A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Eighteen - Betty

Of course, after what happened, I hardly expected Pony to come to school, for at least a few days. Every time I thought about the situation my heart wrenched itself into a sick knot.

It was all anyone could talk about - almost everyone knew someone whose names had been read in the lottery. I didn't know many people in Tulsa. But I knew two of the names right off the bat.

I found myself thinking of Pony's older brother like he was already dead, even though he wouldn't even be shipped off to boot camp until summer. