’s going to be able to make it in is all.”

There was a sigh, and fear crept into Soda’s chest. Darry was going to skin him alive if he cost him this job.

“Which one are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sodapop or Ponyboy, who am I talking to?”

“Oh, this is Soda.”

“Right, I figured.”

“You did?”

“Well yeah, you’re the oldest right?”

Soda found himself wondering just how much Darry talked about them at work. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“What happened kid?”

Soda paused, scrambling. They hadn’t come up with a cover story yet, and he had no clue how they were going to be able to hide this from Darry’s boss anyway.

“No-nothing. Like I said, he’s just sick is all. Nasty flu.”

“… In the middle of the summer?”

“Hey, summer flu happens more often than you think.”

The man lowered his voice, a kindness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Sodapop, I’m not trying to get your brother in trouble, alright? I just need to know what’s going on to see if I can help.”

Soda didn’t dare believe what this man was saying, there had to be a catch. “Why do you care?”

“Darry’s a good kid, hard worker, and I knew your father pretty good before he died. I’m just trying to look out for him is all, I swear. No funny business.”

Soda sighed, rubbing his hand against his forehead, head pounding in beat with his heart. What would Darry do? Probably keep his mouth shut and handle it himself, Darry was good at that.

He glanced over at his brothers, Pony holding vigil at Darry’s side, the subtle rise and fall of Darry’s chest. He shook his head.

Darry couldn’t make the call, so Soda was just going to have to go with his gut. And right now? He felt desperately over his head.

“He got jumped. It’s, well, it’s not good. Like I said, might be a while before he can be back at work.” Soda tagged on at the end. Fear gripped his chest. He hadn’t been lying to Steve before, he wasn’t sure how they were going to make it without Darry’s paycheck.

“And the fact you’re answering this phone right now tells me you didn’t take him to the hospital, am I right?”

“Well, not exactly, he wouldn’t let us.”

Mr. Cooper’s voice hardened again. “You always take advice from a guy with a concussion?”

“When that guy’s Darrel Curtis, sure,” Soda mumbled, and he was surprised when the man laughed.

“What’s your address kid?”

“My what?”

“Address, you hard of hearing or something?”

Soda rattled off the number without even thinking, his mind running on autopilot. “Why do you need it?”

“I know a guy that might be able to help out, make sure the kid ain’t gonna bleed out or nothing. We’ll be there in an hour, alright?”

“Okay, sure I guess,” Soda said, but the man had already hung up. Soda stared at it for another moment, wondering what exactly he’d just agreed to.

When the knock came Soda pealed himself up out of the recliner and stepped over Two-Bit who’d fallen asleep on the floor. 

He opened the door to find two men standing on the other side, about twenty years older than Darry. They had matching grim expressions.

“Where is he?” The one in the front asked, Soda recognized his voice as Mr. Cooper.

Soda nodded in Darry’s direction, “On the couch over there.”

Mr. Coopers’s stern face crumbled when he caught sight of Darry. “Damn kid, what’d you get yourself into?”

The other man frowned,” I’m not sure how comfortable I feel about this, Jeff. This kid really needs a hospital.”

“Come on Andy, look around you, you honestly think these kids can afford something like that?”

“Hey, we get by,” Soda said, not sure why the sudden surge of pride reared its head when he’d just told the man the same thing himself not even an hour ago.

“Sorry kid, no offense.” Mr. Cooper glanced back at him before continuing. “If it looks too bad, I’ll take him myself, but can’t you at least look him over?”

The man—Andy— sighed, and that’s when Soda noticed the bag in his hand.

“You a doc or something?” Steve asked. Soda didn’t miss the way he blocked the path toward his brother. He glanced at Soda for a brief second and nodded. No matter how angry he’d been earlier, he’d back Soda’s call. Soda nodded back, relief settling in his chest.

It was Mr. Cooper that answered. “Yeah, and a damn good one at that. He’ll be able to fix the kid up real good.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here, I said I’d check him out, but you didn’t tell me he was this bad.”

Andy pushed past Steve and edged closer to his brother, but Pony, who’d remained silent up until now, tightened his grip on Darry and shot a glare toward the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Andy looked at Pony with a sour expression. “Trying to help your brother, against my better judgment, might I add,” he said, casting a look back at Mr. Cooper. 

Pony’s expression hardened. “If you’re gonna be a dick about it, then you can just leave.”

“Pony!” Soda warned, but he couldn’t say he disagreed.

“Now listen here—,” Andy started, but Pony cut him off.

“No, you listen. My brother’s been beat up pretty bad. He’s scared, and confused, and hardly knows if he’s coming or goin’. He don’t need some jerk doctor coming in here and freaking him out anymore than he already is."

Andy sighed, deflating slightly. “He might need more care than you guys can give him, maybe even more than I can give him. I’m just trying to make sure you all understand that.”

Pony steadied him with a look so scathing the doctor took a step back. “We’ve handled ourselves just fine this long, we don’t need some good for nothing doctor coming in and acting like he knows better than the rest of us. ‘Cause you don’t, not about him.”

For the first time, it occurred to Soda that it wasn’t all that long ago that Pony was the one getting jumped. His heart ached for his little brother; he knew better than anyone else in this room what Darry was going through.

Andy seemed to deflate just slightly. “What’s your name kid?”

“Ponyboy.” He said, and Soda was proud of the way he held the man’s gaze.

“Okay Ponyboy, you’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m a little bit out of my element here, and a lot mad at my friend over there for not thinking this through.” He shot an annoyed glance towards Mr. Cooper, who just smiled back. “But I swear I won’t do anything to hurt your brother, okay? We’ll get him patched up, and make sure he’s right as rain soon, okay?”

Pony flinched at the phrase, the one their dad always used, but it seemed to mollify him. “I’m not letting go,” He said, voice strong.

Andy’s expression softened. “Alright then, you can help me do the exam.”

Pony glanced over towards Soda, searching his face for something, before nodding. Andy relaxed and began to pull out his things.

Soda turned to their other guest, he figured he owed the guy that much. “You really didn’t have to do all this, you know, we would have taken care of him.”

Mr. Cooper smiled, in that way adults sometimes did when they thought they knew more. “I know. I don’t doubt that for a second. But that brother of yours is a good kid. Keeps his head down, does his work, and don’t complain.” He turned his gaze towards Darry for a moment, a sad look in his eyes, and said in a soft voice. “He’s one of those guys you keep thinking deserves a break, you know? And the universe just seems hell bent on giving him more trouble.”

Mr. Cooper looked like he wanted to say more when the doctor snapped his bag shut. “I’d really be more comfortable making this call if I could get an X-ray,” he mumbled as he stood up.

“Yeah, well unless you got one of those fancy machines in that bag of yours I think we’re out of luck, so might as well just give it to us straight doc,” Two-Bit said.

Andy nodded. “Right, I stitched up the worst of the cuts, and one of his ankles looks like it’s got a slight sprain. The good news is his ribs looked bruised, not broken, but keep an eye on them. If he has any trouble breathing I want you guys to get him to the hospital, I don’t care how much it costs. I’d rather him be in debt than dead, you understand?”

They nodded, and Soda found the courage to ask about the thing that worried him most. “What about his neck, is it alright?”

The doctor glanced down and sighed. “Physically speaking, yes. That’ll give him more psychological damage than anything else.”

There was silence in the room as all eyes turned to Darry. He looked better now, but the bruises stood out stark against his pale skin.

Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and a bottle of pills, handing them over to Soda. “Give these to him every couple of hours for the pain, and if it looks like there’s any sign of a fever, call me, alright? Some of those cuts were pretty dirty. I’ll swing back by tomorrow and see how he’s doing.”

“You don’t have to do that, doc. We can handle it from here.”

There was something sad in Andy’s eyes as he looked at Soda, something uncomfortably close to pity. “I know that, but humor me, okay? I’d kick myself if this kid died on your couch when I should have made him go to the hospital.”

Soda nodded, unsure of what else to say, and shut the door behind them with a quiet click of the latch.

Darry started screaming an hour later.

All the boys in the room nearly jumped out of their skin, but it was Soda that got to him first.

“Come on Darry, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

But it was like Darry couldn’t even hear him, he just kept rambling. “Stop, please. I’ve gotta look out for my brothers, man. They don’t got anyone else. Please.”

“Shit,” Two-Bit muttered, and Soda heard Steve slam a fist against the wall, but he only had eyes for his brother.

“Dar! It’s me, Soda. And Pony’s right here with me. You gotta wake up buddy, it’s just a nightmare.”

Pony reached up and grabbed his arm. “It ain’t nothing, Dar, just like you always tell me. Just a dumb ol’ dream.”

It took a minute for his brother’s eyes to focus, they spun around the room wildly, and something twisted in Soda’s chest. Finally, Darry’s eyes seemed to settle on him.

“Soda?” He asked, voice ragged, but better than before.

Soda let out his first real smile since Darry left last night. “Yeah, it’s me, you gave us all a scare, man.”

Darry blinked at him, trying to process what he said. Soda let him take his time. Eventually, he rasped out a quiet, “Sorry.”

Soda carded his hand through his brother’s hair. “Hey, don’t sweat it, as much worrying as you do about the rest of us, you were due for a turn.”

Darry swallowed, then winced. “Water?”

“Coming right up, Superman,” Two-Bit said, practically sprinting to the kitchen.

Darry blinked at him, seeming to realize for the first time they weren’t alone.

“Think you can help me up?”

It was slow and painful, but eventually, they pulled Darry up so he could drink some of the water. He seemed better now, more human at least, but every move he made seemed to be littered with pain.

“What happened, Dar?” Pony asked.

Darry sighed. Irritation pulled at his brow. “Got jumped, figured that much was obvious.”

“This ain’t no normal jumping, Superman. I thought you were supposed to be the brains of the bunch.” Steve scoffed, rubbing one hand with the other. Soda glanced around the room, but miracle of miracles, he didn’t see a hole in the drywall. 

Darry turned his head away so they couldn’t see his expression. “What can I say, they caught me off guard is all.”

“Musta been a lot of them,” Two-Bit said.

Darry nodded his head just a fraction. “Six.”

“Six?” Two-Bit said, incredulous. “What, they needed half the class of ’65 to take you down?”

Darry just shrugged, then winced in pain. “Guess so.”

Soda watched the conversation unfold, trying to decide how best to broach the topic with his brother. He figured attacking it head on might be the best way. If nothing else, it would catch Darry off guard.

“You’re friends were there, right? I’m surprised they didn’t help.”

Darry’s head swiveled back towards him, his body tense like a bowstring.

“Happened after they left,” he said, words sharp.

“Really, that’s funny, because you mentioned Paul a couple of times, I thought you were supposed to meet him there last night.”

Darry’s eyes narrowed, his breath ragged. “No, as far as I knew he wasn’t coming or else I never would have agreed to meet up. I hadn’t seen him since the rumble.”

The rumble. Soda had forgotten all about that. But he could picture it clear as day. The fury in Paul’s eyes as he stepped up to face Darry. The smirk playing on his lips.

“But he was there last night,” Soda said, voice gentle.

Darry stared at him a moment longer, then the tension leaked out of him as quickly as it came. He didn’t have the energy to stay angry. “Yeah, he was,” his voice was weary, defeated.

Silence enveloped the room as they waited for him to continue, but he seemed unable or unwilling, Soda wasn’t sure which.

“I don’t get it, you guys were friends, right?” Pony said.

Darry sighed. His lip had split back open again, blood beading up like a pearl. “Paul was mad about the rumble, don’t think he liked much that they lost.”

“Yeah, the guy was the first one to run after you whooped his ass. Knew he was a loser then,” Two-Bit said.

“I guess,” Darry said, getting a faraway look in his eye. And Soda couldn’t help but feel sorry for his brother, because Paul and Darry had been good friends once, about as close as a Soc and a Greaser could get. The two did a lot together when they were on the football team, even talked of rooming together at college once upon a time. What changed between them to make Paul hate him so much?

But Soda wasn’t done, not yet anyway. He knew he had to ask the question that had been rattling around in his head since he found Darry in that phone booth, the one he was almost afraid to know the answer to.

“The other guys who jumped you? It was your friends, right? The guys you were supposed to meet up with.” Soda asked as gentle as he could.

His silence was answer enough.

“Darry—” Ponyboy started.

But their brother cleared his throat, pivoting before they could get too close to the ache in his chest. “You guys did a real good job of patching me up. I didn’t know you boys had such a soft touch.”

Soda let the conversation shift, but he knew Darry would have to talk about it eventually, just maybe not in front of the whole gang. “Actually, you can thank Mr. Cooper for that.”

Darry eyes went wide. “Mr. Cooper? My boss? From work? How the hell did he get involved?”

“He called when you didn’t show up, and twisted my arm until I told him what happened. Brought a doctor friend over  to check on you, probably what kept you out of the hospital.” Probably what kept you alive hung in the air unspoken.

Darry’s expression clouded. “You shouldn’t have told him, I would have been fine.”

“No, you would have bled out on this couch by now and left Pony and Soda to fend for themselves,” Steve said. Soda wanted to reach out and squeeze his friend's shoulder, but Steve would have hated that. “Cut us a break, man. It was a tough night.”

Darry practically shrunk back into the couch, something he didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother do. It was odd, to see the usually impenetrable Darrel Curtis so uncertain.

“Right, sorry. Thanks for looking out.”

Soda just smiled at him. “It’s alright, I wouldn’t want you getting my boss involved either. Just get some rest, Dar. Doctor’s orders. We can figure the rest out later.”

Darry nodded at him, and it was a testament to how awful he felt that he didn’t fight him on the matter.

“Thanks, little buddy,” He said, offering them a tired smile.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Chapter Text

Soda woke up to a hand striking him in the face.

He groaned and rolled over, blindly reaching out for Ponyboy.

“Hey, Pone,” He mumbled trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his brain, “It’s a nightmare, buddy. You gotta wake up.”

Soda shook his brother’s arm and heard him gasp. It was a dance they’d done nearly every night since their parents had died. The nightmares had just started easing off a few months ago, and Soda thought they might finally be able to make it through a full night uninterrupted, but then Johnny and Dally died, and the nightmares crept back into their nightly ritual.

“You with me now?”

There was a long pause as Pony caught his breath, pulling himself back into the real world, then, finally a sigh. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

Soda settled back down on the pillows. It would have been so easy for him to burrow under the covers and drift back to sleep, but he couldn’t do that, not until he made sure his brother was okay.

“You alright, little buddy? It musta been a bad one.”

The pause was longer this time. Soda closed his eyes and waited. He could hear the cicadas humming outside their opened window. “It was about Darry.”

Soda’s heart clenched. He didn’t know why he was shocked, he shouldn’t have been. It’d only been two days since their brother got jumped. Pony had been nightmare free the night before, but Soda figured that was because the three of them had camped out in the living room. Darry too sore to move, and Soda and Pony too afraid of leaving him alone.

It’d been nice, in a strange way. It reminded Soda of when they were kids and their mom would let them build forts out of blankets and couch cushions to burrow under whenever a bad storm rolled in. Soda never told him, but he always felt safer amidst the claps of thunder and streaks of lightning with his big brother around.

But Darry seemed determined to get his life back to normal, and that meant sleeping in his own room again. 

“There’s no sense in you guys sleeping on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bedroom right there,” Darry said, limping around the living room to pick up their blankets. Soda cringed the whole time he watched his brother walk. He really should have been using the crutches Andy had brought over earlier that day, but Darry had practically locked them in his closet as soon as the doctor left.

“We don’t mind Darry, honest. It’s kinda like having a sleepover. We can stay up late and watch Johnny Carson. When’s the last time you did that?”

Darry scoffed. “Yeah because the thing missing from my life right now is late night television.”

Soda rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache blossoming behind his eyes. “We just want to make sure you’re alright, Dar.”

Darry turned towards him for the first time and must have seen something in his expression that worried him. He gave Soda’s shoulder a soft squeeze and his tone turned gentle. “I appreciate it little buddy, honest. But I don’t need my little brothers up all night because they gotta babysit me. You need sleep, real sleep, so just quit your worrying. I’ll be fine.”

But if anything he’d slept worse. The night was oppressively warm, and not even the opened window offered them a breeze. He felt suffocated by the stagnant air, tossing and turning for hours, trying desperately to get comfortable, and to perhaps get the image of Darry bleeding out in the bottom of the phone booth out of his mind.

He’d only just managed to drift off when Pony smacked him back into consciousness.

“You want to tell me what the dream was about?”

He felt Pony lean his head on his shoulder. “Do I have to?”

“‘Course not, but it might help.”

The full moon was out, casting a beam of light across Pony’s face. Even in the darkness, Soda could see how tired his brother was, how dull his eyes looked. There’d been a spark there, not that long ago. When had his brother lost that? When their parents died? Johnny and Dally? Soda put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

Pony sighed. “It wasn’t all that different from what really happened, it’s just, he woke up screaming again, and he got this awful look in his eye like, like he’s real scared, you know? He kept clawing at his throat like he couldn’t breathe. And we tried to help him, but we knew there was nothing we could do, so we just stood there and watched him…”

Die. The word hung in the air between them, something neither of them could say, as if speaking it aloud might make it a reality.

Soda carded his hand through Pony’s hair. “He’s alright now kid, you heard the doc this morning, Andy said he was coming along fine.”

“No, I know, that’s not what’s really bugging me,” Soda waited, you had to do that with Pony sometimes. It was like he had so many big ideas in that head of his it took him a while to sort them all out. 

When Pony finally spoke again Soda had to strain to hear him.“I’ve just been so mad at him, you know?”

“Since he got jumped?” Soda could understand why if he had. Their brother wasn’t exactly making an easy patient.

He felt Pony shake his head. “No, I mean, before that. Like when we were playing poker with the guys and didn’t know he was hurt, all I could think about was how unfair it was that Darry got to stay out all night. I should’ve realized that wasn’t like him. I mean, how stupid was that?”

Soda huffed out a laugh. “That’s not stupid kid, that’s human nature. Why on earth would you assume that Darry got jumped? We call him Superman for a reason right? You couldn’t have known.”

Pony was quiet for a long time, so long that Soda thought he might have drifted back to sleep, then he felt his weight shift.

“I blamed him for everything.” Pony spoke the words with a tenderness as if they’d rolled around his head for days while he thought them over, chewing on their weight. They were the kind of words one only ever spoke during the middle of the night when honesty could be softened by the cloak of darkness.

“Everything?” Soda asked, not quite sure he followed.

Ponyboy hesitated for a moment, as if measuring out every word and what they would cost. “I blamed him for Johnny and Dally.”

The words ripped through Soda, and he felt like every one of his fears for his brothers was being realized. Because what did he say? How did he explain to a boy who’d had everything taken from him how sorry his brother was? How he’d cried the night he’d slapped Ponyboy when he thought Soda wasn’t around to see, how he’d waited by the phone for hours, only to be woken up the next morning with the police banging on the door.

Did he tell him how Darry locked himself in the bathroom and threw up after the officers left, or how Soda could hardly get him to eat? Did he tell him how every second he wasn’t holding vigil at Pony’s side when he was sick, he was talking to lawyers, terrified that he’d gotten Pony shipped off to a boys home? Did he tell him Darry didn’t take his first real breath again until the trial finished? Did he tell him that Pony didn’t need to blame Darry because he already blamed himself enough for the both of them?

Because despite all of this, Soda knew how Pony felt. He’d spent more nights than he could count comforting his little brother after he and Darry fought, reassuring him over and over that he loved him, and didn’t want to send him away, and that even though he didn’t always know how to express it didn’t change the fact that Darry loves him with a fierceness so great that it terrified him sometimes.

What could he say? What should he say? Soda was never very clever with words, at least not when they counted. 

“I know it’s wrong, but I was just so angry, I still am, I guess. But I couldn’t stop thinking that if Darry had just listened to me that night, if he hadn’t’ve gotten so mad and hit me then maybe they’d still be alive.”

Soda kept his own breathing steady, treading carefully over his words. “Pone, you can’t think that way. You can ‘what if’ a thing to death you know? What if those Socs hadn’t been drinking? What if Johnny hadn’t had a blade on him? What if you hadn’t fallen asleep in the lot? They happened that way for a reason. And asking yourself what we could have done different don’t do anything but leave you angry. And you’re too good for that, kid.”

But Pony was shaking his head again. “No, I know. That’s just it, I get it better, I think, since the other night. When I was sitting there waiting for you guys to show up, I thought I was going crazy. I just kept picturing Darry lying dead out there somewhere, and then the Socs jumping you as soon as you showed up. I’d never been scared for you guys like that before. And I kept thinking about all those nights I came home late, when Darry would start raising hell, and I realized he was just scared too.”

Soda nodded. “Yeah kid, I don’t think he’s stopped being scared since Mom and Dad died.”

“I guess I just don’t know what to do with all of it. I don’t know how to talk to him anymore.”

“Pone…”

“Not because I’m mad at him or anything, I don’t think I am. But it’s like we come at everything from two different worlds. Like sometimes I feel like I’m saying one thing and he’s hearing another.”

It was strange his brothers thought they were so different because most days Soda could only marvel at how similar they were. “Darry had to grow up fast kid.”

“So did we,” Pony’s voice had a hint of petulance to it that made Soda smile.

“That’s true, but it’s different for him,” And it was. They had all lost their parents too young, and their best friends, too. And Pony had to harden himself in ways that Soda wished he could soften.

But he also knew that Pony wouldn’t have to wonder how they were going to afford dinner every night, or keep the lights on, or go to work sick because he couldn’t afford to stay home.

He didn’t have to sit around and balance checkbooks, or spend his off day doing chores, or constantly worry about the state ripping their family apart.

He didn’t have to work a job he hated when he should have been doing so much more. Ponyboy still got to dream, and Darry had given up on that when the cops had knocked on the door a year ago.

But Darry didn’t want Pony to have to worry about those things, neither of them did. They wanted Pony to stay a kid as long as he could, otherwise, what was the point in all of this?

“I don’t want to fight with him anymore. Seeing him like that the other night… I love him, I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Soda let the words wash over him and allowed just a tiny sprig of hope to take root in his chest. Maybe something good could come out of all of this. Maybe, their family could finally heal.

“Just give it time, Pony, talk to him. And try not to come home late.”

Pony drifted back to sleep after that, but Soda couldn’t seem to do the same. The heat of the summer night pressed into the room. He was sweat soaked, the tangle of sheets scratched against his skin. Worse still were the images that seemed to be burned into the backs of his eyes; Darry’s shoe in the parking lot, a phone swaying above his brother’s limp form.

He threw the covers off and got up as quickly as he could without waking Pony. Milk, he thought, he needed a glass of milk to cool himself down, to rinse away the thoughts that he was unable to break free from.

He turned the corner and found Darry sitting at the kitchen table, sifting through a stack of envelopes. Soda glanced up at the clock, 2:45 a.m.

His brother ran a hand across his forehead, weariness had taken refuge in his body. His eyes, haunted and glazed over, blinked slowly, a fight every time to press them back open. The hand that held the envelopes shook as if their weight exhausted him.

“You ever plan on sleeping?” Soda asked, his voice light.

Darry flinched so hard that Soda wished he could snatch the words back. He looked around, eyes wild, before they settled on Soda. When their eyes finally locked, tension seemed to melt out of Darry’s body. He gave Soda a small smile.

“Gotta get some stuff done, never enough time in the day.”

Soda decided not to mention that there was plenty of time in Darry’s day right now, considering he hadn’t been at work.

“Whatcha looking at, maybe I can help?”

But Darry waved him off. “Just bills, mostly. I forgot to tell you. Mrs. Miller is coming by next Tuesday, so you and Ponyboy need to be around for her to ask you questions.”

Mrs. Miller was their social worker and had never been Soda’s favorite. She’d made her opinions of their living arrangement clear on more than one occasion, and she’d only gotten worse since Pony ran away. Soda knew that the only thing that had kept him out of a boys home last time was his doctor’s recommendation that he stay in a familiar environment, but that had been with the caveat that the court could circle back later if they felt it necessary, so all they could do was wait for the other shoe to drop.

Soda pulled out the milk from the fridge and drank it straight from the bottle. Darry must have been tired, because he gave his brother a look, but didn’t say anything.

Or maybe it was just guilt because the next thing out of Darry’s mouth made Soda see red.

“I’m planning on going back to work tomorrow.”

Soda nearly choked, milk going up his nose. When he turned, Darry wasn’t looking at him, but staring down intently at the envelopes in his hand shaking worse than before.

“Funny, I didn’t know you could climb a ladder with a sprained ankle.”

Darry sighed, “Soda…”

“Or lug roofing, for that matter. But you know, what do I know? I’m just some guy who works at the DX station.”

Darry finally looked up at him, annoyance clear in his gaze. Soda didn’t care though, he was annoyed too. “Will you shut up? Mr. Cooper wouldn’t let me up on the roofs even if I wanted to go, I’m just doing office work right now.”

Soda blinked, the fight fizzling out of him. “Oh,” he said, sitting down in the chair across from his brother.

Darry smirked. “Yeah, ‘oh.’ It’s a pay cut though, so I’m looking to see if there’s anything else I can do part-time to supplement the income.”

Soda furrowed his brow. “Are there less hours?”

“No, the work’s just less strenuous, doesn’t pay as much.”

“But when do you think you’re going to have time for a second job? You’re run ragged as is.”

Darry shrugged. “I should be able to find something. Since it’s less labor intensive I won’t be as tired at the end of the day, I’ll be fine to work longer.”

Soda wasn’t so sure. Most days Darry left before the sun was up and came home long after it set. Even if the office work was easier, Soda still didn’t think there were enough hours in the day for Darry to do all the things he thought he needed to get done.

But that wasn’t what worried him the most. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting better right now? Your body’s gotta heal, Dar. That’ll take it out of you.”

Darry put down the envelopes, pressing his fingers into his temples. He couldn’t quite meet Soda’s eyes. “Look, we’re not going to be able to get by otherwise, okay? The fact of the matter is, we were barely making ends meet before. We can’t afford for me to make less right now.”

But the answer, to Soda at least, seemed obvious. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Well, it’s simple, right? I can pick up extra shifts down at the station, or maybe I can find another job somewhere in town, someone’s gotta be hiring.”

But Darry was already shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that, little buddy.”

“Why not?”

Darry dragged his eyes up to look at Soda. He wasn’t sure what his brother was searching for, but Soda held his gaze, hoping he could find it there. “I never told you this before, because I didn’t want you to freak out.”

Soda offered him a smile his brother didn’t return. “I’m not five, Dar, I think I can handle it.”

He kept his tone light, but it didn’t seem to matter, Darry let out a bone weary sigh. “It’s just, well, when you dropped out to start working full time, the state really hated it. They wanted to split you boys up then. I almost lost custody.”

The words were ugly and sharp, Soda felt them cut at his core. “But you never said… That’s impossible, I would have known.”

Darry looked at him with such a tenderness he wanted to turn away. “I didn’t want you to know, little buddy. So much was going on, Mom and Dad had just died, and Pony was a mess, keeping you up at all hours with his nightmares, you didn’t need something else to worry about.”

Neither did you Soda wanted to say but didn’t. “I wanted to drop out anyways, that didn’t have anything to do with the bills. I hated school.”

And he did, he hated school more than anything. He wasn’t good at it like his brothers, words seemed to get mixed up in his head, and math problems became a jumble of numbers in his brain. Maybe he could have learned if he’d been given a chance. But teachers just treated him like the dirt off their shoes, even after their parents died. And he got to a point where he just couldn’t take being ridiculed anymore.

“I know that Soda, honest. I knew how unhappy you were, that’s why I never put up a fight. But Mrs. Miller wasn’t convinced. Think about it from their point of view, Mom and Dad had only been dead for three months, I’m barely keeping the lights on, and one of my kid brothers is already dropping out. It don’t exactly paint the picture of a stable home environment.”

Soda felt a spark of anger in his chest at Darry. How could he have kept this from him, when his decision could have cost them everything? But he snuffed it out as quickly as it came. His brother was just trying his best too, and he couldn’t fault him for that.

“I don’t even make that much,” Soda muttered, his voice bordering on whiny, but he didn’t care.

Darry laughed, and that at least, soothed something in Soda. “You do good enough, Pepsi. And it’s not so much of a problem now anyways. Work is steady, and they can see that all the bills get covered with my paycheck, but being able to pay for everything on my own has been a big point of contingency for me being able to keep custody, and I’m not planning on rocking the boat anytime soon.”

Soda leaned back in his chair, the weariness of his sleepless night starting to weigh on his shoulders. “But surely they’ve got to make exceptions for you being sick or something, just for this month until you get better.”

Darry shrugged, “Maybe. But It’s just not a risk I want to take.”

They sat in silence for a long time, the clock’s steady ticking reminding them how quickly the morning would come.

Soda studied Darry. The bruises, still stark, were just beginning to give way to yellows and greens along the edges, giving him a sickly pallor.

He had to ask, needed to ask for Darry’s sake, but he desperately didn’t want to. He just wanted to curl up and let sleep consume him, give him just a few hours where the nightmares from their lives didn’t haunt him, and he could dream of simpler times. Like camping trips with their parents, or riding their bikes down to the swimming hole on the other side of town, or playing football in the backyard when the first hint of fall began to cool off the summer air.

But he couldn’t do that, maybe it wasn’t possible for him anymore. And he knew Darry needed him to try, even if he would hate him for it.

So Soda took a deep breath, steadying himself for the hard words he’d have to say because he knew Darry, and sometimes, the only way to get him to talk was to tackle it head on. “You wanna tell me why you’re figuring all this out at three in the morning instead of the middle of the day like a normal person?”

Darry gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I thought that you wanted to sleep in your room tonight, not crash at the kitchen table.”

Darry’s expression clouded over, and he stood, limping over to the kitchen sink. There were still some glasses left over from the night before. He turned the water on to let it heat up.“There’s nothing to talk about Soda, just leave it.”

But Soda followed him to the sink, leaning against the counter. “Darry, you gotta talk about it at some point, it’s going to eat you up inside if you don’t.”

Darry pushed the stopper into the bottom of the sink and the warm water began to pool. “There’s nothing to say Soda. I got jumped, it happens at least once a month around here. I don’t see you making your brother give you the whole sob story every time.”

That’s because when he wakes up with nightmares he’s like an open book, Soda thought but didn’t say. Because that wasn’t the only problem here.

“But you weren’t just jumped, Dar, it was your friends.”

Darry grabbed the glass and threw it into the sink. Soda was surprised it didn’t shatter. “What do you want me to say, Soda? That I can’t sleep at night because every time I close my eyes I see them there? That I can feel their hands on my neck? That I almost threw up yesterday when Two-Bit came over and started drinking because he smelled like the alcohol on their breath? Do you honestly think it’s going to help anything if I tell you all of that?”

The words cut like knives, and Soda had to fight not to flinch. “If that’s how you’re feeling Darry, I do.” 

Darry didn’t say anything, just scrubbed the glass in his hand with more force than necessary. Soda walked over and placed his hand over his, stopping the motion, he could feel the soapy water fizzle out beneath his hands.

“Darry,” Soda said, voice tender.

His brother pulled in a large, desperate breath. “I can’t Soda, I can’t, okay? I’m not trying to be difficult here, but if I let it all out I don’t think I’ll ever stop, just please.”

It was the same desperate tone to his voice that he’d had in the phone booth, and Soda felt shattered. He wrapped his arms around his brother, and after a moment, he felt Darry drop the glass in the sink, reach up, and grab his brother’s wrist, water dripping down his arms.

“We’ll get through this, okay, Dar? You, me, and Pony are gonna make it through this together.”

Darry squeezed his arm a bit tighter and sighed, and Soda wondered if his brother actually believed him.

Chapter Text

Soda and Pony had until 5 o’clock to get through Darry’s impossibly long to-do list.

Darry had offered to stay up late the night before to help get a head start on things, but Soda managed to convince him that they could handle it. He was growing more worried about his brother by the day. The kaleidoscope of bruises across his skin had nothing on the dark circles under his eyes, nor the limp that seemed to be becoming more prominent with every step he took. 

He tried to talk to Darry about it, but his brother just made himself scarce around the house, muttering something about job interviews and overtime shifts. So Soda helped where he could, and right now, that was getting everything ready for the visit with their social worker.

Some things on the list were simple, like getting dinner started. They’d made enough meals since their parents died that they had their chicken and potatoes recipe down to a fine science, even if Pony wouldn’t let him dye any of the food purple (“Darry might actually have an aneurism right here in the kitchen, then we really would end up in a boys home.”)

But the cleaning was another thing entirely.  Some of it made sense, like picking up Two-Bit’s beer cans or cleaning out the ashtray. But a lot of the list consisted of cleaning things Soda was pretty sure Mrs. Miller wouldn’t even notice, like vacuuming the carpet in their bedroom, or wiping down the inside of the refrigerator, or dusting. Dusting! What sane person would pay attention to dust of all things Soda would never know.

But the most surprising thing was how little Pony grumbled about it. Soda always hated chores, he knew they needed to be done, especially today, but that wasn’t going to stop him from complaining. But Pony kept his head down and his mouth shut, speeding through Darry’s list with an efficiency Soda could only marvel at. 

Curiosity got the better of him, and while they were cleaning the windows in the kitchen, Soda said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually enjoying yourself.”

His younger brother just shrugged and said, “It’d be kinda nice to have the place real clean for once, right? Kinda like how Mom used to keep it.”

And damn if that didn’t stir something in Soda’s chest that made it impossible for him to argue.

But if nothing else, the cleaning kept him calm. He wasn’t sure if that had been Darry’s intention or not when he’d given him the comically long list (Sweeping the walkway, really? It’s outside for a reason. That had to be something he made up) but it kept his mind preoccupied throughout the day and kept both him and Ponyboy from dwelling too much on what was coming.

It’d be the first time they’d seen Mrs. Miller since the trial, and Soda had no idea what to expect. He’d be less nervous if Darry didn’t wince every time he took a step, but there was no hiding his brother’s state, and there was no telling how Mrs. Miller would respond.

Darry got home just in time to change into one of Dad’s old dress shirts, the cuffs of the sleeves worn, the collar a bit dingy, the fit not quite right. As he started buttoning up the front, he quizzed Soda on the list.

“The bedrooms, you cleaned them real good, right?”

“Why would she want to go into the bedrooms?”

“She always goes into the bedroom, Pepsi. What about the walkway?”

“… You weren’t joking? You honestly wanted me to sweep the walkway outside?”

“Why would I joke about something like that? It’s covered in leaves.”

“Like everything else is outside, on account of the fact it’s outside.”

“You can’t be— you know what? Never mind. Where’s the broom?”

“Dar, calm down, I’m joking. Ponyboy already did it.”

“Soda—”

“I’m serious! Scouts honor.”

“And the fridge? Did you get all the crumbs out? I know Steve made a mess of the chocolate cake last night.”

“I swear, Darry, it’s all up to the Curtis standard, It looks like Mom cleaned it herself. You gotta relax, man.”

“I am relaxed!”

The knock on the door halted any further conversation. Darry took a deep breath and turned to look at his brothers one last time. “Ready?” he asked.

“It’ll be fine Dar, nothing we haven’t dealt with before, right?” Soda said patting him on the shoulder. He was keeping up a brave front for his brothers, but inside he was terrified. He knew as well as they did how much depended on these visits going well, but if one of them didn’t play it cool he was worried they’d all fall apart.

Darry nodded, took a deep breath, then seemed to transform before their very eyes. He pulled himself up straighter, pushed his shoulders back, and plastered on that winning smile of his, the one that made all the teachers say, “That Darrel Curtis of yours is such a fine young man” to his parents when they picked him up from school. Soda used to hate it when they were kids, because it seemed like his brother always managed to scrape out of trouble, but it’d saved them more than once since their parents had died, so now he couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

Darry pulled the door open and said with his boy of the year smile, “Mrs. Miller, please come in.”

Mrs. Miller reminded him of every teacher he hated in school. She seemed impossibly old to Soda, hair pulled back in a tight bun and long skirt brushing the floor, but she couldn’t have been much older than their mom had been, a woman so full of life his memory of her practically glowed.

She nodded. “Darrel, Sodapop, Ponyboy, how lovely it is to see you boys again.”

“Likewise, ma’am, “ Darry said, offering her a chair, but she shook her head, eying Darry up and down, giving him a slight frown.

“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Darrel. Is everything alright?”

He nodded, his smile so easy Soda almost believed it. “Yes ma’am. Got into a car wreck a few days ago, unfortunately. Just a little banged up is all, but everyone turned out okay, so that’s all that matters.” Soda hadn’t seen this side of his brother in so long that he’d almost forgotten he existed. The Darry Curtis who talked their dad out of grounding him and Soda after missing curfew, or convinced their mom that failing his Spanish test wasn’t really that big of a deal because no one was passing Spanish anyway. There was something about his gentle voice kind eyes that made people want to trust him.

Mrs. Miller, however, wasn’t so easily fooled. She studied him for a long time, so long that Soda’s nerves started to feel frayed, but Darry held her gaze like it was nothing. “I noticed your truck wasn’t in the yard when I drove up. I was worried you had forgotten about our appointment.”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s at the shop right now, hoping we’ll get it back soon because all this carpooling to work’s been a pain, I gotta say.”

Luckily for them, Steve and Two-Bit had picked the car up the morning Darry got jumped. As far as Soda knew, it was at Two-Bit’s place until they could afford to get it fixed.

“Can I offer you anything, water, coffee?”

She shook her head. “I was actually hoping Sodapop here could give me a tour of the house.”

She did this sometimes, took one of the brothers off by themselves so she could get a feel for what their “actual” thoughts were without Darry’s watchful gaze, like she thought Darry was forcing them to say something they didn’t believe. It always rubbed Soda the wrong way. Luckily for him, it was usually Pony she wanted to talk to, he’d been so young when their parents died that everyone was worried about how he’d adjust, but it seemed his luck had just run out.

All eyes turned to Soda, who shrugged. “I mean, it hasn’t changed all that much since last time,” he said.

She gave him a gentle smile, different than the one she gave Darry. “Well, it’s been a while since I was last here, maybe you could refresh my memory, do you mind?”

Soda looked over at his brother unsure of what to do.

Darry just flashed him a grin and said, “Well, go on Soda, Pone can help me get dinner finished up, right kid?”

But Pony’s wide eyes were glued to Soda, studying him like he was trying to memorize every detail of his face in case he never saw his brother again.

Darry sighed, “Pony!”

Pony jumped before looking towards Darry, pink tinging his cheeks. He shook his head and said, “Right, yeah, of course, Dar. Let’s go.”

Soda figured the best thing he could do was turn up the charm, that seemed to work for Darry anyhow, so he tried an easy smile of his own. “Ready for the Curtis House Tour, it’s the best new attraction in town according to the Tulsa Tribune.”

She tilted her head and studied him for a moment, and Soda couldn’t help but feel like an animal at the zoo. Eventually, she said, “That sounds lovely, lead the way.”

They headed down the back hall and opened the last door on the left. “This room’s Darry’s now, but it used to be my parents before they died.”

“Did he move in recently?”

Soda shook his head, “Oh no. Moving in here was one of the first things he did after they died.”

She looked around, studying the room. Soda tried to look at it with fresh eyes, wondering what it must look like to a stranger. Certainly not like the room of a twenty year old man. The floral quilt on the bed, tucked neatly at the corners just like their dad had always done, was the one their mom had made when they were kids. There was a single painting hung on the wall, a quiet still life their mom had fallen in love with at a yard sale, the flowers in the painting the same colors as the ones on her quilt. A framed photo of their parents on their wedding day sat on the dresser, next to their mother’s jewelry and their dad’s watch. 

Soda hardly ever came in the room, Darry usually kept it closed off, and he never realized how little he’d changed when he moved in. The only thing out of place was the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, the one their dad had bought Darry for Christmas the year he died. It was almost eerie, like he was still waiting for his parents to get home from the grocery store.

“That must have been difficult for him, moving into their space so quickly after your parents died.”

Soda thought so too, but he certainly wasn’t going to say that to her. So he just shrugged. “He never mentioned it. I just figured he thought it’d be best for everyone to have their own bedroom, give me and Ponyboy our own space.”

“And do you like having your own space?” She asked.

Soda blushed, “Well, actually, I sleep in Ponyboy’s room most nights anyways. He gets nightmares real bad after everything, it helps him calm down if he has someone else there with him.”

As soon as Soda spoke the words, he cringed, wishing he could take them back. Should he mention Pony’s nightmares to her? Had Pony? Would that be enough to get them sent away?

“He doesn’t stay with Darry?”

“Oh no, not with Darry working all the time, he’d never get any sleep. Works out better this way for everyone.”

She took a step into Darry’s room and opened up the closet, his clothes were pushed to one side, their parents to the other. 

“Why didn’t he move back to your old room once you started staying with Ponyboy?”

Soda rolled the question around in his head, wondering if there was some sort of trick there, but he couldn’t find one. Eventually, he shrugged. “I never really thought about it. Maybe he wanted me to feel like I had my own space to go to if I needed it, or he didn’t feel like moving again, you’d have to ask him.”

She hummed in response and headed towards the door. “Your old room next then?”

“Not sure why, there’s nothing in there.” He said, walking out and shutting Darry’s door.

Mrs. Miller just gave him a small smile, “Humor me.”

The air was stale when he pushed his door open, dust catching in the late afternoon sun. He hadn’t stepped foot in this room for months, none of them had.

“Sorry,” Soda said, the air in the room stagnant and stifling. “I didn’t think about dusting in here.”

She waved him off. “It’s quite alright, Sodapop. It’s a lovely room, are all of these things yours?”

He went to say yes but found he couldn’t. Most of his things had migrated to Pony’s room without him even realizing it, and the things he left behind hardly felt like his anymore. 

Like the picture of him and Sandy on the dresser that he was surprised he hadn’t torn in two after she left. Or the album covers that lined the wall behind his bed. His favorites, like The Rolling Stones and Otis Redding, were cracked and worn along the edges. His dad had taken him to the record store on his fourteenth birthday to start his own album collection, and those had been the two albums Soda had picked out after hours of pouring over all his options. He played them so much Darry threatened to snap them in half. Now he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even opened the record player.

The rest of the stuff was Darry’s old things. His football posters, the KEEP OFF THE GRASS sign he and Two-Bit had stolen from Old Man Parker’s front lawn Darry’s sophomore year, a cutout from the newspaper after Darry had scored the winning touchdown during one of his football games. 

Soda felt like he’d stepped into a time capsule of their youth. The boys who’d dreamed of so much and loved so fiercely. What happened to them? 

Eventually, Soda managed to find his voice and said, “Some of this stuff over here is mine, the rest is Darry’s, musta figured it was easier to keep in here rather than move it all.”

She studied the room for a long time, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “Must have.”

Soda couldn’t stand to be in there another second. “Actually, most of my stuff is over in Pony’s room, seeing as how I basically live there now, just easier to grab it. Plus, it’s closer to the kitchen.”

For some reason, that made her laugh. She seemed more human in that moment. “Well, then, lead the way.”

Soda wished he’d taken Darry’s to-do list a bit more seriously before. The room was fine, certainly cleaner than normal, but there was no hiding that two teenage boys lived there. The bedsheets rumpled, tennis shoes shoved under the bed, Pony’s books splayed across the desk. Soda, for a reason he couldn’t explain felt embarrassed to be showing off the room.

“It ain’t much, but we like it alright,” He mumbled, watching as she looked over the room.

She opened the closet door, then turned to scan through the books lying on Pony’s desk.

“Is all of this your brother’s?”

Soda nodded, “Yeah, he’s got some big idea about writing a novel, been working on it all summer.”

“And what about you, got any hobbies?”

“Hobbies?” Soda said, giving her a strange look, who had time for hobbies?

“I work, don’t that count?” He asked.

She shook her head. “That’s what you have to do, what about in your free time?”

“Shoot, I don’t know. Me and my friend Steve go to the races sometimes, or the guys will come over and play poker. To be honest, I spend so much time looking out for my brothers I don’t really do too much of that hobby stuff.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he looked at her. Her face had morphed into something bordering dangerously close to pity.

“It’s not anything bad, Mrs. Miller, honest. I just like spending time with them, that’s all.”

She spoke slowly as if choosing her words carefully. “I just worry, Soda, that between helping Darry financially and Pony being so sick this past year you’re getting a bit lost in the shuffle.”

Soda scoffed. Thinking of what Darry told him the other night. Was she trying to catch his brother out in a lie? “No way. My brothers look out for me just as much as I look out for them. Pony’s been doing real good since the trial, and Darry handles all the finances. He always tells me he’s got it covered. Even after the other night—” but he stopped, realizing what he was about to say.

Mrs. Miller gave him a sharp look. “What other night?”

“Just, he’s been feeling bad after the car wreck is all. Still managing to pay all the bills on his own though.” He hoped she didn’t notice how bad his voice shook.

Mrs. Miller held his gaze and eventually nodded. “Of course, Soda, I get that. I just want to make sure you’re getting the space to feel like your own person too. The same hopes and dreams your brothers have.”

Something about that rubbed Soda the wrong way. “Yeah, well, no offense, Mrs. Miller, but Darry’s dreams died right alongside our parents, so I don’t know that he’s a great example.”

She studied him for a long time, then said, “You’ve got to think about you and what you want for your future, too. No matter how much you love this world right now, it won’t last forever.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” he said, turning away to stare at Pony’s books. Someone like her couldn’t possibly understand their world. They didn’t get to chase after hopes and dreams, and it didn’t do you any good to dwell on them. All they had was each other, and they had to make their world worth living in, even if that meant some things got sacrificed along the way. What did dreams ever get anyone, anyway? Not laughing at one of Two-Bit’s jokes so long his stomach hurt, or staying out so late with Steve that he swore he could see the earth spinning. Not finding constellations in the abandoned lot with Ponyboy, or his lungs filling with fresh air as he played football with Darry in the backyard.

Hopes and dreams couldn’t give him any of that, all he could do was protect those people and hold them close to his heart. He knew he’d sacrifice anything to keep them safe, just like they would for him.

Eventually, she broke the silence. “Very well then, but think about it, Soda. And you can always reach out to me if you’re having any problems, alright?” Her voice was gentle, and it grated against Soda’s nerves.

Fat chance of that, Soda thought, but nodded anyway, not trusting himself to speak.

They made their way back to the kitchen, Darry and Pony putting food on the table for dinner. “Mrs. Miller, would you care to join us?”

She gave him a tight smile, “If it’s not too much of an imposition.”

Darry pulled a chair out for her like their mom taught them to do, and the four of them sat at the tiny kitchen table. Soda couldn’t stop looking at all the things he missed while was cleaning up, the glass he left sitting out on the counter, the dirty pot on the stove, the dust on the top of the fridge. All of it stood out to him now as marks against them, an excuse for her to take them away from their home.

“I’m afraid this visit is a little unorthodox, boys,” Mrs. Miller said after everyone got a serving of food.

“That’s alright, me and Soda made plenty of food,” Pony said, glancing over at Soda as if trying to gauge his mood. Soda tried to smile back, but he wasn’t sure it reached his eyes.

“Well, it’s delicious, you boys sure know how to cook.”

“It’d be better if it were purple,” Soda muttered, Pony choked out a laugh, but Darry rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Miller said.

Darry must have felt like they were getting into dangerous territory, because he cut in, “Have things been going good for you down at the agency, Mrs. Miller?”

She nodded. “Oh, for the most part. I can’t really complain. But there has been a big kerfuffle the police have been dealing with. Lots of gossip in the office.”

“Oh really? That must be interesting.”

She nodded. “It is. Have you boys heard of The Brewclub, that little restaurant on the other side of town?”

Soda froze, mashed potatoes in his mouth suddenly thick and impossible to swallow. That was the restaurant where Darry got jumped. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Pony must have realized the same thing, judging by the wide eyed look he was throwing back and forth between his brothers.

But Darry, somehow, didn’t miss a beat. “Over off Jefferson Street? We’ve driven by there a few times, but most people from this side of town don’t drive out that far for a drink.” 

Greasers aren’t welcomed there was the clear implication, but Mrs. Miller didn’t comment on that.

“Well, it seems that the restaurant was broken into a couple of nights ago, some money stolen out of the cash register, and a lot of the alcohol, too. The place was a mess, apparently. Mr. Smith— that’s the owner— is pretty upset about the whole affair.”

Soda felt like a Looney Tunes character the way his heart was thrumming out of his chest.

Darry shook his head. “Well, glory, that’s a shame, hope they catch whoever did that quick. People like that really ruin it for everybody else, you know? Pony, can you pass me the potatoes?”

Pony jumped, but Darry just gave him a gentle smile and Pony handed him the bowl. Soda had no clue how Darry was still eating, he had all but abandoned his own meal.

“Well, they do have a lead,” Mrs. Miller continued, and Soda really wished she’d shut up. “Someone says they saw a red Chevrolet out there late that night, but it was gone by the time the cops got there. The description reminded me a lot of the truck you have if you can believe it, Darrel.”

Darry shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few red Chevy’s around here. Mine’s been in the shop from that wreck I was telling you about earlier, sounds like a good thing, too. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

His tone was casual, but the look he shot Mrs. Miller was not. She put her fork down and leaned back in her chair, abandoning any pretense of their meal.

“That’s not the worst of it. There are signs of a struggle, broken glass, blood, even a shoe was found. They don’t know what happened, but the cops think someone must have been hurt pretty bad. No one has come forward, though. They could be a big help in a case like this.”

Darry was the only one still eating, all eyes glued to him. He tore into a dinner roll, taking his time to chew it before saying, “Truly awful stuff Mrs. Miller, honest. Shame that someone got hurt like that. I mean, people really can be cruel.”

Soda was almost shocked at Darry’s bald-faced lie, but Darry never did like being backed into a corner. Mrs. Miller studied him for a long time, and Soda knew what a sight his brother was. Cuts and stitches, the ghost of fingerprints on his neck, he looked like one of those Jackson Pollack guy’s paintings Pony was always showing him. 

There was no question that Darry was there that night, not to anyone at the table. No, the question was what Mrs. Miller thought Darry had done.

Eventually, she sighed and shook her head. “I know you boys don’t believe me, but I try to do the best for you three.”

“Of course Mrs. Miller, we would never say otherwise.”

She gave Darry a look. “…I’m sure you wouldn’t. I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve had concerns, still have my concerns. Look at Ponyboy, for example. He had a tough year, and his grades suffered for it. That’ll look bad when he starts applying to colleges.”

“I just wasn’t thinking, is all,” Ponyboy muttered. “My teachers are letting me make some stuff up over the summer, honest, I’ll be fine when school starts up in the fall.”

“And let’s not forget that he ran away for a whole week,” she continued.

“That was a one time thing!” Soda said, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “Come on, Mrs. Miller, ain’t you ever done something dumb when you were a kid?”

She turned her gaze towards him. “Don’t get me started on you, Sodapop.”

“Me? My life’s just fine.”

“You dropped out at sixteen, young man, you’re not doing your future self any favors.”

“Sure, but I can deal with that then, what’s all that stuff matter now?”

He could see the annoyance creeping across her features, but Darry stepped in before she could explode. “Look, Mrs. Miller, with all due respect, my brothers are doing just fine. Ponyboy had a bit of a rough patch at the end of the school year, but I think that’s understandable. Like he said, we’ve talked to his teachers and explained the situation, so everything’s looking good for fall. Coach Clark even said there’s a chance for a scholarship if he keeps his running up.

“And Soda’s been looking into some places he can get his GED, maybe go to a trade school after, which would be good for him. He’d be happier there than he ever would have been in college.”

Soda did not, in fact, know he was doing these things. But was oddly touched that Darry had figured out a backup plan for him.

Mrs. Miller steadied Darry with a look. “Oh, they’re not the ones that I’m really worried about.”

Darry glanced around as if there was a fourth Curtis brother he was forgetting about. “What, me?”

She nodded. “Those are difficult paths for your brothers, to be sure, but who’s making sure all their aspirations come to fruition?”

“We’ve figured it out this far, right? We’ll just take these things as they come, that’s all we can do.”

“And if you do manage to get all these things accomplished for your brothers, what then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, what are your long term goals, Darrel? You’ve listed them out for your brothers, surely you have some of your own.”

Darry paused, and Soda realized, for the first time in the conversation, Darry didn’t have an answer, because what was he going to do? He’d dropped out of school and worked a job he hated, would he keep on doing that when his brothers no longer needed him? Did he try to go back to school? Would he be too old, too worn down? Four years seemed like a lifetime away.

Darry cleared his throat. “Like I said, we’ve done alright this long, I’m sure I’ll manage something down the line.”

Mrs. Miller’s expression softened just a fraction. “Look, Darrel, it’s a noble thing you’re doing for your brothers, and I commend you for it, I do. But you can’t lose yourself along the way, and you have to be smart about things. Take that robbery that happened last week. Someone could easily imagine a boy in your position might be in a tough spot trying to keep everything going. Could even be desperate, so desperate they decided to break into a nice restaurant like The Brewclub.”

Darry studied her for a long time, Pony, unable to handle the tension, cut in. “Darry does just fine on his own. He don’t need to rob some Socs’s business just to make ends meet.”

“Pony,” Darry hissed, their brother sat back in his chair, but his gaze still held a fire in it. Darry turned back towards Mrs. Miller.

“Look, Mrs. Miller, I don’t know what you think—”

She held out a hand. “I don’t think anything, Darrel, I know only what I see—” She gave Darry a pointed look, which he didn’t so much as bat an eye at— “and the rumblings I hear around town. I’m simply here to warn you, that Mr. Smith is very unhappy with this whole affair, and he will be pressing charges when the culprit gets caught. When, Darrel, not if. Do I make myself clear?”

Darry, nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

Soda couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “But Darry didn’t do anything!”

“Soda, hush,” Darry said.

Mrs. Miller turned her gaze towards him. It wasn’t as mean as he expected, or perhaps wanted it to be, it would have been easier then to hate her. “I’m not accusing your brother of anything, Sodapop. But I am making sure you are aware of how the situation looks to an outsider. I’d use this information to act accordingly.”

She stood up from the table and Darry followed suit, then Soda and Pony after he shot them a glare.

“Thank you so much for making dinner, boys, it was a real treat. You’ll have to give me that chicken recipe next time I stop by, Ponyboy.”

“Would you like to stay for dessert? We’ve got chocolate cake,” Darry asked, but Soda knew by the tightness around his eyes he wouldn’t be able to control himself if she stayed much longer.

She shook her head, ”No I really must be off, our visit was informative, I’ll be in touch soon for another meeting, Darrel. Until then.”

Darry escorted her out, the screen door slamming shut behind her.

When he returned he practically collapsed back in his seat with a weary sigh. He looked crumpled, sitting there with his head bowed and his hands folded on the kitchen table They all sat there in silence, the only sound Darry trying to steady his breath.

Then something strange happened. Ponyboy reached out and grabbed Darry’s hand. It was a simple gesture, but there was an easiness in the motion that Soda hadn’t seen between his two brothers since their parents died. Darry’s head shot up, startled by the touch. He hadn’t quite managed to pull himself together, and Soda could just make out the tears threatening to fall. 

“Darry, you alright?” Pony asked in that quiet voice of his.

Darry looked at Pony’s hand on his, then back up towards his brother with a tenderness that made Soda’s chest ache. He gave his brother a soft smile and nodded. “I think I’m ready for that cake now, how bout you boys?”

Chapter Text

Soda loved Two-Bit, really he did, he’d die for him if it came down to it. But boy could the guy be loud.

It’d been a long week at work. He and Steve had been pulling extra shifts down at the DX Station as much as they could and it left Soda with a bone weary exhaustion. Darry told him not to work so hard, but Soda ignored him. He was determined to get an extra stash of money saved up in case they ever needed it. He wasn’t going to be stuck like he had been last week, not ever again.

But he’d survive the week of hot days and long hours, and it was finally Friday night, exactly one week since Darry got jumped, and Soda had big things planned: crash on the couch with Pony and watch a rerun of The Beverly Hillbillies.

Those plans, however, were quickly derailed when Two-Bit barreled in the front door with his impeccable timing and loud voice, Steve only a few steps behind him.

“Heeel-lo, Curtis brothers! Your best friends are here to bring some party to your Friday Night!”

“We’re their only friends, dumbass,” Steve said.

Two-Bit made a big show of considering this before saying, “True, but you gotta cut me some slack here, the competition for the best friend spot was fierce just a couple of months ago, takes a bit for a guy to catch up.”

Steve gave him an exasperated look. “What are you even talking about?”

 Two-Bit smiled. “Well just look at the facts. Sure, you were a shoo-in for Soda’s number one guy, but Pony’s best friend spot was up for grabs! I mean Dally was really no competition, that guy was as prickly as a porcupine, but Johnny gave me a run for my money. The kid was a freakin’ angel you know? He nearly edged me out of best friend status more than once.”

“Glory, Two-Bit, you ever stop running that mouth of yours?” Soda said, reaching around to punch their friend harder in the arm than necessary.

He cast Pony a worried glance, but wonder of wonders, the kid seemed to take it in stride, and said, “I don’t know what you’re going on about, Two-Bit. Johnny’s dead and he’s still number one. So the real question is, how’s it feel to be losing to a dead guy?”

Two-Bit laughed, and Soda felt himself relax. Pony had been coming back to himself bit by bit over the past few months. It was moments like these, where he was quick to laughter and could hold his own with their friends that made Soda hopeful that the kid would turn out okay.

Two-Bit made his way to the kitchen to raid their fridge, and Steve plopped down on the couch next to Soda. “Where’s Muscles? We’ve got something to show him.”

“Mr. Cooper helped him snag a part-time job over at the salvage yard. He should be home soon enough.”

Two-Bit came back from the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand and a beer in the other. “Second job? When’s that guy sleep?”

Soda shrugged. Darry just started the schedule a couple of days ago, but it made Soda nervous. His brother dragged himself through the door every night long after the streetlights came on with a slump in his shoulders Soda didn’t like.

As if summoned by the thought, they heard footsteps on the front porch, and Darry came in a few moments later. Weariness seemed to be painted over his features, something beyond just a long day of work. Soda found himself wondering, not for the first time if he was getting any sleep.

“Well, well, look who the cat dragged in, just in time too!” Two-Bit said, voice as loud as ever.

Darry flinched, frightened eyes scanning the room. He startled easy these days. Soda didn’t miss the way Two-Bit winced at the reaction.

But when Darry realized it was just Two-Bit and Steve he smiled and limped over to his recliner. “Hey guys, I didn’t know y’all were coming over. You boys got some big plans for Friday night?”

Soda was about to propose his Beverly Hillbillies idea, but apparently, the guys had something up their sleeves because Steve said, “Sure do, and you’re tagging along too.”

Darry shook his head, giving them a strained smile. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think I’ll be very much fun to be honest. You guys go on.”

“Come on, Dar, when’s the last time you let loose and had some fun?” Steve asked.

Darry furrowed his brow. “I have fun when I want to.”

Two-Bit gave him an amused look. “Oh really, name one time.”

“Well, something funny at work happened today…”

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. “Like that counts. Come out with us tonight man, we’ll have a blast.”

Darry eyed the four of them, and Soda had the strange urge to tell him he wasn’t involved in whatever harebrained scheme the other two had planned. After a moment, Darry said, “Is it my birthday or something and I forgot?”

Steve and Two-Bit glanced at each other before Steve said slowly, “No, why’d you think that?”

“Because you guys never ask me to come out on a Friday night.”

Soda hated to admit it, but he had to agree. It was odd that they were gunning so hard for Darry to come with them. Not that they didn’t like hanging out with Darry, they just never really had. Four years made a world of difference when you were in high school, and Darry never wanted to hang out with his dorky little brother and his best friend. Why would he? Darry had his own friends to hang out with on a Friday night. Some nights he’d head out with Paul and his football buddies, other times he and Two-Bit would drive around town and raise hell, (Soda had a feeling that some of Darry’s wildest times in high school involved Two-Bit), but after their parents died, Darry stopped even that.

They’d never much been in the habit of all going out together, so he never gave asking him much thought. But now that it was laid out in front of him, Soda couldn’t help but wonder if part of the reason Darry never went out anymore was there was no one for him to go out with.

And leave it to Two-Bit to have it all figured out. “Come on, Dar, me and Steve here got a surprise for you, and if you don’t come hang out with us, well, all our hard work’s gonna go to waste. You don’t want that, do you?”

Darry gave him a look. “Now I really think I’ll stay home, a surprise from the two of you can’t be anything good.”

Two-Bit flashed that goofy smile of his. “Come on man, when’s the last time we all hung out together, it’ll be like old times, yeah?”

Darry eyed them like he was waiting for the catch. “It really must be something for you to be laying it on this thick.”

Steve pipped up, “It’s nothing illegal we swear. We’re just gonna head down to the drive-in, me and Two-Bit even scrounged up enough money for tickets and everything, our treat.”

But Darry was already shaking his head. “No, no. I can’t ask you guys to pay for us.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Will you forget your pride for half a second there, dummy? You know how much me and Two mooch off of you. You probably cut my old man’s grocery bill in half with the amount I eat here. This ain’t nothing.”

Then, to everyone’s surprise, an ally came from an unexpected place, Ponyboy. “Come on, Dar. The three of us haven’t gone out in ages, what’s the harm?” And Soda knew there was no way their brother was getting out of this now.

Darry sighed, the sound weary, and Soda almost felt bad that they’d ganged up on him. If Soda was tired, he knew that exhaustion had taken root in Darry in a way that was hard for his brother to shake.

Soda reached over and patted Darry on the knee. “Hey, it’s just the drive-in, all we’re doing is sitting around in Two-Bit’s crappy car and watching a movie, same thing we’d do if we stayed at home. Heck, we’ll probably fall asleep halfway through the thing anyways.”

Darry gave him a stern look, but there was a mirth in his eyes that reminded Soda of when they were kids.

“If I fall asleep and one of you tries to draw on my face or stick my hand in warm water or some other dumb prank y’all have come up with, I’ll make you regret the day you were born.”

Steve smiled. “Who would be crazy enough to face Superman’s wrath? Not us.”

Two-Bit cleared his throat. “There is one tiny problem though, we won’t be going in my car, exactly.”

Darry frowned. “Then what the hell are we taking? I don’t want to sit in the stands all night, it’s too hot for that.”

Two-Bit and Steve shared a look, then smiled at the brothers. “Come on, we’ll show you.”

They had to walk two blocks to get to whatever the heck their friends had planned.

“Why didn’t you just park out front like you always do? We could have driven to the surprise then,” Pony asked.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Because that would’ve ruined it, dumbass. Besides, two blocks ain’t even far. Aren’t you supposed to be a track star or something?”

“But it’s like a hundred degrees out right now. Why do you think we’d want to walk anywhere in this heat?”

“Can you just stop your complaining? I mean honestly, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back at the house where the A.C. is.”

Soda let their bickering drift off as he slowed his pace to walk with Darry. He could tell his brother’s ankle was hurting something fierce, but for whatever reason, he refused to do anything about it. Soda wanted to pester him about it now, he had a perfectly good pair of crutches just wasting away in the closet, but thought better of it when Darry shot him a look, daring him to try.

“How’s the salvage yard going?” Soda asked instead.

Darry gave him a lopsided grin, “Alright, I guess. It’s more of the same stuff I’m doing for Mr. Cooper right now, makes my head hurt after a while.”

Soda nodded, “Does it make up the difference in salary?”

Darry’s smile became more relaxed. “Actually, I’m making a little extra. I don’t like it as much as roofing, so I’m not planning on going out and finding work as a secretary or nothing, but it’s alright as a temporary thing.”

“I didn’t know there was anything you could hate more than roofing,” Soda said because it was true. Darry hated lugging roofing up and down ladders all day long. He liked the people he worked with all right, and that helped, but Soda could see how the job wore him down, taking away parts of him the longer he worked under the hot Tulsa sun. Not that Darry complained all that much, that wasn’t his style, but Soda knew his brother pretty well, and he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought himself to be.

Darry shrugged. “I don’t love it, but at least I get to move around a bit, you know? Do something with my hands. This is just staring at files all day and crunching numbers. Makes me feel like an old man or something.”

Soda nodded, listening to the easy conversation of Pony and their friends up ahead. It was nice to have their little rag-tag group all together for once. He couldn’t think of a time they’d all gone out when Dally and Johnny were still alive, not the whole gang together. Maybe Two-Bit and Steve were right, maybe they should make the time to go out and just be kids. He wished they’d done it before.

But there was something bugging him that he knew he couldn’t shake. It kept him up all night, tossing and turning, and he knew if he didn’t ask Darry now, he might not get the chance later.

So, he steeled himself and asked, “Did you think any more about what Mrs. Miller said?” It shattered the illusion of their carefree night. But it was weighing heavy on Soda, and he didn’t think he could carry it anymore.

Darry frowned. “I told you already you shouldn’t be worrying about that, I didn’t do anything, so what does it matter?”

But they both knew it mattered a great deal if the wrong people believed him guilty.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Darry sighed and rubbed a hand over the bruises on his neck. They were just starting to fade, but Soda could still make out where the fingers had pressed into his skin. “What is there to do? I can’t call a lawyer because it’d look too suspicious, not that we could afford one anyways. I just gotta hope the police start looking somewhere else. Maybe one of the guys was dumb enough to leave something behind, some of those boys weren’t the brightest bunch. Or we could be lucky and Mrs. Miller was just overreacting.”

Soda doubted that. Mrs. Miller didn’t strike him as someone who jumped the gun. “You could get ahead of it, go to the police, and tell them what really went down.”

Darry scoffed. “Yeah, I could also run for mayor of Tulsa. It’s not like either of those things are gonna do me any good.”

Soda should have let it rest at that, but there was another question had been bothering him, one he was almost afraid to ask. “Did you know they robbed the place? You never mentioned it.”

Darry wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It was a long night, hard to keep everything straight after a while.”

Soda wanted to say more but Ponyboy had just turned the corner up ahead and stopped cold. “Glory, how’d you guys manage this?”

Soda and Darry shared a confused look and caught up to the rest of the group, taking in the sight in front of them.

“Is that—”

“My truck?”

Two-Bit’s grin was so wide Soda thought his face might split in two. “She sure is a pretty thing ain’t she?”

“I don’t— But how?” Darry said. He stood in the middle of the road, slack-jawed and eyes the size of dinner plates. Soda hadn’t seen his brother this shocked since their parents bought him a brand-new bike for his twelfth birthday.

Because there it was, like nothing ever happened to it, Darry’s truck, red paint glowing in the evening light, looking as good as the day their dad bought it. 

Ponyboy ran over to it and opened the door, the familiar squeak of the hinges soothing something in Soda he didn’t know was unsettled. “I thought you guys said it was all messed up, it looks pretty good to me.”

Soda shook his head, “It was trashed, kid. How’d y’all manage to get it fixed up so quick?”

Steve smiled, patting the hood of the truck. “Tim Shepard knows a guy that owed him a favor, didn’t ask too many questions about it, he said we wouldn’t want to know. But he gave us a real good deal on the whole thing. Guy fixed her up good as new.”

And the closer Soda got, he realized just how good the guy had done. The windows were replaced and rolled up and down no sweat, better even, because the passenger side used to catch about halfway and you’d really have to fight it to roll all the way up. The tires were newer than the ones that got slashed like they got them at a real auto shop and not stolen off some junker at the salvage yard. It looked good, better than before.

“This looks real smart guys, I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Soda said.

“What can I say? We’re men of many talents,” Two-Bit said, leaning against the hood of the truck.

Soda smiled over at Darry, who was still frozen in the same place on the sidewalk, staring like the ghost of their parents just risen from the dead.

“I don’t, I can’t—”

Two-Bit smiled at him. “Bud, you’re really gonna have to start using full sentences again at some point. Did those Socs knock you in the head harder than we thought?”

“Told you guys we should have taken him to the hospital,” Steve said, his own smile wide enough to rival Two-Bits.

Darry managed to tear his eyes away from the truck and look over at their friends. He was blinking, fast and hard, and there was something in his expression that made Soda nervous. 

“Dar, you alright?” He said.

“We can’t— I can’t afford this, I can’t pay you guys back for this. I mean, eventually, maybe, but it’ll take time.”

Steve scoffed. “Who said anything about paying us back? My extra shifts this week covered most of it and whatever hellhole Two-Bit got his money from covered the rest. Don’t sweat it, man.”

But Darry shook his head, that desperate look not leaving him. “No it’s too much, I can’t ask you guys to do this.”

Two-Bit tilted his head, studying his friend. “That’s the thing, you didn’t ask.”

Soda took a step towards his brother, who flinched back, Soda froze, surprised by Darry’s reaction, and it seemed his brother was too if the guilty look he threw Soda’s way was any indication. Soda just cleared his throat and stayed planted by the car, running his hand through his hair in a stilted, awkward motion. “It’s okay, Dar. We can figure it out. I’ve got a little bit saved up so I can pay them back in a couple of weeks, no harm.”

“No!” He hollered, voice ringing out on the empty street. They were all shocked by the outburst, perhaps Darry most of all. He seemed off-kilter, his eyes wide and wild like he wasn’t quite seeing them.

“Darry, I swear man, it’s no big deal, honest,” Steve said, voice laced with a gentleness Soda had never heard from his friend. Soda glanced over at him and was surprised at the worry written over his features.

Darry shook his head. “You guys don’t get it, this is my responsibility. I’m the one that drove out there, I’m the one that got jumped, that let them trash Dad’s truck. I’m the one who started this whole mess. Not you, not Steve, not Two-Bit. Me. I need to fix it.” 

“Darry—” Soda started, unsure of what to say, but it didn’t matter because Two-Bit pushed away from the truck and walked towards Darry. His brother didn’t flinch back this time, but Soda could tell it was a conscious effort.

“I’m serious, Two-Bit,” Darry said.

Two-Bit tilted his head. “You know what I was thinking about the other night when we found you in that phone booth?”

Darry shook his head.

“I was thinking about the first time we met, like exchanged words. I mean, I’d seen you around the neighborhood before, you were impossible to miss. I think you were about six foot all the way back in eighth grade. Me? I was a scrawny little sixth grader who weighed about seventy pounds soaking wet. We had just moved here that summer and you were the coolest kid on the street. I was terrified to talk to you.”

Darry let out a breath of air that could almost pass as a laugh if it wasn’t so shaky. “Talking’s never been a problem for you.”

Two-Bit smirked. “I’ve really grown as a person. Anyway. First day of school rolled around, and I’m this little nothing of a thing. No one spoke to me all day, I hid in the bathroom during lunch, and I kept getting lost going to all my classes. I’m freaking out. And then P.E. rolls around, and I make the mistake of smarting off to some Socs.”

Darry’s smile looked a little more real this time, his eyes more focused. “You always were running that mouth of yours.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift. But those guys didn’t think so, just started waling on me, four of them. I didn’t stand a chance, I thought I was good as dead. Then you come in, like you’re some sort of superhero or something, sock one of ‘em good in the jaw, and the rest of them just scattered.”

Darry shrugged. “They were just some sixth graders,” he mumbled.

“I was all embarrassed, and you took me to the locker room and helped me get cleaned up, and you know what you told me? That my black eye looked tuff, and I was gonna be the coolest kid on the east side, already getting into fights and only in the sixth grade. And I swear, Darry, I thought you hung the moon or something, man.”

“It weren’t nothing, Two-Bit.”

Two-Bit laughed, but it was tinged with a desperate sort of sound that made Soda think he was on the verge of tears.“It was just the beginning. You took me under your wing that year, let me eat lunch with you, introduced me to the gang, showed me all the cool spots to hang around town. The only reason anyone gave me the time of day was because I was Darrel Curtis’s friend. 

“And you know what? You didn’t stop there. That summer when Sally Jenkins and me dated then she broke my heart, you kept me from moping around and feeling sorry for myself. And when my dad left—” Two-Bit stumbled over the words, then steadied himself before he continued “—when he left, and I thought the world was gonna stop spinning, you took me on that camping trip with your folks, you remember that? We stayed up all night eating s’mores and watching the stars. I swear I’ve never seen more shooting stars than I did that night.”

He took another step forward, grasping Darry’s shoulder. Darry pulled his eyes up to meet his friend’s. There was something desperate in Two-Bit’s expression, something Soda couldn’t name. 

“I can’t ever repay you for that, Darry. Any of it. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, so just get your head out of your ass and let us do something for you, just this once. Because this?” He gestured back towards the truck, glowing in the fading light. “This ain’t nothing. This is just elbow grease. What you’ve done for me? They could write novels about that shit man.”

Darry’s expression had melted into something soft, “Two-Bit— Keith, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, I do. It’s just too much to ask you guys to do. You’ve got your own lives, your own families. I don’t want to take away from that.”

But Two-Bit shook his head. “We’re all we got man. With everything this past year, with Johnny and Dallas, your parents. The five of us is all that’s left.”

Darry looked between their two friends, expression unreadable, but then something settled over him. His voice was quiet and weary, but he said, “Never took you two to be such saps,” with a weak smile, and Soda felt like the whole world shifted back into place.

Two-Bit gave him a gentle shove in the arm, smiling wide. “Don’t get used to this treatment. I expect there to be a chocolate cake and a twelve-pack with my name on it next time I’m over.”

Darry nodded and threw his arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“Well, what’d you boys say we go show off these fancy wheels at the drive-in?”

They all climbed in the truck, Steve, Two-Bit, and Pony in the back, Soda riding shotgun, and Darry back behind the wheel, they slotted in place like they always had. All of it familiar, all of it soothing. The worn leather seats, the squeak in the driver's side door, and if you knew what to look for, you could just make out the smell of their dad’s cologne, hanging rich and sweet in the cab of the truck.

When Darry sat down, he paused and ran his hands along the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dar?”

He nodded. “Just thinking.”

Soda studied him for a moment, this was the first time he’d driven since he got jumped, the first time he’d gone anywhere besides work. He could hear the keys shake in his hand as he put them in the ignition.

But then, Darry glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled, Soda turned back to see what caught his eye, and saw their friends roughhousing in the bed of the truck, their laughter breezing through the rolled down windows. 

Darry shook his head and turned to Soda. His smile seemed less tired. “Maybe you were right.”

Soda shrugged. “I always am. But what specifically am I right about this time?”

 “What you said the other night. Maybe we can get through this, all of us together.”

Soda nodded and listened as the engine revved up. The familiar sound that had followed him his whole life. As they drove down the road Soda thought that maybe they had a chance.

Soda couldn’t remember the last time he actually drove a car to the drive-in.

He’d only had his license a couple of months before his parents died, so it wasn’t like he was doing much driving around back then, and when he did get his license, Darry still got first dibs on the truck since he was older, so that meant that Soda only got to take it out on the Fridays Darry wasn’t using it.

Which was never.

He and Sandy came once or twice in her car, but she always complained about it not being ladylike and stayed in a sour mood the whole time they were there, so he took it off their date night rotation pretty early in the relationship.

On the rare occasion he he did find himself going to the drive-in he preferred what he thought was the much more economical option, sneaking in through the hole in the fence at the back corner of the parking lot and sitting in the stands.

So if going to the drive-in with a car already felt foreign to Soda, going in the Chevy felt like something out of this world. It was big and clunky and loud compared to the robins egg blue Thunderbirds and the sleek black Mustangs lined up in the parking spots, and working class in a way that Soda had never felt before. Because they weren’t in a car meant for cruising the town and having a night out with your date. But instead, they arrived in a working man’s truck like they’d come in hot from their shift, red as a fire hydrant, the body nicked and dinged, and the bed covered in a layer of sawdust.

Soda sunk lower in the seat, embarrassment making his cheeks tinge pink as the other teens stared at them driving by. He almost told Darry they should just call it and go sit in the stands, but then he looked over and saw how relaxed his brother was, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he hummed along to (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay playing over the radio. He watched, and something in Soda softened. Maybe, he thought, he could let it go just this once.

Besides, he soon learned that Two-Bit and Steve had come prepared. They loaded down the bed of the truck with pillows and blankets to sit on, transforming the beat up bed into something downright comfortable. And when the movie started playing and Darry threw an arm around his shoulder, Soda thought maybe this was as close to heaven as they could get, sitting in the back of Darry’s ’59 Chevy with his friends, laughing until their stomachs hurt at some cheesy beach movie, and the smell of popcorn and burned hotdogs hanging in the air.

That was until something caught Darry’s eye. He felt his brother stiffen, and Soda looked up to see fear written across his features.

“What’s wrong?” Soda asked.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Darry said. Soda didn’t like the way his voice shook.

“Why? What’s going on?” He said, sitting up.

“Now Soda.”

Darry was struggling to disentangle himself from the rest of the guys, who hadn’t caught on yet to Darry’s panic.

“Hey, what the hell man, quit kicking me in the back of the head,” Two-Bit whined.

Darry went to respond, but another voice cut in.

“Darry? That you? I thought I recognized this beat up old thing. Although it’s looking pretty good now.”

Darry froze, and Soda turned to see Paul Holden standing directly in front of his brother, Coca-Cola in hand and an easy smile on his face. Soda felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over his head.

When no one spoke, Paul continued with a crooked grin, “Long time no see! How you been?”

The look he gave Darry was easy and full of mirth, but there was a glint in the older boy’s eye that filled Soda with a rage he hadn’t felt since those cops killed Dally.

“What the hell do you want, Paul? Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Soda asked, voice low.

Paul smirked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about kid. I ain’t see Darry over here since he bailed on me at college.”

Steve scoffed. “I seem to remember him whooping your ass at the rumble a few months ago. Last thing I saw was you running off with your tail between your legs.”

Paul hardly glanced in Steve’s direction. “If that’s the story you Greaser boys like to tell, go right ahead. And what about you, Superman?” He said the nickname with an artificial sweetness that made Soda’s skin crawl.

“What about him?” Pony said.

“Just that it looks like you’ve had a rough go of it. I mean, someone really did a number on you.”

Soda ought to take him down just for that, and could tell the guys felt the same way, judging by the way they were closing in on Paul.

But Darry surprised them all, and said, “Leave it, Paul, we don’t want any trouble.” His voice was hoarse but had a strength to it that Soda couldn’t help but feel proud of.

Two-Bit scoffed. “Speak for yourself, Muscles. I’d love to have some trouble right about now.”

Paul tutted, “Such a shame someone bruised up that pretty face of yours. What is it you Greasers say? Not so tuff looking?”

He reached out and grabbed Darry’s face before Soda could stop him, and Darry flinched back, popcorn spilling out of the bag in his hand. Soda managed to push himself in between them.

“What the hell Holden? Lay off of him.”

Paul held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, boys, not trying to start anything, just catching up with an old friend is all. Speaking of old times, I just thought of something. Remember when we used to go to The Brewclub after we finished our ball games, Dar? Did you hear about all the trouble they’ve been having?”

Soda felt like someone had sucked all the air out of his chest. He looked over at Ponyboy, who had an angry set to his jaw, and if looks could kill Paul would be about six feet under by now.

But when he turned back to look at Darry he was surprised to see a sadness in his expression where he’d expected fear.

When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle as he said, “Paul, look, I’m sorry about everything, okay? But we don’t have to do this—”

But Paul just kept talking like Darry never spoke. “You didn’t hear? Someone robbed the place, stole a whole lot. It’s been all my dad’s been talking about. I mean, he and Mr. Smith have known each other since high school, so it’s personal for him, you know? And you know how my dad gets when something’s personal.”

Fear flickered through Darry’s expression, and Soda felt like he was a step behind.

“Your dad? What’s he got to do with any of this?” Soda asked.

Darry was the one who answered. “His dad’s the police chief,” he said quietly.

“Funny thing is,” Paul continued, “someone reported seeing a truck out there, and the description sounded awfully familiar. If only I could put my finger on whose it reminded me of. Some old beat up piece of junk.”

Soda didn’t know why this, of all the things Paul said, was what made him snap. Maybe because it was their dad’s truck, maybe it was because Two-Bit and Steve had just worked so hard to get her fixed up. Or maybe he had just reached his limit. But whatever the reason didn’t matter, Soda lunged for the boy, punching him square across the jaw, his coke sloshing over and getting all over the other boy’s shirt. “You wanna go, Holden? We can do this right now.”

“Soda!” Darry snapped and pulled him back. But Soda didn’t turn, he only had eyes for Paul.

The older boy smiled, the bright tinge of blood staining his teeth. “You think you can take me? Cause Darry sure couldn’t.”

“Yeah, because six on one is a fair fight.” Pony said, coming up right behind Soda. He could feel Steve and Two-Bit coming to flank them.

“You know he screamed like a girl when we held him down? Called out for your daddy? Too bad he’s no good to you boys dead.”

Soda went to pounce again but Darry held him back, popcorn flying everywhere.

“Let me go Darry!”

“Soda, calm down, he’s not worth it!”

“Did you hear what he was saying about you? He needs to get his teeth knocked in!”

“Two-Bit, start the truck! We’re leaving, now,” Darry said, pulling Soda away from Paul.

“Why should we? He didn’t fight fair, this’ll just even the score,” Pony said, voice laced with a hatred that Soda didn’t like, but couldn’t disagree with.

“Because you two are still my kid brothers and I said so! Now move!”

Soda didn’t know how, but Darry managed to corral them all back inside the truck, driving off so fast the tires squealed as they turned out of the parking lot.

Soda could see Paul in the rearview mirror, smirking as he watched them drive away.

Only Soda and Darry were in the cab, the other three in the bed of the truck. Soda felt a reckless anger rushing through him so fierce he wanted to scream.

“What the hell man, I could have taken him,” Soda spat.

Darry just rolled his eyes, treating Soda’s words like a child throwing a tantrum. “Use your head, kid. What are you gonna do? Take down a Soc in front of the whole town? Five against one? You wanna land your ass in jail for the night? Huh? Your brother’s too while you’re at it? You gotta think Soda.”

But Soda was too angry for thinking. “You just gonna let him talk about you like that? Fuck, Darry, you used to be tuff, now you let assholes like Paul walk all over you? I mean, what a joke.”

Soda regretted the words as soon as he said them. He knew they weren’t true, and certainly not fair, and hated how similar they were to what Paul had just thrown at him. Darry winced, his hands tightened on the steering wheel before he forced his grip to loosen again. Soda felt himself deflate. 

“Dar—”

“It’s just talk, Pepsi, and we can’t afford to lose our heads over talk. There’s too much on the line for all of that.”

Soda tried to steady his breathing, willing the anger to unclench in his chest. He didn’t know how Darry did it. He remembered a time when his brother ran as hotheaded as he did, more so, even, that’s why none of the other gangs would mess with them. So how could he manage to stay so calm now?

“I just don’t get it,” Soda said.

“What’s there to get?”

“I mean, jumping you, the robbery, his dad. Why the hell is he going after you so hard?”

Darry glanced over at him, something guarded in his expression. He thought he knew everything about his brother, but suddenly, they felt worlds apart.

“It’s a long story,” Darry said, voice measured and quiet.

“We’ve got time.”

Darry glanced in the rearview mirror, then rolled up the windows. The air in the car became hot and sticky without the wind passing through. 

“You sure you wanna know?”

It’d be easier to say no because then he could go on pretending that they were the same people they’d always been. They could still get back to the boys they were before their parents died, before Johnny and Dally, before life wore them down and left them with nowhere to escape.

Back when Darry could still be friends with someone like Paul, who came from a nice family and lived in a nice neighborhood, and if he dressed right and scored enough touchdowns, people might actually believe Darry was one of them.

But Soda couldn't do that. He needed to know because otherwise, he wasn’t sure they’d make it through.

So he smiled and said, “You know I’m always up for a good story.”

Darry nodded, and let his foot off the gas, slowing down the speed so they’d have more time. And finally, he glanced over towards Soda and nodded.

“Let’s start at the beginning.”

Chapter Text

Darry met Paul on the first day of football tryouts in sixth grade. He’d been terrified that day. None of his friends from the neighborhood were trying out, and he’d all but talked himself out of going, that was until his dad surprised him with a brand new pair of cleats that morning before school.

They were a sleek black with white trim and smelled like new leather. Darry had been pouring over that very pair in his dad’s Sporting Good catalog for weeks, but he had no idea the older man knew.

“You didn’t have to do this dad, it’s too much.”

But his dad smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Of course I did, I’m proud of you, son.”

Darry frowned down at the shoes, he was almost afraid to touch them. “What for? I ain't done nothing yet. I might not even make the team.”

His dad just chuckled and ruffled his hair. “For trying something that’s scary, and if a new pair of shoes is what’s going to give you that extra edge today, then it was worth every penny.”

It was with his shiny new cleats and that thought in mind that pushed him through tryouts that day.

He tried to keep his head down and focus on keeping up with the bigger kids. The seventh and eighth graders seemed impossibly large to him, and Darry knew they were looking for any excuse to pick on the Greaser kid dumb enough to come to football tryouts. So, he kept to himself while the other boys cut up between plays, and tried to plan ahead for anything that came his way.

“Hey, you’re not half bad,” another kid said when they were taking a water break.

Darry shrugged, unsure if the other boy was being truthful or not. “Thanks, I’ve been playing a while.”

“How come we’ve never met?”

“I don’t know, you ain’t been hanging around the same places as me I guess.”

The other boy stared at Darry, and for a minute he thought he said something wrong, but then the kid burst out laughing. He held out a hand. “You’re funny, man. The name’s Paul Holden. I’ve been the quarterback for the rec team the past few years, hoping I can maybe make second string. How ‘bout you?”

Darry suddenly felt three steps behind. Rec teams? He’d been lucky if he could round up enough kids in the neighborhood to play a scrimmage in the park, and half the time his parents made him drag Pony along to play with them, like a five year old was any good at football. 

“Name’s Darrel, all my friends call me Darry though. I’m just seeing what I can get, I don’t have my sights set on nothin’ in particular.”

Paul nodded. “That’s smart, too. Wish I could do that, but my old man used to be a quarterback, and he’s determined I’ll be one too. Want’s me to get a scholarship with it.”

