Chapter Text
As I stepped into my house, I only had two things on my mind; Paul Newman and getting some sleep.
I gently opened the door to our house, not wanting to irritate Darry in case he was sleeping. He had gotten a lot more irritable in the past few weeks and I really didn't know why because nobody would tell me. I'd ask Soda if anything'd happened and he'd just give me big sad eyes and tell me he didn't know. He was lying, that was obvious, but the haunted look in his eyes made it clear that if I pressed any further, he would break into a million different pieces and who would want that? The others were getting on my case a lot as well and that was getting old pretty quick because it felt like any corner I turned, they'd be there, waiting. I didn't like it. Not one bit. I've heard stories about those overdramatic teenagers who complained that their parents were constantly hovering over them when all they were doing is trying to look out for the kid.
This was different. I could be doing anything-literally anything, and then I'd get the feeling that I was being' watched. So, then I'd look around, and almost immediately see the sharp eyes of anyone in our gang. It was real' annoying. Just yesterday, I tripped over my shoelaces and Dally (out of all people!) came out of wherever hellhole he crawled out of and chewed me out for ten minutes straight over the importance of tying shoes. The ironic thing was that behind him, Two-Bit was tripping over his own two feet high on alcohol and glory knows what else. His shoes weren't even on! But of course, untied shoelaces are more important than a boozehound waddling around like a shot rabbit.
Anyways, I slowly closed the door behind me, expecting fully to be alone in the house since everybody had taken to gathering outside instead of in, but to my surprise, we had a full house. I could hear the distant strain of voices coming from the kitchen and the ratty laughs erupting from Two-Bit. I wasn't really feeling too hungry, so I turned the other way, intending to skip dinner and head to sleep when I had an idea. They wanted to keep an eye on me and scare me every two seconds? I would return the favor. With a grin on my face, I creeped towards the kitchen, trying to make my footsteps light and had just rounded the corner when I heard my name pop up in the conversation.
"Glory, Ponyboy sure is something. I have no idea how you keep up with your kid brother." Steve scoffed. I felt my heart drop. "He's always followin' us around like a lost puppy and it's gettin' real annoying."
"That's a bit rude, don't ya think? But it's kind of true. He's a tuff kid but he ain't really dig the same way we do. Or think, for that matter. Glory, I had to stop him from wandering into traffic the other day because his head was stuck in them damn clouds." Two-Bit added, and I could almost imagine the grin on his face as he barked the words out.
"Y'all-" Darry started.
"Don't you say anything' back to me, Superman, cause' I know you feel the same." Steve snapped. I could feel my blood freeze at his words. The entire kitchen went silent, and I selfishly hoped that my brothers would come to my defense as they always did (whether I wanted them to or not). But Darry just sighed.
"No, you're right, Steve. I just want him to come out of his little cell sometimes but he just doesn't. Dunno if it's cause he can't or doesn't want to. His head's always stuck in the clouds with those darn sunsets n' movies and he only uses his mouth to talk smack or smoke a stick. His grades ain't been looking too pretty lately as well. I don't know what went wrong with him."
"It ain't your fault." Dally comforted. I felt like was going to throw up. Really? Dallas Winston, king of the greasers, who never showed pity for anything and anyone, save for Johnny, was comforting my brother over a family situation? Glory. I think I was gonna throw up.
"But it is! Before Mom and Dad died, he was better. I dunno how to say it, but he was better. And now it just feels the only reason he still wakes up in the morning is because he hasn't died yet."
Well, damn.
"I don't know about that boy. I feel bad about this, but he just keeps on clinging on. I'm worried, Darry. What if he doesn't learn how to make his own friends or think better? What if one day, we ain't there and he walks right into a jumping or something because he ain't pay attention?" Soda asked, his voice small. Was this actually happening? Did they really think I can't socialize or think? Sure, I had the occasional absent-minded incident, but ever since Windrixville, I had gotten a lot better at observing my surroundings and shit.
To make matters worse, it sounded like he was actually fearful about it. Was this the reason why he had been looking so bummed lately? What the f-
"The kid'll be fine. We just gotta stop making ourselves so...available, you gettin' my drift?" Steve reassured. I resisted the urge to light a cigarette and throw it at Steve, big nose and all. "Honestly, I'm surprised the boy learned how to walk without a stretcher." A few half-hearted laughs drifted around before they were interrupted.
"Lay off him. It ain't right to talk about him like this. Y'all ought to talk to this with him, not against him." Johnny stated, his voice soft but harder than I've heard it. I felt a rush of selfish pride for him- but then panicked when I realized that if they took his advice to heart and walked out the door to talk to me, they'd find me outside the kitchen. But I just couldn't move, darn it. My body had frozen up like those frigid nutcracker dollies my Mother used to put out every Christmas.
Lucky for me, no one seemed to want to talk to me face-to-face and half-heartedly apologized to Johnny for talking like that. I almost laughed-why were they apologizing to Johnny? He hadn't been the one getting verbally jumped on.
After that, their conversation shifted to football and the weather. I stayed there, frozen from the shock of it all for a bit more until I heard Two-Bit's voice perk up-
"Hey Darry, shouldn't the boy be back from track by now?"