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There’s a book open on Ponyboy’s lap. He hasn’t turned a single page in ten minutes.
At this point, he doesn’t even remember what he’s reading. It might be The Wizard of Oz, or Oliver Twist, or even Darry’s copy of The Carpetbaggers that Ponyboy certainly isn’t supposed to have. He couldn’t say. And besides, the story doesn’t even matter anymore, because there’s screaming coming from Johnny’s house.
That much isn’t new. Hardly a day goes by where shouting and cursing and the sound of hands against skin doesn’t drift across the yards that separate the Cades from the Curtises. It’s become disturbingly normal, like the barking of stray dogs or the crickets at night. It’s part of the fabric of the neighborhood. Ponyboy’s used to hearing his best friend in pain by now.
Sometimes there’s just yelling, muffled words that he can’t entirely make out but he knows are nothing like the ones his own mother uses. Other times the yelling is accompanied by bangs and cracks and crashes and cries. Those are the nights where Johnny shows up at their door with that sad puppy face he wears more often than not and spends the night on their couch. Sometimes he shares Ponyboy’s bed, if he’s hurt bad enough. If he’s willing to admit it.
Another scream wafts through the wind that ruffles the pages of Ponyboy’s book, and he resists the urge to cover his ears. It isn’t that he wants to shut Johnny out, it’s just…there’s nothing he can do to help. He’s the only one home right now – Darry’s at football, Soda’s down at the DX with Steve, Mom and Dad are running a few errands in town. Usually when the clamoring from Johnny’s house becomes too much to bear, Pony will tell his dad, or Darry. The oldest of the Curtis men will march down to Jonathan Cade’s door and put a stop to it for the night.
(It’s crushingly unfair, Ponyboy thinks, that Johnny is named after his father.)
While Dad and Darry are handling Mr. Cade, Ponyboy and Soda will help their mother prep the first aid kit and a plate of leftovers for Johnny’s arrival. They’ll welcome Pony’s best friend into their home with open arms and let him pretend he’s theirs. Honestly, for all the times he’s eaten at their table and sat down at their TV to catch Gilligan’s Island, Johnny’s last name might as well be Curtis. Ponyboy often wishes it was.
But now, as Johnny’s terrified voice practically slams into Ponyboy where he sits, there’s no one else around to hear it. There’s no one else to tell. How is he supposed to just sit here and listen?
Ponyboy is never, under any circumstances, allowed to go anywhere near the Cade’s. Both his parents and his brothers have been perfectly clear; that house is dangerous. And he knows that.
Which is exactly why he finally sets his book down on the broken wood of the porch and starts down the street. Because if Johnny’s house is too dangerous for Pony, then it’s even worse for the boy who actually lives there. And that boy is the best friend Ponyboy’s ever had in all his ten years. What kind of friend would Pony be in return if he leaves him alone now? Someone’s gotta do something, and he’s the only someone around.
Still, though, Ponyboy can’t stop himself from shaking the closer he gets to Johnny’s door. The shouting is louder now and he hears something delicate shatter against the wall. It scares him something fierce, but Pony’s almost grateful for the noise. He’s reminded of what could shatter next if he doesn’t act fast.
“You little bastard!” A harsh, biting insult echoes through the night air. Ponyboy gasps and stops in his tracks just before the front steps. Johnny’s dad.
Pony’s only ever seen him in person once or twice, his wife even less. They don’t exactly come to church picnics. All Ponyboy knows about Johnny’s dad is that he hurts his son. All he knows about Johnny’s mom is that she lets him.
And suddenly Pony’s just angry. The scared in him is still there, clawing at his heart, but the anger is larger. It takes up so much space it’s almost like Pony doesn’t have room for air in his lungs. Nobody should ever treat Johnny like this. Call him names and beat him and make him cry and —
No. It needs to stop.
Ponyboy screws up every ounce of courage he has left and races up the stairs before he can change his own mind. He’s lucky the door isn’t locked, though he selfishly almost wishes it was as he takes in the sight that meets him inside the Cade house.