“Scholarship?” Darry had never heard of that before unless it was for those brainiac kids.

“Yeah, you don’t know? They give ‘em out to kids that are real good at sports sometimes, pay for your college and all that. It’s what all those guys playing for the University of Oklahoma have. That’s gonna be me someday.”

Darry had been watching college football with his dad for as long as he could remember. Those players seemed like movie stars, and he couldn’t imagine a world where someone he knew could actually be one of them. It’s not like anybody from his neighborhood had gone to college anyway.

The coach blew the whistle, ending their conversation, and tryouts continued. Darry hadn’t thought much of their talk at the time, but from that moment on, whenever they had time to chat Paul came jogging over to him, and they started cutting up just like the rest of the guys. For a few seconds, Darry could almost pretend he belonged.

The next day the roster was posted on the announcement board for the whole school to see. Darry was pretty sure his bones turned to jello as he made his way up towards the list.

He scanned it, his name not jumping out at him, and for a minute, he thought he got cut. Then, down at the very bottom, his name was written in big bold letters: DARREL CURTIS JR.

“Hey man, you got in too!” It was Paul standing next to him, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Darry allowed himself a small smile, “I guess I did.”

“This is going to be the best summer ever! Anything to get me out of the house, my parents drive me up a wall,” Paul continued.

Darry shrugged. He didn’t know about that, his parents were all right, but he knew for lots of kids that wasn’t the case.

Paul held out his hand, “You and me man, we’re gonna be the rockstars of this team, what’d ya say?”

Darry smiled and returned the handshake, unable to believe he’d made his first real friend.

Paul was good, but never quite as good as Darry. Coach Lee called Darry into his office halfway through his first season for what he called a “huddle.” Darry figured that was just a nice way to tell him he was getting kicked off the team.

So imagine Darry’s surprise when his coach smiled at him from across his desk and said, “You’re good kid, real good, did you play any before this year?”

Darry shrugged. “Just stuff with my little brothers, guys around the neighborhood. None of that rec stuff if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Where you from?”

“East Side.”

Coach Lee nodded. “You’ve got a real eye for this, I want to train you up a bit for quarterback, see how you handle it. You won’t be playing it on the field anytime soon, so don’t get any big ideas, but Randal’s going to be moving up next year to high school, and I’m going to need a kid to replace him.”

Darry felt like he’d stepped into something he wasn’t quite prepared for. “And you think I can do it?”

“You don’t?”

“Well, what about Paul, all the guys love him. And I know he’s played before.”

It was true. Paul didn’t brag about it necessarily, but he certainly told stories of his glory days as the rec ball quarterback often enough that the whole team knew he was gunning for the position. Darry felt a little like he was going behind his back just by having this “huddle” with Coach Lee, even if he had no clue this was what huddling was about.

Coach Lee tilted his head, giving Darry a thoughtful look. “I agree, Paul’s a real leader of the group, but it’s like you see the game three steps ahead. I think you’d be a good fit, but let’s just play around with it for a few weeks, and if you feel like it’s not working, it’s no harm, okay kid?”

Darry never mentioned the conversation to Paul, didn’t mention it to anybody, because he didn’t think anything would come from it. Darry had been around the Pauls of the world his whole life, he knew his place. He just needed to keep his head down and do the work like his dad taught him, none of the rest mattered.

That was, until the last game of the season, when their quarterback broke his ankle and Coach Lee called him over.

“I’m gonna need you to step in kid.”

Darry blinked at him. “What for?”

Coach Lee did a good job at hiding his aggravation, but Darry could tell he was pushing his luck. “Quarterback, kid. We’ve been working all season for this, right?”

Nerves consumed him in that moment, and he felt like electricity was coursing through his body. He was suddenly aware of his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at the kids around him, almost all of them older, and every one of them terrifying.

“Me? But, coach, I can’t, I’m just some Greaser kid, these guys aren’t going to listen to me.”

Coach Lee’s expression did something funny, then he bent down so he was at Darry’s level.

“Listen to me, Darry. When you’re out on this field, you ain’t gotta worry about who’s a Greaser and who’s a Soc, you’re all just kids playing for one team. These guys respect you and know you have a level head. I know it, too, or else I wouldn’t put you out there. Trust yourself.”

Darry took a deep breath and looked out at the stands, he found his parents sitting there, little brothers running around like madmen behind the bleachers. His dad managed to get time off for every one of his games that season, even if that meant he had to put in overtime later. He saw Darry looking at him and waved.

Darry put his helmet on and ran out on the field.

They won that game, 28 to 14. Darry didn’t think he helped, per se, he didn’t score them any other touchdowns, but he didn’t lose them the game either. His step felt light as he made his way off the field.

He caught up to Paul just outside the field house. “My parents are taking me and my brothers out for ice cream, you wanna tag along?”

“I’m good man,” Paul said. There was an iciness to his tone that made Darry uncomfortable.

“What’s gotten into you? We won! Don’t you wanna go out and celebrate?”

Paul still wouldn’t look at him, keeping a few paces ahead of Darry. “Not with liars,” he said, tone bitter.

The anger caught Darry off guard, and he couldn’t help but feel out of step with his friend. “Who’s lying?”

Paul scoffed. “I just find it funny that you never told me coach was training you up to be the quarterback.”

“I didn’t think nothing would come of it. Honest Paul, it ain’t a big deal.”

Paul finally stopped and looked at Darry, he’d never seen his friend so angry. Darry took an instinctive step back. “How can you say that? You knew I was gunning for it, I told you that from day one, but you went behind my back and got it anyway. And here I thought you were my friend.”

Something about that rubbed Darry the wrong way, his own anger bubbling. “Well that’s funny, I thought you were my friend, too. Guess not though, because a real friend would be happy for me.”

Paul gave him a sharp look like Darry was the dumbest kid he’d ever met.“You don’t get it, do you? My dad wanted me to be quarterback since he found out he was having a son. He’s been training me for years, rec teams and private coaching. Then you come along with your greased hair and your new cleats like you think you’re one of us, but you’re wrong. Quarterback was my thing, Curtis.”

Darry couldn’t believe the words flying out of Paul’s mouth. He’d expected this from the older boys, the ones with a mean streak, but not from his best friend. “Hey, I have just as much right to it as you do or else Coach wouldn’t have picked me. You don’t get everything you want in life just because you’re a Soc, Paul, the real world don’t work like that.”

The boys were standing nose to nose, and Darry knew they were seconds from a fight breaking out, when another voice rang out, “There a problem boys?” 

They turned to see Officer Holden, still in his police uniform, walking towards them. He was built like a bull and seemed impossibly big to Darry, like he could consume all the space in a room. 

Paul shook his head; he’d gone rigid. “No problem at all, sir. Darry and I were just discussing the game.”

Officer Holden stared at them for a long time. There was something unsettling about him that made Darry’s skin itch.

“You the kid who played quarterback today?”

Darry held his gaze like his father taught him to do, “Yessir, just trying to make coach proud.”

“Where you from?”

“East Side, sir. Down past the tracks.”

The man shifted. Silence stretched between them before he finally said, “One of them Greaser kids, huh? Think 'cause you can come out here and throw a football it’s gonna make a lick of difference who your daddy is?”

Darry didn’t know what to say, his mouth felt as dry as if he’d swallowed sand. No one had ever talked bad about his dad before, certainly not in his neighborhood. His parents were some of the most hardworking, dependable people in town. Darry didn’t know he was supposed to be embarrassed by them.

It was then he heard his own father calling, and Darry had never been so happy to hear his voice. “Darry, son? What’s taking you so long? Soda’s gonna eat his own arm if we don’t get that ice cream soon.”

His father stopped short when he turned the corner and saw them standing there with Paul’s dad. Darry watched as he shifted his stance, pulled out that big smile of his Darry had seen him use when talking to his teachers.

“You must be Paul’s dad. I’m Darrel Curtis, nice to meet you, Junior here’s my kid. That’s one fine boy you’ve got there, he’s been playing real good this season.”

Officer Holden stared at him, eyes narrowing. “I thought so too, he was gunning for quarterback, seems your boy got some good training over on the other side of the tracks.”

The words were laced with disgust, but Mr. Curtis just smiled. “Darry’s always been a real smart kid, just listens to what his coaches tell him. I’m sure Paul’s the same.”

Officer Holden grunted. “Paul might need to listen a little better.”

Paul’s face went beet red and Darry wished he could be anywhere else.

Mr. Curtis seemed to pick up on the boys’ discomfort because he patted Darry on the shoulder and said, “Well, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a great deal more of each other next season. Gotta run though, I’ve got some boys who were promised ice cream, and I think they might start a riot if I don’t get them some soon.”

When they were out of earshot, Mr. Curtis gave Darry a look. “You okay, son?”

Darry shrugged, “Paul got real mad that I played quarterback, I felt bad.”

Mr. Curtis nodded, and for a while, Darry thought that would be the end of it, but just before they made it back to the car he said, “Sometimes, when someone’s scared they lash out at the people they care about. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, son. Paul will come around.”

“I don’t think his dad liked me much.”

Mr. Curtis tilted his head as if considering Darry’s words. “I don’t think he likes much of anyone from our side of town, but that’s alright, Darry. We’re not for everyone. You just keep your head down and stay on your course. If Paul wants to be your friend, this’ll blow over. And if not, well, he wasn’t your friend anyway.”

But something else bothered Darry. “His dad was kinda scary.”

“Yeah, scared me too if you can believe it.”

For some reason he couldn’t explain, the words were a comfort for Darry, like he and his dad were on the same team.

“Really?”

“Sure did, That’s why I wouldn’t be too upset about Paul, he’s probably a bit scared too.”

Darry thought back to Paul’s face when they were fighting, the hurt in his eyes, the fear when his dad came around the corner. Darry wished he could help him, get him to understand that he’d chose being his friend over quarterback every time if it would make a difference. But he didn’t know how.

Then Mr. Curtis ruffled his hair, breaking him from his thoughts. “But enough about all that. Come on, I wanna hear all about my son, the quarterback! You've been holding out on me, little buddy!”

So they got ice cream and Darry went over every minute of the game so many times Soda started plugging his ears and telling him to shut up. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if Paul would be okay.

They’re thirteen when Paul raps on Darry’s window in the middle of the night and nearly scares him to death. 

Darry managed to sneak out without waking up Soda (luckily the kid could sleep through a bomb) and found Paul outside with a haunted look in his eye that washed Darry with dread.

“How’d you even know where I live? You ain’t never been here before,” Darry asked because it was easier than learning whatever nightmare had brought Paul to his widow at three in the morning.

Paul shrugged. “I’ve just been walking forever and ever, no real rhyme or reason to it. Just happened to see your dad’s truck, thought I’d come see you, don’t know why…”

Darry touched his shoulder, and the other boy flinched. “Paul, buddy, you’re scaring me. What happened?”

Darry led them to the abandoned lot a couple of blocks from their house, the street lights cast the world in a strange yellow haze.

“My mom, she left.”

Darry felt like he was missing something obvious. “Where’d she go?”

Paul shrugged. “They fight— fought I guess— my parents. All the time. And I don’t— He slapped her around sometimes, got rough with her. Whatever happened she said he went too far. So she left him. Left me.”

“But if he’s as bad as all that surely she’ll come back for you.”

Paul’s voice was quiet. “No, I don’t think she will.” 

Darry wasn’t sure what it was, the tone of his voice, the empty look in his eye, the way he sat next to him like a puppet whose strings had been cut, but Darry knew, with the same certainty as Paul, that she was gone and there was nowhere left for Paul to run. His dad was all that was left.

“Paul…” Darry said, rubbing a hand along his friend's back, wishing his own dad was here, he always knew what to say.

Paul reached up a hand to wipe away the stray tear. His sleeve fell back, and it was then Darry noticed the bruises blossoming on his arm, purples and reds coloring his skin.

“I’m fine, Darry, really,” Paul said, voice trembling. “Shouldn’t have woken you up like that. Stupid of me.”

Darry shook his head. “Hey, I don’t mind, my brother was snoring anyways, you did me a favor.”

They sat in silence for a while as Darry let Paul collect himself. There was no moon, so the sky was littered with stars.

There was a question burning at the back of Darry’s mind he couldn’t let go of. And he found himself asking before he thought better of it. “Why come to me? Why not any of your other Soc friends?”

Paul shrugged. “I didn’t think they’d get it, not like you.”

There was an implication there that Darry didn’t like, “Hey, my dad’s a good guy.”

Paul shook his head, “I don’t mean like that, but I don’t know, you’ve seen real stuff, I guess. Feels like the rest of the guys live in these sugar coated worlds where nothing bad touches them. But people actually live out here, you know?”

Darry nodded. He understood, in a way. All the guys on the football team seemed caught up in dumb stuff that didn’t matter, like the newest cleats or finding a date to the spring dance. Darry thought it all seemed so silly when there were bigger problems at home. Like how worn down his dad had become now that he had three mouths to feed, or how his mom cried after she had to call and ask to borrow money from her parents. Sometimes Darry felt like he came into this world worrying about money.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “Well, it ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

Paul huffed out a sound close to a laugh, “Tell me about it,” he muttered. 

The silence stretched between them, the quiet hum of the cicadas nearly lulling Darry back to sleep. He liked coming out to the abandoned lot, felt like he did some of his best thinking out here.

Eventually, Paul’s whisper broke the silence, laced with anger and desperation,“I just wish I could leave this town and never look back.” 

Darry nodded, never taking his eyes off the sky above. He’d known a long time ago he’d die without ever leaving the block he was born on, but sometimes, he wished he could grasp onto something greater. “Too bad we can’t get those football scholarships you’re always going on about. That’d be a nice gig, being paid to play football and being on the TV.”

He laughed, but Paul sat up straighter, and when he caught Darry’s gaze there was something close to hope settling in his eyes that worried him.

“We could, you know,” he said, breathless.

Darry’s heart seemed to jump in his chest. “We could what?”

“Go off, get scholarships for the same school, play on the same team somewhere,” he said.

Darry scoffed, he didn’t like how excited his friend’s voice sounded, as if there was a world where that could happen. “I ain’t going to college, dummy. It was a joke.”

But Paul shook his head. “No, you could. Dad talked to Coach Lee about my chances of getting a scholarship, and he said if I kept playing like I have been I’ve got a real good shot. And you’re twice as good as me— don’t look at me like that, you are, everybody knows it. Plus you got the grades for it. if I can get one, it’d be a cakewalk for you.”

Darry couldn’t believe the turn the conversation had taken.“Will you just stop? Guys like me don’t go to college.”

“Why not?”

Darry went to answer and then paused. Because why not? He’d never given it much thought, that was just the way things were. But all the boys on the team were talking about going to college, and lots of kids in his class too. Darry had always assumed he’d just do what his dad did, marry young and work in construction, but what if he wanted more? What was the harm in aiming for something bigger than the East Side of Tulsa? Especially if he could pay for it on his own.

“You really think we could?” He asked, voice quiet, as if speaking the words aloud might jinx them.

Paul nodded. “I do Darry, honest. We could go off to The University of Oklahoma or somewhere else, I don’t even care, and we could be like all those guys on TV and finally get away from all this.”

Something in the air felt electric. And in the hazy cast of the street light, anything felt possible.

“Alright, let’s do it then,” Darry said, smiling a bit wider. “But we gotta make it official somehow.”

“Like what?”

They sat and thought on it for a minute before it finally occurred to Darry. “We can make a blood oath like Tom and Huck do.”

“Who’s that?”

Darry rolled his eyes, “Don’t you read? They’re the guys in Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”

Paul scrunched up his face, thinking. “A blood oath? What’s that?”

“They make a contract and sign their names in blood, but we don’t have any paper, so we’d just have to settle for a handshake, I’ve read some books where that works, too.”

Paul’s look of disgust made Darry laugh. “Why on earth would you want to do all that? Won’t it hurt?”

“Because you can’t break them! You gotta keep them, no matter what happens. You’re serious about this thing, right?"

Paul nodded, face turning solemn.

“Then we gotta prove it, come on.” Darry pulled out the pocket knife his dad had given him, with the wooden handle and the golden cross on the side.

He made a cut across his palm, hardly enough for any blood to come out, but enough to feel the sharp sting from the blade. Then he held the knife out to Paul. “You wanna do it, or want me to?” 

Paul snatched the knife out of his hand and made his own cut, even shallower than Darry’s.

They clasped hands, and Paul looked up at Darry, “Now what?”

“Now, we gotta swear.”

“What are we swearing?”

Darry thought about it for a minute, then said, “Do you Paul Holden, swear that you’ll work real hard to get a football scholarship, and when we grow up, we’ll find a nice college to go to and finally get out of Tulsa.”

Paul nodded, eyes wide and earnest. “I swear.”

Darry nodded, “Good. Now repeat it back to me.”

Paul did, and Darry made his oath, but as he went to pull his hand away, Paul clasped on tighter, the look in his eye turned urgent.

He added, “And do you swear that from this point on, it’s you and me against the world?”

There was something desperate in his friend’s expression, something so broken and lost. Darry gave his friend’s hand a gentle squeeze, and with as much conviction as he could throw into his voice, he said, “I swear.”

They sat there, under the yellow street lights, hands clasped and blood mingling, and the world seemed to shift around them. It felt like in that moment, together, they were untouchable.

They’re seventeen and it’s their state football game, and Darry just threw the pass to Paul that scored them the winning touchdown. 

Darry’s on cloud nine, joy coursing through him in a way he didn’t think was possible. The team huddled around him and lifted him up, their captain, their quarterback. It felt like Darry could conquer anything.

He found Paul on the crowded field and pulled him into a bear hug. “We did it, man!” He shouted, smiling so big his cheeks were sore.

But Paul didn’t seem as happy as he should be. “I missed the ball on that one play, though. Nearly cost us the game.”

Darry gave him a light shove. “What are you rattling on about man? We won! Who cares about that!”

Paul looked like he was going to say more, but then Darry felt a small pair of hands hug him from behind. 

“Darry that was so cool! I can’t believe you guys did it!” Pony said, looking at Darry the way little brothers sometimes could, like Darry was the tuffest guy in the world. 

Darry pulled him into a hug, then reached out and grabbed Soda too, who’d been too cool for hugs since he’d become a freshman. But Darry didn’t care right then, he’d done it, the team had done it. And everything Darry had worked for since sixth grade finally came true.

Their parents were a few paces behind them, and when Darry finally untangled himself from his brothers, his mother reached out and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her touch soft and gentle and smelled of lavender.

“My sweet boy, the football star,” She said, and he ducked his head, cheeks flushing pink.

“Glory Mom, it ain’t all that,” He mumbled, but she just shushed him and gave him a hug. 

When he finally turned towards his dad, he was shocked to find the usually stoic man staring at him misty-eyed.

“Dad…”

But his dad just pulled him into a hug so fierce and loving that Darry felt consumed by it.

“I’m real proud of you, little buddy, today and every day, don’t you forget that, alright?”

Darry nodded into his shoulder, unable to speak, and let his father’s love wash over him.

Between hugs with his teammates and handshakes with scouts, Darry was the last one off the field. It was getting late, but his parents wanted to take him out for ice cream, it’d become something a tradition for the last game of the season, so he told them to wait for him out by the car while he got his things.

 He headed to the locker room and heard voices echoing down the hall. He slowed down, surprised anyone else was still there.

He began picking up bits and pieces of the conversation as he got closer, then suddenly, stopped cold right outside the door. Because he knew that voice, knew it well.

“Dad, we won, so what does it matter that I messed up one stupid play?” Paul said, in a dangerous tone that worried Darry.

“Because you gotta think of the bigger picture, son. You think for one second any of those scouts are going to pick you when you play like that? I was never that sloppy out on the field. I could have made something of myself kid, you could too, if you’d just learn how to catch the damn ball for once in your life.”

Darry heard a locker slam. “Will you shut up Dad! I’m sick and tired of you always going off on me.”

Officer Holden’s voice cut in, cold. “What’d you just say to me, boy?”

Darry wished desperately that Paul would stop, but his friend was on a roll. And when Paul got going, he could say things that cut to the core.

“It’s not my fault you got mom knocked up and had to drop out of school and it’s not my fault you beat her so much she left you."

“Now listen here—”

“No! The only reason your life sucks so much is because you’re a miserable old man who don’t do nothing but drink all night and hate the world all day, and I’m sick of you taking it out on me.”

The silence that followed consumed the locker room. Darry held his breath, as if even that might break the spell. But as the silence stretched on curiosity got the better of him. He pushed open the door, just enough to see Paul standing across the room. Darry couldn’t see Officer Holden’s expression from where he stood, but judging from Paul’s horror stricken face, it wasn’t good.

Paul swallowed, and let out a broken, “Dad—” 

But Officer Holden didn’t let him finish. He pulled back his hand and slapped Paul so hard he fell into the lockers.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Officer Holden said and reared back to hit him again, but Darry suddenly remembered how to move.

He shoved into Officer Holden with all the strength he had. He might have been a bull of a man, but Darry was younger and stronger. Officer Holden stumbled, and just barely managed to catch himself before he fell.

“You can’t take it out on anyone else so you gotta beat up your own kid? Get the hell away from him,” Darry said. 

Officer Holden turned, and there was so much anger written across his face that it took all of Darry’s willpower not to take a step back. “Who the hell do you think you are kid? ‘Cause I gotta newsflash for you, you’re daddy’s nothing, those brothers of yours are nothing, and you ain’t worth the scum off my shoe.”

“My father’s twice the man you are,” Darry said, voice rough.

Officer Holden’s face twisted into a smile. “You think you’re gonna make it outta this place cause you can throw a football? Twenty years from now, you’re still gonna be living in that tiny house of yours without a penny to your name, and Paul here? He’s gonna be somebody.”

Anger and shame twisted in Darry’s chest, and if it wasn’t his friend’s father, he would have already pounced. “Maybe, but at least I won’t be a deadbeat dad like you.”

Darry had struck a nerve, and Officer Holden reared back to hit him, but Paul shoved his dad back.

“Leave him alone, Dad. He’s my friend!”

Officer Holden stepped forward, and for a minute, Darry thought the man really might try and kill them, his eyes filled with an anger that made Darry’s blood run cold, but then they heard someone calling down the hall.

“Darry, you in there? Mom says to hurry up!” It was Ponyboy’s voice, light and innocence, and it seemed to break the spell of the locker room.

Darry grabbed Paul by the shoulder and ran towards the door. “Come on man, let’s get out of here.”

“I won’t forget this boys,” Officer Holden said, voice laced with something that made Darry shiver, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to get out of there.

“Yeah, funny, I don’t think I will either.” 

He brought a dazed Paul along with him to the ice cream shop. His friend didn’t say a word to anyone the whole time. Just sat there and watched his ice cream melt.

Darry bumped his shoulder into his friend's, and finally, he turned and looked at Darry. His eyes looked haunted, but Darry just smiled.

“Hey, it’s alright, you know why?”

Paul shook his head, and Darry held out his hand, you could just make out the light scar where he’d cut his palm all those years ago. Paul stared at it for a while, then lifted his eyes to meet Darry’s.

“You and me against the world, remember?” Darry says, still holding his hand out, waiting.

Paul's expression softened, then he smiled.

“You and me.”

Darry got a partial scholarship to the University of Oklahoma. Paul didn’t. Darry didn’t ever tell him that though, he couldn’t afford the school without a full ride anyway. 

But another school in town gave them both offers. It was a small two year school, but they had a good football program, and more importantly, they could try out for another school their junior year.  Darry got a partial scholarship, and his dad got him a job working over at Mr. Cooper’s Construction to cover the rest. 

He and Paul thought they might have a chance.

They turned nineteen, scouts came, and they got drafted together for The University of Oklahoma come fall. Suddenly, Darry thought that maybe he could be all he’d ever dreamed of being.

But then the unthinkable happened on Darry’s birthday.

His parents were killed in a car crash.

Everything shut down for him, his friends, his social life. He realized that nothing was the same, he had to plan a funeral, he had to pay for a funeral, he had to pay for everything.

And worse than that, Pony and Soda kept looking at him with those sad eyes like he was supposed to have all the answers now. Pony had nightmares so bad the kid hardly got two hours of sleep every night. And Soda just kept running. Staying out late with Steve drinking, skipping school, scaring Darry half to death that one night he just wouldn’t come home.

Darry picked up extra shifts at Mr. Cooper’s, then locked himself in his parents' room every night and cried.

Paul came over two months after they died and asked if they could go out. Darry said no, he had too much going on. But Paul gave him that look, like he could see straight through all the walls Darry had put up. And Darry realized he needed a second to breathe.

So he told Soda he’d be right back, and he and Paul headed over to the same lot they sat in when they were thirteen years old, when they felt trapped in this town, but it seemed like there were infinite chances to escape. Darry wished he could have that back.

Paul asked him how he’d been, and like a dam, Darry broke. Everything came rushing out of him; about his parents, about identifying their bodies, about having to work nonstop to keep the lights on, about how he didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep it all up. How he felt like he was drowning. And Paul nodded along and listened, and let Darry pour his heart out into the cold winter night.

When finally, Darry stopped talking so he could come up for air, Paul spoke. “Well, at least you only have to do it for a couple more months, then this’ll all seem like another life.”

Darry blinked, trying to understand the words, but no matter how they rolled around in his head, he couldn’t.

“What do you mean?”

Paul turned to him. “When we head off to OU in the fall, all this will seem like nothing.”

And Darry realized he hadn’t even thought about college since his parents died. What was there to think about? He had responsibilities now, he couldn’t just run away and play football.

“Paul,” He said quietly, “I’m not going to OU in the fall.”

“Why not?”

And Darry couldn’t help it, he laughed. The ridiculousness of the situation washed over him.

But it just seemed to make Paul mad. “What’s so funny?”

“Paul, how the hell do you think I’m going to be able to go to college? I gotta take care of my brothers, man.”

Paul’s brow furrowed. “They’re old enough, ain’t they?”

“Soda’s barely sixteen, Pony’s only thirteen. They’re kids.”

“There’s no other relatives? Nobody?”

Darry shook his head. “Nobody worth anything.”

“You can’t stick them in a boys home or something?” Paul asked.

Darry stared at his friend, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I’m not doing that, Paul.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re my brothers? I’m not going to send them away to live with the state when I can keep us together. They’re all I got left.”

Something dark and dangerous twisted in Paul’s expression, “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Choosing this crappy life of yours over everything we planned. You got a chance Darry to break out of all this and make something of yourself and you’re throwing it away for some kids?”

Darry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was a roaring in his ears as the world around him seemed to slip off its axis, his best friend suddenly morphing into a stranger.

“Do you not get what’s happening? My parents are dead, Paul. Dead. I buried them two months ago. I had to go and pick out their caskets, and meet with funeral directors, figure out how to pay for their tombstones. I had to write their obituaries. Do you think Soda and Pony could have done that all on their own? They need me, Paul. I’m all they got left.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “And what about me?”

The conversation kept taking turns that left Darry feeling dazed and bewildered. “What about you?”

“You promised me, Darry, that we’d get out of here together. Or did you forget?” 

He held out his hand and Darry could just make out the white line across his palm from their blood oath that seemed like a lifetime ago, the same one on Darry’s own palm. Darry clenched his fist tighter.

“Do you hear yourself right now? How insane you sound? You’re mad at me because I can’t follow you off to college? This isn’t about you Paul!”

“This is our only ticket out of this town.”

“And you can still go! Just because I can’t leave doesn’t mean you can’t. They’re my kid brothers, what am I supposed to do?”

The cold winter air burned his lungs as he took in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The street light cast harsh shadows across Paul’s face that made him unrecognizable. 

When Paul spoke, his voice was cold. “I should have known my dad was right about you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Paul kept going, his words growing harsher and louder the more he spoke. “He was right. You’re worthless trash from the East Side who’s gonna wind up poorer than dirt and dead just like your dad and you know why? Because you were born a grease and you’ll die one too.”

The words seemed to echo around the parking lot like a gunshot, and for a moment, Darry didn’t think he could breathe. A memory flashed in his head of when they were kids and Darry had just played his first game as quarterback, how mad Paul had been. His dad had told him to shake it off because Paul was just scared and lashing out.

But Darry was scared, too. Every morning he woke up terrified about what the day would bring, and every night he tossed and turned worrying about how he would keep it all going. His life seemed to be consumed by a fear that was impossible to escape. Because it wasn’t just him he had to look out for, but Pony and Soda, too. And there was no one around that could help him out. It was all laid out at his doorstep, and he was terrified that it’d all fall apart.

But no matter how terrified he was he’d never lash out at Paul, not his best friend. Certainly not like this.

Darry stood up and brushed off his jeans. He needed to go.

“Where are you going?”

“Home Paul.”

Something flashed across Paul’s face he couldn’t name, or maybe he didn’t care to try anymore. “Come on man, don’t be like that—”

He reached out and grabbed Darry’s shoulder, but he shrugged him off. “No Paul, no. Don’t touch me, don’t come anywhere near me again.”

“I thought we were friends, Darry!” Paul screamed, voice tinged with something desperate. “I thought we were getting out of this town together, you and me.”

“What do you want from me, Paul? I gotta take care of my brothers. They’re all I got left.”

“They’re not all you got.”

Paul’s expression held something soft and delicate, but Darry didn’t care. Couldn’t care. His words had wounded something deep in his chest that Darry knew he couldn’t get passed, so he gave Paul a hard look and said, “They’re all I got that matters.”

Paul flinched back hard, but Darry didn’t want to see the hurt in his face. He turned and walked back towards his home. He had to get dinner started. He didn’t have time to be out with Paul anyway.

“I didn’t see him again until the rumble, and you know the rest,” Darry said, there was a haunted look in his eye as he played the memory in his mind.

“So you think he’s doing all this to what? Get even? Make your life hell for the fun of it?”

Darry shrugged. “I heard a few weeks ago he lost his scholarship to Oklahoma, had to move back home with his dad.”

“So you think he blames you for that?”

Darry tapped his fingers across the steering wheel. “Paul always lashed out when he was scared, I guess the stakes are bigger this time.”

They sat in silence, turning onto their street. Soda knew they didn’t have much time left before they were home, and he didn’t have high hopes for getting Darry to continue this conversation later.

“I just don’t get it. Shouldn’t he have done something, I don’t know, bigger than stealing from some bar? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a big deal, but it’s not like you’ll go to jail for a long time, I mean, they’ve caught Tim Shepard doing worse and he’s out roaming the streets right now.”

Darry gave him a gentle look. That was the thing Soda appreciated the most about Darry. When Soda didn’t understand something obvious to the rest of the gang, he never once treated him like an idiot, but slowed down and broke it up piece by piece until it clicked in his head.

“It doesn’t really matter. If he does manage to convince his dad I’m guilty, which wouldn’t be hard, and they convict me, they could lock me up for a month, a week, a day, whatever. On paper, I’d still be a felon and I’d still lose custody, ain’t no way they’d let me keep you guys.”

Panic welled up in Soda’s chest. “Mrs. Miller said she could help, right? Maybe there’s something she could do.”

But Darry shook his head, “It’s too big even for her. If this gets pushed off long enough and you’re eighteen, then you’d be fine. But Ponyboy…”

And that’s the real kicker, their brother was barely fifteen, he still had three years left that he could be taken away from them.

Then an idea occurred to him.“But I’d be an adult, why couldn’t I just get custody?”

Darry gave him a small smile, “Money would still be an issue, Pepsi. If something happened, and I did get put in jail for a while, I just don’t know that your salary at DX would cover it. It’s not just the custody that’s on the line.”

And Soda realized he was right. If the worst case scenario happened, and they did more than just give Darry a slap on the wrist, they could be separated, they could lose the house, they could lose everything.

He glanced over at Darry and could tell there was something else bothering him, his grip on the steering wheel too tight, his expression grim.

“What else are you not telling me?”

Darry glanced over at him, “What makes you say there’s something else?”

Soda smiled. “I’m your brother, I always know.”

Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “It selfish, it don’t matter that much really…”

Soda laughed. “I think being selfish is the least of your worries, Dar.”

Darry tapped his fingers again, thinking, and for a moment, Soda thought he wouldn’t answer, then, he said, quietly, “Like I said, it doesn’t matter as much as the custody or the house or nothin’, but if I get convicted it’ll go on my record. I don’t think it’d affect my job at Mr. Cooper’s, there’s a lot of guys with a record that work down there, but if I ever did want to try and go back to school or anything…”

Darry faded off, and suddenly Soda understood. Because this wasn’t just about that night, or jail, or even what would happen to Soda and Pony. Because while this would make life difficult for the two of them for the next few years, they’d eventually be able to move past it. But Darry? Another Greaser kid with no degree and no prospects? A criminal record would haunt him, follow him wherever he tried to go, and remind him exactly where he belonged.

Suddenly, Soda wondered how Darry managed to carry it all. “We’ll figure something out, Dar, we always do.”

Darry nodded and gave him a smile as they pulled into their driveway, but Soda knew he didn’t believe him. The rest of the guys jumped out of the bed of the truck, still muttering about Paul, and Darry got out to join them, smile plastered on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world. Soda wasn’t sure how, but in that moment he knew he’d do something to help his brother out, whatever it took. 

And Paul Holden would get what was coming to him.

Chapter Text

July melted into August, and Soda couldn’t remember a time he’d been hotter. The air hung heavy and damp, clinging to his skin like a wet blanket. The wind, their only hope of relief, seemed to have packed up and left town, leaving behind a stagnant, muggy air that was hard to breathe and impossible to escape.

Maybe he remembered that summer as so hot because he spent nearly every day roasting under the sun at the DX station, pumping gas and changing oil under the metal awning that offered him and Steve little relief. The days were slow and long and the fumes from the pumps made him feel lightheaded by the time his shift ended.

Or maybe the heat stuck in his mind because it put everyone on edge that summer. Kids seemed to prowl the streets with fighting in mind, and stories of Greasers getting jumped or jumping Socs became the talk of the neighborhood. The hotter the temperature the hotter the tempers rose, and there wasn’t any sign of the weather cooling off. 

It was the first week of August and Soda and Steve were having an unusually slow day at the station. They’d pulled their chairs together so they could play a game of poker during the lull. It was too hot to do anything that required moving— really too hot to play poker, but if they didn’t do something to take their minds off the heat Soda figured they’d just up and quit rather than suffer in the sun another minute.

But then, an even more entertaining distraction came driving up to the pump, a beat up old Galaxie, black paint chipped and the bumper dented.

“Is that Tim Shepard?” Steve asked, looking up from the card game.

Soda grumbled and turned, thinking Steve was just trying to distract Soda from the game he was seconds away from winning, but wonder of wonders, out popped Tim, cigarette dangling from his mouth and sleeves ripped off his shirt, a look Soda could never quite pull off. He glanced around the DX station, and when he saw Steve and Soda there, he lifted his chin and gave a tight smile, like the expression was foreign to him.

“Hey Shepard, haven’t seen you around these parts in a while, whatcha up to?” Soda asked.

“Just driving around, needed some gas, thought I’d stop by my favorite Greaser joint,” Tim said, leaning against the car. Soda started pumping gas while Steve got to work cleaning off the windshield.

Soda didn’t know Tim all that well, his gang tended to keep to their own streets in the neighborhood, and Soda never really sought them out. They were tuff in a way that made Soda nervous, pushing things farther than he usually wanted to go. He knew Pony liked to bum around with Curly sometimes, something that drove Darry up a wall, and Soda tended to agree. The Shepards always seemed just one step away from ending up in prison for life or dead, and that was just a little too rich for Soda’s blood.

But still, Tim had helped them out with the Chevy, something he didn’t have to do, so Soda found himself softening to the older boy.

“Hey man, thanks for the help with Dar’s truck, it’s been real nice having it back. Don’t know how we would have been able to get it done without you.”

Tim’s smile became a little more relaxed. “No sweat, I know a guy like I told Steve here, so don’t worry about it. Gotta look out for our own yeah?”

Soda nodded, surprised. He’d never thought Tim considered them part of “his own,” but who was he to question a good thing?

“How’s Superman doing, anyways? Two-Bit made it sound like they made a real meal out of him but I know how that guy can run his mouth,” The tone was light, but his expression hard.

Soda winced, thinking of Darry. In a lot of ways he’d been getting better, the bruises had mostly faded, and he’d finally cut out his stitches the night before, leaving him with a real tuff scar just above his eyebrow that he could tell Darry hated. Mr. Cooper might have even cleared him to go back to roofing, if not for the cold Darry caught this week, leaving him bleary eyed and sneezy. His boss had told him the only place he was going was back to the office. 

But the thing eating at Soda was the shift in his brother the past few weeks. Ever since that night at the drive-in, he seemed closed off in a way that worried Soda, hardly saying a word most nights when he came home from his shift, and leaving early in the morning before his brothers were up. He was running himself into the ground so he wouldn’t have to think about everything that happened, but Soda knew it was a matter of time before it all caught up to him. What he didn’t know was what Darry would do when it did.

Soda didn’t say any of that, though, because despite what Tim said he wasn’t part of their gang. Instead, he gave him his Hollywood smile and said, “He’s doing alright, he’s tuff, you know,” because that’s what Darry would want him to say, especially to a guy like Tim.

Steve, who had just finished washing the windshield and was opening the hood to check the oil, followed his lead. “You know how Dar is, the guy could be on his deathbed and still insisting he’s fine for a rumble, he don’t let nothing knock him down.”

Tim smiled. “Toughest guy on the East Side, don’t tell anyone I said that though, gotta reputation to keep.”

They lapsed into silence as Steve finished up the oil and Soda started checking the tires, Tim kept looking around as if he was expecting someone else to show up.

“You planning on meeting someone here?” Soda asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Tim shook his head, glancing back towards Soda. “Just wondering. You two the only ones here?”

The question raised the hairs on Soda’s arm, and he looked over at Steve, who had his own dubious expression written across his face.

“I mean, yeah? Just the two of us most days,” Steve said slowly.

But suddenly, Soda could picture all the things a guy like Tim would want them to give him if he thought he had an inside man at the station; free gas, free tires, free oil change, all with Soda’s job on the line. And that was a conversation he certainly didn’t want to have with his boss. “But we can’t do nothing crazy here. I mean, I can probably give you a Coke or something on the house, one of them little DX calendars for your fridge, but like, they don’t even let us employees get gas for free, you know?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “I swear, you Curtis brothers are such wet blankets. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“…Oh,” Soda said, ducking his head. If his face wasn’t already beet red from the heat, he knew he’d be pink from embarrassment.

Tim took a step closer to where Soda stood by the pumps, and Steve gave them a curious look until Soda motioned for him to join them.

“Two-Bit told me about what happened to your brother,” Tim said slowly.

Something in Tim’s tone made him nervous, and Soda was suddenly wondering if involving Tim had really been worth getting the truck back. “Yeah,” he said, after eyeing the older boy, “so you said.” 

“Mentioned a few names that might have been involved.”

Soda was a little surprised Two-Bit had told him that much, but then he remembered his friend’s expression the night they’d found Darry, how angry he’d been when they realized what had happened. Maybe he was like Soda and looking for any way he could to get revenge. “Yeah, Darry’s mentioned a few of them, been kinda tight lipped about the whole thing, though.”

Tim nodded, pulling his gaze away to stare at the DX sign hanging above their heads. “Something real similar to Curly happened last year, so I know a bit about what you boys are going through,” Tim’s expression darkened for a moment and Soda had the sudden urge to reach out and offer the older boy some comfort, then remembered that was a quick way to get his face smashed in.

Tim shook his head and continued. “Anyway, I did some digging around and thought you might wanna know. Those Socs who did your boy dirty? They got a bit of a pattern.”

Soda’s heartbeat picked up speed, but he did his best to keep his cool. “Yeah?”

Tim nodded, pulling out a pack of Malboros and offering one to Soda and Steve, who declined. Soda couldn’t smoke after smelling gasoline all day, made him sick.

“Yeah, they meet up at a little joint just outside of town every Friday night, real off the beaten path like. Someone could find it real easy to make some trouble for them.”

Soda glanced at Steve who gave him a funny look he couldn’t quite decipher. 

“How do you know it’s the right guys? Darry hasn’t even given us all the names.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t I guess, but I know the ones that matter are there like that Paul guy. And what’s it matter if some others get caught in the crossfire? A Soc is a Soc.”

Soda considered his words for a minute, wishing he had taken Tim up on that cigarette. “So what are you saying? You think me and the guys should go grab some dinner on Friday?”

Tim shrugged. “We’d meet you over there if you like. Have ourselves a nice little Greaser reunion.”

Soda raised his eyebrows. “We?” 

Tim took a drag of his cigarette, “Sure, me and my boys would back you.”

Soda could almost picture it, him, Pony, Steve, and Two-Bit alongside Tim and his guys, there wouldn’t be a Soc in Tulsa who could take them, even without Darry.

But apparently, Steve didn’t agree. “What’s the catch, Shepard?” Steve said, voice hard.

Tim threw his friend an annoyed look that would send most boys running, but Steve wasn’t most boys, that was one of the things Soda liked about him. “Who said anything about a catch?”

“Oh come on Tim, this ain’t the Wizard of Oz or something. You already fixed the truck up for us, now you offering to help us with the Socs? What do you want?”

Tim turned to face him, towering over Steve, but his friend just held his gaze.“Same as you, those assholes have it coming. Ain’t that enough?”

“Not when it might land your ass in prison. Don’t play dumb, we know you been trying to keep your nose clean.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, and for a minute, Soda thought that famous Shepard temper would get the best of him, but the older boy shook his head and backed off, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

“Darry’s helped me out before with Curly and Angela. Didn’t have to do that. I owe him, and I don’t like owing people. This’ll make us even.”

That caught Soda off guard. He hadn’t even known that Darry and Tim had ever hung out, but lately, he couldn’t help but feel like there was a lot Darry kept from him, even if that wasn’t entirely fair.

He wanted to take Tim up on his offer, it was on the tip of his tongue. Ever since Paul cornered them at the drive-in, Soda was itching for a fight. Darry might have taken up this new pacifist life, but he hadn’t signed up for that. All this had started with fist, as far as he was concerned, it’d be best ended with them, too.

But just as he was about to agree, he found he couldn’t. Darry had been so against getting in a fight the other night, and maybe he was right. Maybe there were other ways to settle this besides with switchblades in an abandoned lot.

So he sighed and slumped against the side of the gas pump. “I appreciate, Tim, I do, but I’m not sure how good of an idea it is.”

He expected Steve to put up a fight but was shocked when his friend nodded, leaning against the pumps with a relaxed air that hadn’t been there before.

Tim didn’t say anything, just flicked the rest of his cigarette away and pulled out his wallet, handing Soda the cash for the gas.

“Your call, man, it’s your brother. But I’m serious. You change your mind, here’s my number. Call and we’ll set something up, yeah?”

Soda looked in his hand and saw the number written on the back of a receipt, handwriting nearly illegible.

Tim gave them that strange smile again and said, “See ya around boys,” and was gone, tearing down the road, kicking up the dust in the DX parking lot.

“Good call, man,” Steve said, and Soda turned to him, surprised.

“I figured you’d be gunning for a fight,” Soda said.

But Steve just shrugged. “Normally, maybe, but after seeing Darry the other night at the drive-in, I don’t know. Something about it just don’t feel right.”

Soda nodded and turned back to watch as Tim’s Galaxie disappeared in the distance, but despite what Steve said, he couldn’t shake the feeling that letting him drive away was a mistake.

When Soda got home that afternoon he was surprised to find Darry there, sitting in his recliner, reading his old beat up copy of Catcher in the Rye.

“What are you doing home? You feeling that bad?” 

Darry gave him a slight smile. “Nah, had some problems with a contractor, we got to come home early.”

But Soda wasn’t buying it. Darry always filled his half days with things he needed to do around the house; sweeping the floors, starting dinner, mowing the grass, just like their dad used to do whenever he got to come home early. Darry hardly took a minute to sit down, and certainly not to read. He hadn’t seen him do that since high school.

Soda stepped over to place a hand on his forehead, despite Darry’s attempts to swat him away.

“You feel warm,” He muttered.

Darry rolled his eyes, “It’s a hundred degrees out, what do you expect?”

Soda studied him for a minute, but Darry wouldn’t meet his gaze. They’d been off since the night at the drive-in and Soda wasn’t quite sure why. They weren’t fighting, per se, but they seemed out of step with each other in a way Soda hadn’t felt since before their parents died. Maybe it was the harsh words Soda had lodged at Darry after the would-be-fight that left his brother sour, or perhaps it was how much Darry had told him afterward when his brother preferred to keep things close to his chest that left the awkward air. 

Whatever it was Soda wasn’t sure how to fix it, and he didn’t think Darry did either, so instead he said, “You hungry? I can whip us something up.”

Darry shook his head. “I’m good, fix something for Pony though, he’s out running with some of his track buddies, you know how hungry that kid gets after a run.”

That was the final nail in the coffin. Because Darry not eating? Unheard of. His brother could always eat, especially after work. He didn’t comment on it though, just decided to make some extra and hope he could convince him to eat some anyway. Instead, he said, “He’s running in this heat? Glory, the kid’s gunning for a heat stroke.”

Darry’s smile was a little more genuine for the first time in what felt like days. “He mentioned his coach called him up, gave him some extra workouts to do before school starts next month. If we can get him to quit smoking, I think he’s got a real shot at winning his state meet this year.”

Soda nodded, glad that Darry was excited about something, and Pony too for that matter, because he could never make heads or tails of the whole sports thing. Sure, it was fun to sit around and watch the big game on Sundays, but he just didn’t understand the appeal of running around for an hour and making yourself all sweaty and uncomfortable just to have to do it all over again the next day. But both his brothers seemed to love it, so who was he to judge?

He’d just turned on the stove when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Neither one of them moved, just sat there, frozen in shock, staring at it like it must be some mistake.

“Is that someone at the door?” Soda said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

Darry nodded. “I think so.”

No one knocked on the door, at least, no one good. They had a bit of a bad track record with doors. The last person who knocked on their door was a police officer asking where Pony was the night of Bob’s murder; before that, another officer telling them their parents were dead. Soda hated the sound, sometimes the echo of it haunted his nightmares, the pounding of knuckles against the aluminum, waking him up gasping for breath.

“Is Mrs. Miller stopping by?” Soda asked.

Darry shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

There was another knock, more insistent this time, and Darry sighed and stood up, limping over towards the door. Soda watched as he pulled himself together; standing up straighter, brushing the dirt off the front of his shirt, and pushing his hair back. The only thing he couldn’t quite hide was the way his hand shook as he grabbed the knob.

He opened it, and Soda thought his knees might have buckled if not for the countertop there to prop him up because standing on the other side was another cop, a bear of a man towering over Darry. Soda’s ears started ringing as his mind flashed through every possible scenario for what might be wrong. Had something happened to Pony? Had he gotten hurt? Had someone else died? Panic welled up in his chest, threatening to consume him, and for a second, he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. But somewhere in the chaos of his mind, he finally picked up on what his brother was saying, and it brought all his thoughts to a screeching halt. Because, somehow, it was far worse than anything he could have imagined.

“Chief Holden, how are you this evening?”

Then suddenly, Soda could see the man’s resemblance with Paul. The turn of his jaw, the tilt of his nose, the shape of his brow. But there was something in his eyes that Paul didn’t have, something angry and menacing that frightened Soda to his very core.

“Evening Darrel,” Chief Holden said, spitting out his brother’s name like a curse, but Darry just smiled. Soda didn’t know how he did that.

Darry made a show of checking the time on his watch before turning his attention back to the police chief. “Do you always make house calls off the clock, Chief Holden?”

The older man’s expression soured. “When a case warrants it, I do. Justice doesn’t take time off, boy.”

Darry scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s what you are, a harborer of justice.”

Soda looked at Darry in shock, surprised by his brother’s bite. Especially now, and especially with the man who could do him so much harm.

It seems like Chief Holden felt the same. His hand tightened into a fist at his side, and for a brief moment, Soda thought he might hit Darry. There was an unsteadiness to his gait that made Soda uneasy, and he felt it wouldn’t take much to push the man over the edge.

But he seemed to remember himself, because the chief glanced in Soda’s direction, and the hand at his side loosened.  He grunted and continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard about the robbery down at The Brewclub.”

Darry tilted his head. “Just the usual rumor mill, not much else. Not really my kinda place, a little too rich for my blood.”

Chief Holden studied him for a moment, then said, “A good deal of stuff was stolen, and lots of damage to the building done. It’ll be months before Mr. Smith can open back up again.”

Darry shook his head. “That’s a shame. Mr. Smith’s a good man from what I understand.”

Chief Holden nodded. “Enough was stolen for this to be considered grand theft, which is no small crime, mind you. Someone could spend a lot of time in jail for that.”

Soda’s heart started pounding. Grand theft? Soda wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good.

But Darry was somehow still unfazed. “Well good, whoever did all that damage deserves jail time. It’s not right to go after a business like that.”

Chief Holden gave him a wicked smile that sent a shiver down Soda’s spine. “I agree. So I hope this means you’ll have no objection to coming into the station next week for an interview.”

Darry studied him for a long time watching as the older man shifted his weight. Soda wasn’t sure what Darry was playing at, but for some strange reason, it seemed to unsettle the old man, “On what grounds? Like I said, I don’t spend a whole lot of time out that way.”

Chief Holden rested his hands on his belt, “We think you might have some information relevant to the case.”

“And if I refuse?”

Chief Holden took a step closer into Darry’s space, but his brother held his ground. “Then I can make things a lot more difficult for you.”

Soda watched Darry’s eyes shift back and forth, studying the chief’s expression. He wondered what was going through his brother’s mind. “You know, there’s somebody else you might want to talk to.” There was a dangerous edge to Darry’s tone that made Soda nervous.

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s that, boy?”

Darry gave him a lazy smile. “Paul. He’s always bumming around that place. Has been since high school.  Might know somebody who was there that night, or seen something. I mean, he did drop out of Oklahoma, right? So he’s got plenty of time now that he’s home.” 

Time seemed to stand still as silence stretched between them. It was like Darry had crossed some sort of unspeakable line between the two of them by bringing up his son. Chief Holden stared at Darry, slack-jawed, but Darry didn’t back down. This was the brother Soda always remembered, the one with an easy smile but a sharp tongue. He couldn’t help but feel a little pride at his brother holding his own with the man.

Then, in a blink, the Chief snapped, a rage in his expression that made Soda take a step back, and before he could understand what was going on, he was shoving Darry into the wall, pushing his forearm against Darry’s throat.

Darry’s eyes were wide, his face panic stricken as the older man pushed down on him, cutting off his air.

Soda stared in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Chief Holden had a wild look in his eye, like a bear going in for the kill.

“You know how easy it would be kid?” Officer Holden said, voice low, “For me to end this right here, say you attacked me? Say you made yourself difficult, there’s no one here but you and me.”

Darry’s eyes flicked over at Soda, who stood frozen a few feet away, unable to will his legs to move. Chief Holden laughed.

“What? You think they’re gonna believe some Greaser kid over a cop? You’d be dead and no one would give a damn.”

That awoke something in Soda. “Get the hell away from him!” He screamed, running over to push the man off. 

Chief Holden stumbled back and fell into the door frame. Slowly he seemed to be coming back to himself. The room felt like it was closing in on the three of them, the only sound breaking the silence was Darry gasping for breath.

Chief Holden watched Darry struggle, and his face flickered with an expression Soda couldn’t name, but it was gone just as quickly. He nodded his head and rested his hands on his belt again. 

“Right. One o’clock, Tuesday. Don’t be late.”

And with that he stepped back out the same way he barged in, leaving the ruins of Soda and Darry in his wake.

They stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the now shut door, and Soda tried to make sense of what just happened. “Well, he’s swell.”

He turned to Darry, but the panic hadn’t left his eyes, he was still clawing at his throat like there was something there.

“Dar?”

“I can’t— breathe,” He said, his voice was desperate, ragged, his breath coming in short gasps, and for a minute, Soda thought Chief Holden had done something more permeant to him, left him bruised and broken in some way. 

Soda rushed to Darry’s side. “What? Darry, what’s happening? Come on man, you’re scaring me.”

Darry looked at him, eyes wide and wild, but it was like he wasn’t seeing him. His gaze was glassy and seemed unable to settle. Soda reached out to grab his shoulder but he flinched at the touch.

“Stop!” He yelled, and Soda stepped back.

Soda was reminded of the day Two-Bit and Steve showed them the truck, Darry had seemed far away then, now he seemed impossible to reach.

Soda tried to keep his voice calm, despite his heart pounding in his chest, and said, “Dar, you’re okay, it’s alright, I need you to breathe for me buddy, yeah?” 

“I—I can’t.”

“That’s alright, Darry. You remember that trick they got us to do with Pony in the hospital? The one when he got all panicked? Let’s just try that, yeah?” It’d worked when Pony woke up with nightmares thinking he was trapped in that church fire again, air replaced with smoke. Maybe it could help Darry, too. Soda wasn’t sure what he’d do if it didn’t.

But Darry shook his head. “I can’t,” he said again, breathing ragged.

“That’s alright, just follow my lead, okay? In one-two-three, out one-two-three,” Soda didn’t know how long they stood there, just breathing, but finally, piece by piece, Darry seemed to come back to himself. He blinked, dazed, but when he looked at Soda, his gaze was more settled.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

Soda just smiled. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Darry ran a shaking hand through his hair, “Do I have to?”

He reminded him so much of Pony in that moment that Soda nearly laughed.

“No,” He said, same as he always told Pony, “But it’ll make you feel better if you do.”

Darry leaned against the wall, pressing his fingers against his temples as if to fight off a headache. Soda reached out to put his hand on his shoulder, and this time, he didn’t flinch away. Soda could feel the warmth of his skin and wondered how high his fever was.

“It’s nothing, just took me back, I guess. I couldn’t breathe and he—”

Darry paused, and Soda wasn’t sure he’d make it to the end of the sentence on his own. “Yeah?”

He shrugged. “They just look alike, you know? Him and Paul.”

The thought made Soda nauseous. Darry never talked about getting jumped. The map of his injuries was written out on his skin and left some of the horrors obvious, but there was something about Darry saying it, that Paul choked him, the reminder of how far his former best friend had fallen, that left Soda haunted in a way he hadn’t been since that night.

“Darry—”

But his brother shook his head and pushed off the wall, moving like a man four times his age. He gave Soda a smile, but it seemed tired.

“I think I’m gonna hop in the shower before Pony gets back, just wash the grime of the day off, you know?”

Soda nodded and watched him walk down the hall, wishing there was something he could do to help.

He slumped against the wall vacated by Darry, trying to steady his own breathing, and stuck his shaking hands in his pockets. He was surprised by the crumpled paper he felt there.

He pulled it out to see Tim Shepard’s abhorrent handwriting scrawled across a receipt.

Soda heard Darry turn the water on, and a second later, the shower curtain pulled shut.

He could hear the unevenness of Darry’s breathing in the shower, knew it was the tears he wouldn’t let fall when he thought his brother could see. He’d done the same thing after their parents died, after Pony ran away, and the day after he’d gotten jumped.

He stared at the number in hand, thinking, wondering.

Soda had never been able to help Darry through any of this, it’d always been the other way around. Darry sat with him and his grief after their parents died, stayed up with him all night when Pony ran away and he couldn’t sleep. Even after getting jumped, Darry seemed to be the one keeping it together, not letting them take him to the hospital, getting back to work in just a few days. Never once stopping, always making sure that his brothers were happy and cared for.

And through all of that pain, Soda felt like he’d failed Darry over and over again. Because who did Darry have left to go to? He’d never talk to his brothers about it, he felt like he had to be strong for them. Same with the rest of the gang because Superman couldn’t stumble. Once upon a time, he would have talked to Paul, but the other boy had twisted that friendship into something warped and angry, and Soda knew that all Paul brought him now was pain.

So Soda stared at the number scrawled in magic marker and thought it over, rolling the options around in his head. Maybe he couldn’t take his brother’s pain away, maybe he couldn’t lighten the load life had put on him. But there was a chance he could cut some of it off at the source, keep Darry safe from the people who threatened to take everything away from him. And didn’t Darry deserve at least that much?

So he walked over to the phone and picked it up, listened to the dial tone buzz in his ear, then dialed the numbers in from the receipt.

It rang once, twice, three times before he heard a gruff. “Better be good.”

“Tim, it’s Soda, I changed my mind. I think I’d like to make a little trouble after all.”

Chapter Text

The Curtis parents hadn’t been overly strict on the boys growing up. They’d been firm but fair when disciplining them, and the rules they laid out made sense. However, there was one rule that wasn’t up for discussion as far as their mom was concerned: on weeknights the family all sat down and ate dinner together.

There were exceptions to this, of course. When Darry played football on Fridays, their family dinners moved to the bleachers to cheer him on. And on some occasions, it was simply impossible for their dad to get off work, either because there was some emergency that came up at a job site, or money was tight and they needed him to work overtime for the extra cash. Their mom was never a tyrant and understood that life sometimes happens. But barring anything catastrophic or school related, the Curtis men were expected to be at the dinner table, six o’clock sharp, and they were to have a civilized meal, or as civilized as three boys under the age of eighteen could be.

It was a tradition Darry carried over after their parents died. The one time Soda had skipped, about a month after their death when raising hell felt easier than dealing with their loss, Darry had chewed him out for so long and looked so disappointed in him that he felt like their mom’s ghost had possessed their brother just to tell him how upset she was.

That didn’t mean the food was any good though, it took them months to be able to make anything edible. Like Darry’s infamous attempt at Mom’s tuna fish casserole that made the whole house smell like a bad fish market for a week. Or the time Pony was making spaghetti and nearly burned the house down because he forgot the boiling pot of water on the stove for so long that the pot started melting into the burner. Or the mashed potatoes Soda made that tasted so rancid he put food coloring in them just to see if it would work as a distraction (it did not, but Soda did find a new love for cooking with color, so it was still a win in his book).

It was six o’clock on a Tuesday night, so Soda and Pony were sitting where they sat every other Tuesday night for as long as they could remember, the only thing they were missing was Darry.

“You think his interview down at the police station went okay?” Pony asked, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

“I’m sure it did kid, he’d call if something happened.”

He kept his voice even and his smile lazy, but that didn’t stop the nerves building in his chest as his mind kept jumping to the worst case scenario. They would let him call, right, if he did get arrested? They always got one phone call in the movies. But what if he’d called while they were out, and he wasn’t allowed any more calls? He’d just be in jail forever and Soda and Pony would never be able to see him again.

He was cut off from this grim line of thinking when the front door opened, a harried Darry rushing in.

“Woah, where’s the fire, Dar?” Soda said.

Darry shook his head, taking off his boots and heading towards the kitchen. “Sorry guys, had to put in overtime to make up for missing half the day. Looks real good, Pony. We haven’t had meatloaf in forever.”

Darry grabbed a drink out of the fridge before joining his brothers at the table; a clear sign that the day had taken its toll.

Soda figured the best course of action was to keep things light. “Well, you gonna keep us in suspense all night or you gonna tell us how your date with Chief Holden went?” 

Darry rolled his eyes.”He didn’t make it to second base or nothing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Soda let out a surprised laugh, but Pony scrunched up his face.

“Gross, that’s an image of Paul’s dad I didn’t need.”

“Come on Dar, spill. What happened? Did they shine a light in your face like they do in all the movies? Play good cop bad cop? Threaten to throw you in the slammer?”

Darry waved him off, putting ketchup on his meatloaf. “No, none of that, just took me to some room, asked questions, where was I, have I ever been to the bar, do I know Mr. Smith personally, what’s my favorite color. Those sorts of things.”

“Did they tell you why they called you in? What’s connecting you to the robbery?” Pony asked.

Darry shrugged. “Mentioned a truck once or twice, got the feeling they have no proof it was mine, though.”

Pony and Soda shared a worried expression that Darry caught, and he sighed. “Guys, I swear, it was fine. A big waste of time honestly, so there’s no point in dwelling on it. What about you, Pony. How’d practice with Coach Clark go?”

Pony glanced over at Soda, who sighed and nodded his head. Soda knew Darry was just as worried as the two of them, but he wouldn’t talk about it, not now. And they’d have a better chance of getting Darry to do the waltz than talk about something when he didn’t want to.

“It went real good, he said he can tell a lot of improvement from last year, so the summer workouts must be helping.”

Darry smiled around the bite he’d just taken. He swallowed and said, “That’s real good kid. I was just saying to Soda the other day, if you keep it up I think you got a real shot at state this year. Who was the kid that beat you last time? Anthony something?”

Pony frowned, thinking, “Peter Anthony I think.”

“Yeah him. He was a senior last year, so he’ll be gone, and no one else’s 400-meter time even came close to yours. I’m telling you, we’ll be putting your first place trophy on the mantle in just a few months.”

Pony scoffed. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Dar. You don’t know how good the freshmen are going to be, one of them could be The Flash or something.”

But Darry shook his head. “They’re just freshman, they’re never any good.”

“But I was good! I came in second.”

Darry smiled, “Yeah, but you got those Curtis genes, that makes you superhuman.”

“Hey, I got Curtis genes, why ain’t I any good at sports?” Soda pipped.

Darry gave him a look. “‘Cause you don’t use them for sports, you use them to get a date with every girl on the East Side.”

Soda gave him a wide grin. “Oh, yeah, that’s a much better use of them anyways.”

Pony brought the conversation back on track. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. One of the seniors had to drop out of the summer invitational this year, so Coach asked if I wanted to tag along.”

Darry looked at him, a big grin on his face. “Pony, that’s huge! And you’re going as a Sophomore? I’m telling you, kid, they’ll make a track star out of you yet.”

Soda frowned between the two of them. “What’s the summer invitational?”

“A big track meet held by all the local schools. It’s usually just upperclassmen, but like I said, one of the guys had to drop out, so Coach is taking me.”

“All the scouts for the colleges are there, it’s a great way to throw your hat in the ring,” Darry added, smiling over at Pony. “And those guys love seeing how athletes progress through their high school career. I’m real proud of you, Pone. This is a really big deal.”

Pony waved him off, but he couldn’t quite stop the smile spreading across his own face. “It ain’t nothing Dar, honest. But it’s this Friday, so I won’t be here for dinner.”

“Guess we’ll have to muddle through Soda’s attempts at mashed potatoes without you.”

“Hey, I’ve perfected the art form of mashed potatoes. They’re the perfect consistency, just the right amount of fluff, the essence of sour cream flavoring each bite.”

“And also green.”

“Well yeah, what color would you prefer?”

“Actually,” Pony cut in. “Coach said we could invite a guest to come cheer us on.” 

Darry nodded. “Sounds good, what time are you and Soda heading out?”

Soda’s heart flipped in his chest. He couldn’t go this Friday, that was the night he and Tim were going out to stir up some trouble with Paul. He certainly wasn’t going to let his brothers in on his plans, but he didn’t know how to get out of it without hurting Pony’s feelings. But it turned out, he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to tag along.”

Darry’s head whipped up from his plate and he stared at Pony, eyes wide, and said, “Me?”

Pony nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, Soda’s kinda the worst at these things. He gets bored and wanders off to talk up some girl, and by the time he’s back he’s missed my whole event.” He shot Soda an apologetic look. “No offense.”

Soda waved him off, “No, it’s true. I gotta flex my Curtis genes too you know.”

Darry kept looking between them as if waiting for something. “And you’re sure you want me to go, there’s no one else?” There was a gentleness to his tone that made Soda really look at him for the first time, and he could see the hope he was afraid to grasp onto.

Pony tilted his head. “Sure. You’re the only person I know who actually likes track.” And then, something must have dawned on the kid, because suddenly his eyes went wide and he looked at Darry with worry. “Unless you can’t get off work or something, I didn’t even think about that. Forget I said anything.”

But now Darry’s own expression looked equally panicked. “What? No. Are you kidding me? If you want me there of course I’ll come. I just figured…”

You wouldn’t want me to hung in the air as Darry quickly shoved another bite of meatloaf in his mouth, stopping himself from finishing his sentence, as if he realized what he was about to say. Pony gave him a sad look, but seemed just as lost as his brother. They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say, so Soda figured he’d throw them a bone. 

“I’m sorry, did you two forget that the sport is literally just running around in a circle? I think I’m the only sane one at the table,” Soda said, smile on his face. 

Pony scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “You just don’t get it, Soda, it’s gonna be real tuff. Our four-by-four team is getting real good at passing the baton. Speaking of, I was gonna ask you, Dar…”

Soda sat and listened to his brothers go back and forth on strategies and smiled. Maybe the two of them would be okay after all.

Darry didn’t say it, not in words at least, but Soda could tell he was over the moon that Pony had invited him to his track meet. He’d been in a good mood all week, like something sharp in him had been smoothed down.

He’d even gone so far as to buy himself a new dress shirt, Soda noticed when he was getting ready Friday afternoon.

“You look real tuff, Dar. Can’t believe you bought something new.”

Darry rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well, I don’t want to embarrass the kid, and Dad’s are starting to look a little old.” Neither one of them mentioned the one that’d been ruined when he was jumped.

“What time will y’all be back?”

Darry shrugged. “Not sure. I was planning on taking him out for ice cream after, I can call the house when we’re heading that way if you want to come.”

But Soda shook his head, he had no idea how long the rumble with Paul would last, and he’d need all the time he could get. “Nah, me and Steve are heading to the races. You guys have fun though.”

Darry looked up from the buttons on his shirt. “Really? You don’t want to come? It’s a big deal for Pony.”

“Next time, okay? I’d already had plans with Steve, don’t want to back out on him now.”

Darry studied Soda for a long time, long enough that he started to squirm. “Dar, you gotta quit, you’re freaking me out man.”

Darry tilted his head. “Is everything okay?”

“What, why?”

“You just seem off.”

Soda rolled his eyes and tried to keep his voice even. “Will you relax? You know normally I’d be there, but I’ve had these plans with Steve for months, it wouldn’t be cool for me to skip out on him last minute. There will be other track meets.”

Darry studied him for another moment, and for a second, he thought his older brother wasn’t going to let it go. He wasn’t sure how Darry did that, seemed to read him like nobody else. But then, he shook his head, smiling.

“Yeah, alright, but you two be safe. Call if you’re going to be late, alright?”

Soda smiled and waved him off. “Tell Pony good luck for me!”

Darry left, and Soda felt like he could breathe for the first time. He was supposed to meet Tim in half an hour. So he figured he might as well start heading that way.

Everyone had different ways of getting ready for a rumble. Steve smoked like a chimney for hours beforehand claiming it calmed his nerves. Two-Bit would go on and on about some action movie, usually Bruce Lee, but lately James Bond, telling the others about all the tuff moves he’d learned from watching them. Darry got real quiet and tense, if you so much as looked at him the wrong way you were asking to get on the wrong side of his temper. And Pony, well, the jury was still out on him. He’d only ever been in the one rumble, and the kid had been so geeked up from everything that had happened that he’d hardly known if he was coming or going.

As for Soda, he always had too much pent up energy he needed to shake out, so he liked to get moving. If he knew he had a big rumble coming up (because these things weren’t always so civilized and planned out) he’d walk almost anywhere. To work, the grocery store, around the block a few times, or, like today, over to Tim’s house to meet him.

There was something about it, the fresh air filling his lungs, the gentle hum of the cicadas in the air, even the loneliness of it, that steadied his mind and kept him focused. And he needed to keep his cool if he was going to take on Paul. Otherwise, he might get sloppy.

He knocked on the older boy’s door right on time, only to be met with the sound of a dog barking and the sharp yell of someone, Tim probably, shouting “Shut up Spot!”

When the older boy opened the door, he looked around. It was strange, standing on the front porch of Tim’s home, almost domestic in a weird way. Guys like Tim Shepard were supposed to live in tiny crappy apartments above a bar, not have a dog and two siblings to watch out for. But that was the strangeness of living on the East Side.

Tim finally settled his gaze on Soda. “What, you didn’t bring along your crew?”

Soda shook his head. “Didn’t think I had to, you said you’d back me.”

Tim narrowed his gaze. “Two-Bit seemed like he was gunning for a fight when he told me about your brother, surprised he didn’t jump at the idea of getting even.”

Soda shrugged. The truth was, he hadn’t told any of the guys about his plans, not even Steve. He felt guilty, in a way, going off without them, but he didn’t want to risk any of them getting caught in the crossfire of whatever happened that night. If something happened, Soda would never forgive himself.

But he certainly wasn’t going to say that to Tim. Instead, he crossed his arms and prayed he looked tuff. “What? Is this gonna be a problem or something?”

Tim shook his head. “Not for me, there’s enough of us to take them.”

Soda nodded. “Then let’s quit standing around and go do something about it, yeah?”

The bar that Paul and his buddies bummed around was not at all what Soda was expecting for a group of Socs. It was like Buck’s, in a way, only worse. Sitting at the crossroads between Baldwin and Monroe, he could tell it had been a nice place in its prime. But now, the once white paint had faded into the same dingy grey as the gravel in the lot, and the green shingles that lined the windows were rain-rotted and drooping. The whole building seemed to be slumped downward, like a man who had just heaved a weary sigh. 

Soda knew this kind of place, the East Side was filled with them. It was the kind of place where you snuck in to get your first crappy beer before you turned eighteen because the bartender wouldn’t ask too many questions, or where you got hustled in pool if you were dumb enough to play with the wrong people. 

But more important than all of this, it was the kind of place that wouldn’t mind a rumble breaking out in their parking lot, as long as you kept to yourselves.

“What’s a group of Socs doing hanging out here anyways?” Soda asked. 

Tim shrugged. They were sitting in his Galaxie, waiting for the Socs to come outside. The other four guys in Tim’s gang were sitting in Curly’s car, Soda could see the cigarette smoke pluming out of the rolled down windows. “Because it’s outside of the city limits is what I figure.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“This falls under county police, not city. They tend to turn the other cheek if you wanna raise a little hell.”

“Since when do Socs raise the kind of hell that gets the police involved?”

Tim shrugged again. “Not the Socs so much as this Paul guy. This thing with Darry isn’t the first time I’ve heard his name come up, you know. There’s been some rumblings about him all summer.”

Soda nodded, filing the information away for later. The more he learned about Paul, the more he wondered how he and Darry had ever been close.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

Soda glanced at him, “What’d ya mean?”

“We fighting dirty, or are we just roughing them up a little?”

Soda thought about it, remembered Darry’s own injuries, the cuts that could have only come from a switchblade. He wanted desperately to say yes, could feel the weight of his own blade in his pocket, his fingers itched to pull it out. 

But another memory flashed in his mind: Johnny with his blade, that Bob kid dead, Ponyboy on the run, the constant fear that they may never see their brother again. He just couldn’t risk doing that to his brothers, he wasn’t sure Darry could go through that again.

So he shook his head. “Just keep it fair, no blades, I’m not looking to bury any bodies after this.”

Tim nodded. “Probably for the best, last thing I need is Curly back in the reformatory.”

They sat in silence, letting the warm air of the evening breeze through the rolled down windows. Then, just as the sun was beginning to set in the sky, Soda saw Tim stiffen up. He nodded his head towards the door.

“Looks like it’s showtime.”

The boys came stumbling out of the bar. A few drinks in and a little unsteady on their feet, but no worse for wear.

And there, in the center of it all, walked Paul Holden, smiling bright as he laughed along with his friends, looking like a man on top of the world.

Soda was supposed to follow Tim’s lead, that had been the plan. But seeing Paul there, laughing, a lightness in his step, all Soda could do was remember. Darry in that phone booth, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the bruises that painted his skin. The misery his brother had to fight off everyday sense. He felt so angry he could hardly breathe, and in a blink, he was bolting from the car and tearing across the parking lot, unsure of what, exactly, he was going to do, but knowing he had to do something.

“Guess we’re going now,” Tim muttered.

The slam of the car door cracked through the quiet parking lot and Soda said, “I’m surprised you have time to go out for drinks with how you’ve been harassing my brother.”

Paul and his friends turned, startled, but as soon as Paul locked eyes on Soda, his expression soured.

“Is this another one of those guys from college?” One of the boys standing next to Paul asked he was bigger, towering over his friend. He seemed vaguely familiar to Soda.

Paul shook his head, “He’s Darrel’s little brother.”

The atmosphere shifted at the mention of Darry, it was strange to watch. Some of the faces grew angry like Paul’s, but a couple of their expressions, like the tall boy, shifted to something Soda could only describe as remorse.

“How’s Darry doing, anyways?” The boy asked, a worry there that gave Soda pause. But Paul elbowed him.

“Shut up, William,” Paul said. The name sparked Soda’s memory, he’d been on the football team with Darry and Paul, he’d played defense. Darry had always liked him.

“So what’s this?” Paul continued, “Darry can’t handle himself so he’s gotta send his baby brother out to protect him?”

But it was Tim’s turn to answer. “Nah, we’re just here to teach you a lesson. Remind you boys what happens when you come after one of our own.”

They heard a scoff. “That’s rich coming from the guys that killed Bob,” One of the other Socs said. Soda heard the rest murmur in agreement.

Soda rolled his eyes. “Like you guys ever gave a shit about Bob. What’s that got to do with Darry anyway?”

The same Soc crossed his arms and scowled. “It was his little brother that killed him, that’s what.”

There was a buzz in Soda’s ears as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “The only reason Bob’s dead is because he tried to kill our little brother. And you know what? You boys would be dead too if you knew how to fight fair instead of six on one like a bunch of cowards.”

The boy’s fist tightened, but his expression looked a little less certain as he glanced towards Paul. “We ain’t cowards, kid. We were just trying to even the score. Darry got what was coming to him.”

“But Darry was your friend, right? He thought so, at least, and then you guys just rough him up and leave him for dead? Wreck The Brewclub, then pin it on him?”

William blinked. “Wreck The Brewclub? What’s he talking about, Paul?”

But if Paul heard him, he ignored it. “It’s Darry’s choices that got him where he is, kid, don’t blame that on us. I mean, you Greasers are all the same anyways, you either die young or end up rotting away in a jail cell somewhere. Looks like Darry’s just getting a head start.”

The words cut through Soda worse than a blade ever could. He stepped towards Paul, and kept his voice low as he said, “Maybe we’re just Greasers, but at least our mom didn’t hate us so much she ran out on us.”

Paul’s expression shifted into something broken. Quietly, so quiet Soda didn’t think anyone else in the parking lot heard it, he said, “He told you?” 

For a brief moment, guilt flashed through Soda, maybe he’d taken it too far. But then he remembered all this boy had done to Darry and all the ways he stood to ruin him still.

So Soda pushed away the guilt and shrugged, giving Paul an easy smile. “Yeah, he said he was surprised she stuck around as long as she did, you always were an obnoxious piece of shit.”

Paul’s expression morphed into something angry and twisted, and he threw a punch hard into Soda’s jaw, so hard it nearly knocked him to the ground, and with that, the fight was on.

Paul may have gotten the first punch in, but Soda was fast. He whipped around before the other boy could so much as blink with a fist of his own, knocking him hard in the mouth. 

Somewhere, distantly, he heard Tim let out a yelp of excitement, could hear Curly howling like a wolf going in for the kill. Those boys lived for fighting, looked for any excuse they could to get themselves into a brawl.

Soda could be that way too, sometimes. But this fight was different, he wasn’t doing it for fun, or to blow off steam. Or even because the Socs had it coming to them.

He hated Paul in a way he’d never hated anyone. It coursed through his veins like a drug, he could feel it in every punch he threw, every time his knuckles connected with the older boy's flesh. He hated the way Paul looked at them, with his smug smile and his head held high. Hated the way he turned on his brother, hated the way he tried to take Darry away from them.

Soda only knew one way to fight, and that was dirty. He knocked Paul off balance, heard him cry out as he landed hard on the gravel. Before he could regain his bearings Soda was a flurry of fists, knocking the boy anywhere he could make contact, nose, stomach, arms, legs.

But where Soda had anger and quickness on his side, Paul had an undeniable skill and a great deal of weight on his. His fighting reminded Soda of Darry so much it was almost unsettling. And before he knew it, the older boy had managed to flip them over, getting the upper hand, and began raining down punches wherever he could.

Soda screamed and shoved the older boy off with all his might, scurrying away as he tried to orient himself. 

“Why can’t you just leave my family alone!” Soda said, voice tinged with a desperation he had never intended to let Paul hear.

But Paul had no answer, or if he did, didn’t feel like sharing it with Soda. Instead, he just pounced again, and their dance continued on, scuffed knees and busted noses, gravel digging into their skin. Paul’s fist connected with his eye, then Soda pulled the other boy’s hair so hard he could feel strands rip away from his scalp.

Distantly, he thought he heard someone holler something, it was Tim, maybe, but Soda paid him no mind. Nor did he notice the flurry of the other boys sprinting away. Paul had managed to shove him to the ground and was on top of him now, pressing his knees hard into Soda’s wrist.

Soda was trapped.

“Darry squirmed like this too, you know, when he started losing. It took all six of us to get him down. But you? It looks like it only takes one Soc, huh?”

Soda screamed, trying to get some leverage, but it was no use. He felt the pressure ease off his shoulders, and for a moment, he thought Paul was going to let him go, but when he looked up, he saw the sharp glint of a silver knife catching the moonlight. Soda gasped, desperate to get away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“I could do it, you know,” Paul said, Soda could feel the sharp bite of the blade pressed against his neck. Soda felt the weight of his own blade in his pocket, practically burning his skin. He wished desperately he could reach for it, but no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t get his hand free.

“What do you think that would do to Darry, huh? Knowing his little brother came to fight for his honor, only to get killed for it.”

But Soda couldn’t think straight, his heart hammered in his chest. Is this how Pony felt, he wondered, when they tried to drown him in that fountain? How Darry felt when Paul choked him?

And then it hit him harder than any of the punches Paul had dealt; he was going to die here, in the dirty gravel parking lot of some crappy bar, sweat soaked and blood stained, at the hands of his brother’s former best friend. 

He felt the blade press down, enough that Soda was afraid to move, but then he heard another voice, older and gruff say, “Put the knife down, son.” 

The pressure stayed on his neck, and for a moment, he thought Paul was going to ignore them. Then the knife was gone, a second later, the pressure was off his wrist, and finally, Soda could breathe.

He opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh light. It took him a moment to orient himself, then he realized why all the other boys had run. Standing above him were two cops, one holding Paul back, the other staring down at Soda, expression firm.

Soda leaned to the side and threw up.

When he finally finished, the officer offered him a hand and said, “Why don’t we take you boys down to the station to cool off, huh?”As if they had any choice in the matter.

They led them towards the police car and Soda took a deep breath. The adrenaline was just beginning to wear off, and as he looked around, the flashing red and blue lights making him dizzy, he realized what a mess he’d gotten himself into.

If he made it through the night, Darry was going to kill him.

Chapter Text

Soda sat in the waiting room of the police station with an ice bag over his swollen left eye. Paul was in the chair across from him, nose busted and hair askew, staring hard at the floor between them.

They’d been there for hours being questioned, filling out forms, getting lectured on the dangers of fighting by the cops (their names were Officer Jones and Officer Davis, Soda learned somewhere along the way), but with no real witnesses, they said there wasn’t really much they could do.

The room was silent as the officers filled out the paperwork to send them home, that was until they found out who Paul was.

“Wait, you’re Paul Holden?” Officer Jones said.

Paul squinted his eyes, Soda figured he was trying to look tuff, but he couldn’t quite pull it off with his usually quaffed hair standing straight up on his head like he’d just stuck his finger in a light socket. “Yeah, so what?”

Officer Jones glanced back at Officer Davis and sighed, “Your dad’s not Chief Holden, is he?”

If possible, Paul’s face became even paler. “What about it?”

Officer Jones swore and rubbed his temples as if fighting off a headache. He turned his head towards Soda, “What about you kid? Your dad the mayor of Tulsa or something?” 

Soda shook his head, “No sir.” He was trying to sit up straight and look presentable, Darry always said that was the best bet when dealing with the cops, but the lights in the station were giving him a headache something fierce.

“Alright then, give me both of your parent's numbers, I’ll call them down here to pick you boys up, and barring any other issues you’re both free to go.”

But Paul, apparently, disagreed.“No way, man. I’m an adult, if you’re not holding me for anything then I get to leave.”

The officer didn’t so much as blink. “You’ve been drinking, kid. And no offense, but considering I just found you two getting into a bar fight, I don’t exactly feel comfortable sending you out on the streets to start another brawl, so unless you want to spend the night here and sober up, I suggest you give us your father’s number.”

Paul looked like he really was considering it for a moment, even glanced back at the jail cell longingly, but after a moment, he slumped down in his seat and rattled off the number.

And there they remained until the front door of the station slammed into the wall so hard Soda was sure he heard the drywall crack.

“Anyone want to tell me why you’re calling me here on my night off?”

Soda and the two officers nearly jumped a foot in the air, but Paul just sunk further in his chair.

Officer Jones recovered first. He cleared his throat and said, “Good to see you, Chief. It’s been a while.”

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” added Officer Davis. 

Chief Holden cut his eyes between them, expression growing more and more aggravated. “I know you two men didn’t call me in for a chit-chat.”

Officer Jones didn’t so much as blink. “…Right. We’ll cut to it, then. We found your son, Paul, getting into an altercation with another boy. There are no witnesses, a pretty cut and dry situation, but he’s been drinking, and well, considering—” he gestured at the file in front of him, Soda wondered what was in it, “Well, we figured it’d be easier if we called you in and let you handle it how you saw fit, sir.”

Chief Holden whipped around with a fury that made Soda shrink back in his seat, only to realize after a moment it wasn’t directed at him.

But Paul just kept staring at the floor in front of him. “What?”

“Just wondering how many fights you been in this month? Three, four?”

Paul shrugged, “They came after me.”

“I seem to remember you throwing the first punch,” Soda muttered, though he didn’t know why. Sometimes his mouth started moving on its own accord.

All his comment did was bring Chief Holden’s attention to him. He studied him for a long time, and Soda held his gaze. Recognition filled his eyes after a minute. “You’re one of them Curtis boys.”

Soda nodded, sitting up a little bit straighter, though it pulled at his ribs to do so, “Yes sir.”

Chief Holden kept his eyes trained on Soda as he said, “I want to press charges. This boy attacked my son.”

Soda’s heart stuttered in his chest. Somehow this night kept spiraling out of his control. It was bad enough this man wanted to convict Darry, what would happen if he got thrown in jail too? Would social services come for him, for Pony? All the things that could go wrong for his family flashed in his mind, and the room started to feel like it was closing in on him.

But Officer Jones surprised him when he cleared his throat and said, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Chief.”

Three pairs of eyes whipped towards him in shock. “And why not?” Chief Holden said eyes narrowed.

Officer Jones glanced down at the file in his hands. “A few reasons, really.”

But whatever they were, he didn’t share. Soda wondered if he was trying to piss the Chief off on purpose. “You gonna enlighten me, Officer Jones, or am I going to have to call the Sheriff in here to knock some sense into you?”

Despite the Chief’s sharp words, Officer Jones looked unimpressed. He just smiled and shrugged. “Sure. For one, we found your son with a switchblade to Mr. Curtis’s neck. I hate to imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been patrolling the area.”

Chief Holden’s gaze swept over Paul and Soda again, then he turned back to the officer. “And what about the Curtis kid?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did he have a blade on him as well?”

“There was one in his pocket, yes.”

“Well, then my son was acting in self-defense.”

But Officer Jones laughed. “When your son was on top of him? The kid’s switchblade out of reach? What do you think, he took Mr. Curtis’s switchblade, put it back in his pocket, then held him to the ground and attacked him? I’m sorry Chief, it just doesn’t seem likely. And I think we both know you’re a better officer than that.”

Chief Holden worked his jaw for a moment. That last comment, Soda realized, had him cornered. There was no way for him to argue around it without it looking like a cover-up. Eventually, he continued, voice tight, “But my son says this Curtis boy started it, doesn’t have to have been with a blade.”

“Sure, but Mr. Curtis says that Paul started the fight.”

Chief Holden scoffed. “And you honestly believe that?”

Officer Jones shrugged. “Since there’s no witnesses there to corroborate, it’s a he said, he said situation, maybe your son’s telling the truth, maybe he’s not. The only facts I have are what myself and Officer Davis saw when we came on the scene. Well, that, and my second reason that pressing charges might not be so wise.”

Officer Jones slid two files towards Chief Holden, if possible, his expression darkened even more.

“You know what’s in your son’s file? Multiple arrests for drunk and disorderly, public brawls, and so many tickets for driving under the influence that it’s a miracle that boy of yours is still alive. You know what I have in Mr. Curtis’s file? Absolutely nothing. So no matter how you slice it, Chief Holden, this picture isn’t looking too good for your son.”

But Chief Holden didn’t so much as glance at the files. “That still doesn’t change what happened tonight, and if my son says this Curtis kid started it then I believe him.”

Officer Jones shrugged again. “That’s great that his father believes him, but that doesn’t change how this looks from the eyes of the law. I know you’re used to being able to come in a room and throw your power around, but this ain’t your territory, sir. This is the county. If you do decide to go forward with pressing charges, I can’t imagine it will lead to anywhere good.”

Chief Holden looked like he was about to gear up for a fight when the front door opened again, but softer than when the Chief barged in, almost hesitant. Soda glanced over, and somehow, the sight was so much worse than the Chief had been, or those officers standing over him in the parking lot, or even Paul’s switchblade.

Because in walked Darry, hands clenched in tight fists at his sides, expression grim, and eyes filled with a worry that made guilt pull at Soda’s chest.

Darry’s gaze wandered around the room until his eyes locked on Soda. Relief flooded his features followed quickly by concern. He rushed over to him and said, “Pepsi, you alright? You had me worried sick.”

He put a hand on the back of Soda’s head and pulled him into a hug, a move that was surprisingly affectionate for his usually stoic brother. Soda allowed himself a brief moment to melt into it.

“I’m fine Dar, honest. Looks worse than it actually is.”

He pulled back and gave Darry a smile, and his brother must have seen something in his expression that made him relax because his smile back seemed genuine. “Glory, who tore up that handsome face of yours?”

But Chief Holden wasn’t impressed with their little reunion. “What, you can’t pick your own battles, gotta have your brother fight them for you?” 

It was clear that Darry was off his game because he apparently hadn’t even noticed the other people in the room with them. He whipped his head up, pulling away from Soda, as if not wanting to let anyone in on their private moment. 

Soda saw the moment Darry realized who was speaking to him; his eyes widened, he ran his fingers along his neck, the spot that used to be discolored with bruises. He looked towards the other figure sitting in the waiting room, saw Paul sitting there, dripping blood and brooding.

When he finally pulled his eyes back towards Soda, they were so heavy with disappointment Soda had to look away.

“No sir,” Darry finally said, voice cool. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Officer Jones cut in before the conversation could go any further. “I’ll take it you’re here for Soda?” He asked.

Darry nodded, “Yessir.”

The Officer gave him a stern look. “Sorry, son, I’m afraid you can’t pick up your brother. It has to be one of your parents.”

“Wha—? Oh, no, I’m his guardian.”

Officer Jones gave him a dubious expression. “You? Come on kid, you’re barely eighteen.”

Darry was frazzled, Soda could tell. It was strange, things so rarely got to him, sometimes it felt like nothing could shake him. He lifted his hand and pushed his hair back, trying to steady himself. “No, I am, our parents died about a year ago, I have documentation, I swear. I just forgot to grab it on my way out. I was coming in from my brother’s track meet when you called— not that you care about that. But honest, there’s no one else who can pick him up.”

Officer Jones’s face remained impassive. “Sorry, kid, but without any way to prove—”

But an unexpected voice pipped up, Paul, sounding drained. “It’s true. The dumbass would do anything for those brothers of his.”

Darry tilted his head, giving Paul a strange look Soda couldn’t quite read, before saying, “I can go home and get the file, if that helps, or call our social worker. Mrs. Miller, I have her number—”

Officer Jones sighed and glanced at his watch. “Look, it’s late, we’re not charging him with anything, I think I can let it go this one time.”

Just a hint of hope flashed in Darry’s eyes. “Does this mean it won’t get reported to the state?”

Officer Jones studied Darry for a long time, Soda’s heart stuttered in his chest. 

“Considering he’s a first time offender, I think we can let him off with a warning. But don’t let us catch him doing anything like this again, you understand me, son?”

Darry slumped forward with relief. “Of course, sir. I swear, this is the last you’ll be seeing of us.”

The Officer gave him a ghost of a smile, but Chief Holden cut in before Darry could do too much celebrating. “This is ridiculous, these boys are targeting my son.”

“Dad—” Paul said, looking embarrassed, but the Chief ignored him.

“No, Paul. It’s ludicrous. That boy attacked my son because his brother is a major suspect in one of my cases, for all I know Darrel sent him after Paul to do his dirty work, who knows how those East Side boys operate. And you expect me to stand by and do nothing?”

Soda’s mouth decided to move on it’s own accord again, and he heard himself saying, “Paul jumped Darry weeks ago and no one did anything then. Why should this be any different?”

“Soda, shut up,” Darry said, with a look so cold Soda’s blood turned to ice.

Officer Jones raised a hand to silence them. “Enough. This is clearly a civil dispute between the four of you, and as I told you, Chief, I can only speak to the facts before me. You’re more than welcome to press charges, but I can’t promise that it’ll go well for you.”

Chief Holden clenched his fist on the edge of the desk. “I will be speaking to the Sheriff about this, what kind of crapshoot are you people running around here, anyway? This would never fly in my department.”

But apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say, because Officer Jones’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Look, Holden, let me give it to you straight. The only reason your son wasn’t arrested tonight was as a courtesy to a fellow officer. Don’t expect it to happen again if he starts stirring up trouble in my jurisdiction. And if you have a problem with that, well then, you’re more than welcome to call the Sheriff, seeing as he’s such a buddy of yours. But believe me, he’ll be telling you the same thing.”

Chief Holden studied Officer Jones for a long time, then he turned his gaze towards Darry. “I told you before, boy, and I’ll tell you again. I don’t forget.” His voice was laced with something dangerous.

Darry just tilted his head, giving him that same curious look he had when the Chief had shown up at their doorstep. “Yeah? Funny, neither do I.”

Chief Holden worked his jaw, then finally nodded. “Let’s go, Paul.” He yanked Paul up by the arm, and Soda just caught the other boy wince at the tight grip. There was a frightened expression on his face that made Soda uncomfortable.

Officer Jones looked between Darry and the door that had just slammed shut. “Never understood how that guy got to be the police chief. He always was a bastard, pardon my language.”

Darry sighed, the sound weary and defeated. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

They rode home in silence. The cops had been kind enough to give Soda a towel so he wouldn’t bleed out all over the truck, as well as one final lecture reminding him that he was awful lucky, and not to expect his next run-in with the law to go so smooth.

Darry’s fingers were clenched so tight around the steering wheel Soda thought he might accidentally rip it out of the truck.

He tried to break the tension once by saying, “Hey, look on the bright side, at least this turned out better than that time Pony ran away… Right?”

The comment was met with silence, until eventually Darry sighed and said, “Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

They didn’t speak again until they got back home and found Pony sitting in Darry’s recliner, the same spot he sat and waited after Darry had been jumped. Exhaustion had settled over his features, a weariness taking hold of him like Soda hadn’t seen since Johnny and Dally died. It was late, well after two in the morning, and the kid still hadn’t changed out of his track uniform.

But none of this mattered, because the second they walked through the door, Pony bolted up and came over to check on him.“Soda, you alright? Golly, your eye…”

Soda waved him off. “Nothing an icepack and an aspirin won’t fix, how’d your track meet go, kid?”

But Darry, apparently, wasn’t in the mood for small talk.“Pony. Bed. Now.” 

Pony gave him an annoyed look, “Come on, Dar.”

“Pony,” Darry said, his voice laced with something desperate. Pony looked at him, and Soda watched as a silent conversation passed between his brothers. A pang of something that Soda didn’t understand shot through him as he watched their moment unfold. He felt like an outsider, unable to reach across and have an easy conversation with them like he had just hours before, as if he was some problem they were trying to fix; it made an anger settle in his chest he didn’t quite like. 

Eventually, Pony nodded and glanced back at Soda. “Glad you’re okay,” he mumbled, before heading back to his bedroom.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, Darry walked to the kitchen. Soda followed him.

“Go to bed, Soda, it’s late.”

But Soda wasn’t done with this conversation, no matter what Darry said.“Look, if we’re gonna do the whole thing where you pretend your Dad and yell at me, I’d rather do it now and get it over with if it’s all the same to you.”

But Darry didn’t say anything, just turned on the hot water at the sink and started grabbing the dishes scattered around the kitchen.

“What, you’re going for the silent treatment now?”

“No.”

“So then what’s this?”

Darry put the stopper in the bottom of the sink and poured the dish soap in, he watched as the bubbles started to form. His voice sounded tired. “It’s late Soda, we’ve both had a long day, can we just please have this conversation in the morning?”

But Soda didn’t want to. And for once in his life, he wanted to do something on his schedule instead of when it was convenient for Darry. “If this were Pony you’d have it right now.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Darry grabbed the sponge and began washing the pan in his hand with just a little too much force for it to be casual. “Because I’m too angry right now.”

Soda scoffed. “That’s never stopped you before.”

If he thought that would rile Darry up, he was wrong. His words were quiet, but rang out clear in the night.“Yeah, and we both remembered what happened last time, right? I hit my little brother and the next thing I knew three boys ended up dead, two of which were our best friends. So no, Soda. I don’t exactly want to have this conversation when I’m angry.”

But the events of the evening were starting to catch up with Soda. The police, Chief Holden’s threats, Paul’s blade on his neck. He felt scared, and drained, and like he was seconds away from tipping over the edge. All he wanted was to have this one conversation with Darry, get it out in the open, clear the air in a way his brother was always refusing to do. And Darry couldn’t even give him that. 

Soda took a deep breath and tried to keep his cool like he always did, but he couldn’t help the bitterness leaking out in his voice when he said, “What, you think I can’t handle myself with you? You’re not as tough as you think you are Darry. I mean, I handled Paul—”

Darry scoffed. “No, you didn’t ‘handle’ Paul. You had a knife to your neck and could have ended up dead.”

“But I didn’t! Look at me, I have all my limbs and everything.”

Darry slammed the pan down on the drying rack, the sound like a clap of thunder. He grabbed a mug and continued washing. “Because your ass got lucky. I mean, glory, Soda. What would have happened if the police hadn’t come and Paul went too far? How do you think your brother would have felt, how I would have felt? Or what if they had decided to press charges? Do you think the state would have honestly let me keep custody of Pony? Of you?”

Those very thoughts had been swirling in his own mind since he saw the red and blue lights shining out in the night, but something about Darry throwing them at him felt cruel. “Great, this speech again,” Soda muttered.

Darry glanced over at him for the first time. “I’m sorry?”

“For once I’d like to screw up without you throwing around living in a boys home like a threat. ”

Darry put the mug down and finally turned towards him, water dripped from his hands. “But it’s true Soda, and you’re seventeen, you should be old enough to understand that. I just thought we were past all of this.”

The words felt dangerous, and finally, Soda thought, Darry would actually tell him how he felt. “All of what?”

“All of that stuff you pulled after Mom and Dad died,” Darry bit out, throwing each word out like a blade. “Running around town and picking fights, acting like you have a death wish, like you’re the only one hurting. I try to be reasonable here, I do, but we can’t keep doing this. At some point, you’re going to have to grow up.”

Soda hadn’t been angry with Darry like this since before their parents died. It was strange, like an old dance he’d forgotten the steps to, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Yeah, well what about you?”

Tension coursed through Darry, Soda could see it, the tightness in his fist, the strain in his neck. A part of him wondered, briefly, if Darry would actually hit him, but he pushed the thought away. “What about me?”

“I’m not the one throwing tantrums and angry at the world. Pony spent the past year convinced you hated him because you spent all your time sulking around and bitter. Don’t you ever think I get tired of being the brother who fixes everything while you blow up on everybody? Look in the mirror Dar, because I ain’t the one who’s been pushing everyone away.”

The comment was met with silence, Darry’s expression was dark, his breath ragged. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Don’t you think I’m trying? It’s why I wanted to have this conversation tomorrow, so I could clear my head. You’re the one hot under the collar and gunning for a fight.”

But Soda wasn’t finished. “But you know what’s worse? You scream and yell and chew us out, but then you let some Soc walk all over you.”

“What do you want me to do Soda? This is too big to solve with fists, don’t you get that?”

“You talk about me and Pony putting our family in jeopardy, but what about you? What do you think’s gonna happen to us when you get convicted, huh? How is that fair? We’re going to lose our house, our friends, our lives all because you won’t stick up for yourself and actually do something about it.”

The set in Darry’s shoulders was tense, dangerous. They had stepped into each other's space somewhere along the way, and Soda was suddenly struck by how much bigger his brother was. Darry lifted his hand to brush his hair back, a gesture Soda had seen him do hundreds of times to calm himself down. But before he could complete the motion something barreled into Darry like a streak of lightning and knocked him hard into the countertop. The mug Darry had just washed fell and shattered on the floor.

“Get away from him!” It was Ponyboy, standing in front of Darry, eyes ablaze.

“Pony,” Darry said, confusion replaced the anger that had been there only seconds before. “What the hell?”

“You don’t get to hit him like that.”

“I don’t— what?”

It clicked for Soda at the same time it clicked for Darry. Pony had been watching them, they realized, and he thought Darry was going to do the same thing he’d done to Pony.

He thought Darry was going to hit him.

Soda saw the hurt in Darry’s eyes as he looked between them. “I wasn’t— I would never—”

“But you did before,” Pony said, voice harsh.

Something shifted in Darry’s expression, something unreadable. He shook his head and pushed away from the countertop, broken ceramic crunching under his shoes. “I gotta get out of here.”

The words were muttered to himself, but they seemed to echo around their kitchen. Pony blinked and looked at Soda like he had the answers, but Soda felt unsteady; the turn of the conversation hadn’t quite evaporated all his anger.

And sometimes, despite how stupid he knew it was, his mouth seemed to move on its own accord and the next thing he knew, he heard himself saying, “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You’re our guardian, ain’t ya, that’s what you told those cops tonight. You don’t get to just leave us here!” 

Soda reached out to grab Darry, who had made it to the threshold of the kitchen, but Darry pulled away, eyes flickering with so many emotions Soda couldn’t begin to detangle them, and said, “I can’t keep doing this!”

“So what? You’re gonna run out on us?”

Darry kept walking towards the door, Soda following hot on his heels. “I’m tired, Soda. I keep losing these pieces of myself so that you two have a home, have a family, have food, can just be kids, and you two can’t even stay out of trouble! How many times do I have to deal with the police knocking at my door, telling me a Soc is dead and my brother’s the lead suspect? Or calling me up and telling me my other brother’s been in a fight with the guy who tried to kill me a few months ago? I can’t keep giving myself away when clearly you two don’t care.”

“But fighting is how we’ve always solved things with the Socs, Dar. We did it after Bob died and about a hundred times before that, why is this any different?” 

Finally, Darry turned and looked at him, his expression filled with heartache. “Because you went and beat up the police chief's son, Soda! The man who’s accusing me of a crime I didn’t commit. Why? Because you're mad? Because you think it’s going to make a difference? Well, news flash, all your hot-headedness is doing is get me closer to the chopping block, and I can’t keep fighting this fight against the world and the two of you at the same time. Because if you boys aren’t with me then what’s the point?”

His words left Soda staggering, and he stood there, trying to figure out how this night had fallen apart so quickly. He blinked, and like a movie, watched Darry walk to the truck, heard the jangle of his keys, the engine roar to life. It was that sound, the vibration of it in his chest, that awoke something in Soda, like a trance had been broken. 

Because suddenly, it hit him. Darry was leaving them, driving off to who knows where with no plans of returning. He could go as far as he wanted because they all knew the truth. The only thing that had ever been holding him back was his brothers.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He wanted to sound tuff, but he knew his voice shook, fear and desperation painting every word.

“I don’t know, I just gotta think for a bit.”

But Soda didn’t trust him. If Darry left now, it felt like something would shift, an unspoken pact they’d all had after their parents died. “We can figure this out, Dar, just come back inside.”

Darry gave him a sad look, Soda could see his hands shake as he gripped onto the steering wheel. “Soda, I’ll be back, I promise, but you gotta give me a few hours to think, please.”

There it was, that same desperate tone he’d had after he was jumped, after their late night talk when Soda tried to get him to open up about everything, it was the one thing Soda couldn’t say no to. So instead he stepped back, heard the squeak of the door as Darry slammed it shut, watched as the truck took off down the road, and stood listening long after the sound of the engine faded.

The August air was thick and heavy, and Soda found himself struggling to pull in a breath.

“He’ll come back, right?” Pony said, voice quiet.

Soda should have nodded and thrown his arm around his little brother, cracked a joke like he always had, taken him inside, fixed them both up a piece of chocolate cake, and pretended like everything was going to be okay.

But Soda didn’t, because something felt wrong, like the cracks in their corner of the world were finally starting to split open, and he wasn’t sure he could fix it anymore.

So instead, he sat on the stoop of their porch and hung his head in his hands, and wished, not for the first time, that he could ask his mom what to do.

Chapter Text

When their parents died, Soda was a mess.

He didn’t like to think about it, those first few months after, when the grief weighed heavy on his heart. He spent those months feeling like no one could understand, not his friends, not his brothers, not anyone. Because he didn’t feel numb like Darry did, or frightened of the world like Pony, but instead he felt an anger that nestled in his chest and consumed his every thought. And there didn’t seem to be enough room in Tulsa to contain it all.

And nowhere did that anger feel more sharp than at school. He’d never been a fan of the place, his teachers spent more time making him feel bad about himself than actually teaching him anything, but then that was how most of his friends felt about school, and there was a comfort in that camaraderie. He knew all he had to do was push through until graduation and then he’d never have to read Shakespeare again or struggle through the quadratic formula.

But his parent's death had somehow made it all worse. He was no longer Sodapop, the kid with the funny name who was as dumb as nails but could always find a way to make people laugh, he was now the kid whose parents were dead.

Pitying looks and whispers followed him down the halls from Greasers and Socs alike, this, apparently, was the one thing they could agree on. Teachers who were once quick to throw him in detention, or fail him, or lecture him on all the things in life he’d never be able to accomplish, now tiptoed around him. Gave him grace and a pat on the back where before there would have been aggravation and sharp words. 

His parent's death had done something Soda never would have anticipated; it marked him as other among his peers when all he wanted was to fade back into the crowd. The isolation of this, the sad eyes and stilted conversation thrown his way, left him with a simmering rage that seemed inescapable.

So he did things to soften the feeling. Drinking was the usual suspect, he’d stay out on the town late into the night, Steve by his side as they raised a little hell, picked a fight or two, and maybe stole a pack of smokes along the way. Harmless things, but things that left his heart racing and reminded him that he was still alive. And if he was out so late he slept through his alarm the next morning and missed school, well, that was harmless, too. No one wanted him there anyway, and he certainly didn’t want to be there.

But some nights Steve couldn’t come out. Or it was too late in the evening to call, when nighttime covered the earth and there was no one to silence the thoughts turning over in his head. It was in those moments, when the grief weighed so heavy in his chest he struggled to breathe, that he started running, and not in the fancy track way that Pony was so fond of. 

He’d throw on a pair of Converse, sneak out of the house, and run until he couldn’t pull in another breath, until his lungs ached, until his legs burned from the strain of propelling him forward. 

He’d run until he was on the outskirts of town, where the trees finally outnumbered the buildings, and he could pretend for a moment there was more to life than the grief that painted his every thought.

It was a night like this, when he’d stayed out a bit later than normal watching the stars and came home as dawn was just starting to break, feet aching and blisters beginning to form, that he found Darry sitting in their dad’s old recliner, book in hand and frown on his face.

They did the same dance they’d done for months; Darry yelling and Soda pretending to listen. Telling him all the things he was doing wrong (it was a laundry list of things), all the ways he was putting their family in jeopardy (so many Darry lost count), all the ways he was throwing his future away by not caring about school (Darry could spend hours listing them off and he still wouldn’t be through).

Soda didn’t know why it got to him that night, there wasn’t anything special about it. Soda had run off dozens of times before and Darry had chewed him out for it every time. But something about that evening hit Soda wrong, he could feel it in the sting of tears in his eyes, the way his breath hitched. And he found he couldn’t take it anymore.

So when Darry paused between rants to draw in a breath, Soda snapped. “Do you not get how unhappy I am? How much I hate going to school every day?”

Darry blinked at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. In all of his yelling, Soda had never once fought back, just took it on the chin, and it was clear Darry didn’t know what to do. That at least, gave Soda a strange sense of satisfaction. 

Finally, Darry said, “I didn’t— you’ve never said.”

“Well, I do, Darry. I hate it more than anything. I hate spending my life at a place that don’t do nothing but remind me how dumb I am, how I won’t amount to nothing, that I’m worthless.”

Darry’s sharp expression morphed into heartache, but that only made Soda angrier. His tone had taken on a gentleness when he said,  “Soda, that’s not true.”

“It is Darry! Those kids think it, the teachers think it, it’s just they’re just all too scared to say anything because Mom and Dad are dead, but I see it every time I fail another one of their test, or when they laugh because I get a problem wrong. I don’t even want to go anymore, I just wish you’d let me drop out, then I could work in a garage or something and actually do stuff I’m good at.”

But Darry was shaking his head. “Soda, you can’t just drop out, you ain’t that bad at school, and you certainly aren’t dumb. We can do this, I’ll help you.”

But somehow, that only made it worse. The reminder that his brother was all the things Soda would never be. Soda scoffed and said, “We can’t all be Boy of the Year like you Darry. Some of us just ain’t cut out for all that.”

He left Darry standing there because he couldn’t take another pitying look thrown his way.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Darry asked, but there was no heat behind it.

“School. It’s not like I have a choice,” Soda said, voice bitter. But if he was honest, for once he didn’t mind, because at that moment even school was better than hanging out there.

The morning passed by in a haze as first period morphed into second. He couldn’t remember a thing he’d done; he thought he’d had a pop quiz somewhere along the way that he’d most definitely failed. The conversation he’d had with Darry played on a loop in his head all morning. If nothing else, he thought, at least it gave him a distraction from how much he didn’t want to be there.

He was considering finding Steve and seeing if he wanted to bail, but he stopped cold when he turned the corner and found Darry leaning against his locker. Soda’s breath caught in his chest, because suddenly he was transported back to the year prior, reminded of his brother’s easy laugh and quick wit that seemed to pull the other students in his orbit. It struck Soda for the first time that Darry was the same kid as he had been back then, except now his eyes held something heavy that hadn’t been there before. Soda should know, when he looked in the mirror he saw the same thing.

The freshmen girls were looking at Darry with wonder, giggling as they tucked their hair behind their ears, it brought Soda back to the present and he rolled his eyes; whatever Darry wanted, it couldn’t be anything good.

“What, you here to give me a tutoring session or something?” Soda asked, pushing him to the side so he could grab his books.

Darry didn’t look at him. Just kept glancing down the hall, as if waiting for something. He looked nervous enough that Soda found himself glancing over his shoulder like he’d have any idea what he was supposed to look for.

“You got any test today?” Darry asked in lieu of an answer.

Soda blinked, confused. “No, Mrs. Anderson said we have a quiz, but you know how that goes.”

Darry smiled. “You're lucky if she remembers what subject she’s teaching, come on then.”

Soda furrowed his brow, the anger hadn’t ebbed, but he was so caught off guard at his brother’s strange behavior that he found himself following without question. “Why? Where are we going?”

“Come on Pepsi, I thought you hated school.”

Soda rolled his eyes. He wanted to give his brother a sharp answer, but he wanted to leave more. So the next thing he knew, they were hopping in their dad’s truck and tearing out of the school parking lot.

They drove for a long time in silence, as long as Soda could manage it. But eventually, boredom got the best of him and he asked, “What, just because you let me skip school you think I’m gonna stop being mad at you?”

Darry gave him a small smile. “Nah, you’re a Curtis, we’re too stubborn for that.”

“Then what’s with you wanting to play hooky all of the sudden? I figure Boy of the Year would be above all that.”

Darry gave him an exasperated look. “I skipped plenty of times. The trick is to make sure Mom and Dad never noticed. Clearly, that’s a skill you never learned.”

It was supposed to be a joke, Soda could tell by Darry’s smirk, but all it did was remind him of another thing Darry could do that he couldn’t. Soda folded his arms and sunk down lower in the passenger seat, muttering, “Great, something else I’m too dumb to do.”

“You ain’t dumb Soda, stop that,” Darry said, voice sharp. Soda rolled his eyes. Darry couldn’t understand, everything came easy for him.

“Where are we going anyways?” Soda asked, he didn’t want Darry to start ranting about all of Soda’s unused potential, he didn’t have the energy for it.

Darry glanced over at him, “Figured you’d recognize the place, but I guess it’s been a while since you’ve been here.” 

He pointed out the windshield, and Soda turned his head, confused until he saw the building Darry was pointing at, a bright orange neon sign illuminating the window.

Darry had brought him to Public Records, the nice record store he’d gone to with Dad on his fourteenth birthday. The one Soda talked about so much that Darry had threatened to snap all his records in half if he didn’t shut up about it.

Soda blinked, staring ahead in disbelief. “I don’t got any money,” was all he could think to say.

Darry chuckled. “Yeah, I figured as much since you didn’t know you were coming. Don’t worry about it, just pick something out that won’t make my ears bleed, lord knows I’m gonna have to listen to it on a loop.”

Soda finally managed to tear his eyes away from the building and look back at his brother. Something passed between them in that moment, something he would never be able to articulate no matter how hard he tried. “You sure?”

Darry gave him that easy smile of his, the one that made him look like a kid again. “Yeah, Pepsi. Go on.”

Soda didn’t ask any more questions. He practically sprinted into the store, almost overwhelmed by all the choices. He poured over the different records, ones he’d read about in magazines, or songs he’d heard on the radio. He pulled album after album to play them in the listening booth, letting the music wash over him, holding onto lyrics in his mind. For the first time in months, he felt an ache in his chest be soothed.

He didn’t know how long they’d been there, it could have been an hour, it could have been six. When he finally came back to himself, his stomach was growling, so he figured he’d best find Darry.

He was surprised to find his brother in one of the listening booths, headphones over his ears, with an expression on his face Soda couldn’t name. Soda almost felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t.

“Whatcha listening to?” Soda asked.

Darry jumped, startled, then looked embarrassed, “Oh, nothing, just waiting on you.”

But Soda pulled the album cover out of his hand.

“Highway 61 Revisited? I didn’t know you liked Bob Dylan.”

Darry shrugged, “Just when it’s on the radio is all. Name was familiar, thought I’d check it out.”

“You gonna get it?” he asked.

Darry stared at the record spinning for a moment, and Soda thought he might really be considering it.

But eventually, Darry shook his head, “Nah, like you’d ever let me use the record player. Now come on, show me what you picked out, and it better be good, kid. Dad would be real disappointed if I let your music taste slip.”

They bought the album, and then Darry surprised him again by taking him to the ice cream parlor. If Soda didn’t know any better, he’d say he was dying or something. They bought their ice cream and found a table to sit at outside in the shade. The first hint of fall was starting to breeze in the mornings, but the air was still hot and muggy by this time of day.

Soda dug into his cone, but Darry’s mind seemed preoccupied, he kept swirling the ice cream around in his cup, never taking a bite. Soda’s anger may have faded, but Darry’s weird behavior was starting to make him nervous.

“Darry, you act like you’re on a first date or something, what’s the matter?”

His brother sighed, putting the ice cream down. He drummed his fingers on the table and gave Soda a considering look. “You know what we talked about last night— or well I guess this morning, really?”

Soda nodded. “I mean, of course, I do, Dar. It was only a few hours ago, I ain’t that dumb.”

“You’re not dumb,” Darry said immediately, with so much conviction it made Soda pause.

Darry shook his head and looked down at the ice cream in his cup, it was starting to melt. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and if it really means that much to you, then I think you should drop out, or, at least, I’m okay with it.”

Suddenly, the ice cream was difficult for Soda to swallow, it seemed to stick in his mouth like paste.

“You don’t mean that.”

Darry nodded and pulled his gaze up to meet Soda’s. “I do, Pepsi. Look, I know you and Pony think I’m some sort of hard ass now, but I’m not blind. I get how unhappy you are, and these past few months, well, they really sucked. If doing this can make things easier for you, then we’ll make it work.”

Soda didn’t know what to say, hadn’t he wanted this very thing? Been dreaming of it for months. But now that it was here, now that Darry had offered it up on a silver platter, he couldn’t help but feel like his brother was giving up on him. He’d never let Pony drop out no matter how much he begged. Maybe Soda just wasn’t worth the trouble, or maybe Darry knew what Soda had known all along, that there was no point in trying because Soda would never amount to anything anyway.

A part of him desperately wanted to take him up on it, but he couldn’t, not without knowing the truth. So even though he hated himself for it, he found himself saying, “You think I’m too stupid to make it, don’t ya?”

Darry’s expression grew desperate as he put down his ice cream, “Of course not kid. That ain’t what this is about at all.”

“It’s gotta be, why else would you let me drop out? You love school.”

He expected a lecture from his brother, but Darry did something funny. He reached across the table and grabbed Soda’s hand, not even minding how sticky it had become from the ice cream. Soda still couldn’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze.“Soda, when I say this, I need you to listen real good, okay? You’re one of the smartest guys I know, and you can do absolutely anything you set your mind to, you hear me?”

Soda shook his head.“But I’m not. School and sports and all that stuff come so easy to you and Pony. I just can’t get it.”

“No one’s asking you to be us, kid. You think this world needs another Darrel Curtis running around? Or worse another Ponyboy? You’re you, Soda, and you’ve got your own strengths. I mean, I don’t know half the stuff you do about music, I don’t even know how you cram it all in that head of yours. And cars! You can fix up the truck before I even realize there’s a problem. I’m telling you, you’re quick as a whip, Pepsi, it’s just about different stuff than me and Pony.”

“But none of that stuff matters, it’s not gonna get me anywhere.”

Darry scoffed. “Football didn’t get me anywhere, that don’t mean I wasn’t good at it, and reading a book sure ain’t helping me with roofing houses. School doesn’t have to be for everyone, Pepsi, that doesn’t make you dumb, you just have different interests is all.”

Darry gave his hand a small squeeze, and Soda pulled his gaze up to meet his. There was something earnest in his expression, almost pleading as he said, “But this, where your head’s at? You’re miserable, kid. The Soda I grew up with didn’t hate the world like you do, and if dropping out and getting a job can help bring that spark back, then we’ll go and pull you out today, you hear me? But don’t think for one second it’s because I think you’re too dumb to make it, because as far as I’m concerned, you’re the smartest kid in the world.”

It struck Soda that this was the first time anyone ever listened to something that had been bothering him. His Mom and Dad loved him, he didn’t doubt that for a second, but they never would have heard him out on this.

But Darry, stubborn, proud Darry, who’d never once had a hard time in school, actually heard him, tried to understand where he was coming from, gave him the out he so desperately craved. But most of all he gave him the feeling, for the first time since their parents died, that maybe he’d be able to get past all of the anger.

“We’ll be okay, Pepsi,” Darry said as if reading his brother’s mind. “It ain’t always gonna hurt this bad, not like this. But the only way we can get through it is if the three of us work together, and that means no running off in the middle of the night, or drinking all day. I need you to talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you, because if there’s a way I can fix something I will, you got that?”

Soda nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak, after a moment he said, “I’ll do better, Dar, I promise.”

Darry smiled and leaned back in his chair. He took his first bite of his ice cream and said, “I don’t need you to do better kid, just need you to be happy. I’ve been missing my little brother.”

The memory of that day had been running through his mind on a loop since Darry’s taillights took off in the night. Soda felt bone-weary, an ache in his chest he didn’t think he’d be able to fill. Part of him wondered if he should go for a run like he would have before, but he didn’t think he had the strength anymore.

Distantly, he was aware of Pony moving around the house, it must be morning, he thought, which meant he’d sat awake in Darry’s recliner for the rest of the night, however much of it had been left. His brain felt tired, his body ached, and for the first time in a long time, he felt too exhausted to live, yet too worried to sleep.

“Soda, come on, I cooked breakfast, you can’t sit there staring at the wall all day.”

Soda blinked up at his little brother. It shocked him, sometimes, how much Pony and Darry looked alike. Soda had always been the odd one out even down to his looks. He favored their mom, a soft gentleness to her expression that she and Soda shared. But Pony and Darry looked so much like their father. The turn of their nose, the shape of their eyes, the way their mouth pulled down in a frown when they were worried, much like Pony was looking at him now.

“Come on, you got work today, don’t ya?”

Soda shook his head and mumbled, “It’s Saturday.” It was the first thing he’d said since Darry left, his throat felt like he’d swallowed gravel.

Pony’s frown deepened. “Well, I got practice, we can’t just sit here all day worrying.”

That’s what we did when you left. Soda wanted to say, but he knew it wasn’t true, not really. Darry still went to work because he had to, and Soda still left the house every day because Steve wouldn’t take no for an answer, but he knew that if they’d been given the choice, neither of them would have left the telephone until they knew their brother was okay.

It’s what Soda wanted to do now.

But he didn’t, because he knew Pony wouldn’t let him, so he got up and made his way to the kitchen, his body aching like a man twice his age. He hadn’t even heard him cooking eggs and bacon, and despite everything, he found that he was pretty hungry.

“Looks real good kid,” Soda said. Pony nodded but didn’t say anything.

Soda looked at him for the first time. He could see the tension in the set of his shoulders.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” Pony muttered, not looking at his brother.

Soda thought he should try to ease Pony’s worries, but he wasn’t sure he remembered how. Eventually, he settled on, “He’ll come back soon kid, he just needs some time.”

Pony sat across from him at the table, pushing around the eggs on his plate with his fork but never actually eating them. “He and I had a real good time at the track meet yesterday.”

It hadn’t been what Soda was expecting, but he found himself smiling. “Yeah?”

Pony nodded. “I came in first in the 400, Dar was over the moon about it, made a real big deal, you know how he is.”

Soda’s smile came a little easier. “He would have been happy if you’d come in dead last Pone, you know he’s always proud of you.”

Pony was quiet for a long time, so long Soda thought the conversation might be over, but when he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful. “He took me out for ice cream after, like we used to do after his football games, remember?”

“Yeah, you always got mint chocolate chip like a weirdo.” He was trying for a joke, but it fell flat.

“You should have come.”

There was a shift in his tone, something that made Soda’s stomach churn.

“I told Dar I already had plans, I couldn’t back out of them.” It felt crueler saying the words to Pony than it had to Darry, like he’d let his little brother down.

For the first time, Pony pulled his eyes up to meet Soda’s gaze. Anger and hurt clear in his expression. “Yeah? Were those plans to go beat up Paul?”

Soda's breath caught and his stomach soured, the eggs in his mouth became difficult to swallow. He put his fork down and said, “It was just something I had to take care of. Don’t worry about it.”

Pony rolled his eyes. “Great I feel much better now that you have a black eye and a police record.”

Soda sighed, he already had one brother mad at him, he didn’t need another. “Fighting is what we do kid, what we’ve always done. Darry couldn’t do it without risking getting in trouble, and there’s no way I was going to let you go after Paul, so it had to be me. It’s just the way things work around here.”

Pony started shoving his eggs around his plate again, and when he spoke, his words were quiet; Soda had to strain to hear them. “It’s just we were finally getting along, you know? Why’d you have to go and ruin it?”

The words struck somewhere deep in his chest, guilt flaring up and wrapping around his heart. Soda pushed the feeling down because he couldn’t have this conversation, not with the sharp stab of a headache behind his eyes and no sleep. He didn’t have the energy to defend himself again.

And before his brain caught up with his mouth he found himself saying, “Hey, you’re the one who thought he was going to hit me. It ain’t my fault he left.”

Pony’s head shot up, hurt painted across his features, then his expression turned cold. “Geez, I feel bad enough already, you don’t have to remind me.”

Soda shrugged, he should apologize, but found he didn’t want to. “Well, it’s true,” he muttered instead.

“Besides, I’m not the one who got in a fight, you nearly gave Dar a heart attack,” Pony said.

Soda got up from the table, taking his full plate to the sink, whatever appetite he had was gone. “Not you too. Why’s everyone acting like we’re above fighting all of a sudden?”

But Pony shook his head, “You don’t get it, Soda, he was terrified when those police called about you, I think he thought— well, it doesn’t matter.”

Soda should have just walked out and let them both cool off, he was the older brother, he was supposed to keep a clear head. But Soda was tired and he didn’t have it in him today to keep his cool, not when the world felt too sharp. So instead of backing off, he said “That’s the thing though, I do know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How ‘bout the night you ran away, huh? That Bob kid turned up dead? Darry wasn’t exactly doing a jig when the cops showed up on our doorstep.”

Pony’s scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, but that was an accident, I didn’t go out looking for a fight like some people.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t go missing for a week. You know how guilty he felt, I mean, I thought Darry was gonna go crazy worrying over you and blaming himself. That was all you, kid. So what gives you the right to sit there and give me a lecture?”

The words were too far, and both of them knew it. Guilt and regret seared through Soda, and he wished more than anything he could take it back. But they hung between them now, thick in the air like smoke, and there was no room left for Soda’s self-pity.

Pony’s expression had twisted into a fierce anger, something Soda had never seen directed towards him. “What’s your deal, Soda? You screwed up, just own it.”

But the kitchen felt oppressively warm, heat from the stove raising the temperature even higher, and the smell of bacon made him feel queasy. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t hold onto any more guilt, there was nowhere left to put it. So he shook his head and walked to the door, saying, “Whatever, I don’t need this from you today, I’m going to Steve’s.”

Pony nodded, not even looking at him. “Fine, maybe when you come home you’ll be less of an asshole.”

He left Pony alone to clean up the kitchen and wondered if he could outrun his heavy heart.

If Soda thought he’d get any comfort from Steve, he’d been wrong. His friend was angry before Soda even got the chance to speak. “What the hell man, you could have woken my dad up,” he said, in lieu of a hello.

Soda blinked, hand still raised in the air from knocking on his door. The hostility had knocked him off balance. “Sorry, I forgot to call. You wanna hang?”

There hadn’t been a doubt in his mind that Steve would take him up on his offer. Steve knew Soda in a way few others did, had pulled him to shore when he felt like he was drowning more times than Soda could count. But something strange happened. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his chin up in a way Soda knew was him trying to look tuff, and folded his arms across his chest. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured. “That’s a hell of a shiner you got there.”

Soda blinked and gently lifted his hand up to his eye. The skin was swollen and tender. He’d almost forgotten about it with so many other things playing out in his mind, but Steve’s mention of it brought the pain pulsing back.

“Yeah, it was a rough night.”

Steve gave him a look. “What? You’re not gonna tell me how you got it?”

There was something in the lilt of his voice, the angry set of his jaw. Soda knew Steve better than almost anyone, were brothers in every way but blood, and in that moment he knew Steve had heard the whole story.

“Who told you?”

Steve shrugged. “People talk, East Side ain’t as big as you think.”

It’s big enough, he thought, running down the list of people Steve could have talked to; it wasn’t many. He had the sudden urge to ask if he’d heard from Darry, but he didn’t want to sound too desperate, so he pushed the thought aside and said, “Let’s go get breakfast and I’ll tell you about it.”

But Steve’s look remained impassive. He could be cold in a way that unsettled a person down to their core. Soda knew this, he’d just never had it aimed towards him. “You know what? I ain’t all that hungry right now.”

Soda ran his fingers over his temple, head throbbing. “Are you seriously mad at me because I went and roughed up a few Socs?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what’s your deal?”

Steve shrugged. “I ain’t got a deal.”

Soda’s own annoyance was starting to grow. Steve was his best friend, but their closeness came at a cost sometimes, and this was one of those moments; because Steve could get under his skin like nobody else. “Clearly you got a problem, or else we’d be heading to the diner instead of standing around on your front porch.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just wondering why you thought you’d be better off taking on Paul Holden all lone wolf like instead of taking me?”

Soda groaned, he didn’t have it in him to go for a third round. He felt like a live wire, every nerve in his body exposed. If Steve started in on him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his cool. “You told me you didn’t want to fight at the station the other day, remember? Besides I wasn’t alone, Tim’s gang was with me.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that. I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea, but you know I would have backed you anyways, Two-Bit too. If this fight had to happen, we deserved to be there. Darry’s one of us.”

There was a fierceness to his words that made Soda wince. He remembered Steve’s face the night they brought Darry home, battered and broken, the fear and worry that lined his friend’s features. He’d never seen Steve so scared, not even when Johnny or Dally died.

Steve continued, “But instead of trusting us you ran off with Tim Shepard and some half-cocked plan like you didn’t think we’d have your back.”

“What do you want me to say? Tim offered, I took him up on it. That's all. I wasn’t trying to cut you out. It just sort of happened.”

Steve looked away for the first time, his expression closed off, eyes searching for something Soda couldn’t see. When he finally spoke, his words were measured, as if they cost him a great deal. “There ain’t no one in this house but me and my dad, you know? And he ain’t worth nothin’. You guys, your home, that’s all I got. And Dar’s been there for me more than my old man ever was.” He pulled his gaze back to Soda, the tender look in his eye hardening into something angry when he said, “We should have been there, Soda. It weren’t right for you to cut us out like that.”

Soda felt wrung out, shame from so many ways he’d wronged the people he loved crashing over him, but had no clue how to fix. He couldn’t keep doing this, listening to all the ways he failed; he didn’t know how to hold it all.

So Soda did the only thing he could do, he pushed the feeling away, let anger fill in the gaps, because it was so much easier to be angry at the world than it was to be crushed by the weight of his guilt. When he spoke, his voice was hard and he said, “You know what? Forget it, I got enough grief from my brothers, I don’t need it from you too.”

If Soda didn’t know Steve so well, he would have missed the flicker of hurt in his expression before it hardened into something more sinister. “Fine then. Go run to Tim Shepard, maybe his gang will want to hang,” his tone was mocking, and he slammed the door shut before Soda could get in another word.

It was as Soda walked through the chain-linked fence surrounding Steve’s yard that he realized there was nowhere left for him to go, no one safe that he could talk to. If Steve was pissed then Two-Bit would be too, so his place was out. And he certainly didn’t want to bum around the house all day with Pony throwing glares his way.

And if he was being honest with himself he knew, deep down, the one person he really wanted to talk to, that he knew would understand him, who would hear him out and help him work through it, was gone who knows where.

So, he did the only thing he could think of to steady his mind, he ran. He ran until his feet were sore, until he could feel the blisters forming on his toes. He ran past stores and through parks, ran until the sun began heating the earth, sweat dripping from his brow.

He ran through parts of town he’d never explored, streets cracked from tree roots and houses rougher than his own, he ran until they faded into nicer roads, ones that had been paved and had homes with white picket fences. But none of it helped, he couldn’t get away from the ache in his chest no matter how far he traveled.

Then, somewhere along the way, the road he had wandered onto felt familiar in a distant sort of way. The street signs were reminiscent of a time gone by. He looked around, wondering where he’d run himself to when he turned and saw the blinking neon sign. It was Public Records, the place he’d gone to with his dad on his fourteenth birthday and that Darry had brought him to after their parents died.

He stood on the sidewalk, frozen, his feet unwilling to move. He felt like he was in a dream, maybe he was. He hadn’t been back since that day with Darry, had hardly played a record since he dropped out. He wasn’t sure why, and now he wasn’t sure he remembered how.

“You coming in kid or you just gonna stand there all day?”

Soda startled slightly and looked over to find the shop owner giving him a crooked grin. “I ain’t seen you around in a while,” he continued.

Soda blinked. “You remember me?”

The owner nodded. “Yeah, I always remember the ones that the music really speaks to, there’s something different about them. Come on then, we just opened up.”

The owner wasn’t kidding, he was flipping the sign from closed to open as Soda passed over the threshold. The store felt smaller than he remembered, cracked and faded in ways Soda hadn’t noticed before. But the smell of it was the same, as was the way just being there seemed to soften all of Soda’s sharp edges.

He went to a bin of records at random and started filing through the albums. He tried to clear his head, find things that piqued his interest, but his exhaustion was beginning to catch up to him, and they all blurred together. The last time he’d been here his mind had been filled with what felt like an infinite catalogue of music; he knew each album by heart back then. He could list the songs that would play and the instruments he would hear before he even took them back to one of the listening booths. He knew every word of Out of Our Heads by heart, had played My Generation on a loop every night when he was supposed to be studying. But now the albums looked strange and unfamiliar. He hardly recognized anything in the bins.

It was in that moment he realized that he’d forgotten somewhere along the way how to love music. He’d forgotten what it felt like, to whisper the lyrics on his lips and feel the vibration of the instruments deep in his bones. It seemed like a different boy who’d come in here last time, who thought of this place as a safe haven.

The discovery left him with an ache in his chest for a time he couldn’t possibly get back to, and it was too much. He pushed away from the table. It’d been a mistake to come here, he thought, only to be reminded of the ghost of a boy he could no longer be. 

But as he was walking away an album caught his eye. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it. He went back and picked it up, only to have Bob Dylan staring back at him from the cover. He wasn’t sure why he’d been drawn to it, he’d never listened to the album, but then the memory flashed in his mind; finding Darry in the listening booth, playing this same album with a strange look in his eye he couldn’t quite place. Soda turned the album over in his hand, then took it over to the booth and put it on the player.

He listened to the opening of Like a Rolling Stone, the organ and the guitar pulling him into Dylan’s world. Soda closed his eyes and leaned back, allowing the music to wash over him. The easiness of the sound, the anger of the lyrics, the unfairness of it all.

One song faded into another, and he stood there and listened to every one. He wondered what Darry thought that day when he listened to this album. A boy who’d just become a man, who’d lost everything he’d ever dreamt of but had to pretend he was exactly where he wanted to be. Did he ever grieve their parents, Soda found himself wondering for the first time. Did he ever grieve the life he could have had? There was no way for Soda to ever know, but he remembered the day Mrs. Miller came over to their house and they went into Darry’s room, preserved like a shrine for their parents. Then he remembered their old bedroom, where the ghosts of their youth seemed to haunt the walls, and that felt like answer enough.

When he’d finished both sides, he took the album up to the counter. The owner smiled. “Good choice, kid. Highway 61 Revisited is his best album.”

Soda smiled back, and for the first time all day, it felt genuine. “Yeah, my brother always had good taste.”

By the time he’d paid and stepped out onto the street, the air had grown hot and sticky. He’d spent most of his money at Public Records, and he’d skipped out on breakfast, so he was going to have to hike it all the way back to the East Side if he wanted to get something to eat. A task he wasn’t exactly looking forward to.

But before he could make it too far he heard someone call out, “Soda?”

He startled and looked up. His heart leaped because when he looked over, his first thought had been Darry;  the truck looked the same, the sound of the engine so familiar, the voice low like his brother’s. But then he blinked and realized it wasn’t quite right. A Ford, not a Chevy, the paint a bit too red, the man’s hair peppered with too much gray around his temples.

He put a hand up against the sun and realized that while it might not have been Darry, it was his boss, Mr. Cooper, sitting in the truck, window rolled down and smiling.

“Hey, Mr. Cooper, I figured you’d be working today.”

The older man smiled, his skin was tan from hours spent under the sun, eyes creased from years of squinting against it. He wondered if Darry would look like that one day.

“I’m just out getting lunch for the guys, figured they deserved that much considering I got them working on the weekend. We aren’t usually there on Saturdays, but we got a big deadline coming up, having to get some overtime in. I’m sure Darry’s told you all about it.”

Darry hadn’t, but then he hardly ever told them about work, now that Soda thought about it. He couldn’t even name any of the guys Darry worked with besides Mr. Cooper. But Soda nodded anyway. He figured to do otherwise would be rude.

“You need a ride kid? You’ve got a long walk ahead of you.”

Soda was already shaking his head. “It’s alright, really, it ain’t that far.”

But his stomach chose that moment to growl. Mr. Cooper gave him a look and said, “Come on kid, Darry would kill me if I didn’t help you out.” Soda highly doubted that, he actually thought he’d kill Soda for accepting any help from his boss. But honestly, Soda was hot, and hungry, and hadn’t slept a wink last night. So he ended up nodding and said, “That’d be great, thanks,” and got in the passenger side. 

He put the bag under his feet and Mr. Cooper said, “You pick up something good from Public Records?”

Soda blinked. “What?”

Mr. Cooper nodded down to the bag at his feet. “Looks like you picked out something.”

“Oh,” For some reason, outside of the comfort of the store, he felt embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s for Darry, actually. Bob Dylan.”

Mr. Copper nodded, “Yeah, I’ve heard him hum along to Bob Dylan before, seems like a fan.”

Soda laughed despite himself. “Darry? You’re kidding. I don’t even think he knows how to work a radio.”

The older man shrugged. “It’s true, kid’s always getting the party started at work, keeps the older guys on their toes. Makes the day pass a lot faster, I can tell you that.”

Soda couldn’t imagine his stoic brother getting a party started anywhere. But then, he’d been Boy of the Year for a reason at school, why would work be any different? “He always hated when I played music.”

Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Probably an older brother thing, I think they have to hate everything their younger brother does just on principle. At least that’s how my older brother was.”

Soda glanced towards him. “You have brothers too?”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “Yep, one older one younger, just like you. The middle can be an awfully lonely place to be.”

They rode in silence for a while, the rumbling of the engine making Soda sleepy. For the first time since he left to head towards Tim’s last night, he felt himself relax just a fraction.

Before he could get too comfortable though, Mr. Cooper said, “So, is it Darry’s birthday or something?”

Soda looked at him, confused. “No, why?”

The older man shrugged, “Just wondering why you came all the way over to this side of town to pick him up an album.”

Soda wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe it was the quiet hum of the truck that lulled him into a sense of security, maybe it was the exhaustion that made his tongue loose, or maybe it was Mr. Cooper's kind eyes, and the fact that this was the first friendly face he’d seen since the fight. But without quite meaning to, he found himself saying, “Me and Dar had a fight last night, got pretty bad.”

Mr. Cooper nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Whatever reaction Soda had expected from him, it hadn’t been that. “It does?”

“Oh yeah, kid’s been a mess all day, dropping roofing, missing nails, nearly took out Fred this morning with a two-by-four.”

Soda couldn’t say why, but the statement soothed something in him, knowing he wasn’t the only one hurting. Eventually, he sighed and said, “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Mr. Cooper smiled, his voice easy as he said, “Well, you give him the nice album you bought him, for one. Make a big show of it, too, because that’s the easy part.”

“What’s the hard part?”

“You tell him sorry, and you mean it.”

Soda chewed on this for a moment, replaying the fight in his head. “What if I’m not sorry though?”

Mr. Cooper glanced over at him, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity. “Are there parts that you are sorry for?”

Soda thought about it, about all the things he wished he could take back, his brother’s fear, the sharp words he didn’t mean, the hurt he’d caused his brother, the one person who’d given up so much just so he could be happy.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet, “there is.”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “Then you apologize for those parts, and you guys try to find middle ground on the rest.”

Soda scoffed. “You make it sound so easy.”

The older man laughed. “It can be for some people. I feel like it will be for you boys. You care about each other too much.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, Soda watching the cars pass by, then suddenly, he realized something.

“This isn’t the way to my house.”

“No, I imagine it’s not, considering that’s not where we’re going.”

“What? You said you’d give me a ride.”

“Well yeah, I never meant to your house, that assumption’s on you.”

For the first time, Soda felt a hint of worry in his chest; he realized that he’d gotten in the car with a practical stranger. “Then where are we going?”

“The job site, I told you I bought lunch.”

He felt relief for a moment knowing that his face wasn’t going to be plastered on the side of a million milk cartons, but then an even worse thought occurred to him. “I can’t hang out there, Darry’s there.”

Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Well yeah, that’s the point, you two boys need to talk.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be right now,” Soda muttered, slumping down in the passenger seat.

Mr. Cooper sighed and said, “Look if you won’t do it for Darry, do it for me.”

Soda blinked. “What? Why you?”

Mr. Cooper gave him a harried look. “Because, if Darry doesn’t get out of his head and stop feeling guilty, he might really kill one of my guys today. I’m telling you, he’s a mess up there on that roof, you’d never believe that kid had been up a ladder before.”

Soda laughed and felt lighter than he had in days. Because maybe Mr. Cooper was right. If he could fix things with Darry then he knew everything else would fall back into place. He’d make it up to Pony, he’d apologize to Two-Bit and Steve, and somehow, the five of them would figure out how to tackle Paul and his dad together, just like they always had.

Not long after, they made it to the job site. Some subdivision they were building on the south side of town. The road they pulled in on was dirt, still unpaved, and the truck kicked up dust so thick Soda could hardly see. That was probably why it took him so long to notice the flashing blue and red lights sitting in front of one of the houses with only half a roof.

“This job must be a big deal if you got police hanging out around here,” Soda said, glancing over at Mr. Cooper.

But the other man frowned, staring at the cop cars. His expression had shifted, gone were the easy laugh lines around his eyes and the smile pulling at his mouth. Now his brow was furrowed with worry, his mouth pulled down in a frown. Soda knew, with the same certainty he’d had the night that Darry was jumped, that something was wrong.

“Mr. Cooper?”

“Wait here, Soda,” he said getting out of the truck and walking just a little too quick to be casual. The dust was starting to settle and Soda realized there was a group gathered around another one of the cop cars.

He sat there for a moment waiting. Mr. Cooper had faded into the crowd, but that didn’t stop Soda from looking for a familiar face. His face was pressed against the windshield, searching for his brother’s towering figure but he couldn’t find him, the truck was parked too far away.

Something crunched beneath his legs, and he looked down and saw the crumpled brown bag leaning against his seat, the album had ripped a hole in it, he could just make out the side of Bob Dylan’s face.

I’ve got to go find Darry, he thought, I’ve gotta give him his album.

Soda got out of the truck in a daze, hand shaking as he slammed the door, and headed towards the crowd. He pushed his way through, searching for Darry in every face he passed. The smell of sweat and sawdust clung to the men, a smell that this moment would forever ruin for Soda.

He looked from face to face, desperate to see his brother in one of them, his worn eyes, his sun-kissed skin. He would do anything for one of these men watching to be his brother, to catch his eye and yell at him for coming down to his job, for not staying in the truck like his boss had asked. If Soda could just find him, he’d pull him tight in a hug and never let go, he didn’t care how embarrassing it was, or how much his brother tried to pull away. He’d hold him close and say he was sorry, even for the parts he thought he was right about, and promise to never hurt him again.

He pushed through the crowd until he was at the front, there was nothing there but a police car, two cops, and a boy being arrested.

“Darry?” His voice couldn’t have been above a whisper, but it wrecked his throat like he was screaming.

Somehow, despite all the noise, his brother heard him through the crowd, his brother, pressed against the cop car and hands behind his back, turned his head towards Soda. Their eyes locked, and Soda could see the fear painted across his features.

“Pepsi,” Darry said, voice just as quiet.

Suddenly Soda was surging forward, he didn’t even realize he was doing it until someone was grabbing his shoulders, pulling him back.

“He didn’t do anything!” Soda screamed, he could hear the tears in his voice, he hated crying in front of all the strangers, Darry’s coworkers, but he couldn’t help it.

The cop was saying something, but Soda didn’t understand him, he just wanted to get to his brother.

“Soda,” Darry said, voice stronger, but just as broken.

“Let him go!” Tears stung his cheeks, his voice felt raw and ragged.

“We’ll get him out kid, it’ll be alright,” There was a gentle squeeze across his chest, and he realized it was Mr. Cooper holding him back.

“Please, he’s all we got,” Soda’s voice was edging on pleading but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

But then, Darry’s expression grew steady and his calm eyes met Soda’s as he said, “Soda, listen to me.”

“Darry—”

“Call Mrs. Miller,” Darry continued, something desperate in his expression.

“I don’t— why?”

But whatever he meant he didn’t have time to say; they were shoving Darry into the back of the car. His brother managed to glance at him one final time, and Soda watched his expression shift, his eyes soften, his smile turn easy, in the way that reminded Soda of when they were kids. And Soda realized he was pretending for him. Protecting him, even now. “It’ll be okay, Pepsi.”

The cop car took off, flashing lights disappearing in the dusty haze, and what remained of Soda’s youth shattered.

Chapter Text

What happened after was a blur.

There were whispers and broken conversations floating around him but Soda couldn’t understand any of it. The dust was thick and hung in the air, it covered his clothes, clung to his skin; he breathed in and could feel it in his lungs. He took a step and stumbled, he thought he might be sick.

He didn’t know what to do. What was he supposed to do? Without Darry there was no one left, no one he could turn to for advice, no one to get him through.

Distantly, he wondered if this was how Darry felt when their parents died and there was nothing standing between him and the great void of the unknown. Soda didn’t know how he how he carried it all.

Someone guided him through the crowd and away from the parking lot, the men he passed averted their gaze. He blinked and he was in a quieter room, air conditioner whirring and lighting soft. Someone gently pushed him down into a worn vinyl chair that stuck to his legs.

“You gotta breathe kid,” a voice said. Soda blinked against the tears he wouldn’t let fall and realized it was Mr. Cooper.

“He’s all we got left,” Soda heard himself say. He’d been repeating the phrase, he thought. But what else was there to say? It was all that mattered.

“I know kid, we’ll get him out alright? Just breathe.”

Then another thought occurred to him, more urgent than the last, “I need to go down there and see him, they let you do that, right? I’ve seen it in the movies before, people talk on those little telephones between the glass.”

Mr. Cooper bent down so he was level with Soda. The light caught his eyes, and Soda thought they looked misty. “It won’t do you any good to go down there today.”

Soda shook his head, how could he make him understand? “But I need to make sure he’s okay. He’s there all by himself.”

He could picture Darry sitting in some cold cell alone and terrified. The noises strange, the people cruel. What if Chief Holden was there? What could he do to Darry when there was no one around to protect him? Darry wouldn’t have taken no for an answer if it was him or Pony being locked up, Soda owed him at least that much.

But Mr. Cooper gave him a gentle smile. “Listen to me Soda, alright? They won’t let you see him today. They still gotta book him, that takes time.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? I need to check on him. He’d do it for us.” He tried to sound tuff, but it came out broken.

“Tomorrow they’ll take him in front of a judge to determine bail. They won’t let you talk to him, but you boys can at least see him. You and Pony can write character letters for that if you want, that’ll do your brother the most good.”

“What’s that do?”

Mr. Cooper sighed. “Makes him more sympathetic to the judge. The D.A.’s office shouldn’t put up too much of a fuss, but you can never be too sure. The chances are good though that he’ll make bail and that’ll get him home until the trial at least.”

But Soda could feel the panic seize him as another fear bulldozed the others. “We won’t have the money for bail though. We couldn’t even take him to the hospital after he got jumped. My paycheck won’t be enough.”

Soda was kicking himself. Why had he not prepared for this? Why had he not done more, taken extra shifts, looked for a second job, asked Darry to get him a job at Mr. Cooper’s, something. Anything. He’d known this was coming, Darry had known this was coming, why hadn’t they done more?

“We’ll figure something out kid, you got a lot of people in your corner.”

Soda shook his head. “No, it’s gotta be us. Darry would kill me if he thought anyone was helping.”

Mr. Cooper gave him a tight smile. “No offense, Soda, but I don’t think Darry’s in much of a position to be making those sorts of calls.”

It hit him then like a freight train, all of this was on Soda’s shoulders now. And not just getting Darry out of prison, everything. Paying bills, keeping the lights on, keeping Pony in school, keeping him fed. It would all be up to him now. Panic wrapped around his heart and made a home in his chest. He couldn’t do it all, he couldn’t handle it all. He couldn’t be enough without Darry. 

Mr. Cooper’s voice brought him back to the present. It was soft and even, and helped steady his mind. “Where’s that brother of yours at?”

Soda blinked, unable to follow the turn of the conversation. “In that cop car, I guess, I don’t think they’ve had time to make it to the station.”

Mr. Cooper gave him a small smile. “No, the other one, Ponyboy.”

“I don’t— home maybe? Or no, I think he had practice? I can’t remember.”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “You need to go home and talk to him, okay? Tell him what’s happened.”

Soda’s breath caught. He wasn’t sure Pony would want to talk to him at all after this morning, how was he supposed to tell him this?

Soda ran a hand through his hair, “I can’t— I don’t even know what to say.”

Mr. Cooper gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “You’ll know when you see him Soda, don’t worry about it.”

Soda finally looked up and held the older man’s gaze, it was steady. Soda searched for answers there but could find none. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because if you two boys are half as close as Darry said, then you know what he needs to hear. That’s why it’s gotta be you, kid, it’d be cruel to have it come from anybody else.”

Soda nodded, he knew he was right, he just didn’t know how he was going find the words, he wasn’t sure they existed.

Mr. Cooper studied Soda, seeming to take him in, and then nodded and said, “Alright, there’s one last thing you need to do today.”

Soda nearly groaned, he was already running on empty, and he wasn’t sure he could make it through much more. But he straightened his shoulders and said, “What’s that?”

“Make sure you talk to Mrs. Miller today.”

Dread crept back into Soda’s heart. “Why today?”

Mr. Cooper held his gaze as if trying to convey his words’ importance. “It must have been pretty important for Darry to tell you right then. Talk to Pony first, then go see her straight away, got me?”

Soda nodded, but he couldn’t possibly see how it’d do much good. All she’d want to do is split them up, wouldn’t they be better off keeping her out of the loop as long as possible?

Mr. Cooper sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. When he turned back to Soda he gave him a considering look. “Darry probably wouldn’t want me telling you this, but someone needs to. This is going to be tough on him, in some ways even tougher than when your parents died.”

Soda flashed back to the never ending pit of despair he’d felt trapped in the months after they lost their parents, he wasn’t sure anything could be worse, not even this. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Cooper spoke slowly as if choosing his words carefully. “Everyone feels sorry for an orphaned kid looking out for his brothers, but they’re gonna scorn a man from the East Side stealing from a staple in the West Side community, even if he had good reasons to do it.”

Soda’s eyes narrowed. “But he didn’t have a good reason to do it. He didn’t do anything.”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “I know kid, I don’t doubt that for a second, but a lot of these people are gonna be looking for an excuse to hate your brother, and the Tulsa Police just gave it to them.”

Soda chewed on that for a minute. They didn’t call Darry Boy of the Year for nothing. He’d always had one foot in both worlds and somehow made it look easy. He managed to be the football captain on Friday night with a bunch of Socs, then ran around Saturday like a madman stirring up hell with the Greasers. Soda always knew some of the Greasers didn’t like it, thought Darry acted like he was a step above the rest, but he’d never considered the Socs thinking he wasn’t good enough to be one of them. 

Mr. Cooper continued, “I know that he wants you two boys to still be kids, he’s fought hard to make that happen since your parents died. But you and Pony are both going to have to step up and take on bigger responsibilities, you especially. A lot’s going to be on your shoulders during this trial, but Darry needs you to be there for him, okay? He’s not going to be able to be the pillar for you boys he usually is, that’s gonna have to be you. Do you think you can handle all that?”

Soda nodded, trying desperately to push his fear away. Mr. Copper was right, he needed to be there for Darry. He just didn’t know if he’d be enough. “Of course.”

Mr. Cooper nodded, then patted Soda on the shoulder. “Alright then kid, go find that little brother of yours, it’s time you boys started making a plan.”

The air was hot and sticky when he stepped through their front door, the silence of the empty house almost stifling. He was never there alone, there was always one of his brothers running around or any number of Greasers eating cake and watching cartoons. Except, apparently, for today, when there was nothing there to greet him except the smell of burnt toast and bacon that still clung to the air from breakfast. Soda blinked against the darkness of the living room and waited for his eyes to adjust.

“Pony, you here?” He called out despite knowing he wasn’t.

He was met with more silence. After a moment, he flipped the light switch by the front door and went to hang up the keys on the hook when he stopped cold.

Because there, hanging by the door was Darry’s tool belt, sitting beneath it his work boots. They could only mean one thing.

Darry was home.

He walked through the house searching for his brother before he even realized what he was doing. He turned the corner into the kitchen expecting to see Darry sitting at the kitchen table only to find dirty dishes and a stack of bills. He opened the backdoor hoping to see him sitting on the stoop but there was nothing there but dead grass and a sharp blast of hot air. He turned again and headed down the hall and called out Darry’s name. 

He had his hand on the knob to his brother’s room before it all came crashing back to him; their fight, Pony shoving him, Darry leaving in the night with nothing but his truck keys and the clothes on his back. It hadn’t occurred to Soda before, but he’d left his tool belt there. His work boots there. Of course he had. He would have come back for them tonight, and then what? Would they have talked it out, would he have listened to the apologies Pony and Soda had planned? Would he have apologized too, taken them out for ice cream, or even splurged on a movie? They hadn’t fought like this since their parents died, hadn’t fought like this ever now that Soda thought about it. How hard would it have been to forgive each other? Now he’d never know.

He tightened his hand around the doorknob and for a moment he considered going in. But then he let his hand fall to his side and hang there. 

He couldn’t be here alone only to be haunted by the ghost of his brother. It was too similar to when their parents died. Except Darry had been there to soften the blow before, who did he have now?

I could run. The thought struck him out of nowhere. He could run and never stop. Get away from the house, the walls closing in, all the things that were keeping him trapped here.

But he pushed the thought away as quickly as it came. He was bone-weary, he didn’t think he had the strength left to run. And even if he did he couldn’t leave Pony there alone to try and pick up the pieces. He couldn’t leave Darry frightened in a cell.

Besides, running wouldn’t give him the thing he really wanted, a chance to talk to Darry. He knew there was no point in going down to the station, but he still dreamt of it the entire drive home, had to stop himself from turning Darry's truck around and heading back into town at least a dozen times. He was itching to go and demand they let him see his brother, a glimpse of him would be enough; just to know that he was still alive, and okay, and remind them both that they could make it through. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. And now standing in this house alone felt like its own kind of prison.

He turned down the hall and headed back to the living room. If he couldn’t talk to Darry he could do the next best thing. He sat in Darry’s recliner, picked up the phone, and dialed a number he knew by heart. It rang long enough that Soda started worrying that no one would answer, but finally, he heard the line click on. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

He heard Steve shuffle the phone in his hand then sigh. “What? Calling for round two? Forget it Soda, I’m not in the mood.”

But the emotion he’d been trying to push down was catching up to him, and he didn’t think he could hold it any longer. “Steve,” Soda said.

Steve’s tone shifted when he asked, “What happened?” Just like Soda knew he would because Soda would have done the same thing if Steve had called like this, no matter how bad their fight had been.

“It’s Darry, I don’t— he—” But Soda couldn’t say it. How could he say it? How could it be true that his brother was arrested?

Soda wasn’t making sense, but that didn’t matter. Steve simply said, “I’ll get Two-Bit and we’ll be there in a few minutes okay?”

“‘Kay,” Soda said not trusting himself to say more. He held on tight to the phone, the only thing grounding him. There was silence for a long time, so long he thought Steve had hung up. But after a minute, he was startled when he heard his friend’s voice again. 

“Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

It was the final nail in the coffin for Soda. He placed the phone back on the cradle, slumped back in Darry’s recliner, and finally allowed himself to cry.

Soda wasn’t sure how Two-Bit and Steve could make any sense of what he was telling them. Between the fight, no sleep, running around town all morning, and watching Darry get arrested, Soda was a wreck. He could hardly make heads or tails of what was going on.

But still, Soda told them everything, all of it pouring out in a desperate sort of way he couldn’t stop. Darry’s friendship with Paul, Chief Holden’s threats, Darry’s worry, why he took Tim up on the fight, all of it. He didn’t think he could hold it in any longer.

Two-Bit guided him to the kitchen table as Soda recounted the story and the next thing he knew, there was a ham sandwich and a slice of cake sitting in front of him. Soda hadn’t eaten since yesterday, but the thought of doing so now made him sick.

Finally, he ran out of words. Only one last thing weighed heavy on his mind. “And now Darry wants me to go talk to Mrs. Miller.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Two-Bit asked.

Soda scoffed. “She works for the state, what do you think is gonna happen?”

Two-Bit shrugged. “Couldn’t say, never met the woman. Darry knows her better than you, though, right? Maybe there’s something you ain’t seeing.”

Soda shook his head. “You didn’t see him, Two-Bit, he was freaked.” Soda couldn’t get Darry’s frightened face out of his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and continued, “What if he wasn’t thinking straight? I mean, why the hell would he think she’d be any help? It ain’t like the state’s ever done anything for us before.”

“Dar ain’t an idiot, Soda. He’s always ten steps ahead of the rest of us. The guy should’ve taken up chess or something.”

Soda pushed away from the table, Two-Bit frowned at his untouched plate of food. “But what if he’s wrong? What if she's been waiting for something like this to happen? And now that Darry can’t do nothing, she can finally split us up.”

“Hey,” Steve called, Soda turned to find him leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Steve hadn’t said a word since he’d hung up the phone and a part of Soda was thankful. He couldn’t handle his friend's harsh words right now, no matter how much he might deserve them. “You trust Darry, right?”

Soda nodded. “Of course I do.”

Steve shrugged. “Then relax about the Mrs. Miller thing. He knows his stuff. As far as the rest goes, we’ll figure it out.”

“You think?”

Steve shrugged, a smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, I mean, you got me and Two-Bit to back you, right? What could happen?”

There was something gentle and reassuring in his gaze that Soda latched on to. Steve and Soda hardly ever fought, they never quite knew how to be angry with each other for long.

Soda took a step towards his friend. “Steve—” he started but didn’t know how to finish.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. We got bigger fish to fry now. Just don’t go running off to Shepards’s gang to fix it this time. We all know how well that went.”

He couldn’t say why he did it, maybe it was the exhaustion making him sentimental, or the fear taking up so much space in his chest, or perhaps he just missed his best friend. But the reason didn’t matter. He stepped forward and pulled Steve into a hug, something he knew his friend would hate, but Soda couldn’t find it in him to care.

He felt Steve stiffen, and Soda said, “Sorry, Steve, for everything.”

Steve relaxed, just a fraction, and hugged him back. “Whatever man, don’t be such a girl.” But Soda could hear the gentleness in his tone and he knew they’d be all right. 

When Soda finally pulled away, he turned and found himself face to face with Two-Bit, arms outstretched and a shit-eating grin on his face. “What? I don’t get a hug too?”

Soda rolled his eyes and gave him a shove, “I didn’t do nothing to you, dumbass.”

Two-Bit gave him a pouting expression that shocked a laugh out of Soda. “Au contraire mi amigo. You got Superman all riled up and knocking on my door at three in the morning. Ruined my beauty sleep and everything. I’m gonna be getting wrinkles now, and it’s all your fault.”

Soda blinked. “He went to your house last night?” He said quietly.

Two-Bit seemed to realize what he’d just revealed because his expression softened. “Yeah man, we had a real tuff sleepover. Mom told us to keep it down and everything. You missed quite the party.”

The sentence settled something in Soda, knowing where Darry had run off to. He hadn’t gone out on the town or spent the night wandering around, he’d simply gone to Two-Bit’s house, a friend for comfort, and more importantly, he hadn’t spent his last night of freedom alone. 

He wanted to ask Two-Bit about a hundred more questions, but then the door creaked open. Soda’s heart leaped and he turned to find Pony, sweat soaked and breathing heavily, finally home from practice.

When Pony turned and caught sight of the three older boys standing there he jumped about a foot in the air. “What the hell are you guys doing standing around all silent like that? About gave me a heart attack.”

Two-Bit looked between the two brothers and asked quietly, “You want us to clear out?”

Soda shook his head, “Nah, I think it’s alright.”

Pony gave them a strange look. “You guys are freaking me out. You’re acting like someone died or something.”

No one said anything, Two-Bit and Steve letting Soda take the lead, and Soda unsure of what to say. Pony’s eyes widened as he looked around the ragtag group standing in front of him. “Darry isn’t— nothing happened did it?” There was a panicked tone to his voice that made Soda realize what he thought.

But before he could reassure his brother Steve cut in, “Sheesh, the guy ain’t dead Pony, quit being so dramatic.”

Pony’s worried eyes hardened when they turned towards Steve. “Well sorry, it’s not like we have a great track record with people dying.”

Soda sighed. Mr. Cooper might have thought he’d know what to say when it came down to it, but Soda was just as confused as before. “But you’re not exactly wrong, Pone. Something did happen.”

Pony’s gaze locked on Soda’s, fear creeping in just around the edges. “Did he get hurt or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He’s fine, got all his limbs and everything. It’s, well—”

Soda opened his mouth then closed it again willing the words to come out, but they felt stuck in his throat. Every eye in the room was trained on him and he was messing the whole thing up. If Darry had been here he’d know what to say, then Soda could have swooped in and done damage control. It was a dance that was familiar to him. But this? How was he supposed to break his brother’s heart?

Pony studied him for a minute, waiting for him to finish, but when it was clear Soda had run out of words he sighed and said, “Then what could be so bad? Come on Soda, just tell me, I can take it.”

When the words finally came out they were a jumbled mess, rushed and awkward. He blurted out “He was arrested” so quickly he wasn’t sure anyone could understand them. But Pony did, it was clear by the look of horror growing on his brother’s face.

“No,” Pony said quietly. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m sorry, Pone, it is,” Soda said, voice gentle. Now that it was out in the open, a small part of Soda relaxed. He could comfort his brother. This part he had done before.

But Pony shook his head. “No,” he said, more forcefully, “Not Darry. He won’t even drive over the speed limit, and he takes the shopping cart all the way back to the front of the grocery store. I mean, hell, I can’t even dog ear my library books without him giving me a hard time. He can’t be arrested, he doesn’t ever do anything wrong.”

He was right, Darry had always had his head on his shoulders, even before their parents had died and he’d had to grow up too fast. The thought of him being the one in jail would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. “I saw him get arrested, kid, I was there.”

“When?” He asked, his eyes suspiciously glassy.

“At work today, I went over to talk to him.”

Pony started pacing. “He’s always going on about us keeping our nose clean or else we’ll end up in a boys home. So what’s gonna happen now? It’s gotta be about ten times worse that it’s our guardian in jail.”

That had been worrying Soda too, but he didn’t say that. “I don’t know Pony, I’m gonna talk to Mrs. Miller—”

Pony stopped dead in his tracks, the look he gave Soda was one of betrayal. “Mrs. Miller? Why would you talk to her? She’ll just split us up.”

Soda shrugged, aware he’d just had this very conversation with his friends, but sometimes it was easier doing the convincing instead of being convinced. “Darry asked me too, it was the last thing he said. I gotta trust his call, Pony, I owe him that much.”

Pony stared at Soda for a long time, breath ragged. Soda could see the fear in his eyes hardening into something more sinister, and when he spoke his voice shook. “I guess you do since this is all your fault anyways.”

Soda flinched the words cutting through him.

“Woah, kid, you might wanna cool it there,” Two-Bit said.

Pony shook his head. “No, it’s true. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gone after Paul. Now his dad’s pissed and taking it out on Darry and it’s all your fault.”

Steve gave his brother a hard look. “He could have gone after Darry anyway, we have no way of knowing.”

But Soda knew Pony was right; he’d seen Chief Holden’s gaze in the police station last night. Could still hear his words I don’t forget echoing in his mind. He was a man who didn’t like being made a fool of, and Soda had done just that.

“I’m sorry, Pone, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Pony scoffed and shook his head, walking back towards the door. Soda’s heart flipped and he said, “Hey, where you going?” 

“Out for a bit.”

“Want us to come with you?” Soda said, he didn’t think he could handle Pony heading out in a fit of anger right now, it never seemed to end well for them.

“I’m good, thanks.”

But Two-Bit must have caught something in Soda’s tone because he said, “Mind if I tag along? This place is starting to bring me down, no offense.”

Pony rolled his eyes and said, “I ain’t a little kid, Two-Bit. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Two-Bit gave him an affronted look. “Who said anything about a babysitter? I’m just getting hungry, was thinking of getting some ice cream.”

“No ice cream,” Pony said with something heavy in his tone that made Soda study him for a moment until he deflated a little and said, “I guess I’ll head to the diner with you. Don’t really feel like sitting at the counter anyways.”

Two-Bit flashed Soda and Steve one final grin and then they were gone. Silence filled up the void.

Steve studied Soda for a long time, long enough to make Soda squirm.

“What?”

Steve shrugged. “He’ll come around, just give the kid some time, he practically worships you.”

But Soda knew that too much heartache had passed through their family, he wasn’t sure they could take much more.

“I don’t know Steve, if I were him, I don’t think I’d come around either.”

About an hour later Soda was at the Department of Human Resources knocking on Mrs. Miller’s office door, trying desperately not to throw up.

She opened the door and gave him a tired smile. “Soda, what a pleasant surprise, please have a seat.”

He sat in the green vinyl chair and looked around. Her office was nothing like what he had imagined. Dark stained paneling made the room feel like he had entered into a cave, and the children’s drawings Mrs. Miller had tacked up in an attempt to liven up the room did little to help. Her desk was covered in papers and files, so many that they practically spilled onto the floor. The chaos of it made Soda feel dizzy; he couldn’t imagine trying to get any work done there.

“How are you doing? I must say I was surprised when Silvia called and said you were here, I don’t think you’ve been to the office before, have you?”

Soda shook his head. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.

She waited a minute for him to answer, but when it was clear he wasn’t, she smiled and said, “Well, what can I help you with today?”

Soda cleared his throat and sat up straighter, trying to will the words out of his mouth. “Darry—” he started but froze.

It was no easier here than it had been at home. He wanted to say it, he needed to say it. It was the last thing Darry asked him to do, but he was terrified of the domino effect it would cause by saying it here in this building. What would happen to them? To Darry? What if they were taken away and they could no longer help him? How did they know this woman was someone they could trust?

Mrs. Miller’s eyes softened, and she leaned forward, voice becoming gentle, “Soda, was your brother arrested?”

He whipped his head up, eyes locking on hers. “What— how did you know?” He asked, voice harsher than was probably smart.

She sighed and began going through the files on her desk, searching for something. “Your brother was… concerned after my visit to your house a few months ago. He came to me to see if there could be some sort of contingency plan for you boys in case this happened. A will of sorts, though perhaps not quite so morbid. When it started looking like this scenario was more likely, he made some finalizing decisions. We had hoped that this might be pushed back a few months, you’d be eighteen then, but this timeline should work just as well.”

“I’m sorry, what exactly are we talking about here?” Soda asked. 

Mrs. Miller smiled. “Sorry, this is all quite a lot, I know. Let’s start with the most pressing matter. He’s started the paperwork for custody of Ponyboy to be transferred to you on your eighteenth birthday.”

Soda stared at her, a roaring in his ears so loud he could hardly hear. “What of Pony?”

“Custody. He felt it would be best for both you and Pony. But the decision is ultimately up to you. We can of course keep Pony in Darry’s custody, and if the worst case scenario happens, Pony would be placed in a boys home until his eighteenth birthday.”

“No!” Soda said, then blushed. “I mean, no ma’am, of course, I’d be his guardian, I just, well, isn’t this jumping the gun a little?”

“Paperwork wise, it’d be simpler if we could change this before Darry was convicted— not that he will be, that’s the worst case scenario obviously. Plus, there’d be less chance of Pony ending up in a home even for a temporary placement while things switched over.”

Something about this felt overwhelming, and sad, like they were cutting Darry out of their lives.

She clicked her tongue and glanced up from the files for the first time. “There is one pressing concern, however, that I’m afraid I must bring up. Have you found out if he’ll make bail?”

Soda shook his head. “We won’t find out until tomorrow, the judge is supposed to see him at 9:30.” He’d gotten the phone call right before he left the house.

She wrote something down on the sheet of paper in front of her and asked, “And when’s your birthday?”

“October eighth.”

She nodded.“Right. A little over a month, that’s not too bad. I can allow you boys to stay in the house alone for a few days— three tops, and that’s really pushing it— but if he doesn’t make bail then I’m afraid I’ll have to put you both in a boys home until your birthday, and Pony a bit longer as we switch over the paperwork. I’m sorry Soda, it’s the best I can do.”

This brought up the problem of how, exactly, Soda was going to pay for bail, if Darry even got it, but he pushed the thought to the side, there was only so many things he could worry about at once.

Instead, he asked an easier question, one he had no control over. “Ain’t I too young?”

She shook her head, glancing down at the files on her desk again in search of something. “Legally speaking, once you’re eighteen it’s fine, and this is a rather unusual circumstance. Though it’s not an option I particularly like, I’ll be the first to admit, but your brother seems convinced that this would be the best option for the two of you. But I’ll be honest, if he hadn’t been so willing to work with me throughout the process I might have been more skeptical.”

She looked up at Soda and gave him a sharp look that only made Soda’s nerves grow. “There are some conditions that must be met, however.”

“Okay…”

She folded her hands on the table and held his gaze. “This part should be easy since you and your brother have talked about it. But you’ll of course have to go back to school.”

Soda’s breath caught in his chest, because they had most certainly not talked about it. Darry knew him, had been the one who let him drop out, why would he take that back now?

And even if he did manage to swallow his pride and go back it’d be so much worse. Not only would he be two grades behind all his friends, he’d be in Pony’s grade. How embarrassing would that be? Stuck in the same grade as your little brother, the kid you were supposed to be the guardian of? And then worse than him at school? He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t do it, there had to be another way. Why would Darry think he’d ever agree to that?

But before he could argue, Mrs. Miller held up her hand. “Let me finish, I don’t mean go back to high school, Darry made it clear that wouldn’t be an option you would enjoy. But there are other ways, taking your GED for one.”

“My GED?” He looked at the pamphlet she slid over towards him with the words IS THE GED RIGHT FOR YOU? Printed in big bold letters across the front.

“I don’t— but how?”

“You’d take the test and it’d be the equivalent to getting your high school diploma. You’d be able to go to a trade school then, move up a bit, get a job that pays better.”

She looked up from the files on her desk and must have seen something desperate in his expression because she said, “Has he not talked to you about this? I remember him mentioning you being interested in trade school.”

Soda shook his head, the only plans for the future he’d ever considered were signing up for the war when he turned eighteen. But then all of this had happened and he’d pushed the thought away. “No, he hasn’t said a word.”

“Well, it would be a bit of a long road, but if you could pay for the test and pick up a trade, then you’d be in a position to show the court that you’ll be able to take care of Pony financially on your own.”

Soda shook his head. “Even if I do manage all that, won’t trade school take too long?”

“The quicker you get your GED passed, the quicker we can look into you joining a program you’re interested in. Some programs you start working immediately in an apprenticeship, and the pay would already be better than what you’re making now. Plus, there are grants and scholarships I can help you apply for as far as schooling goes. Considering your situation, those should be able to cover most if not all of the cost.”

Soda stared at the pamphlet in his hand. All of this was overwhelming, but there was one thought his mind couldn’t let go of. “He had all of this planned?”

Mrs. Miller nodded. “He’s been looking into tech school for you since you dropped out if I remember correctly. That’s why I assumed you knew about all this. I thought it was something you had told him you were interested in. Speaking of, let me give you this.”

She dug deeper into the pile on her desk and pulled out a file with Soda’s name printed on the side. “He flagged some things he thought you’d be interested in, he left it here last week which makes me wonder—” She paused, giving the file a considering look, then gave a slight shake of her head. “Well, anyhow, you can take this with you if you’d like and look it over, it’d probably give you a better idea of where his head was at.”

Soda looked down at the file in his hand, saw his brother's neat handwriting scrawled across the front. “I’m not sure I can do all this,” he said quietly.

She gave him a small smile. “It’s a lot to spring on you at once. But Darry seemed to think you could manage just fine, and though I can’t say I know your brother well, he seems to be a pretty good judge of character. Just think about it and let me know what you decide. Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

Soda nodded, and as he left the office, dazed, he wondered how he’d walked in with a future that was swampy and filled with unknown, and walked out with one so ironclad that he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Soda couldn’t sleep. It shouldn’t have been hard, he’d been awake for nearly forty-eight hours, and yet there he lay, eyes wide opened and mind racing with so many thoughts he couldn’t begin to detangle them. He felt Pony stir when he rolled over for what must have been the dozenth time in the past ten minutes, so he sighed and peeled himself out of bed. No sense in keeping Pony up, too. 

He went to the kitchen to grab some milk and wondered what time it was— he might be able to catch the last half hour of Johnny Carson— but then he stopped cold when he saw the file sitting on the kitchen counter. 

He hadn’t looked at it when he left Mrs. Millers, hadn’t even mentioned it to Pony, not that Pony wanted to talk to him about much of anything right now. Instead, he tried to push the thoughts of his meeting with her to the furthest corner of his mind. It was stupid and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He thought he might drown if he gave it too much thought.

But now, standing there in the dark quiet of the night he considered it for the first time. What had Darry thought of his future? What sort of hopes and dreams had he planned for his kid brother? Darry spent so much time talking about getting Pony to college that Soda hadn’t realized he’d given his own future much thought, but maybe Soda just hadn’t been paying attention.

Before he could second guess himself, he grabbed the file and took it into their parents' room, Darry’s room, and sat down on the bed that had their mother’s quilt, corners tucked just like their dad liked them. He took a deep breath, counted to three, then opened the file. The first page was a sheet of paper ripped out of a notebook, edges torn away from the spiral. It had Darry’s neat handwriting sprawled across it, Soda would recognize it anywhere.

Soda glanced over it and his heart stopped. A letter, Darry had left a letter in the file. His last desperate plea that he go talk to Mrs. Miller suddenly made more sense. He’d left this there for him to find.

He took a breath, steadying himself, and then read:

Soda—

If you’re reading this letter, that means something’s happened. I’m in jail, or you two knuckleheads really have run me into an early grave. And honestly? I think the latter is more likely.

When Mom and Dad died, I kept looking for answers from them, some sign or something that told me what I should do, or what they thought was the right call, or what they thought about anything. I’m not dead yet (well, at least I hope that’s not why you're reading this letter), but it might feel like I’m too far away to talk to. I don’t think I have any more answers than you do, but I can at least give you this. I would have liked to have something like this when they died, I think it would have made things easier in a way.

The rest of this file lays out some different options for you and Pony in case I don’t get out just to make things easier for you guys. It’s not ideal, I know, and we haven’t talked about trade school except once or twice in passing. But I think it’d be good for you, Soda. And not just because it’d be easier to keep you and Pony together. I honestly think you could find something there that you really love and are passionate about and be a really good thing for you in the long run. And if you hate it? Then we can figure out another way. There are always options kid, don’t forget that.

I should have talked to you about all this when I had a chance, I know that. You don’t know how many times I’ve nearly blurted out this whole thing. Because the truth, Soda, is I knew something like this was going to happen. The Holdens have too much power, and I’m just some kid from the wrong side of town. But every time I thought about telling you, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. You’ve been so happy since you dropped out, you know? You got to be a kid for a while longer, and you had that Hollywood smile again that you’re so fond of. It was selfish of me, but I missed my little brother, and it was nice to have him back for a few months, even if I knew it couldn’t last.

I know it’s not fair of me to put this on your shoulders when I can’t even handle it myself, and believe me when I say I wish I didn’t have to. But you’re the only one who can keep this family together, Soda. I failed you and Pony every single day. I lost my temper more than I should, I missed track meets and forgot to pay bills. I couldn’t even be brave enough to tell you the truth about how serious this whole allegation was.

But you Soda? You’ll do it better than I ever did. Everyone adores you kid, Pony, Two-Bit, even Steve, and that kid doesn’t like anybody. You’re smart as a whip and clever as hell, and if anyone can do this, it’s you.

If you don’t take anything else from this letter, take this: I don’t want you growing up hating life and always asking what if. I hate that you’re tangled up in this situation with me, and I so wish I could protect you from all of it, but I know I can’t. But what I can do is everything in my power to make sure you and your brother are happy. I’m not sure this is the answer, but if not, then we’ll figure it out like we always do, and the rest will fall into place.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough Soda, and sorry I can’t be there now.

Love ya, Pepsi, I don’t say that enough. And whatever you choose, know I’m proud of you always.

Darry

Soda flipped through the file, and sure enough, there was Darry’s neat handwriting next to circled options listing out pros and cons. 

Soda read through them all, pouring over all of Darry’s thoughts, phrases like a bit tedious, but sounds similar to being a mechanic, might be like working on car engines all day? or talk to Bob down at the salvage yard, his son is an electrician, Soda would like the analytical side, but need more info.

Soda marveled at the file and how much thought Darry had put into it, all the ways he’d tried to fight for his brothers to be happy knowing he wouldn’t be around. No one had done this for Darry, Soda realized. Their parent’s death had been so sudden, and they’d been so young, that nothing had been put into place after they died. Darry had to pave the way on his own, a frightened twenty year old, just to keep their family together.

But he hadn’t wanted Soda to go through that, he’d tried to plan out as much as he could, knowing what the future would hold for him, just to make it simpler for his brothers. Soda could feel his brother’s love pouring out of every page in the file, and his heart ached with a grief he hadn’t yet let himself feel.

He wanted to see his brother, just to make sure he was okay. Talk to him, give him a hug, tell him sorry for how stupid he’d been, and protect him from a world that seemed hellbent on tearing him down. But he could do none of this, so he read the letter again, over and over, until the words seemed to be written across his mind.

“Soda?”

He looked up to see Pony standing in the doorway. Soda quickly wiped his eyes, he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

“Hey, Pone, did ya have a nightmare?”

Pony nodded, bleary-eyed. “Didn’t know where you were, got worried.”

“Sorry, want me to come back?”

Pony paused and gave him a sheepish look. “Actually, you think Dar would mind if we stayed in here? Just for tonight.”

Soda smiled, “You know what kid? I don’t think he’d mind at all.”

Pony crawled into bed next to Soda. It was bigger then than Pony’s, it was nice to have the extra room. 

Soda wanted to fall asleep but he knew he couldn’t, not until he said the one thing that had been plaguing his thoughts.

“Hey Pony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about missing your track meet.”

There was a long pause, and finally, Pony said, “I’m sorry I said all this was your fault, I didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said either.”

He heard Pony sigh, and Soda wondered why these conversations were always simpler under the cloak of night.

When Pony spoke again his voice was more sure. “We can’t do that again, going around blaming each other and ourselves. You know that, right? We won’t be any good for Darry if we spend all our time hating each other.”

Soda nodded even though he knew Pony couldn’t see it. It’d be easy not to blame Pony, but harder not to blame himself. He wondered if that was possible.

But Soda didn’t say any of that, just reached a hand over and ruffled Pony’s hair and said, “Since when did you learn to use that brain of yours? I thought you were just letting it sit up in your head collecting dust.”

Pony managed to slap him away. “It helps that I’ve picked up at least one book in my life, unlike some people.”

Soda laughed and listened to the hum of the air conditioner in the window, the whir of the fan, could smell the detergent lingering on the sheets. And for the first time in over twenty four hours, finally, Soda fell asleep.

Chapter Text

“You know, there’s not a lot of people I’d get this dress up for,” Two-Bit said, pulling at the collar on his shirt for the tenth time in the past five minutes.

Steve scoffed. “Tell me about it. I ain’t ever seen you clean up like this, not even for a date.”

“I didn’t even know you owned a shirt without a stain on it,” Pony said, bobbing his head in agreement. 

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. “Har dee har. Sure, make fun at my expense, like I’m not here suffering at nine in the morning to support my friend.”

“What do you think we’re doing, catching a movie?” Steve asked.

“Guys, can you quiet down? I can’t think.” Soda cut in, not even looking up from the piece of paper he had in his hand.

Steve gave the others a look before he said, “Sorry man, we’ve just been hanging out here forever. We’re bored as hell,” with a tone that wasn’t exactly apologetic.

Normally, Soda might feel guilty because it was true, they’d gotten to the courthouse nearly an hour before they needed to only to have Soda park them at a bench outside in the hot summer sun so he could go over his letter to the judge. He could have just as easily done this exact same thing at home, or at least inside the courthouse, but his nerves were too sharp and he needed to move before they consumed him. And perhaps even more than that, he couldn’t bear to step foot in the courthouse. Not a second before he had to. He didn’t think he was ready to see his brother in chains.

And today of all days he felt he was within his right to be a little high maintenance, so instead of apologizing he gave Steve a look and said, “You know I’ve got to get this thing perfect. A lot’s riding on this, man.”

“You mean the letter? What’s left to do? I thought you said you finished it already,” Two-Bit said, trying to glance over Soda’s shoulder to read it, but Soda shoved him away.

He and Pony had spent all morning working on it in between bites of breakfast and pilfering their closets for something courtroom appropriate, whatever that meant. Since Pony was the writer of the family, he’d done the bulk of the work which left Soda with the task of reading it out in court. It had seemed like a fair trade off at the time, but now that he was here, minutes away from the hearing that determined their brother’s future for the next few months, Soda wished he was a better writer.

“I did, it’s just— I don’t know. What the heck am I supposed to say? ‘Pretty please your honor let my brother get out of jail?’ I’m just making sure it sounds good.”

Pony gave him an affronted look with no real heat behind it and said, “Hey, I wrote it, so you don’t have to worry about that, I can promise you it sounds good.”

Soda rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I’m making sure I can read it good. I can’t be in there stumbling over my words, what if that gets on the judge's nerves or something? I mean do any of us really know how this thing works? For all we know he could deny Darry bail just because my shirt doesn’t match my pants.”

Soda was starting to spiral, and they all knew it. Two-Bit patted him on the shoulder and gave him a gentle smile. “It’ll be fine, Soda. Besides, didn’t Darry’s boss say there was nothing to worry about? The cops or whatever probably won’t put up much of a fuss. It’s just a robbery, it ain’t like somebody died.”

Pony frowned. “It’s the DA’s office.”

“Huh?”

“The DA’s office is who’s trying the case, not the cops. If someone’s gonna fight to keep him in jail it’s them.”

Two-Bit gave him a startled look. “How do you even know that?”

Pony frowned and looked back at the courthouse. “Just like to be prepared for this sort of thing, I don’t know.” He muttered. It was this statement, for whatever reason, that reminded Soda he wasn’t the only one nervous. Soda glanced at his brother, who was chewing his nails down to the quick. He’d probably spent the whole afternoon in the library yesterday looking up Oklahoma laws and what happened in court. Soda figured by the time this trial was over the kid would know more about the justice system than half the lawyers in town.

Soda took a deep breath. He had to keep it together, if not for himself, then at least for Pony. It’s what Darry would do if he were here.

Steve’s voice cut in, breaking Soda from his thoughts. “We better get moving. I doubt the judge will care what shirt you’re wearing, but I’m willing to bet being late ain’t a good look.”

Soda checked his watch and sighed. Steve was right, and there was nothing left for him to procrastinate with. He looked at the big doors of the courthouse looming over them and willed himself to move forward.

Pony bumped against his shoulder breaking Soda from his trance. When he looked over, there was worry written across his features but a determination in his eye. He was trying to keep it together, too.

“You ready?”

Soda tried to shake the thoughts from his mind and give his brother a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure he was successful. “Yeah, come on. Let’s see if we can get Darry outta here.”

Soda didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he walked into the courthouse, but it certainly hadn’t been the unadulterated normalcy he was met with as soon as he stepped through the doors. People walking to offices, stopping to chat, lazy smiles and tired yawns. No one rushing, no one concerned, just moving around the space like this was just another day. And then it hit Soda; for them it was. They got to spend their day reading files and making phone calls while his family’s entire future would be determined within these walls. Soda was shocked by the anger welling up in him, the unfairness of it all. Why should they get to come in for another day at the office when this place could take everything away from him? He stood, trying and failing to push the feeling away.

Steve seemed to catch onto his struggle and walked over to the receptionist and spoke for a few minutes. When he came back to the group he gave them a tight smile and said, “Come on, we gotta head upstairs.”

By the time they arrived at room 302, Soda had managed to get his mind on the task at hand, but his heart was beating so loud he was surprised the others couldn’t hear it. He went to step through the door and found himself unable to. Too many fears were taking up space in his head. Would Darry already be there? Would he be able to take the sight of his brother in handcuffs? What if he was hurt or scared and there was nothing Soda could do to help him?

Pony grabbed his arm, and Soda looked over at him. There was something delicate in his expression, easily broken yet steady. When Pony smiled at Soda, he saw him fighting off the very same fears that threatened to consume him. But there was a steadiness to his voice that Soda couldn’t help but be proud of when he said, “Let’s go get our brother back, yeah?”

Soda let his brother's bravery wash over him and nodded. If nothing else, he had to be strong for Pony, like Darry always was for him. He couldn’t afford to stumble.

He took one final steadying breath and pushed the door open. The room was smaller than he imagined, nothing like those giant courtrooms he saw on TV. But what surprised him was the sheer amount of people mingling on the other side. Soda looked back at the number on the door just to make sure they had the right room.

He hadn’t know what to expect; Pony’s hearing had been buzzing with people too, but only because there were so many witnesses to Bob’s murder. It wasn’t like they had much of a say in being there. But there was nothing for these people to testify too, Darry didn’t even have a lawyer yet, so why had all they come?

“Are there always this many people for a bail hearing?” Pony asked.

Steve shook his head. “Why would there be? It’s not like that many people care.”

Except, apparently, for today. Soda looked around, Darry hadn’t come in yet, he realized, his brother missing from the crowd. And a few of the people sitting in the courtroom were total strangers. He wasn’t sure why they were there, like the little old ladies sitting in the far back row, hair perfectly permed and large handbags in their lap, who looked like this was simply their form of entertainment for the week. Or the man sitting in the farthest corner away from the door, baseball cap on his head and slumped low on the bench. Soda thought the hat was odd for court, but then if his own brother wasn’t being convicted he probably wouldn’t be dressed so nice himself.

But most concerning were the two men sitting just behind the prosecutor locked in a deep conversation with him. Soda vaguely recognized Mr. Smith, the owner of The Brewclub, greying at the temples and hair thinning on his head. He wore a scowl Soda had a feeling rarely left his face. 

But it was the other man that made Soda’s blood boil. Chief Holden, smile wide on his face as he laughed heartily at whatever the prosecutor said. Soda wished more than anything he could go over there and wipe the smug look off his face; if it weren’t for Darry, he probably would.

“I didn’t know they were coming.” Pony said.

“Me either. Should have figured though, he’s a vindictive asshole,” Soda said.

“What?” Pony followed Soda’s gaze, his eyes widening when he saw what had Soda’s attention, but he shook his head just as quickly and said, “No not Chief Holden. Mrs. Miller and Darry’s boss.”

Soda turned, and sure enough there they stood a few rows ahead of them chatting back and forth.

Curiosity got the best of him and he said, “You guys get us some seats, I’m gonna go say hi.”

“You want me to come with you?” Pony asked.

Soda shook his head, “Nah, need you and Steve to keep an eye on Two-Bit, I think getting up before noon is starting to get to his head.”

Two-Bit grumbled but Soda got away before he could put up much fuss. He didn’t have a lot of time before the hearing began so he quickly made his way his way towards them and said, “Mrs. Miller? Mr. Cooper? What are you doing here?”

Mr. Miller turned towards him and smiled, “Hello, Soda. Nice to see you as well.”

Soda blushed slightly and said, “Sorry, not trying to be rude. Just shocked is all. We weren’t expecting many people here.”

She nodded. “After our meeting yesterday, I spoke with a friend of mine here at the courthouse, she mentioned character recommendations would be permitted for this hearing. I called Mr. Cooper to see if he could come as well.”

Soda blinked, “Why?”

“It’s helpful if the judge hears from people outside of the family, gives the court a more well rounded image of the individual. And, frankly, a view that’s a bit more objective.”

“Plus, you can never be too careful with these sorts of things. Always good to have all your bases covered.” Mr. Cooper said.

“I thought you said there was nothing to worry about,” Soda said.

Mrs. Miller shot Mr. Cooper a look, but he ignored it. “Better to play all your cards now than start asking what ifs later.”

Before Soda could ask anything else Mrs. Miller cut in and said, “So, Soda, have you given any thought to our discussion yesterday?”

If Soda’s stomach wasn’t doing flips over this hearing, it would be over the change in topic. How could he not be thinking about it? Even with all this, the contents of the file were hanging around the back of his mind; he had Darry’s letter he’d written in his pocket even now.

But he didn’t want to say all this to her. Despite everything, he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust Mrs. Miller, even though it seemed Darry did. So instead he shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I mean, the whole thing’s a lot, you know? I’m thinking of maybe looking at some stuff for the GED and going from there.” He figured it couldn’t hurt to look, could it? Besides, the whole thing was one measly test. What did it matter if he failed? He’d failed about a hundred of them in school, it was nothing new. 

But it must have been the right thing to say because Mrs. Miller gave him her first genuine smile and said, "I’m glad to hear it. I can get you some books to study with down at the office, that would be the best place to start.”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “That’s real good, kid. I know a lot of the guys that work for me took their GED, I can ask them to give you some tips if you want.”

Soda was going to ask how long before he could get the test over with when he heard the door to the right open. His stomach rolled with a strange mix of relief and anguish. Finally, his brother was there. Soda drank him in, looking for cuts or bruises, or fear lining his features, or a hardness that hadn’t been there before. But Soda saw none of that. All he saw was his brother, wearing a black and white striped jumpsuit that was a bit too big, and silver handcuffs glinting around his wrist.

He kept waiting for Darry to look back towards the gallery, though Soda wasn’t sure what he’d do if he did. Offer him a reassuring smile, show him that they were there for support, simply look in his eyes and make sure he’s okay? None of it seemed to be enough for what Darry needed right now. But it turned out it didn’t matter because Darry kept his head down, his bangs falling forward and covering his eyes.

Soda took a step forward, though to do what he couldn’t say, but he felt Mr. Cooper’s hand on his shoulder before he got too far.

“Best go check on Pony and the others, make sure they’re alright. It’s about 9:30 anyway.”

Soda nodded, dazed, and headed back to his friends. When he finally managed to pull his gaze away from Darry, he realized Pony had lost what little stoicism he had before. There was a haunted look in his eye Soda was sure matched his own.

“Do you see him?”

“Yeah, Pony, I see him.”

“He’s not looking back. Why ain’t he looking back? He’s gotta know we’re here, right?”

Soda studied Darry’s shoulders, the tension they held and the strain in his neck. Eventually, Soda shook his head. “Might be easier this way. Not like he can talk to us regardless.”

Pony might have said more, but the judge chose that moment to walk in, a bailiff shouting “All rise!” Leading everyone in the room to scurry out of their seats. Once everyone settled again, the hearing finally began.

“I am Judge Nichols, and this is the bail hearing for The People of Oklahoma versus Darrel Curtis Junior. Also with us in the court is Mr. Tate with the district attorney’s office." For the first time the judge looked over at Darry and said, "We are here to discuss the charges brought against you, as well as your bail. Is that understood?”

Darry nodded, “Yes, your honor.”

The judge lit a cigarette and proceeded to list off Darry’s rights, but Soda’s attention was pulled over towards Mr. Tate. He leaned over the barrier dividing the spectators from the court and whispered something to Chief Holden, who gave a smile and nodded. Soda knew whatever was being said it couldn’t be good.

He felt an elbow jab at his ribs. “Ow!”

“Pay attention, he’s listing out Darry’s charges.”

Judge Nichols picked up a file and said, “Mr. Curtis, you have two charges brought against you. Theft, third degree and criminal damage to property, second degree.”

“Sounds worse when they say it in all that legal mumbo jumbo,” Two-Bit muttered, pulling at the collar of his shirt again.

Judge Nichols continued. “Now before we determine bail, Mr. Tate, if there’s anything you’d like to say.”

Mr. Tate glanced back at Chief Holden one final time and stood up. “Thank you, your honor. There are concerns the prosecution has about granting Mr. Curtis bail that we feel it appropriate to bring before the court.”

Soda’s heart stuttered in his chest. This is what he had been afraid of. He looked over at Darry for signs of any sort of nerves, but he remained unmoving.

Mr. Tate continued. “The first and most obvious would be his living situation. It has not changed since the time of the robbery, and if anything his current case could make that very situation more difficult. This puts other local establishments at risk for another break-in similar to the one Mr. Smith here suffered.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Pony muttered. “Even if Darry was guilty, why would he rob another place now? He knows they’re watching his every move.”

Soda watched Chief Holden lean back in his seat, nodding along to Mr. Tate’s words. “I don’t think they care much about making sense right now kid, they just want to keep him in jail as long as possible.”

Mr. Tate glanced down at the papers at his table then continued. “There is also the question of the stolen gun that still has not been found, and that we have every reason to believe is in Mr. Curtis’s possession.”

Fear washed over Soda as he realized what Mr. Tate had just said. The word gun rattled around in his brain as he tried to make sense of it, but it seemed impossible. Based on the murmur he heard in the crowd, the others felt the same. He heard one of the old ladies in the back whisper, “Told you this case was going to be a good one, Gloria,” and watched as the man with a baseball cap slumped lower in his seat.

“Gun? What gun, no one’s mentioned anything about a gun,” Pony whispered, panic leaking through his tone.

Soda shook his head, thinking back to that conversation he had with Darry after their night at the drive-in. Darry hadn’t made the charges seem like that big of a deal. Had he known then? Or was he just as blindsided as Soda?

“This is bad,” Steve muttered. Soda shot him a glare, but he realized his friend wasn’t being sharp, he was just as scared as him.

Mr. Tate cleared his throat and waited for the crowd to settle before saying, “Between the stolen firearm and Mr. Curtis’s financial situation, we do not believe it appropriate that he be released on bail. I motion that it not be granted at this time.”

Judge Nichols nodded and turned back to Darry.

“Now, Mr. Curtis, I see that you are not represented today.”

“No, your honor.”

“It is your right to speak now if you choose, but I must remind you that anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. Do you wish to speak?”

There was a slight pause, and for a moment, Soda thought his brother might stand up and do something. What, exactly, Soda didn’t know, but something. But eventually, he shook his head and said, “No, your honor.”

Judge Nichols nodded and looked back at the file in his hand. “Very good. I have been made aware that there are character witnesses wishing to speak on Mr. Curtis’s behalf. If they’d like to speak they may do so now.”

This was the first thing to cause Darry’s posture to change. He sat up straighter, and with a hesitancy that was strange to see coming from him, he turned to look back at the gallery. Soda watched his eyes widen as he scanned the ragtag group sitting behind him, scanning first Mrs. Miller, then Mr. Cooper, then their friends, before finally landing on Pony and Soda.

Soda had been building this very moment up in his mind since he watched Darry be arrested, wondering what he would do when he finally got to see his brother and his brother see him. He’d been terrified of screwing it up, or saying the wrong thing, or not being there for his brother in all the ways he needed. But now that the moment was here, it felt so simple, because things had never been difficult between the two of them. So, instead of worrying, he did what he’d always done when they were backed up against a wall; gave him a lazy smile and an easy nod. A reminder that while everything around them may change the things that mattered stayed the same. Darry’s expression did something funny, and he gave his brother the briefest of smiles in return before he turned back around.

Mrs. Miller was halfway through her speech before Soda started paying attention. “… In the entire time I’ve known Mr. Curtis, he has never once faltered in his dedication to his brothers. He has proven himself time and time again that he is professional, dependable, and law-abiding. There is no reason to suspect the town is in any sort of danger upon Mr. Curtis’s release. And if there were, frankly, he wouldn’t want the blowback of that sort of action to affect his brothers. To question his moral integrity is to question everything myself and the state have determined over the past year about his character. And if there is ever any doubts in this courtroom, one is always welcome to come down to my office and have a look through Mr. Curtis’s file. I can assure you, with as many social visits as he’s received over the past year, it is not light reading.”

The last comment seemed pointed, and when Soda pulled his gaze away from Darry, he realized that somewhere along the way, Mrs. Miller had taken to staring down Chief Holden. It was the first time throughout the hearing he didn’t look so smug.

After a moment, she nodded, and in a much gentler tone, she looked back at Judge Nichols and said, “I thank you for the court’s time.”

Mr. Cooper stood as soon as she sat. “Your honor. My name is Jeffery Cooper. I am Mr. Curtis’s employer down at Cooper’s Construction. I believe there would be no issues barring his release. He is a good employee, shows up on time, works hard, and has no mark on his character as far as I’m concerned.”

Mr. Cooper shifted his weight and looked over to Mr. Smith and the others before continuing. “More to the point, I myself know Mr. Smith, we grew up together, and Mr. Curtis’s father knew him as well. What happened at his restaurant is a tragedy, I think everyone here can agree to that.”

“Yeah, I’m real torn up about it,” Steve muttered, Soda shushed him.

“But I also know that a man is innocent until proven guilty. What Mr. Tate and the others here are trying to do is assume Mr. Curtis’s guilt before the trial’s even begun. And I don’t think that’s right, and I don’t think those men do either if they thought long and hard about it. There’s no reason to deny Mr. Curtis bail unless the court has also decided his guilt without evidence. And if that’s the case, well then I think this is a far bigger issue than simply an East Side kid stealing from a West Side establishment.”

Chief Holden’s expression soured as he watched Mr. Cooper sit down, as if he could will the other man to drop dead right here in this very courtroom. So engrossed was Soda in their interaction that it took an elbow in the ribs from Pony for him to realize it was his turn.

“You got it,” he whispered.

But Soda was certain his mouth was filled with sand as he took a deep breath and stood up. With shaking hands, unfolded the paper he’d been gripping like a lifeline. He could feel Darry’s own letter in his back pocket, and let the weight of it steady him.

He cleared his throat, looked down at the words Pony had written only hours before, and said,  “Darry— uh, Mr. Curtis, as everyone has been calling him, is our older brother. But for us, he’s more than that. He’s the one that keeps a roof over our heads and food on the table. He’s who we go to for advice when we’re having trouble with school or work or girls. He’s the one who worries a whole lot so me and Pony here never have to. He’s been our brother our whole lives, and that was always a given. But there was no guarantee that he’d step up and be our guardian. He threw away every chance to be what he wanted just so our family could stay together instead of being split up in the system. He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway."

He glanced up and realized that somewhere along the way Darry had turned around to face him, something tender in his expression as he listened to his brothers' words. Soda turned his gaze back towards the letter, otherwise, he might lose his composure.  

“Me and Pony here are used to losing people by now. We lost our parents, we’ve lost friends. And if it comes down to it, we’ll have to lose Darry too, and we understand that. But if the worst happens, then by granting Darry bail, you’ll give us one thing we’ve never had before, the chance to say goodbye. I didn’t get to do that before, neither of us did. Our parents died on the way home from the grocery store, and you know what my last words were to them? ‘Pick up some donuts if they have any.’ Wasted words that don't mean anything."

He looked up at Darry and held his gaze as he said, "But you know what? My last words to Darry are worse. Because I was angry and scared and said things I didn't mean. And I don’t want the last thing I say to my brother as a free man to be said in anger. He deserves better than that."

Darry took in a sharp breath, eyes bright with tears he couldn't let escape in that room. He wanted to say something, Soda could tell, but maybe it was best that he had no choice but to listen. Maybe that alone could be the day's one silver lining.

“So I’m asking the court, please, let my brother be released on bail. We need Darry back home, for however long we got left with him. He won’t do nothing to be a danger to society or anything like that. He won’t have time even if he wants to. Because with what days we know we have left, me and Pony here are going to keep him too busy doing all the things we always said we’d do but somehow never found the time. Might even barge in on him at work, if Mr. Cooper looks the other way, that is.”

That earned a chuckle out of a couple of people in the gallery, even the corner of Darry’s mouth pulled up ever so slightly. 

Soda smiled at Darry as he said, “So we ask that this letter be met with an open mind, and thank you for your time.”

Darry gave Soda one final nod before he turned back around, and Soda thought that maybe they could be okay. But he couldn't dwell on it long before Pony was pulling him into a hug, Steve patting him on the back, and Two-Bit saying, “You did real good kid.”

“It was Pony’s doing really, I just read it out.”

Pony smiled. “Yeah, but you didn’t stumble or nothing, and I think he even liked your shirt color. Darry’s gonna be fine, Soda. We did it.”

But Soda couldn't get his hopes up quite yet. "I guess we'll find out soon," he said, watching the judge.

But apparently, Judge Nichols was in no rush. He sighed and lit another cigarette. He took his time with it, slowly tapping it against the edge of the already full ashtray. Soda wished he’d hurry up, or at least offer him one too while he waited, the nerves were starting to eat at him.

Eventually, the judge sighed and said. “Honestly, Mr. Tate, I don’t think you have much of a leg to stand on here. There’s no reason to believe Mr. Curtis is a flight risk, we can’t assume his guilt, and more to the point, this is a case of robbery, not murder. It’d be foolish of me to not offer him bail, and I don’t like being made a fool of, Mr. Tate.”

Mr. Tate sat up straighter in his seat, losing the relaxed air he’d had before the hearing began. “Of course, your honor, that was never my intention.”

Judge Nichols simply hummed in response, and finally, he took a slow drag of his cigarette and turned towards Darry.

“Alright then, I’ll place that bail at $1500, and once paid, you’ll be released until your trial, a date the court will communicate to you at a later time. Is this understood?”

“Yes your honor,” Darry said, but Soda didn’t know how he had the words to speak.

Fifteen hundred dollars? Soda thought, mind trying and failing to wrap around that number. The judge might as well have not granted them bail, that would have been better than the carrot on a stick he was dangling in front of them that they had no hope of reaching.

“Soda, what are we going to do?” Pony said, voice hoarse.

Soda shook his head. “I don’t know kid. We’ll figure something out.”

The hearing was adjourned, and Soda and the boys stayed seated, watching as Darry was led out of the room by the officers. And even as others began getting up and filing out of the room, Soda found he couldn’t move. Because Pony was right, what were they going to do? They’d be at trial by the time Soda could earn that kind of money. Could they sell the truck? Their TV? Borrow against the house? People did that sort of thing, didn’t they? He thought he heard his mom mention it once.

It was as he sat there, watching as the people filed out, catching bits and pieces of his friends’ conversation, that the man in the baseball cap stood up, and Soda just managed to catch a glimpse of his face. His heart stuttered. He knew that face, it’d been tormenting his family all summer.

Paul.

Soda watched him leave and stayed seated in his chair, willing himself to calm down. What right did he have to be there, to celebrate in Darry’s misery? Hadn’t he already done enough to his brother? To their family?

The longer Soda sat there, the more rage consumed him, and before he knew it, he was standing up and following the older boy out the door.

“Woah, Soda. Where’s the fire?” Steve asked, standing up and following behind.

“Yeah, you gonna be sick or something? Because if so, watch out for my shoes. Mom would kill me if I ruined my funeral loafers.”

But Soda didn’t have words for them, he was on a warpath. 

By the time he caught up to Paul he had made it outside and was heading around the backside of the courthouse. He heard Steve mutter, “This ain’t good” before Soda broke into a sprint to catch up with him. He knew his friends were only a step behind.

Soda shoved the older boy hard from behind, sending him flying into the brick wall. He turned him around and put all his weight against his chest and said, “What, going after my brother ain’t enough, now you gotta come here and rub it in?”

“Soda, cool it man, you can’t be getting all hot under the collar now,” Two-Bit said and tried to pull him back but Soda shrugged him off.

But Paul managed to shove Soda away, brushing the dirt off his shirt. “Me? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t come after me the other night. Now my dad’s on a war path.”

Pony scoffed. Soda forgot how tuff the kid could sound sometimes. “You got short-term memory or something? You’ve been going after Darry for months. The whole reason we’re here is because you invited him out just to jump him.”

Paul shook his head. “I had a plan, I could have talked my dad out of it, or convinced him it was someone else or something. The only reason he’s so hell-bent on Darry now is because of the other night.”

Two-Bit gave Paul a strange look, “A plan? What the hell does that mean?”

But Soda had a more pressing issue to deal with. “If this little plan of yours already fell apart then why don’t you go tell that daddy of yours what really happened? Tell him that you beat the hell out of my brother then set him up to be framed so you and your little Soc friends could stir up some trouble.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, pulling himself up to his full height. “You better watch it, Curtis. You have no idea what happened that night.”

Soda took a step into the older boy’s space and said, “Well I know Darry didn’t do nothing, and those friends of yours seemed pretty confused when we talked the other night. So what did happen, Paul? Why don’t you enlighten me?”

He shoved Soda so hard that he didn’t even have time to try and catch himself, his head slammed against the sidewalk and left stars floating around his eyes. Soda blinked, and he was back in that parking lot, gravel biting into his skin and the older boy on top of him, knife to his throat, seconds away from ending it all. By the time his vision blinked back to normal Pony and their friend were standing in front of Soda, stopping Paul from getting any closer.

“Soda may not be able to fight you, Holden, but nothing’s stopping us,” Steve said.

Two-Bit nodded. “Yeah man, better pull back before you bite off more than you can chew.”

But Paul only had eyes for Soda. “You don’t know half the shit I’m dealing with, Curtis. All of this would have worked out fine if you hadn’t come in and ruined it all, but now everything’s a mess and it’s your fault.”

There was something desperate in the older boy’s tone that made Soda uncomfortable. And when Soda asked, “What does that even mean?” it didn’t have quite the heat it had before.

But Paul just shook his head and took a step back. There was a flicker of something in his expression Soda couldn’t quite name. “Forget it, not like you could understand anyways.”

He took off for the parking lot, and the four friends stood there, wondering how things spiraled so out of control.

Chapter Text

In high school, Soda hated that Darry got first dibs on the truck.

It started more fights between the two of them than Soda could count. Because Soda couldn’t stand that Darry got to drive wherever he wanted while he was stuck trying to hitch a ride off of a friend with a car (which was a short list for a sixteen year old on the East Side). Besides, when Darry was sixteen he never had to fight to take the Chevy out, he was the only one with a license in the house who wanted to go anywhere on a Friday night. It wasn’t fair, and Soda made sure everyone knew it.

That meant they did the same song and dance every week: Soda begged Darry to let him use the truck (Darry would laugh in his face), offered him a bribe (Darry reminded him had plenty of money, he had an actual job), offered to do his homework (which Soda wouldn’t be any good at considering Darry was taking college algebra), and one week, when he was truly desperate, promised he wouldn’t use the record player for a whole month (that was the only time Darry looked like he was considering it), but never once did his brother relent. He was too stubborn, and he wanted Soda to know it was his right as the older brother to drive around town whenever he wanted. Sometimes Soda didn’t even think Darry wanted to go out, just wanted to lord it over Soda’s head that he could. Soda would lay in his bed seething as he listened to Darry pull out of the driveway, and swear that one day he’d get back at Darry because while it wasn’t much, that was his right as the younger brother.

But then only a few months into his sixteenth year their parents died in a car crash, and driving lost some of its luster. He found himself no longer fighting for the keys with Darry because if he was honest with himself, he no longer loved driving. Where once it relaxed him and gave him the space to do some of his best thinking, it now left him feeling antsy. Heart racing and palms sweating, things that he hardly gave a second thought to before he was now triple checking with an almost obsessive quality, like crossing into oncoming traffic, or turning right on red, or even just switching lanes. He could drive and often did in a pinch, but he no longer wanted to. The joy it once brought him died along with his parents.

And even more than that, Soda realized that somewhere along the way their dad’s truck had become Darry’s in his mind, and it no longer felt like his right to drive on a Friday night, but instead like he was taking something from his brother who had lost enough already.

So now, with Darry gone and Soda behind the wheel, sitting in the Chevy felt wrong. The cracked leather rough against his skin, the steering wheel sticky beneath his hands. He shouldn’t be sitting in that seat, he thought. It belonged to Darry now, their father before. Better men than him had sat there, and he wished desperately to take back his rightful spot in the passenger seat.

But wishing didn’t get him anything, so he turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine roar to life. He took a deep breath, searching for the scent of his father’s cologne, but found he could no longer smell it hanging in the air. He put the truck into first gear and took off down the road.

The drive to the jail was short, but it seemed to stretch on for miles. It was a route he didn’t know well and prayed he’d never have to. All the while, so many thoughts rattled around in his brain he wasn’t sure he could contain them all. What state would Darry be in when he got there, he wondered. And even worse, the thing that frightened him the most, what would he do when he found out Soda couldn’t afford to get him out?

Because try as he might, Soda couldn’t figure out how they’d scrape it together fast enough. He’d been racking his brain all night trying desperately to come up with an answer. The easiest thing for them to do would be to sell the truck, but that would take time they didn’t have, not with Mrs. Miller’s three day limit. Pony offered to get a job, but he wouldn’t make any more money than Soda did, and it still wouldn’t be quick enough.

Soda knew the quickest solution would be to ask if he could borrow the money from Mr. Cooper. Soda was pretty sure he’d help them out, or at the very least, give him an idea about how to get the money. But the real kicker would be Darry. He loved his brother, but he could be proud to a fault, one of the many traits he’d inherited from their dad. Which was all fine and good, but there was too much on the line for pride now. And it wasn’t just a matter of Darry staying in jail; Soda wasn’t exactly itching to get sent to a boys home, even if it was only for a couple of months.

His thoughts were halted when he arrived at the jail, a huge eyesore of a building where hope came to die. It was the same shade of dreary gray as the overcast sky and stood so tall above the rest of the buildings downtown that Soda could see it from miles away. He sat in the Chevy for a minute, staring up at the building, and wondered how this had become his life.

He was checked in and frisked down by a cop who was startlingly rough as he ran his hands over Soda. He poked and prodded him, looking for something to make Soda lash out, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t let his temper get the best of him today, not if that meant he got kicked out of the jail and Darry was stuck here alone for another second.

So instead he imagined Darry’s morning; he could picture it clear in his mind. He lay on the bed in his cell, staring up at the great void of gray above his head. He had been there for three days, but time stretched in his mind and it felt like weeks. His clothes were stiff and scratched against his skin, and his shoes on the floor had no laces. He was alone in this cell, but it wouldn’t last. He’d be moved in with the other men, the ones that terrified him, the ones that looked at him with a hunger in their eyes whenever Darry was forced to be around them.

Darry could no longer lie down in bed with his thoughts, so he got up and paced the length of his cell. It was seven steps long and eight steps wide, he’d discovered that his first day there, when pacing the room kept the fear at bay. Eventually, he walked over to stare out the window, he tried to do that often because he knew when he was moved in with the rest of the men there would no longer be a window for him to look out of. It was his only reprieve from the dreary gray walls, except for today when the sky outside was leached of color.

Soda came back to himself as the officer finished up, and led him to the visitation room. It had the sickly sweet smell of too much cleaner, like artificial lemons hung in the air. The glass window they sat him in front of was smudged with fingerprints, and when he picked up the phone it felt greasy in his hand.

But none of that mattered when the prisoners were brought in and he got his first glimpse of his brother.

He watched as Darry scanned the windows in front of him, saw the minute his eyes landed on Soda; his tense posture relaxed and relief flooded his eyes. When he smiled it seemed genuine, if a little strained. But Soda couldn’t help but see the cracks in his armor. The exhaustion lining his face, his pallor sickly pale, the guarded way he held himself as he made his way to the seat across from Soda, picking up the phone.

“Pepsi! I didn’t know you were coming.”

That surprised Soda. “They didn’t tell you?”

Darry shrugged, looking away. “I’m still learning the ropes of how this place works to be honest, everything sort of blurs together.”

His eyes had an unfocused gaze Soda didn’t like, so he smiled and decided to try and do what he did best, keep it light. “Yeah, well. It’s been too long since you saw my Hollywood smile, wouldn’t want you to forget it.”

Darry smiled back, but it seemed forced, it didn’t quite meet his eyes. It was strange watching him through the glass, so close yet so far. Soda realized he didn’t know how to talk to him.

He cleared his throat and said, “How’ve you been?”

“Dandy,” Darry said, but didn’t seem to be listening. He kept glancing over his shoulder, studying the other prisoners, then looking back at the guards lining the room. Soda felt annoyance well up in him, unbidden, because he realized Darry wouldn’t be any help in figuring out bail. Then guilt washed over him just as quickly. Why should he ask his brother for another thing when he was already plagued with so much? But Soda didn’t know what to do, the only person who could help him was Darry, even like this.

He was still trying to figure out how to bring up the topic when Darry shook his head, gave a strange laugh, and said, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been glad that Mom and Dad are dead.”

The words were so bizarre and blunt coming from Darry, who usually spoke about their parents with a reverence that made Soda’s heart ache, that he nearly choked in shock. “What the hell, man, why would you even say that?”

Darry shrugged, glancing back at Soda, there was a glassiness in his gaze Soda didn’t like. “I don’t mean like that, I’m just glad they can’t see this. You know that look Mom got when she was real disappointed in you?”

Soda nodded, “Yeah, she could make you feel about as tall as an ant when she got like that.”

Darry had the ghost of a smile and said, “I don’t think I could stand it if she was here looking at me like that, you know? Your sorry face is bad enough.”

Soda doubted their parents would be disappointed, if anything, they’d have this whole thing figured out and Darry out of jail by now, if he’d ever gone in to begin with, but Soda didn’t say that, instead, he said, “Don’t talk like that, Dar. We’ll get you out. You ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Darry sighed and looked away again. Somehow, Soda felt like he was saying all the wrong things.

“Dar, I need to talk to you about something.”

Darry didn’t even look at him, eyes focused on something Soda couldn’t see. “Did you know I wanted to be a lawyer?”

The non sequitur threw Soda for a loop. He’d never had such trouble following Darry’s train of thought before, but now it seemed nearly impossible. “What, really? You never told me that.”

Darry nodded. “Remember when I broke my arm that summer when we were climbing trees down at the park?”

Soda nodded. He remembered it well. Soda was six and Darry ten. Darry begged him afterward not to tell their parents, he said he didn’t want them wasting money on a hospital trip. It was the first time Soda realized he was supposed to be worried about money.

Soda gave Darry a smile. “Of course, thought they were gonna have to cut your arm off the way you were going on about it. Dad nearly flipped when he found out.”

Darry nodded. “He gave me his copy of To Kill a Mockingbird to read so I wouldn’t be bored. I loved Jem and Scout, but I remember thinking Atticus Finch was the coolest. Wanted to be a lawyer just like him, fight injustice for people who really matter, you know? Make an actual difference in people’s lives.” He laughed, the sound scratching out of his throat. “It’s stupid, I know, but even when I got into Oklahoma I wanted to do pre-law. I never would have imagined then…”

He didn’t finish his thought, and Soda wished desperately there was some comfort he could offer his brother but there was none. Instead, he took a breath and said, “Darry, we’re trying to figure out your bail. But I gotta be honest man, we don’t got much.”

Darry laughed again but it sounded bitter. “We never got much.”

Soda sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Two-Bit and Steve offered to help whatever way they can, but you and I both know it won’t be enough. I could sell the truck, but that’ll take time.”

Soda paused, waiting for his brother to respond, but he never did. He swallowed, trying to decide how to best go forward. Usually with Darry that was easy for Soda. But here, with a glass pane between them and their voices garbled through the phone line, he couldn’t get a read on his brother. There was a tension in his body Soda only saw when they were gearing up for a rumble, nerves rolling off of him in waves. Soda knew it wouldn’t take much for his brother to snap, but he didn’t know what else to do. If he didn’t talk this through with Darry now he might not get another chance; Soda and Pony would get thrown into a boys home, Darry would get trapped in this place until the trial, and who knew what would come after that.

Soda tried to build up some scrap of courage, but it was hard to come by in this place. “I think Mr. Cooper would help too, if you don’t mind me asking. That’d be the quickest.”

This, at least, brought Darry’s gaze back to Soda. There was an emptiness in his expression that made Soda nervous, like he wasn’t really all there, and there was a dream-like quality to his voice when he said, “Don’t bother him with this.”

Frustration was beginning to break through his wall of fear, an emotion he hadn’t expected to have to fight off today. “Darry, I don’t think you’re listening to me. I don’t know what else we’re gonna do. If we don’t get money from somewhere, me and Pony will end up in a boys home and we won’t be able to get you out, we gotta do something.”

Darry’s reaction was still too calm like he wasn’t even listening, and he lacked the urgency that had been pushing Soda forward since his brother got arrested. He wanted to shake his brother’s shoulders, get him to wake up, but he was too far away. Maybe this was all Darry had the energy left to do. But then, Darry said something that nearly had Soda falling out of his chair. “No, I mean I’ve got some money saved, not sure if it’s all of it or not, but it ought to help. It’s in the drawer in Mom’s nightstand.”

That was the absolute last thing Soda expected to hear his brother say. He stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was joking, but Darry seemed so out of it he didn’t think he was capable of making a joke right now. “You’ve got money saved up? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Darry pulled his gaze away again, leaning heavily on the phone against his ear. “I was waiting to use it.”

Soda scoffed and said, “Waiting for what? The Cold War to heat up?”

Darry shook his head, he was watching a cop a few yards away yell at an inmate. When he finally spoke, it still didn’t clear things up. “It’s from Mom and Dad.”

Soda sighed and leaned forward, tapping gently on the glass. Darry finally looked at him again. “Dar, buddy, you’re going to have to explain this whole thing a little better.”

Darry shook his head and nodded. When he looked back at Soda, his eyes seemed a bit more clear. He really was trying, Soda realized, but there were too many things on the other side of the glass threatening him that pulled his attention away.

“Right, sorry. They had some money they’d saved up for when i went to college. I didn’t know, it was my birthday gift last year, I found it not long after they died. By that time I was already making enough to pay all the bills, and there was no point in saving it for school since I wasn’t going. But I knew Pony was, and you hadn’t dropped out yet. So, I held onto it, been adding a bit to it when I could, that way the two of you could split it when you started school, or wanted to move out, or whatever.”

Soda could feel the frustration growing again. “Do you know how many times we could have used that?” He asked, voice sharper than he would have liked.

Darry’s brow furrowed. “That ain’t what that money was for. It was Mom and Dad’s last gift to the three of us, and I wasn’t about to use it on a house payment when I could good and well earn that on my own.”

“But there’s been emergencies. Like when Pony was in the hospital after Dally and Johnny died. Or hell, when you got jumped.”

He said the last part louder than he meant to, and Darry flinched, looking around to see if anyone heard. But no one else was paying them a lick of attention, they were all too engrossed in their own conversations. When Darry turned back, Soda saw the first hint of annoyance on his brother’s face. Oddly enough, the sight soothed him, reassured him that his brother still had some fight left in him.

“Look, I could figure all that stuff out. And I did, didn’t I? I just wanted their last gift to be used for what it was meant for. They would have done the same thing for the two of you when you graduated, it just looks a little different this way.”

Soda deflated ever so slightly and said, “I guess I should be thankful, anyway, if you hadn’t done that we wouldn’t be able to get you out.”

It was like that sentence made Darry wake up and realize what he’d just offered. Suddenly he looked at Soda with panic in his eyes and said, “I don’t know what I’m saying, I shouldn’t even be using it now, it’s for you guys, not me.”

Soda blinked. “It’s your birthday gift, right? If anything you have more of a right to it than me and Pony.”

Darry sighed and ran his free hand across his forehead. “My head’s all off in here. I can’t think straight. I feel like I can’t keep two thoughts together.”

Soda knew this Darry, the one that worried about not doing enough for his brothers, that was something he could work with. “Dar, hey, relax man. We gotta get you out of here. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for me and Pony. Mrs. Miller’s gonna put us in a home if we don’t get you out in the next couple of days. And that ain’t fun for anybody.”

Darry gave him a startled look, and Soda knew then that he’d been right before, Darry hadn’t been paying attention. “But you’re supposed to get custody, I thought she agreed to that?” His eyes widened as another thought occurred to him. “Or do you not want—”

Soda wouldn’t even let him finish the thought. “No, nothing like that. I just ain’t eighteen yet, dummy. We still need you hanging around a few more months.”

Darry blinked, then deflated. “Oh, right.”

He was quiet for a long time, and Soda didn’t know what to say. He’d never felt so unsure around his brother before.

When Darry finally spoke, his voice was quiet, Soda had to press the phone into his ear to hear him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if they find me guilty, Soda. I know it ain’t forever, but I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself in here, I gotta get out.”

Soda’s heart pounded in his chest, and he tried to keep a steady voice as he said, “Darry, we’ll figure it out, alright? Don’t talk like that.”

Darry shook his head. “I’m scared, Soda. It was tough when Mom and Dad died, but there were things I could do, steps I could take, stuff I could fix for us. But this? I can’t do nothing but wait for them to lock me away and I don’t—.” 

Darry took a deep breath, and when he pulled his gaze up to meet Soda’s he could see how frightened his brother was. He wanted to reach out and steady him, but the glass between them made his brother feel miles away. “I know what I said before about Mom and Dad, but honestly? I wish I could talk to them. Even if they screamed and yelled and told me how much of a disappointment I was, I wouldn’t care. I miss them, Soda. I don’t know what to do.”

Soda’s heart stuttered in his chest. It was so uncharacteristic of Darry, so unlike his unbreakable older brother. Soda wasn’t used to being the rock for him, it was always the other way around. Soda steadied himself and tried to be what Darry had always been for him.

But Soda never got the chance. Just as he tried to find the words, the guard’s voice rang out, “Time’s up!” And Darry was pulled away with the others, Soda watched as his brother tried to school his frightened expression into something more neutral. 

But Soda could see straight through it, in the terror etched across his face, in the way his hands shook as he clenched them at his side, the tension that coursed through his body like a rubber band about to snap.

He sat there long after Darry was gone, phone still glued to his ear, unmoving until another officer finally came and pulled him out of his seat. Soda walked down the corridor and out to the dreary Tulsa street and wondered how they could possibly piece themselves back together.

Soda found the money exactly where Darry told him it would be, still tucked in the birthday card his parents had left him with a note written in their mom’s sprawling cursive Soda couldn’t bear to read. He grabbed the money, counted it up, and added what he and the other Greasers had pooled together. It was just barely enough.

He rushed to the courthouse to pay the bail that same day. The woman sitting behind the desk looked disinterested, like she didn’t care that this money would save his brother’s sanity, and told him in a monotonous voice that Darry would be processed out in two days, and to be at the jail at 9 o’clock in the morning on the dot.

“But that’s too long, can’t he come out today?” Soda said, thinking of the state his brother had been in that very morning, wondering what two more days would do to him. 

“If you’d wanted him out today you should have given the judge the money at his hearing. If you wanted him out tomorrow you should have come in earlier. It’s too close to five, this won’t make it out of the courthouse until tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Next!”

Soda went home and spent the next twenty four hours trying not to panic. He made dinner that night and sat on the couch with Pony while they both pretended to watch whatever was on television. He went to work the next morning and pretended not to notice the worried looks Steve kept throwing his way. He lay in bed both nights and pretended to sleep, even though his mind was running wild with fear for his brother.

When the morning came, Soda was up long before the sun and was shocked when he walked into the living room to find two forms sleeping on the couch and the recliner.

He flipped the overhead light on, causing them both to groan. Steve scrunched his face up, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. Two-Bit threw a pillow at him but missed by a mile.

Soda laughed for the first time in over a week. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do than hang around here?”

Steve yawned and shot Soda a dirty look, Soda’s grin just widened. “You and the pipsqueak can’t be trusted. If we leave it up to you, something will get screwed up and Darry’ll be stuck in prison until his trial.”

“Yeah, because Two-Bit’s gonna be a big help,” Soda said.

Two-Bit stretched and said, “I’ve got more charm in my pinky than the three of you combined. If nothing else, I can convince the guard to let our boy out. Give ‘em a little sweet talk. I’m sure the police love that.”

Soda laughed and headed towards the kitchen, Steve shouting, “While you’re in there, the least you can do is fix us something decent to eat!” He was reminded for the dozenth time in the past week how much he loved his friends. 

They got through the morning and piled into the Chevy, Soda driving and Pony riding shotgun, the other two in the bed of the truck. Pony was biting his nails, a nervous tick Darry kept trying to get him to break.

“You alright, Pone?”

Pony sighed, “Sounds dumb, but I wish Dally were here, he’d know what to do.”

Only because he had a rap sheet a mile long, Soda thought, but he knew Pony wasn’t wrong. These were the kind of situations Dally always thrived in, managed to keep his cool when he was backed against a wall. That was why Pony and Johnny went to him when Bob ended up dead, even though Darry thought it was because they trusted the other boy more.

“Yeah, Dally probably could have given Darry some advice, who knows if it would have been any good though. Or if Dar would have listened, you know how those two could get.”

Soda tried to keep the conversation light, but the attempt fell flat. Pony sighed and said, “I don’t know what to say to him after the other night, you know? What if he hates me now?”

The fight between the three of them felt like a lifetime ago, and Soda tried to remember why any of that stuff had ever seemed important. “Just tell him the truth, kid. Darry will understand. Hell, he’s lost his temper more times than you and me combined, it’s not like he has the moral high ground here.”

They pulled into the parking lot and  Soda turned off the engine, but before he could get out, Pony grabbed his arm.

“Be honest, Soda. Is this how Darry felt when he hit me that night?”

Soda sighed. He wouldn’t have picked this moment to talk about it, but he knew Pony better than anyone, and he needed to understand so he could figure out the best way to move forward with Darry.

It’s the same thing Darry would have done.

So he leveled Pony with a look and said, “Honestly, probably worse. At least we know where Darry is. Bob was dead and you were missing, and Darry felt like it was his fault.”

Pony’s eyes widened, a sadness washing over him that was palpable. But then his expression shifted into something more determined and he said, “It wasn’t though, you think he knows that now?”

Soda couldn’t help but remember back to that night in the dark where Pony admitted how much he’d blamed his brother for, and allowed himself a moment to marvel at how far his two brothers had come. “Probably not, but we’ll make sure he knows one way or another, yeah?”

Pony broke out into a grin, but before he could say anything else Two-Bit was banging on the truck window.

“If you two are finished having your sappy movie moment, your brother’s coming out.”

The two remaining Curtis brothers scrambled out of the car and stood watching as the back door to the jail opened up, a lone figure shuffling through. He blinked, blinded by the sun, and looked around. Soda couldn’t stop the grin breaking out on his face. Because standing there, free as a bird, was Darry.

Like a bolt of lightning, Pony was gone, sprinting up the steps and wrapping his brother in a hug. Darry startled at the touch, but Pony didn’t let him pull away.

Darry stood frozen, too stunned to move, as if trying to process what was happening. Then he wrapped his arms around his brother. And with a voice laced with more emotion than Soda had heard during his entire visiting hour, said, “Woah kiddo, what’s all this about? I ain’t been gone that long.”

Pony pulled back, eyes suspiciously wet. “Yeah, but you left me alone with Soda. You know what kind of food he cooks when you’re gone? We’re talking purple eggs and spaghetti sandwiches.”

Soda and the others finally caught up with them and Soda smiled wide. “Whatever, little man. Don’t act like a spaghetti sandwich wasn’t the best invention I’ve ever had. I mean all the goodness of bread and spaghetti in one? A stroke of genius on my part. ”

Darry turned towards the other two Greasers and gave them a smile. “Do you guys ever work?” He asked.

Steve smiled. “Some of us do, I’m not sure how Two-Bit here manages to make it by.”

“My good looks do most of the work, my charming personality does the rest,” Two-Bit said. He patted Darry on the back. “It’s good to see you, man. I was having too much responsibility being the oldest. It was starting to wear me down.”

“You’re a true man of the people, Two-Bit. I don’t know how we’d survive without you.”

Two-Bit smiled and gave Darry a wink. “Speaking of food, let’s stop at The Silver Skillet on our way home. I’m starving, and I don’t think I can stomach another one of Soda’s purple egg breakfasts.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t even look at what he made this morning without getting nauseous,” Steve added.

“You guys are all just trying to stifle my creative genius,” Soda said throwing an arm over Darry’s shoulders and guiding him back to the car.

His brother was still tense, he could feel it in the pull of his shoulders, and Soda knew it wouldn’t take much for him to snap. But maybe going to the diner would help, it’d been their favorite place to go with their parents for breakfast on the weekends, and they made waffles just the way Darry liked them.

They arrived back at the truck, and Soda threw Darry the keys. His brother looked down at them in his hand and Soda couldn’t help but smile. “She missed you, you know. Never runs as smooth when I’m driving her.”

Darry rolled his eyes. “It’s a truck, Soda, not a she. And I’m sure it ran just fine for you.”

But when they all slotted back into their same old places, Soda saw Darry relax, just a fraction, as the truck rumbled to life. Soda sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat and reveled in the moment of normalcy.

They arrived at The Silver Skillet rowdy as ever. They hadn’t all gone out to eat breakfast together in months, maybe even since their parents died, and Soda couldn’t remember the last time they’d all been in such a good mood, even if they knew it couldn’t last. Today at least, they could pretend that they were just five normal kids, tomorrow they could worry about how to keep Darry out of prison.

They walked up to the waitress station and Two-Bit gave the girl standing behind it a wide grin. She looked familiar. Soda was certain they’d gone to school together, but he couldn’t think of her name to save his life. “Hey there, little lady. We’d like a table for five. Better keep it away from the rest, us boys are celebrating.”

Darry rolled his eyes. “Ain’t nothing to celebrate, dummy. You’re gonna jinx me.”

“What? We’re just celebrating you getting some decent food for the first time in days, ain’t that enough?”

The girl looked between them, but when her eyes settled on Darry, they widened. “Can you wait one moment please?” She said, voice meek, before scurrying off.

As the other boys were talking, Darry leaned over to Soda and asked, “How’d Pony take the custody change?”

Soda sighed. Straight to business as usual with Darry, not even a second to relax. “Honestly? I haven’t mentioned it. I’m not quite sure how to bring it up.”

Darry frowned. “Best to rip the band-aid off now. Waiting’s just gonna make it look like we’re hiding something.”

Soda rolled his eyes. “Sorry, getting you out of jail’s kept me a little preoccupied the past few days. Not a lot of time in between to freak Pony out about you giving up custody on top of everything else,” He snapped.

Darry’s expression shifted into one of guilt and Soda wished he could take the words back. “Right sorry, wasn’t thinking,” his brother said with a laugh that neither one of them believed. Their dynamic was morphing in a way Soda wished he could stop, but he didn’t know how. 

But he couldn’t dwell on it, because the owner, Mr. Richards, came out from the kitchen, waitress just a few steps behind, and gave them a look. “Sorry, fellas, don’t have any tables. You’ll have to go somewhere else.”

Soda blinked and looked behind him, he could see the opened tables from here. “What about the seat right behind you?”

He shrugged. “Not available.”

“Why not?”

“It just ain’t.”

“How bout the counter? It looks empty.”

“Not available for groups.”

Soda looked at the others, confused, but Darry’s gaze narrowed. Two-Bit said, “Come on now, Mr. Richards. We’ve been coming here since we was kids. I know I told the waitress we’d be rowdy, but I didn’t mean nothing by it. We’ll behave as good as we ever do.”

Mr. Richards sighed and said, “That’s not the problem, Keith. We just don’t have anything available for the five of you.”

“Can we wait?” Steve asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t see anything opening up anytime soon, no sense in wasting your time.”

Soda was about to suggest they try somewhere else when Darry took a step forward, something dangerous in his eye, the tension from before growing stronger. “And what if I left and the rest of the guys stayed? What would happen then?”

Mr. Richards held his gaze, steady as ever, and shrugged. “I reckon something might open up.”

A chill went through Soda, and when he looked around to the other guys, their posture had shifted. Darry took another step into his space, and for the first time Mr. Richards seemed to realize how much larger his brother was, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. 

“What, you hear a bit of town gossip and you figure your customers ain’t worth your time?” Darry’s voice was low, an edge to it Soda didn’t like. And it hit him then, if he didn’t know Darry, he’d be terrified right now.

“Come on Dar, we’ll just go somewhere else. I ain’t that hungry anyways,” Soda said, but his brother ignored him.

Mr. Richards’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, and he said with only a slight tremor in his voice, “Mr. Smith is my friend, Darrel, he showed me what you did to his place. I ain’t serving that kinda trash in my restaurant, not if I can help it.”

Darry’s gaze narrowed, and he flexed his hand at his side. Soda wanted to pull him away, but he found himself glued to the floor. “I’m not trash, Mr. Richards, I don’t care what Mr. Smith says. I didn’t do anything to his restaurant. My dad raised me better than that.”

Mr. Richards scoffed. “Your dad was nothing more than an East Side greaser who knocked your mother up and never amounted to anything. I don’t expect his sons to be much better.”

The air hung thick and heavy between them, and time seemed to slow to a stop. Soda blinked. He looked at his friends, the shock written across their faces. He blinked again. Saw Pony scowl, clenching his fist at his side, searching for a weapon that wasn’t there. He blinked again. Watched realization dawn on Mr. Richards’s face, registering what he said, and who he’d said it to.

He blinked again. He watched the words wash over Darry. The shock of their weight nearly making him stumble. He saw the tension he’d been holding onto pull tighter, tighter, until the rubber band snapped. And Soda knew, then, with the certainty that only a younger brother could have, that Darry couldn’t take much more of this without losing himself entirely.

Then, time rushed forward, and Darry was shoving Mr. Richards into the wall. The man’s eyes became comically large, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push Darry off of him.

“Say what you want about me, but don’t you dare talk about my dad,” Darry said, voice low and dangerous in a way that made Soda’s blood run cold.

Steve and Two-Bit were clawing at him desperate to pull him off, but Darry could be impossible to move.

“We’ll go somewhere else Darry, come on man, just calm down.”

“Yeah, we don’t need this place anyway, there’s dozens of diners around here.”

Mr. Richards’s expression grew even more frightened, and for a terrifying moment, Soda thought Darry might kill him. And he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t have his brother thrown in prison for life, locked away with no chance of ever getting out. 

The thought propelled Soda forward, and he shoved himself between Darry and Mr. Richards, desperate to break them apart, because he knew his brother wouldn’t hit him, would be able to see something beyond the blinding rage that consumed every part of him. Soda was close enough to see the tears in his eyes, and he just held him tighter as he pulled him away.

“Darry, please.”

It was Ponyboy’s voice, and Soda felt something shift in Darry beneath him. Soda risked pulling away, just slightly, and looked at his brother.

He stood, breath heaving as he stared at Mr. Richards, an expression on his face Soda had never seen. No one said a word as the older man struggled for breath, and then Darry turned and walked out the front door.

The boys followed close behind, but not before Two-Bit knocked the menus off the table and said, “You guys always had shitty hash browns anyway.” 

They found Darry in the parking lot pacing alongside the truck running his hand through his hair. If he noticed them coming, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Dar, you alright?” Soda said.

Darry laughed, but it sounded strained. “I just assaulted the owner of The Silver Skillet. I’m peachy.”

Two-Bit took a step forward. He, apparently, was the bravest of them all. “Hey man, what he said in there? He had it coming.”

“No, he didn’t!” Darry said, with a sharpness that made all of them flinch, even Darry.

He shook his head and looked down at his hands as if he could see the places he’d pressed into Mr. Richards’s skin.

“I’m gonna get stuck in that place, they’re going to find a way to do it.”

It took Soda a second to realize he meant prison.

“They don’t even have a solid case, no way a jury’s gonna find you guilty,” Pony said.

But Darry shook his head. “It may not be this, it may be something else. But they’re gonna find something to pin on me. Then something else. Then something else. And my life’s going to be nothing more than those four shitty gray walls and telling guys about my glory days as a high school quarterback.”

“Come on Dar, don’t even talk like that. It’ll work out. Don’t it always?” Soda said.

Darry laughed, a strange angry sound. And when he looked at Soda, it was the first time he could remember his brother looking at him like he was stupid. “When has it ever worked out for me, Soda? When Mom and Dad died? When I had to drop out of school? When my high school friends called me up just to beat the hell out of me?”

He was met with silence. None of them knew what to say, they’d never had to deal with something like this before. The words to fix it simply didn't exist.

He ran his hands through his hair, and when he spoke, his voice was more measured. “I’m already changed, and if I get stuck in that place too long, I ain’t gonna be the same person when I come out. I’m scared of who I’ll be.”

“You’ll still be our brother, and that’s enough, alright?” Pony said, his voice close to pleading.

Darry looked over at him and nodded, but Soda could tell that even that wasn’t enough. Darry was slipping, for the first time Soda could remember, and he didn’t know what to do to help him.

“Come on Darry, let’s just go home, yeah? I’ll cook some waffles better than this place ever could. They’ll even be a normal color and everything, scouts honor.”

For a second, he thought Darry was going to tell him no, say he was going to walk home, or that he needed some time alone. Soda wasn’t sure what he would do, images of the last time his brother left in anger flashing in his mind.

But Darry sighed, and instead gave Soda a smile none of them believed. “Yeah, alright. It’ll still be better than the food I’ve been eating all week.”

The tension broke, and the guys began to hop in the truck. Soda moved to head towards the passenger side when he felt Darry’s hand on his shoulder. Soda paused and watched as Darry dug the keys out of his pocket and held them up for Soda to see. “Here, I don’t feel much like driving right now.”

Something stirred in Soda’s chest, a warning siren sounding off. It felt wrong taking the keys from Darry, some sort of natural order he didn’t feel comfortable breaking.

“Nah, man. You drive, you’re way better at it than me anyway.”

Darry gave him a sad smile. “I’m so mad right now I don’t think I need to be behind the wheel, not with these knuckleheads in the bed of the truck. Come on, what’s it gonna hurt?”

Soda took the keys and felt something shift between them he couldn’t name. He wished he could give them back as soon as he took them, but his brother had already turned away. The metal burned hot in his hand, and he had the sudden urge to drop them on the concrete below.

He watched Darry climb into the passenger seat, and was struck with the memory of being freshly sixteen and desperate to drive, how he would have done anything for this moment. He could remember spending hours talking about it with Steve, telling him how he’d get his revenge, or make his brother pay for making him have to go to the drive-in on foot when he could have his own set of wheels like all the other kids.

Now, he looked down at the silver keys, the same lifeless gray as the overcast sky. He closed his hand around them until their metal teeth bit into his skin, and wished for a life so simple where those things mattered.

Chapter Text

When Soda was a freshman he hated Darry.

Well, hate might have been a little strong. But he sure was annoying as hell to live with. He was always moody, hogged the bathroom, and didn’t want to do anything fun anymore. Any time Soda came around Darry told him to quit being a pest. Not that it mattered to Soda anyway, all Darry ever wanted to do anymore was read books or watch football. Soda figured there were better ways to spend his time.

But the thing was, Soda assumed everyone else thought Darry was annoying, too. Sure their parents loved him because they had to, and Pony was cool with him because they didn’t have to share a bedroom, and, okay, the rest of the gang loved when Darry decided to hang out with them on a Saturday. But Soda never saw Darry with any friends of his own. Not once did he bring them around the house or even talk about them at the dinner table. So he figured the rest of Darry’s class thought the same thing Soda did, that Darry was an annoying stick in the mud.

Then Soda went to high school and realized how wrong he was.

Kids practically fawned over Darry when he walked the halls. Boys tried to impress him with wild antics or crude jokes while girls hung around his locker for just a little too long for it to be an accident when they bumped into him.

But the kicker, at least to Soda, wasn’t that he was popular. Soda could live with that, even if it did give his brother an ego almost too big for the Curtis house to contain. No, the problem for Soda was that it wasn’t Greasers he hung out with.

It was Socs. 

Not a single one of Darry’s buddies was a Greaser. Not his best friend Paul, or the quiet kid William, or the loud obnoxious one Mark. All of them came from the other side of the tracks, and every last one of them would have jumped Soda the second Darry had his back turned if given the chance.

And that, more than anything, angered Soda to no end.

But Soda was able to push the feeling away and maintain peace, and if he found more ways to annoy his brother around the house, well, he had it coming anyway.

That was, until, the day he and Steve sat in first period, trying to talk to a few senior girls who wouldn’t give them the time of day. But then, wonder of wonders, Steve just happened to mention that Soda here? He’s Darrel Curtis’s younger brother.

“Darry is your brother? Oh, he’s such a doll,” one of the girls, Mary Anne, said, turning around in her desk for the first time. She gave Soda a considering look.

Soda fought the sudden urge to sock Steve in the jaw. “Yeah, sure, if you like spending your Saturdays sitting around reading books then he’s a real gem.”

The girl laughed and said, “He seems like the type. He’s sorta quiet, you know? Real mysterious.”

Soda thought the only mystery Darry had was how he’d managed to trick all these people into thinking he was cool, but he figured saying that might lose them whatever minuscule ground they’d gained.

Suddenly, her eyes brightened and she said, “You two are coming to my party Friday night, right? After the game? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Soda glanced back at Steve who looked eager, but Soda wasn’t so sure. “Oh, I don’t know, me and Steve here had plans with a few of our friends.”

She waved him off. “They can come too! Everyone’s gonna be there. I invited Darry, of course, but you never know with him. So you’ll have to convince him to tag along with you, yeah?” She looked at him hopeful, and Soda found himself nodding along, though he didn’t know why. He didn’t think Darry had ever tagged along anywhere.

Soda had every intention of leaving the invite as just that. An invite. And possibly never speak to the girl again, but then the bell rang and Steve came sidling up to him after she was out of earshot and said, “So, what time do you want to head over there on Friday?”

Soda couldn’t believe Steve actually wanted to go, he usually hated this sort of thing. “You do know she just invited us so I’d get Dar to go.”

“So? It’s free booze. And you know a Soc like her has the good stuff.”

Soda wasn’t big on drinking, it made his head feel all fuzzy, and Steve knew that better than anyone. So he wasn’t exactly sure what angle he was going for.

“Why do you even want to go? It ain’t exactly your scene.”

Steve sighed and looked away. “They’re doing this big two for one special down at Buck’s this Friday. You know how my old man is. I just want to be as far away from my place that night as possible.”

And with that, Soda knew he couldn’t tell his friend no. So he sighed and tried something else. “Look, I gotta talk to my parents about it. If they say it’s cool, I guess we’ll go.”

He figured it was the perfect out. His Mom would laugh at the very idea of him going to a senior girl’s party, it wouldn’t be his fault they couldn’t go, and then the two of them could hang at the drive-in instead.

But the universe it seemed, was determined to work against him. Because when he brought it up at dinner that night his mom practically beamed and said, “Oh, is it that sweet Mary Anne’s party? How lovely. Darry can give you a ride since he’s going too.” 

Darry choked on the piece of meatloaf he’d just shoved in his mouth and said around the bite, “No he cannot.”

“Darry, manners,” their dad chided.

He swallowed and said. “Sorry, but Mom, I can’t. I’m going straight there with the guys after the game.”

“Which, lucky for us, Soda will also be attending, so there’s no problem.”

Soda actually hadn’t been planning on going to the game, but he figured now would not be a good time to bring that up.

Darry scoffed. “Great, you want me to bring Pony along too while I’m at it?”

“Yeah, I wanna go!” Pony said.

But their mom was not impressed. She gave him a look and said, “Darrel Curtis, you better watch that attitude.”

Darry knew better than to keep pushing when their mom had that tone, they all did, but apparently, he had a death wish. “But it’s lame Mom. I don’t want to be chaperoning my little brother at a party. Mary Anne’s a senior, why’s he even allowed to go? You never would have let me.”

Their mom had put her fork down somewhere in the middle of Darry’s rant and looked at him with an expression Soda knew even their dad was frightened of. But Darry, to his credit, didn’t back down. “Because you didn’t have an older brother to keep an eye on you like Soda does. So you can take your brother to that party on Friday night or you’re not going at all, the choice is yours.”

“But Mom—”

“No, Darrel, I’m done with this attitude. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you are still a member of this family. And I think the rest of us would appreciate it if you’d start acting like it.”

Darry slumped down in his seat, muttering, “Yes ma’am, sorry.” But whenever his mom wasn’t looking, he glared daggers at his younger brother.

Soda figured he should start planning his funeral because Darry was going to kill him.

When they finally got to go to their room after dinner Darry slammed their door and gave him a cold look. “I’m going straight there after the game. If you’re even a second late I’m leaving your ass, you got me?”

Soda scoffed. “You don’t have to actually give me a ride, I can make it there myself.”

Darry rolled his eyes. “You opened your big mouth at dinner, so apparently I do. Just don’t do nothing embarrassing, and stay away from me at the party, you hear? I’ve got people I want to hang out with.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a member of the Darrel Curtis fan club, I think I’ll be just fine hanging out with my real friends. You know, the other Greasers that live around here? Maybe you remember them,” Soda sneered.

Darry narrowed his gaze, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing, just thought you might have forgotten about us since all your friends come from higher places now. Does it feel good, ditching all the people who actually care about you just so you can be popular?”

Darry’s eyes widened and he looked at his brother in shock, but then his expression shut down. “Quit acting so dense, Soda, it don’t suit you.” And with that, Darry grabbed his things and locked himself in the bathroom for far too long for it to be anything other than avoiding Soda. Not that Soda cared. He didn’t particularly want to be around Darry right now, either.

Soda waited by the locker room, possibly the grossest place on campus, for Darry to come out.

He’d been standing there for half an hour, getting strange looks from the other players who passed by. Soda glanced down at his watch for the hundredth time, annoyance growing. Apparently, Darry wasn’t in as big of a rush as he let on the other night.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Darry waltzed out with some of his friends, Paul, Mark, William, and a few other boys whose names Soda still hadn’t learned. 

Darry caught sight of Soda and seemed to remember for the first time that he’d promised to take his little brother, because he immediately frowned and told the others, “You go on ahead, I’ll be right behind ya.”

“You ain’t riding with us?” Paul asked.

“Nah, my brother’s tagging along, I’m giving him a ride.”

William smiled at Soda and said, “You’re Soda, right? Darry’s mentioned you a few times. Still can’t believe your name’s Sodapop. Makes you wonder how Dar here ended up with such a boring name.”

Darry laughed. “I think the ‘Junior’ is a pretty big clue.”

But before Soda could answer one of the other boys, Mark, gave Soda a look he didn’t care for and said, “Didn’t know this party was a Greaser affair.”

The other boys laughed, even Darry. But Soda didn’t find it very funny.

Darry punched Mark in the arm and said, “Any place I go is all greased up, and don’t you forget it.”

They parted ways, and Soda couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you let them say stuff like that?”

Darry gave him a confused look, “Like what?”

“All that stuff about Greasers being invited. You just laughed along with them like you don’t live in the same hood as the rest of us.”

Darry scoffed. “This again? That ain’t what that was about at all. You just don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get? You have a few Socs give you the time of day and suddenly you’re above the rest of us?”

Darry threw him a look and said, “Ain’t you heading to the same Soc party as me tonight?”

“Not by choice,” Soda muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s just get this whole thing over with,” Soda said, and they went the rest of the way in silence.

Darry ditched Soda the second they got to the party, but that was okay. It didn’t take him long to find some familiar faces.

Steve was hanging out in the backyard with Two-Bit and Dally, the three of them smoking like chimneys. Soda noticed the Socs giving them annoyed looks, but tried his best to ignore them.

“Look who decided to finally show up,” Dally said, pointing his cigarette at Soda.

“You brought the whole gang?” Soda asked Steve.

His friend shrugged and offered him a cigarette, which Soda happily accepted. “Why not? That girl said they could come. Figured we could see what the other half lived like.”

“Thought you might have chickened out, though. Took you forever to get here,” Two-Bit said.

Soda smiled, “Nah, Dar just took an hour primping and preening after the game, you’d think I had a sister or something.”

Dally nodded. “I saw him chatting up some girl earlier, must be trying to dress to impress, you know?”

Soda scoffed, “Wonder how long that charade will last.”

Two-Bit blinked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a Soc girl right?”

“Yeah.”

Figures, Soda thought, but just shrugged and said, “Then it can’t go nowhere. Darry can wear the right clothes and ignore us in the halls all he wants, but that don’t change where he comes from. As soon as that girl realizes it she’ll be off on the next Soc.”

Soda expected some sort of agreement from the other boys, but he was met instead with a stilted silence. Dally frowned at him and said, “Hey man, Darry’s alright.”

Soda scoffed. He was tired of everyone defending his brother, acting like Soda was the difficult one when Darry couldn’t be bothered to hang out with them anymore. “Are we talking about the same guy? The Soc wannabe who’s too good for the rest of us.”

Dally shook his head, blowing out a plume of smoke in the chilly October night. “Dar just ain’t cut out for the East Side, man. Ain’t his fault. You gotta cut him some slack.”

“Slack for what? Those guys would kill us if we gave them a chance, and Darry acts like he’s their friend? I just don’t get what happened to my brother, he used to be alright, but now all he wants to do is go hang out with Paul.”

The words came out angrier than he meant them to, and when he finished, he felt raw and exposed, like he’d shown a part of himself he meant to keep private. The other three boys gave him looks of pity and Soda found he couldn’t stand there anymore.

He pushed away from the wall and said, “I’m going to grab a drink,” before anyone could stop him.

He shoved through the crowded living room hardly able to take a step. The air in the house felt hot and thick, the lights too bright, the people bumping into him sticky with sweat. He wanted to leave, to go back to his room and listen to music that was actually good, not whatever Top 40’s crap Mary Anne had on the record player.

And worse still were the glares Soda saw thrown his way. The whispers that followed him around the room that Greasers didn’t belong there; and Soda knew they were right.

He pushed through towards the front door and was nearly there when his foot caught something and tripped him up. He fell hard, slamming into the back of a guy so large Soda thought he might have been a brick wall in past life. The jostling caused the boy to dump his drink all over himself. He stood, frozen, and when he turned around Soda groaned. He’d slammed into Darry’s buddy Mark.

“What the hell, man? This was my favorite shirt.”

Soda sighed. “Sorry, it was an accident. Here, let me get you a napkin or something.” But Mark caught Soda’s shoulder before he could pull away.

“You think this is funny Greaser? Coming in on our turf and messing with us? You think we don’t notice you out back raising hell?”

Soda rolled his eyes, "I don’t know, you’ve been hanging with Darry for years and you don’t seem to care. Not sure how the rest of us are any different.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped towards Soda, looming over him. It was moments like this when Soda was thankful for his older brother’s size because he was so used to fighting someone the size of a tank he didn’t so much as blink at the idea of taking on Mark.

“I suggest you watch your tone, little man, or something worse than some beer might be coming your way.”

People had gathered around them, waiting for the impending fight, and Soda knew he couldn’t back out of it even if he wanted to.

So instead he smiled and said, “Really? I’d like to see what you got.”

But before it could escalate any further, there was a commotion behind Soda that pulled Mark’s gaze away. Soda risked a glance behind him and groaned.

Because standing there was Darry, the rest of the Greasers a few steps behind. One of them must have run off and told him about the fight.

“Hey, Mark, back off man,” Darry said.

Mark scoffed. “What’s it to you, Curtis?”

“You’re messing with my brother, that’s what.”

Mark glanced back at Soda and seemed to only now be connecting him to the boy he’d met by the locker rooms. Maybe he really was as dumb as he looked, Soda thought.

“Well, maybe you should leave the kid on the East Side where he belongs. Little shit ruined my shirt.”

Soda thought Darry would sock him right then and there but he didn’t. He just crossed his arms and said, “I know Coach had to bench you because haven’t had a good game in three weeks, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on my brother. You wanna hit something? There’s a tree out back with your name on it. At least it’s got the same level of intelligence.”

It was worse than any punch Darry could have thrown because all the other kids laughed. Mark looked around, gaze growing angrier, before finally settling on Darry.

“Don’t be an idiot, Mark,” William cut in; he stood to the side with Paul, who was grinning ear to ear. But William’s words didn’t seem to phase the larger boy.

Mark rushed towards Darry, and the fight was on.

He pulled back and socked Darry hard in the jaw, it made Darry stumble and would have knocked most boys out cold, but Darry wasn’t most boys.

Darry was bigger, stronger, and perhaps, most important of all, sober. And once he got the offense, Mark didn’t stand a chance. Soda watched and realized Darry was pulling punches, doing just enough to wear the other boy down, before finally, Darry managed to shove him hard to the ground. Mark knocked a lamp over in the fall and it shattered on the floor. Somewhere in the group of kids, a girl screamed.

“That’s my mom’s favorite lamp! Stop, please, my parents are gonna kill me!”

Darry immediately froze as Mark struggled to get up. William stepped in to keep the boy down. “Sorry, Marry Anne, I’ll help clean it up if you like.”

Mary Anne sighed and said, “No it’s fine. I’ll just be grounded until the end of time is all.”

Darry glanced at the small group that had gathered around him and winced. Then he found Soda in the crowd and said, “You ready to get out of here?”

It was the greatest thing his brother had ever said.

“Please.”

They rode in silence for a while, until Soda couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dad’s gonna kill you when he sees your shiner.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna be grounded for like a month, we ain’t supposed to get in fights.”

“You trying to make me regret it?”

“No, I just don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Why you hit your buddy just to keep me out of a fight.”

Darry laughed. “Mark ain’t my buddy, we just hang out with the same people.”

“Ain’t that the same thing?”

Darry shrugged. “Doesn’t feel like it. I don’t hang with him 'cause I want to, just don’t put up a fuss when he’s there, that ain’t no fun to be around either.”

They were quiet again, and eventually, Darry sighed and glanced over at him.

“Sorry I was an ass about taking you to the party, it wasn’t you, I just had plans to go with someone else.”

This was news to Soda. “Who?”

“…Melissa Melbourne.”

So it seemed Dally had been right. “You’re sweet on Melissa Melbourne? Since when?”

Darry sighed, “Well, I was, but she said some stuff tonight I didn’t particularly like.”

“Like what?”

Darry shrugged, “Just some stuff about the gang being at the party. She’s not a fan of Greasers, I guess.” Soda had been right, too, it seemed. But he didn’t feel good about it now, not like he would have been if Darry had admitted this to him an hour ago.

“I just don’t get how you put up with the Socs all the time.”

Darry glanced over at Soda and kept his tone light as he said, “They’re people too, just with nicer cars.”

But Soda frowned. He wasn’t in a joking mood, he didn’t think Darry was either. “Yeah, but they always have all these digs about being a Greaser. Don’t that get under your skin?”

Darry sighed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. When he answered, his tone was measured. “I don’t want to stay here forever, you know?”

“What, East Side ain’t good enough for ya?”

Darry threw him a look, “Will you quit putting words in my mouth? It ain’t nothing like that, just— I don’t know. I get tired of all this Soc and Greaser stuff. I just want to get out of here and go somewhere I can just be Darry, you know? None of the baggage of where I grew up. I used to think I couldn’t do it, but with the way football’s been going, I think I got a chance.”

They’d pulled into their drive. Darry threw the truck into park and turned to look at Soda.

“I have a real shot at doing stuff I used to think wasn’t possible for a guy like me. And some of it’s because of those guys. I know what you think, but they ain’t all bad. Paul’s the reason I even started thinking about scholarships, and William’s real nice, he helped me figure out what schools are good.”

He looked up at their house, the light in the living room was on, and from where they were parked, they could just make out their dad sitting in his recliner, waiting for Soda and Darry to come home.

“It’s not like I wanna leave you guys, I just wanna be able to do something with my life, and help out Mom and Dad. They sacrifice a lot for us and never complain, maybe if I could make something of myself, I could do a little for them too.”

Soda had never thought about it like that. He’d always been content with his world, his friends, he’d never considered fighting for more.

“But those Socs don’t get what it’s like to live out here,” Darry continued. “They’ll never understand what we have to put up with, and I don’t think I want them to. But you gotta understand Soda, for a long time, there weren’t any Greasers around at school for me to hang out with. You guys are all younger than me, and the only Greasers in my grade are Tim and his gang, and nothing against them, we just never clicked like that. I had to figure out a way to make it in school or else those Socs would have killed me. I ain’t gonna ditch them now just because you boys are finally in high school. Then I’m no better than them, you dig?”

Soda didn’t like it, necessarily, but he understood. He thought Darry was crazy for dreaming of a life beyond the Greasers and the Socs, but it seemed like a mighty nice place to live.

As they made their way inside, Soda thought that maybe he’d come clean about how Darry got the black eye, keep him out of trouble, just this once.

After all, at the end of the day, Greasers had to stick together.

It was early on a Saturday. Pony had already left to get his morning run in, and Darry still hadn’t come out of his room, something that worried Soda, but not quite enough to go and check on him yet.

Steve and Two-Bit weren’t around, it was far too early on a weekend for them to show signs of life, so Soda had a rare moment in the kitchen to himself.

And he knew, despite how much he’d been avoiding it, that this was the perfect opportunity for him to start studying for his GED.

He sat at the kitchen table, staring at the covers of the books Mrs. Miller had given him. He’d come up with every excuse imaginable not to crack them open since she brought them over, instead opting to shove them under his bed to collect dust. But he decided he was going to be brave this Saturday. He was going to push his ego to the side and do something that would help his family.

He just had to get past the cover first.

“You know, those work a lot better if you actually open them up.”

Soda startled and looked up, Darry leaned against the threshold of the kitchen, eyes bruised purple and smile strained. They still hadn’t talked about what happened the day he got released, or what they’d do about the trial coming up. He didn’t think either one of them knew where to begin.

“It’s just a lot of ground to cover, I ain’t ever been good at tests, you know?”

Darry shrugged. “Yeah, but you got a lot of people to help, me and Pony to start. Have you mentioned it to him?”

Soda shook his head, he didn’t know where to begin with that either.

Darry looked like he was going to say more when a knock at the door halted the conversation.

Soda and Darry both stared at it. Soda knew Darry was running through the same list of people who could be knocking at their door on a Saturday morning. And not a single name that came to mind was good. 

Darry sighed and made his way to the door, and Soda, remembering Chief Holden’s unannounced visit just a few months ago, followed a few paces behind.

But when Darry opened it, Soda couldn’t place the man standing on the other side. He seemed uncomfortable, with one hand raised as if to knock again, and a casserole dish clutched tight in the other.

It wasn’t until Darry said, “William?” with such shock in his voice that it came rushing back to him.

William, the kid with Paul that night that Soda and Tim Shepard went to jump him.

One of the guys that jumped Darry and started this whole thing.

“Uh, hi, Darry.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Soda said taking a step in front of his brother. He was surprised Darry let him, but Darry looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

William seemed to notice Soda for the first time, his gaze flickered back and forth between the two Curtis brothers. He seemed unsure of what to say, and eventually landed on, “I came to talk to you, I brought this,” and held the casserole up lamely. “Mom said you’re supposed to bring them to funerals and stuff.”

Darry stared for a moment, then said, “No one’s dead, William.”

William let out an awkward laugh that sounded out of place. “No, I know, It’s just— do you think I could come inside for a sec? I have some things I want to talk to you about. It’s chicken and rice. The casserole, I mean. Mom remembered you always liked it when she brought them to the potlucks at school.”

If it were up to Soda, he would have kicked the kid out right then and there. But it wasn’t his call.

Darry studied William for a long time, long enough to make him squirm. But despite his obvious discomfort, and the fact that Darry could knock him out cold in a second, William stood his ground, keeping his gaze locked on Darry. Which, Soda thought, was no small feat when it came to his brother; he could be intimidating as hell when he wanted to. Whatever William wanted, it must be important, and despite himself, even Soda was curious.

Darry must have been as well because, eventually, he relented, and held the door open a bit wider.

“Yeah, come on. But only because that really is a good casserole.”

Darry led them to the kitchen table while he put the casserole into the fridge.

William cleared his throat and said, “So Darry, how ya been?”

But Darry wasn’t in the mood for niceties. “Why are you here William?”

William took a steadying breath and fixed his gaze on Darry. “Look, I came out here because I wanted to apologize to you.”

Darry sighed and sat down heavy at the kitchen table, Soda could tell he was already pulling out of the conversation. “William, I appreciate it, but it ain’t gonna change anything, alright? Best to leave it in the past.”

But William was shaking his head. “No. You deserve to hear this. I’ve felt guilty ever since that night. I shouldn’t have let Paul talk me into that whole thing. And I certainly shouldn’t have called you when I knew what was going to happen.”

Anger shot through Soda, “You’re the one who called Darry and invited him out? You started this whole thing.”

William winced. “I know, and I’m sorry, honest I am. But I swear I had no idea about the robbery.”

Soda scoffed. “How could you possibly not know?”

William glanced at Darry, but when he didn’t say anything, he continued. “After we jumped Darry the rest of us left. As far as I knew, Paul did too. I swear, he never mentioned anything about robbing The Brewclub, I mean it could have been someone else, for all I know.”

He gave Darry a hopeful look, but his brother just shook his head and said quietly, “No, it was him.”

William grimaced then nodded. “Well, it doesn’t matter. When I found out about you getting charged I knew I had to do something. I saw what you were like that night, no way you did that kind of damage.”

Darry leaned forward, running his hand through his hair. He seemed tired, more tired than Soda had ever seen him. “That’s great and all William, but there’s nothing you can do. They’ve already arrested me, there’s going to be a trial. And honestly? I’m not sure you can convince a jury that I’m innocent, not in this town.”

But William was shaking his head. “No, listen. I talked to some of the other guys, and a couple of us would be willing to testify on your behalf. Not sure what’ll happen if the rest decide to keep up Paul’s lie, but it’s gotta be better than six versus one, right? At the very least throw in some reasonable doubt, and if we get even one juror, then maybe we can throw this whole thing out the window.”

Darry sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s good of you, William, but I don’t even have a lawyer yet. I’m supposed to meet with a public defender on Friday, but I don’t know how great my defense is going to be.”

