Chapter Text
(Ponyboy POV)
He stares at the golden light of the sunrise, wishing for more time as the sun rises painstakingly fast. Too fast. Way too fast. He still needs time to think about everything, to thank everything... Just in case.
Today is the day of the reaping. In about... four hours one girl and one boy from their district will be sent into the slaughterhouse. It might be someone from his school. It might be someone from their neighborhood. It might be one of his friends. Heck, it might even be him... Which is why he's out on the rooftop of the Curtis' old, rotting house.
Ponyboy has always enjoyed watching sunrises and sunsets. It had always been a trait of his to go out onto the rooftop (in secret) and state at the fading orange and yellow.
Sunrises and sunsets had always been there in his memories. Always.
Playing football with Darry and the rest of the gang in the lot; winning the 200 meter dash a couple of years ago; going to the movies in secret with Two-Bit and Johnny, as Darry had always claimed they were boring and horrible for his eyesight; ... His parents funeral, which actually happened to be a very bittersweet sort of memory in Pony's head.
Sure, two of the people he loved most in the world were gone forever, but the funeral had been so beautiful and promising. The fading beams of sunlight had bounced and reflected perfectly off of the wood coffins being lowered into the ground. Scattered petals from the white and orange lilies planted around the proceedings.
Darry, Ponyboy's older brother, had almost completely designed and payed for the entire funeral, and Ponyboy though he did a damn good job with it.
The last beams of breathtaking yellow and orange had finally shifted into light blue sky, leaving Ponyboy to stare at apparent emptiness. There weren't even any clouds around to balance it out. It was just plain blue all around- It kind of reminded Ponyboy of the ocean.
He had been to the ocean once, maybe five or six years ago, back when his parents were still alive. All he could really remember from the experience is staring at the open expanse of deep, endless sea from his father's surfboard... That, and building sand castles with Soda up on the beach because Soda had been too afraid to get in the water back then (He was scared of sharks, you see).
That was back when the Curtis family had actually been able to afford taking time off to go to the beach, nowadays, it wasn't like that at all.
Glancing one more time around him, Ponyboy takes a deep breath, sucking in the frigid air. Shame such a beautiful morning had to be wasted on a day dedicated to power and death.
Sliding to the window of the spare bedroom, Ponyboy swiftly climbed through and shut it quietly. No one else in the house was awake yet, he could tell. Soft snores were still coming from the living room, probably Steve's. He had always told him he needed to go to the doctor for his respiratory issues, only to be met with a smack to the face.
Nerves course through his body as he rocks his wristwatch. One hour until everyone gets up and begins to dress, and about three and a half before they have to officially be standing in the courtyard of the town hall.
Ponyboy begins to pace the room, shaking his shoulders, hands, knees, anything that had suddenly started to tense up from nervousness and fear.
After about five minutes of the ridiculous pacing, Ponyboy eventually gives up and decides to go on a walk... or a run. Maybe that will clear up his thoughts. It always seems to.
Yeah, he thinks he'll take a walk over to his school track and jog a couple of laps. That'll get the nerves out of him for sure.
He slips out of the guest room and creeps along the hallway and down the stairs. A small grin forms on his face when he sees the entire rest of their gang sleeping on the floor and couch. Much to his satisfaction, it was indeed Steve snoring his ass off.
Johnny stirs from his position beside the couch, but doesn't fully wake up. Mumbling something under his breath, his half-open eyes spot Pony standing in the doorway.
Ponyboy waves, but turns away knowing that Johnny was not fully conscious whatsoever.
He tiptoes towards the front door, careful to avoid any of the creaking floorboards that were long due for replacement. Darry would absolutely kill him if he knew that Ponyboy was up and out of the house this early. Just a couple of weeks ago, he had caught him coming home from a morning jog and had given him the lecture of a lifetime.
"You need the sleep, Ponyboy," He had whispered dramatically, careful not to wake up anyone else in the house. "If you want to do well in school, you gotta get sleep. It gives you the brainpower. How else are you going to get out of this no-good district? Besides..." Darry had trailed of for a moment, deep in thought. "Besides... I dont trust the early hours, especially not in this part of town. There's too many gangs."
Ponyboy had zoned out for the rest of the lecture after that, well aware that Darry was going to launch off into his familiar speech about getting good grades and being in honors and top of the class.