Years will pass, decades will come and go, and Ponyboy will never forget what he sees.
Johnny, his best friend in the whole world, curled up in the corner of the kitchen. His father standing over him, a wooden two-by-four in his hand. His mother lingering in the doorway, screaming senselessly. The plank coming down hard and fast and slamming straight into Johnny’s back. Over and over again.
But that’s not even the worst part. No, the most horrifying part of it all, the thing that really sends Ponyboy into a cold-blooded panic, is that Johnny isn’t making a sound anymore. He’s just taking it.
Johnny’d been calling out earlier, but now he’s gone deathly silent as his old man wails on him harder than anything. His lips are pressed together tightly as his entire body shakes. Each hit from the wood brings new tears to his eyes, and to Pony’s too, but Johnny doesn’t let his fall. It doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing with how quiet he is. Ponyboy can’t remotely understand. Why isn’t Johnny fighting back?
Well, it don’t matter. He doesn't have to. Because Pony’s gonna fight for him.
He pulls himself out of his stupor and rushes into the house without even bothering to close the door behind him.
“Stop! Stop it!” Ponyboy shouts. His mind is frenzied, buzzing like a hive of terrified hornets. The only coherent thought that makes it to the rest of his body is no more. Darry always says Ponyboy doesn’t use his head, but maybe that’s fine. Maybe he’ll just listen to his heart instead. That’s what’s making him brave right now anyway.
Because before he realizes exactly what he’s doing, Ponyboy’s standing between Johnny Cade and his father.
“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Jonathan Cade’s arm is raised halfway in the air as the two-by-four looms threateningly overhead. Ponyboy wills himself not to look at the dark wood. It’s not going to touch Johnny again as long as he’s here.
Pony spares a glance behind him to where Johnny still crouches. He hasn’t moved an inch; Ponyboy’s not sure if he even realizes anyone else is there.
“I’m his friend, and you’re not gonna hurt him no more!” He turns back to Johnny’s dad and glares with all the hatred he possesses. It still doesn’t feel like enough.
Fury blazes in the older man’s eyes, and Ponyboy swallows a jolt of fear. This is for Johnny. He’s doing this for Johnny.
“I know you ain’t tellin’ me what to do in my own house, boy.”
The words are icicles dangling from the porch on a frozen morning. Cold, sharp, ready to strike at any moment. Johnny’s father’s entire face is red – Pony would guess from both rage and the drink. He hardly looks human. He’s more like a monster, something out of Dracula or Werewolf of London. Mom hadn’t wanted him to watch those movies with Darry and Soda last summer, but Ponyboy’s glad he did. Now he can see Jonathan Cade for exactly what he is.
“You can’t treat him like this! It’s wrong.” Ponyboy stands his ground, jutting out his chin defiantly. “He’s your son.”
Pony’s dad would never, ever do this. So Johnny’s shouldn’t either.
“Outta my way!”
Mr. Cade takes a step forward, and it’s like everything after happens too fast and too slow at the same time. Johnny doesn’t move when his father grabs Ponyboy’s wrist and swings him to the floor. Pony lands hard on his elbow, crying out before he can stop himself. The older man is strong; Ponyboy doesn’t even want to think about what he could have done if he’d actually wanted to hurt him instead of just get rid of him. But he has to think about it, because Jonathan will do it to his own kid if Pony doesn’t move.
Johnny’s finally looking at him when Ponyboy peels himself off the ground. His eyes are round and horrified as his mouth hangs open in shock. He’s still trembling something awful, and he’s still not saying a word. Ponyboy hears him loud and clear anyway. They’ve never needed words.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to come help you.”
Their unspoken conversation is cut short when Johnny’s gaze flickers quickly back to his dad. Ponyboy’s follows just in time to see the two-by-four slicing through the air again, and pure adrenaline sends him leaping back to his feet. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Johnny get hurt again. Plain and simple.