William gave Darry a sheepish look. “That’s actually the other reason I’m here.”

Darry’s head snapped up, something weary in his expression. “You didn’t talk to your dad, did you?”

“Why’s that matter?” Soda asked.

Darry sighed, “His dad’s a big time lawyer in town, you’ve probably seen his billboards up, ‘Better call Bill!’”

Soda stared at William, “That’s your dad?”

William nodded, “Yeah, I came clean to him and my mom about what happened, they were pretty mad, let me tell ya. But once all the yelling was over my dad told me he wants to take on your case, says we owe it to you.”

Darry stared at him a moment, expression unreadable, and then he did something strange.

He laughed.

William frowned, “What’s so funny?”

Darry pulled himself together and said, “I’m sorry, William, honest I am, but on what planet do you think I can afford to hire your dad? Do you see my house? The street I’m living on? I know your boys liked to pretend I wasn’t a Grease, but my paycheck says otherwise.”

William shook his head. “But that’s just it. My dad says I’m partly responsible for why you’re in this position—”

Soda scoffed, “I’d say a little more than ‘partly’ since you’re the one that lured him there in the first place.”

William grimaced, “Well, semantics aside, the deal is this. Since it’s my fault, I front the bill. He’s going to let me work it off at his office, so he gets me to do some free labor, you get one of Tulsa’s best lawyers, and maybe we can win this case and put this whole thing behind us. Everybody wins.”

It may work in theory, but Soda knew Darry better than anyone, and there was no way he’d take William up on this. It was too much, and Darry’s pride wouldn’t ever allow it.

Soda was proven right when Darry shook his head and said, “Ain’t no way I’m taking a handout like that.”

William looked at him like he was crazy. “Why not? It’s fair, Darry. And it works. You can’t go to prison for this for something we did.”

“You didn’t rob that restaurant, William. Hell, you didn’t even hit me that night.”

“No, but you’re brother’s right. I called you up, convinced you to come and hang out with us, and then I was just as guilty as the rest of them for pinning you down. Let me do this for you Darry, please. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t deserve that. But I just want to do something to help make things right, and this is the best I can offer.”

Darry sighed. Soda knew that this whole thing made him uncomfortable, and even if William did convince him, his brother would hate feeling like he was a charity case, even if it wasn’t true.

But then, an idea came to Soda. “Could Darry work it off, too?”

The boys blinked at him like they’d forgotten he was there.

“What do you mean?” William asked.

“Well, Darry can’t work there full-time or nothing. But maybe he could put in some time on the weekends, or a few days after his shift. Between the two of you putting in hours, you could probably work off the bill pretty quick. Then William can help out, and it won’t feel like a handout.”

William gave Soda a considering look. “I think my dad would be okay with it. He knows you from school and always liked you. I could talk to him about it, but I don’t see any reason he’d say no.”

Darry blinked between the two of them. “It’s just so much, I don’t know…”

Soda had one card to play, and he knew it’d work every time. “Come on, Dar. You can't go to jail, you think me and Pony could make it without you? This is our best chance and we gotta do whatever it takes to keep us together. Besides, it’d be stupid to pass this up, and we all know you ain’t the dumb one in the family.”

Darry pulled his gaze towards his brother and studied him for a long time. Soda didn’t know what he was searching for, but he wished he could give it to him.

Finally, Darry gave him a tired smile, “You ain’t dumb either, Pepsi. Not with ideas like that.”

“So you’ll do it?” Soda asked, almost afraid to hope.

Darry gave a slight nod. “What the hell? It’s worth a shot.”

William perked up for the first time since he’d knocked on their door. “Really? Does that mean you’ll meet with my dad then?”

Darry glanced back at his former friend. There was still a hesitancy there, but he seemed more sure of himself than he’d been in days. And that, in Soda’s book, was a win. “Guess I don’t got much choice, do I?”

Soda smiled at Darry and said, “Well since that’s settled, can we try some of that chicken and rice casserole? I’m starving.”

Chapter Text

Darry was their father’s son in ways that Soda and Pony could never quite measure up to.

That wasn’t a bad thing, nor was it a competition among the boys, but simply a quiet truth within their family, undeniable even if never spoken out loud.

Their father loved them all equally and there wasn’t a part of Soda that doubted that for even a second. But Darry idolized their father and trusted him with secrets Soda knew he’d never told him.

Their father was only twenty when Darry was born which meant that in many ways they grew up together. He learned how to be a better man through becoming Darry’s father, and in turn, taught his son how to become a man himself. 

And in their dad’s final years, when Darry started working with him at Cooper’s Construction, the two of them carpooled to work every day. They spent countless hours on those car rides talking about life, or love, or friends, or all the things Darry dreamed of becoming. Soda never knew what they talked of exactly, and he’d never asked. But he knew those talks with their father settled something in Darry and gave him a confidence he so desperately craved.

It wasn’t until after their death that Soda thought he understood their dynamic, because in a lot of ways, Darry had become that very person for him. He trusted his brother’s judgment more now than he ever had before. Darry had a way of cutting through a situation that settled Soda’s nerves and soothed his worries, much like their dad had done for Darry.

It was that very faith in Darry that pushed Soda forward in his studies, something he still didn’t believe himself capable of, but he felt like he owed it to his brother to try.

Which was why he was sitting at their kitchen table on a Saturday morning, only a few weeks before he was scheduled to take his GED, taking as many practice tests as he could. Pony had been helping him out all morning and kept trying to convince him that he was doing fine, but Soda didn’t think he’d ever believe him.

“Honestly? I think you’re just fishing for compliments at this point,” Pony said.

They’d been sitting in the hard wooden chairs for hours now, and Soda’s back was starting to ache. He leaned back, trying to stretch it out, and said, “How do you figure that?”

“Because the alternative is that you really are dumber than you look.” Pony said with a smirk. “You’ve passed every practice test you’ve taken, you’ve picked up every concept me and Dar have gone over with you, and the rest of them you figured out yourself. I don’t even know why you’re worrying.”

Soda shook his head, it was hard for his brother to understand, school came easy to him. “I ain’t ever been good at this stuff, kid. Plus a lot’s riding on this besides just passing some test.”

Pony looked away and Soda couldn’t help but wince. They’d finally told their brother about their plans to switch custody over once Soda turned eighteen and (hopefully) passed this damn test, but the conversation had been brief. And Pony hadn’t exactly been gunning to talk about it since.

But maybe now was the right time. “Hey, you are okay with me getting custody, right? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Pony shrugged, picking at his fingernails, not quite meeting Soda’s eye. “It ain’t really gonna change anything, right? I mean, Darry’s still in charge and stuff. I get it’s just in case something happens to him.” He glanced up at Soda and with a sureness in his eye said, “It’s just a piece of paper at the end of the day, ain’t that big of a deal.”

Soda nodded slowly. He didn’t think Pony was lying, he really did seem okay about changing the custody, which Soda couldn’t help but feel relieved about. But Soda knew Pony better than anyone, and he could tell there was something his brother wasn’t saying. “If that’s how you feel then what’s bothering you?”

Pony chewed on his fingernail, bitten down to the quick. And when he spoke, it surprised Soda. “You don’t think he’s cutting himself out of our lives or something, do you?”

Soda blinked, whatever he’d expected it wasn’t that. “What? You mean Darry? Why do you say that?”

Pony shrugged. “He talked to me for a long time about switching custody over.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Pony nodded. “Yeah. And I don’t know, just something about the way he was talking…” Pony faded off as if trying to choose the right word. Eventually, he shrugged. “I can’t explain it, just a feeling I have I guess.”

Soda sighed. He’d noticed something was off with their brother, but he’d been living with the hope that it would blow over on its own. When their parents died Darry had been distant as well, but only because he kept himself so busy. Almost as if he was afraid to stop for too long because his thoughts might catch up with him. So instead he threw himself headfirst into anything he could to keep his mind occupied, like work, or chores, or the legal battle over his brother’s custody. It was a different version of Darry than the one Soda had grown up with, but still familiar. He was stressed and at the end of his rope more often than not, but at the end of the day, he was still Darry.

But loathe as Soda was to admit it, this time was different. It was like he was pulling away from his brothers. He was gone before Pony and Soda were up for breakfast, and didn’t come home until long after dark. Even dinner, the one meal he always made a point of preparing because of their mom’s rule, he hardly ever showed up to anymore.

And when he was home, he no longer hung out in the living room with his brothers or ate cake with them in the kitchen after a long day of work. Instead, he spent his time at the house squirreled away in his room with his door shut, with nothing but the ghost of their parents to keep him company.

“Maybe he just needs to get out and do something fun, get his mind off of everything? All he’s been doing lately is working.”

But Pony shook his head. “He don’t hardly leave the house anymore unless he’s going to work. Two-Bit’s been trying to get him to go out for weeks, me too. But he won’t budge. He’s too embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? About what?”

Pony gave him a look. “Come on, you know how Dar is. He’s proud to a fault. And ever since that day Mr. Richards went off on him at the diner, he thinks everyone’s looking at him like he’s a hood or something.”

Soda sighed and thought back to what Mr. Cooper had told him right after Darry had been arrested. How this would be hard on Darry in ways he wouldn’t be able to prepare for. Soda was starting to understand what he meant. “When we were growing up, Dad used to tell us our reputation was everything, remember? Said it didn’t matter where we came from, but what we did and how we treated people would follow us like a shadow. And Darry’s tough on himself, kid. You know he hates feeling like he’s letting Dad down.”

Pony nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “I’m just worried about him. I know that he’s got this fancy lawyer and all, and I think he’s got a good shot of winning this trial, but something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but it’s like he’s giving up or pulling away somehow. It’s just a feeling I have, but it makes me nervous.”

Before Soda could say anything more the phone rang. Soda gave Pony an apologetic look, but he just waved him off and headed to the fridge for a snack while Soda answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Soda, how’s studying going?” It was Darry, he was at the Moore Law Firm today, he spent practically every free moment he had there.

Soda tried to throw off his conversation with Pony and keep his tone light. “Pretty good, Ponyboy gave me an A plus, so I’m thinking who needs to take the test? That’s gotta be good enough for certification, right?”

Darry chuckled, “I think you might still have to do the real deal, Pepsi. Although a pass from Pony is a close second.”

Soda shrugged for Pony’s benefit more than Darry’s. “Well, what are you gonna do? Can’t blame a guy for trying. So what’s up? I know you ain’t calling to chat about my studying.”

“I hate to bother you, but I left some files at the house on my night stand, think you can drive them to the office? I already called and asked Two-Bit if you can borrow his car, so he’s bringing it over.”

“What, you don’t trust Two-Bit to get it there?” Soda said, smiling, he already knew his brother’s answer.

“Haha, very funny. We both know it wouldn’t get here until tomorrow if I waited on him. You sure you don’t mind? I’d get it myself but I gotta run a few errands for Mr. Moore.”

“Don’t worry about it, I need a break anyway. I’ll head over as soon as he gets here.”

“Thanks, Soda. I probably won’t be back from my errands so just leave it on my desk. Susan will tell you where it is, she runs the front office.”

The line clicked off, before Soda could say anything else. He looked over at Pony, and said, “Leave it to Darry to figure out how to avoid us even when we’re doing favors for him.”

Pony laughed, but neither one of them liked how uncomfortably close it was to the truth.

It didn’t take Soda long to find the files and head over to the law firm. The secretary, Susan, pointed him in the direction of Darry’s desk. Despite everything, Soda couldn’t help but smile. Darry’s desk. A simple, wooden thing tucked in the corner of the building. He didn’t have anything personal on it, but it was his. It seemed far too grown up for the brother he’d spent summer mornings going down to the swimming hole and afternoons riding bikes and raising hell, and yet it fit him more than any of the jobs Darry had worked before. He put the file on top and was just about to leave when someone called his name. 

“Are you Sodapop Curtis?”

Soda turned to find a thin man with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper gaze coming his way, but the smile he gave Soda was kind. He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing Soda owned, and suddenly he felt underdressed in his worn jeans and faded shirt. “Yessir.”

The man’s smile widened. “Gosh, I can’t believe how much you look like your mother. I mean, I always knew that Darry inherited more than just your father’s name, but you really are the spitting image of Marie.”

Soda blinked. He got that comment a lot growing up but he never quite knew how to respond. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not trying to be rude, but have we met?”

The man laughed and shook his head. “Where are my manners? I guess I ought to introduce myself. Bill Moore, William’s dad, also known as the guy taking on your brother’s case. Nice to meet you kid, well, officially that is. Your brother talks about you so much I feel like I know you already.”

He held out a hand and Soda shook it. “Nice to meet you, too, sir. We sure do appreciate all you’re doing to help us out. It really means a lot, and I know Darry’s loved working here.” Darry hadn’t said it outright, but Soda knew it was true. In the brief moments Soda had seen Darry, he was going over files he brought home from work, or talked about his day at the office with a smile on his face. It’d been the one thing in his life that seemed to bring some joy, and that, at least, kept a few of Soda’s fears at bay.

“Well, I figured I owed it to him seeing as how William got him roped into all this,” He shook his head, disappointment pulling at the corners of his mouth. But when he looked back at Soda his expression was clear of any aggravation. “Besides, I always liked your brother, thought he had a good head on his shoulders. If I had known how hard of a worker he was, I would’ve hired him years ago. Shame about his scholarship. He would have done Oklahoma proud.”

“Yessir, we thought so too.”

Soda thought the conversation would end with that, but then Mr. Moore looked around and said, “Good, good. Your brother still out?”

The question was odd. Was it some sort of test? He certainly didn’t want to get his brother in trouble. What exactly did Darry say he was doing on the phone call? Running errands for Mr. Moore, he was pretty sure, so he was allowed to be gone, right? Soda didn’t know what else to do so he just shrugged. “I reckon so, sir. I think he mentioned some errands he had to run.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I was actually wondering if you would mind stepping into my office with me for a second? I have something I need to run by you real quick.”

Soda must have had a worried look because he chucked and said, “Nothing bad son, don’t worry, just want your help with something is all.” 

Soda couldn’t think of a single way he’d be helpful to this man, but he followed him into his office anyway.

He offered Soda some butterscotch candy sitting in a glass bowl then gestured towards the chair in front of his desk, which after a moment of hesitation, Soda sat down in.

“Now, I don’t have a lot of time, not sure when that brother if yours is getting back so lets not beat around the bush, alright?” Mr. Moore said, sitting in his desk chair and unwrapping his own piece of candy.

“…Okay?”

He gave Soda a grim look and sighed. “I’m having some… issues with Darry.”

Soda’s heart stuttered in his chest. He suddenly felt like he was sitting in on a parent-teacher conference where he found out his kid was flunking out. Hadn’t Mr. Moore just told him how helpful his brother had been? How hard of a worker? It would kill Darry if he knew Mr. Moore had called Soda in here to complain about him.

“Is he not helping out around here? I’m sure if you talk to him he’d do whatever to fix it.”

Mr. Moore waved him off. “Oh no, nothing like that, he’s excellent with his job. Like I said earlier, I wish half the men working here had his work ethic. Including my son some days, but don’t tell him I said that. It’s actually about his case.”

Relief crashed through Soda, but he only had a second of reprieve, because he quickly remembered there could be far worse consequences for Darry if there was a problem with his case. “You mean about the robbery?”

Mr. Moore nodded, he thrummed his fingers across his desk. “We finally have a trial date, and Darry knows this of course, he’s been cooperative on everything so far. Except for one thing, he still hasn’t told me what happened during the robbery.”

That gave Soda pause. “What? Wasn’t he supposed to tell you a few months ago?”

Soda remembered Darry mentioning it right when Mr. Moore took on his case. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about it, but then Darry rarely did.

The older man nodded. “Usually it’s the first thing I require from a client. These are unusual circumstances, of course, and I do know some things, like what William witnessed when they jumped him.

“Just based on that story alone, I understand this is a traumatic experience for him so I haven’t pushed. But I need his testimony to build a case, and if I don’t start soon, I won’t be any help to him.”

Soda nodded. It was hard to get Darry to open up, Soda certainly never figured out how to do it, but he was surprised he was throwing off someone like Mr. Moore. The man was going out on a limb for Darry, and he knew that his brother felt like he owed him a great debt. Maybe, Soda thought, Darry was more bothered by that night than he realized.

Mr. Moore continued. “I don’t think he’s hiding something, necessarily. I just think he doesn’t quite know how to talk about what’s happened. Has he told anyone to your knowledge?”

Soda shook his head. “There’s not many people he trusts like that, sir. Honestly, the only person I can think of is my dad, and well…”

Mr. Moore sighed. “I understand it’s a lot for him but I can’t do him any good if I don’t know what happened. There’s no way for me to build a defense. And if I don’t get it from him soon, I won’t have the time.”

“And you think I can help?”

The lawyer nodded. “I don’t have a lot of options, kid. I need to know what happened to move forward, or else he’ll end up in jail and there’s nothing I can do. I know it’s highly unprofessional of me to ask you this, and if there was any other way I certainly wouldn’t be bothering you with it, but—”

“You want me to see if he’ll tell me?”

“It’s not ideal, I know, but maybe it would be a step in the right direction,” Mr. Moore said. 

Soda sighed. “I don’t know that I’ll be any help, sir, to be honest. My brother can be stubborn.”

Mr. Moore gave him a weak smile. “It’s the only thing I can think of, Soda. I don’t have a lot of options left. And I really do want to help out your brother. He’s a good kid.”

Soda honestly didn’t know if he could do anything. Darry had a habit of shutting down if you pushed him too hard, and Soda had a feeling that was all that would happen if he tried to insert himself now. But he found himself nodding anyway. Because Mr. Moore was right about one thing, what other choice did they have?

“I’ll talk to him, but I can’t make any promises.”

Mr. Moore nodded and gave him a relieved smile. “That’s all I ask kid, and we’ll go from there.”

Soda couldn’t stay still after meeting with Mr. Moore, so after getting the car back to Two-Bit, he went for a walk. He hoped it’d clear his head, or give him some idea where to begin, but he spent most of the time panicking. Darry was tight-lipped at the best of times and kept everything close to his chest. He didn’t like it when someone tried to pry information out of him, which was exactly what Soda would be doing.

He couldn’t help but think back to the days in the aftermath of the attack, when the bruises were still fresh and Darry jumped at his own shadow. Soda tried to get him to open up then, but Darry’s words haunted him, even now, “I can’t Soda, I can’t, okay? I’m not trying to be difficult here, but if I let it all out I don’t think I’ll ever stop, just please.” The pleading tone so uncharacteristic of his brother.

Soda had been afraid to push too hard then, and if he was honest with himself, he was terrified now. The Darry he was living with had changed in the past few months. Pony was right, even if Soda didn’t want to admit it, his brother had become closed off and distant in a way Soda had never seen.

Besides, Soda had never had to deal with an issue like this with Darry. It was always Soda or Pony that fell apart, never the Superman of their group. When Soda had crumpled under his grief and anger, Darry had helped stitch him back together again. When Pony had lost everything he held dear, Darry tried to come in and fill in the gaps. How were Soda and Pony supposed to be there for him, how could they possibly be what he needed?

The thought carried him to the end of the street corner, and when he looked up he realized he had walked all the way to Rose Hill Cemetery, the very place they’d buried the parents.

Soda stood in front of the rod iron gate and tried to remember how to breathe. He hadn’t been back there since their funeral. As far as he knew, his brothers hadn’t either. Soda didn’t know why, exactly, except that he was afraid to see their names written out in stone.

He knew he should turn back, but he walked through the gate anyway. Past the headstones and the weeping willows. Around the crypts and mausoleums. Over the cracked road guiding him deeper into the grounds. Part of him was surprised he even knew the way, he’d been such a mess the last time he’d been there, but never once did he falter. His feet moved almost on their own, as if being pulled in the right direction. 

Finally, he found them. Their graves were simple, flat granite pressed into the ground, their names printed across the stone. By his mother’s grave sat a stone vase, fresh flowers sitting inside. Apparently Soda had been wrong, one of his brother’s had been here recently.

Unsure of what else to do now that he was there, he sat down in front of their graves, running his fingers through the grass. Soda cleared his throat and said, “Hey Mom, Dad. Long time no see, huh? How’s it going? Same old same old I guess.”

He paused. The wind passed through, the gentle gust pulling at the branches. The graveyard was speckled with orange leaves.

“I don’t know how to do this. I mean, I wasn’t all that great at talking to you when you were alive. What do I say to you guys when you’re dead?”

It was true, he was never quite as close to his parents as his brothers. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just what happened. Pony was so young that their mother still kept a watchful gaze on him. And Darry and their father had a bond that fathers and sons dreamed of. Soda used to resent him for it when they were alive, but after their death, he was almost thankful, in a way. Like Darry had been scraping up all the advice he could from their dad.

“I don’t know if you guys have been keeping up, but Darry’s gotten himself into a bit of trouble.”

He shifted his weight. The grave markers stared back at him, cold and uncaring.

“Yeah, he’s going to be about as easy to talk to as the two of you are.”

He pulled at the blades of grass beneath his hands. The morning dew had left them damp.

“I just want him to be okay, you know? I don’t know how to do that. You guys would know what to say. I wish he could talk to you.”

He sat in front of their graves for a long time waiting for something to come to him. What, exactly, he didn’t know, but something.

But he didn’t feel close to his parents here, not like he did when he listened to Otis Redding and remembered sitting in their living room learning how to love music from his dad, or when he’d gone fishing after they died he swore he could hear his mother’s laughter in the waves lapping against the shore.

All he could think of here, in this place, was their parents' funeral. How terrified he’d been that day. It’d been cold and damp, the January weather chilled him deep in his bones. The smell of freshly dug dirt hung in the air, a smell that still filled him with grief. 

He’d been distracted through the entire graveside service; dreading the moment they’d lower their parents' bodies into the ground. He hated it. The thought of them decaying inside their caskets, the earth pressing down on his mom and dad. Every time he thought of them trapped beneath the earth it made his breath hitch and his heart race, panic filling him to the brim.

He wanted to look away, he needed to or else he might really lose what little piece of himself was keeping it together. But he knew he couldn’t. Not in front of all these people. He had to look strong, like he was a man, and a man would take it on the chin and watch as his parents were lowered into the earth not sit here and cry.

But just as the pallbearers stepped over to lower the casket, Darry put a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned him away. Soda looked up at him in shock, but Darry kept his own gaze glued forward, expression neutral. Soda glanced over at Pony, sitting on the other side of Darry. He’d bent forward and kept his gaze glued to the floor, Darry rubbing circles on his back.

It had been such a simple kindness, almost unnoticeable, but had been the exact thing Soda had needed, permission to look away and to grieve in his own way instead of keeping up appearances for all these people. It was a gesture he would have expected from their mom or dad, but never his brother. Strong, tuff Darry, the carefree football star who didn’t have time for his brothers anymore. And yet, here he was, with the weight of the world crashing down on him in that moment, staying strong for his brothers, and protecting them from the worst day of their lives.

And sitting in front of his parents' grave now, the wind whispering secrets through the trees, it hit him. All the things Darry had done for Pony and him, all the ways he’d soften the blow of losing their mom and dad. Who was left to do that for Darry? To help guide him through the moments that terrified him and help him see there was another side?

Soda stood up and brushed off his jeans, smiling down at his parents.

“Thanks, Mom and Dad, you guys always know what to say.”

Darry was back from work and shut up in his room by the time Soda made it home. Soda stared at the closed door and tried not to let nerves consume him.

He took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?”

He opened the door and for a brief moment, so brief Soda almost missed it, Darry looked like their father sitting in his bed with a book in hand after a long day of work. It was uncanny how much he resembled the older man. It left Soda staggering for a moment as he tried to figure out how to move forward.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Pepsi. You alright?”

Darry looked at him, expression gentle, eyes searching. He was waiting, ready to help Soda out with whatever was bothering him. Soda’s heart ached because he knew Darry was about to hate him, maybe not forever, but certainly for a while.

“Darry, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh no, that’s never good,” Darry said, in a tone that Soda knew was supposed to be a joke, but it fell flat.

Soda sighed and sat down on the edge of Darry’s bed. Darry put his book down. “When I went to drop off your files today, I talked to Mr. Moore.”

Darry tilted his head. “Really? That’s nice, I didn’t know you two had met before.”

“We hadn’t. He just wanted to talk to me about something.”

He searched for some sort of reaction from his brother, but there was none. “Okay? You gonna tell me what or am I supposed to guess?”

Soda sighed. “He wanted to talk to me about your case.”

He wondered if that would bring anger, but it didn’t. Darry spoke slowly, still unsure. “Yeah, well, I can imagine. I think he’s starting to try and pull it together, they just set the court date and all.”

“Yeah,” Soda said bracing himself for what came next. “He mentioned that. He also mentioned that you still haven’t told him what happened that night of the robbery.”

It wasn’t Darry’s reaction, but rather the lack of one, that told Soda that Darry didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “I’ve been busy, we just haven’t set up the date to talk about it, we will.”

Darry was good at talking himself out of situations. But Soda wasn’t going to give him the chance. “Really? Because I remember you were supposed to talk to him about it months ago when he first took on your case.”

Darry shook his head, “Musta been about something else. I’d tell him if he asked.”

Soda gave him a look. “Mr. Moore says different.”

Darry paused. His gaze narrowed. “What’d he say?”

“That he’s tried to talk to you about it over and over, but you keep pushing it off, and if you don’t tell him soon he can’t take your case. That if you don’t play this smart you’ll end up in jail anyway.”

Darry’s gaze was cold but Soda held it anyway. “And why the hell were you talking to him about me anyway?”

There it was, the first cut of frustration bleeding through. But Soda didn’t let it phase him, he just kept his cool and said, “Because he doesn’t know what else to do, Darry, and you ain’t making it easy on him. He’s hoping that maybe I can knock some sense into you.”

Darry scoffed. “I don’t believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“That my kid brother went behind my back and talked to my lawyer? Also my boss. If you got a problem you can just tell me.”

Soda fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, Darry, that’s what I did, went and talked to Mr. Moore, a man I’ve never met, because I’ve got a problem with you. Come on man, use your head. You’re the only reason I went to the office in the first place, remember?”

But Darry wasn’t listening to him anymore. His temper was bubbling up, and when that happened, all logic flew out the window for his hot-headed brother. He got up from the bed and headed to the door; Soda followed right behind him.

“You can’t run away from this Darry, you have to tell him what happened. Otherwise, you really will be stuck in jail and then Paul and his dad win. Do you want that?”

“Of course, I don’t want that,” Darry shot back, not even turning to look at Soda. He was heading towards the kitchen to do what he always did when he was uncomfortable, some sort of task. Washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, something to distract him from the thoughts he didn’t want swirling in his head. But that wouldn’t work this time. Soda wouldn’t let it.

Instead, he grabbed Darry’s arm and stopped him from heading any further into the kitchen. “Darry, will you stop for a second here? No one’s angry at you, but you can’t keep doing this. You’ve got to deal with whatever’s going on.”

“Back off Soda,” Darry said, voice low and dangerous. But Soda wouldn’t budge.

“You can’t keep going this way Darry. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you do. I mean, what’s the deal? Do you think you’re better than the rest of us?”

Darry scoffed. He tried to pull away but Soda just held on tighter. “What? Of course not.”

“Then why won’t you let us help you? I’m here begging to do anything and you’re still pushing me away.”

“It ain’t like that—”

“Then what is it Darry? You’re too proud? Too good for us? Still angry you’re just a lowly Greaser like the rest of us?”

“Will you shut up?” Darry hollered and shoved Soda away.

It wasn’t a hard push. Soda and Darry had grown up roughhousing, and Darry had certainly pushed him far harder when they were kids. Shoot, Soda hit Darry so hard once he had to get stitches. But that was before Darry was the authority of the house, before Darry had to grow up overnight and be a man who kept his temper in check instead of a boy annoyed with his younger brother.

That was before he hit Pony and three kids ended up dead.

Darry stared at Soda, eyes wide, fear written over his expression.

Soda held up his hands and said gently, “Easy Dar, I’m okay.”

But Darry shook his head, “Pepsi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I know Dar, alright? It ain’t a big deal, I’m fine.”

Darry studied him for a moment, as if searching for an injury that wasn’t there, then said, “I gotta get out of here.”

Soda tried to recenter himself within the conversation as Darry started towards the door, grabbing his keys before Soda could understand what was happening.

“What? Where the hell are you going?”

“I just gotta think, Soda, I’ll be back.”

But all Soda could think of was Pony running off in the middle of the night after Darry hit him, or all the times Soda had tried to run away from his grief, or even Darry running after their fight. All running ever did was leave them worse off than they’d been before. Darry couldn’t run, not now, not when so much was on the line.

“Come on Darry. Just stop. Talk to me about this. You can’t just run away every time a conversation gets hard. You gotta deal with this.”

Darry wouldn’t look at him as he got in his truck, but his voice was laced with anger when he said, “I’m trying, don’t you get that?”

Soda tried to reach for him again, but Darry pulled away before he got the chance.

When his gaze met Soda’s it held so much sadness it made Soda’s chest ache. “Just let me go Soda, it’ll be alright.”

But Soda shook his head. “I can’t do that, Dar.”

“Why?”

Soda gave him an easy smile and said, “Because you wouldn’t let me.”

Darry’s eyes flickered with something Soda couldn’t name, and for just a moment, Soda thought he might turn off the truck and follow him inside. Soda could see it play out. They’d sit at the kitchen table, Soda would cut them both a slice of cake, even splurge on some hot chocolate, Darry would tell him everything and the two of them would figure it out together.

But things were never that simple, not for them. Darry’s expression shut down, he threw the truck in reverse and gave Soda sad smile as he said, “Sorry, Pepsi. I'll be back.”

And with that, he was pulling out of the driveway, kicking up dust as Soda tried to figure out how he had ended up here again.

One hour turned to two. Then two to three. Then three to four. Then it was late in the night and rain had begun pattering against their roof, and still Darry wasn’t home.

Soda called Two-Bit and Steve, who in turn had called every person living on the East Side, and not a single person had seen him. In his desperation, Soda had even called Mr. Cooper, though he knew Darry would kill him if he ever found out. But no one knew where his brother was.

Darry had well and truly disappeared.

Soda and Pony had been racking their brains trying to think of where he’d run off to, but they couldn’t come up with a single idea, where did their brother go when he needed to think? Did he just get in his truck and drive around? Soda was starting to feel like he didn’t know his brother as well as he once believed.

“I just don’t get it,” Pony said, pacing the length of their living room, he hadn’t been able to sit down in hours. “He wouldn’t run off too far. He knows there’s too much on the line.”

That was true, even in his brother’s stubborn anger he’d never be stupid enough to skip town, not when he was out on bail and it could cost Soda and Pony everything.

Pony continued, “I can’t imagine him just wandering around by himself, and there’s no one else besides Two-Bit and Steve for him to talk to, where else could he be?”

And that had been the question they’d been wracking their brains with. Who would he go to? He’d gone to Two-Bit’s last time he’d run off, but he wasn’t there now. Soda felt like he’d go to an adult if he could, someone he could get advice from, but the only person Soda could think of was Mr. Cooper, and he said he hadn’t seen him.

Soda knew the person he’d really want to talk to about this was their Dad, and considering he was buried in Rose Hill Cemetery, that was out too.

Then the memory of fresh flowers sitting by their mother’s grave that very afternoon came back to him, and Soda groaned.

“What?” Pony asked.

“Damn it, I know where he is. Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

But Pony followed right behind him. “What? Where is he? How are you gonna get there? We ain’t got a car.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t that far of a walk. Call the others, tell ‘em I got a lead.”

“No way, I’m coming with you.”

“Pony—”

But his brother shook his head. “No, I need to come with you Soda, alright? He’s my big brother too.”

Soda studied him for a long time then nodded.

“Okay, but grab your coat, it’s still raining something fierce out there. And take this.” He pulled out two flashlights and handed one to Pony. Soda loved Darry, but he wasn’t about to walk through a graveyard in the pitch-black dark, he might have a heart attack before he ever found his brother.

The walk to Rose Hill Cemetery was quick, which Soda was thankful for in this weather, and when they saw the familiar bright red truck parked in front Soda nearly wept from relief.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of this earlier,” Pony said.

“Don’t think he’s ever mentioned coming here, kid. How could we know?”

They found him sitting in the same place Soda had been only a few hours earlier, back towards them. He was saying something to their parents, but whatever it was Soda couldn’t quite make it out, the conversation was drowned out in the rain. The beams of their flashlight cast sharp shadows across their parents' graves.

“Darry,” he called gently, “You alright?”

Darry startled then turned, squinting against the bright light of their flashlights.

“Soda, Pony, what are you doing here?”

“You never came home, we got worried,” Pony said.

Darry furrowed his brow, “Has it been that long.” He glanced down at his watch and winced. “Sorry guys. Time got away from me I guess.”

Soda went to sit down in the wet grass next to Darry, after a moment, Pony did the same. Their brother wiped off the water on his face, and whether it was from tears or rain, Soda couldn’t say. The three of them stared at their parents graves.

When Darry spoke his voice was quiet. “Sorry about earlier, Pepsi. I shouldn’t have shoved you like that.”

Soda nodded. “I know. Sorry for pushing so hard. I probably could have handled it better, too.”

The rain was beginning to let up. Soda wondered if Darry would catch a cold from sitting out here for so long in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

“I came out here to see them today, you know,” Soda said.

Darry pulled his eyes away from the graves to look at him. “Really?”

Soda nodded. “First time I’ve been here since the funeral. I think I’ve been scared to come, but it wasn’t too bad.”

Darry nodded. “I try to come at least once a week and talk to them, bring mom some flowers, she always loved peonies. When Dad and her were dating, he used to buy her a bouquet every week.”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Pony said.

Darry smiled. “Yeah, she always teased him for stopping after they got married. But I know they didn’t have the money once I came along. Figured she deserves them now, you know.”

Soda nodded. “That’s real nice, Dar. She’d like that. You know how sentimental she was.”

They were quiet for a long time, then Darry continued.

“I talk to them a lot. Tell them what’s happening, what’s going on with you two, how work’s treating me.” He got quiet for a minute, and wiped at his eyes again, said, “I haven’t told them about being jumped or nothing, guess I didn’t know where to start.”

Pony leaned his head on his brother’s shoulder. “It might help. I was a real mess before I started writing about everything with Johnny and Dally. It didn’t fix anything, really, but I think it helped me come to terms with it.”

Darry tried for a laugh, but the sound didn’t come out quite right. “I ain’t a writer like you kid, I don’t think I could find the words.”

Soda squeezed his arm. “But you do need to talk about it with someone, Dar. You can’t keep running away from it. This whole thing, it’s been killing you since that night, and we all know you ain’t the same.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being stupid—”

“Hey quit that, Dar. You don’t let me talk about myself like that so you can’t either.”

Darry’s brow pulled in frustration. “But I am. I shouldn’t be bothering you boys with all this. I should be able to talk to Mr. Moore about it, or testify about it in court, or do whatever it takes to stay out of jail and keep us together. But I don’t know what happens to me. It’s like whenever I go to say something I just freeze up.”

Darry paused for a moment, running a hand along his neck. It was a movement Soda hadn’t seen him do in a while, but he could remember the bruises that had been there like it was yesterday. “It’s not like it was that bad, I mean I didn’t even have to go to the hospital or nothing.”

Soda didn’t think it was so much that Darry didn’t have to go to the hospital as it was Darry refused to go to the hospital, but he figured now wasn’t the the time to have that argument.

Darry continued. “But some of those guys were my best friends in high school. We used to do everything together. I went over to William’s house, Paul went camping with us. I mean, we spent practically every weekend together. And when I remember that these people I thought of as my friends beat me up in the parking lot, or even Paul robbing the restaurant, I just feel like such an idiot. What did I do to make them turn on me like that? Live on the wrong side of town? Turn down the chance to play at Oklahoma? Why was I naive enough to think any of them would be friends with a Greaser like me in the first place? I mean, I should have known. They weren’t there when I needed them after Mom and Dad died. Why am I shocked that they came back just to beat the hell out of me when life is finally starting to look up?”

There was anger bleeding into his voice, tinged with heartache. Soda put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. His brother could only see all the ways he failed and Soda needed to remind him there was so much more to him than that.

“Dar, I’m gonna tell you something you ain’t gonna want to hear, but you need to hear it anyway. And you gotta listen to me good, alright? Because I have a reason for saying it.” When Darry nodded, Soda took a breath and continued. “You’ve saved me and Pony in ways I don’t even think you realize. I mean the only reason the three of us are sitting here right now is because of you.”

Darry shook his head and tried to pull away, but Soda held on tighter. “It ain’t all that Pepsi.”

Soda nodded. “Yes, it is, Darry. Ever since Mom and Dad died, you’ve been keeping me and Pony sane. You helped me when I was losing my mind at school, you sat with Pony practically every second he was sick after Johnny and Dally died. Shoot, Dar, you kept us out of a boys home. But you know the biggest thing you did? You kept us from ever feeling the full weight of losing our parents because you softened the blow in every way you could.

“But no one’s done that for you Darry. And I’m sorry it took you getting jumped and arrested for me to remember you’re just a kid, too. Still the same dumb older brother I grew up with who reads way too many books and had questionable taste in music. And you need to have someone worry about you, too. Because this? It’s too much for you to carry on your own, Dar. I know we call you Superman, but golly, even he’s got kryptonite, I mean, that’s like a whole thing.”

He turned so he was looking at Darry now, and in the yellow light cast from his flashlight, he could just make out the tears threatening to fall.

Soda continued. “And I need you to believe me when I tell you this, okay? Whatever happened that night, we aren’t going to think less of you, or judge you, or whatever else you’ve been building up in your head. None of this has been your fault, not getting jumped, not the robbery, not getting arrested afterward. None of it. But you’ve been beating yourself up about it ever sense, and it’s killing you, Dar. You’re worried about what’s going to happen if you get convicted? I’m worried about what’s going to happen if you don’t find a way to deal with this.”

“But more than that, Dar, those guys were wrong. And that’s on them, not you. I don’t know what mental hoops they had to jump through to justify calling you out there that night, but every last one of them was wrong for doing that to a friend. They were wrong for jumping you in that parking lot. Paul was wrong for robbing The Brewclub and pinning it on you. Them, not you, do you understand?”

Darry nodded, Soda didn’t think he could find the words to speak, but that was okay, Soda wasn’t quite done yet.

“So if you wanna talk to me and Pony, you know we’re here for you, alright? We’ll help you carry the load in every way we can. But if that won’t help, we can find someone else. You can talk to Two-Bit, or Mr. Moore, or hell, Mrs. Miller’s been trying to get us to talk to one of them fancy therapist since Mom and Dad died, I’m sure she’d be willing to help out. But something’s gotta give, Darry. I’m scared you’re not going to be able to move past this otherwise.”

Darry sat there for a long time, taking in everything Soda said. He had turned back towards their parents' graves, and when he finally looked over there was something tender in his expression. “It’s stupid—” he started, but didn’t seem to know how to finish.

“Whatever it is Dar, I promise stupid ain’t in the equation. Not if it helps you.”

Darry’s breath hitched as he said, “It’s just— I know it sounds crazy, but I think I need to tell Dad. That’s who— If he were alive, he’s who I would have talked to.”

Soda shared a glance with Pony, whose own expression was broken. Soda pulled his gaze back to Darry and nodded. “Alright, Dar. You want us to go? We can wait for you by the truck.”

But Darry shook his head. “No, you can stay. I think I need you boys here, too.”

The words touched Soda in a way he hadn’t expected them to, and he smiled at his older brother, his first real smile in days. 

“That’s good, we never talk as a family anymore. Don’t tell them I said anything, but Mom and Dad are about as fun to talk to as a pile of dirt lately.”

Darry let out a surprised laugh, while Pony groaned at the cheesy joke, and the tension that had colored every conversation the three of them had lately finally broke.

Soda settled himself on the grass and Pony did the same. The rain finally stopped, but Soda took off his jacket and threw it over Darry anyway.

“Whatever you need, Dar, we got you, alright?” Pony said.

Darry nodded. Soda watched as he tried to stitch himself back together. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked at the graves in front of them.

“Hey Dad, sorry I’ve been keeping this from you, I just didn’t know how to start. But I got Pony and Soda here with me, and I think I can tell you with them here backing me up. You always said we’re better as a team right?”

Soda gave his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. He could feel his brother take a deep breath, and then said, “You remember William, right?”

Chapter Text

“You think these shoes are okay?”

Darry knew he sounded like an idiot, and the smirk Soda gave him meant his brother was inclined to agree, but Darry couldn’t help it. He was nervous. He hadn’t felt this sort of shaky breath panic since Pony’s trial after Bob died. And how stupid was that? The trial to determine his brother’s innocence was a far bigger deal than drinks with his high school buddies, and in his head, he knew that. But apparently, someone forgot to mention this little tidbit to his nerves.

Because even though he knew it was stupid and irrational there was something about seeing these guys for the first time in over a year, boys who had everything he’d ever wanted within their grasp, boys that he might still be hanging around with if life had treated him a little different, that made him want to run to the bathroom and throw up.

But even more than that, there was a part of him, a small part that he tried to ignore, that couldn’t help but wonder. If he could make it through this dinner and feel like he used to before he became responsible for two teenagers and a job he despised, maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get his old life back one day. Maybe he could hold onto his dreams, maybe they could keep him going.

So after ironing the dress shirt Soda had convinced him to buy (five dollars he had to pay for it! That was half his grocery bill) he pulled his dad’s shoes out of his closet. He ran his hand over the worn leather, cracked along the edges. His father had these shoes as long as Darry could remember. When he looked at the sole, he could still make out the place he’d signed his name as a kid after he’d learned his letters. His mom told him that his dad was going to be furious when he found out, but he’d just laughed and said, “Now I have a little piece of you with me every time I gotta go to some important meeting, how could I be mad about that?”

Darry held the shoes close to his chest and whispered, “It’s your turn, Dad. I really need you to get me through this.”

 But all the nerves in the world didn’t shut off that part of his brain that worried about his kid brothers. So as he gathered up the last few things he needed in the kitchen he hollered, “I gave you two the number to the restaurant, right?”

Pony scoffed and said, “We’re not twelve, Dar. We’ve been by ourselves in the house before.”

“Right, ‘cause I forgot that you’re all grown at your big age of fourteen,” Darry snapped, only to immediately wish he could pull the words back. He’d been trying to be more civil with his brother, and he’d been doing better most days. But he was on edge that night, just one wrong look would have sent him into a tailspin, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle Pony’s attitude.

But Soda, level headed as always, stepped between the two brothers and said, “Quit worrying, Mom. Besides, you’re the one heading out, I should be giving you the speech. How does it go?” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, and did what was, in Darry’s opinion, a pretty poor impression of him. “You be back by midnight. And you call if you’re gonna be even a second late, you hear? I don’t get enough sleep as is, I don’t need you two knuckleheads keeping me up worrying all hours of the night.”

Darry smiled and swatted him away. “Okay, okay, I get the hint, I’m gone. Try not to lose all your money to Two-Bit at poker, you know that kid’s luckier than a rabbit’s foot.”

And with that, Darry was out the door.

The parking lot of The Brewclub wasn’t too full, but Darry parked around back anyway. He’d learned a long time ago when and where he needed to soften his Greaser edges, and The Brewclub was that kind of place. It was a cozy little log cabin just on the outskirts of town, nestled up against miles and miles of woods. Socs loved it because it felt like a place you’d find on vacation in the mountains, not something in Tulsa. And as Darry drove in, he was inclined to agree.

That was until he stepped in the door and was met with a sea of frowns and scowls and Darry remembered; it may not look like it belonged in Tulsa, but that didn’t mean the rules of Greasers and Socs flew out the window. Their eyes followed him as he went up to the bar and ordered a beer. He knew that every one of them wondered what some East Side trash was doing there. The restaurant was nice, way nicer than the places Darry usually went, and certainly not meant for his crowd. He looked the part, he knew, but it’d been so long since he’d stepped into this role, since he’d pretended to be someone who belonged in those sorts of places, he wasn’t sure if he remembered how. But he kept his gaze trained forward. When his friends came that, at least, would help.

But something worse happened. They never showed up. Darry waited, long past the point he thought any one of his old gang would walk through the door. People in the restaurant came and went, and still, Darry sat at the bar, nursing one drink, then two, then, when he realized he was stood up like some girl on prom night, ordered two shots he couldn’t afford.

Because what the hell was that? They set up a dinner with him just to bail? Darry scanned the room for what felt like the millionth time. Eyes were still on him, he could see the patrons lean over and whisper about him to one another. Every single person knew he didn’t belong, so why was he there?

Darry ordered one more drink.

Despite knowing no one was showing up, Darry stayed until the restaurant closed at eleven. The only thing worse than being stood up was going home to the rest of the gang and having to admit what happened. At least this way he could pretend he had a good time. He wouldn’t even have to lie about drinking at the bar all night, just leave out some of the details of who with.

The restaurant was empty by the time he left. The parking lot like a ghost town. It was then he realized just how isolated The Brewclub really was. Not even a sound from the cars passing on the highway. The trees were still, the birds silent. An eerie sensation crept into Darry. He shivered despite the sticky summer air that clung to his skin and the alcohol that warmed his stomach.

He turned the corner of the building and made his way towards the back parking lot. His red truck just managed to catch the light of the lone street lamp and looked to Darry so bright it was ablaze, light reflecting off of it and glittering on the asphalt below. It had a strange, almost mutilated quality under the sharp shadows. The truck before him so different from the image of it he had in his head. 

Maybe it was because of the alcohol, maybe it was because of the strange, yellow light of the street lamp, or maybe it was because it was simply so unexpected, but Darry didn’t realize how utterly destroyed his truck was until he was practically on top of it.

He froze, body numb as he tried to figure out what exactly he was seeing. The tires slashed and the windows smashed in, glass littered the parking lot and crunched under his feet as he stepped closer.

“What the hell—”

Something slammed hard into the back of the head and sent him sprawling on the asphalt below, scraping his palms and bruising his knees.

Then there were hands on him, he couldn’t see where from, the night was dark and his mind still hazy from the alcohol. He couldn’t tell how many there were. Five? Six? It felt like dozens of hands were pressing into his skin, pulling and clawing at him as they tried to get him down. He didn’t carry a switchblade, no one would ever dare to jump Superman, but now he wished he did. He tried to scream out but someone covered his mouth.

They managed to get a hold of him and started dragging him. It took him a moment to realize what they were doing, getting him away from the parking lot and into the long stretch of woods. Darry’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t let them take him there. He knew it’d be so much worse if they got him away from the bar and whatever chance he had of getting help. The woods for them were safe, offered them the protection to do whatever the hell they wanted to. They could beat him within an inch of his life and no one would know.

They could do so much worse.

He struggled harder and managed to throw a few punches, he heard someone cry out when one landed and the grip loosened. Not much, but enough.

He pulled away and sprinted towards the restaurant. Maybe someone was there, maybe the bartender hadn’t left yet, maybe he could get inside and call the police. Maybe—

Someone tackled him to the ground, it knocked the wind out of him and he struggled to pull in another breath. They turned him over and punched him hard, sending stars shooting across his vision.

“Ain’t getting away that easy, Grease.”

The hands were on him again. Hands he hated. He didn’t like being touched much anyway, now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to feel another person's hands on his skin again.

He struggled against them, but he couldn’t keep his focus. He could feel the second the concrete beneath him turned into the soft padding of dirt and dead leaves, and Darry knew he’d lost, they’d gotten him into the woods.

In his struggle, he managed to catch the face of one of his attackers. His heart stopped, he knew that face. He’d seen it practically every day of his life for seven years.

“William?”

The other boy’s eyes widened, and he let go of Darry like he’d been burned. Darry tried to get away again, but someone socked him hard across the jaw. 

“William, what the hell? You better keep it together.” He recognized that voice too, it was Mark.

Darry managed a quick glance around and realized he was being jumped by the guys he’d been planning to meet. Shame burned through him as he realized what was happening. They hadn’t stood him up. They’d been waiting for him this entire time, just for this. Just to beat the hell out of him. And for what?

Mark smiled and said, “Come on boys, let’s have a little fun.”

“I don’t know guys, this feels wrong,” William said.

“Keep that up Moore, and you’re next.”

Darry tried to sit up, but someone shoved his face down into the ground, he could taste the dirt and leaves beneath him. He heard the telltale click of a switchblade and managed to get enough energy to struggle again.

“Come on guys, please. I have two brothers. What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything.”

But the only answer was the sting of the blade cutting his skin. He screamed out, and someone put their hand over his mouth to muffle him again.

He hurt, everywhere. He no longer knew what he was saying. He was begging, he thought, he knew he screamed. Perhaps he even called for his dad. But he couldn’t help it, he was scared, he didn’t want to die at the hands of people he once called friends. He didn’t want to die at all.

“That’s enough, let’s see what he’s got now.”

He didn’t know why but someone got him standing up on his own two feet. The faces around him morphed and shifted into something grotesque under the sharp light of the full moon, the round soft faces of their youth twisted into something more sinister. Their smiles with sharp teeth and eyes that glinted with bloodlust would haunt Darry’s dreams for years to come; he’d see them every time he closed his eyes.

It was stupid, but he tried to make a run for it anyway. He managed a shaky, stumbly, hitch-stepped run. The other boys even let him make it far enough that in his panic fueled daze he thought he might have a chance of getting away, but all too quickly someone tripped him up and sent him crashing down on his hands and knees. Their laughter ricocheted through the trees.

He could hear someone’s footsteps come up to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He was too busy trying to steady his breathing.

“Hey there Grease, can’t believe you actually had time in your busy schedule to come hang.”

Darry’s heart stopped. He knew that voice. It reminded him of summer rain and an autumn breeze. Took him back to the crisp fall air of Friday night football and the soft tang of a Coca-Cola after a game. A voice that was scattered across his fondest memories of youth, and yet littered some of his darkest days with cruel words and foolish fights.

He pulled his head up to see Paul, his gaze cutting through Darry like a razor blade; a bitter smile twisted across his mouth. Darry didn’t know how he’d missed him before. He had to have been here the whole time, right? 

“What are you doing here?” Darry asked. He hated the way his voice shook; he wished he could stop the fear coursing through him.

“Thought it might be fun to have a little rematch Grease. Seeing as how you’re so tuff now.” Paul looked so much worse than the last time Darry saw him. Eyes bruised purple and cheeks hollow. There was something desperate in his expression that made ice course through Darry’s veins.  

Darry shook his head, the motion sent a wave of nausea crashing through him. “I don’t want to fight you, Paul.” Even if his body didn’t ache, even if he wasn’t beat to hell. It was true; he didn’t want to fight Paul. Not when there was something so broken in his gaze. What he did want to do was stop and pull him to the side and ask him what happened. Why was he there? What about his scholarship? Was he okay?

But he couldn’t. He didn’t have that right anymore. All it would do is make Paul angrier than he already was.

“Get up Greaser. Come on, fight me.”

“Paul—“

“Get up!”

They poked and prodded at him until he relented, and he forced his aching body back up onto his feet.

“Ain’t so tuff without all your little Greaser friends, are ya?” Paul sneered as he circled around him.

Darry didn’t know why in that moment he felt so reckless. Maybe there was a part of him that couldn’t believe his friend could be so cruel. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking straight. But despite himself, he felt a smile pull at his lips and heard himself say, “Did you forget my name somewhere along the way? Or are you too scared of what might happen if you call me something besides ’Grease’?”

And that did it. Paul was on Darry in a second. Neither Paul nor Darry was stupid, they both knew that any other day, Darry would have kicked Paul’s ass. He’d never lost a fight with Paul before, not when they fought fair, and certainly not now that he spent his day roofing and Paul was just an ex-football star.

But in his condition, it was a miracle Darry stayed up at all. All it took was one well placed punch across his nose and he was tumbling to the ground. Paul a flurry of fist above him.

Each punch sent a memory flashing through Darry’s mind. Meeting Paul on the football field. The two of them sitting at his his kitchen table studying for algebra tests. The camping trip Paul came on where they stayed up late reading comics and eating S’mores. Feeling the warmth of his first beer after winning a game their freshman year.

Paul picked up his shoulders and slammed him into the ground. It pulled Darry from his daze and brought the full force of his pain back to the front of his mind.

“Come on Grease, ain’t ya gonna a fight back?” Paul said, voice holding something desperate in it, something so close to breaking.

Darry swallowed and tried to get his tongue to move, it felt thick and heavy in his mouth.

“I can’t, Paul.”

Something in Paul’s expression snapped. He grabbed Darry’s neck and pushed him harder into the ground, rocks and sticks pressed into his back. Darry reached for Paul’s hands desperate to get him to stop but it was no use.

He could feel the pressure wrapping tighter and tighter, bruises forming beneath Paul’s fingertips. He wanted to beg his friend to stop, promise he’d do anything he wanted. But he couldn’t pull the air in to speak. His vision started blacking out.

Darry knew then he was going to die there.

Distantly he heard someone’s voice, it might have been William’s, shouting, “Stop it man, you’re killing him!”

“What’s it matter, he’s a Grease, ain’t he? There’s a dozen to take his place,” Paul said, Darry could hear the tears in his voice, could feel their warmth as they dripped on his cheek.

“Paul, stop!”

Then suddenly, the pressure was off his neck, and air came rushing back to Darry. He coughed, struggling to fill his lungs again.

The world kept shifting in and out of focus.

Blink.

“Shit, he’s really bad off, do we do anything?”

Blink.

“What are we gonna do take him to the hospital? He’ll just squeal.”

Blink.

“So you wanna just leave him here to die? It’s Darry, guys. I sure as hell don’t wanna kill him.”

Blink.

“You better get your shit together, William. You’re just as guilty as the rest of us.”

Blink.

“Let’s take him back to the parking lot, at least someone might notice his body before—”

Darry felt as they dragged him to the edge of the parking lot, head jostling against the dirt and rocks below.

Finally, they stopped moving, and Darry thought he would weep from relief. Pain consumed every part of him. But he knew he didn’t have much more of a chance here than he had in the woods. Not if they were leaving him alone. He managed to pull his focus and pry his eyes open. He was met with William’s worried gaze staring down at him. “William,” he managed, voice cracking. “Please, my brothers—”

William looked like he was seconds from breaking. He opened his mouth to say something, but then, someone kicked Darry in the side of the head, and everything went black.

Darry was nineteen yesterday. Today he turned twenty.

The week before he got a letter in the mail that The University of Oklahoma was offering him a full ride to play football for them in the fall. It’d been the best birthday gift he could have asked for. 

His parents were over the moon. They’d been making a big deal of celebrating him ever since.

“Now what kind of cake do you want?” His mom asked one night at dinner.

“Golly mom, I ain’t a little kid. I don’t need a cake.”

“You hush. You’ve got a lot to celebrate young man. And I’m not talking just about the scholarship, but it’s your birthday, too. And not just any birthday, but the last one I get to have with my son living in this house, so you better believe I’m cooking him a cake. I gotta get all the celebrating I can before you go off to Oklahoma.”

Her eyes misted over, and Darry gave an awkward laugh and said, “Mom, don’t cry, I’m only going to be a couple of hours away.”

She waved him off. “I know, I just can’t believe it. You’ve worked so hard and accomplished so much and it’s all finally happening. I’m so excited to see where this takes you.”

Darry was too. It was all he and Paul could talk about. They’d spent practically every free moment they had picking out apartments and planning classes they’d take in the fall. The future they’d spent so long dreaming of was finally upon them, and it consumed their every thought.

He tried to play it cool in front of his family though. He shrugged and said, “It’s just football, Mom. It ain’t all that.”

But his mom could see right through him in a way that only a mother could. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Darry met her warm gaze and allowed her love to wash over him.

“Just know I’m proud of you always, you understand, love?”

Darry smiled. “Yes ma’am.”

In the end, he asked her to make him a spice cake, his favorite since he was a kid. Soda and Pony both hated them, Soda said they tasted how their grandma’s house smelled. But they always reminded Darry of spending a cold winter day tucked up on the couch with a blanket and hot chocolate watching the Super Bowl with his dad. Besides, it was his birthday, why’d he want his brothers eating his cake anyway?

She was supposed to make a cream cheese frosting, too, but Pony forgot to pick up the ingredients when he ran to the grocery store.

She frowned as she put the cake in the oven and said, “I won’t have time until your birthday to finish it, Darry.”

“Don’t worry about it Mom, I don’t mind.”

“I just feel bad—”

“I promise it ain’t a big deal. You want me to run to town and get it for you?”

She waved him off. “No, no, it’s your birthday cake, you aren’t allowed to help. I’ll run and get it after work tomorrow, just wish I could finish it up tonight so it was ready.”

Since it was Darry’s birthday his dad let him use the truck for the day while he carpooled with their mom. It was a Friday, Darry didn’t have any classes, and Mr. Cooper let him have the day off. So he ran around town with Paul and the rest of their friends and raised a little hell. Fresh snow had fallen the night before, and everything was nestled in a blanket of white. Darry took a breath and let the cold winter air burn his lungs. He’d never felt more alive.

When he looked back on his birthday he wondered what could have changed if he’d spent that day differently. What if he’d sucked it up and gone to work and he and his dad had driven together like they always did. His mom would have been able to go straight to the grocery store to pick up what she needed, and she would have missed the train. Or if he’d insisted on picking it up for her. He would have gone earlier in the day, and when his mom picked his dad up from work they would have taken a different street on their way home and they would have missed the train. 

Or if he’d insisted on spending the day with them instead like he’d wished he’d done every day since. They could have gone up to the same lake he’d been going to his whole life, even before Soda and Pony were born. And they could have fished, just the three of them, Pony and Soda still tucked away and safe in school. And he could have laughed with them that day, at how horrible his dad was at fishing, at how the fish just bit at his mother’s line because they liked it when she sang. And the day could have been filled with peanut butter sandwiches, and sunlight glittering off the lake, and so much laughter it made Darry’s stomach ache.

And on the drive back home they’d come down a different street and the three of them would miss the train.

Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they’d be in the exact same place at the exact same time, and the same barrier would be out, and the very same train would barrel into his mom’s car.

But this time, at least Darry would be with them, and he would never have to learn how to live with the grief that had crawled beneath his ribs and made a home in his heart after they died.

But none of that happened that day. Instead, Darry came home to a house that smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon. His cake sat in the window sill waiting to be finished. It’d sit there for another week before Darry would toss the whole thing in the trash only to throw up moments after. Darry lounged in his dad’s recliner because it was his birthday, and his dad couldn’t put up much of a fuss.

He read Catch-22 as Pony and Soda fought over the TV channel, then there was a knock at the door.

Darry answered it to find two officers standing on the other side.

“Can I help you?”

The two men glanced at each other, then back at him.

The older of the two had a sharp gaze that seemed to cut Darry in two. Darry didn’t know what was about to happen. But when the old man cleared his throat there was a gentleness to his tone as he said, “Is there an adult around by chance?”

Darry pulled himself up to his full height and said, “I just turned twenty today, sir.”

The officer winced, then nodded. Something clattered behind Darry, and he saw the man’s gaze shift to see what was behind the door.

“Sorry sir, my kid brothers. Hooligans, the lot of them.”

When he pulled his gaze back, there was a sadness there that washed over Darry. He wanted to run away and hide. Because whatever these men were about to tell him couldn’t be good. But he was twenty. He was a man. Whatever they had to say, he’d take it on the chin like his father had taught him. He’d stay calm, then he’d tell his parents when they got home, whatever it was, they’d know what to do.

The officer nodded and said, “Right, well, you mind stepping outside for a moment? Might be best if we talk about this alone.”

They told him. The words weren’t harsh, but they were matter of fact. To the point. These were men who had told families their loved ones had died a thousand times over. And they’d do it again a thousand times more.

There was a roaring in Darry’s ears as he nodded along. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. He didn’t understand what they were telling him. He didn’t feel anything.

A train. They said. The barrier was out. Nobody’s fault.

Instantaneous. Didn’t feel a thing.

How would you know they didn’t feel anything? Darry wondered. You certainly couldn’t ask them.

The strange emptiness continued long after the cops left. Eventually, he managed to step inside. The TV was blaring, Soda and Pony consumed by an episode of Gilligan’s Island. He’d forgotten about them. Forgotten he had to worry about someone else’s grief.

It was in this moment he realized what he’d just told the cops. He was twenty.

He was the only adult here.

He was the only adult left.

He was the only one left for his brothers.

He told them what happened before the panic could consume him. Pony yelled at him and called him a liar. Soda ran to the bathroom to throw up.

Darry kept it together, because what other choice did he have?

Eventually, late into the night, his brothers fell asleep. Cheeks tear stained and throats raw from crying.

Darry sat alone in his dad’s recliner. The smell of nutmeg and cinnamon still clung in the air.

He couldn’t do it. Darry had to get out of there. Just for a moment, just so he could understand what was happening. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to leave the house again. 

There was only one person he could think of to talk to. Someone he didn’t have to hold it together in front of or pretend to be Superman.

He needed to talk to Paul.

He couldn’t bear the thought of driving, not when he thought of the twisted metal wrapping around his parents. So instead he walked. He let his feet guide him as all the thoughts he’d pushed away started tumbling back. What was he going to do? How would he keep his brothers from the state? Would Mr. Cooper hire him full-time? How the hell did his parents afford everything?

Then suddenly he was there, Paul’s house looming in front of him, Chief Holden’s police car parked out front glinting in the moonlight.

He went around to Paul’s window at the back of the house and started banging on it, when his friend didn’t come, Darry banged louder and louder, until he thought the window might shatter. But he didn’t care, he needed his friend.

Suddenly, it flew open and Darry stumbled. Paul stared at him bleary eyed. He had been asleep. Darry had no clue what time it was.

“What the hell are you doing? It’s three in the morning. Your dad’s gonna kill you for sneaking out.”

And that was all it took. Darry was breaking down in a way he never had before, sobs wracking his body. Paul must have climbed out the window, because he felt something soft draped over his shoulders, and was guided away somewhere. It was nice to let someone else take the lead, Darry was tired of making decisions already. 

He blinked and they were in Paul's car. He blinked again and they were in that same lot they’d gone to when they were kids. They were surrounded by the kind of silence that you could only find in the middle of the night.

“What happened Dar?”

“My parents are dead.” It was the first time he said it out loud like that. He’d soften the words for Soda and Pony, he didn’t have to with Paul.

“What? How?”

“A car wreck. They got hit by a train. And it’s all my fault.”

Paul shook his head. “What are you on about?”

So Darry sat in Paul’s truck, the words pouring out of him like he was at a confessional. About his birthday cake his mom was out shopping for, about borrowing his dad’s truck and forcing the two of them to carpool, about how selfish he’d been that day and how it cost them their lives.

He was out of breath when he finished, chest heaving and eyes wet. And for a long time, he and Paul sat in silence. He waited for his friend to condemn him.

When Paul finally spoke, his words were measured. “The way I see it, you’re thinking about this whole thing the wrong way.”

Darry sniffed, then blinked at him, “What’d ya mean?”

“Well, Pony was supposed to pick up the frosting stuff, right?”

“Yeah.”

Paul shrugged. “Then clearly it’s the kid’s fault. Should have paid more attention.”

Rage consumed Darry so fast it made him dizzy. “What the hell, Paul? This ain’t his fault. Where do you get off saying something like that?”

Paul blinked at him, wide eyed. “What? I mean, None of this would have happened if he’d gotten the right stuff in the first place.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose. Things like this just happen. Probably would have happened even if he did get the frosting.”

“So you’re saying I’m being ridiculous?”

“Yes.”

“And sitting here blaming yourself is different how?”

Darry went to respond but found he couldn’t. Paul was right, and he knew it, but he couldn’t quite get himself to believe his friend. 

He sunk down further in his seat instead.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Paul nodded. “I know man. When my mom left— well, it was hard.”

Paul hadn’t spoken about his mom since that night in the lot. Despite everything, Darry found himself asking, “Did you ever look for her?”

Paul shrugged, looking away. “I tried once. Something bad happened that night between her and my dad. Sometimes I’m scared to find out, you know? I’m afraid of what I’ll find. I don’t know what that’d do to me.”

“You mean like if she started another family or something?”

Paul glanced over at him, “Yeah, something like that.” But there was something in his tone, something that if Darry had been in a better frame of mind he might have pushed his friend into talking about. But he could hardly breathe with the weight of his own grief pressing down on him.

Paul didn’t give him a chance to dwell on it anyway, instead he reached over and placed a hand on his friends shoulder and said, “You’ll make it Darry, alright? You’re a tough guy, and it’ll hurt for a while, but it gets better.”

But Darry wasn’t so sure. He felt strange. His whole body ached like one giant bruise, his throat hurt every time he tried to pull in a breath. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he was the one who had been hit by a train.

“How do you know that?” He said, but it came out funny. His voice was cracked and hoarse, sound hardly able to pass through.

But Paul didn’t seem to notice. Just smiled and said, “You got me to back you up, remember?”

Darry smiled back at him, but even that sent a spasm of pain ricocheting through his head. “Yeah, I reckon I’m stuck with you.”

“One more thing Darry.”

“Hmm?”

“You gotta wake up.”

Darry blinked, turning towards him, but the motion made him so dizzy he thought he might throw up.

“Wha—”

“Let’s go Grease, up and at ‘em.”

“Grease? Paul, what are you—”

“Come on Grease, wakey wakey!”

Paul reached over and slapped his face, and Darry’s eyes flew open. He tried to orient himself. He’d just been in the lot, his parents were dead. Why did he hurt so bad? Why was he lying on the asphalt? 

Something was wrong, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Then he pulled in a breath, and pain exploded in his chest.

And then remembered.

Paul was kneeling over him. Darry tried to push away, but couldn’t get his body to cooperate.

“Stop, Paul, you can’t do this,” Darry’s voice was ragged and raw; normally he would hate the fear bleeding through.

But he had brothers to think about, their lives. He was all they had left. The only line of defense to make sure they could make it, if he died now there’d be no one there to protect him.

And he didn’t want to die.

He tried to push Paul away, and something Darry couldn’t name flashed in his friend’s eye only to harden a second later. Paul slapped him hard and pulled him close. “I need your help. You do this for me and you’ll be fine, understand?”

Darry nodded, because what else could he do? Paul pulled him up off the ground. He could hardly see straight, he stumbled through the parking lot a few steps behind Paul, who carried a bat in his hand that frightened Darry down to his core. Darry lost a shoe somewhere along the way. It was his dad’s shoe. The one he’d signed as a kid. Distantly, he wondered if Paul would stop and help him look for it.

Darry must have been knocked out longer than he realized because the moon hung high in the sky. He wondered what Soda and Pony were doing right now, if they were worried about him.

Paul dragged him all the way to The Brewclub. They stood on the front porch, and Darry could just make out the glass windows under the light of the moon.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand.”

“I don’t—”

But Paul didn’t have the patience. He reached over and grabbed Darry’s hand, turning his palm towards the sky. Darry could see the scar from their blood oath when they were kids, a thin white line. He wondered what scars he’d be left with now.

But then the scar was covered with a rock Paul put in his hand and wrapped Darry’s fingers around.

“Throw it.”

“Huh?”

“Come on Darry, you’re not that dumb, throw it, bust one of the windows, we always hated Mr. Smith.”

“What? I’m not breaking into The Brewclub.”

Darry’s head felt fuzzy, he wasn’t sure he could even follow Paul’s line of reasoning.

But then Paul pulled him close, hands on his collar, his fingers brushed against Darry’s neck and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He tried to pull away, but Pauls grip only tightened.

“If you don’t do this Darry I swear I’ll kill you. Do you understand? What’ll happen to Soda and Pony then, huh?”

Darry swallowed, and Paul shoved him away. “Come on quarterback! Show me that arm!”

Darry’s breath hitched and he threw the rock. It soared through the window and glass shattered around them.

Paul laughed, a manic, frightening sound. “Come on Grease! You gotta do better than that.”

Then Paul lifted up the bat and Darry flinched back, but instead of getting closer to Darry, he proceeded to bash every window on the building.

Darry blinked, unable to understand what was happening. He had to get away, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t run, there was nowhere for him to go.

“Paul, what are you doing?”

He busted the window on the door and turned towards him. His eyes held that same desperate look they had the day they’d made their blood oath, the day his mom left him.

Paul smiled and said, “Reach in and unlock it.”

“Why can’t you?”

Paul laughed. “Darry, you always asked too many questions, man. That was the thing that used to drive me nuts. Just do it.”

He shoved Darry hard towards the door and he just barely managed to catch himself. He didn’t have a choice, hand shaking, he reached through the shards of glass, tearing at his skin, but he no longer cared. He felt for the deadbolt on the other side and finally clicked it open.

Paul came behind him and gave him a smile. “Look at us, Grease. Breaking and entering. Maybe being friends with some East Side trash really did rub off on me, huh?”

He opened the door and pulled Darry inside, who collapsed at the nearest table. His head was spinning and he could hardly see straight, but he managed to watch as Paul ransacked the place. He took the bat and destroyed tables, broke chairs. He threw them against the wall, he smashed every picture hanging up. He smashed liquor bottles and plates, snapped silverware and threw food on the floor. When the cash register wouldn’t open, he hit it over and over again, until it gave out a pitiful ding and the drawer lamely popped open.

All the while Darry sat in silence. Terrified of what was happening to his former best friend. He wasn’t like this before, was he? What had changed in his life that made him so angry?

Like he could read Darry’s mind, Paul looked over at him for the first time. There was a desperation in his gaze that Darry tried not to flinch away from.

Darry swallowed, tried to find some small scrape of courage, and said, “What happened Paul, why are you doing this?”

Paul gave him a considering look, then came over and sat at the table across from Darry. It was the only one left in the place that he hadn’t smashed to pieces. 

“What would you do, Darry, if you found out someone you trusted destroyed your life, did the worst thing imaginable, and let you carry on for years not knowing?”

“I don’t understand.”

“No one does,” Paul shook his head, then turned back to Darry. “Okay, let’s say someone killed one of your brothers, what would you do?”

But Darry couldn’t keep up with the conversation. Not with the foggy haze that clouded his every thought. “I don’t— I mean my parents died.”

“No,” Paul shook his head. “That’s an accident, I’m talking killed them, murdered in cold blood, how would you feel when you found out? Do you think you could recover from that, you think you could go back to your life? Or do you think you’d spend every day for the rest of your life waiting for the moment you could get revenge?”

Darry didn’t know what to say, his head was spinning, he could hardly keep two thoughts together, and he couldn’t keep his mind clear enough to follow Paul’s train of thought.

But something had happened, something that Darry, in his current state, couldn’t begin to untangle. So instead with all the gentleness he could muster, said, “Paul, what happened, man? Talk to me. Let me help you.”

And for a moment, he thought Paul would tell him everything. He could let go, and they could go back to the way things were when they were kids when it was them against the world and they felt invincible.

But then a piece of glass fell off the wall and shattered on the ground, and the sound of it broke them from whatever stupor they were in. Paul shook his head and his expression shut down. “It’s too late. You’ll help me in other ways.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Paul pushed away from the table and made his way to the back offices. Darry stood up, vision darkening for a moment, and stumbled along behind him. There was a way out of this, there had to be.

Just as he reached the bar Paul came out, gun in hand, and Darry’s blood ran cold.

“Paul, put that back, what are you doing?”

Paul looked at him, really looked at him, and there was a flash of the boy who had once been his friend. His gaze held so much pain and heartache, and Darry wanted nothing more than to get back to who they once were. But they both knew it wasn’t possible.

“I’m sorry it had to be you, Dar. There was no one else.” He said, voice quiet.

“Whatever this is Paul, let me help you. We can figure it out, alright? Just put the gun down.”

Paul looked down at the gun, cold grey glinting in the light, and said, “I won’t let them keep you in jail for long, alright? I’ll talk to my dad, maybe you’ll just have community service or something.”

He hadn’t put it together until that moment. He glanced around the destroyed restaurant, and suddenly the implication of where he was, the state of The Brewclub, the memory of all those Socs staring at him tonight at the bar hit him all at once. It was only then that he realized why Paul wanted him there. 

“Paul, don’t do this to me, please.”

Paul grimaced and turned away, “If there was any other way, I'd do it, but there isn't. I’m sorry, Dar.”

He started walking towards the door, but Darry grabbed his arm before he could get away.

“You can’t, I got my brothers to look out for. If I go to jail I’ll lose them.”

Whatever had softened in Paul’s expression hardened again, and Paul said, “Don’t worry, they’ll live.”

“Paul wait—”

But Paul reared back with the gun in hand and slammed it across Darry’s temple, and for the second time that night, everything went black.

“I woke up not long later, managed to crawl out of the bar, got myself to the phone booth to call you, and, well, you know the rest,” Darry said, voice quiet.

Soda felt like he was going to be sick. There were still scars from that night that littered his brother’s body, they were faint but if you knew what to look for, you could find them. Like the scar above his brow, or the marks on his arms, or the ankle that now gave him trouble when he worked a shift too long. They were reminders, subtle, but there, that he knew his brother saw every time he looked in the mirror.

But there were emotional ones that Soda hadn’t been able to understand, but now they were laid bare for Soda and Pony to see. And he knew Darry hated how this conversation exposed him. 

“What do you think he’s going to do? Clearly, he’s got some sort of plan.”

Darry shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. Something happened that made him snap.”

Darry studied their parents' graves for a long time, Soda could feel him shaking beneath the jacket. He pulled himself closer, hoping to offer him some sort of warmth.

When Darry spoke, it was quiet; they had to lean in close to hear it. “But whatever it is, I’m scared. Not for myself, necessarily. But whatever happened, whatever someone did to him, it must have been bad. I don’t know what he’ll do, but he won’t stop until he gets whoever it is, even if it kills him.”

“How do you know?”

There was something frightening in his gaze when Darry turned towards him, “Because he was right about one thing. If someone killed you or Pony, I’d feel the same way.”

Chapter Text

Soda found the letter in the mail.

It had his name printed in big bold letters across the envelope, MR. SODAPOP CURTIS. The GED Testing Services written in the return address.

He knew what it was, knew what it meant. He wasn’t stupid. Well, not that stupid anyway. He’d been waiting weeks to find out how he did on this test, but now that it was here in his hand? He couldn’t quite bring himself to open it.

He was stuck, frozen at the kitchen table, unable to move forward with his day without opening it, unable to open it for fear of the rejection that might lie inside. He didn’t know what he’d do if he read the words and found out he’d failed. So much was riding on him passing, the top of that list getting custody of Pony. It was the only thing that guaranteed that the two of them could stay together if Darry’s trial didn’t go their way. And as the trial date crept closer and closer, the fear of losing both his brothers to different sorts of prisons started to keep Soda up at night.

But it wasn’t just that. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone, he wasn’t sure he could, but he was strangely excited at the thought of trade school. He’d spent the past few months pouring over the pamphlets and research Darry had pulled together for him. He could almost picture it for himself: a future where he had a steady job, married to some girl with a few kids, Pony writing his third best seller, Darry no longer roofing all day long. It was a quiet life, simple. But Soda realized how desperately he craved it. It was the first time he’d ever dreamed of something like that, and now that the thought had taken hold he couldn’t seem to let it go.

And now as he stood there with the letter that threatened to take that dream away from him, he didn’t think he was brave enough to open it.

But it turned out he didn’t have to because the door banged open, a tired Darry stumbling in.

He was exhausted, Soda could see it in the way he favored the ankle he sprained all those months ago, the pull in his shoulders like he carried a heavy weight. He didn’t realize Soda was there, he could tell by the unguarded expression, a brief glimpse of the weariness that consumed his brother.

“You alright?” Soda asked gently.

Darry startled in a way he hadn’t since he was jumped. When he looked around and found Soda, his eyes softened. He practically collapsed into his recliner as he said, “Just a long day.”

But Soda knew his brother. “Something musta happened. You look like you went two rounds with a bull or something.”

Darry sighed and ran a hand along his face. “That’s about how I feel. Mr. Moore has me practicing for when I get cross-examined at the trial. It’s helpful to know what to expect, but glory does it wear me out.”

Soda winced. Any day Darry had to talk about the night of the robbery left him shaky and drained.

Maybe now wasn’t a good time to show him the letter, Soda thought. He should wait until his brother had the energy, or wasn’t feeling so down. Yeah, he’d tell him first thing in the morning when he was fresh. Well, that might be a problem because Darry was always groggy first thing in the morning. Tomorrow after work? But that’s not a good time because—

“What’s up with you? You’re jumping around like a jackrabbit.”

Leave it to Darry to notice. “It ain’t nothing, really, I can tell you later.”

Darry waved him off. “Nah, I’m tired of moping around anyway. I’d do anything to not have that dang trial on my mind for just an hour.”

Soda didn’t know what else to do, so he took a deep breath and handed him the envelope, saying, “This came in the mail today.”

Darry furrowed his brow and read the front, his eyes widened when he saw the return address.

“Is this—”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’s it say?”

Soda rolled his eyes. “Does it look like I’ve opened it?”

Darry gave him a look and tried to hand it back. “Kid takes his GED and thinks he can start smarting off. Well go on, the suspense is killing me.”

But Soda shook his head, stepping away from the letter in his brother’s hands. “I don’t think I can. You open it.”

“What? This is your letter, not mine. You should be the first one to see what it says.”

Soda sighed. “Please, Dar? I think I’d rather hear it from you.”

Darry’s eyes softened as he studied Soda for a moment, eventually, he asked in that quiet voice he sometimes had, “You sure?”

Soda nodded. “Yeah, I think it’d be better this way.”

Darry gave Soda a gentle smile, pulled the switchblade out of his back pocket he’d started carrying the past couple of months, and slit the envelope open, pulling out the letter from inside.

 Soda held his breath and watched as Darry mouthed the words, reading them silently to himself until—

“You passed.”

Soda stood, frozen, unsure if he heard Darry right over the roaring in his ears. “What?”

A smile broke out over Darry’s face. “You passed.”

“But I don’t— how?”

“Dear Mr. Sodapop Curtis, we are pleased to inform you—”

Soda snatched the letter out of his hand, “But I couldn’t have passed. You gotta be kidding me.”

But there it was, written out in black ink, his passing scores.

He blinked, looking at Darry for the first time, who was still grinning ear to ear. Soda let out a shaky laugh and said, “When do you think those people down at the GED grading office are gonna realize their mistake and send another letter?”

But Darry, apparently, wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He stood up and pulled him into a fierce hug. The motion surprised Soda, his brother was never one for public displays of affection.

“Come on man, it ain’t all that.”

“It is Soda, don’t act like it’s not.”

When Darry pulled back there was a mistiness to his eyes that Soda didn’t know what to do with. 

So he did the only thing he could think of; he tried to lighten the mood. “I mean, I know it’s surprising, but come on Dar. You don’t have to be that shocked I passed.”

But Darry shook his head. “It’s not that, I’m just so damn proud of you. These past few months have been hell, and despite all of that noise you still sat down and studied hard every day. Even when you thought you couldn’t do it, or there was no point, or you weren’t smart enough. And look what you did! You came out passing with flying colors. I mean, these scores are incredible, Pepsi.”

Soda frowned, “I don’t know, I coulda done better in math.”

But Darry waved him off. “You did a damn good job, you hear me? I don’t ever want you doubting yourself. This test just told you what I’ve known the whole time. You’re one of the smartest kids I know. Now you got the paper to prove it.”

Soda tried for a laugh, but it came out sounding funny. “When did you go all soft on me, man?”

But Darry wasn’t quite done. He put a hand on Soda’s shoulder and said, “Mom and Dad would be real proud if they were here, too. And don’t you forget that, alright?”

Soda was saved from responding when the telephone rang and Darry went to answer it. Which was good, he didn’t think he would have been able to keep playing tuff for much longer.

So instead he studied the paper in his hand, and now that Darry put the thought in his head, he couldn’t help but wonder; what would his parents say to him if they were here? Would they have been proud of him for passing? Angry that he dropped out in the first place? Part of him was thankful he’d never have to find out, but the rest of him ached to be able to share in their excitement.

But then, Darry’s panicked voice broke through his thoughts. “Ponyboy? That can’t be right. There has to be some sort of mistake.”

Soda took a step closer, straining to hear whoever was on the other end of the line. But he couldn’t quite make it out.

“No ma’am, of course, I understand. I’ll be down there straight away. Thanks for calling.”

Darry hung up the phone and sighed, leaning his head against the wall. He seemed tired in a way that was impossible to escape.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pony got suspended.”

“What?”

That didn’t make sense. Pony never did stuff like that. Soda was the troublemaker of the family especially at school. Pony fell in the same category as Darry about being a law abiding citizen.

“Yeah, they want me to come down there and talk to Principal Mitchell and pick Pony up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Wait, let me come with you.”

“What? Why?”

“For backup. You know, we Curtis brothers got to stick together.”

Darry rolled his eyes. “I appreciate the sudden interest in family pride, Soda, but I’ll be fine. This ain’t the first time I’ve had to go down to Principal Mitchell’s office and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

But the truth of why Soda wanted to go with him wasn’t so simple. He knew how Darry had been since he was arrested, and how he was after he had to talk about getting jumped. In a lot of ways he was better, old wounds were just beginning to heal. But he also knew that life had humbled Darry in ways Soda hated, and he was still trying to navigate how he fit into the world when he so clearly thought so little of himself.

And going back to their old high school? The place that haunted Darry with memories of who he once was instead of who life had forced him to become? With teachers and students who’d already marked Darry as guilty the second those cops put him in cuffs? He was worried it’d set his brother back.

But he certainly couldn’t say that to Darry, so instead he decided to pull out the big guns. “But I’m about to be Pony’s legal guardian, right? And if this trial doesn’t go the way we want it to, well, I need to be able to do these things, too. At least if I have you around I’ll have an idea of what to expect.”

Darry sighed and glanced down at his watch. Soda knew he didn’t have the energy to fight him on this. “Okay, well, let’s hurry then. I wanna see what exactly Pony’s gotten himself into.”

Going back to his old high school felt like putting on a coat that no longer fit quite right. A strange smell of fresh paint mixed with old gym socks clung to the air, nauseating and familiar all at once. He walked a few paces behind Darry, past people who he’d be about to graduate with if he’d stayed.

But something funny happened when he saw them. Where before Soda would have been embarrassed to be here, like he was lesser than for dropping out, he now felt a strange sense of pride knowing he’d just passed his GED. He wasn’t dumber than these people, not really, and he was surprised at how much that comforted him.

Darry paused when they got to the door of the secretary’s office. Soda watched as his brother closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pulling himself to his full height, preparing like a man about to go into battle. And in a way, he was.

Finally, Darry nodded, more to himself than to Soda, then opened the door and walked straight to the secretary’s desk.

“Hi, Ms. Hart. Good to see you. I’m here about Ponyboy?” 

She looked up from the file on her desk and gave Darry and Soda a considering look before pointing at the chairs sitting in the corner of the room. “You two can wait right over there, Principal Mitchell will be out shortly.”

The two brothers turned, and it was only then that Soda noticed Pony sitting there nursing a black eye.

“Pony, what the hell?” Soda asked, running over to get a look at his kid brother.

“Soda, language,” Darry snapped, glancing at Ms. Hart, who furrowed her brow but thankfully kept her mouth shut. 

Soda rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Dar. But seriously, what happened, kid? Looks like someone did a number on you.”

Pony smirked. “You should see the other guy.”

“Pony,” Darry said, with even more vitriol than before. He glanced over at Ms. Hart again, whose face had twisted into a scowl.

Pony at least had the good sense to look properly chastised. 

They didn’t get a chance to say much more though, because Principal Mitchell chose that moment to step out of his office, scanning the three Curtis brothers.

“Darrel, good to see you, as always. I didn’t expect there to be such a crowd.”

Darry gave him that Boy of the Year smile that teachers were always so fond of. “Sorry sir. Soda was with me when I got the call. It was easier if he tagged along, too. Hope you don’t mind.”

Principal Mitchell narrowed his gaze. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you boys? Since Sodapop here dropped out?”

He gave him a look that Soda bristled at, but Darry stepped in before he could say anything.

“Yessir, it’s been a while since we’ve been back. And let me tell you, the school’s looking real nice since the last time I swung by. Did you all repaint over the summer? It makes an awful big difference.” 

Principal Mitchell turned back to Darry surprise written across his features. And wonder of wonders, Soda could see him soften just a hair. Darry was always good at this part. Adapting himself to whatever situation he was in especially when it came to Socs. Soda didn’t know how he did it, it made his skin crawl.

“Yes well, the PTA was a big help in that, I must admit. Really did bring the school together.”

Darry nodded. “I can tell, sir. I know the students love it too.”

Principal Mitchell seemed thrown off kilter by Darry’s praise, so he cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t the four of us step into my office and discuss this whole situation further?”

The three Curtis brothers squeezed around Principal Mitchell’s desk while the balding man sat across from them. He folded his hands on his desk and said, “Now, Darrel, I called you down here today because it seems Ponyboy here has gotten himself into a bit of trouble.”

“Yessir, that’s what Ms. Hart said on the phone. But I’ll be honest, I’m a bit confused. Pony’s not one for fights normally.”

“Yes, well Mrs. Adams caught him and Ronnie Harris out in the courtyard fighting during lunch.”

Darry winced at the name, and Soda wondered what significance it held. But before he could ask Principal Mitchell continued.

“It was a mess, the poor boy had to be taken straight to the nurse's office. Ponyboy here has learned how to pack quite a punch from someone.”

The look he gave Darry was pointed, but his brother didn’t take the bait.

Pony, however, did. “It ain’t his fault. I was only doing it ‘cause Ronnie was talking shit about Darry.”

“Pony, language,” Darry snapped.

But Pony apparently didn’t care anymore. He was still all riled up from his fight, Soda could tell. And when Pony was like that, not even a nuclear bomb could shut the kid up. “But he did! He was saying all sorts of stuff about you, Dar. And this isn’t the first time. He’s been doing it for weeks. I tried to ignore him but he started talking about your trial, and how you were going to end up dead like Dad soon if you didn’t watch out, and I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take it anymore, I don’t care if they expel me for it.”

