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The house is heavy.
Well… obviously. But not like that. It’s been weighing down on Pony’s chest like an anvil or something else that weighs a whole lot.
It’s not like Soda’s arm, a comfort even when it’s too warm for the both of them sometimes in the summer.
It’s been a bad couple months. A bad year, really.
His parents died (so did Johnny and Dally) and he and Darry had been fighting (though it had gotten better since their talk with Soda) and everything is bad.
Not to mention the fact that every time Pony is in the house there are eyes on him.
Two-Bit or Steve or one of his brother’s staring at him with the type of worry that can’t be brushed aside. And once they finally leave, the ghost of the feeling stays on him.
It’s suffocating.
He knows he’d been losing weight and zoning out more often than he’d been paying attention and he knows that he missed school that one time a week ago when he couldn’t get up out of bed.
But his teachers hadn’t even cared enough for the cardinal sin they’d been acting like he’d committed!
And he can’t talk to anyone about it.
Maybe Soda, but he’d been trying to avoid the worried looks, not get one full force.
Johnny isn’t here to listen.
And without Johnny, well, Pony doesn’t exactly have too many options. He tried talking to one of his middle school friends a couple days ago, but they’d looked at him all suspicious.
He doesn’t know too many people his age, what with having grown up friends with people at least two years older him, and the ones he does know just look at him all crazy.
Like he scares them.
It makes an uncomfortable feeling suspiciously like shame burn his throat.
He just needs someone to talk to. But whatever cosmic power he’s got looking over him really doesn’t seem to give a shit about him.
It’s kind of fucked up, really.
So, he’s real sad, his health is on a rapid decline, and he doesn’t know a single fucking person who’ll listen.
Which leaves him here. Sitting on the counter of the DX, Steve doing an oil change on some broad’s car and Soda hitting on her while she waits.
She seems to be into it, giggling and smiling. Too bad for her, Soda hasn’t even thought of dating anyone else since the whole Sandy situation.
He just focuses on his book. Until the bell above the door jingles.
The DX manager should really be paying him, for how often he takes over the counter when Soda and Steve are both busy. You’d think there’d be more than two people working at a filling station this popular.
But there’s not, so Pony sighs and puts his book down, looking toward the front of the store. There stands Tim Shepard.
A little half-thrill half-scared bolt of energy shoots up Pony’s spine.
He doesn’t just see Tim around, and Tim definitely doesn’t just walk into the DX station whenever he wants something to eat.
It almost makes Pony jump, but he remains the cool exterior, looking past Tim for a half-second and seeing Soda try to wrap up whatever conversation he’s having with the broad outside.
“Hey, Baby Curtis.” Tim says and Pony about jumps out of his skin, his eyes narrowing a bit.
“Only Curly calls me that.” he says, before he can think. He bites his tongue and hopes Tim doesn’t take it personal. There’s nothing any one of those Shepards hates more than being told they can’t do something.
And especially not Tim, who just so happened to be the roughest hood Pony knows.
Not that Tim would try anything here, with two of Pony’s gang member’s just a wall away. (And especially not when one of those gang members is Pony’s big brother.)
“I know. Little tyke’s always come up with stupid nicknames. Grab me a pack of Marlboros, will ya?”
Pony swallows but turns and grabs a carton from the shelf, throwing it down on the counter, pretending he doesn’t see the candy bar Tim slips into his pocket. “I thought you smoked Camels?”
Tim raises his eyebrows. “How would you know what I smoke?”
Pony raises his shoulders up and draws into himself a little. Tim snorts a little. “Relax. I know you’re friends with Curly and Angel. I’ve been tryin’ ta be more healthy, getting the filtered shit or whatever.”
“Oh.” Pony tries forcing his shoulders to relax, curling his hand into a fist and digging his nails into his skin as he rattles off, “It’s uh, thirty cents.”
“Jesus.” Tim whistles but he doles out three dimes all the same.
