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By the grace of something divine, Ponyboy’s college graduation falls on a day of sunshine and a cool breeze. It is nothing like his high school ceremony, in which a torrential downpour had caused rainwater to seep into the gymnasium through the cracks beneath the door and tornado sirens had cut the valedictorian’s speech embarrassingly short. Darry had cut through the crowds to yank Pony by the gown to the parking lot, where the gang hunkered down in the safety of their storm cellar and Ponyboy got to drink the beer Two-Bit snuck for him.
Darry smacked the back of Two’s head so hard Pony thought his mutton chops would fly off his face, but he let Ponyboy finish the drink, so their plan held its worth.
It’s strange to see the gang together so far out of Tulsa. They still haven’t crossed state lines, but they’ve never gathered on his campus like this before. It had taken every bit of composure Ponyboy had not to collapse in embarrassment when his brothers stood up and hollered after his name was called. He had begged them not to on the phone two nights ago, but Darry said, “Magna cum laude, Colt! How can we not?” Whoever stands at the end of the stage taking pictures of the handshakes with the dean certainly has a picture of his face bright-red and shameful.
Pony had thought the two-stringed chords lining his neck atop his stole looked stupid, but Sodapop gleams in joy when he sees them in person, tugging on the ends until they are perfectly even against the front of his robe. They’re stood awkwardly in front of the auditorium, gathered in their own little circle amidst the sea of people. “Wow, Pone. I just can’t believe it. You’re all grown up, for real this time.”
Rolling his eyes, Steve shoves his arms across his chest, burying his hands against his chest. “You say this every time, Pepsi. He’ll be fourteen ‘til his doctorate, if you keep this up.” Steve nods his head towards Two-Bit. “You ready?”
”Huh?” he asks. Two’s brows are furrowed on his forehead as he looks around for a clue. Steve gestures his head down towards his friend’s belt, where a camera hangs by its string around the loop. “Oh, right,” he muttered, fumbling with the clasp. He breaks it in two and tugs the camera into his hands. “Okay, okay. Who’s first?”
”Let me get this over with. Come here, kid,” he demands, nodding towards Pony.
”Nuh-uh! We gotta get a good view of the school. You,” Two pauses, pointing to Steve, “go to him. And you two,” he waves to Darry and Soda, “get the hell out of my frame.”
Darry snorts. “Who made him in charge of this again?”
Sodapop glares up at him. “You.”
Groaning, Darry rolls his eyes so hard they scrape dangerously against the back of his skull. “Right. Glory, don’t ever let me do that again,” he mutters.
”Hey!” Two shouts, peering his eye over the top of the camera. “I’ll have you remember the picture Steve tried to take last time, where he covered the whole damn lens with his finger. You need me.” Two-Bit leans forward, pressing his eye into the little window in the corner. “Alright, good. At least pretend you like the kid, Steve. Get a little closer. Give ‘im a hug, or somethin’.”
Ponyboy glances up at him, letting his hands fall to his side. “You don’t have to do anythin’ crazy. Just smile, I guess,” he offers. He’s known Steve for almost his whole life, so Pony is well aware that the guy isn’t all-too affectionate. Even with Soda, he doesn’t make much physical contact outside arm wrestling and scrapping.
“Nah, kid,” Steve argues. He flashes a purely evil grin for a split second before reaching out, yanking Ponyboy towards his chest. Pony yelps in alarm, drawing the curious gazes of people around them, as Steve digs his knuckles into his scalp, just beside where his cap ends. The camera flash causes Ponyboy to squint his eyes shut, and Steve releases him moments later. “There ya’ go, squirt.””
”I hate you,” Pony grumbles with a glare. There’s a smile on his face, though, plastered from eye to eye. Steve pats his shoulder before walking away. Ponyboy glances at Two, who has barely recovered from his bout of laughter. “Give the camera to Dare. I want one with you, too.”
Two-Bit is eager, practically tossing the camera into Darry’s hands and running across the sidewalk. Darry starts scolding him to ”be careful,” because cameras are expensive and hard to replace, but Keith’s too excited to bother waiting. He turns around in front of Ponyboy and bends his knees. Pony doesn’t need further direction. He steadies his free hand on Two’s shoulder and jumps, launching himself up onto Two’s back. The redhead stumbles before he steadies, a sturdy hand placed beneath either of Pony’s thighs.