“They’re not going to expel you Pony,” Darry said, giving a nervous glance towards Principal Mitchell.

“But if this kind of thing continues, we won’t have a choice, we don’t condone violence of any kind at this school.”

“Well, what about the other kid?” Soda asked.

Principal Mitchell looked at Soda like he’d forgotten he was there. “I’m sorry?”

“What was his name, Ronnie? What about him, did he get suspended?”

Principal Mitchell gave Soda a cagey look and said, “Well he didn’t appear to start the fight.”

Soda shook his head. “No, but he did egg Pony on, and clearly he was violent too, or else my brother wouldn’t have a black eye.”

“But as I just said, Mr. Harris didn’t start the fight.”

Soda nodded, “Right, but you also just said you don’t condone violence of any kind, right? Well, that’s violence too.”

Darry tried to cut in, “Maybe we can discuss Ronnie after we square away Pony,” but no one was listening to him.

Principal Mitchell narrowed his gaze and said, “Mr. Harris had to defend himself, Sodapop. It’d be absurd for us to expect him not to.”

“Okay, fine, but that’s what Pony was trying to do, too. Defend himself. And this kid keeps harassing him and no one’s stopping him, what do you guys think is gonna happen? I mean, a guy can only take so much.”

“I think we’re getting a little off track here,” Darry said, but it was still no use.

Principal Mitchell shook his head and said, “I’m sorry for that, and I agree those comments were inappropriate, but these are the kind of things you can expect when you get yourself involved with the law. Pony’s going to have to learn how to control his temper better.”

Silence engulfed the office as the three Curtis brothers tried to process what Principal Mitchell just said.

Soda was the first one to speak. “What’d you just say?”

Principal Mitchell glanced toward Darry and gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, Darrel, and I hate to see it, truly I do. But just like for Ponyboy here, there are consequences for your actions. I thought you were one of the good ones, I mean Boy of the Year, captain of the football team. You were an example to your peers. And now? Giving up your chance at college? Roofing for a living? This whole mess down at The Brewclub? Attacking Mr. Richards at the Silver Skillet?” Principal Mitchell shook his head. “You could have made something of yourself Darrel, been an example to your brothers. But now look, one’s dropped out and the other’s getting suspended and getting into fights. These things start at home, you know.”

Darry struggled to find the words to respond, just managing to say, “Look, Principal Mitchell—”

But Soda was tired. He was exhausted from having people accuse Darry of being someone he so clearly wasn’t. Of scoffing at him for giving up his dreams just to make sure Soda and Pony could keep theirs. He was tired of the world assuming his guilt when those Socs had hurt him in ways he may never recover, only to leave him tied to a crime he didn’t commit.

Soda was tired, so tired. And this conversation was the final straw. That Curtis temper his brothers were known for finally consumed him, and he felt himself snap.

So before Darry could try to smooth things over, like Soda could tell he was trying to do, he cut in and said, “You don’t know half of what my brother’s been through, Principal Mitchell, he’s one of the best guys I know.”

“Soda—,” Darry tried, but Soda wouldn’t be stopped.

“No. It’s not fair Darry. And I’m tired of people like Principal Mitchell sitting here in their quiet little offices acting like they know anything about us. Judging us for things we didn’t even do. I had to suffer through it when I went to school here, Pony has to suffer through it now, and you got out and they still won’t let it rest.”

Principal Mitchell’s face was turning red. “Now listen here, young man—”

“No, you listen. Darry’s a good man and was one of the best this school ever had. You should know this better than anyone, he was one of your students. And you’re still acting like he’s some East Side trash. And for what? The trial hasn’t even happened yet. It’s all bullshit. And the sooner you realize that then maybe some of the Greaser kids who come through this school might actually have a chance.”

“Soda, that’s enough,” Darry cut in. Soda turned to look at his brother for the first time and saw the tension pulling in his shoulders. Soda was making it worse, he realized, when all he wanted was to help his brother out.

“Darry—”

But whatever Soda was going to say, Darry didn’t want to hear it. “Principal Mitchell, why don’t you and I continue this conversation alone.”

Principal Mitchell looked between the three brothers, cleared his throat, and nodded. “Yes, I believe that would be best.”

“Go,” Darry said.

“But—”

“Now. Both of you. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Soda and Pony sat out in the secretary’s office waiting for Darry, except now Soda felt like he was in trouble too.

“You okay?” Pony asked.

Soda nodded. “Always hated Principal Mitchell.”

“Yeah, he’s a jackass.”

Ms. Hart shot them a warning glare, but Soda couldn’t find it in him to care. Still, he figured it would probably be safer to change the subject.

“Why does the name Ronnie Harris sound familiar?”

“He’s Mark Harris’s little brother, one of the guys that jumped Darry.”

Now it made sense. It was the same guy Darry beat up at that party that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Soda smiled. “You got him good, right?”

“Oh yeah, he was crying like a baby. He’ll probably need stitches.”

Soda laughed, and Ms. Hart looked like she was about to really let them have it, but then the door to Principal Mitchell’s office swung opened and Darry walked out followed closely by the principal.

“Thank you, sir, for hearing me out. Pony will get that essay to you by Monday.”

If Soda didn’t know any better, he’d say that something had softened in Principal Mitchell. Not much, but still there.“That’s good, Darrel. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. Alright?”

“Yessir. Alright boys, grab your things and let’s go.”

They started walking down the hall. As soon as the door to the secretary’s office shut, Pony was grilling Darry.

“What essay?”

Darry sighed, “I talked him out of a suspension if you write a thousand-word essay on the dangers of violence.”

Pony balked. “Darry you can’t be serious. I’d rather just be suspended.” 

Darry shot him a look. “You bet I am. You don’t need to be having any sort of suspensions when you’re applying to colleges. Besides, you’re a writer ain’t ya? A thousand words ought to be nothing.”

“Colleges? Who’s thinking about colleges?”

“I am.”

“But what does any of that matter? Didn’t you hear what he said about you? The shit Ronnie said?”

Darry rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. I got ears, don’t I? But that don’t mean we stop thinking bout your future kid. So you write that essay this weekend and you thank Principal Mitchell on Monday that he was willing to work with you, you understand?”

Pony scoffed. “This is a joke.”

Darry shot his brother a warning glare, “Watch the attitude, Pony.”

But Pony was on a role. “No, I can’t believe you right now. At least Soda was brave enough to say something, you just sat there and took it. And then expect me to thank that asshole? You used to be tuff, Dar. What happened?”

Soda knew the words were harsh, but he also found a small part of himself agreeing with Pony, as much as he hated to admit it. Darry stopped walking and turned to look at them. The halls were silent now, not a soul around. Class must have begun.

Darry studied his brothers for a moment, and quietly he asked, “Is that what you two think?”

When no one spoke, hurt flashed in Darry’s eyes for just a moment, before he shook his head and started walking again, keeping a few steps ahead of his brothers the rest of the way.

No one said another word, not on the long walk through the parking lot, not as the all three squished together on the bench seat, not even when Darry slammed the door and turned the truck on.

Soda and Pony waited for Darry to say something, anything, to lose his head, to go off on them. But he just leaned his head against the back of the seat, closed his eyes, and sighed.

They sat in silence and held their breath. Finally, Darry pulled his head back up and looked at them.

“Do you guys wanna go get Dairy Queen?”

Soda and Pony looked at each other then back at Darry. Neither one of them sure what to say. Both of them too scared to try.

Eventually, Soda figured as the oldest of the two, he ought to be brave. So he cleared his throat and asked, “Dairy Queen?”

Darry nodded. “Or Burger Chef if you’d rather, I’m starved.”

“We never get fast food.”

Darry shrugged. “Yeah, well I’m hungry and I ain’t got it in me to cook. So unless you two want to make dinner I say we pick something up on the way home.”

Soda and Pony looked at each other again then back at Darry.

“Well?”

“Uhh, Burger Chef sounds good to me.”

Darry nodded then threw the truck into drive.

They picked up dinner and Darry said nothing. They went home and ate at the kitchen table and still Darry was silent. There was a tension that hung over the three of them. And Soda didn’t know who was gonna crack first.

Apparently, it was Pony. 

“Can we just get it over with?” He asked.

Darry glanced up at him, still grabbing the fries from his bag. “What?”

“You yelling at me and Soda. Giving us the whole speech, telling me how fighting is never the answer, how Soda should have kept his cool around Principal Mitchell, all that stuff Dad would say.”

Darry stared at him for a long time. Pony started to squirm. “I don’t know, is that speech gonna make a difference?”

Pony tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I can sit here and say it ’til I’m blue in the face and you still won’t be hearing me.”

“So you ain’t gonna try?”

“This Ronnie kid said some stuff about me right?”

“Yeah.”

“You think it was the right thing for you to get in a fight over?”

Pony glanced at Soda like it was a trick question. “I mean, I guess. I didn’t like him saying that stuff about you.”

Darry studied Pony for a long time, then he turned his gaze towards Soda. “And how about you? You’ve been real quiet. You think what you did was the right thing? Going off on Principal Mitchell like that?”

Now it was Soda’s turn to give his brother a worried look. “I mean, what he said was wrong. Someone needed to correct him.”

“And you think that needed to be you? At that specific moment? When Pony was getting suspended?”

Soda shrugged. “I guess so, yeah.”

Darry nodded, something sad in his eye. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

He brushed the salt off his hands and sighed, stretching back in his seat. “I think I’m going to turn in early tonight.”

Whatever Soda and Pony had been expecting it wasn’t that. The two brothers looked at each other again.

“Everything alright, Dar?” Soda asked.

Darry looked between the two of them and nodded. “Yeah, just a long day. We can talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah alright, Dar. See you in the morning.”

Their brother was gone, and Soda and Pony stayed in the kitchen unsure of what to do.

“What just happened?” Pony asked.

Soda blinked and said, “Honestly? I have no idea.”

Soda woke up to a gentle hand on his shoulder and a voice saying, “Pepsi, come on you gotta get up.”

Soda blinked hard, just enough light cast in from the hallway for him to see Darry standing over him already fully dressed. 

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

His brother smiled. “Nothing, Pepsi. But we gotta get going. Get your brother up and get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Soda was so confused he didn’t even question it. Just shook Pony awake and tried to peel himself out of bed.

When they made their way out to the kitchen the two brothers squinted against the bright light. Darry seemed unbothered, coming in from his room humming a tune.

“Good, we’re all ready then. I made some breakfast biscuits for the ride. You boys got everything?”

“I don’t even know what I need,” Pony said, yawning.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it, I got it all in the truck. Let’s go.”

It was still dark outside as Soda and Pony stumbled to the passenger side door. Soda had no clue what time it was, but he knew it was too early for Darry to be this chipper.

“Don’t you have work or something?” He asked, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

Darry shook his head, “Called Mr. Cooper last night, he gave me the day off. I don’t think he minded.”

Whatever they were doing must have been a big deal. Soda couldn’t think of the last time Darry had called out of work. Hell, even when he got jumped he was back before he got the clear from the doctor.

“You ain’t dying or something, are you?” Soda asked.

Darry laughed. “Just shut up and eat your biscuit, Pepsi.”

The drive was long, and the food soothing. Eventually, both Soda and Pony were lulled to sleep by the soft rumble of the engine and the long winding back roads.

Soda wasn’t sure what woke him up. But the engine was shut off and Darry was no longer in the driver's seat.

He blinked and sat up trying to orient himself, Pony still passed out on his shoulder.

Someone tapped on the window and Soda jumped. He turned to see Darry giving him an amused look. Soda rolled the window down and Darry said, “You two gonna help or you just gonna sleep in the truck all day?”

“Help with what?”

“You still don’t know where we are?”

Soda looked ahead. They were surrounded by woods, clearly far away from Tulsa. The leaves had turned a dusty gold that made the world seem aflame, he could smell the sweet crisp air of fall.

Still groggy, Soda couldn’t quite put his finger on why it was all so familiar, that was until Pony sat up and yawned and said, “Is this Lake Tenkiller?” Then he remembered.

Their family used to come up here every chance they could when they were kids. Summer days filled with hours spent in the lake, fingers pruned and skin sun kissed. Even in the cooler months, when the leaves changed and the water was too chilly to swim in, their parents would still bring them out there to fish, or hike, or just get out of Tulsa for a little while.

It’d been a long time since they’d been back, life had become busy even before their parents died, but some of Soda’s favorite memories had been spent at that lake.

Darry smiled and said, “Yeah, figured you boys could use a day of fishing. It’s been a while.”

Soda and Pony blinked at each other, and when Soda turned to ask Darry what the hell was going on he was already gone. 

“You think he’s bringing us out here so he can murder us? No one would find the bodies in the lake, you know. It’s too big,” Pony said.

Soda laughed, “The only thing stopping him is the fact that it might keep all the fish away, and you know how serious he takes fishing.”

“Come on then, we can’t let him get too much of a head start.”

They made their way down to the lake, the sun was just starting to peak through the leaves, and mist rolled off the water. Soda took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. Why had they waited so long to come back? 

Darry was just finishing setting up their fishing poles, he smiled when he saw his brothers.

“I wondered if you two would ever make it down. When’d you guys get so lazy?”

Soda rolled his eyes. “It mighta helped if you actually told us where we were going. That’s on you.”

“Yeah, but half the fun is the surprise.”

They found a spot on the shore and put bait on their hooks. Darry pulled out extra jackets for his brothers, saying, “I figured you two wouldn’t dress warm enough. I don’t know why you’re allergic to winter coats.”

They sat there for a long time, listening to the woods wake up around them. Birds began chirping, squirrels scurried across the forest floor, deer leaped through the leaves. They were all sounds that Soda never got to hear in the city, where the world was filled with gray concrete and the only sound people yelling and horns honking.

But try as he might, Soda couldn’t relax and enjoy it. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Darry had brought them out there, not after how poorly yesterday had gone. His brother should be screaming his head off, or giving them the silent treatment, or letting his Curtis temper get the best of him. Not whatever this was.

The longer they sat there without answers, the antsier Soda felt, and he knew Pony did too. He could tell by the way the kid kept glancing between his brothers, unable to keep himself still.

So, despite everything, Soda took a deep breath, turned to his brother, and asked, “This is great and all Darry, but why now?”

Darry kept his eyes trained on the lake, “What do you mean?”

Soda glanced at Pony, who said, “I don’t know, I just kinda figured you’d be skinning us alive after all that stuff we said.”

Darry glanced over at them. “Do you guys want to be skinned alive?”

“Well, no. But I’m still confused.”

Darry sighed. He was quiet for a long time. Long enough that Soda didn’t know if he’d ever really answer. But eventually he cleared his throat and said, “You boys don’t know this, but I was getting into a lot of fights my senior year.”

Pony glanced at Soda as if he might have any answers but he didn’t.

So instead Soda asked, “I was a freshman, how could I have missed that?”

Darry shrugged. “I wasn’t going around announcing it or nothing. And I wasn’t exactly proud of it, but I was getting hell that year at school. I don’t know what it was about getting Boy of the Year, but it was like all these Socs who thought they were better than me came out of the woodwork. Kept making all these comments, throwing out all these little jabs, needling me, getting under my skin.

“I could handle most of it, but there was this one kid, Tommy Edwards, kind of a wannabe Soc, you know the type. Come from money but no one really likes them? The guy was annoying as hell and just wouldn’t let up. Then one day, he made a comment about Dad getting Mom pregnant, me being a mistake, dumb stuff, really. I don’t even know where he heard it from, but I snapped. Beat the hell out of him. He could say whatever he wanted to about me, but he had to leave Mom and Dad out of it, you know?”

Soda nodded. He knew how Darry felt, he’d done the same thing yesterday.

“Luckily no teachers were around, and I didn’t get in trouble or nothing, but Dad still found out. You know how he used to be. Sometimes you didn’t even know where he got things from, he just knew.

“But the funny thing was he didn’t say anything, just gave me this disappointed look and sent me on my way. I thought he’d forgotten all about that fight, but he woke me up early one day and drug me all the way out here, just the two of us.”

Darry looked out across the lake, started reeling in his fishing line, then recast.

“And we fished for a while, and just when I got good and comfortable, he told me what it was like when he got Mom pregnant. He’d never told me about that before. I don’t think he wanted to upset me or make me feel like a burden or something. I don’t know. But he told me how scared he was back then. They were only nineteen when she got pregnant. Hell, that’s younger than me. Not much older than you Soda.

"And he told me about his own version of Tommy Edwards. James Smith, who kept harassing Dad about the whole thing.”

The name sounded familiar, but Soda couldn’t quite put his finger on why until Pony said, “You don’t mean Mr. Smith do you? The Brewclub owner?”

Darry smiled, “The very same. He always had a thing for Mom I think. Anyway, he said the wrong thing to Dad once, and it was the same situation, Dad socked him good in the jaw, really put him through the wringer, and you know what changed?”

Soda and Pony shook their heads. 

“Nothing. Actually made things harder for Dad. No one wanted to hire him after word got around among the Soc crew that the Curtis boy was beating up their kids. And he needed a job, you know? He had a kid on the way. He got lucky when Mr. Cooper’s dad hired him, but before that, he really didn’t know what he was going to do.”

Soda glanced at their fishing poles, the bobbers drifting in the water. Not a single fish had taken the bait. That was strange for this time of year.

Darry continued. “So I’m sitting here, the very same spot you two are sitting right now, and I say to Dad, “That’s great and all, but why are you telling me all this? And you know what he said?”

“Violence is never the answer?” Soda said.

Darry scoffed. “No. He said there’s always gonna be people talking like they know what we’re about. They’ll say stuff about you that you know in your heart ain’t true. Call you all sorts of names, judge your character and your worth all because of what side of the tracks you grow up on. And fighting those people just gives them more fuel. All we got is how we handle ourselves, the way we hold our heads high and never let them get under our skin. If we can’t do that, he said, then maybe we’re no better than what they accuse us of being.”

Soda gave his brother a small smile and said, “Well, now it’s my turn. Why are you telling us all this, Dar?”

Darry sighed, “Because I ain’t been a good example to you boys lately.”

“That’s not true,” Pony said.

But Darry shook his head, “No, it is. I’ve been flying off the handle, getting mad. Letting every last barb people throw out at me get under my skin. I mean glory, we ain’t ever gonna be able to step foot in the Silver Skillet again, and I did like their waffles.”

He turned to his brothers then and looked at them. Soda could see how much he wanted them to understand, needed them to. There was an almost desperate quality to his voice when he spoke.

“How can I ask you two not to fight when that’s all I’ve been doing for months? It ain’t what Dad taught me to do, and I’m not going to let the two of you go down that road either.

“Because people like Chief Holden and Principal Mitchell, and even that Ronnie Harris kid are always gonna be looking for excuses to keep you in the very place they think you belong. And I don’t want you two to let them, you hear?”

He sighed and looked down at his hands, his voice grew quiet as he continued.

“And this trial is about to start up, and I can promise you boys it’s about to be real bad. You two are gonna hear things about me you don’t want to hear. And if I get convicted—”

“That’s not gonna happen, Darry,” Pony said, with a sureness that made Soda’s heart ache.

Darry gave him a small smile and said, “We don’t know that, Pone. And if it does, all that stuff about me? It’s just gonna get worse. But you two can’t let that get in your head, you hear me? Whatever you do, you got to keep your cool. Choose what you say and when you say it. Never let people get you so riled up you start fighting. Because those people are just gonna use it as an excuse to beat you down.”

Soda shook his head. “But the stuff they’re doing to you, Dar? The things they’re saying? It ain’t right.”

Darry smiled. “That’s life kid. Sometimes you can do everything right and it still screws you over. But I’ll be damned if I gonna let it happen to the two of you.”

Then, Darry sat up and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. It’d been folded and refolded, creased and worn, edges dingy.

“Which is why the two of you have this.”

He handed it to Soda who looked at Darry, confused, but his brother just nodded. Soda opened it up and started reading the first few lines, his heart stopped.

“Is this—”

“Pony’s custody papers. I called Mrs. Miller last night, told her you passed the GED. She pushed everything through. Pony’s official in your custody.”

The three of them sat in silence, Pony and Soda unsure of what to say.

“That’s—wow.”

Soda looked up at Darry looking for any signs of cracks. “And you’re okay with all this?”

Darry smiled. “Of course I am. This don’t change nothing that matters. You two boys are stuck with me no matter what happens, whether I win this trial or not.”

“But you are going to win,” Pony said again, voice more desperate than before.

Darry’s smile turned sad. “Maybe, but even if I don’t, I won’t be in jail forever, okay? And when I get out, you’ll still be my two dumb kid brothers who need me to knock some sense into them, and I’ll still be the only one who can do it. But this—” he pointed at the papers in Soda’s hand, the words that erased Darry from their family, “it keeps you boys safe, and at the end of the day that’s all that matters. Yeah? The rest of it’s just stuff, and we can figure out stuff.”

Soda looked down at the paper in his hand, it felt heavy. He wanted to crumple it up and throw it in the lake, watch as the ink washed away from the page. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t change anything if he did.

“You caught something,” Darry said.

“What?”

Darry smiled at him and said, “Your bobber, it went under.”

Soda looked out at the lake and realized Darry was right. For a moment, custody papers forgotten, Soda leaped up and started reeling in the fish, his brothers cheering him on. 

And Soda let himself get lost in the moment, of fishing with his brothers, of the chance of the first catch of the day waiting for him just beneath the lake surface, of Pony’s excitement breaking through the air, of Darry’s gentle hand on his shoulder keeping him steady. He let himself pretend that life was this simple, that this moment would stretch on for eternity. The quietness of the lake, the sharp color of the autumn leaves, the feeling that here, in this place, with his brothers by his side, they could conquer anything.

He knew it wouldn’t last, not with the custody papers weighing heavy in his back pocket, but he let himself pretend anyway. Otherwise, he was afraid he might drown.

Chapter Text

It was the night before Darry’s trial, and no one in the Curtis house could sleep.

But that didn’t stop them from pretending.

Soda and Pony were in Pony’s room, Soda staring up at the ceiling. Mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. Some of them ridiculous, some of them not. Darry could botch his testimony, Mr. Moore could decide this case wasn’t worth it after all, the prosecution could have a surprise witness none of them saw coming.

His brother could be found guilty.

He groaned, trying to clear the thought from his head. It must have been louder than he realized, because he heard Pony whisper, “You can’t sleep either, huh?”

Soda sighed. “Yeah, call it a hunch, I don’t think there’s much sleep in my future.”

“I know, I’m too freaked. Every time I close my eyes—”

“Yeah, me too, kid.”

They were quiet for a while both lost in their thoughts, then eventually Pony said, “Come on Soda, you’ve always got a story to tell. There must be something in that head of yours to distract us.”

Soda laughed. “What do you want me to talk about?”

Pony thought about it then eventually said, “How’s your new job going?”

Soda turned so he was facing his brother, “You want to talk about that now?”

“It’s better than thinking about all of this.”

Soda couldn’t help but agree, so he said, “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the job ain’t too bad, I think I’m actually starting to get the hang of it.”

It was true. He’d been a little lost right after he passed his GED, but Mrs. Miller had been a big help. He told her he was interested in being an electrician, and she showed him a program to sign up for. He got a grant for the schooling, which was great because it meant his whole paycheck could actually go to the bills; a paycheck that was a great deal bigger now than it was when he worked at the DX Station.

And that wasn’t the best part. Since he had custody now, both his and Darry’s paychecks could cover the household bills. Things had become a lot less tight money-wise, and Darry didn’t have to work sun up to sundown every day. It was good timing, too. With the trial coming up, it meant Darry could focus on spending time at Mr. Moore’s getting ready instead of wasting away on some roof all day.

But that wasn’t the only reason he liked the job. “My boss told me last week I had a pretty good eye for it if you can believe it. So at least he ain’t gonna send me packing anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“It doesn’t?”

Pony shook his head. “Nah, you’re always real good at stuff when you put your mind to it, I’ll bet you’re the best one there.”

Soda laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Darry now.”

“Broken clock is right twice a day and all that,” Pony said, smiling.

Soda gave him a light punch in the shoulder and said, “Better be glad he ain’t in here kid. He’d skin you if he heard you talking like that.”

Before Pony could say anything in response, they heard a bang from down the hall. They looked at each other then back at the bedroom door.

“What do you think that was?” Soda asked.

Pony started to sit up when they heard another bang, his younger brother had a strange look in his eye that made Soda suspicious.

“What’s with that look?”

“What look?”

“The one that says you know something I don’t,” Soda said.

Pony sighed. “It’s nothing just—”

There was another bang from down the hall, and Pony threw the sheets off, pulling on his sweatshirt. Soda did the same.

“Darry’s been having nightmares.”

“What? How do you know that?”

Pony threw him a look. “I talk to Darry, too, you know.”

“I didn’t mean that kid, just surprised neither one of you told me.”

Pony shrugged, “Yeah, well, I thought they’d gotten better after he told us about the night he was jumped, at least, I hadn’t heard him up at night, but maybe—” there was another bang, and Pony winced.

“Come on, let’s go check on him.”

They made their way down the hall that seemed to stretch forever in the night. When they got to Darry’s door they could see the light creeping out from underneath.

“Is he still up, glory, what time is it?”

Pony gave him a look, “Yeah because we’ve been snoozing away this whole time.”

Soda rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else they heard another bang coming from the room, followed by a quiet curse from their brother. Soda and Pony looked at each other, then Soda knocked on the door. “Dar, everything alright in there?”

They were met with silence for a moment, then eventually, a quiet, “Yeah, go back to sleep. I’m alright.”

But there was something off in his voice, Soda glanced back at Pony, who nodded, so Soda did the only thing left to do. Open up the bedroom door.

“Darry, what the hell?”

The sight before him was one Soda wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.

Everything, absolutely everything was pulled out of their dad’s side of the closet and strewn around the room, and it looked like the things from Darry’s closet had been added to the mix. There wasn’t a surface untouched by clothes.

Darry had the audacity to look at them like they were the crazy ones. “I’m just trying to pick out what to wear.”

“And did you rob a Sears on the way home?”

Darry folded his arms across his chest. “I’m just weighing all of my options.”

“It’s one in the morning. And your trial is tomorrow.”

Darry looked between the two brothers for a moment longer, and then something broke. He groaned, falling back on the pile of clothes that had become his bed, putting his hands over his face as if to block out their stares. “I don’t know what to do, I’m freaking out. None of this stuff is nice enough. I should have thought ahead, bought something decent.”

Soda sat down on the bed beside him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but since when do you care about clothes?”

Darry peaked through his hands. “Since always, at least for something like this, clothes are all I got.”

Soda glanced over at Pony, who was pushing a pile of sweaters to the side so he could sit down too, but he looked just as lost as Soda.

“I’m not sure we get what you mean.”

Darry sighed. “Do you know how many Socs are gonna be on that jury? Probably all of them. They’re gonna be looking at me, judging every move I make, how I sit, how I look. And it’s not like I get to say much to convince them. All I get is the little bit I testify, and shoot, half of that is the cross-examination, and there’s no way I come out of that looking good. The rest of the trial is people like Mr. Smith and Chief Holden telling them how awful I am, and how I definitely did it even though they ain’t got any real proof. I don’t got no control over that. But how I act? What I wear? That’s all they’ll see the whole time I’m in there. And I ain’t got anything decent.”

Soda got it, in a way. Darry had always been the one out of the three of them that could step into the role of being a Soc. Part of it was how he dressed, but a lot of it was how he acted. He knew what was expected of him and how to play into it. Not that it was any less authentically him, just for some reason, he was better at blending into that world than the rest of the gang. And tomorrow was going to be the ultimate test of that trait. Because if they thought Darry was nothing more than some East Side trash, it wouldn’t matter what really happened that night, they’d throw him in jail and never let him out.

But even more than that, Darry was scared. Soda could hear it in the slight tremble in his voice, see it in the shake of his hand. Months the night he was jumped had been following his brother around, haunting him. Now that it all led up to this moment Darry didn’t know what to do.

And if this was something that could distract his brother, even for a moment, and give him something he felt like he had control over? Well then, who was he to stand in his way.

“Well, show us what you got,” Soda said.

Darry looked over at him, surprise written across his features. “Really?”

Soda nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be kind of fun. Our very own Darrel Curtis fashion show. Too bad there ain’t no girls here, they’d be going nuts.”

Darry tried to shove him off the bed, but Soda rolled away too quick.

“You guys sure you don’t mind? It’s late, you boys really need to sleep.”

Pony smiled. “Were any of us sleeping anyway?”

So they stayed up late into the night, going over every one of Darry’s outfits with more attention to detail than Soda even knew you could give clothes. Pony made them some hot chocolate, and the three brothers laughed, and cut up, and gave Darry hell every chance they got.

What they landed on was nice, maybe a little stuffy for Soda’s taste, but their brother certainly looked like a true blue Soc. A gray three-piece suit, vest and everything. There was only one thing missing.

“How about the shoes? I haven’t seen you try any on.”

Darry frowned. “Oh, I’ve got a pair from high school I’m gonna wear.” He pointed at a pair of old, ratty dress shoes lying on the floor that certainly didn’t line up with the rest of his outfit. 

Soda gave him a look. “You sure? You don’t got something else?”

Darry shrugged. “I usually would have worn that pair of Dad’s, but you know.”

Soda winced, he’d forgotten about the last time Darry had worn them, forgot his brother had lost other things that mattered to him that night he was jumped.

Soda didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter, suddenly, Pony sat up and said, “Wait, you need one more thing,” and ran out of the room like a streak of lightning. Darry gave Soda a confused look.

“He gets that from you, you know,” Darry said.

Soda rolled his eyes, “So the kid’s a goof, what are you going to do?”

Before they could say anything else, Pony was back with a small box.

“Here, try this.”

Darry looked at it in confusion. “What is it?”

“Well you gotta open it, dummy.”

Their brother pulled the lid off of the box and his expression softened, “You don’t gotta give me this, Pone, it’s yours.”

“What is it?” Soda asked, standing up to see.

“Dad’s watch,” Pony said.

And it was, Soda realized, their dad’s pocket watch. It’d been their grandfather’s before that. Their dad had gotten it when he died. He only ever wore it on nice occasions, like his wedding, or Darry’s graduation, or when Pony got the award for highest grade point average in seventh grade. But the boys knew it well. They’d spent hours as kids marveling at it, how you had to wind it up to get it to tick, the golden chain, the engravings along the back. 

“I didn’t know you had this,” Soda said.

Pony smiled. “Dar gave it to me on the day of Mom and Dad’s funeral. Let me wear it that day.”

“And I want you to keep it, Pony. There’s no reason for you to give it back.”

Pony shrugged. “You’ll need it more than I will tomorrow.”

Darry frowned. “But still—”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can give it back after the trial when you win and you don’t need it anymore, alright?”

Darry pulled his gaze away from the pocket watch and studied his brother for a long time, something delicate in his expression. Eventually, he smiled and said, “Yeah, alright. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

It was nearing three in the morning, and despite his exhaustion, Soda knew he still wouldn’t be able to sleep, so instead he yawned and said, “Since we got Dar all squared away let’s do something else, my brain’s too tired.”

“Why, what big plans you got in mind?” Darry asked.

Soda shrugged, “Why don’t we all camp out in the living room for the rest of the night? We can build a fort like Mom used to let us do.”

Pony nodded. “We got the stuff for s’mores in the cabinet, I can make those in the oven.”

Darry looked between the two of them like he wanted to argue, and Soda knew what he was going to say: that it was late, that they needed to rest before tomorrow, that it wasn’t the responsible thing to do. But Soda was tired of being responsible, and he knew Darry was too.

So before he could say any of that Soda said, “What’d ya say, Dar? Last night as a free man and all.”

Darry looked down at the watch in his hand and ran his fingers through the chain. When he looked up, he gave his brothers a smile and said, “Why not? Like you said, last night as a free man and all, it means I won’t be the one cleaning it up tomorrow.”

“They know people have to actually sit in these seats, right? They could have at least tried to make them comfortable,” Two-Bit said. 

He hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they stepped foot in the courthouse, and now that they sat in the gallery the row behind the defendant's table he’d only gotten worse.

Steve elbowed him. “You gotta calm down man, you’re stressing me out.”

Soda expected Two-Bit to laugh, or elbow Steve back. Something. Anything to break the tension coursing through their ragtag group. But he didn’t do any of that. Just shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, today’s just a lot.”

There was something about Two-Bit being nervous, the guy that was always quick with a joke and a could lighten any mood, that made the whole thing more real to Soda. This could be the last day he saw his brother in something beside prison stripes, the last time he could talk to him and it not be through a pane of glass.

But if he dwelled on the thought too long he was afraid he might drown in it. So he looked around to distract himself. There were more people there than he anticipated, some of them strangers, some not, like Mrs. Miller sitting a few rows back, or Mr. Cooper walking in through the door.

Mr. Smith stood in the gallery, leaning over the railing to say something to the District Attorney, Mr. Tate. Soda hadn’t seen either one of them since Darry’s bail hearing, and he prayed he’d never have to see them again.

“Look, here comes Chief Asshat,” Steve muttered.

Soda turned, and sure enough, in walked Chief Holden, a smug look on his face as he scanned the room. The guy hadn’t been there for thirty seconds and already Soda wanted to kick his teeth in.

“I forgot he’d be able to come this early,” Pony said.

“What’d ya mean?” Soda asked

“Darry explained it to me, most people who are witnesses can’t come in the courtroom until they testify because might affect their testimony, it’s the same reason Darry’s buddy William ain’t in here and we know he’s testifying. There’s probably some others, too.”

“So how come Chief Holden’s here? He’s testifying too, right?”

“I think he’s an expert witness since he’s a cop. It’s different for them.”

Soda was going to ask him more just to distract himself from his own thoughts when he saw Mr. Moore walk in, Darry a few steps behind.

Soda smiled as the two of them made their way to the defendant's table. He said, “Looking sharp in that suit Mr. Curtis.” 

Darry rolled his eyes and said, “Ain’t nothing, just something I threw together this morning.”

Soda and Pony laughed, the others throwing them confused looks, but they didn’t explain themselves. They didn’t need to.

Mr. Moore reached out to shake Soda’s hand and said, “Morning boys. We got a good chance today, I think.”

Pony tilted his head, “You do?” He asked, with just a bit too much hope in his tone for Soda’s liking.

Mr. Moore nodded. “I do. Darry’s been real good about helping me build a case.” He turned towards Darry and added, “You really do have an eye for this, you know. “

Darry blushed. “Thank you, sir, but I haven’t really done much.”

“Don’t sell yourself short kid. And all of you boys remember, it might look a little rough, but you just trust the process, alright?”

Judge Nichols came in and the crowd started to settle down, the jury followed not long after. Darry had been right. Every one of them was a Soc of some kind. Soda could tell because they were wearing clothes the Curtis family never could have afforded even when their parents were still alive. Suddenly Darry’s panic last night made even more sense. But looking at him now, sitting just a few feet away, Darry easily played the part of one of them. And it wasn’t just the clothes, but how he handled himself, his demeanor, the way he studied the jury as they walked in. Appearance wise, Soda didn’t doubt for a second that Darry would be fine.

What worried him was everything else.

Judge Nichols cleared his throat and everyone settled down. Once quiet, he said, “Mr. Tate, if you’d like to call your first witness?”

The district attorney stood up and said “I call James Smith to the Stand, your honor.”

Mr. Smith stood up and walked to the witness box with an air of arrogance that made Soda’s blood boil. Soda glanced over at Darry to gauge his reaction and was surprised to see his brother had pulled his gaze down toward the table, not even throwing so much as a glance toward the restaurant owner. 

Mr. Smith got settled in, and Mr. Tate started off by letting the jury get to know him, say who he was, what he did, and then, finally the questioning about the night of the robbery began.

“In your own words, Mr. Smith, could you tell us what happened the night of July 1?”

Mr. Smith nodded. “Of course. I was there that evening managing the bar. And Darrel was—”

“Sorry, Mr. Smith but could you clarify to the jury who you’re speaking of?”

Mr. Smith blinked. “What? Oh, of course. The defendant, Darrel Curtis.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Please continue.”

“As I was saying, Dar— Mr. Curtis was sitting at the bar that night. He came fairly early, I’d say around 8:30 that evening. Never talked to anyone, never met up with anyone. I thought the whole affair was strange.”

“Why is that, Mr. Smith?”

“I’m there most nights and not once have I ever seen him in my restaurant. Certainly not alone. I would have noticed him before.”

“Why would you have noticed him?”

Mr. Smith gave Darry a considering look. “We don’t often have people drive all the way from his side of town.”

Soda watched the eyes of the jury members shift from Mr. Smith to Darry, but he couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Darry, for his part, kept his head down.

“What did Mr. Curtis do while he was there?”

“Drank a great deal. Not a single thing to eat.”

“What was his behavior like?”

“Quiet at first, but after a few drinks he began to behave as one might expect after drinking alone for hours. Rude to the staff, making other patrons uncomfortable. That sort of thing. I was surprised I didn’t receive any complaints, but fortunately, the other guests dining with us were understanding.”

“What a load of bull,” Steve muttered.

But Soda kept his eyes trained on Darry, watching his reaction. He still kept his head down, but Soda could tell he’d pulled the pocket watch out of his jacket pocket, he ran the chain through his fingers.

“You didn’t think to ask him to leave?”

“Unfortunately, we deal with unsavory customers from time to time, thus is the nature of running a restaurant. I typically leave those sorts of calls up to my staff. They are well trained, if they think they can handle a customer, then I trust they can.”

“And what time did he leave?”

“When we closed at eleven. I believe he was the last one to pay his tab and actually exit the premises.” 

“Did you see him leave?”

“No. I was in my office at the time.”

“And what happened afterward?”

“I did the things typical of a closing shift, locked up, and went to my car to go home.”

“And was there anything suspicious in the parking lot that evening?”

“There were still a few vehicles left there. I wasn’t sure where the owners were because there was no one else in the restaurant, and none of them belonged to my employees.”

“Did this worry you?”

Mr. Smith shrugged. “Sometimes people park there overnight, particularly when drinking is involved. I assumed it was something similar.”

“Did any of the vehicles stand out to you?”

“One, there was a red Apache Chevrolet. It seemed a bit out of place.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, to be honest, it was a bit more working class than what we normally see there.”

“Objection. Relevance, your honor.”

Mr. Moore’s sharp voice in the courtroom shocked everyone out of Mr. Smith’s testimony. Eyes pulled towards Darry again, but still, he didn’t so much as glance up.

Judge Nichols nodded. “Sustained. Let’s move on, Mr. Tate.”

The lawyer nodded. “And what happened next?” 

“I went home. The next morning I came at around eight, the same time I always arrive, and was met with the worst shock of my life.”

He gave a theatrical sigh that Soda couldn’t help but roll his eyes at.

“What caused this shock, Mr. Smith?”

“The state of my restaurant. I mean, I honestly couldn’t believe it at first. I drove up and the porch was littered with glass. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I was so flabbergasted that I thought maybe a storm had hit the area that I slept through. Never mind the fact I hadn’t seen a single tree down anywhere else in Tulsa. But then I stepped inside and it only got worse.”

“Can you explain the extent of the damage?”

“All the windows were busted in, every table and chair ruined, all of the liquor behind the bar smashed on the ground. Thousands of dollars in damage.”

“Was there anything stolen?”

“All the cash out of the register and the gun out of my safe.”

“What did you do after you discovered the break-in?”

“I went back out to see if there was anything else in the parking lot. The only vehicle still there was the red truck from the night before. I ran inside to call the police, but the phone had been busted, and I didn’t have any money on me to use the pay phone out back. So I drove down to the nearest business to call the police and report it. By the time I got back, the truck was gone.”

“And to your knowledge, was there anyone on the property still who could have moved the truck?”

Mr. Smith shook his head, “Not that I saw. Unless they were hiding out in the woods, which is possible. You could hide anything out there.”

Mr. Tate nodded. “Thank you, sir. That’s all.”

Mr. Moore stood up as soon as Mr. Tate took his seat, and walked over to the window to look out, hands in his pockets. Mr. Smith eyed him with a sour expression.

Finally, Mr. Moore turned and moseyed over toward the witness box. “Morning, Mr. Smith, listening to your testimony this morning you talked a lot about the property damage but we haven’t heard as much about what was stolen. I thought we’d circle back to that if it’s alright with you.”

Mr. Smith scoffed and said, “Do I have a choice?”

This received a laugh from the gallery, and Mr. Smith seemed to sit up a bit straighter.

Mr. Moore smiled and said, “No, I suppose not. Do you mind telling the jury again what was stolen? 

“The money out of the cash register and the gun out of my safe.”

Mr. Moore nodded, “I see, and was there anything else of value in The Brewclub?”

Mr. Smith tilted his head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s take this back a step or two. The Brewclub is a nice restaurant, correct?”

Mr. Smith puffed up a bit and said, “One of the finest in Tulsa.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “I agree. You’ve got a great chef there, let me tell you. And some of the best whiskey in town, no one else comes close.”

“We pride ourselves on that.”

Mr. Moore nodded, “I can see why, but those sorts of things cost money, correct?”

“They do.”

“The whisky, for example. Now how much would you say a bottle of your top-shelf liquor cost?”

“Our most expensive bottle is around $1500.”

Mr. Moore let out a low whistle. “Wow, that is some nice whiskey. Alright, and remind me again, how long did you say Mr. Curtis sat at the bar scoping the place out?”

“Somewhere between three to four hours.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “Okay, let’s say three hours for the sake of argument. Now, If someone was sitting at the bar of your restaurant for three hours looking for things of value, one of the first things they’d notice was the liquor sitting on the top shelf. If they were stealing valuables, wouldn’t it make sense that one of the things they’d grab was the expensive liquor?”

Mr. Smith’s face had soured. “Not if they don’t know what a good liquor is, Mr. Moore, not everyone is as well bred as us.”

Soda flinched, his own anger rising at the words, and he could tell the same was true for his friends. He waited for Mr. Moore to throw one of those objections of his out. But Mr. Moore didn’t, he just nodded along.

“Alright, you’ve got a fair point, Mr. Smith. Maybe someone wouldn’t be well versed on alcohol prices. But they should be able to know that a Babe Ruth autographed baseball is worth money. I mean any lay person on the street would know that, correct?”

Mr. Smith narrowed his gaze, “I suppose so.”

“And that’s another item you have in your restaurant, is it not?”

“It is.”

“And refresh my memory, Mr. Smith, was that on your list of things stolen?”

Mr. Smith worked his jaw for a moment, then said, voice tight, “No, it’s still there.”

“Was it destroyed in any way?”

“No.”

“And it is behind the bar, right? In clear view of where Mr. Curtis would have been sitting.”

“Yes.”

Mr. Moore nodded and leaned back against the defendant's table, letting the jury soak in his words. Soda watched as a few of them wrote things down.

Eventually, he said. “Now let’s circle back to the gun. Where was it located?”

“In a safe in my office.”

“So I assume that means the safe was broken into?”

“No, the door was open.”

“You mean you left it opened the night before?”

“Of course not. I would never leave it standing open, certainly not overnight," Mr. Smith said, looked affronted. 

Mr. Moore paused, giving Mr. Smith a considering look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith, can you clarify that for me? If it wasn’t broken into, and you closed it before you left, then how was the burglar able to get inside it?”

Something shifted in Mr. Smith’s face, just a fraction, and he turned to look at Darry. As if he felt his gaze, Darry looked up at him for the first time. Something passed between the two of them Soda couldn’t understand.

Mr. Moore repeated, “Mr. Smith? How was the door opened?”

Mr. Smith’s tone had lost some of its bite when he said, “Someone would need to know the combination.” He continued to stare at Darry as if seeing him for the first time; Darry simply held his gaze.

“Is there any way that Mr. Curtis could have known the combination?”

Mr. Smith finally pulled his gaze away from Darry and said, “Possibly.”

“Possibly?”

“I might have had it written down somewhere in my office.”

“You might or you do?”

Mr. Smith paused for just a second too long and said, “I do.”

Mr. Moore smiled and said, “Mr. Smith, I just want to remind you, that you are under oath.”

Mr. Smith shook his head. “No, I do. I’m certain of it. It’s in one of the files on my desk.”

Mr. Moore watched him for a long time, then eventually said, “Is there anyone besides yourself who knows the code?”

Mr. Smith’s gaze had gone back to Darry like a magnet, searching for something. Soda watched as his brother gave a slight shake of his head and pulled his own gaze back towards his table. He continued to run the chain of the pocket watch through his fingers.

Quietly, like he didn’t even realize he was saying it, Mr. Smith said, “Cecil.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Smith, could you clarify for the record who you just said?”

Mr. Smith blinked and seemed to come back to himself. He shook his head and said, “No, sorry forget I said anything—”

“If you’ll repeat the name for me, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith’s gaze hardened, whatever brief moment of humanity they held was now long gone. After a moment he said, “Cecil Holden.”

“And that is—”

“You know good and well that’s Chief Holden’s full name, Bill,” Mr. Smith bit back, composure slipping.

Mr. Moore gave him a small smile. “Sorry, Mr. Smith. Not trying to aggravate you, just want to set the record straight. Now, let’s talk a little bit more about that gun. What did it look like?”

“Oh, let’s see. It’s a nineteenth-century Colt single action army revolver. Mother of Pearl handle, and engraving along the barrel.”

Mr. Moore let out another whistle. “Wow, I can see why you kept that in a safe. That must have cost a pretty penny I imagine.”

“Yes, it must.”

“How much is it valued at?”

Mr. Smith looked out over the gallery, it took Soda a minute to realize he was looking at Chief Holden, who wasn’t looking nearly as smug as he had when he walked in this morning. “I’m not sure.”

Mr. Moore tilted his head. “You’re not sure?”

“No.”

“A ballpark then.”

But Mr. Smith shook his head, “I couldn’t begin to say.”

Mr. Moore stood up, stepping closer to the witness box. “I don’t know much about guns, Mr. Smith, but I do know just the engraving alone on a gun like that must cost a fair deal. You have to have some idea of it’s estimated value.”

Mr. Smith blinked at him, eyes widening. And when he said, “The gun was given to me,” there was a shakiness there that wasn’t before.

“Given to you?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

Mr. Smith shook his head and said, “Well, maybe given isn’t quite the right word—”

“Then how did it come to be in your possession, Mr. Smith?” Mr. Moore said, tone firm.

Mr. Smith sighed and pulled his gaze back towards Mr. Moore. “It’s Chief Holden’s. That’s why he knows the safe combination. He kept the gun there.”

There was a small murmur in the gallery at the new piece of information.

“Any particular reason?” Mr. Moore continued. 

Something about the question brought the fire back in Mr. Smith, “A man can keep a gun anywhere he wants, can’t he? That isn’t a crime. And it doesn’t change the fact that it was stolen from my restaurant, out of my safe.”

Mr. Moore studied Mr. Smith for a few moments until Mr. Smith began to squirm. Then he nodded.

“No further questions your honor.”

Judge Nichols looked over at Mr. Tate who shook his head, then told Mr. Smith he could sit down.

Pony glanced over at Soda.

“That has to be good for Darry, right?” His brother said.

But Soda wasn’t so sure, what did it really matter who’s gun it was? It was stolen either way, especially if the prosecution could argue that he kept the combination to the safe written down in his office somewhere. And it wouldn’t, in Soda’s opinion, take much to convince this Soc jury to lock Darry up and throw away the key.

So lost in thought was Soda that he didn’t realize Chief Holden had taken the stand. It was strange to see him there in a suit sitting in the witness box; for some reason Soda couldn’t explain it made him more human. He no longer seemed like a monster who could ruin their lives, but just a man, no better than the rest of them.

“You were the first one on the scene, Chief Holden?” Mr. Tate asked.

The Chief nodded. “Yes, I received a dispatch call around 8:45, since I was the closest to the area I headed out that way.”

“And was there anyone else there when you arrived?”

“Just Mr. Smith.”

“Can you describe to the jury what you found at the scene?”

“The first thing I noticed was how bad The Brewclub looked. I could see shattered glass all over the porch when I drove up. Mr. Smith took me inside and I can tell you there wasn’t a thing untouched. Everything was thrown on the floor or smashed up.”

Chief Holden went on to describe in detail all the different ways The Brewclub was vandalized, Mr. Tate nodded along as he listened.

When finally he was at the end, Mr. Tate asked, “And was there anything of note out in the parking lot?”

“The first thing I found out there was blood a little ways away from the building, as well as in the phone booth out back. It seemed fresh, so I assume that was from someone cutting their arm on the glass when they broke in.”

“Blood all the way in the parking lot but not inside the restaurant? Yeah, that makes sense,” Two-Bit said.

“Shhh,” Steve said.

Chief Holden then leaned back in his chair and said, “But the biggest thing we found was a shoe a few feet from the porch.”

Mr. Tate pulled out a shoe from the prosecution’s table. Soda saw Darry stiffen.

Pony leaned over “Is that—”

“Dad’s shoe, yeah.”

“It’s not like they can prove it’s his though, why’s Darry freaking out?”

Soda wasn’t sure.

Mr. Tate said, “We’d like to submit this to the court as evidence.”

Judge Nichols looked over at Mr. Moore who said, “We have no objections, your honor.”

“Alright then, go ahead Mr. Tate.”

The lawyer took the shoe up to Chief Holden and said, “Now, there seems to be writing on the sole there, can you make it out?”

Chief Holden smiled, “Yes sir I can. It says Darrel Curtis Junior, little smudged, but written clear as day.”

There was a murmur in the crowd as Mr. Tate showed it to the jury. Soda’s heart stopped. Now he remembered, Darry had written his name in the shoe as a kid. But that didn’t prove anything, right? They all knew Darry was there, he hadn’t tried to say otherwise, just that he didn’t rob the place. The shoe didn’t prove anything they didn’t already know. Did it?

But from the way the jury was looking at Darry, Soda had a feeling they didn’t share his opinion.

“Damn it,” Two-Bit said.

“I know, this is bad,” Steve said.

Two-Bit shook his head. “No, I tripped over that shoe when we went to get Darry, remember?” He asked, glancing towards Soda.

Soda did, vaguely. There’d been so many other things he’d been thinking of that night he’d nearly forgotten.

“I should have picked it up then, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Hey, we were more worried about getting Darry out of there, don’t sweat it,” Soda said, but he could tell the words did nothing to soothe his friend’s guilt.

The questioning went on a while longer, going over the different damage that was done in The Brewclub, talking about the items stolen. After having Chief Holden describe the gun, he asked, “What would you estimate the value of this item to be?”

“Around $1500 I’d say.”

The comment raised some eyebrows in the gallery.

“And Mr. Smith testified it was your gun, not his. Would you agree with this statement?”

“I would.”

“And why would you keep your gun at his place of business?”

Chief Holden leaned towards the jury as if letting them in on a secret. “He and I are friends, go way back. His safe is a fair deal nicer than the one I have at home. Didn’t want anything to happen to the revolver is all. Plan on giving it to my son one day. Wanted to keep it as safe as possible.”

Mr. Tate nodded, “Thank you for your time, Chief Holden.”

Mr. Tate sat back down, and Mr. Moore leaned back in his own chair, arm thrown over the back as he gave the police chief a considering look. Chief Holden, for his part, did not hide his disdain.

Eventually, Mr. Moore said, “While we’re on the topic, I want to talk a little bit more about this revolver, Chief Holden, if that’s alright with you.”

“That’s fine by me,” Chief Holden said.

Mr. Moore nodded. “How did you acquire it?”

“It was my father’s. His father’s before that. Gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.”

Mr. Moore studied him for a minute. “I guess what I’m struggling to understand is that it sounds like a significant heirloom. I mean, Mrs. Robinson, can you remind us of Mr. Smith’s testimony earlier about the gun?

The court reporter flipped to the page and read off, “It’s a nineteenth-century Colt single action army revolver. Mother of Pearl handle, and engraving along the barrel.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Robinson, that’s fine. And you kept a nice family heirloom like that at The Brewclub?”

Chief Holden narrowed his gaze and spoke slowly, as if to a child, “As I said to Mr. Tate, it seemed safer there.”

“Safer than at the Tulsa Police Chief’s house?”

“Mr. Smith has good security down there,” he glanced toward Darry and said, “Well, usually, that is.”

“And this safe, could you describe it to me?”

“A standard safe for a business, Wagner brand. Nicer than anything I could get for my home.”

“And according to Mr. Smith’s testimony it wasn’t broken into, would you agree?”

“I would,” Chief Holden said, nodding.

“So it was unlocked with the code?”

“Yes, it was.”

“And besides yourself and Mr. Smith, is there anybody who has the code for the safe?”

Chief Holden’s eyes shifted over the gallery for a moment like he was looking for someone before snapping back towards Mr. Smith. “No one.”

“No one? And you’ve never written it down somewhere?”

“No.”

“And what about Mr. Smith? Has he ever written it down?”

Chief Holden shrugged. “I wouldn’t know that.”

“Then do you have any idea how Mr. Curtis here would have the code?”

Chief Holden laughed. “Of course I wouldn’t. Mr. Smith said it could have been written down on his desk somewhere, sounds like your best bet to me. Should have questioned him better.”

Judge Nichols’s head shot up, and he looked at Mr. Moore like he expected him to say something, but the lawyer just tilted his head and said, “And how would Mr. Curtis know there was anything of value in the safe?”

“Well, it’s a safe ain’t it?”

“Sure, but there were other things in The Brewclub for him to steal beyond just the gun. Some of them right behind the bar. He would have seen them when he was sitting there that evening. But what he couldn't see was the safe in Mr. Smith's office. How would he even know it was there?”

Chief Holden shrugged. “I don’t know what a kid like him’s thinking. Probably saw the safe and wasted all his time trying to unlock it instead of going for anything worth stealing. I’ve known that boy a long time, and I always said he was a few screws loose. My son took pity on him, but he ain’t worth nothing. Paul’s life got a lot easier once he realized that too.”

Soda saw Darry flinch, but he kept his head down, it took all of Soda’s will power not to make a scene.

But it turned out he didn’t have to, Judge Nichols was nearly spitting when he said, “I’ve had enough of this, Chief Holden. I will remove you from this courtroom. I don’t care if you know this boy or not, you are a representative of this town, and I expect you to behave as such in my courtroom, do I make myself clear?”

“Sorry, your honor.” Though there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice. He kept his gaze glued on Darry, who didn’t so much as budge.

Mr. Moore looked between the two of them for a moment, then nodded. “That’s all anyways, Judge. Thank you, Chief.”

A couple of other witnesses came up to the stand, the bartender who served Darry that night, Mark, who lied through his teeth about being at the drive-in with the other boys who’d jumped Darry, but none of them said things that Soda didn’t already know. Finally, Mr. Tate stood up and said, “The Prosecution rests.”

Judge Nichols looked as his watch and said, “Alright gentleman, I think we have time for one more witness before lunch if that works for the two of you.”

Mr. Moore smiled, “That works just fine for us, your honor.”

“Alright then, Mr. Moore. Go ahead and call your witness.”

“I call Darrel Curtis Junior to the stand.”

Soda’s heart skipped a beat as he watched his brother walk up to the stand. If Soda didn’t know him, he wouldn’t have thought him nervous at all. He had that way about him, like he controlled every room he was in.

But Soda did know him and he could spot his tells a mile away. Like how he kept pulling at the lapels on his jacket, or the way he ran his hand through his hair. Or the way he kept checking the watch Pony had given him, as if the time would be any different now than it had been a few moments ago.

He wanted to offer Darry some support, but he wouldn’t look their way. Instead, he got to the witness stand, swore to tell the truth, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For the rest of the time he kept his eyes trained on Mr. Moore, as if pretending no one else was there.

“Mr. Curtis, do you mind if I call you Darrel?”

“Not at all, sir. Mr. Curtis was more of my dad’s thing anyway.”

Mr. Moore smiled. “Very good. Now, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself.”

Darry nodded. “I’m a roofer over at Cooper’s Construction during the day. In the evenings I work in their office going over the books and stuff.”

“Is it just you at home?”

“No sir, me and my two brothers.”

“And your parents?”

“They passed away a little over a year ago.”

“And if you don’t mind me saying, you look young.”

Darry had a ghost of a smile as he said, “Twenty-one sir.”

“Are you in school?”

“No sir, I had to drop out.”

“And why is that?”

Darry shrugged. “I have to make enough to keep my brothers going. And school takes time and costs money that I don’t have.”

Mr. Moore was trying to garner the jury’s sympathy, Soda realized. Or at the very least, make Darry seem more like a kid instead of some faceless hood from the East Side. Soda watched the jury, and thought that maybe a few of them had softened, just a hair, but what did he know? Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“If you don’t mind, I think we might switch gears a bit. Were you there the night of the robbery?”

Darry took a deep breath and said, “Yes sir.”

“Had you ever been to The Brewclub before?”

“No sir.”

“And why were you there that night?”

“I went to meet up with some friends.”

“Can you explain?”

And so Darry did. He told the court every gory detail. From getting stood up, to the beers he drank, to finding his truck busted up in the parking lot. He told them about being jumped, about being drug to the woods, about Paul showing up.

Soda watched the men and women on the jury, the way they leaned forward as Darry spoke, taking in every word.

He watched Chief Holden as he talked about Paul’s involvement. About how his son choked Darry, broke into The Brewclub, made Darry an accessory to his crime. He saw the way the older man’s expression twisted in anger, his face turning an ugly shade of red. But there was nothing he could do now. He already said his piece. All that was left was for him to sit and listen.

Then he turned and watched Darry. The way he held his gaze steady, sitting up tall as he talked about that night without a hint of fear. The story had become practiced in many ways. He no longer stuttered over the parts that embarrassed him, nor did his hands shake when he took a sip of water. But Soda could still hear the pain in his tone as he recited the details, the heartache that he had to be here at all.

Mr. Moore, for the most part, let Darry speak. He focused his story a couple of times, mostly when talking about Paul’s robbery. He asked, “What exactly did he say when he sat at the table with you?”

“He asked me what I’d do if someone killed one of my brothers. I didn’t get what he meant at first, but then he said, ‘I’m talking killed them, murdered in cold blood, how would you feel when you found out? Do you think you could recover from that, you think you could go back to your life? Or do you think you’d spend every day for the rest of your life waiting for the moment you could get revenge?’” 

Mr. Moore studied Darry for a moment and then said, “And you have no idea what that was in reference to?”

Darry shook his head, “No sir, that was all he said.”

Once his recounting was complete, Mr. Moore looked at the Judge and said, “No further questions your honor.”

Mr. Tate stood up slowly, he’d been watching the jury, too, Soda noticed. When he stood in front of Darry, he smiled.

“Well, Darrel, that’s quite a story you’ve got there.”

Darry held his gaze. “It’s not a story, sir, it’s the truth.”

Mr. Tate nodded. “Just curious, Mr. Curtis, would you say you have a bit of an angry streak?”

Darry furrowed his brow, confused. “No more than anyone else sir.”

“So you’ve never let your temper get the best of you?”

Darry considered the question for a moment, then eventually said, “On occasion, but I try to do my best.”

Mr. Tate smiled, then walked around to the prosecution’s table and flipped through the file on his desk. He found a sheet of paper, tapped it, then said, “I’d like to submit document 724 into evidence, your honor.”

Mr. Moore shuffled through the pages in his own coordinating file, and when he found the one in question his head snapped up, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to object to that, Judge.”

Judge Nichols nodded, “Alright then men, come up to the desk and we can sort this out.”

Soda watched Darry as he tried not to fidget in his seat.

“What do you think it is?” Two-Bit said.

“I don’t know, but Mr. Moore looks pretty pissed.” 

The three men spoke in low tones, and after a few moments went back to their tables. There was a tension in Mr. Moore’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Mr. Tate’s smile widened.

“Now Mr. Curtis, would you please tell me what this document is pertaining to?”

He handed the piece of paper to Darry, who read over it, face turning pale.

“Mr. Curtis?”

“It’s an investigation into my custody of Pony and Soda.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“After I— after I hit Ponyboy last year.”

Pony gripped Soda’s wrist so hard Soda felt like he’d lose circulation. But he didn’t blame his brother, he felt like he might faint right here in the courtroom.

“And what did you say about that temper of yours, Mr. Curtis? No worse than anyone else’s? I’d say slapping your youngest brother who you’re the sole provider for is a great deal worse than most people.”

Mr. Moore shot out of his seat. “Objection, your honor. We agreed he could bring it into evidence, but it’s beyond the scope for him to question Darrel about it.”

Before Judge Nichols could say anything, Mr. Tate waved him off. “That’s quite alright, your honor. I’ll move on.”

It didn’t matter anyway, the damage had been done. Whatever ground Mr. Moore had gained when introducing Darry had been lost with a single stroke. When Soda glanced up at the jury, they now looked at Darry with disdain.

Mr. Tate began pacing around the room like a cat stalking it’s prey. “You mentioned six boys who attacked you on the night of the robbery, correct?”

Darry tried to steady himself, but Soda could see he was off-kilter. “Yes sir.”

“One being Mark Harris, the boy that testified earlier to being at the drive-in that evening?”

“Yes sir.”

“Another being William Moore, who’s also testifying in this case, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“And he just so happens to be your lawyer’s son?”

People in the jury shifted with that new piece of information, but Darry didn’t so much as flinch.

“Yes sir.”

“That seems like a bit of a conflict of interest, does it not?”

Darry shrugged. “He was the only one willing to step forward and tell the truth. I can’t help who his dad is.”

“So we’re supposed to believe you and Mr. Moore’s son over four others who claim this never happened?”

Darry leveled his gaze. “I’m just telling the truth, sir. That’s all I can do. I can’t tell people what to believe.”

Mr. Tate nodded, then said, “It is my understanding that your were friends with Paul Holden, another boy you claimed attacked you, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Who happens to be Chief Holden’s son.”

“Yes sir.”

“He probably told you things, I’d imagine.”

Darry tilted his head and said, “I guess so, sir.”

“He could have told you the combination to that safe.”

“He could have opened it himself just as easy,” Darry’s voice was tight, Soda could hear the beginnings of aggravation bleeding through.

Mr. Tate gave him a look and said,“That’s not the question I asked, Mr. Curtis.”

Darry shook his head, trying to compose himself. “Right, sorry. He never told me the combination that I recall.”

“But it’s possible.”

“I guess.”

“So let’s look at the facts then. We have multiple witnesses placing you at The Brewclub the night of the robbery, your shoe found in the parking lot the next day, and your own admission that you were there getting drinks at the bar from eight until eleven, is this true?”

Darry’s gaze narrowed. “It’s not a crime to go out for drinks, Mr. Tate.”

But Mr. Tate ignored him. “We also have, by your own admission, that you were standing, in the restaurant, hours after it closed, with a window you yourself smashed in as well as a door you unlocked, correct?”

“Like I said, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You admitted to most of the crime right there, Mr. Curtis. Why not put this whole thing to rest? Tell the jury what we both already know.”

“There’s nothing—”

“That you were drowning in debt, that taking care of your two younger brothers was too much for a twenty-one year old to handle on a roofer’s salary.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You needed something to get you through, just a little bit to make things easier.”

“I would never—”

“And Paul told you about his dad’s nice gun he kept at Mr. Smith’s restaurant. And what did either of them need it for? They’ve got plenty of money, they don’t need some old gun just lying around in a safe somewhere. They wouldn’t even notice.”

“That’s not true.”

“Except when you got to The Brewclub, you got angry seeing all these people have the life you could have had. The one you had to leave behind so you could take care of your kid brothers. And you got so mad you couldn’t stand it, because we all know you have a temper, Mr. Curtis. I mean, you hit Ponyboy just a few months ago, what’s to say you didn’t lose it again?”

“But I didn’t.”

“So you decided to take matters into your own hands, and you smashed the windows, and you busted the tables, and you shattered the alcohol bottles onto the ground. And you took the money out of the register, and then you went back to the safe, the very safe your old buddy Paul told you about, and you found the combination on Mr. Smith’s desk, or maybe Paul told you that as well, and you stole the gun. And after all of that, it still didn’t matter. You were still the same washed up kid from the East Side you were before, except now you’re the criminal you were always destined to be. Isn’t that right, Darrel?”

“No,” Darry said, so much emotion behind the single word Soda thought his heart might shatter. 

But it didn’t matter what Darry said, because when Soda looked over at the jury he could see the distrust written across their faces.

They were going to send him to prison.

Mr. Tate nodded, then looked back at the judge. “No further questions your honor.”

Darry had a wild look in his eye as he tried to catch his breath. He sat there, edges frayed, and Soda watched as he tried to stitch himself back together. At least, Soda thought, this part was over. At least he’d never have to talk about that night again.

Judge Nichols sighed. “If that’s all, then I think we’ll break for lunch. I’ll see you all back here in one hour.”

Everyone stood as the jury left. Darry vanished before anyone could talk to him.

Soda saw Mr. Moore wince.

“You alright?" Soda asked him.

“Sometimes the people in this town,” he paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Just hate your brother got caught up in this mess.”

“It’s okay, sir, we got his back,” Pony said.

Mr. Moore pulled his gaze away from the door Darry had just walked through to look at their ragtag group. After a moment, he gave them a smile. “I’m sure you boys do. You all better go check on him, then. And tell him to remember what I said earlier, you got to trust the process. We’ll get what we need in the end.”

Soda nodded, even though he didn’t feel too sure about that himself. But he certainly wasn’t about to burden Darry with his own fears.

The boys ran through the courthouse looking for Darry, and eventually found him outside around back leaning against the brick wall. He ran a hand through his hair and Soda could see it shake.

“Hey Superman, how’s it hanging?” Two-Bit asked, coming up to pat him on the shoulder.

Darry flinched, just slightly, at the touch, so Two-Bit pulled back. He gave his friend a rueful smile and said, “Ain’t feeling too super right now, to be honest.”

“You did real good in there man. Had that jury hangin’ on every word,” Steve said.

Darry sighed. “I shouldn’t have let Mr. Tate get in my head so much.”

Soda was careful to give his brother some space, opting instead to give him a gentle smile, “Handled him better than me. I would have been jumping over that dang witness stand to really give him something to throw me in jail for.”

Darry laughed, and Soda saw something settle in him, not much, but enough. That was until something caught Darry’s eye, and Soda saw him stiffen. 

“What is it?” 

Darry pointed, and when Soda looked over he saw none other than Paul walking across the lot.

“What the hell is he doing here,” Two-Bit said, voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t he got anything better to do?” Pony asked.

“He’s gotta be here, he’s testifying,” Darry said, voice hollow.

All the boys turned to him in shock. “What? For the defense? I figured his old man would have had him go up for this Tate guy,” Steve said.

Darry shrugged. “Mr. Moore called him in as a hostile witness. Says he’s got some reason. I don’t know, he’s the last one testifying. That’s why he ain’t been in the courtroom all day, he’s not allowed to listen to everyone else’s testimony.”

They kept their eyes glued to Paul, but out of the corner of his eye, Soda saw Darry grimace.

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened to him. He looks rough.”

Soda looked at Paul again and realized his brother was right. Pale skin and dark smudges under his eyes, and a shakiness to his gait that seemed unnatural.

He looked nothing like the football star he’d been a few years ago. Now, there was something haunting about him, almost painful to look at.

He turned the corner and Darry shook his head pulling his focus back to the group. “Come on, we don’t got time to stand around listening to me whining, you boys need to eat something.”

Two-Bit smiled and said, “You better eat too Superman considering this might be your last meal as a free man.”

Soda was about to tell Two-Bit to shut it, but Darry surprised him. He laughed. A tension broke, just a bit, for his older brother. And Soda thought that maybe he’d make it through the day.

“Watch your mouth, Two-Bit. Or I’ll find a way to get you sent to prison along with me.”

But as they walked to the restaurants a few blocks from the courthouse, something stirred in Soda’s chest he couldn’t quite shake no matter how hard he tried. Something about seeing Paul left him with an uncomfortable feeling churning in his stomach, a sense of dread that seemed inescapable.

He tried to ignore it, and enjoy what time he could with his friends, but when he looked at Darry the feeling overwhelmed him. And he found himself wondering, not for the first time if the brother that left this trial would be the same as the one that came in this morning.

Chapter Text

“I call William Moore to the stand.”

Soda didn’t know William all that well, but as he made his way up to the witness stand there was something steady in the older boy’s gaze that surprised Soda. He wasn’t sure if it was because William was a lawyer’s son or if it was because he felt so sure in his decision to be there, but when the jury looked at him in contempt, he seemed utterly unbothered by it. And not in the arrogant way that Mr. Smith and Chief Holden had, but simply a confidence that Soda couldn’t help but admire, even if he still couldn’t forgive the older boy.

Mr. Moore stood up and walked around the defendant’s table, leaning against the edge. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied his son for a long time. William held his gaze.

“Why don’t we start off by addressing the elephant in the room, what do you say, William?”

The boy nodded, “That’s fine by me, sir.”

“Good, good. Well, the simplest question is this, is it true that you are my son?”

“William gave a slight smile, “Yes sir, I am.”

“Has that affected your involvement in testifying today?”

“Of course not. I would have testified no matter who Darry’s lawyer was.”

“Have I coached you in any way about your answers?”

“No sir.”

“Is this a story you’re proud to sit up on the witness stand and tell?”

William glanced over at the jury before saying, “No sir. But it’s the right thing to do. Darry deserves that much. Especially after, well, everything that happened.”

Mr. Moore studied him for a long time and then nodded. 

“Okay William, let’s start at the beginning. How do you know Darrel?”

“Oh, me and Darry go way back. We played football together from 6th grade all the way through high school. We always got on real good. Everyone loved him.”

“What makes you say that?”

William shrugged. “He was just one of those guys, you know? Boy of the Year, captain of our football team. One of those people you couldn’t help but like.”

“Do you still hang out with him?”

“No sir.”

“Then what changed?”

“Nothing bad, just when we graduated we all sort of drifted apart I guess. Most of us went off to college. Darry’s family didn’t have as much money as the rest of us so he stayed in town to go to community college. About two years later I heard he got a scholarship to play football at the University of Oklahoma, honestly, I was always surprised he didn’t get one out of high school, he was a crazy good quarterback. Anyway, he and Paul were planning to start in the fall when his parents died.”

“And why did that prevent him from going to Oklahoma?”

“He has two younger brothers he had to look out for. There was no way he was going to school and raising them. I mean gosh, I think the youngest was only thirteen? I always thought that took real guts giving up so much of yourself for your family. I don’t know if I could have done it, to be honest.”

“So you didn’t see him again?”

“I tried to make it back for his parents' funeral but I couldn’t get out of my classes. Other than that, we talked about meeting up once or twice but honestly, he never had time. He was working too much.”

“Did that ever bother you?”

William laughed. “Of course not. I couldn’t imagine doing all the stuff he was doing. Trying to keep two teens going, pay off a mortgage, holding down two jobs.” William shrugged. “He had like, real adult issues going on. I was still worried about passing English. We weren’t living the same lives anymore.”

“So how did all of this lead to the incident on July 1st?”

“Right, well. There was another boy in our group, Paul Holden. That’s who Darry was planning on going to Oklahoma with. He and Darry were always real good friends. They had some sort of falling out when Paul went to college and Darry didn’t.”

“Do you know why?”

“Objection, your honor. Hearsay,” Mr. Tate cut in.

“I’ll sustain it," Judge Nichols said.

Mr. Moore nodded. “To your knowledge did the two boys see each other again after their falling out?”

“Yes sir, at the rumble.”

“Can you explain?”

“I’m going to have to go back a little bit for it to make sense, sir, if that’s alright.”

Mr. Moore folded his arms across his chest. "I think we got time.”

William sighed and looked towards the jury. “It sounds stupid after everything that happened but where you grow up matters in this town. If you’re from the East Side? Then you’re a Greaser. You’re from the West Side? Then you're a Soc. That’s just the way things work. Darry’s always been a funny one because his family was from the East Side, his brothers are Greasers through and through, but we all just kind of forgot about that when we hung out with him. I mean, sometimes you’d remember, like when he didn’t get a nice car like the rest of us when he turned sixteen, but I never really thought of Darry as a Greaser. He was just my friend.

“So there was this kid, Bob Sheldon, a true blue Soc. He and some other boys had attacked Darry’s youngest brother, Ponyboy. I don’t know all the details, but from what I understand it was pretty bad, nearly killed the kid, they were drowning him in the fountain over at Pershing Park. Until another one of Ponyboy’s friends, a Greaser, Johnny something, ended up stabbing Bob to save Ponyboy. He killed Bob, and he was one of us, you know? So some Socs got pretty mad. Decided we needed to have a rumble— or a fight, that is— to get even.”

“And how did that go?”

William gave him a rueful grin. “Not too good for us Socs, let me tell you. Those Greasers can really pack a punch. Darry especially, I mean, the guy’s been roofing for the past year, he’s no joke. But that’s the first time Darry and Paul had seen each other. The two of them ended up fighting, and Darry really did a number on Paul. Paul was really angry about that afterward.”

“Did you witness Paul being angry yourself?”

William nodded. “Right after the fight I was helping him get cleaned up and you could just tell, kept saying stuff about Darry I thought went too far, calling him all sorts of names.”

“And how does this tie into the events of the night of the robbery?”

“Bob dying wasn’t Ponyboy’s fault, but a lot of Socs couldn’t let it go, stayed angry at the kid especially since we lost the rumble so bad. But no one could really mess with him because he was Darry Curtis’s little brother, and if any one of us Socs had forgotten how tough Darry was, we’d just been reminded at the rumble.”

“Was Darry violent?”

“No, nothing like that, but he protected his own. I mean look at the guy, he’s built like a tank.”

That elicited a laugh from the gallery, even Darry had the ghost of a smile. 

“A few weeks before July 1st, our group was all hanging out, having a few drinks, somehow we got talking about Bob, how sad it was he died. How senseless the whole thing was. Paul said the Greasers didn’t get it. Still needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Did you agree?”

William shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I did, we’d been drinking a lot of beer, I’d just seen Bob’s mom a few days earlier at the grocery store, and she was all torn up about everything. You could look at her and just see it. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. So maybe, yeah. I thought the Greasers should see what it was like to have one of your own suffer like that.”

“And how did Darry’s name come up?”

“It was Paul’s idea. Darry’s real tough like I said, and he’s a leader for the Greasers in the same way he was for us back in high school. It made the most sense for it to be him because it’d send the clearest message. Plus, Darry was the only one we all knew. We figured it’d be easier to get him alone without it looking suspicious.”

“So how did you convince him to meet up?”

“I called him, told him some of the football guys from the class of ’65 were getting together having a reunion of sorts. Couldn’t do it without our captain.”

“And he agreed? Even after the rumble?”

“Oh yeah, no reason for him not to. He didn’t really have a problem with us specifically, it was just a Soc versus Greaser thing. At the end of the day he had to fight for his brothers. But it wasn’t anything personal.”

“Did you mention Paul was going to be there?”

“No, I knew there was too much bad blood between them.”

“So what was the plan for the night?”

“I told him to get to The Brewclub at eight. The woods stretch on for miles out back, so we all hid back there. There were six of us, but we were still worried Darry could take us, so we figured we better let him get a few drinks in him before we started roughing him up. Nothing major, just enough to scare him and send a message to his friends.” William paused for the first time, something shifted in his expression, almost frightened. “But it got way out of control.”

“What happened?”

“Darry was inside longer than we planned, so some of the guys got bored and started drinking. They got a little rowdy, a little intense. You know how guys can be when they get together and have a few. It was okay at first, but then a few drinks became a few more. I don’t know what happened to them, it was like those guys felt invincible or something. Started listing off all the things Darry had done wrong. But then it became bigger than Darry, it was every Greaser that had ever wronged them. Ever looked at them funny, ever took a step out of line. They got real mad. Paul most of all.

“So they decided roughing him up wasn’t enough, they needed to mess with his truck. Slashed his tires, busted his windows, that hadn’t been the plan before.”

Mr. Moore’s voice was cool when he said, “And what about you William, what were you doing?”

William grimaced. “I wasn’t as drunk as them, and I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I don’t know how to explain it. It was like we were on a different planet sitting out back in those woods. It was almost intoxicating, I felt separate from myself, like everything mattered more. Like every slight had become life and death. So despite knowing it was wrong, I joined in, too.”

Mr. Moore had walked over to the window during William’s speech. It was the first hint of emotion Soda had seen on his expression, and it looked sad. For the first time, Soda found himself feeling sorry for the older man. Listening to his son’s worst sins, having to fight to correct them.

After a moment, the lawyer said, “And when Darry finally came outside?”

William shook his head, something haunted in his expression. “It was bad. Hours— maybe even years of pent up anger and aggression seemed to explode out of the guys. Grudges they held against every Greaser they’d ever met, and Darry took the brunt of it all.”

He told the jury of the attack. How they took him to the woods and sliced him up. How Paul tried to get him to fight and he wouldn’t. How Paul nearly killed him.

There was something gruesome about hearing the hurt they dealt his brother from someone who could remember it so clearly. Darry’s recounting of it was fuzzy, hazed by pain and the strong desire to forget. But as the words escaped William's mouth, the attack somehow felt more cruel. More brutal. More sinister.

“At some point, Darry said my name. It was like it brought me back to myself or snapped me out of some trance. I don’t know how else to explain it without sounding crazy, but that’s what happened. Then I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time, and I realized we were going too far. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen.

“When Paul choked him—” William paused, as if trying to find the words to explain. “Golly, I thought we’d killed him. I honestly thought he was dead. I didn’t see him breathe for a second.”

“And what did you do when you realized how badly he was hurt?” Mr. Moore said, voice quiet.

“We took him up to the parking lot, we hoped someone would find him.”

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

William shook his head, a far off look in his eye. “I tried, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They were too worried we’d get in trouble. But that shouldn’t have mattered. I should have taken him anyway. I’ll regret that the rest of my life.”

“Did you think he’d survive the night?”

William paused, looked over at Darry, whose own hands were shaking. Darry hadn’t looked up at him once.

“No.”

Soda wasn’t sure what it was about William that made him feel so trustworthy, but he did. Maybe it was the rawness of the testimony, the haunted look in his eye. Maybe it was just William. One of those guys you wanted to believe. But none of that mattered. Because it didn’t matter if Soda believed him, he already knew it was the truth, all that mattered was what the jury thought. And for the first time, a few of them seemed to soften. They looked at Darry without scorn in their eyes. It was the first glimmer of hope Soda had felt since the trial had started. And Soda thought maybe, just maybe they might believe him.

When Mr. Tate crossed examined him he did everything he could to destroy the trust the jury had in William. Questioned him on his loyalties to his father, why they should believe him when no one else came forward. Soda could tell William had grown up around lawyers, he knew all the right ways to answer, all the things to say. 

Towards the end, Mr. Tate said, “You said you left him there that night? Correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“So it’s entirely possible that he broke into The Brewclub and robbed it after you left?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Mr. Tate smiled. “How could you know with one hundred percent certainty when you yourself weren’t there?”

William’s expression hardened. “Because I know what Darry was like when we left, sir. If I’m being honest, if you’d asked me that day I would have thought the trial I’d be testifying at would have been the murder of Darrel Curtis, not his involvement in The Brewclub robbery. I spent the next day throwing up and scanning for his name in the newspaper because I just knew we killed him. When Mark kicked him in the head in the parking lot—” William shook his head, emotion had built up in his voice, he took a breath and said, “So no, Mr. Tate, I don’t think Darry could have broken into The Brewclub, I’m surprised he was able to move afterward.”

Mr. Tate quickly sat down after that.

It was Andy Thompson who took the stand after William, the doctor Mr. Cooper brought over the morning after Darry was jumped. 

“And how did you get involved, Dr. Thompson?”

“My friend, Jeff Cooper, is Darrel’s boss. He called me and asked me to do a favor for him. Said that one of the guys that worked for him had gotten hurt, didn’t have the money for a hospital, asked if I’d check on him.”

“Do you do this sort of thing for Mr. Cooper often?”

Dr. Thompson shrugged. “I’ve done it once or twice, usually for guys with sprained ankles or colds who just don’t have the money to go to the doctor. It’s not a common problem for his employees as far as I can tell. Mr. Cooper pays his guys pretty well, but some people have extenuating circumstances in their home life, like Darrel does, and Mr. Cooper tries to look after them when he can.”

“And what happened when you saw Darrel?”

Dr. Thompson shook his head. “It wasn’t anything like what I expected. Gosh, that kid. He was a mess. Truly. He should have already been in the emergency room, not lying on his couch. It was horrible.”

“Can you explain the extent of his injuries?”

“I couldn’t run any test without taking him to a hospital, but I know he had a bad sprain in his right ankle, probably a concussion based on how badly he’d been hit along his temple. Too many cuts and bruises to count, and horrible swelling and bruising along his neck, bad enough I’m surprised he was able to keep breathing, honestly. And that was just the stuff I could see. Who knows if he had any sort of internal injuries. I thought he needed a hospital.”

“Then why didn’t you push for him to go?”

“I did, I almost refused to look at him, told Mr. Cooper he was crazy for even bringing me. If this kid dies, I said, I don’t want his blood on my hands, you know? But then his brothers were there, watching out for him, made me realize what was happening.”

“And what was that, Dr. Thompson?”

The doctor looked out at the jury. “He’s just a kid, you know? No parents, no one looking out for him. Doesn’t have any money, trying to keep his brothers out of the foster system. And it wasn’t just his brothers, there were two other boys there, I don’t know if they were his friends or what, but they were both younger than Darrel and comfortable in the house too. And just as protective of Darrel as his brothers were. You could tell he looks out for them as well.”

Dr. Thompson got a serious look in his eye as he pulled his gaze towards Darry. “He just needed someone to look out for him, too. Make sure he was okay and not make it harder on him in the process. I mean honestly, what was he going to do if I made him go to the hospital? He couldn’t afford it, he’d be up to his eyeballs in debt.”

Dr. Thompson shook his head and continued. “They're kids, all of them, him included. I mean, twenty-one and raising two brothers on his own? He just needed someone to take some of the burden off. If stitching him up and making sure he wasn’t going to bleed out did that, then that’s what I’d do. And I checked on him nearly every day after until I was sure he wasn’t going to kill over from some underlying condition. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. And the kid made it through.”

“Do you think it’s possible he robbed The Brewclub in his condition?”

Dr. Thompson shook his head. “I honestly don’t see how.”

When Mr. Tate questioned him on cross, he pushed Dr. Thompson on not taking him to the hospital. How could he know any of this without the proper testing done?

But Dr. Thomspon handled the questions with ease, never once backing down from his decision, making Mr. Tate seem foolish for even asking the questions in the first place.

Eventually, Mr. Tate, who hadn’t made any headway since lunch, was growing frustrated, Soda could hear it in his voice. Could see it in the tension pulling through his shoulders. He said, with more bite than necessary, “How could you possibly know he couldn’t rob The Brewclub in his condition, you weren’t there. Isn’t that a bit presumptuous on your part?”

Dr. Thompson studied the lawyer for a moment, then leaned forward in his seat and said, “Let me say this. If he did it after he was attacked, then his blood would have been smeared all over that restaurant. I mean, was in the house the next day, the kid ruined their sofa, there’s no way they got the blood out. And I sat right over there this morning and listened to Chief Holden’s testimony, and he mentioned blood found, but none of it inside the restaurant. Only out in the parking lot, and in the phone booth. Both places Darrel testified to being at. So how does that work? How could he be bleeding out that bad and not get a drop of it inside The Brewclub?”

The questioning continued for a while longer, but Soda pulled his gaze back towards the jury and was shocked as he watched them. They still had glares and narrowed gazes, but something funny had happened since lunch. Instead of pointing them towards Darry, they were pointing them towards Mr. Tate. As if he had become their enemy in all of this. Soda watched as one juror glanced towards Darry, an older woman with white hair and thick glasses, and if Soda didn’t know any better, he’d say there was something close to sympathy in her gaze.

“I think he might actually have a shot,” Pony whispered. Soda glanced at him and realized he was watching the jury as well.

“Yeah, they ain’t loving Mr. Tate right now, that’s for sure,” Steve added.

Pony was going to say more, but Two-Bit cut in. “Hey, watch what you say, you’re gonna jinx it for us.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Since when are you all superstitious?”

“Since always, why do you think I’m so good at poker?”

Soda shushed him, looking back towards the judge. “Will you two shut up, they’re calling the next witness.”

Mr. Moore gave Judge Nichols a tight smile and said, “I call Paul Holden to the stand.”

Every head in the courtroom turned to watch Paul walk in. Soda had thought he’d looked bad before, but here, up close and under the fluorescent lights of the courtroom, he looked even worse. Despite the cool air, his face was slick with sweat, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. His eyes bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days.

Darry glanced up at him, fleeting and quick, but enough to get a glimpse of his former friend, and Soda saw him wince at the sight. He knew his brother was wondering the same thing he was. That everyone was.

What the hell happened to Paul?

His hand shook the whole time they swore him in, and the jury watched him with guarded expressions. He was the key to this entire story, they all realized. Whether Darry was guilty or innocent all laid on how Paul’s testimony swayed them, how convincing he could be. And even though he may look rough, Soda still didn’t hold his breath. People always wanted to believe guys like Paul Holden no matter what evil lurked beneath the surface.

Mr. Moore tapped his fingers on the table in front of him, studying Paul for a long time. Paul, for his part, wouldn’t meet his gaze. His eyes kept flickering towards Darry, then away just as quickly, as if so much as a glance towards his friend burned him.

Darry kept his head trained down, pulling the chain of the pocket watch through his fingers again.

Eventually, Mr. Moore gave him a tight smile. “Mr. Holden, I think we have a lot to discuss this afternoon. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Paul shrugged. “I couldn’t say, you got the questions.”

Mr. Moore tilted his head, considering the young man for a moment, before nodding. “Well, best not to beat around the bush then. Let’s get started with an easy one. What was your relationship with Darrel?”