Pony hands him the pack, knowing he’s got at least three more things in his pocket but not really itching to call him out on it.
Soda had finally gotten away from the girl outside and he smiles right as Tim turns around. “Hey, Tim. Fancy seein’ you ‘round here.”
Tim puts on a strained smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
Before Soda even has a second to look confused, Tim turns a bit. “Curly’s outta the reformatory. Kid told me to tell ya.”
He’s out of the store before Pony even has a chance to utter some sort of thanks.
Soda comes over and leans on the counter, shaking his head just slightly. “That was weird. ‘S ‘at the only thing he came round for. To tell ya about Curly? Y’know that Curly kid is bad news. Matter ‘a fact, just a few years ago…”
Pony barely listens as Soda talks about all the Tulsa drama Pony has heard a million times before and will hear a million times again.
Stories of the time Soda was in school and what the seniors did to mess with the principal in his freshman year.
Pony might’ve just found someone to listen.
Now, there’s just one problem with trying to connect with Curly Shepard fresh out of the reformatory. That’s when Curly is at his most... well, Curly.
He's mean and cold in ways Pony isn’t used to seeing but everyone else is.
It’s equal parts great and not great.
The good thing about trying to get to Curly Shepard fresh out of the reformatory is that you’ll always know where to find him. It’s always somewhat of a wild card, where he’ll be. But he calms down once he gets out.
Angela keeps him on a tight leash for at least a week. Probably longer, with how long he was put away this time.
He walks along quickly, making sure to not go down any street that one of the gang will be on. (Yes, Pony might have snuck out of the school to go visit the Shepard house, but it’s just because he doesn’t want to be interrogated!)
It’s March, so the sun isn’t exactly beaming down on him, but there’s also not the clear cold that had characterized Pony’s life for the last two months.
Curly loves the cold.
He can hear the Shepard house long before he sees it. Angela’s voice and her mom’s. It’s rare, to see the Shepard mother up and about. She’s not exactly an angel of a mother, Curly always complains that it’s too easy to sneak out, with her laid up in bed high off her ass most of the time.
But when she is up, her and Angela have epic fights. The type of fights that people three blocks over can hear. The type to get spread through the town any time anyone needs something to talk about for the next week.
Pony sighs when he finally sees the house and darts across the dirt lawn, counting the windows on the side of the house carefully. One, Two, Three, Four. Kitchen, Kitchen Again, Boarded up Bathroom Window, Curly’s room.
He smiles a little as he peers into the room. Curly is clearly awake, but he’s laying on his side, clearly not trying to get up.
Pony takes advantage of the yelling and slides the window open with a slight scrape.
He almost falls headfirst onto Curly’s floor, but he catches himself at the last second, instead falling headfirst onto Curly’s bed.
He bounces back quickly, but Curly has already jumped thirty feet in the air, shouted, and grabbed a switchblade from the bedside table, holding it in Pony’s general direction.
When his eyes finally land on Pony, he deflates just a little bit.
“Jesus, you just about scared me to death! Knock or somethin’ next time, man.”
Pony just smirks sheepishly.
“Sorry.”
Curly rolls his eyes. “Somethin’ tells me you don’t mean that.”
Pony looks up innocently and sits down on Curly’s desk.
“But seriously, man. What’re you doin’ here?”
Pony shrugs. “Dunno. Heard from Tim you were out.”
Curly’s eyebrows raise. “What was Tim doin’ talking to you?”
“Told me you told him to let me know.”
Curly snorts. “I didn’t. Maybe he’s been smokin’ more serious shit than he lets on.”
Pony fights down the small reaction that comes from being told Tim had willingly just gone up and talked to him, instead smiling. “Yeah? Maybe he’s warmin’ up to me.”
Curly barks out a laugh. “There ain’t nothing to warm up to. Ol’ Tim has barely got a clue you exist.”
Pony shrugs, and Curly crosses his ankles, sitting up a little. “Sorry ‘bout the noise. Angela and ma got into again. Dunno about what, it’s always something with those two.”