Ever since his parents had died a little over two years ago, his and Darry's relationship had really started to strain. Darry had taken up the role of 'Head of The House' and now made it his absolute goal to make sure Ponyboy had a bright future. It was getting really old really fast.
Every time Pony messed up on one singular thing, whether it was a few points off his math test, coming inside with Johnny a couple of minutes past curfew, or even just taking too long to go up to his bedroom and study, he would be bombarded with Darry's goals and opinions for him. One day, Ponyboy knew he was going to snap. Maybe he would be having a bad day or something, but one day he was going to snap and yell back louder and angrier than ever. But today was not that day. Not that day at all. Right now, he just wanted to avoid any sort of conflict. Combined with the stress of Reaping Day and the Hunger Games, it would just be too much for someone to handle.
Stepping outside, Ponyboy huffs a breath before lazilt jumping down the small flight of wooden stairs. Golly, does the air smell good. A fresh mix of rain (from the shower that had happened last night), freshly cut grass, and the sweetness of the Linden Trees in his neighbor's front yard. Puddles gleam in the early morning light and cars shine uncomfortably, having been waxed a couple of days ago.
District nine didn't usually look this nice, heck, everything was usually covered in a fine layer of dust because people never bothered to sweep or vacuum or wipe down anything in their old, rotting houses. Lawns were usually green and overgrown to the point where frogs and wildlife lived inside of it, and cars were usually littered with scratches and dents from drunk passerby's or idiotic drivers on the highway.
Broken bottles would litter the streets to the point where it was a waste of money to take your car anywhere at all, as you would more than likely get a flat tire before you're even halfway to the place you'd like to be.
Dried leaves, animal scat, wasted paper and trash usually ruined the sidewalks. Walking on the leaves during Autumn would be entertaining, that is until a giant insect comes crawling out from under your shoe after attempting to crush a particularly crunchy one.
Ponyboy is now over by the lot, his breath visible in front of him in the cool morning. That's how it was in district nine. It would be cold, freezing even, in the mornings but could get up into the hundreds by late afternoon. He knew this happened for a reason, probably because of the position District Nine was on the Earth or some other crap similar to that, but he had never really studied it.
As he continues to walk down the familiar path towards his beat down school, Ponyboy realizes he is fiddling anxiously with the zipper on his thin, beaten hoodie. Fiddling with his accessories and clothing had always been a nervous tick for him, and on more than one occasion he had pulled too much on the threads of T-Shirts or jeans, causing the whole thing to begin falling apart (They weren't better off to begin with, but still). Ponyboy didn't know why he was nervous about the games today.
Ever since the Hunger Games had been made official around twenty five years ago, there had never been a kid from his district that had been chosen to compete that was under 15. Sure, the twelve year olds, thirteen year olds, and fourteen year olds still had to show up - Just in case- but not once had Ponyboy seen someone younger than 15 go into that arena.
Really he had nothing to worry about, it was his gang members he was supposed to be upset for. Darry was officially out of the running, has been for a while. He's now turning 21 this year, which, in Ponyboys opinion, is a big age. That's when real life actually starts to hit you with a freight train. Its also when you can legally drink ;)
Anyway, aside from Darry, the rest of the gang was still in the running. This was Two-Bits last year being eligible though, so that wad good, he thought. Both Steve, Dally and Sodapop, his other older brother who he loved to bits, were all seventeen, meaning they were around the perfect age to get shoved into the death arena.
A chill run through his body. Picturing Soda fighting for his life with a sharp ass sword/knife was not a very fun thing to picture. Besides the fact that it was so unlike his brother, it was also terrible to picture... Because it might very well happen.
Shaking off those horrible thoughts, Ponyboys mind automatically wandered over to Johnny. Johnny was sixteen, and Ponyboy's best bud. They literally did everything together, practically attached to the hip.
If Johnny went into the arena... Ponyboy doesn't even want to think about it. Johnny, like Ponyboy, is tall and scrawny. Sure, they both have some muscle, but it was nothing compared to Tim Shepherd, Darry, or heck, even Dally.
They were both pretty fast though (Obviously, as Pony was a track runner for his school), so he supposed that would be an advantage if either of them ever got chosen.