Paul’s gaze pulled towards him, eyes narrowed in distrust. “What do you mean?”

“How did you two know each other?”

Paul shrugged. “He was the quarterback for our team, nothing more. Met in sixth grade. He was just always around.”

Darry’s hand tightened around the chain in his hand for a moment before relaxing again. 

Mr. Moore continued. “Really? Because there’s been mention of a falling out between the two of you. That seems pretty big for just some guy you played football with.”

Paul’s gaze darkened. “Darry made promises he couldn’t keep. Nothing more to it than that.”

Mr. Moore leaned forward in his seat. “And what were you doing the night of July 1st?”

“I was at the drive-in with some friends.”

“You weren’t at The Brewclub?”

“No, why would I be?”

“William testified otherwise.”

“Yeah, well William’s your son, so I guess he would say whatever you wanted him to.”

A few hours ago before lunch, the jury would have been nodding right along with Paul. But now when Soda glanced their way, he realized they didn’t like the answer. Arms crossed and gazes narrowed as they listened to Paul. They’d liked William, he’d felt honest and open when he took the stand. And objective in a way that was impossible for Darry under the circumstances. Plus he had one thing going for him Darry never could, he was a Soc, and the people on that jury wanted to believe one of their own.

But Paul felt nervous and closed off like he was seconds from snapping. There was an uncomfortable tension with him on the witness stand that felt electric in the room. Soda couldn’t explain it, but he felt himself cringing back from the older boy's answers, worried about what would come out of his mouth, or what might make him snap. He wished that Mr. Moore would hurry up and be done with him, maybe then Paul would calm down.

“I want to take things back a little bit Paul if it’s all the same to you. How do you know Mr. Smith?”

But Mr. Tate cut in before Paul could answer. “Objection, relevance.”

Mr. Moore turned towards the judge and said, “Just laying the groundwork, judge. I’ve got to start somewhere.”

Judge Nichols considered him for a moment, then eventually nodded. “Alright, overruled. But tread lightly, Mr. Moore.”

He nodded towards Paul and said, “If you’ll go ahead.”

“Mr. Smith and my dad, Chief Holden, are friends, go way back. Since high school, I think my dad said once.”

“So you’d say you’re familiar with The Brewclub.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, grew up going there. Used to hang out there after schools some days if my parents couldn’t pick me up.”

“And why wouldn’t your parents be able to pick you up?”

“My dad had to work all the time and Mom—” he stuttered over the word, “She got sick a lot. Couldn’t even get out of bed some days.”

Mr. Moore nodded. His voice was gentle when he said, “And after your mother left, was Mr. Smith around a lot then?”

Paul nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr. Tate’s grating voice cut in with, “Objection, relevance again. And frankly beyond the scope.”

Mr. Moore sighed. “If you just give me a couple more questions judge, I’ll clear it up.”

“You’re pushing it, Mr. Moore.”

The Lawyer smiled, “Wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t.”

Judge Nichols studied him for a long time as if trying to read Mr. Moore’s mind. Eventually, he nodded and said, “Go ahead, overruled. But watch yourself, Mr. Moore.”

The lawyer gestured for Paul to continue. “Yeah, he and my dad got real close after she was gone. Dad was over there all the time, I stayed at The Brewclub whenever I wasn’t at school.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Paul shrugged. “Not really, it’s not like the guy liked me that much.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always hated kids, but he really hated me. Said I was a nuisance, an inconvenience to the customers, that sort of stuff.”

“Where would you hang out while you were there, at the bar?”

Paul shook his head. “No, he didn’t want me out there with the customers, I was always in his office. That was the other reason he complained, he said I was in his way. Like he ever did any real work back there anyway.”

Soda saw Mr. Smith stiffen, gaze hardening as he stared at Paul. Though Soda was glad Mr. Smith was catching some heat, he had to admit he was surprised at Paul’s words. There was so much anger painted across them, you could hear it in every inflection, every shift of his tone. Paul practically shook with a pent-up rage Soda couldn’t understand. It was making the boy sloppy like he’d say anything just to lash out at whoever hurt him.

Maybe that was a good thing, he thought, or maybe someone else would get caught in the crossfire.

“Did you ever notice the safe in the office?” Mr. Moore asked.

“Of course, that thing was huge.”

“Did you ever open it up?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smith kept documents and stuff in there. Sometimes he got me to grab them for him.”

“So he told you the combination?”

Paul shrugged. “Yeah.”

Pony sat up straight next to Soda, when he turned towards him, his eyes were bright with hope. “That’s gotta be something, right?”

Soda shrugged. He still wasn’t ready to hope, not quite. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many people Soda had to count on to keep his brother out of jail.

Mr. Moore switched gears and said, “What about Darry, did he ever go over there with you after school?”

Paul scoffed. “No way. If Mr. Smith didn’t like me, he hated Darry.”

“How come?”

Paul shrugged, “Because he’s a Greaser, I guess. But to be fair I don’t think he liked his dad much either. Anytime I brought Darry up he always had some sort of weird comment about Mr. Curtis.”

“And why would you bring Darry up?”

Paul blinked, seeming to come back to himself for the first time. “Huh?”

“You said you weren’t friends before, so why would you bring him up to Mr. Smith?”

Paul shrugged, a cagey look in his eye. “Like I said, we were on the football team together, hung around with some of the same guys, it just sort of happened.”

“So you never would have talked to Darry about The Brewclub, since you weren’t friends?”

“Of course not.”

“So you wouldn’t have told him about the safe in the back?”

“No. Are you not hearing me?”

“So you never would have told him the combination to the safe.”

“No,” The word came out of Paul sharp and quick before he could think better of it, so determined to separate himself from Darry. But a second later he must have recognized his mistake because he clamped his mouth shut. His gaze flickered over Darry, then away again.

But he couldn’t take it back now, everyone in the room latched onto the admission. Soda glanced over at Chief Holden, who was clamping the edge of his seat so fiercely Soda was shocked the wood wasn’t splintering.

Mr. Moore gave a slight smile. “While we’re on the subject of the safe, why don’t we talk a little bit about what was stolen.”

Mr. Moore got the court reporter to read off Mr. Smith’s testimony again, “It’s a nineteenth-century Colt single action army revolver. Mother of Pearl handle, and engraving along the barrel.”

“Now, Paul, are you familiar with this gun?”

“I’ve seen it once or twice.”

“Did you know it was your father’s gun?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know he was planning on giving it to you?”

Paul scoffed. “No clue. Probably not true anyways.”

The statement seemed to catch Mr. Moore off guard. “Why would you say that?”

“Dad plans to do a lot of things.” There was heat in his voice again, something angry and bitter. So electric it seemed to buzz through the air.

“Do you know when he left it there?”

Paul paused, seeming to roll the words around in his head, then finally said, “After Mom— after she left.”

“Did he tell you why he took it to Mr. Smith’s?”

Paul looked over at his dad, something empty in his expression. Chief Holden’s own face hardened. “I don’t think he wanted it in the house anymore.”

“Any clue why?”

“It reminded him of something he wanted to forget.” Something had shifted in Paul. There was something far off and distant in his gaze, if Soda didn’t know any better, he’d think the boy was about to cry. He had eyes only for his father now. Chief Holden’s own expression held nothing but disdain.

Mr. Moore pulled his chair around so he was sitting close to Paul, looking up at the boy, just slightly. There was a tenderness to his voice Soda didn’t understand when he asked, “Do you like the woods out behind The Brewclub?”

Paul shrugged, still watching his father. “They’re alright.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “You know, when I was a boy, there was no Brewclub out there, just miles and miles of woods. There was a rumor back then, that a girl had been killed by some teens. They didn’t want to get in trouble, so they buried her out there. Boys used to go out there to try and find her body. But no one ever could. Became a sort of ghost story, you know? Said she haunted the woods, that she was lonely. If you weren’t careful, she’d kill you so you could stay with her forever. Me and my friends grew out of it, of course, but I know boys kept doing it, you and Darry probably went out there a time or two when you were kids, yeah?”

There was something in Paul’s expression that made Soda’s chest ache. Still, he stared at his father. “Once or twice.”

“You know something, Paul? A lot of stuff can happen in those woods and no one would hear a thing. A boy can get beaten near to death and no one would know.” Mr. Moore paused, then said the next part so quietly, so gently, Soda had to lean forward to hear it. As if the words were meant for Paul only.

“A mother could get killed.”

Mr. Tate stood up, voice like a clap of thunder. “Objection! This is ridiculous, there’s absolutely no relevance.”

“Sustained, Mr. Moore honestly, can we try to stay on topic?”

Mr. Moore sighed and went to stand up, surely to apologize to the judge, but Paul reached out and grabbed his wrist. Mr. Moore froze, looking down at his wrist then back up to Paul.

In a voice just as quiet as Mr. Moore’s had been, he asked, “Did they ever find her?”

Mr. Moore blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“That girl those boys killed in the woods. Did they ever find her body?”

Mr. Moore shook his head and gave the boy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “No, Paul, I don’t think they did.”

“He could.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Smith.”

“I don’t understand—”

“His dad owned that land, he grew up in those woods, he knows every root and ditch. That’s what he always told me when I was a kid. That’s why they buried her there. They knew no one could find her.”

“Buried who, Paul?”

Paul blinked, and finally pulled his gaze away from his father, and studied Mr. Moore as he said, “My mom. Don’t you get it?”

Chaos erupted in the courtroom. People talking over one another, Mr. Tate yelling out objections. Gasps of shock littering the conversation. Mr. Smith paled, Chief Holden sputtered in rage. Soda felt his own mouth fall open as he heard Two-Bit shout, “What the hell did he just say?” 

Darry had pulled his gaze up towards Paul for the first time. His fingers were clenched tight around the chain of the pocket watch, Soda could see it shake all the way back in his seat.

Judge Nichols slammed his gavel down on the bench over and over, but still, people wouldn’t settle.

The only thing that calmed them down was Paul who kept talking as if the words were spilling out of him. People latched on, desperate not to miss a single word. “I don’t think Dad meant to kill her, but once he did it there was nothing he could do to take it back. She was going to leave him. Take me with her, she told be that before. I wanted us to leave so bad, he beat the hell out of her every day. Me too when he was done with her. And then one day I woke up and he said she left. I should have known then, but it was so much easier to believe him. That meant she was out there alive somewhere.”

“Paul, it’s okay son, just breathe,” Mr. Moore said.

Paul shook his head, “He shot her with that revolver he kept at Mr. Smith’s. That’s why it was there, then they buried her out back in the woods.”

But then another booming voice cut through the crowd, Chief Holden’s. Face red and anger pulling his body tight like a bowstring, “Paul Holden, If you don’t shut your mouth.”

Paul turned towards him, eyes wide, something missing there, something desperate. “You’ll what dad? You’ll kill me? Then do it, I wish you’d done it a long time ago.”

Chief Holden stood and turned towards the judge, “Can we get him off the stand? He’s been unstable for months, stirring up trouble, getting into fights all over town.”

“Only because I found out what you did!” Paul said, his own face turning red. He looked around the room as if searching for an ally, but he could find none, everyone was too shocked.

Chief Holden continued. “I tried to do right by him, I did. I mean, I did my best to protect him from his mother, but what can you do? He’s still got her blood running through his veins.”

Paul stood up then, pulling away from Mr. Moore. He seemed to loom above the courtroom in his place on the witness stand. “Don’t you dare talk about her, you have no right.”

But Chief Holden continued on as if Paul had never spoken, desperation and anger peppering his words, “I mean, the woman was a nutcase through and through. Couldn’t hold down a job, had days she just laid in bed all day. Sinking spells is what she called them. In and out of mental hospitals. I tried everything for her but nothing ever worked. Thought after she left Paul might get his act together. Get some of that Holden pride in there, but turns out he’s a wack job just like his mother.”

That shattered something in Paul. Soda could see it in his expression, it splintered like broken glass. He screamed a desperate, gut-wrenching sound that made Soda’s chest ache, and before anyone could understand what was happening, he jumped over the witness stand and pulled something out of his jacket in one swift motion. He sprinted towards Chief Holden who took a single step back, more out of shock than fear, but it was too late, Paul had an arm around his neck and something pressed into his head.

Chief Holden had gone rigid, it took Soda a minute to understand why, and when he did his blood ran cold. Paul had a gun to his head, the same gun stolen from Mr. Smith’s office, Soda could see the white Mother of Pearl handle from where he sat, the engravings along the barrel.

“You did this to me, don’t you dare blame Mom,” Paul spat, face red and eyes aflame.

Chief Holden tried to pull away, but Paul pressed the gun into his head even harder, “Don’t move Dad, I swear I’ll kill you, do you not get that?”

“Paul, son, please—”

“And wouldn’t that be poetic? To die by the same gun you used to kill Mom? I’m sure she’d appreciate the irony.”

Soda could see Chief Holden’s fear from here, it was etched across every line in his face. He looked like a small child now, frightened. Like he wanted to call out for his own mom.

“This was all your fault. All of it!” Paul continued, voice shaking. “You killed her, Dad. You killed her then you spent the next eight years taking it out on me. And you—” he turned his head so he was looking at Mr. Smith who flinched back, cowering low in his seat. Paul’s grip tightened on the gun, “You helped him cover it up, you bastard. Where is she buried out in those woods of yours, huh? Where would I have to go to find my mom’s body?”

“I— I don’t—”

Paul pulled back the safety and said, “Tell me! Or do you want to die too?”

Mr. Smith’s eyes were wide with fear, he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “We— She’s buried about a mile south of The Brewclub right next to the creek. There’s an old oak tree, she’s under that.”

“James shut the hell up!” Chief Holden snapped.

“What do you want me to do, Cecil? Let him kill you? Kill me? He’s your damn kid.”

“Dad for once in your life will you shut up,” Paul said.

Chief Holden was pleading now, desperate. “Paul, my boy, you can’t do this—”

But Paul wouldn’t let him finish. “You let me think I was worthless, that I was nothing, that my own mom would leave me. That she thought I was a monster like you. Do you know what that did to me? Having you berate me day in and day out? And then I finally find out the truth. She never left at all, you killed her before she ever got the chance to be free. And now you think I’m worth a damn because I’ve got your life in my hands? It’d be so easy to pull the trigger, Dad. And honestly? I should. This town would certainly be a better place without Chief Holden walking the streets.”

But then, someone’s voice, so unexpected, broke through the room. “Paul, man, put the gun down, he ain’t worth it.”

Darry, his former best friend. Soda thought he’d be sick. He’d stood up to face Paul, hands raised in surrender as if to say I’m not a threat. Soda wanted to beg him to sit down, hide behind the table like everyone else had. But he knew his brother. He knew Darry. There wasn’t a world where he wouldn’t try to help his friend.

Paul kept the gun trained toward Chief Holden, but managed a glance toward Darry. “How would you know Darry, you left! You don’t know what he did to me every single day. And where were you, huh? You promised me we’d get out and you bailed on me, left me to find this out on my own.”

Darry’s expression was broken. “I know Paul, I know okay? And I’m sorry for all that. But this? What you’re doing? You kill him and he wins Paul. You kill Mr. Smith and they win. You’ll spend the rest of your life paying for their sins.”

Paul took a shaky breath, and Soda realized he was crying. “I had a plan. You know that, right? It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. You might have had a few months in prison, but nothing serious. I would have gotten you out of it, you gotta believe me.”

Darry nodded. “I know Paul. I know you wouldn’t have let me take the fall for you.”

The gun against Chief Holden’s head shook. “I could have figured it out. I was mad at you, but not mad enough to send you away for murder. But then that stupid brother of yours had to get himself involved and my dad just wouldn’t let it go. It’s not fair!”

Darry’s voice was gentle. “What’s not fair, Paul?”

“He and Mr. Smith would be dead and I could have buried them out in those same damn woods they buried Mom in. And no one would have known. Or if they did it wouldn’t have mattered, I would have been long gone before they figured it out.”

“But it’s a good thing that didn’t happen, right? Now you don’t have to go to jail for murder. That’s good Paul.”

Paul laughed, a grating, screeching sound that made Soda’s head hurt. “What does it matter? I’m already going to jail for breaking into The Brewclub.”

Darry shrugged. “Yeah for a few months, maybe a year, not the rest of your life. Besides, that doesn’t even matter. What’s killing them going to do? They’ll be dead man, they won’t ever have to face up to what they did.”

“It’s better than them getting to walk away. They’ve always walked away. No one can touch my dad, he’s the damn Tulsa police chief!”

Darry shook his head. “He won’t be able to walk away from this man, not now. Not with everyone here listening to your story. Not with Mr. Smith telling everyone where they buried her body. So what, you get a year in prison for all this, then you get to get out and live your life and they’ll still be rotting in some cell. But you kill them? Your dad wins Paul, and he doesn’t deserve to win. Not again.”

Darry studied Paul for a long time and must have seen something soften, because he took a slight step forward and said, voice quiet, “Come on Paul. We can figure this out, just like everything else before. It’s you and me, yeah?”

Darry opened his palm and slowly held out his hand so Paul could see it. From where Soda sat he could see a scar that ran across his hand. It was a motion that must have some significance between the two Soda didn’t understand because finally, something in Paul broke. He pulled his gaze away from Darry’s hand and back towards his face, searching for something in his expression. The grip on his gun loosened, not much, but enough.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

Darry smiled. “That’s okay man, I don’t either. But we can figure something out.”

Paul studied Darry, and Soda thought he’d really let go of the gun, the grip loosened even more.

Apparently, Chief Holden could feel it, because the second the gun turned away, he made a grab for it. Paul jumped, grip tightening again as rage contorted his features, and the two began to struggle for control.

“Paul—”

“Stop!”

“Don’t—”

BANG

Soda had only heard a gunshot a few times in his life, and certainly never one shot indoors. It was loud, possibly the loudest thing Soda had ever heard. The sound of it bounced off the walls, ricocheted through every person in the room. Soda could hear nothing but the sound of it piercing his eardrums. He could see that people were making sounds, he watched a woman’s mouth open in a scream, he saw Two-Bit say something to Steve, he knew there must be the sound of people ducking for cover beneath their seats.

But he could hear none of it, only the sound of the bullet as it left the barrel of the gun, the explosion of it as it tore through the room.

Soda threw his body over Pony’s. It was instinct, and when he looked his brother over to see if there was anything wrong, he shook his head. He stared up at Soda with those big eyes of his. The ones that reminded him of Dad. The ones that reminded him of Darry.

There was nothing. Soda could hear nothing. And then a single word seemed to break through the silence.

“Paul?”

It was a voice Soda knew, had known his entire life. It was the same voice that had been there the day he was born, the same voice that had been there through every birthday, every skinned knee, every broken heart, every day of their childhood.

It was the voice that told him his parents were dead, it was the voice that told him they found Pony after he’d run away. It was a voice that brought him comfort in a way no one else could. Because it was his big brother’s voice. And it was safe, and comforting, and soothing.

But it sounded strange, a lilt to it that was unfamiliar. So Soda turned to look at his brother. He was still in front of Paul and Chief Holden, both of whom were standing unscathed from the gunshot. Darry looked confused, mouth pulled in a frown, brow furrowed.

He had a hand on his stomach like he was going to be sick. But that wasn’t quite right either. There was something off in his expression.

Then something red started spilling out over Darry’s hand, forming a stain on his nice dress shirt, on the vest that had belonged to their dad.

Darry looked up and found Soda in the crowd. Darry looked at him with those big eyes of his. The ones that reminded him of their Dad. The ones that reminded him of Pony. He looked as confused as Soda felt.

Then Darry collapsed on the floor and Soda finally realized what had happened.

Darry had been shot.

All the sound came back at once. People screaming, footsteps as people ran towards the door. Soda ignored all of that, he pushed past people, leaped over the railing. By the time he got to his brother, blood was pooling beneath him.

“Darry! Come on man, open your eyes.”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Is there a medic here?”

Darry’s labored breath.

“Darry, keep breathing, man, you’re alright.”

Darry blinked hard, his breath was short, painful gasps. Soda was pressing his hands against the wound, he could feel his heartbeat beneath his skin.

Darry’s eyes closed.

“Darry, look at me, just keep breathing, okay?”

Darry blinked his eyes open. His gaze wild, searching, finally they settled to the left of Soda.

“Pone?”

Soda turned his head and saw his younger brother there. He hadn’t even realized he’d followed him.

“Hey Dar, how you feeling?”

Darry gave him a small smile, “Been better.”

Another person kneeled on the other side of Darry. “Soda, move back let me help him.”

“What?”

Soda looked up and saw the doctor from before— what was his name? Andy. Dr. Thompson. The one that helped Darry after he was jumped.

The doctor softened his gaze and said, “Move over kid, talk to him, keep him awake, I got this.”

He gently pushed Soda away, whose hands were covered in his brother’s blood.

But Soda couldn’t be distracted by that. Darry tried to pick up his hand, but he struggled to move, Soda and Pony tried to hold him still. “Hey, Dar, relax man, help is on the way.”

“Get it out,” Darry said.

“What?”

“Watch.”

“Watch what?”

Darry shook his head, a desperate laughter bubbled out of him that frightened Soda. “Watch, get it out.”

He struggle to unzip the pocket on his vest, then Soda realized what he meant. He gently pushed his brother’s hand away and unclipped the pocket watch, putting it Darry’s hand. “This what you want?”

Darry shook his hand and grabbed Pony’s hand, coving their kid brother’s hand in red.

“What are you doing?” Pony asked.

“Promised I’d give it back when I don’t need it anymore. Don’t think I will.”

Pony’s expression broke. “Darry—”

But it was like his brother couldn’t hear him. He turned towards Soda then, gaze fierce when he said, “Like. I said. You’ll be better. At this. Than I ever was.”

Soda knew exactly what he was talking about. How could he not? He’d read the letter Darry had written him so many times the words were tattooed across his memory. He knew exactly what Darry meant now, even through his brother’s pain and confusion. 

It made a panic so fierce consume him he didn’t think he could breathe.

Darry’s eyes were closing again, so Soda shook his shoulders, trying to get him to focus. “Dar, come on man, stay with me, don’t talk like that.”

But Darry wasn’t looking at him, he was looking somewhere far off in the distance. “Everyone’s got a roof in heaven.”

“What?”

Darry nodded, “That’s what Dad just told me, no need for roofing, he said, everyone’s already got one. And lots of space to play football. That’s good. I missed playing, I ain’t got time anymore. Maybe I can if I don’t gotta roof all the time.”

Before Soda could say anything else, Darry’s eyes slipped closed.

“Darry, come on man, wake up.”

Someone else was pulling Soda away, “We need you to move kid.”

“Darry, please, you gotta wake up.”

“Sir, we need to work.”

“No! He’s my brother, I can’t leave him.”

But a different voice, a familiar one, almost as familiar as Darry’s said, “Come on Soda, let them do their job.”

Soda looked up and saw Steve. After a moment he nodded and let himself be pulled away.

He stood there watching as they tried to stabilize his brother. His big brother. The one he’d never gone a day without. The one whose blood was pooling on the courtroom floor. And Soda fought to keep breathing.

Chapter Text

When Soda was nine, he broke his ankle.

The day started out simple enough, he and the gang were riding bikes way out to the woods behind The Brewclub. Woods so vast and thick with trees they could spend hours out there chasing each other on bikes or climbing from branch to branch without ever touching the ground. They didn’t go often, because the bike ride took forever, but it was Soda’s favorite place to explore.

There was one problem though, it meant Darry had to tag along.

Soda and Pony weren’t allowed to go if Darry didn’t go. Which meant Johnny wouldn’t go without Pony, which meant Steve wouldn’t go without Soda. And the new kid Two-Bit certainly wouldn’t go without Darry. So without Darry, it meant Dally was riding to the woods all by himself, and as much as Dally liked to talk a big game of being a lone wolf, that was a bit much even for him.

They’d been begging Darry to come with them for weeks but he kept telling them no. He had all kinds of reasons, he was too old to be running around in the woods all day, he had football drills he needed to run in the yard for the season coming up, he had reading he needed to do for school.

But Soda knew all of that was just excuses, normally Darry wouldn’t give them any grief about it. But he and Soda had been at odds for weeks, hardly saying a word to each other.

And it’d all started with comics.

Comics were like gold to the Greasers. They’d go around collecting old Coke bottles so they could get a nickel, or do chores around the house for a spare penny, or mow Old Man Parker’s lawn for a dime. Anything to read the newest Spiderman, or Batman, or Superman, or whatever comic was hot off the presses.

And Darry, of course, had the biggest collection out of them all. Soda figured it was because he had a couple extra years of collecting them before the rest of the gang got started, or maybe he was just smarter than everyone else about his money. But the reason didn’t matter. Darry’s comic book collection was what the rest of the gang dreamed of. And rarely did he let anybody borrow one.

It drove Soda nuts, something he always made sure his brother knew. But Darry would just smirk and say, “Spend your money better, then maybe you could have some, too.”

“Or you could just let me borrow yours and quit being a brat about it,” Soda snapped back.

It all came to a head a few weeks prior when Darry was at football practice and Soda took a couple of Darry’s comics off of his shelf to read. It wasn't like it mattered, Soda had done it hundreds of times before and his brother hadn’t even noticed.

That was, until, Soda spilled his chocolate milk on Darry’s brand new Superman comic, the one he told Soda that he’d regret the day he was born if he so much as looked at it funny.

It took Darry a while to find out, but when he did, they fought so fiercely that Soda swore they woke the whole neighborhood.

Darry kept going on and on with all these adult words like he was a grown up or something. Saying the comics were his personal property, and Soda had no sense of privacy, and how he should learn a sense of responsibility and at least admit it when he screwed up.

Soda got sick of the lecture. And when he found he could no longer take it anymore, he snapped, “You ain’t Dad even if you got the same name. So will you quit acting like some old man and just shut up!”

Darry, for his part, hadn’t hung out with the gang since.

Soda figured their trip to the woods was a lost cause, Darry was stubborn, and he could hold a grudge better than anybody. But then Two-Bit asked him with that goofy grin of his, and by some miracle, Darry was pulling his bike around front and telling the rest of the boys to hurry up. 

Soda didn’t know how the sixth grader managed it. Two-Bit had just moved into the neighborhood. He’d only been there a few months and still wasn’t quite sure of his place in their group. Soda liked him alright, he sure was funny, but he was still more Darry’s friend than the rest of them. But Soda figured he might as well count his blessings where he could. Even if that meant he had to spend the whole day with his obnoxious brother. 

Besides, Soda could put up with Darry because Dally was going to be there, and Dally was cool, way cooler than Darry ever thought about being.

And that became apparent when the boys, deep in the woods, decided to climb up an old magnolia tree to see if they could see Tulsa from out there.

It was one of those trees you just had to climb. Thick branches low to the ground to get you started, not too many leaves to get your face all scratched up and block your view. The bark smooth enough that it didn’t hurt your hands the whole time you clung on. It was perfect. Sure, the limbs were a little far apart for Soda’s liking, but he’d make it work.

But Darry, apparently, didn’t agree. “Soda I don’t know that you need to go up there, kid. You ain’t as tall as Dally. Besides, you know we ain’t supposed to climb trees that big way out here. Mom would skin us alive.”

Soda’s ears burned with embarrassment as Dally laughed along with Two-Bit and Steve. The fifth grader said, “Yeah, kid, why don’t you hang out with the other pipsqueaks down here, it’s much safer anyway.”

Darry shot Dally a look, the two of them never could quite get along like the rest of them, both just a bit too stubborn to let the other take he lead.

But Soda didn’t care, he didn’t want to look like some little kid, forced to hang back with the likes of Pony and Johnny. He was tuff, he was cool, he was almost double digits. And he could climb any damn tree he pleased, he didn’t care what Darry said.

So he scoffed at Darry and folded his arms over his chest, saying, “Just because you’re too scared to climb up there ain’t gonna stop me.”

Darry rolled his eyes, “I ain’t scared kid, it’s just not safe.”

“Will you quit calling me a kid! I’m nine years old. The only kid here is Pony.”

“I ain’t a kid either!” Their little brother shot back, face tinged pink as he went to stand behind Darry, clearly upset.

Darry patted their youngest brother on the shoulder but never took his eyes off Soda. “Soda I’m serious—”

“Why’d you even come if all you’re gonna do is boss us around? We want to have fun you know, not stand around and listen to the great Darrel Curtis bitch and moan at us all afternoon.”

Dally laughed, but Soda noticed the other boys stayed strangely quiet. 

“Look at that,” Dally said, clapping Soda on the shoulder, “Looks like one of the Curtis brothers is made outta tougher stuff after all. And here I thought you lot were a bunch of wet blankets.”

Usually, the compliment from Dally would have left Soda beaming for days, but he couldn’t quite push past the guilt eating away at him seeing Darry’s hurt expression.

Darry looked around, but none of the other boys would meet his gaze. When no one said anything to defend him, Darry cleared his throat and said, “Fine, climb up there, break your neck for all I care. I ain’t crying at your funeral. Come on, Pony, let’s you me and Johnny find something fun to do.”

“I wanna climb too!” Pony said.

Darry nodded, “Gotta find a smaller tree, Pone. Ain’t gonna do you no good if you can’t reach the branches.”

And with that, the three of them were gone, Two-Bit looked among the group as if trying to decide if he should follow his friend when Dally slugged him on the shoulder and said, “What, you too scared like Curtis?”

Two-Bit broke out into a big grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Nah, this ain’t near as big as the trees they had back in my old town. This is kid stuff.”

And with that, the boys were leaping into the tree.

They didn’t climb trees often, there weren’t all that many to climb in Tulsa, it was part of what made the whole afternoon so exhilarating for Soda. The fresh air, the sweet scent from the magnolia blooms, the rough bark beneath his hands. He felt alive out here in a way he rarely did in the city, like if he climbed high enough, he could see the whole world.

Dally stayed a few limbs ahead of the rest, laughing down at the other three. “You boys gotta be quicker than that, your nerves are gonna get ya faster than your hands can move.”

Two-Bit had planted himself a few limbs below, clinging onto the trunk of the tree so tight his hands had turned white. “You know what, Dal? I like it right here just fine. I don’t see much point in going higher.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah man, I ain’t looking to become a pancake today.”

Dally laughed, he’d reached a limb he had to stretch his body far to grab onto, just barely grasping it with the tips of his fingers. When he looked back at Soda, there was a gleam in his eye the older boy didn’t usually have. Like he was alive, like he could breathe for the first time.

Soda wanted that feeling too.

He reached for the same limb he’d just seen Dally grab onto. It wasn’t hard, he’d watched real close, but Darry had been right about one thing, loathe as Soda was to admit it. Dally, being the ten year old that he was, was a good bit taller than Soda.

And that turned out to be (quite literally) Soda’s downfall.

When Soda went to grasp the branch and felt nothing in his hand but air, time seemed to slow down. He saw Dally’s face that had just been filled with laughter shift to one of concern. It looked funny on him, Soda had never seen Dally concerned before.

He watched as the new kid, Two-Bit, reached out to try and grab him, but he was too far away, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have helped, he would have just fallen too.

He saw Steve holler for him, as if he thought that if he got mad enough, he could bully the gravity into letting go of his friend and instead return him unharmed to another one of the branches.

But that didn’t happen, Soda just fell further and further, and then all too quickly the ground reached up to meet him; a sickening crack like an egg knocked against the counter.

For a minute he couldn’t breathe, all the wind was knocked out of him, an aching feeling in his chest as he struggled to pull in breath. He clawed the ground, willing his lungs to work again, but it seemed impossible.

All around him were panicked cries.

“Oh shit!”

“Soda!”

“Darry, get over here man, your brother!”

Someone rolled him over. Soda had his eyes scrunched up tight, trying desperately not to cry in front of his friends.

“Pepsi, bud, you alright? I need you to look at me, kid.”

Soda forced his eyes open only to find his brother staring down at him, worry painted across his features.

Soda pulled in a breath, the first breath in what felt like an eternity. “I think so, knocked the wind out of me something fierce.” His voice shook, but not enough for anyone to notice. He was a little proud of himself for how tuff he was acting.

But his brother didn’t seem convinced. Darry’s worried eyes were scanning him, looking for cracks in his armor. “Anything hurting?”

Soda thought nothing but his pride had been bruised, and was about to tell his brother to quit worrying, when Two-Bit’s panicked voice cut through the woods, “His foot ain’t supposed to be hanging like that!”

Darry turned around and Soda watched as all the color drained from his face. Not a good sign, Soda thought, nothing ever got to Darry.

Soda couldn’t help it, despite knowing it was a bad idea, he looked down, only to find his leg pointing one way and his foot another. Mangled and unnatural.

The pain hit him full force then. Horrors that only a nine year old could dream up started running through his mind. What if they couldn’t fix it? What if they had to cut off his foot? It hurt so bad he didn’t see how he could possibly keep it. What if he couldn’t ever walk again? What if he couldn’t ever ride a bike again? What if all his friends quit playing with him because he couldn’t do nothing fun anymore and he was stuck in his house by himself for the rest of his life?

Someone was shaking his shoulders. “Soda, calm down kid, you gotta breathe for me, okay?”

“Darry it hurts,” he said, tears now flowing freely, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Darry nodded, running a hand through his hair.“I know Pepsi, okay? But you gotta help me out here so we can get you to the doctor quick. This won’t be nothing, We’ll get you all set up with a cast that’ll look real tuff, and all the girls at school are gonna be feeling all sorry for you and wanting to sign it and stuff.”

“I don’t care about girls signing my cast! I just want my foot back to normal!” Soda whined.

Darry let out a shaky laugh. “Forgot you were only nine. Alright, that’s fine, but a cast will fix it up real quick. Just give me a second and we’ll get you home. Try not to think about it.”

Soda took a shaky breath, for the first time he noticed the other boys standing around him. He saw that Pony was hiding behind Darry, crying almost as hard as Soda was. Soda wished he could will his own tears away, it just proved Darry had been right about him being a little kid, too, but found he couldn’t stop.

“Hey Dally,” Darry said. Soda looked over at the older boy and realized he’d gone white as a sheet, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Dally? I swear you better start listening to me, man.”

Dally tore his gaze away from Soda’s foot and met Darry’s gaze. “Shit man, his foot—”

“Dally.”

“How are we gonna—”

“Dally.”

“It’s all twisted up—”

“Steve, can you help me out here?” Darry asked.

Steve smirked and punched Dally hard in the arm. It made Dally jump about a foot in the air. 

Darry rolled his eyes at Dally’s theatrics. “Earth to Dally? You listening?”

“Hell Curtis, of course I am with the way you’re hollering,” He said, rubbing his arm, but some of his color seemed to be returning.

“You and Steve ride ahead of the rest of us and see if you can flag down a car.”

“Why?”

Darry gave him a look. “Because we’re miles away from our hood? I can get Soda back, but I’d rather not have to jostle him around that long.”

“Ain’t no car gonna stop for a hood like me,” Dally said.

Darry rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? I saw you talk the grocer into giving you a free candy bar the other day, you’re persuasive as hell Dally.”

“But they ain’t gonna be talking are they? Just flying by in their fancy cars. They ain’t gonna stop for no Greasers kids like us.”

Darry scowled at him. “Alright then, you carry Soda home and I’ll go try and hitch a ride.”

Dally blanched again as he glanced towards Soda’s ankle and said, “Come on Steve, let’s go see what we can do.”

Once they were gone, Darry turned to his friend and said, “Two-Bit, can you take Pony and Johnny and ride ahead of us,” He lowered his voice so Pony couldn’t hear, who was still clinging to Darry like a lifeline, “I don’t want him getting all worked up and freaking Soda out.”

“I ain’t a little kid, I can take it,” Soda said, but he didn’t feel particularly big in that moment, ankle throbbing and tears streaming down his face.

Darry rolled his eyes. “Who called you a little kid? Quit putting words in my mouth. Can you do that for me, Two?”

Two-Bit nodded and did a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain. Hey, Alvin and the Chipmunk, let’s go see how Dally and Steve are holding up without us, yeah?”

Pony gave Soda a worried look, “He ain’t gonna die, is he?” 

And shoot Soda hadn’t even thought of that. Was he gonna die? What if he got some sort of flesh-eating infection from one of the scrapes and they couldn’t do nothing about it. Or the doctors didn’t catch it until it was too late? And then it was a long, slow, painful death as the bacteria ate him from the feet all the way up until—

“He just broke his ankle, Pone. Ain’t nothing. I broke my arm a few years ago, remember? And look at me now. We just gotta get him home.”

Two-Bit left with Pony and Johnny, and there was no one left but Soda and Darry. 

Darry gave Soda a gentle look and said, “You alright, Pepsi?”

“It hurts, Dar,” Whatever brave face he’d been putting on for his friends melted away. He didn’t have to be tuff, not for Darry.

Darry gave him a small smile. “I know, I’m gonna pick you up now, and we’re gonna get you home.”

“I don’t think I can ride my bike.”

Darry laughed. “I figured that much, we’ll come back for them later.”

“Then how are we getting home?”

“Ain’t it obvious? I’m carrying you.”

“But we’re miles away!” Soda said. Darry was strong, but not that strong.

His brother just rolled his eyes, “Come on, Pepsi. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Dally and Steve found us a ride.”

Darry hoisted Soda up on his back and started the long walk through the woods. They were at least a mile away from the road, maybe even two. And who knows how many to get back to the East Side. Each step jostled his foot and sent a shock wave of pain through his body, but he didn’t say that to Darry. It wouldn’t do any good.

Instead, he said the thing that had been eating at him. “I ain’t gonna lose my foot am I?”

“What?” Darry grunted, his breathing was heavy. “Why would you think that?”

“I saw it in a movie, the guy broke his foot so bad they had to cut the whole thing off.”

“You gotta stop watching all them dang action movies with Steve. This ain’t that bad kid, the doctor will fix you up real quick.”

“But what if they don’t? What if something goes really wrong, Dar.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna go wrong.”

Then, so quietly he wasn’t sure how Darry even heard it, he said, “I’m scared.” He was dangerously close to crying again.

Darry sighed and hitched Soda up higher on his back, the jostling made the pain in Soda’s ankle flair up. “You know that new Spiderman comic I got last week?”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do—”

“You be real tuff when you go to the doctor’s office and you can have it, savvy?”

“But that won’t change nothing—”

“Or any of my other comics if you want something else. You can pick out anything you want.”

That caught Soda’s attention. So he sniffed and said, “Even the Superman one?”

Darry laughed, “You and that dang Superman comic. Yeah, Pepsi, even the Superman one.”

They went on in silence for a while, Darry’s labored breath the only noise around. They had just managed to make it to the road. He felt his brother tense beneath him when he realized there was no one there to give them a ride.

“You okay?” Soda asked because Darry was breathing awful heavy.

Darry scoffed. “I’m supposed to be asking you that question, Pepsi.”

“We can take a break if you want.”

“Nah, we need to get you to the doctor as soon as possible. Let’s just hope Dally found someone to help us out.”

But there was another fear that had been eating at Soda since he fell. He tried to find the courage to ask, because he knew it made him sound like a little kid, but he didn’t think he cared anymore.

“Will you stay with me? At the hospital.”

Darry paused for just a moment then said, “Of course, Pepsi. Where else would I go?”

Relief flooded Soda knowing that he’d have his big brother there, that he hadn’t made him so mad he wouldn’t have anything to do with him anymore. Soda thought about apologizing for yelling at him earlier and calling him boring. Because really, Darry was the coolest guy in the world, even cooler than Dally if he was being honest. 

But he didn’t get a chance. Just as the words began to form, a familiar car pulled off the side of the road, hazard lights flashing, and in a blink of an eye their mom jumped out of the drivers side and sprinted towards them.

Soda’s tears started anew at the sight of her. Something about it made him feel safe.

She picked him up off of Darry’s back, careful not to jostle his ankle, and pulled him into a fierce hug. The scent of lavender and cinnamon clung to her skin.

“Soda, honey are you alright? Dally and Steve came tearing in the house talking about you falling out of a tree—”

“He broke his ankle Mom, he needs a doctor.”

Her eyes hardened when she pulled her gaze towards Darry. “And why were you letting him climb trees in the first place? You know the rules.”

Darry, face red and sweaty from his long walk with Soda on his back and still struggling to catch his breath, pulled his gaze down to the ground. “I know Mom, I’m sorry.”

But even through his tears, Soda couldn’t let his brother take the fall, not with everything he’d done for him.

So despite himself, he said, “He tried to stop me mom, I weren’t listening.” 

Their mom looked between them, then sighed. “Well, we’ll talk about it later. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Darry stayed true to his word, sticking to Soda’s side like glue the whole time they were there. Wherever Soda went, Darry, like a shadow, followed right behind. He was even the first one to sign his cast. And when Soda had to stay overnight he brought half his comic book collection the next morning and let Soda read whatever he wanted. He didn’t even care when Soda spilled Jello all over his new Superman.

And more important than that, he made sure to tell everyone how tuff his brother was after he fell. “Didn’t cry or nothing, you should have seen the kid. You wouldn’t have even known he just fell outta the top of some tree.”

Soda never thanked him for that, but he didn’t have to. Darry knew, in the way his older brother always seemed to know, how thankful he was.

And when Two-Bit started calling Darry Superman afterward, saying his older brother had to be some sort of superhero to carry Soda all that way by himself, Darry might have rolled his eyes and told him to shut it, but Soda couldn’t help but agree. And he thought it was pretty cool to be Superman’s little brother.

Soda played that memory over and over in his head as he sat in the hospital waiting room with Pony glued to his side.

People came in and out. Mr. Cooper. Mrs. Miller. Two-Bit. Steve. Mr. Moore. Dozens of people. Maybe hundred. Soda didn’t know. He didn’t care. His brother’s blood was still dried on his hands. He couldn’t bear to wash it off.

What if that was the last time he saw his brother alive? What if that was the last time he felt his heart beating in his chest? What if it was the last time he heard his brother pull in a breath, even if it was shaky and filled with pain? What if that was the last time he smelled his brother’s cologne?

What if that was the last time he felt heat beneath his brother's skin, the warmth of blood flowing through his veins, the warmth of being alive? What if the next time he saw his brother he was cold and lifeless and dead? What if the last memory he had of his brother alive was bleeding out in the Tulsa County Courthouse?

Soda didn’t know how long he sat there like that. It could have been minutes, hours, days. Time ceased to exist. Then suddenly he heard someone say, “Soda, kid, you with me?”

Soda blinked and looked up, he was surprised to find the doctor from before, Dr. Thompson, kneeling in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I’m your brother’s doctor.”

“What, did they just grab the first doctor they saw or something?” Soda didn’t mean it rude, but it probably came out that way.

But the older man didn’t seem offended, just offered him a smile. “Actually, I work here. Asked to be put on your brother’s case. Why don’t you come to my office, we can talk about Darry, sound like a plan?”

Soda blinked, looking around. He felt like he was forgetting something. “Pony—”

“He and Two-Bit went to grab coffee, I’ll tell them when they get back, alright man?” Steve said, voice gentle and eyes sad. 

Soda stared at him, he didn’t even know Steve had been sitting there. Didn’t know Two-Bit and Pony had left, didn’t know they had even been there at all.

He nodded, numb, and let himself be led to Dr. Thompson’s office. It was cold in there, he couldn’t stop shaking. For some reason he kept staring at the doctor’s desk; so organized it looked like something out of an ad for a filing system. He was reminded of Darry’s desk at Moore’s Law Firm, only to be hit with a fresh wave of pain all over again.

Dr. Thompson started talking, but Soda couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying. The medical terms rolled around in his head, each one more scary and confusing than the last. The bullet hit a rib? They had to remove part of it? Something about his left lung? His liver?

The more the Doctor talked, all Soda could do was picture this bullet, so small, smaller than his thumb, ripping into his brother’s body and tearing his insides to shreds. He blinked and he saw Darry sitting on the cold hardwood floor of the courthouse, blood pooling beneath him.

Dr. Thompson was mid-sentence when Soda leaned forward and said, “I don’t care about all that. I just need to know. Is he going to be okay?”

Dr. Thompson sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, a solemn look in his eye. “I honestly don’t know.”

Soda laughed. He didn’t know why, nothing was funny. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know? You’re a doctor ain’t ya?”

Dr. Thompson gave him a look. “Yes, I’m a doctor, not a psychic. And medically speaking, I can’t say if your brother’s going to make it or not. His body’s been through a lot this past year, and the surgery he’s been in for the past few hours was extensive. I’ve heard of a couple of patients with similar injuries who survived, but I’ve heard of at least a dozen more that didn’t. I can’t with absolute certainty say one way or another. But I’ll be honest, his odds aren’t great.”

Soda let the words sink in, but he wasn’t sure he could understand them. “How long until we know?”

The doctor sighed. “The first forty-eight hours are the most critical. I say if he makes it through that, his chances go up a bit. Still not good, but slightly better.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. The human body is both incredibly fragile and fiercely resilient. All we can do is keep a close eye on him and see if his condition improves.”

What the hell was he supposed to do with that? His brother might get better, he might not? How long were they expected to be stuck in limbo like this waiting on a miracle that might not ever happen?

Dr. Thompson continued, “But even if he makes it, Soda, I need you to understand, that it’s a long path to recovery.”

“What do you mean?”

“For now we’re keeping him in one of our newer departments called the Intensive Care Unit, ICU for short. It’s perfect for someone like him, we have all sorts of machines to check things like his breathing and his heart beat to see if he’s improving.

“But if, and it’s a big if Soda, I need you to understand that, he wakes up, it’s going to be months before we get him back to a place of good health again. And some things may never return. He might always have difficulty breathing now, he might always have pain in his chest. Things like roofing might not be possible for him anymore. For someone as active as he’s always been those will be hard challenges for him to face.” 

“Yeah, but at least he’ll be alive,” Soda said, voice sharp.

Dr. Thompson nodded. “I know, kid, I just want you to understand what lies ahead.”

Soda took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Dr. Thompson wasn’t the enemy, he knew that, objectively. But there was no one who could take the brunt of Soda’s anger. And all Soda wanted to do was scream.

But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Can I see him?”

“They’re still getting him out of post-op, and it might be a few hours before he’s set up in his room.” Dr. Thompson must have seen how Soda’s face fell, because his expression softened and he continued, “How about this, you run home, take a shower, get that blood off and get changed, and when you get back I’ll take you boys back there to see him myself, alright?”

Soda looked at his hands, the red blood still staining his skin. He didn’t mind washing it off anymore, not now that he knew he had another chance to see Darry alive. “Yeah, alright, I guess I can do that.”

Soda moved on autopilot. He blinked and he was in Darry’s truck. World passing by the windows in streaks of grey. He blinked again and he was stepping through the threshold of their house, kicking his shoes off and heading towards the bathroom. He blinked again and he was looking at the water beneath his feet in the shower tinged bright pink as the blood slicked off his skin.

He tried not to think, he didn’t want to think. Focus on the now, he thought. Don’t think of Darry lying on the courthouse floor. Don’t think of the way his breath shuttered and his eyes closed. Don’t think of the look of fear in his eyes when he realized he was shot. Don’t think at all.

He turned the water off in the shower, pulled a towel around his waist, and walked down the hall to grab a change of clothes. Not even paying attention to where he was going. Just focused on not thinking. Not thinking. Not thinking.

When he opened the door to his room, he was hit with the smell of stale air and a thick layer of dust. It took him a minute to understand why.

He hadn’t walked into the room he shared with Pony, he’d walked into the room he’d once shared with Darry. The room he hadn’t stepped foot in since Mrs. Miller’s visit all those months ago. The room that remained untouched, a shrine to their youth, a shrine to the boys they once were.

Soda froze, breath caught in his chest as he stared around the room, all the things so familiar to him. Soda’s albums hanging on the wall, Darry’s sports trophies lining the shelf above his bed. The desk that still had a couple of text books from high school Soda forgot to give back, the newspaper cut out Darry had on his wall from winning his state championship. 

Before he could stumble away and lock the door behind him like he should have done, he caught sight of a framed picture on his bedside table and found he couldn’t look away.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, he stepped towards it, picking it up and looking at the picture inside. It was an old photo of him and Darry, Soda wasn’t even sure who put it in there, probably their mom at some point. It was the Christmas before Pony was born. Darry, no older than four, holding a tiny Soda in his lap in front of the Christmas tree, smiling bright at the camera.

The photo sent an ache deep in Soda’s chest he didn’t think he’d ever recover from. An indescribable pain ripped through him that hurt worse than any he’d ever felt before. Worse than that day he broke his ankle. Worse than when Sandy cheated on him and broke his heart. Worse even than his parents' death, which was a pain he’d felt so fiercely that sometimes it stole his breath away.

No, this pain was worse because it wasn’t fair. His brother wasn’t supposed to get hurt. His brother wasn’t supposed to die. They were supposed to grow old together, and get married and be in each other's wedding. They were supposed to have their kids grow up together and be best friends. 

Soda was supposed to be an electrician, and Pony a best selling writer, and Darry get out of the hole life had drug him into and do something that made him happy. And they were supposed to have a lifetime of Thanksgivings together, and birthdays, and Christmases and New Years.

And they were supposed to grow up together, and lean on one another, and do all the things in life they’d once dreamed of together.

And it just. Wasn’t. Fair.

Soda took the frame in his hand and threw it against the wall with all of his might, the glass shattered and rained on the ground, glittering like diamonds. He screamed against that desperate ache in his chest he didn’t think he’d ever shake, and he ripped his records off the wall, not caring when they broke. He snapped Darry’s trophies in half, golden football players littering the ground like fallen soldiers. He pulled books off the shelves and tore them in two.

Because it wasn’t fair that the boys who grew up in this room couldn’t have any of the things they dreamed of. None of it. Because without Darry, Soda would lose everything, too. Soda could pull himself together before, when his brother was alive and there was a reason for him to soldier on. He could be okay with the hell life threw at him because he had his brothers. And he needed his brothers. Needed them more than anything else. 

But now? With Darry dying in some hospital somewhere? Soda knew he wouldn’t make it, not with the white hot anger that he felt with every beat of his heart.

He pulled things out of the closet, he ripped old shirts and broke hangers. He smashed their toy cars and crushed their old chess set. He destroyed their childhood bedroom. A room filled with pretty lies and false promises. And when there was nothing more he could do, he sat in the eye of the destruction and felt fresh tears fall down his face. He laid on his back, looking up at the model airplanes Soda and Darry had built together as kids still hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s not fair,” He whispered. To who he didn’t know. Didn’t care. But it wasn’t.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, but when he rolled over, he felt something crunch beneath him. He pushed up from the floor and realized it was Darry’s old comics. The ones he’d read to him when he broke his ankle.

Soda picked up one, then another, then another. He must have knocked the box over when he pulled stuff out of the closet. He hadn’t thought about them in years.

He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he grabbed a handful of them out of the box, rifling around until he found the Superman ones, and took them with him. He couldn’t do anything else, he thought. But maybe he could read to his brother, like he had for him. Maybe, he thought, he’d like that.

Dr. Thompson, true to his word, took all four Greasers to Darry’s room when Soda got back. But before he opened the door he said, “Now, let me warn you boys, it’s going to be a bit jarring to see him, especially if you’re not used to seeing someone in a hospital setting like this. The machines can look scary, but I promise Darry’s completely comfortable, alright?”

They stood there frozen for a moment; everyone afraid of what lay on the other side of the door. Eventually, Steve sighed and said, “Ain’t no use in waiting around, is there? Might as well rip the bandaid off.”

Dr. Thompson gave a sharp nod and said, “Right then, here we go.”

He opened the door, and the first thing Soda noticed was how sterile it smelled. Like someone had just wiped the room down with bleach. The bed was covered in tubes and machines, but Soda didn’t see Darry. He felt Pony stiffen beside him at the same time Two-Bit said, “Damn Superman, what’d they do to you?”

And then Soda realized that Darry was in the bed. He looked awful. Truly awful. There was no other word for it. With his skin as pale as the sheets he was laying on he looked like he was some sort of alien they’d encounter on Star Trek. Wires attached all up and down his arms, some big contraption the size of a washing machine hooked up to him with a tube going down his throat.

But what made Soda nauseous was the wound that ran the length of his chest, stitched up nice and neat, bright red against his lifeless skin. A reminder of the surgery he’d just had. A reminder of the bullet that’d ripped through him. A reminder that every breath was on borrowed time.

Soda blinked and saw Darry lying on the courthouse floor. 

He shook his head. Just focus on not thinking. Not thinking. Not thinking.

He clung to the comics in his hand like a lifeline and said, “And you’re sure all this stuff is safe?”

Dr. Thompson nodded. “It’s what’s keeping him alive.”

“It don’t hurt him or nothing does it?” Pony asked, voice quiet.

“Not at all, he can’t feel a thing.”

They were quiet for a long time, only the sound of the beeping machines broke the silence. Eventually, Dr. Thompson had to leave. He gave Soda gentle pat on the shoulder and said, “Try talking to him some, it might help.”

“Can he hear us?”

The doctor shrugged, “I’m not sure, but I think so. Having loved ones nearby has made a huge difference in my other patients.”

And with one final nod, Dr. Thompson looked around and said, “I’ll give you boys some time.”

None of them moved for a long time, too shocked by the sight of Darry, too scared he might break if they so much as breathed the wrong way.

Eventually, Soda noticed a chair sitting on the other side of Darry’s bed and slowly moved toward it. It was vinyl, stiff and uncomfortable, but Soda didn’t think he’d ever be comfortable there, not in that place, not with his brother so broken.

He looked over at his friends, surprised they were so quiet. He didn’t think they’d ever been that quiet before, not when they were all together like that. But what was there to say? The machines attached to Darry continued to beep. 

Soda blinked and saw Darry lying on the courthouse floor.

He couldn’t think, so he spoke instead.

“Hey, Dar, heard you might be here for a while,” his voice broke, so he steadied it and continued, “Figured it could get mighty boring in this place, so I brought some stuff to read, thought you might like it.”

He picked up the comics, laying them at the edge of the bed.

Pony sniffed and said, voice shaking, “I can bring some books along next time too, think he’d like that? I know some of his favorites.”

Soda nodded. “Yeah kid, I think that’s real nice. First chance he’s had to read in months.”

That made Pony smile.

Two-Bit leaned against the edge of the bed after just a moment of hesitation. “Shoot I can bring my deck of cards over, I know there’s nothing Darry loves more than seeing me win.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “That might be the thing that convinces him to go towards the light.”

“What are you talking about? Dar loves poker!”

Pony gave him a thoughtful look. “I don’t know, it could work Steve. He might wake up just to tell Two-Bit to shut up.”

It wasn’t much, and they weren’t fixed, but the tension broke. Soda took a deep breath. They’d figure this out, somehow, some way, together.

It was day twelve when Darry’s heart stopped.

It was one of the rare days the four Greasers were all hanging out together in Darry’s room. They’d gotten good at taking shifts, because no matter how much Soda wanted to spend every second in the hospital, someone had to pay for all of this, and Pony still had school. The world didn’t stop spinning for them, as Soda was reminded over and over again.

So they made it work. Soda came over every afternoon after work, Two-Bit came over during the day, Pony would spend the whole weekend there, and Steve spent most nights sleeping there.

Soda asked his friend about it once, trying gently to tell him he didn’t have to spend the night, but Steve just shrugged and said, “Better than staying with my old man.” And that was enough for Soda.

But on that day, the four of them had all managed to have the same Saturday off. Before this, that meant they would have been bumming around town and raising a little hell, or down at the diner, or scraping enough together to go to the movies, but there was a somberness when the four of them were together now that made things like that feel impossible. So they all hung out in the tiny hospital room, playing a game of poker at the foot of Darry’s bed. When suddenly one of the machines let out a strange beeping sound.

Two-Bit winced. “Glory, what the hell is making all that racket? That alone ought to be loud enough to wake your brother up.”

“I don’t know,” Soda said, looking over at the machines. There was something strange happening, he’d never heard one of them make that sort of sound. 

Distantly, he heard a nurse hollering down the hall, but he couldn’t quite make out what she said over all that dang beeping.

He stood up to see if there was something he could do to stop the noise but he didn't have a chance. A slew of doctors and nurses came barreling in, pulling a large cart behind him and pushing Soda out of the way, shouting all sorts of things that sounded foreign to him.

“His blood pressure is dropping.”

“Someone check his pulse.”

“What’s happening?” Pony said, voice frightened. 

A doctor spared a glance in their direction, “Someone get them out of here!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Soda demanded, but they wouldn’t answer; a nurse began to usher them out. But not before they saw one of the doctors put the paddles against Darry’s chest, sending an electric shock that pulled his body off the bed.

“You’re hurting him!” Pony yelled.

“I can’t find a pulse!” A nurse shouted.

“Darry wait—” Soda said, but then the door was shut firmly in his face.

The four boys stood there, a heavy silence hung between them. They could no longer hear what was happening on the other side of the door, could no longer see if Darry was even alive.

Soda laid his forehead against the door.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Two-Bit’s soft voice say, “He’ll be okay man. He's Superman, right? They’ll get him fixed up in no time.”

But Soda couldn’t hear another person offer him gentle words. Not when his brother was fighting for his life a few feet away and Soda could do nothing to help. Anger welled up inside him and he snapped, “What the hell do you know, Two-Bit? You didn’t even know what the dang heart monitor was.”

Two-Bit flinched, dropping the hand away.

Steve frowned and said, “Hey, cool it, man. We’re freaked too.”

And that was the thing. Soda knew that. He knew he wasn’t the only one here hurting, the only one here terrified. But he couldn’t help it, the feelings were so big he thought they’d overwhelm him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But he knew he couldn’t be here a second longer, not with the panic filling his chest.

“I’m gonna get some air for a second. When they come out—”

“We’ll come find ya. Go on,” Steve said.

Two-Bit still wouldn’t look at him.

Soda went outside to the courtyard around back. It was quiet, peaceful. But it did nothing to calm him down. He hadn’t felt this kind of anger in a long time. The kind that felt inescapable, the kind he used to would have run from. But he didn’t think there was much point to it now, he didn’t think he could run far enough to ever escape the ache in his chest.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the brick wall, willing himself to calm down. But in his mind, all he saw was Darry bruised and broken, attached to so many wires and tubes Soda could hardly see his brother beneath them all.

Don’t think. Don’t think.

He heard the long solemn beep of the heart rate monitor as his brother’s heart stopped. 

Don’t think. Don’t think.

He saw Darry lying on the courthouse floor, blood pooling beneath him. Eyes slipping closed as his breath shuttered in his chest.

Don't think. Don’t think.

He forced his eyes back open.

When he looked around he realized he wasn’t alone. There was another figure standing across the way. Something about him strangely familiar. Soda wiped at the stray tears on his cheeks and looked closer, desperate to focus on anything else.

The other man wasn’t looking at him, but rather up at the building, Soda didn’t think he saw him. It took a minute for Soda to realize why he looked so familiar.

It was Paul.

Rage filled him to the brim and spilled over. What the hell did he think he was doing there? How dare he come anywhere near them when he was the one who’d taken everything from him. How dare he stand in the same courtyard as Soda as if he hadn’t ruined his life.

Before Soda knew what he was doing his feet were propelling him forward. Paul hardly had time to look in Soda’s direction before Soda pulled back his fist and punched him hard in the face, a satisfying crack as he broke the other boy’s nose rang out in the courtyard.

“Ow! Holy shit man what the hell was that?”

“You killed him!” Soda said rearing back for another blow, but Paul was prepared this time. He managed to dodge the move at the last second.

“Soda, wait—”

But Soda was tired of waiting. He’d been waiting weeks for his brother to get better only for him to get worse, he’d been waiting months for the horrors of the night Darry got jumped to go away and yet they couldn’t seem to move past it. He’d been waiting since the day his parents were hit by that train to get away from the anger that seemed to wrap his heart in chains and refuse to let go, but it seemed the longer he went the tighter they twisted around his heart.

Soda was tired. So damn tired. Of waiting.

He moved forward again with his fist, this time just managing to scrape against Paul’s jaw. He heard the older boy hiss in pain. But Soda didn’t stop. He didn’t care.

Every punch he threw was full force, nothing held back. He slammed forward over and over again. The moves were sloppy, his punches too wide, he wasn’t even stopping to defend himself, and yet never once did Paul fight back. Just kept dodging back and forth, taking the occasional stray hit that came his way.

“Fight back you coward, what are you doing?” Soda screamed, his voice ripped out of his throat and felt raw, he knew he was still crying, but he no longer cared.

But Paul didn’t take the bait, he did something entirely unexpected. When one of Soda’s punches swung a little too wide, Paul saw his opportunity and grabbed his arm, pulling Soda forward until he fell into his chest, then wrapped his arms around him so there was nowhere for Soda to escape. Soda fought to get free, but he couldn’t, Paul, much like Darry, was simply too big.

With what little space Soda had he pounded his fist into Paul’s chest over and over again.

“What the hell are you doing? Fight me, dumbass! Come on, why else would you be here?”

“I’m not going to fight you, kid,” Paul said, voice strangely calm.

“Then what good are you?” Soda hollered. He was sobbing now, fully, beating on the older boy’s chest desperate to get away. Finally, he felt something break as he said, ”You killed him! You took my brother away and you can’t even fight me when I ask? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I know kid, I know, but I ain’t gonna fight you.”

“Then why are you here?”

Paul paused, then said, “I came to apologize—”

That woke something in Soda, he pushed away with so much force that the other boy couldn’t help but let go. “Apologize? To who Paul? You don’t get to say you’re sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Paul shook his head. “I didn’t know he was dead, alright? Last I heard, he was still alive.”

“Yeah, well he was until about five minutes ago,” Soda said, rubbing at his eyes trying to wipe the tears away. Not that any of that mattered now.

Paul’s expression was shattered, too, but Soda could see him trying to hold himself together. “I didn’t know.” His voice was quieter this time.

He looked like he was going to say more, but the older boy never got a chance. Another voice broke through the courtyard, saying, “Everything alright out here?”

Soda turned to see Two-Bit leaning against the building. Soda had no clue how long he’d been there, how much he’d watched. But he couldn’t help but feel raw like the older boy had seen something Soda had wanted to keep private.

“How is he?”

Two-Bit’s gaze flickered between the two boys for a moment, before eventually, he nodded. “They got him back, they’re running some test to see what’s wrong.”

Soda nearly collapsed right there in the courtyard. He was still alive, there was still a chance, maybe his brother would be okay.

“Okay, I’m coming back up, just let me—”

But when he turned, Paul was already gone, like he’d never been there in the first place. There was pang in Soda’s chest he didn’t quite understand, but he pushed it away. He’d think about that later, he needed to get back to his brother.

On day twenty-six Soda bought Darry a new comic.

It was a Saturday, usually Pony’s day to be there, but he had a track meet. Under normal circumstances, Soda would be there cheering him on.

Under normal circumstances, Darry wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed.

He’d been reading a Superman comic out loud for the past couple of hours. Soda leaned forward on Darry’s bed, one hand propped his head up, the other lay on the bed holding the comic. He was just getting to the big fight scene when something brushed against his arm.

Soda jumped about a foot in the air. “Shit! Dar, they got bugs in the place or something?” He looked around to see whatever creepy crawler had weaseled its way into the room, when this time, the movement caught his eye.

Darry’s hand.

Darry moved.

Soda didn’t know what to do, he was too scared to latch onto hope, too gun-shy from everything life had thrown at him. So instead he held Darry’s hand and said, “Dar, you with me buddy? If you can hear me squeeze my hand.”

For a moment, there was nothing, then finally, eventually he felt it.

The gentle pressure against his fingers, faint, but there.

He’s awake. Soda thought, he could feel the tears stinging his eyes, he knew they dripped on the new comic below, but Soda didn’t care.

He’s awake.

Soda, for the first time since the trial, or maybe since his brother got jumped, or maybe since his parents’ death, took his first real breath.

He’s awake.

He didn’t come out of it all at once. It took another three days for him to open his eyes. Another two more before they took him off the ventilator, something that looked horribly painful as far as Soda was concerned. But then his brother pulled his gaze towards him and it felt like the first time he’d actually seen Darry since he got shot. Tired and drained, perhaps, weaker, but when he smiled at Soda it was still the same smile he’d always had, the one that reminded Soda of when they were kids.

When finally Darry spoke, he said, “Can’t believe you’re still hung up on those dang Superman comics.” And so what if his voice was scratchy, and so what if it took a him couple of tries to get the words out? And so what if the simple sentence left him winded? It was so undeniably his brother’s voice, a sound Soda had heard his entire life. A sound he’d been terrified he’d never hear again. It was the first time Soda let himself believe that Darry would make it, that he was alive, that there was another side to all this, and Soda thought he’d cry all over again.

But instead, he laughed and said, “What can I say, I was always partial to the guy, seeing as he’s my brother and all.” Darry rolled his eyes, and Soda squeezed his hand tight.

Chapter Text

“What time are you going to see Darry today?”

The question put Soda on edge in an instant. Pony asked him while he was trying to get the day started, which meant he had about a dozen eggs frying on the stove, another pan of bacon, bills in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. The last thing on his mind at that moment was what time he was going to see Darry.

Because today was busy. Life was busy. He had so much he was trying to balance between his promotion at his job, paying bills, worrying after Pony. Going to the rehab clinic every day to check on his brother was just another thing added to his plate. He hated that he felt that way, hated the crushing guilt in his chest that seeing Darry had become an obligation. But it was how he felt. He just didn’t have time.

But there wasn’t a world where he could say that to Pony. He couldn’t stand to see the judgment in his eye if he ever admitted the words out loud, so instead he just sighed and said, “I don’t know if I’ll have time, Pone. Today’s pretty hectic for me.”

Pony’s head shot up, shock written across his features. “You’re not going today?”

Soda glanced back at the stove and cursed. The bacon was burning. He had the heat up too high. He always did that. Darry told him he was too impatient. Oh well, extra crispy was starting to grow on him. “It’s not like I go every day. Darry will understand. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Well, yeah it’s just—”

“Gooood morning Tweedledee and Tweedledumb!” Two-Bit said, slamming the door against the wall so hard Soda swore he busted the drywall.

“Cool your jets, Two-Bit. You’re gonna break the dang hinges on that thing the way you keep banging it.”

Two-Bit gave him a look. “Glory, I didn’t know Darry got out of the hospital, but here he is yelling at us in this very kitchen.”

“What are you on about?” Soda said, putting the bacon on a plate.

“Just that you’ve apparently been possessed by Darry’s ghost since he’s been gone.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he swiped a piece of bacon. “Dar would have to be dead to haunt him.”

“And yet, somehow, he’s doing it anyway. Must be those crazy Superman powers of his.” Two-Bit took his own bite of bacon and immediately grimaced. “Lord, Soda. You cooking with a blow torch or something?”

“Make it yourself if you think you can do better.” Soda huffed.

Steve had put his own piece of bacon back on the plate and picked at the eggs, but saw their charred remains weren’t much better. “When is Darry coming home anyway? I miss his cooking, it was the only edible meal I had most days.”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? When was Darry coming home? He’d been in some fancy rehab facility Dr. Thompson had moved him to for the past couple of months. The doctor said he was better than before, but considering 'before' he couldn’t breathe on his own and his heart stopped Soda figured he still had a long way to go. He was in pain, though he’d never admit it, and weak in a way that made Soda uncomfortable. His big brother wasn’t ever supposed to be weak, or sick, or hurt. It was Darry, those were things that seemed impossible for him to be.

They had another meeting with his doctor on July 1st to see what his prognosis was. And July 1st was—

“Damn it,” Soda muttered.

“What, burn something else?” Pony said.

“No, we got that meeting with Darry’s doctor today. Guess I’ll have to swing by the hospital for a couple of hours after all.”

Steve gave him a look. “You weren’t planning on going?”

“No? You have any idea how much stuff I gotta do today?”

“What big promotion keeping you busy?” 

It was, he was terrified his boss was going to realize he made a mistake moving him up so quick, so Soda spent every hour he was there working twice as hard as everyone else.

But really, that wasn’t why he was on edge today. Soda was freaking because he had to go down to the financial department at the hospital to see why he hadn’t received any bills in the few months Darry had been there. He’d been putting it off for weeks, well, months now, and the fear of what kind of money he owed was starting to eat away at him. He’d been putting as much as he could aside, but he had a feeling it wasn’t even close to enough, and if he didn’t find out the actual number soon he was worried he was going to give himself an ulcer.

But he couldn’t say that to his friends. He had everything handled as far as they knew. Darry had kept them going before, now it was simply Soda’s turn.

So he shrugged and said, “It’s not like I go every day anyway, what’s the big deal?”

Steve and Two-Bit shared a look, then eventually Steve said, “Nothing, I guess, it’s just—”

But before he could finish, the pan of bacon caught on fire.

“Damn it!” Soda said as he to the cabinet to grab a lid.

“What time are you heading over there? I’ll meet you,” Pony asked, hardly glancing up. This too had become part of their morning ritual.

“Glory, I don’t know,” He ran through the list of things he needed to do in his head. Finally, he got the lid over the fire, snuffing out the flames. “Probably not until 5:30 That’s when we’re supposed to meet the doctor and I’ve got some stuff I gotta do after work.”

“We’ll swing by, too,” Two-Bit said.

Soda was going to tell him not to worry about it, no sense in all four of them going today, not when they could spread their visits out. But Pony was already nodding, “Yeah, that’d probably be good for him. He’s gonna be in a mood though, just be ready.”

Soda didn’t see why today would be any different. Darry spent most days in a mood lately. Quick to anger and bouts of silence, you never quite knew what would set him off. They’d all been dealing with it, so why Pony felt the need to warn their friends Soda couldn’t say, but Steve had a surprisingly thoughtful look when he said, “Hell, I’d be in a mood too if it were me.”

Soda looked at them, confused. He felt like he was out of step with the rest of the group, like somewhere along the way all their wires got crossed. He was going to ask, but just as he began the sentence he caught a glance at the clock on the wall and cursed again.

“I’m running late, see you hoodlums at the hospital.” He grabbed the last piece of burnt bacon and headed for the door.

“Hey just remember—” Pony began, but whatever he said got lost behind the slam of the screen door. Soda thought about turning back to ask what he said, but he really didn’t have time. He’d have to break about a dozen laws just to make it to work before he had to clock in. But it wasn’t a big deal, he’d just ask him later.

Soda got off early at 3:00 (something he hated to ask for, but his boss didn’t seem to mind) so he’d have time to run to the financial department before driving over to see Darry and his doctor at 5:30.

Soda was scared. Terrified of whatever he was about to find out. He didn’t know how he’d be able to handle another bill coming his way. Just the thought of it kept him up most nights. Because there had always been someone else to deal with these sorts of problems, his parents, Darry. It looked simple enough from the outside, but now that he was here, and he was the only one to take care of it, he felt like a little kid forced to sit at the grown up table. Like everyone could see through his facade.

So he did the only thing he knew to do. He changed out of his uniform and into his nice dress shirt and his shoes that were a little less scuffed than the rest. He made sure to get all of the grease out of his hair and all the grime off his face before he walked inside. He tried to be tuff, stand tall like Darry would. But his hands still shook when he opened the door. His heart still raced when the receptionist looked up at him.

“Hi there, what can I do for you today?”

“Hi, ma’am. I haven’t been getting bills for my brother’s, uh, stay? I guess you call it. I wasn’t sure what I needed to do to set up some sort of payment plan or something.”

Despite practicing this speech about a hundred times over the past couple of days his voice still shook. He cringed, kicking himself for his poor start.

But the woman behind the counter just gave him a gentle smile. “You sure you want to set it up? I could talk to your parents if you’d like.”

“No ma’am. That ain’t an option. Just tell me what I need to do.”

She studied him for a moment, something soft in her eyes that Soda couldn’t look at too long without feeling an ache in his chest. Finally, she said, “Alright then, can you tell me his name?”

“Darrel Curtis Junior.”

She frowned. “Darrel Curtis, Darrel Curtis. Why does that name sound familiar?”

She started rifling through one drawer, then another, then another. Soda’s nerves left him vibrating by the time she found whatever she was looking for. But when she looked up at him, there was a joy in her expression Soda didn’t know what to do with.

“Oh of course! Darry, your brother was the one that was shot.”

Soda didn’t realize it was such common knowledge. “Yes ma’am.”

“Well no wonder you didn’t get a bill, it’s been covered.”

Soda froze. He wasn’t sure he heard her right. Or if he he even understood what she meant. Maybe ‘been covered’ meant something different in a hospital than it did in the real world. “Been covered?”

She tilted her head. “No one told you?”

“I’ve been a little busy lately. Sorta hard to reach.”

She nodded. “Well, there’s been all sorts of charity events going on for you brother around town. The high school had a few fundraisers, a dance-a-thon I think, a bake sale, too. Some local businesses did charity drives, and I believe some just donated outright.”

“Donated?” Soda asked, the word rolling around in his mouth. It felt strange, foreign.

She nodded, “Yes, I believe—” She glanced down at the file, “Yes, there’s been sizable donations from a Cooper’s Construction and a Moore’s Law Firm. Some others, too. The DX Station over off of Montgomery Street. The High School, as I mentioned. I know that they were crushed to hear that a recent graduate had been involved in such a tragic accident. Students have been doing all sorts of volunteer work to help raise money.”

There was a ringing in his ears that made the woman nearly impossible to hear. He didn’t think he could even begin to comprehend what she was telling him. Maybe she was lying? Felt sorry for the down on his luck kid standing in her office. But why would she? The hospital didn’t care about them. They just wanted their money. “Can I see?”

“Of course.”

She handed him the file and sure enough it was all there, just like she said. Name after name, check after check, hundreds of people had donated. People they saw all the time, like Mr. Cooper or Mrs. Miller, but even people Soda had hardly said two words to in years. He noticed a sizable donation from the class of ’69, the class he would have been graduating with in another lifetime. 

As he read through the list of names something uncomfortable formed in his chest. So many people who’d never given a damn about them before suddenly throwing money at them like it was nothing.

“So what more do I owe?” He eventually asked, voice quiet.

She smiled. “Unless something catastrophic happens I can’t imagine you’ll owe a thing. In fact, you’ll probably have some left over. I haven’t seen this sort of money donated in a long time.”

He glanced up at from the file. “Leftover? So it goes to the hospital or something?”

“Oh no, all money donated goes directly to the family to use how they see fit. Usually, it’s used for modification you may need to make for his long-term care, whatever that may be. But ultimately the decision will be up to you.”

Soda looked back at the file, all the money that had been donated, all the commas and zeros that were written across the pages. He could have figured it out. He would have figured it out. Why did everyone think he was so incapable of keeping it together?

The receptionist broke him out of his thoughts. “I’m glad I got to give you some good news, that so rarely happens in my line of work.”

He gave her a tight smile and handed her back the file. “Yes ma’am. It’s certainly not what I expected to hear when I came by today.”

He fought to keep his voice even, because it wasn’t that woman’s fault that apparently all of Tulsa thought the Curtis brothers had become their new pet project. But he couldn’t accept all this. He wouldn’t. He was going to have to give the money back, every last penny. And he knew the first person he was going to start with.

“We ain’t a damn charity case.”

Mr. Cooper blinked once. Twice. Three times. His expression betrayed nothing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he said, “Well, hello to you too.”

They were standing in the middle of some construction site up in the north side of town. With the July sun beating down on them, Soda felt like he might melt into the gravel beneath his feet. He’d been there all of five minutes and already his skin was drenched with sweat. 

But Soda was so angry he hardly noticed it. Because the whole drive over he thought about it, about the money people were forking out, acting like they were some down on their luck orphan boys from one of Pony’s novels. And they weren’t. They’d been doing just fine on their own since their parents died and they’d do just fine now.

And unfortunately for Mr. Cooper, that drive meant he would take the brunt of Soda’s rage. “We didn’t ask for your money, for anyone’s money. We can figure it out on our own.”

Mr. Cooper sighed and took a sweeping glance around the construction site. After a moment he said, “Why don’t we talk about this in my office? Nothing ever got solved baking in the July heat.”

He walked off, giving Soda no choice but to follow, and led him into one of the trailers. The lights were dim, it took Soda’s eyes a moment to adjust, and the temperature was considerably cooler. He motioned for Soda to sit down in the vinyl chair in front of his desk. 

“You want something to drink?”

Soda shook his head.

“Nothing? No water? Sweet tea? Oh look—” He pulled out a Pepsi and said, “A soda for Soda?”

Soda just stared at him.

Mr. Cooper sighed. “Yeah, that went about as well as I expected. You get that joke a lot?”

Soda stared for a moment longer, and eventually said, voice sharp, “Surprisingly less than you’d think.”

Mr. Cooper opened the Pepsi and took a long swig before sitting down at his desk. “Alright, Soda, now, what brings you down here on this hot July day?”

Soda practically spat the words out when he said, “I think I made it pretty clear out there, didn’t I? I want to return the money you donated.”

Mr. Cooper’s eyebrows raised. “Return it, gracious, that seems like a pretty lofty goal there. Any reason?”

Wasn’t he listening? “I told you already, we ain’t a charity case. I can pay the bills just fine without some Soc throwing around money and acting like we can’t get by.”

Mr. Cooper didn’t have the good sense to look cowed. In fact, Soda’s words apparently didn’t phase him, because he did something much worse.

He laughed.

Soda gripped the armrest of the vinyl chair and bit out, “Why the hell do you think that’s funny?”

Mr. Cooper glanced at Soda and quickly schooled his expression, though there was still a hint of mirth in his eye as said, “Sorry, Soda, honest. I’m just not sure I’ve ever been called a Soc before, that’s all.”

“Well, you got money, don’t ya?”

Mr. Cooper tilted his head. “I think we both know there’s more to being a Soc in this town than just having money. Just like there’s more to being a Greaser than that stuff you boys put in your hair.”

Soda considered that for a moment then said, “Well, Soc or not, that don’t change nothing. I still want to return the money to you. We don’t need it, I got it handled.”

The man was quiet for a moment. “What’s your plan then, go to every person in town who’s donated money and pay them back?”

Soda nodded, “If that’s what it takes.”

“It’s an awfully long list, kid.”

Soda shrugged. “Then it’ll take an awfully long time, but I’ll get it done.”

Mr. Cooper studied Soda for a long time, long enough to make him squirm.

“What?”

Mr. Cooper shook his head, “Nothing. Just, gosh. You’re just like your brother.”

That stopped Soda in his tracks. Just like Darry? No one had ever said that to him before. In fact, it was usually the opposite. When he got in trouble at school teachers were always quick to remind him that Darrel Curtis was much better behaved, and coaches bemoaned the fact he was no star athlete like his brother. There was a brief moment when he was a kid that he’d all but convinced himself he’d been switched at birth the differences felt so large. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the comment, but it made him feel oddly warm.

But he certainly didn’t want Mr. Cooper to know that, not when he was so clearly trying to distract him, so he scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Nah, that’s Pony and Darry, it’s like seeing double sometimes.”

Mr. Cooper smiled, “Trust me, kid, I’ve gotten to know your brother pretty well over the past few years, I think I know when a mini Darrel Curtis walks through my door.”

Soda shrugged the words off, filing them away for later. “Then you know good and well we can’t take this money. Darry would have already paid it back in full. Hell, he would have put a stop to this before someone signed the first check.”

Mr. Cooper leaned back in his chair, considering the statement. “That may be true if he thought the money was just for him, but if it were you or Pony hurt I think he’d be willing to grab onto any port in the storm.”

Soda shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t. Darry always makes it work. He’s like our dad about that sort of thing. He’d never take a handout like this.”

Mr. Cooper sighed. “Look, Soda, I get where you’re coming from, okay? I do. If I were in your shoes I’d probably be in here doing the same thing.”

“If you feel that way then why would you do this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Soda shook his head. “No, it’s not. Even if we needed this money for his hospital stay— which we don’t— it’s way too much. It’s like you people think we’re living in filth or something, and we’re not. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

Mr. Cooper drummed his fingers across his desk, considering Soda for a moment, eventually, he said, “Soda, have you thought about what’s going to happen when Darry gets out?”

Soda didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. What’s your brother going to do? Is he going to have to have long-term medical care after this?”

Soda hadn’t really thought about it like that, he’d been so busy worrying about Darry staying alive, and then getting out of the hospital, he had no clue what he’d be like once he got out. Soda just assumed things would go back to normal, but what if they didn’t? His heart started pounding just at the idea of it. Another thing to add to his ever growing list of fears. “I don’t know, we have a meeting with his doctor today.”

Mr. Cooper nodded. “Okay. And what about work? Will he be able to work at all? Because he certainly won’t be roofing.”

Soda narrowed his gaze. “What, the guy gets shot and you won’t hire him back?”

Mr. Cooper just raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Soda. I’d have the kid back in a heartbeat but you and I both know he can’t roof anymore, can’t do any construction. So what can I hire him for? To work the front offices? He hated that more than he hated roofing, and Lord knows he hated roofing.”

Soda didn’t want to admit that the older man was right. “We’ll figure something out, we always do.”

Mr. Cooper studied him for a moment, as if choosing his next words very carefully. “And what about your bail money?”

Soda gave him a suspicious look. “What about it?”

“You got that back, right? After Darry’s charges were dropped. It was a hefty fine they gave him, and I know you didn’t come to me even though I offered, and I doubt you boys asked anyone else. Knowing Darry he probably figured something out seeing as how the kid is allergic to asking for help.”

Soda went to speak but Mr. Cooper held up his hand. “Doesn’t matter where you got the money from, but it’s yours now to use how you see fit. Do you have any plans for it?”

Soda didn’t have a clue. He’d just tucked the money back in the same envelope Darry had kept it in, next to his parents' handwriting, and figured it’d be going to the same place all his extra money was going right now.

“Probably pay the hospital bills, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”

Mr. Cooper sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “All I’m trying to say is this. Your brother’s going to get out of this rehab facility soon, and when he does, he’s going to be a little lost. Life’s going to be different for him in a lot of ways, and it may be hard, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. But if he has any chance of it being good then he’s going to need you and Pony and the rest of your friends to help him figure himself out.”

“Okay, fine. But we can do that without people throwing money at us. We don’t need everyone feeling sorry for us.”

There was an intensity to Mr. Cooper's words when he spoke. “But it’s not people feeling sorry for you, Soda. It’s people in this town finally waking up and realizing what they’ve done to a boy who didn’t deserve any of this. Darrel Curtis should have never been put in that situation, and apparently, some people are starting to get that. But no matter what they do, it’ll never be enough. Not for you and Pony who had to watch their brother get shot. Not for Darry who’s going to have to live every day for the rest of his life with the repercussions of that gunshot wound.

"And sure, all this money might have to go to his long-term medical care. But there’s also a chance, a small chance, but still a chance, that maybe he can use some of it to figure out where to go from here. And your brother deserves that chance, Soda. More than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Soda pulled his gaze away from Mr. Cooper and stared at the Pepsi on his desk. He didn’t know what to do, it all felt too big. He hated that he couldn’t give this money back, he felt like a dog begging for table scraps. Sure he wanted to help Darry out, more than anything. But not like this. Not by getting handouts from all the people that were hell-bent on throwing him in jail just a few short months ago. He wasn’t sure he could swallow his pride to let it happen.

When he didn’t answer, Mr. Cooper said, “Have you talked to Darry about all this?”

Soda shrugged, “He hasn’t been the easiest to talk to lately.”

Mr. Cooper’s expression softened. “How ‘bout this then, think about it for a bit, at least while your brother’s still in the hospital. And after this is all over, you still want to give it back, well, come to me and I’ll help you do it myself, deal?”

Soda blinked up at him. “Why?”

Mr. Cooper smiled. “You boys deserve to be happy. And if giving that money back does that, then well, who needs money anyway? Besides, like I said, you and Darry are cut from the same cloth, and you know what that means?”

“What?”

“I know for a fact that you can figure this whole thing out on your own because that’s exactly what your brother would do.”

It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. Maybe Soda could figure something out between now and then. 

Maybe.

Soda’s visit with Mr. Cooper set him back an hour, so by the time he rolled into the rehab parking lot it was already 6:30.

He smiled at Nurse Brown as he walked down the hall, nodded at Dr. Lewis; people who had become staples in his daily life. It was strange that the beige walls of the rehab clinic had become so familiar to him; he’d been there so often it was starting to feel like a second home. A fact that offered him no sense of comfort.

He paused when he got to Darry’s room to try and prepare himself for how his evening was about to go. The tension in that room could be almost unbearable some days, and Soda wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it right then. He felt too close to the edge.

He was surprised and a little relieved to see Two-Bit and Steve still there with Pony. The room was tight and cramped, an uncomfortable space when they all tried to squeeze in. Darry’s bed, which the doctors rarely let him out of, took up most of the space.

The three were looking at the newspaper chatting about something. Darry, for his part, seemed disinterested. He was staring out the small window opposite the wall from Soda. Something his brother spent a great deal of time doing lately.

When Pony turned and saw him watching he waved him over. “Where ya been? You missed the doctor.”

Soda shrugged as he grabbed the last remaining chair. “Work was real busy, had some things I had to run around and do, didn’t realize how late it’d gotten.”

Pony gave him a frown, and guilt flared up in his chest for just a moment before he pushed it away. His brother would be late too if he had half the things Soda had to do.

Before Pony could give him a hard time, Soda looked over at Darry and said, “So, what’d the doc say?”

But if his brother heard him he gave no indication of it. Instead, he kept his gaze glued to the window, as if there wasn’t another soul there.

Before the silence could become uncomfortable, Pony jumped in, “He said he’s real impressed with Darry’s progress so far. His breathing has improved a lot. And he’s starting to do real good at walking around. They think in about a month we can start talking about getting him home, so they’re gonna start putting together an at home care plan for you and me that way we know how to help.”

A month? That still felt like a lifetime away, especially after Darry had already been there two months, and another month in the ICU. No wonder he was tense.

But Soda didn’t say that, just smiled. “Well looks like Muscles gets to get out of here sooner than we thought, huh? You’re over the hump. A month ain’t nothing now.”