“I’d noticed.”
It’s silent for a couple seconds before, “Nice hair. Gotta say though, Sodapop pulls off the blond a hell of a lot better.”
Pony snorts, and eyes Curly’s own head. “Yeah, yours is real short.”
“Y’know how it is in reformatory.”
He doesn’t. But he nods along anyway. “Yeah.”
It’s just getting awkward, with the silence of this room and the screaming of the next one over, when Curly finally clears his throat again. “Ain’t you got school today?”
Pony shrugs. “Reckon I do.”
“Why ain’t you there? Never thought I’d see the day goody-two-shoes Curtis decided to skip school without any outside influence.”
Pony tries to lighten his tone when he says, “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since anyone’s seen him.”
It falls flat.
“What’s goin’ on, man?”
Pony shrugs off the concern. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like hands pushing down on his chest. It just feels like worry that, for once, isn’t cutting into him.
“I’ve been having a bad couple ‘a months. A real bad couple ‘a months.”
Curly nods. “From what I’ve heard from Tim, you ain’t the only one, neither. Town’s been real shaken since that Bob incident.”
Pony suppresses the shiver that runs up his spine a little at the casual mention of that night.
“Yeah.” Before he can even think it over, he blurts out, “Y’know, I was there.”
Curly raises an eyebrow. “I know that, buddy.”
Pony shakes his head. “No. I was there. Every single time. I was there when every one of them died.”
Curly’s face falls into an easy understanding.
He gets it. Hell, he’d probably seen more death casually on the street than Pony had in his entire life.
But he doesn’t really understand. He can shrug it off because it’s so common for him. It ain’t this groundbreaking, world-shaking, devastating experience.
It’s just a part of life.
“I been havin’ a hard time. My brothers are worried.”
Curly’s eyes seem to harden a little. “From what I’ve heard from Tim, they ain’t the only ones, neither.”
“What do you mean?” Pony asks, forcing his voice to stay even and calm.
“Everyone’s real worried ‘bout how you can just flip a switch like you can. Turn from sweet to mean real fast and smile after doin’ it, too.”
“I’ve always been able to do that.” Pony snaps, before taking a breath and leaning against the wall.
“I know that. And Angie knows that. And so does anyone who’d ever had to experience grade school with you. But you also were never the type to just go around and flaunt it.” Curly’s trying to look uninterested, picking at a scab on his wrist. It isn’t working.
“Dallas was always getting on me and Johnny for not bein’ tough enough.”
Curly bites his cheek subtly. “And I suppose you’re gonna go crazy like Dallas did, too?”
A flare of anger rises in Pony, quick as lightning and double as strong. “Don’t you talk ‘bout Dallas.”
“Oh, come on, Pony. We all know it. You ain’t like Dallas and that’s why you’re still alive. Because you got people to care about.”
Pony wants to shout; he wants to pretend Curly has no idea what Dallas is like. But Curly is a Shepard, and the only people who can really understand a hood like Dallas Winston is a hood like Tim or Curly Shepard.
Pony doesn’t bother fighting.
“I still care.”
Curly sighs and beckons Pony over.
Pony hops off the desk and sits down on the bed easily enough. “You’re goin’ crazy Pony. I can see it and I ain’t seen you in six months. You’re all skinny and you’re so pale that that bleach job you’ve got is darker. You’re goin’ crazy and people are worried.”
Pony pulls his knees to his chest. “I sure feel crazy.”
Curly nods. “I’ll bet. You look tired.”
Pony shrugs, and it gets a sigh out of the other boy.
Curly gets up, “Lay down.”
“I’m gonna miss school.” Pony protests.
Curly waves him off. “I’ll wake you up.”
Pony bites his lip slightly but he lays down. “Promise you won’t let me miss the end of the school day.”
“Sure.” Curly says. “Now take a nap and see if you feel a little more sane when you wake up.”