Ponyboy is cackling while raising his diploma high above his head. Two huffs and smiles. Behind the camera, Darry mutters, “Glory, you two,” before clicking the shutter. The flash doesn’t hurt as much this time. Two squats back down and releases the hold on his legs. Ponyboy slides down to the ground and shimmies his gown back into place.
As he walks towards Darry, Two-Bit presses the heel of his palm into his lower back. “You’re gettin’ too big for that, kid. Glory.”
“You asked me!” Ponyboy gawks. “Don’t blame me for you bein’ old.”
Darry guides Sodapop by the shoulder, who goes sprinting to Pony’s side. “Carefully who you’re callin’ old, darlin’. Let’s do a nice one first. Mom and Dad would have our heads if we didn’t.” Darry presses himself into Pony’s right side, while Sodapop goes to his left. Pony’s as tall as Darry is, now. When they’re all in a good mood, he argues that he’s got half an inch on his older brother, and Sodapop usually backs him up, unless Darry’s hair isn’t greased back properly that day, and it stands up too tall for debate.
“Alright, on three! One, two,” Two-Bit counts. He clicks the shutter on the border of two, but Ponyboy can tell his brothers are smiling, anyway. Two sends them a thumbs-up and glances back into the window. “Alright, do somethin’ fun!”
“Give me a sec!” Ponyboy shouts. He drops his hands from his brothers’ shoulders and dutifully ignores the shaking in them. He’s had this plan floating around his mind for weeks, yet the idea of following through makes him nervous. Ponyboy takes a step back and peels both sides of his gown away, stripping it off beneath his stole. He side-steps and holds the gown up behind Sodapop’s back, before dropping it over his shoulders.
Soda looks down at his arms, confused. “What are you doin’, honey?” he asks, looking over his shoulders. “I ain’t cold, just excited. Plus, this ain’t mine,” Sodapop argues.
Pony hums, “I know,” and walks around to his front. He rips the two stringy cords off his neck and drapes them on the back of Soda’s fixing them on his front just as his brother had done for him minutes ago. Sodapop’s face is twisted up in confusion, but Ponyboy leaves him there in exchange for approaching Darry. His mouth is half-open preparing to ask questions, but he’s quickly cut off by Ponyboy ducking his head and lifting his stole.
He reaches out and places overtop Darry’s head, laying the piece flat and even atop his shoulders. “Ponyboy, what on Earth are you doin’?” he asks. Ponyboy plucks the cap off his head and reaches out, pulling the scrunches edge over the crest of Darry’s head. Darry reaches up to slide it away, but Ponyboy smacks his hand away. Darry groans in confusion as Ponyboy balances the cap. “I know you’re tired of the pictures, but it ain’t time for dress-up.”
Pony turns to walk away, but Darry's hand, familiar in its warmth and calloused texture, wraps firmly around his wrist. No longer is his face painted solely with bewilderment, but it is tainted with the graces of worry and concern. "Glory, would you answer a single question? What are you doin'?"
Pressing his lips together, Ponyboy glances at Sodapop. He, too, is looking at Pony with an expression that borders on fear with hints of diminishing curiosity. Ponyboy holds his hands out in either of their directions. "Give me your hands," he requests. They remain still. "Please."
His brothers glance at each other, a silent conversation passing through a single moment. Slowly, Soda extends his arm until his hand is cradled within Pony's palm. Moments later, Darry follows. Ponyboy grins. He sets their hands up in the gap separating their bodies, allowing them to hover as he runs around and returns to his spot between them. Pony fishes his diploma out from beneath his arm. He holds it beside their hands and guides their fingers around either edge. Once his brothers are holding it tightly, Pony happily wraps his arms around their shoulders. "Smile," he whispers, then shouts, "Go ahead, Two!"
"Got it!" Two-Bit hollers. He fiddles his gaze into the window, squints, and the flash blares from the camera. He throws a happy cheer and turns to Steve excitedly, waiting for the film to spit out of the front.