Darry still didn’t say anything.

The moment would have been awkward, but bless him, Two-Bit could cut through anything. He smiled bright at Soda and said, “We were just telling Superman here the other good news.”

“What’s that? You’re gonna quit stealing all our food every morning.”

“Nah you’d miss seeing me. I’m talking about the big front page story in the paper.”

“What is it?”

“You mean in all your world traveling today you ain’t read the paper?” Steve said.

“I’m more surprised the two of you did. I didn’t think y’all knew how to read.”

“Well shoot, if you’ve got that kinda attitude then we ain’t gonna tell you what it says,” Two-Bit said, a glint in his eye as he pulled the newspaper away.

But Soda ripped it out of his hand before he could get too far. Not that there was anywhere for him to go in the tiny room.

When he looked down the paper was crumpled and the ink smudged, but the words were as clear as day. In big bold letters, the front page of the Tulsa Tribune read:

TULSA POLICE CHIEF AND LOCAL BUSINESS OWNER ARRESTED IN CONNECTION TO MURDER

For a minute Soda forgot how to breathe.

He kept reading the headline over and over again, positive he was missing something. He pulled his gaze down further and he saw the mugshots of Chief Holden and Mr. Smith staring back at him. It was them, no question about it.

They’d been arrested.

“You’re kidding,” Soda said.

Steve shook his head, “I heard they didn’t make bail or nothing. They ain’t never getting out.”

A wave of something crashed over Soda. What was it? Relief? Gratitude? Anger? So many emotions were washing over him he couldn’t begin to understand them all.

Because he was glad. Those men had caused torment to more than just his family, they’d left a path of destruction in their wake that some people would never recover from.

And yet, a part of him couldn’t help but be angry, because why had it taken so long? Why had they been allowed to walk the streets for years after the murder? Why had they been able to cause his brother so much grief?

He thought he’d be overwhelmed with joy when he got the news, but mostly he just felt tired. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that feeling.

But Soda couldn’t dwell on it too long, because for the first time, Darry spoke. “Did you ever hear what happened to Paul after— well, after?” 

His voice was quiet and a bit rough around the edges, like he hadn’t spoken in a while. Soda got his first good look at him since he walked in. His eyes bruised purple, his pallor grey, the scars from the night he was jumped stood out in sharp contrast. He’d lost weight since he’d been there leaving his cheeks hollow and his eyes too big. 

Soda was shocked he’d spoken at all, but more than that, he was damn near floored that he’d mentioned Paul. No one had brought him up in all the months since the shooting. Something Soda had been thankful for.

Because every time Soda thought of the Soc, he kept replaying the last time he saw him. When he was standing in the courtyard and Soda thought he’d just lost everything. He couldn’t escape the feeling of his fist connecting with his flesh, the broken expression when he told him Darry was dead. How he said he came to apologize.

Soda pushed the memory away. He hated that day, hated remembering the grief that had consumed him. So when he spoke, it was maybe with a bit more force than necessary. “Haven’t heard heads or tails of him since the trial. Bastard probably cut town to stay out of jail. It’s what I’d expect from a weasel like him.”

Darry pulled his gaze away from the window for the first time, and Soda was surprised at the hurt in his eyes. For a moment, he considered telling him the truth, but he pushed the thought away just as quickly. It was better that his brother didn’t know. 

But Soda forgot he wasn’t the only one who saw Paul that day. Two-Bit had been there, too. The older boy gave Soda a sharp look, and for a moment, Soda thought he was going to rat him out. But he never got a chance.

Steve broke in and said, “I heard he’s out on bail right now, he’s supposed to have a trial in a few months.”

Darry shifted his gaze towards Steve and he studied him for a moment. Something passed between the two of them Soda didn’t understand, and eventually, Darry nodded.

Two-Bit stood up then, “I think it’s about time for me to head out, I gotta long day tomorrow of doing nothing.”

Steve stood up too. Soda desperately wished he could go with them. Exhaustion ran deep in his bones, and he hardly felt like he could take another step. All he wanted to do was go home and collapse in his bed. But he’d just gotten there, and Pony wasn’t showing any signs of moving, so he was stuck for a little while longer. If he could make it an hour, then maybe he could rest.

But the silence after Two-Bit and Steve left made Soda want to leave anyway.

Darry went back to looking out the window. Pony glanced over at Soda and shrugged. Darry was like that a lot lately, you had to talk around him and hope you didn’t say anything to set him off. Soda sighed, searching for something to say, because he couldn’t sit here in silence for an hour staring at these walls. That’s when all his worries came creeping back.

Then he remembered what today was. July 1st.

And that meant one thing.

“Pony, you got any big plans for your birthday coming up in a few weeks?”

Pony smiled, “Other than fighting you for the keys to the truck? I can’t think of any.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. He knew it the second he saw Darry stiffen. But how was Soda supposed to know that? He bit back a groan as Darry’s sharp voice broke through the room. “There ain’t no way you’re ready to be driving kid.”

Pony, for his part, just gave him a look. “What are you talking about, Dar? I’ve driven plenty.”

“No, I know you haven’t. Because I know Soda hasn’t had time with everything he’s got going on, and I sure as hell haven’t been taking you out.”

It was true, Soda had only taken Pony driving once or twice, it was one of those things that fell through the cracks with the way the past year had been. Just something else to add to the list of things Soda felt guilty about.

But Pony shook his head. “Two-Bit’s taken me though. Steve too if you can believe it.”

Darry scoffed. “Great, Two-Bit Matthews taught my kid brother how to drive. The guy that thinks a red light is a suggestion.”

“Let’s not make more problems than we’ve already got, Darry. I’m sure he’ll pass the test and we can just do some more driving lessons after,” Soda tried, but it wasn’t enough.

“You think the kid will ever wanna ride around with us after he’s got that license? Of course not. He’ll be gone who knows where and we’ll be sitting around worrying all night 'cause the kid can’t drive.”

“'The kid' is right here,” Pony snapped back. “And I’m fine Dar. What’s your big plan anyway? You ain’t getting out of here for another month, so it’s not like you can teach me.”

Hurt flashed in Darry’s eyes, only to quickly be replaced with anger. “Excuse me for being cautious. But considering that the reason our parents are dead is a car wreck, I’m a bit touchy with the thought of you driving without knowing your parking break from your gear shift.”

Pony gave him a look, and Darry just stared back. Finally, their kid brother shook his head and said, “Forget it. There ain’t no point in talking to you when you’re like this.” He made his way to the door and slammed it shut before either brother could stop him.

Soda shot his brother a look, “Nice one, Dar.” He was so tired of his brother running hot and cold.

“He’s gotta quit smarting off all the time,” Darry said.

“Yeah? Well, you gotta quit being a pain in the ass all the time,” Soda snapped back.

Darry didn’t say anything, just turned back towards the window. Well, that was fine by Soda, he didn’t have much to say to his brother right now anyway. Instead he went down the hall to look for Pony.

He found his brother in the courtyard, cigarette in one hand and book in another.

“You alright?” He asked.

Pony blinked up at him, confusion written across his features. “What are you doing out here?”

Whatever Soda had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Ain’t it obvious? Checking on you.” 

“Okay? Thanks, I guess. But I’m not the one you should be checking on. “

Soda felt like he’d stepped into a foreign land. Pony and Darry had hundreds, maybe even thousands of fights through the years. And Soda had always followed Pony to make sure he was okay. Because as much as he loved his big brother, his anger could be all consuming, and he could frighten Pony without ever meaning to. Plus, Darry was always okay.

So having Pony out here acting like Soda had lost his mind felt odd. Like he’d missed the last step on the staircase.

Pony must have sensed his confusion because his expression softened as he said, “Do you not realize what today is?”

“What? Monday? What’s that got to do with—”

“It’s July 1st.”

“Okay?”

Pony rolled his eyes. “What happened last July 1st?”

“How am I supposed to—”

But then it hit him. And suddenly, so many things about this day made sense. Darry’s anger, everyone’s shock he wasn’t there, the guys making a point to visit Darry today.

A year ago, Darry got jumped.

A year ago, this whole mess started.

“Damn it.”

Soda collapsed on the bench next to Pony and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Pony knocked his shoulder against Soda’s. “Hey, you’ve had a lot going on, I get it. Darry does too, I’m sure.”

“Why didn’t you remind me?”

Pony frowned. “We tried to this morning at breakfast, you were too busy running out the door.”

Soda sighed. Their morning conversation made a lot more sense now. “How was he before I got here?”

“Honestly? Not great. But can you blame him? He feels bad all the time, he can’t do a fraction of the stuff he used to, and he’s cooped up in that room. You know he’s going stir crazy in there.”

Soda glanced over at his brother. “He still shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Pony smiled. “I know that. Glory he knows that, too. Don’t you think he’s in that stupid room beating himself up about that very thing?”

“I guess, I just hate to see you two fight.”

Pony laughed. “Soda if this past year has taught me anything it’s that I love Dar. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him. I nearly lost my mind when he got shot. And I finally realized you were right.”

Soda smirked. “I was right? Oh do elaborate, I’m begging.”

Pony rolled his eyes, “Calm down. Just what you’ve been saying about how similar the two of us are, I get that now. We feel things the same way I think, we hurt the same way.

“But Soda, that also means the two of us ain’t ever gonna stop butting heads. We’re always gonna fight, we’re both too stubborn not too. And I finally realized that’s okay. That don’t mean I love him any less, or that he hates me, that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Pony turned to look at Soda. Really looked at him, and said, “That’s how I know he needs you right now, Soda. More than me. I get why he’s upset, glory, I’d be hell to be around if I’d had the year he had. He needs your help to get through to him today, man. I should know, because I’d need you too.”

Soda couldn’t help but marvel at how far his brother had come. A year ago, Soda would have been soothing Pony’s worries from this kind of fight with his brother, trying to convince him Darry wasn’t about to ship him off to some home. But now, the two of them seemed to understand each other in ways that maybe Soda never could, not with how similar the two of them were. The thought sent an ache in his chest, a fear that his brothers wouldn’t need him around one day.

But the rest of him was just happy to see his brothers finally understand each other.

So when he smiled at Pony, it felt genuine, the first real smile he’d had in weeks. “When’d you get so smart, kid?”

He expected Pony to brush it off like normal, offer him a quick joke, but he didn’t. Instead, he got a real earnest look in his eye and said, “Guess I get it from my big brothers.”

Soda didn’t know how he’d done it on his own, but somehow Darry had moved from his bed to the chair next to the window by the time Soda made it back to his room, face buried in his hands.

“I didn’t think you were supposed to get up by yourself,” Soda said, leaning against the wall.

Darry’s head shot up, something delicate in his expression that quickly hardened.

“Shouldn’t you be checking on your brother?” Darry snapped, voice sharp.

“I am.”

Darry rolled his eyes. “I don’t need my kid brother in here checking on me. I’m doing just fine.”

Soda didn’t say anything at first, just moved to the chair across from Darry and sat down. His brother wouldn’t look at him. “No you’re not, Darry.”

But Darry couldn’t take it. Soda could see it in the pull of his shoulders, the strain around his eyes. The way he ran his hands through his hair just a bit too rough. His brother needed to move, to do something. That’s how he dealt with feelings like this. If they were at home, he’d be folding laundry, or washing dishes, or sweeping the floor, or mowing the lawn. Something to keep him busy, to settle the thoughts racing in his mind.

But Darry couldn’t do any of those things. He was trapped. In this room. In his body. All he could do was sit there with his thoughts.

Eventually, his brother bit out, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him, I know. I don’t need you coming in here making me feel guilty.”

“That ain’t what I’m doing, Darry.”

“I screwed up, okay? I know I screwed up.”

“You didn’t screw up—”

“Kid’s about to turn sixteen and all I can do is yell at him about driving? No wonder he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Darry scoffed. “He should, I would.”

I do hung in the air unsaid.

The silence between them was thick, so thick you could cut through it with a knife. Soda didn’t know what to say, how to fix everything for his brother like everyone assumed he could, so he said the only thing he knew to be true, even if he wasn’t sure it would help.

“I owe you an apology.”

Darry’s head finally swung towards him. “I don’t remember you in here blowing a gasket.”

Soda shook his head. “Not about that. I forgot what today was.”

Realization flooded Darry’s eyes. He shrugged. “Yeah, well, if I could have forgotten I would have, too.”

The simpleness of the statement made Soda’s guilt flare up all over again. “I’ve just been so busy between work and bills and everything else that it slipped my mind. But that don’t make it right. I shouldn’t have let all that stuff come before being here for you. I shouldn’t have missed that big meeting with your doctor today. I’m sorry, Darry.”

Darry shook his head. “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for. I know how it is, Soda. It’s a lot to keep it all going.”

And Darry did know, he realized. More than anyone. “I just don’t know how you do it all. I feel like I’m barely keeping it together.”

Darry scoffed. “Looks to me like you’re doing better at it than I ever was.”

They were words that Darry had said to him more than once. But it was the first time they sounded so bitter. Soda gave him a gentle look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His brother pulled his gaze away again and began picking at his nails. “You’re doing so good. Pony’s happy, you two never fight. He did great in school these last few months. Track, too. And you’ve got that fancy new job, and your boss likes you so much he’s already given you a promotion. And you’re paying for—” he faltered, for just a moment, then, “paying for my hospital bills. All of it. Me? I only had half of that to worry about and I still managed to screw it all up.”

Soda almost told him about the donations pouring in from the people of Tulsa, that if it wasn’t for all that money Soda would be drowning in debt right now. But he was worried Darry would have the same reaction Soda himself had and he knew that wouldn’t help anything. So he pushed the thought aside for now and asked instead, “Screw it up? Darry where is this coming from?”

The bitterness made Darry’s words sharp. “It’s what I always do Soda, don’t you get it? I mean, glory, Pony comes in here excited about driving and I gotta go and ruin that for him. I just don’t know why I can’t keep my damn mouth shut sometimes.”

Soda tried to catch his gaze, but his brother made it impossible. “Darry, this whole thing’s been a lot for you, we get that, Pony gets that. Hell, he was out there worrying about you, wondering if you were okay. Told me I was an idiot for chasing after him when you were in here hurting.”

Darry shook his head. “He shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“But he is, we all are, Dar. You don’t have to be okay all the time.”

“Yes I do,” Darry muttered, low enough Soda didn’t think he was supposed to hear. But he did.

“No, Darry, you don’t. I swear man, you have more reason to be upset than anyone I know. And even if you didn’t, even if your life was all butterflies and rainbows. Why on earth do you think you have to keep it together all the time? You wouldn’t expect that from me. From Pony.”

“Because it’s all my fault!” The words were sharp and ugly. Filled with so much anger and self-loathing Soda wondered how long they’d been rolling around in his brother's head.

“Dar,” Soda said, reaching for his brother, but Darry pulled away. “That’s not true.”

When Darry looked at him, his eyes were sharp with tears, and his expression was broken in a way Soda had never seen before. “It is Soda. Don’t you get that? Everything that’s gone wrong for the past two years has been my fault. The only reason Mom and Dad got hit by that train was to get the stupid frosting for my stupid birthday cake. The only reason Pony ran away was because I hit him. The only reason Johnny stabbed Bob was because I lost my temper. The only reason Johnny and Dally are dead is because I spent so much time being angry.”

“Darry—”

But his brother didn’t stop. “And then Paul! I couldn’t help him out when he needed me, I couldn’t keep him safe from his dad. I couldn’t be there for him after he found out about his mom. I was so dang angry at him at that rumble that I didn’t care how upset he was. I knew something was wrong with him that night, Soda. I did. I could see it in his eyes and I didn’t care. I beat him up anyway. Just turned a blind eye when my friend was so clearly hurting because I was too busy being selfish and bitter and angry. About the life he got to have when I had to give it all up. How he left me for college and called me a Grease and acted like I was nothing. And now everything’s spiraled into this nightmare I don’t think I can wake up from and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Soda’s heart ached as he listened to his brothers words, he wished desperately he could help him, but he didn’t know what to do. What to say.

Soda was never very clever with words. At least not when they counted.

“Dar, buddy. You gotta breathe, none of that’s true, not a word of it.”

“Yes, it is, Soda. But you know what’s worse? I know I deserve to be here, and I know the reason I keep ending up here is my temper, I know that. But I can’t stop being angry. I wake up every day angry that Mom and Dad are dead. And that I had to give up on school, and do a job I hated. A job I wish I could do now but I can’t because my body doesn’t even work right anymore. I’m angry that everything hurts all the time and I can’t breathe right or even walk from my bed to a chair two feet away without a damn nurse helping me. I’m angry that I’ve been stuck in this room for months and I’m going to keep being stuck in it. And I’m angry that once I get out of here there’s nothing left for me.”

Darry’s voice broke on the last word, and that’s when Soda realized. Darry was crying. Desperate in a way Soda had never seen him before. Not when their parents died. Not when Pony ran away. Now when Johnny and Dally died. Not when he was jumped. Not even when he was arrested. His brother, who had everything figured out for as long as Soda could remember, seemed so lost in that moment, so tired, so broken down.

And Soda didn’t have the words to fix any of it.

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He closed the gap between himself and his brother and pulled him into a hug. He felt Darry stiffen for just a moment, then he grabbed onto Soda like a lifeline. 

Soda ran a hand through his brother’s hair the same way their mom used to do.“There’s plenty left for you, Darry. Me and Pony for one thing.”

Darry took in a shaky breath. “You boys don’t need me anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we need you.”

But he felt Darry shake his head. “You don’t Soda, and that’s okay. I don’t want you boys to have to need me forever, I want you both to be able to live your own lives. But you two were what kept me going after Mom and Dad died. And now that you have it all figured out I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

His voice was laced with grief, it painted every shuttering breath, every hitch in his cadence. Soda didn’t know what to do, what to say. He’d never had to be this person for his brother before, not a lifeline like this. If Darry needed to break down he’d go to their mom or dad, never his kid brother.

But Darry couldn’t do that now, there was no one left to help him carry all his heartache.

So Soda ran a hand between his shoulder blades, trying to ground his brother, he could feel him shake beneath his hand.

“Darry, where on earth is all of this coming from? You’re gonna make yourself sick worrying like this.”

Darry shrugged. “It’s all I can think about. I just lay here staring at these white walls all day and it just keeps rolling around in my head. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Soda had been so busy since Darry got shot trying to keep them afloat that he hadn’t had time to deal with the after effects. Certainly not how it made him feel. Not how he woke up almost every night with nightmares of seeing his brother shot. Not how every silence seemed to be filled by the dreaded sound of his brother’s heart rate monitor when his heart stopped. 

But Darry, who hadn’t stopped moving since their parents died, didn’t have that option. He had to be still for perhaps the first time in his entire life. A man who was constantly moving, who worked through his grief by doing task and keeping himself busy, never slowing down to let the thoughts catch up with him. And here he was now, body broken, too tired to move, too weak to get out of bed on his own. Forced to be alone with his worst thoughts until one of the gang came by to distract him. No wonder he was so worked up, this place was like its own kind of prison.

Soda flinched. Then it hit him.

It was like its own kind of prison.

What was the point in fighting so hard to keep Darry free if they were just going to lock him away in the end?

Soda pulled away from Darry and offered him a smile.

“You know what? Forget this. We’re getting out of here for a while.”

Darry blinked up at him, eyes still wet, confusion written across his features. “What are you talking about? I ain’t going nowhere. I can’t.”

Soda knew he sounded crazy, but at that moment he didn’t care. “Come on, you’ve been cooped up in this place for months. You ain’t living in here, Dar. You’re locked away like you’re some sort of prisoner. And you ain’t a prisoner, Darrel Curtis. And I’ll be damned if the world treats you like one.”

Darry rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. “And what exactly do you plan on doing?”

Soda’s smile widened. “Ain’t it obvious? We’re gonna teach Pony how to drive.”

Darry gave the door a nervous glance as he ran a hand along his chest, thinking. Soda knew he was scared. Soda was scared too, but his brother needed to get out of there, needed to see there was more left for him outside of these four walls. Needed to remember that people loved him just for him, not because of what he could do for them.

“I don’t know Soda.”

“We’ll be real careful, Dar, I swear. You trust me right?”

Darry pulled his gaze towards Soda and studied him for a long time. Soda didn’t know what he was searching for, but he prayed his brother could find it.

Eventually, he nodded. “Of course I trust ya, Pepsi. More than anybody else.”

A grin stretched across Soda’s face. “Good. Then it’s time for a good ol’ fashioned Greaser jailbreak.”

Soda went and told Pony their plan, and when his brother smiled at him there was a glint in his eye Soda hadn’t seen in a while, maybe even years. The two split up, Soda to grab a pair of sweats out of the truck he kept forgetting to take in the house, Pony to nab a wheelchair.

By the time Pony managed to find one unoccupied and free from watchful nurses, Soda had helped Darry out of his hospital clothes and into the sweats. They moved him to the wheelchair, a slow and laborious process that left Darry’s shoulders tense with pain and his breath ragged in a way that made Soda nervous. Enough so that he was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. But then Darry smiled up at Soda, with that smile of his that reminded him of when they were kids. And Soda knew it was the right call.

The one upside to being at the hospital so often was that Pony and Soda knew where all the staff hung out. And more importantly, where they did not. So after checking that no one was standing outside Darry’s door, they wheeled him through the side halls and out the back exit, the walk a bit further, but necessary to escape undetected.

And finally, they slotted into place in the truck. Different places than normal. Pony in the driver’s seat, Soda on the passenger side, Darry in the middle, trying to catch his breath as he leaned his head against the glass behind them. Pony and Soda shared a worried glance, but Darry waved them off and said, “You better get driving, kid. I ain’t wasting all that energy just to sit in the parking lot.”

For the first time, only twenty-one days before his sixteenth birthday, Pony drove his brothers around. And sure the kid was a little shaky. He pumped the brakes too hard, and he followed a little too close to the car in front of him, and he forgot to turn his blinker on when he changed lanes once or twice. But Darry and Soda helped him out, cutting up and giving their brother hell. And when Darry leaned over and steadied Pony, in the same way their father had for Soda and Darry, Soda couldn’t help but smile.

About an hour after their great escape, they pulled into the parking lot of the ice cream parlor and Pony ran inside to pick up ice cream. As soon as their brother was out of sight, Darry leaned his head over on Soda’s shoulder, breathing heavy.

Soda shot him a worried glance. “You alright, Dar?”

Darry nodded. Soda didn’t think he’d say anything, not when his breath was so ragged. But after a moment his quiet voice broke out, “Yeah. I think I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Soda reached over and squeezed his arm. “There’s still stuff waiting for you, Dar, you can’t give up on me yet. And I’ll keep saying it to you until you get it through that thick skull of yours.”

“What’s that?”

“That I’ll never stop needing my big brother.”

When Pony came back the three of them ate ice cream in their dad’s truck. The sweet smell hung in the cab, their hands just a little sticky afterward.

And when they got back to the hospital, and their little jailbreak got discovered by the nurses, they didn’t even care when they got yelled at for being irresponsible. For putting undue stress on Darry. For risking setting back his progress for months just so they could get ice cream.

Because as soon as the nurses left, the three boys looked at each other and fell into laughter. Because for the first time since their parents died, they got to have a night, one single night, where Darry wasn’t walking the line between their not quite father and not quite brother. For that night, they were simply brothers, driving around town, causing mischief and eating ice cream.

And it was the first time the three of them thought that maybe one day, they could be that again.

Chapter Text

The week before his twelfth birthday, Darry asked his parents if he could have a party. 

Soda remembered the moment well, they were all sitting down at the dinner table eating left over meatloaf for the third time that week. Soda was starting to get sick of it, but it was the days following Christmas, when construction slowed down and all the presents had been bought, and he had already learned by eight years old that meant money was tight.

He figured that was why Darry looked so despondent staring at his own meal, hardly saying a word the whole time despite the fact that Pony and Soda hadn’t stopped chatting once.

It was like Darry had his own personal raincloud hanging over his side of the dinner table, Soda reckoned thunder might start clapping at any minute. His gloom was impossible to miss, no matter how subtle his older brother thought he was being. And finally, when he sighed for what must have been the dozenth time, Dad finally said, “You alright there, son? You’ve hardly touched your peas. You’re usually asking for seconds by now.”

Darry shrugged, “I’m fine, just thinking.”

Their parents glanced at each other, then Dad said, “Care to share with the rest of us?”

Darry pulled his gaze up for the first time and looked between his parents, searching for something. Whatever it was he couldn’t seem to find, because he dropped he gaze back towards his plate and continued to push around his peas. “Nah, it won’t do me any good anyway.”

“Mrs. Jackson at school says that keeping secrets only makes us sadder,” Pony pipped in. Soda rolled his eyes. The kid started kindergarten and suddenly he knew everything.

But despite himself, Soda was getting pretty curious about Darry’s sour mood, too. He’d been moping around for days, and it was starting to get annoying to share a room with.

So Soda nodded along with his younger brother and said, “Come on, spill, Dar. All that worrying’s gonna make your brain explode or something. Then we’d have to peal your guts off the walls and stuff.”

“Soda, not at the dinner table, please,” Mom chided.

“Hear that son, everyone wants to see if they can help,” Dad continued, trying to catch his son’s gaze.

But Darry wouldn’t look up, staring at his mashed potatoes as if they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “There’s no point Dad. I already know what you’re gonna say. Hearing it’s gonna make it worse.”

Dad let out a theatrical gasp and clutched his hand over his chest, his eyes comically wide. “Gracious, you already know? I had no idea my son could predict the future.”

Darry frowned, “I’m not saying that.”

“Then how can you know?”

Darry let out a weary sigh of a man three times his age and looked up again, his expression more frustrated than before. When he spoke, his words were sharp, “Fine. You really want to know? Mark Harris is having a birthday party in a few weeks.”

Their parents blinked, apparently they were as confused as Soda was about why that would cause Darry so much grief. Eventually, Mom said slowly, “Okay, do you want to go?”

“Paul had a party back in November,” Darry continued, ignoring her question.

“Yes, I remember, down at the skating rink.”

“William’s doing something real cool for his birthday in April, his dad’s already making plans for it.”

Dad’s eyes widened, just a bit, like he seemed to catch on to what Darry was upset about. Soda didn’t know how; it just sounded like his brother was bragging about all the friends he had. “Darry, buddy—”

“I just want to have a birthday party too is all,” Darry said, so fast the words all seemed to mesh together. Soda had never heard him talk like that, his voice tinged with so much desperation.

Darry looked between his parents, and now that the words were out in the open, lying at the dinner table between them, Soda could just see the glimmer of hope he’d been afraid to latch onto before.

“I’ve got some money saved up, so I could help pay for it. And we wouldn’t have to do anything fancy or nothing, just something around the house. It could be real fun, and the guys wouldn’t mind.”

Mom’s expression shattered as she reached across the table, taking Darry’s hand in her own. “Darry, hon, if we could you know we would in a heartbeat. But it’s just so quick after Christmas, and with business being slow for your dad, I just don’t think—”

Soda watched Darry blink hard and pull his hand away, his expression shutting down. Hopeful eyes hardening. “No it’s fine Mom, don’t worry about it,” But his words were short and clipped.

“Maybe we can do something as a family, go fishing out at the lake, we haven’t done that in ages,” Dad tried.

Darry just gave him a look, and Soda could tell it was a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. Soda didn’t blame him, January was way too cold for them to go out to the lake. He thought it was a dumb idea too. But Darry didn’t say that, just cleared his throat and offered him a tight smile as he said, “That sounds great Dad, really.”

“I’m just as sorry as I can be Darry, if there was any way—”

“Can I be excused? I just remembered I have a paper due tomorrow I haven’t even gotten started on.”

Their parents shared a glance then Mom said gently, “You sure you’re alright, love?”

Darry gave her a strained smile, “Yeah of course, just forgot until now.”

If possible, her expression softened even more. “Go on then.”

When Soda went to his room a few hours later, he was surprised to find the lights off and Darry already in bed. Soda tiptoed over to his own bed and climbed in, but not before he heard Darry take a shaky breath.

“You still awake?” Soda whispered.

The silence stretched between them, and Soda thought his brother might not answer. Then after a moment, he heard Darry sigh and say, “Yeah, I’m awake.”

“You okay?” Soda asked.

He was met with silence again, but Soda wasn’t worried this time. He knew his brother just needed a minute. Darry could be that way sometimes.

When he did speak, his voice was quiet, measured.

“It’s just, being broke sucks, you know?”

There was a slight tremor there. Blink and you miss it. Very few people would have even noticed because you had to know Darry pretty well to pick up on it. But Soda knew Darry better than anyone. And he wished desperately he could do something to help his big brother out. He’d offer him all the money in his piggy bank, but he knew if Darry didn’t have enough, his $1.25 certainly wouldn’t be enough to fund Darry the birthday party of his dreams. 

So he said the only thing he knew in that moment to be true. Because if nothing else, he could commiserate. 

“Yeah. It really does.”

“Lord Soda I’ve never seen so many party decorations on the East Side. This is starting to look like a good ol’ fashion Soc affair.”

Soda glanced around the living room and sighed. Okay, so he might have gone a little overboard on the whole streamers thing, and maybe he had a few more balloons than strictly necessary, and fine, he probably didn’t need to get a fifty count bag of those little party horn things when he didn’t even know what they were actually called. But he’d never planned something like this before, and once he had the idea to throw Darry a welcome home party, he found he couldn’t let it go.

Besides, the more he thought about it he realized there had never been a party in the Curtis household before. Parties cost money their parents couldn’t spare, and there certainly wasn’t much celebration going on after they died. He knew a party couldn’t fix everything for his brother now, but maybe Darry could have fun being surrounded by people who loved him, at least for a few hours. And what’s more, with the kind of year Darry had, he deserved to be celebrated. So what if there were too many balloons?

So Soda just laughed as he stood on a chair hanging streamers and threw a roll of crepe paper at Two-Bit. “Whatever man, you’re the one that got all the paint so Pony could make a banner. Don’t act like you ain’t excited.”

Two-Bit grinned, “Well if you ain’t got a welcome home banner then it’s not really a party is it?”

Two-Bit had been his coconspirator since the beginning. Figuring out the guest list, tracking down a grill for them to cook on, planning the food. Even now, he was at the Curtis house the night before to help Soda set up, which was good because Soda didn’t think he’d be able to get finished on his own.

“You think Superman’s gonna feel up to having all these people over when he comes home?” Two-Bit asked, blowing up another balloon.

Soda shrugged. “I hope so. I mean, he don’t have to do much, no one’s gonna be expecting him to run a marathon or something. He can spend the whole party in the recliner and I don’t think anyone would mind.”

“Yeah, he might though.”

But Soda wasn’t too worried about it. Darry had been doing a lot better over the past month. Even Dr. Thompson was surprised by how much he’d improved. It was like something had switched in his brother’s brain, and he was determined to get back some control over his life.

And Soda thought having a fun afternoon surrounded by friends and family might fuel that fire a little more.

Which reminded him. 

“You written your letter for Darry yet?” Soda asked.

That’d been Pony’s idea. Ever the writer of the group. He thought it’d be nice for Darry to have letters, or cards, or notes, something to look back on, physical proof to see that they cared. Because if Steve Randle was willing to write a note saying how much he cared for you, well then, you must be one hell of a person in his life.

Soda personally didn’t love the thought of having to write his brother some sappy letter, but he thought Pony had a point. And Lord knows he certainly couldn’t judge. He’d spent the past few weeks spending every free moment he had either in the library or Mrs. Miller’s office working on his own welcome home gift for Darry, and he knew it far surpassed Pony in the ranking of “sappy gift from your little brother.” 

But Two-Bit and Steve had been dragging their feet the whole time, and he had a feeling the only reason they were even considering writing something was because Pony was making it impossible to say no.

A thought proven right when Two-Bit made a face of disgust and said, “I don’t know, I ain’t good at all that writing stuff like your brother.”

“Come on Two-Bit, it was Pony’s idea, he’ll kill us if we don’t write something.”

“Did you write yours yet?”

Soda shrugged “I’m working on it.” Then, just because it was so fun to give the usually unflappable Two-Bit Mathews a hard time, he gave him a wry smile and said, “Besides, I thought you were tuffer than that.”

Two-Bit rolled his eyes, “Writing some sappy card is tuff now?”

“Nah, but doing something you hate for someone you care about is.”

Two-Bit scoffed. “There’s a line. What romance novels you been reading during your long hours in the hospital waiting room? Because I ain’t never heard a Greaser talk like that before,” he said with more petulance in his tone than Soda had heard in a while.

“Everyone else is doing it, you really want to be the only guy in the group who can’t tell his buddy that he cares?”

Two-Bit opened his mouth once, twice, three times and still couldn’t come up with a response. And Soda couldn’t help it, he laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair he was standing on. Two-Bit always had a quick comeback at the ready, so it was nice every once in a while to be able to pull one over on him.

But that came at a cost because when Two-Bit was thrown off like this he was like a cat that fell in a bathtub, all claws and sharp teeth.

So when Two-Bit’s gaze soured, Soda knew he was in trouble. “Alright hot shot, we really wanna talk about doing something you hate then you might wanna sweep around your own porch.”

Soda looked at him, confused, trying to figure out what on earth his friend was talking about. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that man.”

“You tell that big brother of yours you’ve seen Paul?”

Soda froze, hand raised to tape a streamer to the ceiling, and turned to look at his friend. Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t that.

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Maybe because he has a right to know? You did lie to him about it,” Two-Bit said, arms crossed.

“It’s better if he doesn’t know.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were making all of Darry’s decisions for him now. My mistake.”

Anger, real anger, flashed over Soda. “I’m sorry, have you not had a front row seat to the same dynamic I have this past year? Paul’s done nothing but wreck Darry’s life over and over again, what’s him showing up to the hospital once gonna change?”

But Two-Bit shook his head. “But it’s his friend, Soda, not mine or yours, it should be his call. Darry’s a grown man.”

Soda scoffed. “Darry’s never made good decisions when it came to Paul. It’s like he’s got a blind spot for him or something.”

Two-Bit steadied him with a look. “Alright, let’s think about it like this. How would you feel if it was Steve?”

“What’s that got to do with—”

“Come on, we both know his old man’s a piece of work. What if he did something that made Steve snap and he took it out on you.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure Darry thought the same thing about Paul.”

Soda glared. “You really trying to say Steve is like some Soc?”

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. “Will you quit being dense man? Listen to what I’m saying. If that happened you’d feel like you should have done something to stop it and help out your best friend. I know you got that same complex those brothers of yours got.”

Soda shrugged, “So? What’s your point?”

Two-Bit sighed. “All I’m saying is you know Darry. Hell, I know Darry. That guy’s like a world class champion at blaming himself for things he ain’t got no business blaming himself for. And yeah he’s dead wrong, but that won’t stop him from hating himself for the way things went down with Paul.”

“He shouldn’t.”

“Never said he should. Doubt Paul thinks he should either, but what do I know? All I’m saying is if your brother wants to see him and— I don’t know— clear the air, sock him good in the jaw, spit in his face, whatever, he deserves to at least have a say in it. And not have his kid brother hiding stuff from him. You know he wouldn’t like that.”

Soda sighed, anger deflating like a balloon. “I ain’t trying to hide anything, I just don’t want him to get hurt again.”

Two-Bit’s expression softened. “Well, maybe pat him down for weapons first, but call it a hunch, I don’t think the guy I saw at the hospital that day is going to come out swinging.”

Soda groaned. He knew, objectively, Two-Bit was right, that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Ain’t you supposed to be the funny one?” Soda muttered.

Two-Bit’s grin returned, a bit brighter than before. “What can I say? I’m a joker with a heart, it’s part of my charm.”

He grabbed a roll of crepe paper and tossed it towards Soda. They better get done fast, because Two-Bit’s little speech meant there was something else he had to do.

Soda drove past Paul’s house at least half a dozen times before he finally convinced himself to park the truck. He then sat there staring up at the house for another fifteen minutes before he was brave enough to get out and walk to the front door.

The house was huge, a mansion as far as Soda was concerned. Big opulate columns on the freshly painted front porch, a flower box beneath each window, a stone walkway to the door between the camellia bushes. It looked like the perfect home, like a dream life was being lived just beyond the door. Soda spent his whole childhood wondering how great his life would be if he lived in a house like Paul’s. But in that moment, it looked like a gilded cell.

Soda sighed and climbed out of the truck. He tried not to think too hard about what he was about to do, who he was about to see. Just put one foot in front of the other. He kept his head down and focused on the ground beneath him, watched as the asphalt of the road gave way to the concrete of the drive, then the stone of the walkway, then finally the painted wood of the front porch steps.

He took a deep breath. Then another. And when still he hadn’t found his courage, another. Then before he could stop himself, he knocked on the door sharp and quick, hardly sparing a glance up. He had to fight the urge to run and hide in the bushes like a bad game of ding dong ditch.

But then nothing happened. Soda waited. And waited. And waited some more. Just when he was debating whether he should ring the doorbell instead, the front door pulled open.

Paul stared at him like he wasn’t entirely positive the person in front of him was real. Eventually, he said, “What? Did he really die this time and you’re coming to get your revenge? Because you might want to rethink that plan, I doubt either of your brothers would want you in jail.”

The words were sharp, jagged on the edges and meant to cut deep. But Soda looked at Paul, really looked at him for the first time, and all he could see were all the ways he was about to fall apart. His bloodshot eyes were bruised purple, body worn and hollow. His hair, once perfectly quaffed, now unkempt and stringy with grease. It was almost painful to look at, the boy who was once the star of his high school with an easy smile and bright eyes, now a shell of a man with nothing left. Soda had to fight the urge to look away.

“We need to talk, Holden.”

Paul considered him for a moment. “You gonna hit me again?”

Soda scoffed. “Why would you say that?”

Paul gave him a look like he thought Soda’s head was full of rocks.“Because you do it every time you see me? Why would this be any different?”

He couldn’t really argue, the older boy had a point. So instead he said, “Can I just come inside? I won’t hit you I swear.”

Paul studied him long enough that Soda thought he might say no. Well, that was fine with him. He could say he tried, no harm no foul, and Darry would never have to know. But finally, the older boy sighed and took a step back, holding the door open wider.

He led him into the kitchen where they stood stiff and awkward, neither quite sure how to begin. Soda was never good with uncomfortable silences like this, he found his mouth often started running off without his brain catching up. Which was what happened when the words suddenly tumbled out of his mouth unbidden, “Ain’t you supposed to offer me a drink or something?”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Paul said, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

Soda shrugged, feeling stupid. “Seems like that kinda house.”

Paul gave him a bewildered look. “Well all I got is tap water, so if you're dying of thirst or something go ahead.”

They lapsed back into silence as Soda tried to figure out where to begin. He didn’t think he’d ever spoken to Paul before and had certainly never been alone with him, despite being his older brother’s best friend. Paul must have been growing annoyed because finally he sighed and said, “So did you come over just to stand in my kitchen or is there a point to all this?”

Soda folded his arms across his chest and said, “I’ll be honest Holden, I think you’re a real piece of shit.”

Paul blinked. “Well, thanks, man. Glad you drove all the way out to my house to tell me that.”

But Soda wasn’t finished. “You attacked my brother, you framed him for some petty crime so you could get revenge. Hell, even before that. You ditched him after our parents died when he needed you the most. And he needed you, Paul. He was drowning and you bailed on him. That’s not even mentioning the fact you shot him.”

Paul shifted uncomfortably. “Is there a point to all this?”

“But for whatever reason, my brother still feels bad about how things went down between the two of you.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “He shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know. Doesn’t change the fact he still does. Thinks he should have done something about your dad, helped you out after you found out about your mom.”

Paul shook his head, expression softening for the first time since Soda came in. “None of that’s his fault.”

“I know. That’s what you need to tell him.”

Paul blinked. “Tell him? And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Darry’s getting out of the hospital tomorrow. We’re having a surprise party to welcome him home, I think you should be there.”

Paul tilted his head. “So what is this exactly? You’re giving me your blessing to talk to your brother?”

Soda frowned. “Hey, you’re on thin ice already, Holden. You don’t get to be the smart ass in this conversation.”

Paul studied him for a moment, and Soda thought he might fight back, but he just turned away. “Fine, that all you came to say?”

Soda sighed. For as much as his mouth was moving on its own accord before, he had to force the next words out through clenched teeth. “We’re all writing him letters.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Letters?”

“Yes, letters.” Soda spat as if daring the other boy to laugh. “Or cards. Or notes. Something tangible. It was Pony’s idea. Everyone’s doing it, saying how much they appreciate Darry, that sort of thing.”

“What is this, a girls' sleepover or something?”

Soda’s gaze became sharp. “No, the only reason I’m telling you is because I thought it might make it easier.”

Paul choked out a laugh. “Easier, how the hell is a letter any easier?”

“I don’t know, I guess I figured it might help you figure out that apology you still haven’t given him.”

Paul didn’t say anything, just turned away.

“Look? As far as I’m concerned, come, don’t come, write a letter or don’t, I really don’t care. But I think, as much as I hate to admit it, it’d be good for Darry. Whether he wants to apologize, or try and fix things, or beat the hell out of you, or scream his head off, is up to him. But he deserves to have that moment if he wants it. And you owe it to him, Paul.”

Anger twisted Paul’s features, bitterness coloring his tone as he said, “Darry doesn’t need anything from me. He never has. Showing up to this little party of his tomorrow isn’t going to make a difference.”

Soda expected anger to flare up, but it was something closer to pity that filled his chest. “Do you care about him?”

“What do you—”

“My brother. Do you care about him?”

Paul looked down at the palm of his right hand. Soda could just make out a white scar that ran across it, Paul ran his thumb over it. “Yeah, I guess.”

Soda shrugged. “So then come. But if do, Holden, it’s for him, you hear me? For once in your life, get your head out of your ass and do something for someone you care about.”

Paul ran a hand across his face. He looked weary in a way that seemed to seep into his bones. “Anything else?” He asked, 

“Yeah, if you do decide to show up, bring chips, too.”

Soda didn’t think Darry’s discharge from the hospital would ever end.

It’d been hours of paperwork and talking to doctors, reminders of when he needed to be back, rehab he needed to do at home, the physical therapy he was set up start the next week, how to use his inhaler, when to use his inhaler, and about a million other things swimming around in Soda’s head that he had no idea how he was supposed to remember.

But finally, by some miracle, Dr. Thompson looked up and said, “That about does it for me boys, you two have any questions before we get you out of here?”

Darry smiled, “No, I think we’re good. Thanks for everything, Doc. Don’t think I’d be sitting here if it weren’t for you.”

The doctor smiled at him. “Thank me by staying out of trouble. No offense, but I don’t ever want to your face in this place again.”

Darry laughed, “Trust me, I ain’t planning another visit anytime soon.”

They wheeled Darry out of the hospital as was protocol, but when he got up and walked to his truck Soda couldn’t help but marvel at how much stronger his brother had become in the past few months. He still had a long way to go, but every movement didn’t seem to cause him pain, he stood a bit straighter, his breathing almost normal. Soda didn’t even have to help him climb into the truck.

A grin broke out across Soda’s face, and when Darry glanced over at him, he couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you so happy about?”

“Just glad to be getting you home is all.”

Darry rolled his eyes, “You’ll be sick of me before long.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s possible.”

The ride home was quiet, Darry staring out the window lost in thought. After a while Soda asked, “You got a thousand yard stare going, everything alright in that head of yours?”

Darry shrugged, eyes glued to the window. “Thinking about what Pony says about sunsets and stuff. I never really given them much thought before, busy doing too much else. But I don’t know, you get stuck staring at the same four walls all day, there’s something nice about seeing green in the trees.”

When he turned back towards Soda he gave an awkward laugh, as if he just realized what he’d said. “Sorry, I sound like I got my head in the clouds now. That’s the kind of stuff I always give Pony hell for.”

“Nah, I think you just sound like a guy happy to be alive, ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Two-Bit’s mom let everyone park at her house, so their own driveway was empty when Soda pulled up.

Darry was grinning ear to ear, a light in his eyes Soda couldn’t remember seeing him have in years. “You look like you’re on a first date or something. What’s got you grinning?”

Darry shook his head. “It’s stupid.”

“That ever stopped you before?”

Darry rolled his eyes, “It’s nothing really, just, she’s a good looking house, ain’t she?”

Soda looked up at their home, all the things that needed fixing. The shutters were broken, the paint was beginning to chip away, the porch sagged as if it just heaved a weary sigh. He knew the roof was starting to go soft in a few places, knew the bottom porch step was getting loose and would need replacing soon.

But he tried to look at it through Darry’s eyes, someone who’d been away from his home for months now. He saw their mom’s rose bushes that were somehow (miraculously) still alive, the porch swing their dad built for their mom for their tenth wedding anniversary, the piece of concrete along the foundation their parents had poured that had all three Curtis brothers' handprints preserved in it.

It was small, and quirky, and the hinges squeaked on the doors and cold air seeped through the cracks in the winter. But that house was the backdrop to every last one of Soda’s best childhood memories, and he couldn’t help but love it, despite all its flaws.

But he couldn’t say that, he had enough sappy gifts for Darry today, this might push him over the edge, so instead he just smiled and said, “I guess it ain’t too bad, huh? But we ain’t got time to stare at the house like love sick puppies or nothing, we’re keeping everyone waiting.”

Darry frowned. “Everyone. Who’s here?”

“Come on Darry, you’re Superman, ain’t ya supposed to know everything?”

“I don’t think that’s one of Superman’s powers,” Darry muttered, slowly pulling himself out of the truck. 

He followed behind Soda and continued, “You didn’t plan nothing, did ya?”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Exactly. Why would you? Nothing exciting about me coming home,” Darry said, only slightly out of breath by the time they reached the front door.

Soda rolled his eyes, hand on the doorknob. “Oh, sure. You’re coming home after months of being in the hospital for an injury the doctors didn’t even think you’d survive. Just your average Friday night.”

Darry gave him a look. “Soda I swear—”

But Soda didn’t let him finish, just opened the front door to a chorus of “Surprise!”, more balloons than the Curtis house had ever seen, and a giant WELCOME HOME DARRY banner painted by Pony.

Darry looked around, eyes wide. Soda could understand why, Soda didn’t even know they knew that many folks, Two-Bit had invited way more people than he’d realized. Steve. Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Miller, William and Mr. Moore, even some of the other gangs like Tim Shepard's crew. People who colored so many different parts of their lives, all standing around their tiny living room with party horns in hand and smiles on their faces, all to welcome home Darry.

“I don’t— what’s all this?”

“Had to welcome back the leader of the Curtis gang, yeah?” Tim Sheperd said, crooked grin on his face.

Darry’s eyes were wide as he looked around the room; Soda couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. Eventually, his brother said, “This is way too much.”

Soda just shrugged and tried to take some of the pressure off of him. “We all needed a reason to celebrate, we’re just using you as an excuse."

Darry finally pulled his gaze towards Soda and studied him. For a moment, he thought Darry was going to fight him about the whole thing. But then he grinned and threw his arm around Soda as he said, “Well, you better have some good food ‘cause I’m getting sick of jello.”

And with that, the party began in full force. Steve put some albums on, Two-Bit got the grill started, and everyone finally started to relax. 

A few people brought some gifts for Darry to open. Steve got him a golf club. When Darry gave him a confused look, Steve smirked and said, “It’s my old man’s, and he ain’t used it more than once. Figured you needed a new hobby without all the running with those smoker's lungs you got now.”

Soda finally gave him the Bob Dylan album he bought all those months ago. His other gift still sitting under the bed in Pony’s room, but he didn’t want to give it to him in front of all these people, he didn’t think it was the place.

Besides, it would have stolen Pony’s thunder, who gave Darry the binder full of letters with an unceremonious “Here ya go,” as if now was the moment he chose to be embarrassed by it.

Darry looked at it, confused, then started flipping through the different pages inside.

Finally, Pony said, “They’re letters and cards and notes from everyone. They could write whatever, favorite memories, get well soon, that sort of stuff. I didn’t read over them or nothing, so who knows what some of this lot wrote.”

Soda had no clue how many people Pony got to write something, but the binder was filled with different handwriting and ink, clearly the gift had taken time.

Darry looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why on earth would you guys do that?”

Pony shrugged. “I don’t know, you’ve just done a lot for us, I guess. Thought it’d be nice to show some appreciation for once.”

 Darry’s eyes looked suspiciously wet as he stood up and pulled Pony into a hug.

“That’s real nice of you, Pone. You boys make all of that easy.”

He ruffled Pony’s hair, and their youngest brother shoved him away, but there was a smile on his face the rest of the night.

The party ebbed and flowed, hamburgers were served, then chocolate cake not long after, and Soda couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe it wasn’t just Darry who needed this, maybe he had too.

It was a few hours later when Soda looked around and realized Darry was nowhere to be found. Panic flared up far quicker than it once would have. He was still a little gun shy after everything that had transpired over the past year. He forced himself to take a steadying breath, told Two-Bit and Steve he was going to grab a refill, and headed back inside to look for his brother.

But he couldn’t find him anywhere, not the kitchen, not the living room, not his bedroom, not even the front porch. He got so worried he went out front to see if he’d driven off somewhere, but the truck was still sitting in the same spot they’d parked it in. Soda couldn’t imagine he’d gone out for a walk, he was better, but stuff like that still exhausted him.

So where on earth could Darry be?

Just when he was about to go get Pony to help, he noticed light leaking out from beneath the door of the room he and Darry once shared. It was the one place Soda hadn’t checked. He hadn’t even been back in there since the day Darry had been shot.

Gently, he opened the door, the hinges creaked from disuse. He looked around and winced, the room was so much worse than he remembered it, albums shattered, trophies snapped in half. He didn’t know why he never cleaned it up, maybe he just didn’t want to face up to his own rage.

In the middle of it all stood Darry, holding a broken trophy in his hand. He turned when he heard the door open and stared at Soda, expression unreadable.

Soda took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, I know it’s a mess in here. I don’t know why I left it like this.”

Darry blinked at him, then shook his head. “If you wanted to redecorate that bad you could have just said so, no reason my trophies had to get caught in the crossfire.” But there was no bite to the words, in fact, Soda could see the smile threatening to break across his face.

Soda couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah well, I’ve had some moments. You’re lucky that’s your only causality, I snapped my dang record collection into pieces. Dad would have killed me.”

But his brother gave him a small smile and said, “You know? Considering everything, I think he’d understand. Probably just go out and get you another album when he had a little extra cash. He was always good about that sort of thing.” 

Darry put the trophy remains on the nightstand and walked over to their closet, clothes spilling out on the floor.

“Why’d you come in here?” Soda asked.

Darry shrugged, running his hands over the clothes. “I don’t know, I wasn’t planning on it. I was headed towards Mom and Dad’s room and I just sort of ended up in here instead.” He paused and gave Soda a wry smile, “didn’t expect it to look like a tornado swept through.”

He picked up his old letterman jacket and ran it through his fingers. Soda watched, he remembered how hard Darry had worked so he could buy it. It was how he started working with his dad at Mr. Cooper’s. Only fifteen, he’d been one of the only sophomores to get a letter that year, and Soda could remember thinking he was crazy doing all that extra work just for a dumb over priced jacket. Now he could understand why.

He wore that thing everywhere in high school like it was a coat of armor. Soda could remember seeing him walk down the hall with Paul and the rest of the team. Wearing his hair ungreased and that Boy of the Year smile of his, Even if his shoes were a little rattier than the rest, he could almost pass off as a Soc back then.

The thought made him remember the only person who hadn’t shown up, and suddenly, almost without realizing it, the words tumbled out of him.

“I’ve seen Paul a few times.” 

Darry blinked up at him, confusion pulling at his brow. “What? When?”

So Soda told him, about the day at the hospital, about going to Paul’s house. About how bad the other boy looked, about inviting him to the party.

As Soda told his story, Darry just shook his head, expression unreadable.

“I really thought he might come, Dar. I’m sorry.”

Darry smiled, “Nah, that’s alright, it ain’t your fault.”

“Yeah, well, I probably wasn’t the nicest,” Soda muttered.

Darry rolled his eyes, “Trust me, that’s never stopped Paul before.”

But there was something Soda had to know. It’d been eating away at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance to ask.“Aren’t you angry with him?”

Darry sighed, he carried the jacket over to the space between their beds and sat on the floor. Soda went and did the same. A place they’d slotted into thousands of times over the years, it felt familiar, if a bit smaller than he remembered.

“For some stuff I was, maybe I still am. I don’t really know. Everything he did last year, jumping me, framing me, the way he went off on me after Mom and Dad died, I was angry about it for a long time. But I’m just sort of tired of being angry now. I think if anything it just makes me sad that he felt like I wouldn’t have helped him out.” He shook his head and looked back down at the letterman jacket. “It’s dumb, I know that, but I can’t help thinking that if I’d done more before…”

But Soda wouldn’t let him finish. “It’s not your fault he did that to you, Darry. No matter how angry he was, he shouldn’t have drug you into that.”

Darry gave him a sad smile. “I know that. Honest. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking it. I can understand him in a weird way. Its feeling like you're backed into a corner with no way out. That sort of desperation. I’ve had that before. Sure it’s never made me snap, but then no one’s ever killed someone I care about. But if someone had done that to you or Pony, who knows? Maybe I would have done the same thing. I can’t say.”

Darry might not know, but Soda couldn’t imagine a world where Darry would cause the kind of warpath of destruction Paul had created, no matter how broken he was. Soda didn’t say that though, because he noticed the one thing Darry didn’t mention.

“What about getting shot?”

Darry shook his head. “I don’t even know if he’s the one that pulled the trigger, could have just as easily been his dad. But that doesn’t matter, I wasn’t who Paul was gunning for anyway. He wouldn’t have done that on his own, you can chalk that one up to my own bad luck” Darry gave him a tight smile, and added, “Something I seem to be magnet for lately.”

His tone was just a little bitter around the edges, reminiscent of his breakdown in the hospital when he’d lost all hope. Suddenly, Soda thought of the file that was lying underneath his bed. He couldn’t think of a better time to give it to Darry than now.

“Hey, wait right here, I’ll be right back.”

Darry frowned at him, “Aren’t we being rude hanging out back here? I can’t say I’ve thrown many parties but I don’t think the hosts are supposed to hide in their bedroom.”

Soda waved him off, “They’ll be fine. Besides, this won’t take long. Just hang on a sec.”

Soda ran down the hall and grabbed the file from under his bed and was back in record time.

Darry looked up, saw the file in his hand and gave him a curious look. “Whatcha got?”

Soda looked down, then back up at Darry, then down again. Suddenly nervous.

Because what if he hated it? What if it made him angry or offended him in some way? Soda felt like he was bearing some piece of his soul by giving him this, the sincerity of the gift almost unbearable.

“Soda?” Darry asked, worry in his tone.

Soda shook his head. This was Darry, what was the worst that could happen? He held the file out before he could overthink it and said, “Here, this is for you.”

Darry furrowed his brow. “You guys gave me plenty already, I don’t need anything else.”

“This is a little different. Just read it, you’ll see.”

After a moment of hesitation, Darry took the file. But before he could open it, another thought occurred to Soda, and he blurted out, “You can’t get mad until I explain everything, alright?”

Darry let out a nervous laugh. “That’s not reassuring.”

“Just promise me, please?”

Darry studied him for a moment and seemed to realize how important this was to Soda, because when he nodded, there was something earnest in his expression.

“Of course, Pepsi.”

Darry opened the file up only to look more confused than before. “What is this, check stubs?”

Soda took a deep breath, this was the part he was most worried about. He knew his brother. Knew his pride. Knew this wasn’t going to be an easy pill for him to swallow. “Okay, while you were in the hospital, there might have been some charity drives going on around town.”

Darry looked up, horror written across his features. “Please tell me you mean for the local soup kitchen or something.”

Soda grimaced, “Not exactly.”

Darry leaned back against the bed and groaned, “Soda!”

“Hey, you promised no getting mad until I explained everything.”

“Yeah, that was before I realized I was the town charity project.”

“Just hear me out.” 

Darry waved him off, still not sitting up. “Fine, fine, keep going.”

“Look I didn’t know, Dar. I swear. People were donating all this money, I didn’t find out until months later, and when I finally did I damn well near blew a gasket. I even went to Mr. Cooper to give him his money back.”

Darry’s head whipped back up, “Mr. Cooper gave us money? Soda I swear—”

“I promise I tried to give it back! Told him we weren’t a charity case. Got real mad at him.”

“Okay, but that’s about a million times worse.”

“But it didn’t matter because he wouldn’t take it, and he said something that got me thinking.”

“That someone needed to shoot me a second time to put me out of my misery?” Darry muttered.

Soda rolled his eyes. “Will you just listen? He said you deserved a chance more than anyone he knew. And I just kept thinking back to that file you gave me when you went to jail. I couldn’t have made it back then without that, Dar. It was the only thing that kept me going, and it set me on a path that I love. It gave me a future. Something to work towards. And I realized then what Mr. Cooper was saying, and he was right. You should have all the things you want in life, too, Darry.”

Darry gave him a sad smile. “But that’s not how the world works, Pepsi, as much as you may want it to, and taking the easy way with stuff like this always comes at a cost.”

Soda let out a shocked laugh. “You think this money is the easy way? After you got jumped and framed for a robbery and went on trial and got shot? Nearly died? I don’t know what the easy way is but we sure as hell didn’t take it this year.”

Darry shook his head. “But this ain’t right Soda. I can’t take a handout like this.”

Soda nodded, because he got it, he’d been in the same place as Darry a few months ago. “See, that’s what I thought, too. But it’s not a handout, Darry. You’ve done so much for so many people. You gave up everything to keep me and Pony together, then you fought over and over again to make sure we had a chance. You let Steve crash here when his old man runs him off. Keep Two-Bit out of trouble. Kept Johnny off the streets. Hell, even Dally knew he had a place here, you’re the only one who could ever get him to back down.

Darry scoffed. “Dallas Winston thought I was a wannabe Soc.”

Soda shook his head. “Nah, he got it more than you think, Dar. He could just be like that sometimes. But that doesn’t even matter. What I’m trying to say is you made sure all of us had a chance to make it. And you couldn’t protect us from everything. But you tried, Dar. And you deserve that chance too, even if it’s not how we expected it to happen.”

Darry didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the paper in front of him.

Quietly, Soda said, “Can’t we let something good come out of all of this?”

Darry looked up, something soft in his expression. That same glimmer of hope Soda had seen all those years ago when Darry was asking his parents if he could have a birthday party.

“Alright then. Let’s pretend we do keep this money. You got some big plan or something?”

Soda smiled, “I’m so glad you asked.”

He reached over and flipped the page for Darry, a list of colleges staring up at them.

“What on earth?”

“I met with Mrs. Miller. And she helped me compile a list of all the colleges you’d have a good chance of getting into, the financial aid offered, and places that had part-time jobs for students.”

Darry looked at the list, eyes wide. “Soda—”

“The places that have student housing real close by are listed first, that way you won’t get so winded going to and from class. And we found rehab centers near all of them, that way you could transfer doctors easily.”

Darry shook his head. “Soda—”

“And I tried to find the best programs for prelaw, but did you know there’s technically no such thing? You probably did since you’re the one who wants to be a lawyer. So I listed different majors that they recommend for people going into law. English is one of them! Did you know that? You could be a writer like Pony, wouldn’t that be funny?”

“Soda—”

“There’s some others you could do, too. Like business and history and stuff. Mrs. Miller asked, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what you were studying when you went to college before. Guess I wasn’t paying too much attention back then—”

Darry reached across and put his hands on Soda’s shoulders, cutting him off from rambling. 

“You gotta let me speak, too, kid.”

Soda took his first breath for perhaps the entire conversation. “Sorry, it’s just, I want all this for you, Darry. You deserve it.”

Darry looked back down at the list and frowned. Panic welled in Soda’s chest.

“Do you not like it?”

“No, nothing like that, Pepsi honest. It’s just…”

“What?”

Darry glanced back up and if Soda didn’t know any better, he’d say Darry was nervous. “They’re all so far away.”

Soda blinked, whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I appreciate you putting this together, Pepsi, I swear. But these schools, they’re all hours away, some of them are out of state. Even if I did go, I wouldn’t want to go that far.”

“Well I just assumed, I mean, before you were going to the University of Oklahoma,” Soda stuttered out. “I thought going off to college was your dream.”

Darry shrugged. “My life was different then. Now? It just ain’t worth all that if I have to move that far away from you boys. I’ll just work in the offices at Mr. Cooper’s or something.”

But Soda shook his head. Once the shock of Darry’s words faded he remembered what was the next page in the file. “Just keep flipping, there’s a whole ‘nother page of schools close by. They’re not as prestigious or nothing, but they’re still good four year colleges. I thought it might be a good compromise if you didn't want to spend all that money, but if you want to stay in town, then that works too. Besides, I already talked to Mr. Moore and he said he’d be happy to have you back, would work around your school load and everything.”

Darry flipped the page and stared, mouth hanging open in shock. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I can’t believe you did all this, Pepsi. It must have taken you days to figure it out.”

Soda smiled. “So you ain’t mad?”

Darry laughed, it sounded a little shaky. “About what? You working so hard to figure all this out for me? Let me live my dream? What’s there to be mad about? This is about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

Darry flipped the page over, and at the end of the file was the card their parents had written for his 20th birthday. The card filled with the money they’d spent years slaving away and saving for his college. The money he’d had to use for his bail.

Gingerly, Darry opened it. He ran his hands along their parent’s handwriting.

“Soda—”

“They wanted this for you Darry. They would have been real proud of you for keeping our family going and keeping me and Pony together. But they never would have wanted you to give up on yourself. They left that money for you so you can build your life. And I want you to.”

Soda pulled his own letter out of his back pocket, the one Darry had left him when he went to jail. The creases were worn from folding and refolding, the edges frayed, the paper dingy. But the words written were still clear as day. His brother’s handwriting that had been a lifeline for him the past few months. 

“You said to me ‘I don’t want you to have to hate the world and always ask what if.’ And I don’t want that for you either, Dar. You’re too good to be stuck here, and if there can be any good that comes from this past year, then why not let it be this?”

But even still Darry shook his head. “I don’t know Soda, it’s all so much.”

Soda nodded. “Don’t say no yet, promise me that. Just think about it, yeah?”

Darry finally pulled his gaze up to look at Soda, expression soft, and then he did something Soda never would have expected, not from his stoic big brother.

He reached forward and pulled Soda into a hug. 

Soda melted into it, and he heard Darry say, “How’d you get to be so smart, Pepsi?

There were about a dozen ways Soda could answer that. He could laugh it off, or tell a joke, or ignore it and just hug Darry back.

But Soda thought Pony said it best, and his little brother was always good with words. Especially when they counted.

“Guess I get it from my big brother.”

Chapter Text

It was an early morning in May when Paul knocked on the Curtis’s front door.

The last time he stood on their porch was five years ago. He’d been in that very same spot, with the same letter in his back pocket he had now. His hands shook as he tried to convince himself to knock on the door.

But back then, instead of knocking, he’d stopped right there, and even though he knew better, he looked through the small window beside the door. He remembered, as if it’d only happened yesterday, watching Soda pat Darry on the back and gesture for him to sit down in their ratty recliner. He saw Pony say something to his brothers, gently elbowing Darry in the ribs, the gesture an obvious one of affection. He watched the way a smile blossomed across Darry’s face, followed by a laugh as he relented to their request. There was a simple joy in his expression Paul wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on his friend.

And in that moment it hit him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t knock on that door. He couldn’t risk taking that smile away from Darry. Not now, not after everything he’d done to him. Didn’t he, at the very least, owe his friend peace?

(No, no longer friend, he reminded himself. Paul didn’t deserve that now.)

So Paul did the thing he’d spent his whole life doing. 

He walked away.

He pled guilty to the robbery of The Brewclub when the trial came around, spent a couple of months in prison, then a few more on parole. It all felt easy. Too easy. Like he hadn’t paid his debt to society. No, that wasn’t quite right. He didn’t really think he owed society anything, not after all the ways it’d wronged him. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest he couldn’t escape. Like he still had sins to atone for.

(Because he knew, deep down, it wasn’t society he was still in debt to, but something else. Someone else.)

So, with nothing else to do and no one keeping him in Tulsa, Paul drifted.

Like a ship with no anchor, he floated wherever the current took him. Away from Tulsa. Then back again. Then away. Then back. He didn’t know why he kept returning to the place that had ruined him, that had taken everything away from him, where people looked at him with scorn when he walked into the supermarket, the place where the ghost of all the ways he’d been wronged and wronged others haunted him. He wanted to escape it, he needed to escape it if there was any chance of him surviving.

But no matter how far he went, no matter how many times he tried to leave, he couldn’t help but be drawn back. And he tried, Lord knows he tried, to stay away. But there was something here, something he couldn’t explain, something he couldn’t seem to let go of.

(He knew what it was, even if he refused to admit it to himself.)

So he found himself back here again. Five years later. Just as lost now as he’d ever been. Unsure of what else to do, and desperate for some clarity, he’d walked through Rose Hill Cemetery to see his mother’s grave a few days after arriving back in town. He’d hoped it would soothe something deep within him that remained unsettled even after all that time, but then he made a wrong turn and ended up standing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis’s headstones, fresh peonies in the vase beside Mrs. Curtis’s grave, and couldn’t begin to understand the tears that stung his eyes.

(He could understand, if he thought about it, he knew he could. But he didn’t think he was brave enough.)

That night, when he lay in his bed at the East Side Motel 6, sheets stained, the smell of sweat and alcohol hanging heavy in the air, empty bottles of whisky littering the floor, he wondered why he couldn’t quit this place. Why he kept coming back when all it did was send him spiraling back into bad habits. 

And later, when he was out of whisky and needed something more, he went to his suitcase to dig around for some extra cash he knew wasn’t there. He reached into the side pocket and felt around. His hand brushed against something. A paper of some kind. Thick like crumpled bills. Hope swelled in his chest, but when he pulled it out, it wasn’t money he found, but instead, the letter he’d written to Darry all those years ago, the one that said all the things he was sorry for, all the things he’d never been brave enough to say. He ran his fingers over the dingy envelope and for the first time since Darry’s trial. He broke down.

Because he knew why he was there, he knew what he had to do. Otherwise, he’d never be able to escape.

So he took a shower the next day, put on his nice dress shirt, the one that was dingy and old and no longer fit quite right but got the job done, and ended up on the front porch of the Curtis household, letter in his back pocket, knocking on the door, and fighting the urge to throw up.

When the door finally pulled open, it wasn’t Darry, like he’d prepared for, but somehow worse.

It was Sodapop Curtis who scowled at him.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Paul had to fight the urge to take a step back, the kid could pack a mean punch, as he’d been reminded of over and over again.

Although, not so much of a kid now. He had to be what? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Paul could see all the ways age had changed him, and most for the better. Face lean, shoulders broad, not quite as big as Darry, and a softness there his brother never possessed. But his eyes were harder than Paul remembered. He stood with a confidence that some people got with age. Paul didn’t have that, all age had brought him was lines on his face and a questionable state of his liver.

“Is he here?” Paul asked, because there was no reason to be coy. They both knew what Paul was doing.

Soda scoffed. “Why would he be?”

There was something in his look, something Paul couldn’t name, that sent off warning bells in his head. Because the way Soda was staring at him Paul knew he was missing something important, something obvious. He wracked his brain, and then suddenly it hit him.

“He’s not— he didn’t die or something, did he?”

Soda choked out a surprised laugh, and Paul’s fears evaporated in an instant. “Dead? Glory, Paul, you jump to the worst case scenario, don’t you?”

Paul frowned, he never did like being made the fool of. “Fine, then where is he? Cause if he’s not here I can come back.”

Soda’s laughter fell away, but instead of answering Paul, he studied him for a long time, searching for something. They stood there in silence as Paul fought the urge to flinch away.

After a minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” He bit out.

Soda tilted his head. “Do you seriously not know?”

“Know what?”

Something in his expression must have convinced him because Soda’s mouth fell open in surprise. “It’s just, I figured that’s why you came today.”

But Paul was getting tired of being in the dark, anger began to build in his chest. He wanted to say to hell with this, walk away, and forget the whole thing. But as he went to take a step back, he felt the letter crinkle in his back pocket. Suddenly, he remembered who he was doing this for. 

So instead, he said through clenched teeth, “What on earth are you talking about?”

But before Soda could answer, another voice pipped in, “Soda, who’s at the door? Tell ‘em to scram, we’re running late!”

Paul’s heart stuttered because it sounded so much like Darry, for half a second he thought was. But no, it wasn’t quite the same, the lilt of the words different, the cadence unfamiliar.

When Pony came into view, Paul had to do a double take. If Soda looked different, the youngest Curtis had completely transformed. Tall, at least as tall as Darry, taller than Paul for sure. Face wider and a strong set to his jaw. Still slim, but different than before. No longer lanky limbs and sharp elbows, but instead strong and lean, a man where before he’d been a boy. He looked like Darry had when they were that age. Paul had to force himself to look away.

When Pony saw him on the other hand, his expression immediately soured.

“The hell is he doing here?”

Soda shrugged. “He just showed up.”

“Did you punch him?”

“No.”

“Can I punch him?”

Soda laughed. “No, and get this, he doesn’t know.”

That caught Pony’s attention. “He doesn’t know? How could he not?”

Soda shrugged. “I don’t know, but he doesn’t.”

Paul was growing angrier as the conversation carried on. “He may not know, but he can hear you two.”

Pony blinked at him for a moment, then turned to Soda. “You planning on taking him?”

Soda shrugged. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Maybe I should get some say in this,” Paul muttered.

Pony started chewing on his nails, lost in thought and ignoring Paul completely. After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, I think it might be good. Besides, if Darry doesn’t like it, well, there will be about a dozen people ready to take Paul around back and show him how the rest of us feel.”

Something cold ran through Paul. He didn’t remember the youngest Curtis having such a mean streak. There was a time when a threat from Ponyboy Curtis would have sent most Socs into a fit of laughter. But now? Hell, he could probably give Darry a run for his money.

Paul was starting to feel like he was in a bit over his head, so he turned away and said,“Maybe I should just come back.”

But Soda was already stepping out the front door and pushing Paul along with him, “Nope, too late to back out now, Holden. Come on, we’ll take Pony’s car, you can ride in the back.”

That was the first time Paul noticed Darry’s truck wasn’t there, instead a green Chevelle and a blue Apache. Did the Curtises each have a vehicle now? Paul couldn’t understand the thought. The car he had was the one his dad bought him for his sixteenth birthday, a beat-up clunker now. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could afford his motel room for the rest of the week, much less buy a car. He couldn’t imagine a world where the Curtises could afford to either.

They got settled in the car and started their drive. Soda and Pony spoke quietly in the front seat, and Paul let his mind wander. He did that now more than he used to. Sometimes the thoughts were good, but usually, his mind wandered places he didn’t want to go. Like the last time he saw his father at his trial for the murder of his wife. When the man yelled a slew of curse words at him when he saw Paul in the gallery, the way his face turned red as he lunged at his son, pulling so hard against the cop holding him back the man nearly lost his grip on the former police chief.

But Paul’s mind didn’t go there today, it went to Darry, in that same courtroom, his blood spilling across the floor, covering everything. Sometimes, it felt like the blood had been poured into him, like it was inescapable, like it was painted on the backs of his eyelids. Because every time he closed his eyes he saw it, every time he blinked he saw his best friend’s body lying limp on the courthouse floor.

His hand flexed. He wanted a drink. He needed a drink. He should have brought something with him to take the edge off. But he didn’t know his conversation with Darry would turn into a field trip with the Curtis brothers. Besides, what little money he had left he needed to pay for his room at the motel.

He blinked again. Heard Darry’s shuttering breath. Saw his eyes slip closed.

Maybe he’d go to the liquor store after this.

“We’re here.”

Paul blinked, he hadn’t been paying a lick of attention, he had no idea where here was. They got out of the car and stood in a parking lot, men in nice suits and women in dresses all walking… somewhere. Paul looked down at his ratty dress shirt, his stained shoes; he was wildly underdressed for whatever this was.

“Can’t believe you boys are late, we figured we’d beat you here!” Someone yelled. Paul turned to find the other Greaser Two-Bit walking towards them, hand in hand with a girl. She looked familiar for some reason, dark hair covering her features, but then she turned her head and it hit Paul—

“Marcia?” He asked, voice as shocked as he felt.

The girl blinked. “Paul? What the hell? I haven’t seen you in ages, I thought you skipped town.” 

She pulled him into a hug. Paul couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that. He froze, so shocked was he by the touch. He managed to stutter out, “Yeah, I did, for a while. Back now I guess.” 

Standing in front of her, a girl he used to run in the same circles with, a Soc through and through, he felt put on display, embarrassed of his shaggy appearance. He folded his arms across his chest as if that would hide anything.

Two-Bit, however, wasn’t quite as thrilled to see him as Marcia, scowl evident on his features. “And you just happened to show up today?”

Before Paul could defend himself (because what the hell was today?), Soda cut in, “No, get this. He doesn’t know.”

Two-Bit and Marcia stared at him, both wide-eyed. “You’re kidding.”

“Not a clue.”

Two-Bit frowned. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

But Soda shrugged and said, “We thought so too, but I honestly think he doesn’t know.”

Two-Bit studied him for a moment, and Paul thought he’d tell him to beat it, but the man just shook his head and whistled. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re in for one hell of a treat then, Holden.”

“So none of you guys are going to tell me what we’re doing?” Paul tried to keep his voice even, but judging by their expressions, he hadn’t quite hit the mark.

A bright grin split across Two-Bit’s face. “Nah, it’s way too fun making a Soc squirm. Come on, Ol’ Stevie boy is saving some seats for us, and I know he’s gonna want to see this for himself.”

They followed the rest of the crowd up into some football bleachers. For a moment, Paul thought they were about to see a game, but that wasn’t right, it wasn’t the season for it, and everyone was dressed too nice. Besides, there were chairs sitting out on the field, so what could it be?

They headed towards a man in his dress blues, and it wasn’t until they were practically on top of him that Paul leaned over and asked Marcia, “Is that Steve Randle?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he just got back from Vietnam a few months ago, he got hurt pretty bad and he’s been… well, Darry’s been trying to help him out.”

When Steve turned towards them, he caught Paul’s gaze, and if Marcia hadn’t said he was hurt, Paul would never have known, from here he looked just fine. But when he turned his head toward Soda, Paul could see the way he winced in pain at the movement.

“Your brother know he’s here?”

Soda shook his head. “Nah, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

Steve pulled his gaze back towards Paul. There was something haunted in it, something that made Paul’s blood run cold. He wanted to turn away but found he couldn’t. He didn’t know why, but he felt like Steve understood, maybe in a way no one else ever would. And if the man in front of him told him to turn around and walk away, Paul wouldn’t even question it.

But he didn’t, instead he just shrugged and looked back towards the field, saying, “Sit down. They’re about to start.”

“Start what?” Paul asked, exasperated.

But no one got the chance to answer, because suddenly music was blaring over the speakers. Something familiar, something Paul knew he had heard before. But where?

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned towards the football field. There in front of the stadium, men and women walked across the field, adorned in black robes, square caps on their heads, and green and white tassels bobbing with each step.

“Is this—”

“Darry’s graduation? Yep.”

Paul all but collapsed onto the seat behind him, unable to pull his eyes away.

He felt numbness coursing through him. His mouth began to move completely unbidden. “What’d he— did he finish his business degree?”

Pony glanced at him. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what he declared before, the first time we went to school.”

Pony’s eyes widened, “Oh, no. He did English, actually. He’s going to law school in the fall. He crushed his LSAT a few months ago.”

“Hey, hush, Darry’s walking out!”

And there he was, Paul could spot him anywhere. Taller than most of the other students there, he looked like he’d been frozen in time. Paul couldn’t believe it, how did he still look so much like the twenty-two year old who sat on trial for Paul’s sins? How did he look like the eighteen year old who he dreamed of better things with?

“He’s done real good, Paul,” Soda said.

Paul jumped about a foot in the air, he hadn’t realized Soda had moved to sit next to him he was so lost in thought. He glanced over at the Greaser, but Soda kept his eyes glued towards his brother.

“He managed to keep working the whole way through college, didn’t want to spend all the money people donated to him when he was in the hospital.”

Paul remembered those donation drives. He’d cleaned out all the money his dad had stashed away in his sock drawer and taken it straight to the donation box at the school.

“He kept working at Mr. Moore’s you know, and he’s done real good there. After law school, Mr. Moore said he could come back and work full time if he wants. But he told me that a guy like Darry would be able to get a job just about anywhere.”

Paul nodded because of course he could. Darry was always meant for more than the East Side of Tulsa. Even Paul knew that.

“But you know what else? It wasn’t just work. With all the stuff he was doing he still managed to keep up with his schoolwork. He’s graduating top of his class. Those professors love him at the college, tried to talk him into going to get his masters so he could teach instead.”

Soda turned towards Paul then, something dangerous in his gaze. Paul stared back, he knew if he looked away, he’d lose whatever sliver of respect Soda still had for him. If he had any at all.

When Soda finally spoke, his voice was measured. “And he’s worked hard, real hard, to get past everything that happened to him. That gunshot damn near wrecked him. Tore him apart from the inside, and he had to work twice as hard just to get to a place where he could walk across that field by himself. You know how hard that was for him? A guy who could run up and down that field like it was nothing before?”

Paul didn’t know, but he could imagine. Darry loved football. Loved sports. Without them, he wasn’t sure who Darry was. Darry probably didn’t know either.

“And that’s not even mentioning what all that shit did to his head. I mean, nightmares, episodes. He’d wake up and think he was back in the hospital bleeding out, or on trial, or that you were out back in The Brewclub beating the shit out of him. He can’t even drink because of you, you know.”

That caught Paul off guard. “What?”

Soda nodded, “When you jumped him? You boys reeked of alcohol apparently. Smell of it takes him right back. He hid it pretty well for a while, and then—” Soda paused, shaking his head “Doesn’t matter actually, but he hasn’t had a drink since then. That’s because of you.”

Paul couldn’t help but think of all the empty whisky bottles in his motel room right now. He was probably going to spend whatever was left in his pocket on another bottle when he left here. It was all too much. He pulled his gaze away from Soda and down towards his hands. He knew it made him look weak, but he no longer cared. He’d rather that than allow Soda to see his shame.

“Why are you telling me all this?” He finally managed to say. “I can’t imagine Darry would want you airing out his dirty laundry.”

Soda sighed. “He wouldn’t, he’d kill me if he knew I was saying this to you, but it needs to be said, Holden. He may look fine out there walking across that field, he may say all the right things and smile at all the right moments. But you did things to him he still hasn’t recovered from, may never recover from. And I want you to think, long and hard, about what you’re doing here today. Because if you’re just here to screw him over again, then when this ceremony is over, I want you to walk out of these bleachers, straight out to the parking lot, hitch a ride back to whatever hell hole you came from and skip town. I don’t care where you go or what you do, just so long as you never come near my family again.”

Paul nodded and chanced a glance back towards Soda. He was staring at the field now, eyes searching for something. “And if I don’t want to just screw with your brother?”

Soda pulled his gaze back towards Paul, he studied him for a moment as if weighing his words. “Then you come down to the field with us, and you do whatever the hell Darry tells you to do. Leave, grovel, beg, whatever, you do it, no questions asked, you got me?”

Paul nodded. Like he had any intention of doing anything else. “Yeah. I got you.”

Soda looked like he was going to say more, but then a familiar name was called over the speaker. “Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Junior.”

And the guys around him erupted into chaos. Screaming their heads off. Other people in the stands gave them dirty looks, and Paul himself wished desperately to distance himself from the rowdy boys, but then he saw the grin split across Darry’s face. The way he laughed after he got his diploma, saw him wave up at the boys as he was walking back to his place. And for the first time, Paul got it, got why he was able to make it through the hell life had given him, got how he managed to keep going all these years, got why he was willing to sacrifice everything for these people.

There was an ache in Paul’s chest he couldn’t explain, but he didn’t want to think about that too much.

The rest of the ceremony was uneventful, as graduation ceremonies often are. People gave speeches, other students grabbed diplomas, the students moved their tassels and threw their caps in the air. 

And then suddenly, it was over, and they were making their way down towards the field. And Paul had the sudden urge to throw up.

By the time they got there, other people were already crowding around Darry, classmates, his old boss Mr. Cooper, Mr. Moore, William (who Paul desperately wanted to avoid), that social worker lady Paul had seen hang around sometimes, and about a million other people who had come into Darry’s life since Paul had last seen him. When Soda and Pony ran up to give Darry a hug, Paul saw Darry wince, a blink and you miss it motion, but when he pulled away from them any hint of pain had been erased from his features.

For some reason, that moment hit him harder than the rest. What was he doing? What right did he have to be here? To ruin this day? Darry had moved on, had accomplished so much since the last time Paul had been around. What did Paul have? A drinking problem? Certainly not a career. He hadn’t held down a steady job in years. He was about to spend what little money he had left at the liquor store instead of his motel room. He had nowhere to go. No future to work towards. Why the hell did he think he had the right to drag Darry back down after everything he’d done to him?

So before Darry noticed him, he turned away, hoping to make his escape as quick and painless as possible. Maybe he could go win some money off a game of pool at Buck's. But he never managed to make it that far.

“Paul?”

He froze. He hadn’t heard that voice since the day of the trial when his name was called out with the same hint of confusion.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

Paul turned, and there he was. Darrel Curtis. Up close, Paul could see all the ways he’d changed. He was leaner than he once was, scars littering his face that Paul knew were thanks to him, and he no longer had that imposing brute strength he had back when he roofed all day.

But his smile was still the same, and despite everything, his eyes didn’t look harden the way Paul knew his own had become.

Paul didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Darry gave him a confused look and took a step toward him.

“What, you made the trip just to ignore me?” But there was no heat to the words. Paul wished there was, in a way, it might make things easier.

Paul shook his head, still searching for what to say, then he remembered, he didn’t have too.

He reached a shaking hand into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope, he held it out to Darry, who just stared at it.

“What’s that?”

Paul swallowed and finally managed to find his voice. “I was supposed to give it to you. Back at your welcome home party. I didn’t— well, it’s here now.”

He shrugged. Not wanting to look at Darry any longer, yet unable to turn away.

Darry took the envelope and stared at it for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder and looked towards Soda, Paul could no longer see Darry’s expression, but Soda nodded. Something passed between the two of them Paul would never understand. Once, that would have made him angry, but now, he was glad Darry still had that. Paul wished he had that.

When he turned back, he gave Paul a shrug and said, “We’re all going out to eat, sort of a celebration thing I guess, you wanna tag along?”

Paul blinked, so caught off guard by the simple question, and asked, “Where are you going?” before his head could catch up with his mouth. He immediately felt like an idiot. Like the answer really mattered. He’d say yes to anything.

Or maybe not, because then Darry said, expression deadpan, “The Brewclub.”

Paul swore he was going to have a heart attack right then and there on the football field, but then he saw the smile spreading across Darry’s face, heard the laughter from his friends, and realized he was joking.

“Oh har-dee-har. Make fun at my expense,” Paul said, the words slipping out before he could think better of them. Because for a second he felt like he was transported back, to before all of this, all of the ways he’d wronged his friend, all of the ways he’d become twisted by life.

Darry shook his head, “Sorry, we’ll probably go to Dingos, nothing fancy, just don’t wanna cook nothing. You coming or what?”

The way Darry smiled at him, so quick and easy, like they were kids again, made something ache deep in Paul’s chest. He wanted to say yes, desperately so. He wanted to drop everything and allow himself to be pulled back into Darry’s orbit, where people gave a damn about you, where people fought to keep you floating. Where a boy would sacrifice everything to keep his brothers together and safe. Where those brothers would fight tooth and nail so a boy could get his dreams back, could still become all the things they knew he could be.

But Soda’s words from before stuck in his head. He may look fine out there walking across that field, he may say all the right things and smile at all the right moments. But you did things to him he still hasn’t recovered from, may never recover from. And Paul couldn’t do it. Not until he knew. 

So despite the yes forming on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed it back, and forced out instead, “But I just— I don’t understand, why?”

The word was loaded with all the things Paul couldn’t say but he knew Darry would understand. Why would you forgive me? Why would you let me back in your life? Why won’t you just give up on me? Why won’t you treat me the way everyone else knows I deserve? Why don’t you hate me, when all I’ve done for years is screw you over and make your life hell?

Darry’s smile fell, and whatever mask he’d been hiding behind was gone. Paul could see the moment it shifted. His eyes glazed over with the pain he’d been hiding from the rest, he seemed more worn down, fine lines creeping across his skin from years of too much work and too much stress for a man so young. And there was a weariness in the way he held himself as if the act of simply being there left him exhausted.

But when he took another step towards Paul, there wasn’t a hint of hatred in his eyes, just curiosity. Like he was searching for something in Paul, and maybe he was. He hated to know what he’d find if he looked hard enough, Paul didn’t think there was anything good left in him.

When Darry finally spoke, the words were quiet, meant only for Paul. “I made a promise once, remember?” He held out his hand as if for a handshake, but Paul knew better. He could see the white scar that ran across his friend's hand, knew the one on his own hand looked the same. He could feel it burning, even all the years later, the same way it burned the night he made the cut with Darry’s knife.

Paul pulled his gaze up toward Darry, who smiled. Still no mask there, still just Darry. And yet, still a spark in his eye Paul had no clue how life hadn’t snuffed out. “You and me, yeah?”

Paul couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his own face. He knew all wasn’t forgiven, he knew things could never go back to what they once were. But maybe he didn’t want that anyway. Maybe whatever happened, however they moved forward, didn’t have to be worse. Maybe for once in his life, things could be better.

So he reached out and grabbed Darry’s hand, the same way he had all those years ago in the abandoned lot, under the soft haze of the street light, when the air felt crisp and the world around them seemed to shift. When it felt like together they could conquer anything.

“You and me.”