Chapter Text
Darry’s birthday had been perfect.
For the first time in forever, nothing had gone wrong. The cake was perfect. Ponyboy had picked up the special frosting from the west side bakery. Everyone had made it home in time, dinner was delicious, and he loved his gifts. One was an authentic pocket watch passed down from oldest Curtis to oldest Curtis for generations.
Everything would go wrong a week later.
Within seconds, the watch’s face had snapped off, the springs boinging up like out of a cartoon. Almost masking the sound were Ponyboy’s frantic cries “I’m sorry, oh god I’m so sorry!”
Darry had rushed in, only to find the pocket watch broken on the floor. Irreparably broken. Sure, it could be repaired, but it would never be the same. It would never be the same pocket watch Dad gave him, from his predecessors. Never again.
“What did you do?!” he roared, grabbing Ponyboy by the shoulders and pinning him to the wall.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—it was sitting out and I was trying to put it back in your room—” Pony gasped.
“Don’t lie to me!” Darry shouted. He would never have left the watch out. Of course Pony had gotten it out and been careless with it.
“But it’s true! It’s true! I didn’t mean it, I was trying to put it back in your room and I tripped—”
“Why do you always do that? You never mean it, but it happens! It always happens!”
Pony’s temper had been boiling for a while now. “Well, excuse me, it’s not like I can help that! How else am I supposed to answer?”
“I can’t believe you could be this irresponsible!”
“I WAS TRYING TO PUT IT BACK!” Ponyboy shouted. “You don’t like having your stuff out and I was just trying to put it back!”
“You know how much it meant to me! How much it meant to Dad! How COULD you?!” Darry’s temper was only fading all the more as he and Ponyboy yelled, Darry trying to blame and Pony trying to alleviate.
“I didn’t mean to! God, Darry, why can’t you just see that? You never listen to me!”
“God, I HATE you!”
It was like the air had been sucked out of the room.
“What. Did. You. Just. Say.” Ponyboy’s voice was measured, furious.
“I hate you!” Darry said, his voice much louder and no less intense. “I wish you had never even been born.”
A gasp from the doorway startled both boys. Both their parents stood, home from their long shifts at work. Ponyboy’s face was now draining of color from what Darry had said. Darry’s was growing red, half with anger, half with shame.
“Ponyboy, we’re going to the store. Come on,” Karen Curtis said, with that look in her eyes that was not to be argued with.
“O—okay,” Pony agreed sheepishly, grabbing his coat and trudging out to the back seat.
“Darrel Shaynne. We’ll talk when we get home.” Darrel Curtis Senior’s face was stone, but his eyes were frozen fire. All Darry could do was nod.
Nearly three hours later came the knock at the door.