The moment the camera falls, Darry yanks the diploma into his grasp entirely. He turns on his heel and shoves it into Pony's chest, flattening it against his shirt. "This ain't ours," he spits. "What are you doin'?"
"I didn't get it alone," he argues. Darry's brows furrow. "You guys- you worked just as hard for this as I did."
"What?!" Darry gawks. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing, as though the claim is the single most outrageous thing Ponyboy has ever said in his lifetime. His hands start waving in front of his chest. "No, we didn't. You put in the work, buddy. Soda and I ain't write a single word. That was all you, for four years. This is your degree," he repeats.
Like a mirror, Pony shakes his head right back. He looks between his brothers with a warm smile on his face. "I couldn't have done it without you guys," he declares, throat tightening. He prepared this speech weeks ago, practiced it in low murmurs while getting ready in the morning, and yet, he still can't worm the words from his throat. "If I had anyone else as brothers, then I wouldn't have this. You gave me this." Ponyboy waves his diploma before his face. "You gave me the chance to get this. The motivation to finish it. I wouldn't have it without you, but you don't have anything to show for it. They won't give you credit, but I will."
Pony points to the hate and the robe still donning his brothers' figures. "That's why. So people look at my graduation photos and know who made it possible. 'Cause it wasn't just me."
Sodapop's eyes are shiny by the time he's finished, threatening to boil over with hot tears down his cheeks. "Oh, honey," he mutters. He rushes forward and throws his arms around Ponyboy, reeling them in until he's tugged close to his chest. Soda buries his forehead into his brother's neck. "I couldn't have asked for a better kid brother. You make it so easy to want to work this hard. That's all Dar and I have ever wanted. To make it, for you."
Like a magnet, Darry crashes into their sides. His arms encompass them entirely, and his wide hands cradle each of their heads to his shoulders. "He's right, baby."
It almost hurts to hear. Ponyboy knows how much his brothers have gone through over the years, the ridicule Soda had faced after being known around Tulsa as nothing more than a sorry drop-out, the permanent pain etched into Darry's body that won't ever go away, even long after he stops working, if he ever does. It took Sodapop four years to decide to go back and get a GED. Darry's still stuck hauling roofing for the time being. They barely have any spending money, even with Pony out of the house on scholarship, and yet, his brothers refuse to complain. They stand here, hand on heart, and tell Ponyboy that he's worth it all.
Darry pulls his focus in by pressing his lips into his temple. "I wouldn't trade you two for the world," he declares, hand gripping Pony's shirt with conviction.
"I know," Ponyboy responds, purely on instinct. He swallows and digs his head into the junction between Darry and Soda's chest. "I know, 'cause you didn't."
Darry lets out this sound, some hybrid cross between a sob, a laugh, and a disbelieving huff, before squeezing them tighter. He pats both their shoulders before stepping back. He flicks the pads of his thumbs across his eyes before Ponyboy can tell is any tears were collected there. He smiles, nonetheless.
"Here," Two-Bit interrupts. Pony flinches in surprise. There, his friend stands idly with a developing polaroid. Rather than the three of them smiling, he's captured their hug in every detail. Ponyboy swears that he can see the way Soda's shoulders are shaking and Darry's heart in pounding within the stationary photograph. Above all, they're still sparsely dressed in Ponyboy's ceremonial attire. Two grins. "This one came out the best."
Ponyboy cradles it within his palm as though the slightest breeze will take it away. Beside them, Steve sets a firm hand on Pony's shoulder. He uses the otehr to swing his keys around, the metal jangling together. "I remember there being a good diner joint down the street. How 'bout some milkshakes, hm? On me."
Two jumps up as though someone had shouted 'fire!', so suddenly that he nearly crashes into Sodapop. "I call strawberry!" he hollers, then sets off towards the parking lot.
Sighing, Darry pinches the bridge of his nose. "You don't have to call dibs, Keith. We can all just get what we want," he complains, but Two's already out of range.
Sodapop slings his arm around Pony's shoulders. "Chocolate for you?"
He smiles brighter than he has in years. "Please."