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Life with the Curtises was good—no, better than that. It was genuinely wonderful, and Ponyboy didn’t think he could have possibly gotten more lucky with his foster placement. He got to go to sleep with Soda guarding his dreams and wake up to Darry messing with his hair. He had clothes and food and a roof over his head. He had friends—real, genuine connections with people that truly cared about him in their own unique ways. But all that didn't mean his new life was easy. In fact, it was pretty far from it.
The days whittled down until it was suddenly the night before. His bag was packed, he had a clean outfit picked out, all the paperwork was done, and yet he still didn’t feel ready. He’d made himself a lunch and everything that was ready to be chucked into a metal tin come morning, but still, he didn’t feel ready. Nothing could make him feel ready for this.
It wasn’t like it was his first day of high school or anything—it was just his first day at this high school. Glory, he hadn’t felt this nervous since his first meeting with Darry and Sodapop.
He let out a short sigh, making Soda shift beside him. Maybe he hadn’t been as asleep as Ponyboy had initially thought.
“It’s gonna be okay, honey,” Soda murmured sleepily. “You’re gonna be great.” Then his breathing evened out again, and Pony made a mental note not to be so damn obvious about his brooding.
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He still wasn’t ready when he woke up the next morning, nor was he ready when Darry said “Are you ready to go?” and he replied “I’m ready!” like a goddamn liar. But he was as ready as he was ever going to get, so he decided to just roll with it. It wasn’t like he’d be allowed to stay home, anyway. Darry let him get away with a lot, but something like that would be pushing way past the line. He didn’t have to do any testing to know that.
Getting into the truck felt like buckling himself into his very own electric chair. He was silent the whole ride there. Normally, he’d be walking, but Darry and Soda wanted to make sure he’d be sent off nicely on his first day.
The large lettering of Will Rogers High School loomed in the distance. As the truck inched closer to the front doors, he felt more and more like throwing up. Maybe he could jump out the window and run all the way back to his bed, where he could hide under the covers until the sun went down and everything was closed.
“Alright, Ponyboy. Have a good day. Don’t forget to check in with Two-Bit at lunch. He’ll help you find your afternoon classes.”
He didn’t respond.
“Ponyboy . . . ”
“I don’t wanna go,” Pony whispered, doing everything in his power to hide his burning face. “I don’t wanna leave here.”
Darry put a hand on his knee and looked at him with soft eyes.
“Kiddo, it’s just a school day, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“I don’t wanna leave . . .”
Darry’s brows pulled together in a look he’d learned to read as concern. “Pony, you’re gonna come back. You’ll only be gone a few hours.”
He shook his head, unable to force any more words out of his clamped-up throat. He didn’t want to leave—not even if he was positive he’d be coming back (which, by the way, he was).
“Johnny’s gonna be with you the whole time,” Darry tried again. “C’mon, kid, I know you’re scared, but you need to go to school, and I need to go to work.”
Guilt flashed through Ponyboy’s stomach. Working was the only way for Darry to keep their family together; he couldn’t let his own selfishness put that in jeopardy. Silently, he jerked his head up and down in some approximation of a nod, and even though he was most certainly scared shitless, the way his eldest brother’s shoulders relaxed a little immediately made his decision almost worth it.
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He regretted everything.
He should’ve faked being sick. He should’ve lied and said he’d skipped four grades instead of one. He should’ve hidden out in the bushes again (or maybe not. That hadn’t worked out quite so well the last time he tried it). School was loud and it made his head hurt. Everyone looked at him funny and it made his head hurt. He was behind in almost every class and god, his head hurt.
Where could he go to just take a damn break? Where was the library?
By the time Ponyboy found his way inside, it was more than halfway through lunchtime. It was blessedly quiet; no one was there except for a girl with long red hair shelving books. She looked up as he walked in.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Pony quickly shook his head. “I’m just looking around.” The girl nodded, but her green eyes seemed like they were searching for something more in his answer. For some reason, he didn’t mind that she was examining him—at least, not as much as he should have. Maybe this was someone who felt the same way he did.
“I needed to go somewhere quiet,” he admitted. “I’m new here, an’ I just—it’s loud, is all. I won’t bother you, ma’am.”
The girl giggled. “Please. You can call my mother ma’am, but I go by Cherry.”
“Ponyboy,” he replied, sticking out his hand. “Ponyboy Curtis.” He felt a thrill in his stomach when he used that name for himself. It was the first time he’d ever introduced himself like that—an action as impulsive as it was genuine. He was a Curtis, wasn’t he?
But what about that other surname? The one he’d been born with?
“Oh, you’re the new Curtis kid! I would’ve thought you were related to those two, you and Sodapop look so similar—and your names, of course . . .” Cherry trailed off, then blinked and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Before either of them could say more, the library door opened again, and one Johnny Cade came rushing in.
“That’s my friend,” Pony said, suddenly feeling shy. “I’d better go.”
Cherry smiled. “I’ll see you around, Ponyboy.”
“See you.”