His body was still tense as he finally arrived at the school track, hoping to run off his troubles. He usually did that. Running was one of the few things that helped calm him down and clear his head when he needed a fresh mind. Running was probably one of the most important things in his life at the moment, and the gang knew that. Johnny and Dally showed up to nearly all of his track meets to cheer him on (Well, Johnny would cheer, Dally would pretend to be unamused but was secretly into it). Sometimes Steve or Soda or Two-Bit would show up if they got the time, but not often, as Soda and Steve worked most afternoon and night shifts at the DX.
Quickly warming up and regaining feeling in his fingers, Ponyboy went and got a stranded block that had been discarded by the side of the track and set it up to his size. The old wood and worn out plastic groaned under the weight of his feet as he got himself situated, before promptly taking off. He thinks he'll do a quick mile around the track (Racing speed) and then go home, since he still has to shiver and get changed into nice clothes.
Fatigue started to set in around the second lap, but the adrenaline and happiness from running overan it. Besides, Ponyboy liked the pain and tiredness that came out of this sort of thing. It makes him feel like he accomplished something.
Three laps in, he also most stumbled over a fallen branch, but that only made him run faster out of embarrassment. Thank God no one was out at this time of day.
He finally finished his fourth lap with a time of 5:42.61, which was pretty good, he thought, considering he hadn't been to track the last couple of weeks because of an unexpected abundance of work that his AP and Honors classes had assigned him. He missed it, but schoolwork was more important.
Ponyboy glances at the clock, which now reads 6:45. If he starts walking now, he'd get home by seven, just as everyone else was waking up. Hed be able to take a quick shower and eat some breakfast. That sounded like a pretty nice morning if you asked him. Besides, he was going to need this happy moment to latch onto for a while, considering the somber weeks that were sure to come while the town mourned the loss of the two kids.
Ponyboy speedily walks back to his house, even jogging at some parts to get more of an exercise in. All too soon, he's staring at the same rotting wooden porch and the damaged roof he had been sitting on an hour ago. There's movement inside the house, which is weird considering it was still only 6:55 (He had gotten there faster than he thought). From inside the house, both Soda and Darry's voice ring out, along with a couple of murmurs from the gang.
"Is Ponyboy up yet? We need everyone to shower and get some breakfast. Yes, Johnny, especially you." Darrel's stern voice cuts through the cold air.
"He wasn't in bed- Probably went on a walk or something." Sodapop answers casually.
Darry's immediate response is cut off from the TV being turned up loud enough to probably wake up the rest of the neighborhood. Two-Bit was watching his cartoons again.
Scoffing slightly with a dopey grin on his face, Ponyboy opens the screen door to his home and makes his way inside, kicking off his shoes (Something that often didn't regularly happen in the Curtis household) because Darry had vacuumed a couple of nights prior.
Entering the living room he saw Two-Bit sitting on Darry's recliner and Johnny sitting on the floor nearby the couch. Johnny had a full plate of food next to him thay he had barely touched. Darry had obviously forced him into eating breakfast with them, as Johnny almost always thought he was bothering them whenever he needed basic things from them. Honestly it was really stupid. Johnny deserves to be able to have the confidence to ask for a glass of water without stumbling over his words. Johnny should have the ability not to coeer at sudden random noises and loud shouting.
It was all his asshole parents tk blame. Instead of divorcing and living happy, healthy lives, they resorted tk constantly fighting and drinking to solve their problems. They would always drag Johnny into these arguments, usually resulting in a black eye or so, as most of the time the fights led to violence.
It didn't matter. Johnny stayed with the Curtis' most nights nowadays, finally growing more comfortable with the group. And, if he wasn't on their couch or sleeping on their spare bedroom (Which Ponyboy forces him to sleep in sometimes if he had a particularly rough day), he was out in the lot, staring at the stars.
Ponyboy joined the stargazing most of the time, and it turned out to be a really good way to talk to each other about... Anything, really. That was what was magical about Pony and Johnny's friendship. Around the gang, they were the young quiet ones who went along with whatever, but together (Specifically alone) they could talk about anything and everyone. No one, not even Dally, has ever been able to make Johnny open up as much as Pony has. Their best friends.
Johnny looks up from the switchblade he was fiddling with and notices Ponyboy standing in the doorway, staring at him. His eyes instantly brighten and a small grin comes from his face.
"Heya, Pony!" He exclaims, sitting up a little bit and quickly pocketing the knife. "Where ya been off too?"
Ponyboy grins, "Just a walk, scootch over now will you?"
Johnny makes way on the floor for his best friend. And quickly pushes his plate of food in between the two of them to share. Wordlessly, they start eating the sausages and scrambled eggs (Yes, with their bare hands), as if Ponyboy sudden appearance had brought back something to Johnny's appetite.
A deep sigh came from the arm chair that Two-Bit was sitting on. "They keep interrupting Mickey with reminders about today. Its getting annoying. Its not like anyone can forget Reaping Day, stupid son of a bitch network."
Glancing at Johnny, Ponyboy let's out a chuckle before picking up their (Now) empty plate and heading to the kitchen to clean it. As he climbs the stairs, he passes Steve, who sits on the very top of them, still looking half-asleep and over literally everything.
"Heya, kid.." He mumbles half-heartedly. A year ago, all Ponyboy would've received was a glare or a "Watch where your going, jerk!", but ever since the scare of the murder and fire in Windrixville, Steve had been much nicer to him.
Sometimes Ponyboy liked to think it was because Steve actually got a glimpse of what it was like without the 'Tagalong' or 'Pet' in the house. He liked to think that maybe Steve missed their presence or occasional additions to the conversation. But then Steve would complain about how moody Soda was during that week and all of Ponyboy's amusement and hope would instantly be diminished.
He enters the kitchen, successfully avoiding a sulky Dally laying his head on the table. Knowing him, he would get the younger boy wrapped up in the most random conversation about drugs or violence or both combined. The gang liked to say Dally had a soft spot for only Ponyboy and Johnny, simply because of how he treated them. Which was cute, in Ponyboys opinion. The toughest and (kind of) oldest of the group hanging out with the wimpiest and youngest members of the group... And actually enjoying their company.
Sodapop and Darry are both in the kitchen washing breakfast dishes and cleaning the countertops. Darry, per usual, looks ticked off about something. Probably Ponyboy's little walk debacle...Or his most recent grade in math (A shocking 88%, which wasn't the best for Pony).
Sodapop looks a little stressed as well, but still his usual happy self. In fact, he's the first to notice Ponyboy standing behind them waiting for the availability of the sink.
"Pony!" He exclaims, wrapping his free arm around his kid borders shoulders and jostling him a bit, smiling broadly. "Where ya been? Darry was about to throw a fit again."
"I don't throw tantrums, Sodapop. Watch your mouth." Came the muffled reply of Darry, who's head was stuffed in one of the cabinets, obviously trying to reach something in the far back. "Did you eat yet, Ponyboy?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I shared with Johnny." Pony muttered, sidestepping Soda and walking over to the sink to clean my plate and put it on the drying rack.
"That boy will never eat food when we give it to him." Darry sighs, before instantly raising his voice to an ear-splitting shout. "Alright! Someone go take a shower. I want everyone to be clean today, no grease, nice clothes, and put on deodorant. Get that cake off of your face Steve."
A grunt comes from the stairwell and Dally gets up to go and take his shower first. His footsteps are deliberately thundering as he slams the door to the bathroom. He's trying to piss off Darry.
Both him and Steve (And occasionally Two-Bit) like to see just how much it takes to pass of Darry on a reaping day.
Its a sort of game they play, and Golly, it can be entertaining sometimes. Last year Steve had morphed chocolate cake into the shape of a shit and left it in the toilet right before Darry's turn in the bathroom was up. Dally had beaten him, though, when he had tied Darry's shoelaces together so that he had fallen down the front porch when he had been rushing to out them on so they could leave.
The water turns on and I give Sodapop a pat of acknowledgment on the shoulder before returning making my way back downstairs. Steve had moved from his position and was now trying to pick a fight with Two. That was his nervous tick, wrestling and starting problems. I ahd figured it out years before when my parents were still alive.
Soda had been diagnosed with appendicitis and was having it removed. I knew he was going to be fine, I had been up all night researching the medicine and surgery techniques used, but Steve was never the brightest. He had wrestled and picked fights with everyone waiting for Soda to be discharged. It was sweet, but also really agitating.
He sits next to Johnny again and he leans against Pony a little bit. Looking at him, he notices the bags under his eyes and sighs sadly. Ponyboy knows that he hadn't been here when he had went to bed last night, so, knowing him, he probably was sleeping in the lot until the cool breeze and frigid temperatures had been too much to bear.
Johnny, because of his scumbag parents, had a really hard time accepting help from people, even if they were practically family.