Ponyboy plants himself in front of Johnny again and shoves Jonathan Cade backwards with all his might. To his surprise, Johnny’s father actually stumbles. He drops the wooden plank as his feet trip over themselves, and for a moment, Ponyboy thinks it’s over. But then Mr. Cade surges forward and slaps him across the face.
It hurts so badly that Pony drops back to the floor in a heap, willing everything strong inside of him not to cry. Is this how Johnny feels all the time?
“Ponyboy!” Suddenly Johnny’s voice is in his ears, and a pair of much gentler hands is helping him to his feet. “Come on, Pony!”
Pony’s mind is swimming with pain and purpose; he hasn’t forgotten what he’s here for. He grips Johnny’s forearm tightly and hauls himself up.
They’re moving as soon as Pony’s back on two legs. The house is small, there isn’t much space between the front door and the kitchen, but it might as well be an eternity away. Time doesn’t seem to be working right either, because Ponyboy feels like they’ll never make it out.
“You ungrateful, worthless, pathetic son of a bitch!” Johnny’s father bellows from just behind them. “Need your little friends to fight your battles now? You’re fucking weak!”
The insults cut into Ponyboy’s skin as if they were aimed at him; it hurts just as much to hear them thrown at Johnny instead. He glances toward his best friend. The other boy flinches, but then shakes his head as he looks back at Pony. And he keeps going.
Johnny’s the bravest person Pony knows. Maybe even braver than Darry.
The two of them scramble past the threshold of the front door, Mr. Cade still lumbering toward them. Johnny’s mother is nowhere to be seen now. Pony wonders distantly if she got bored of watching her child suffer.
Johnny pulls Ponyboy down the stairs, then lets out a sharp gasp. “Shit!”
They hit the ground before Ponyboy can even comprehend that they’ve moved at all. Something flies over their heads before crashing a few yards to their right, and Pony sees the shadowed outline of the two-by-four lying on the grass. He smothers a scream. Johnny’s dad — he’d — he’d actually thrown —
Ponyboy had been trying so, so hard not to be scared. He’d just wanted to keep his friend out of danger. He thought if he could go in the house and tell Jonathan to knock it off just like Dad and Darry, everything would be fine. But now he’s cowering on the Cade’s overgrown, mangled yard after a grown man threw a wooden plank at them, and he’s terrified. How had he gotten everything so wrong?
“Pony, get up, we gotta go!” Johnny grabs his hand and brings him back to the present. He’s always been the best at reminding Pony what’s real and what’s just in his head. Right now, everything around them is shockingly, horribly real.
Ponyboy nods shakily and stands, letting Johnny lead him down the street toward home. Home, where his mom and dad and brothers are. Where it smells like a chocolate cake just pulled from the oven and everything is comfortably worn-in because nothing is new. Where nothing like the past twenty minutes would ever happen in a million years. Where they’ll be safe.
It’s dark by the time the Curtis porch light comes into view – Pony’s missed the sunset tonight. But he can’t find it in himself to care, because at least Johnny’s still walking and talking and breathing beside him. At least they’re both out of that nightmare house.
Dad’s pickup isn’t in its place yet, so Ponyboy’s parents aren’t back. But as long as Darry or Soda is inside (or both of them, preferably both, Pony needs them more than ever right now), they’ll be okay. His brothers will know exactly what to do.
Johnny’s still gripping Ponyboy’s hand tightly in his own as they push their way into the living room. Pony doesn’t even think about asking him to let go.
“Darry!” Johnny calls desperately as soon as they’re through the door. “Soda!”
“Johnnycakes? That you?”
Pony’s eyes finally spill over as soon as he hears Soda’s voice. He can’t help it, all the scared he’s been pushing down comes bubbling up to the surface again now that the hard part is over. His cheek hurts like the devil, and he can’t breathe, and Johnny might’ve been killed tonight. It’s too much to think about.