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Ponyboy’s only solace for the next few hours was that Johnny was in one of his afternoon classes. He was able to sit down next to him and at least pretend he didn’t feel like passing out from fear. Even to him, it seemed overdramatic, but knowing that didn’t stop him from feeling that way. He wished it would. He really, really wished it would. But it didn’t, so he just kept his head down and doodled over his math problems. He knew he’d need to actually do them at some point, but right now he could barely breathe; it was probably best to take this whole school thing one step at a time.
Even if the first step was as pathetic as simply being there.
But that ain’t pathetic, a suspiciously Soda-like voice whispered in his brain. Of course you’re nervous! It’s only natural to be.
It’s a lot of change for such a short time, Darry’s voice agreed, and Pony could almost see him nodding his head seriously. We can go over the math problems at home. Just try your best today, and maybe take some notes if you can. It’ll help you later.
Notes. He could do that. He didn’t need to understand anything to copy it down.
That seemed like a pretty good step two to him, so he flipped to the first page of his new notebook as quietly as he could and started to write down whatever he could actually pick up between his racing thoughts and the teacher’s monotone voice.
Johnny slipped him a note. Doing ok? it read. Yeah, Pony scribbled back, just nervous. Everything’s so new and there’s lots of stuff to take in.
Just as he was about to pass the note back, his teacher slapped a ruler down on their desk.
“We don’t pass notes in my class, Mister Curtis. It’s your first day, so I’ll cut you some slack—But honestly, Cade, you ought to have known better,” he reprimanded.
“Sorry, sir,” Pony and Johnny said together. For a moment there, Ponyboy thought his friend genuinely felt guilty for passing that note—but the second he was out of view of their teacher, he flashed Pony a rare grin.
Mister Curtis.
That was twice in one day, now.
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“She’s a Soc, Pony! Ain’t somebody told ya what that means?”
“But there are Socs in my classes, and no one cares when I talk to them! I even got paired with one for partner work today and no one batted an eye!”
“Cherry’s different,” Steve argued, pushing open the front door to the school and deliberately holding it for Pony, but not Two-Bit.
“How?” Ponyboy protested.
“You know Bob Sheldon? That’s his girlfriend,” Two hissed, sending a pointed glare at Steve. “You don’t wanna mess around with her.”
Bob Sheldon? The same one who’d cut up Johnny’s face with his class rings just for kicks? But she had seemed so nice . . .
“It don’t matter how nice to you she was,” Steve said, seemingly reading his mind. “For us, a Soc always spells trouble.”
Pony looked at the ground.
“Nothin’ to be ashamed about,” Two told him. “Ya didn’t know. Now ya do.”
That wasn’t quite what had been bothering him, but he supposed it was a good enough guess.
The rest of the day went fine—no one bothered him, his classes were at least somewhat interesting, and none of the gang seemed to be too worried about him either. When school was over with, they all walked back to his house together. Darry and Soda weren’t home yet, but that wasn’t surprising, since neither of their jobs would usually let out this early in the day. After an hour or two of shooting the breeze, everyone slowly filtered out, leaving Ponyboy alone in the house.
So much had happened today, but he couldn’t stop thinking about one name, and it wasn’t Cherry Valance.
It was Ponyboy Curtis.
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Darry and Soda kept dinner low-key, which he was more than thankful for. It had been a stressful day and Pony wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet, so he contented himself with listening to his brothers’ work stories instead. By the time they’d all finished eating, he was more than ready to turn in early, but when he made it to his bed he suddenly found himself completely wired.
Soda came in only a few minutes later.
“Long day?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’ve been that nervous for a first day a’ school since I was in kindergarten,” Pony admitted.
“I bet you were great.”
“I met a Soc. She said we looked alike.”
“Yeah? Would I know her?”
Pony shrugged.
“Was she pretty?” Soda’s voice held its familiar teasing lilt. Pony just shrugged again.
“ . . . not your type, huh? That’s alright, honey. There’s plenty a’ fish in the sea.” At this point, they both knew he wasn’t being serious, just throwing out something to kill the quiet.
“I introduced myself with your last name,” he whispered into the darkness. Soda didn’t move or make a sound, but Ponyboy knew he’d heard him. “It was weird. I don’t know why I did it. It felt right and wrong at the same time.”
“You know you don’t have to be a Curtis if you don’t want to, honey. You’re still a member of this family,” Soda responded, pulling the covers up to his little brother’s chin.
“But I do want to. I just . . . I want to keep my parents’ name too.”
Soda shrugged. “Then use both.”
“Is it really that simple?” Pony asked before he could stop himself.
“It can be,” he replied, easy as ever.
. . . huh.
Ponyboy Taylor-Curtis did have a bit of a ring to it, didn’t it?
“You’re overthinking things again.”
“You don’t do that?” Pony asked.
Now it was Soda’s turn to shrug. “Not really. It must just be a side effect of you being so brainy,” he teased, messing up Ponyboy’s hair and pulling a giggle out of him. “Go to sleep, honey. You can always think more tomorrow.”
“I will. Night, Soda.”
“Night, Pony. Sleep well.”
I love you, he almost said before catching himself. He wasn’t quite ready for that—Not yet.
But he had a feeling he would be one day.