Around ten minutes later, Dally comes out of the bathroom, shaking his wet hair everywhere. He doesn't look half bad. He's ditched the leather jacket and put on a collared T-shirt. He had blue, unstained (A miracle, if you ask Ponyboy) jeans on and his hair was ungreased. It looked so unlike Dally, it was almost frightening, but Darry seemed to approve as he sent Sodapop in immediately afterwards.
Slowly but surely, the showers commence. Ponyboy is second last to go, right after Darry, who uses so much soap it becomes hard to stay upright in the shower without slipping around. What was the man washing himself so thoroughly for anyway? It's not even like he's in the reaping anymore.
Finishing the shower, Ponyboy steps out of the tub and sighs, staring at his red face in the mirror. Everyone else in the gang always complained about Ponyboy's water temperature after he finishes showering, claiming it's way too hot for them at the beginning.
"Glory, how does the kid thrive in that?" Two had asked once, shooting a smile at Ponyboy. The other guys had murmered in agreement before going back to their activities.
He wasn't sure why he liked it so hot, but he did. It relaxed his body after long days of school and track practice.
Quickly, Ponyboy dries and dresses himself. Checking the mirror, he thinks he actually looks pretty decent. He's wearing a blue and white flannel shirt tucked into a good pair of jeans held on with his father's old belt. It was rare in the Curtis household to keep shirts and clothing clean and unstained, so Ponyboy found himself lucky to have this outfit. The shirt reminded of the fond times he had spent with Johnny inside of the church before it had burned down.
If you asked Ponyboy, he would say that he felt like this period for time strengthened the two's bond even more. Beforehand, they had been the wuie8pair of the group. Best friends. Now, they're practically inseparable. Sometimes Dally joins them, and they become the group of three they were again, but its not the same. Dally still has a great time though, because the two will do whatever he wants.
Slipping on a pair of socks and ignoring the itch in his fingers to grab some grease from the container and run it through h is hair, Ponyboy opens the door to the steamy bathroom and allows for Two-Bit to come replace him.
He goes to his room and fixes his hair so the majority of it is flat against his head (Except for the one tuft of hair that always stuck up in the front... Ah well, it doesn't look bad. It actually adds to the look).
He picks up his new book, 'The Lord Of The Flies' and makes his way to the living room. Ignoring the pillow that hit him directly in the face (Courtesy of Steve) he sits kn the couch next to Soda and opens his book, finding himself lost in the pages.
He found the book really interesting. The entire concept was so unrealistic and realistic at the same time. The boys slowly but surely turning insane and resorting to doing unforgivable things to stay alive was such a good plot and concept to help describe the modern world-
"Ponyboy!" A voice yelling his name snaps him out of his trance and he glances up at Darry, snapping his fingers in front kf his face.
"Huh? What?" He mutters, sliding a bookmark into his book (He had read over fifty pages) and setting it down on the desk. A dark figure beside him let's out a chuckle, and he notices Johnny had replaced Soda and had been reading over his shoulder the whole time.
"Almost time to leave. The gang is starting up the car. Can you get your shoes on and make sure you have everything, please? The nice converse, Ponyboy."
"Alright, alright. " Ponyboy groans. He loved his everyday converse (All the gang owned really was just converse) but they certainly wouldn't do for the repaing. The tears and the stains would not be appreciated by the capital people tuning in to watch.
Suddenly fear grips his heart as he wanders to his bedroom and gets the shoes out of his closet to begin putting them on. Realistically, he knows he shouldn't be scared of going to the reaping. He isn't going to be chosen. That's that.
But a little voice in the back of his head continues to whine as he and Johnny walk out the door together, meeting the gang outside.
Because Two-Bits peice of junk is down again, they have to take both Darry and Sodas trucks (Both in need of a checkup and repair, but still in running condition). The gang eventually comes to the conclusion of who's riding with who.
Two-Bit, Steve, And Darry will take his truck, since there's room for three people in the front. The rest will pile into Spdas bigger one. Pony and Johnny hop in the back together as Dally takes the front (He always calls the radio duty).
Darry winds down his window as they pull out of the driveway. "Hey, I'll see yall there. We'll be fine. Just dont piss off the Peacekeepers on the road, please. I dont want any trouble, specially not today."
Next to him Steve woops and shouts as Two-Bit screams "Its Reaping Day!"