“Soda, it’s Pony –” His best friend starts to say, but then he’s cut off when Soda trots into the room from down the hall and lets out a startled cry at the sight of them.
“Glory!” He rushes forward and supports Pony around his waist, guiding him carefully to the couch. “Pone, what the hell happened? Dar!”
Soda doesn’t even wait for Darry to respond before he cups Ponyboy’s bad cheek and runs a thumb over it. A bruise must be blooming, because Pony feels pain shoot through his entire face. He whimpers despite himself.
“Oh, baby, who did this? Socs?” Soda murmurs. His normally kind, bright eyes are tinged with sadness and worry instead, and Ponyboy hates it. Soda don’t deserve to look like that.
A reply tries to form on his tongue, but to Pony’s horror, it comes out as a sob instead. It takes less than a second for Soda to wrap his arms around him and press his face into his shoulder as he cries. Pony’s second big brother gives comfort like he would never run out.
“What happened?” Soda asks again, but not to Pony.
There’s a moment of tense silence before:
“My dad.”
Oh, no, no no. Johnny’s crying too, now. Ponyboy can tell by the way his words are choked up like he can barely make himself say them. But Johnny wouldn’t lie, especially not to Soda. Especially not about Pony.
“What?” Soda’s reply is low, unsteady. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What do you mean, Johns?”
A door slams from somewhere behind them, and Ponyboy jumps without meaning to. Johnny squeezes his hand again.
It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be Johnny comforting Pony when nothing had hardly even happened to him. Sure, he’d gotten thrown around. Johnny’s dad had slapped him. But that was nothing compared to what that bastard does to his actual son on a daily basis. Ponyboy’s not the one who should be scared. He doesn’t deserve to be the one in pain. Tonight was supposed to be about Johnny, and now Pony’s making it all about him. Shame burns his eyes.
“What’s all the fuss out here?” Darry’s gruff voice comes from around the corner. Ponyboy lifts his head from Soda’s shoulder to see his oldest brother holding a towel, his hair damp from the shower. Darry stops in his tracks when he reaches the living room and meets Pony’s wide, glassy stare.
“Jesus Christmas, Ponyboy!” He practically flies to the couch; he’s Superman for a reason. His large hands gently take Pony’s face, just like Soda did, and turn it from side to side. “That’s some mark you got there, kiddo.”
Ponyboy hates the way his lip quivers in place of a response. He must be the biggest coward on the East Side. But there’s nothing he can do about it now, there’s too much leftover fear churning in his chest.
“Johnny says his dad did it,” Soda whispers, but they all hear him. Johnny stiffens beside Ponyboy, and he glances behind him to see his best friend purposefully looking away with something like guilt on his face.
“What? How the hell–” Darry cuts himself off as realization washes over his features. His hands move from Ponyboy’s face to his forearms, gripping them desperately. “Pony. You didn’t go over there, did you?”
Pony’s mouth opens and shuts. It isn’t until Darry puts words to what he’s done that it really hits him. He’d marched on into Johnny’s house with no plan and no one around to help if things went wrong – which they did. Why did he think he could take on Mr. Cade by himself? Darry’s right about him. Ponyboy must have a brain, but a fat lot of good it’ll do him and his friends if he doesn’t ever use it.
“I –”
A tear drips onto the back of Pony’s hand.
“My old man was goin’ at me again. Pony heard it. He was just tryin’ to help.”
Johnny’s words are barely more than a whisper. He’s still not meeting anyone else’s eyes, and his chest rises and falls faster than normal. Ponyboy immediately interlocks their fingers. A silent promise. I’m right here.
Darry sighs deeply as Soda lets out a small, horrified gasp. “Oh, Pone.”
“I couldn’t just listen, Soda! I – I had to do something. Johnny was gettin’ hurt!” The sound of wood on skin would stay with Ponyboy for a long, long, time. He just knew it. But even worse was the way Johnny hadn’t even whimpered as it happened. How much more would he have had to take in silence before it stopped?
“Pony, we’ve told you a hundred times. And so have Mom and Dad. You ain’t supposed to be anywhere near that house!” Darry doesn’t sound mad, exactly. If Ponyboy didn’t know his big brother better, he’d almost say he sounds scared.
“Dar,” Soda says softly with a hand on Darry’s shoulder. “Come on.”
He jerks his head toward Johnny, who’s still staring holes in the floor. Darry’s mouth settles into a tight line, but he runs a hand through Pony’s sweaty hair.
“Alright. Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?” His tone is sadder as he stands up. Ponyboy starts to nod until sudden pang of worry shoots through his system.
“You ain’t gonna tell Mom and Dad, are you?” If his parents find out about this, he’s gonna have a lot more problems than a smarting cheek. What if they don’t let him see Johnny anymore? Pony wouldn’t be able to take that, he just couldn’t.
Darry hesitates for a moment. He looks between Pony and Soda, who’s shaking his head in protest because Soda’s always got his back. Glory, he’s the best brother in the whole wide world.
Then Darry looks at Johnny, too, and for once Ponyboy can tell exactly what the older boy is thinking. If their parents get involved, they might get Johnny’s parents involved. And that could mean real bad news for Johnny Cade.
“No. We’ll just…say you fell. Hit something on the way down.” Darry finally decides. Ponyboy lets out a sigh of relief and grips Johnny’s hand again.
“Thanks, Darry,” he manages a smile at his big brother as he wipes away a stray tear. Darry smiles back.
“You’re welcome, little colt. Proud of you.”
He disappears back down the hall toward the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, leaving behind a warm feeling in Ponyboy’s chest that chases away all the scared that still remains. Darry’s proud of him. Could anything be better than that?
The only thing that possibly compares is the tight, perfect hug Soda gives him before rising from the couch.
“You sure are brave, Ponykid,” he murmurs fondly. Ponyboy feels Soda kiss the top of his head before he ruffles Johnny’s hair. “And so are you, Appleseed.”
Johnny peeks out at Soda under his lashes, a shy grin pulling at his lips. “Nah.”
“Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse, these two!” Soda just laughs as he follows Darry. Ponyboy giggles, and even Johnny lets out a breath through his nose.
Pony still doesn’t let go of Johnny’s hand, even after his brothers are gone and it’s just the two of them left in the living room. It’s like his best friend is anchoring him, keeping him rooted in the real world just by being there. Johnny’s hand in his suddenly makes Ponyboy glad. Glad he’d gone over to that house, glad he’d stepped in between Johnny and his father. Because what would have happened if he hadn’t? This could’ve been the time Johnny’s dad went too far. And then Ponyboy might not get to hold his friend’s hand anymore.
“Don’t do that again, Pony.”
Johnny still speaks quietly even when no one else is around. But at least he’s looking at Pony properly now, his dark eyes wide and earnest.
“I mean it,” he continues when Ponyboy opens his mouth to respond. “He hurt you tonight. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt on my account.”
Pony studies Johnny for a moment. He takes in the other boy’s hunched shoulders, his nervous hands, his shaking legs. Johnny’s filled to the brim with kindness and compassion, things he’s got in spades but never gets back from the people meant to love him. One day he’ll run out. Ponyboy’s not going to let that happen, not ever. Johnny’s gotta stay Johnny.
The truth is, Pony would go back to the house. He’d be scared out of his wits, because now he knows exactly what happens there. But that’s why he’d do it anyway.
Maybe, though…maybe Johnny doesn’t have to know that. Not right now.
“Okay.” Ponyboy replies just as softly. “But you gotta promise me something.”
Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”
“Tonight, you’re not goin’ back either.”
Thankfully, Johnny doesn’t argue. He just curls himself against Ponyboy’s side and closes his eyes without another word. But they’ve never needed words. All they’ve ever needed is each other’s hand to hold.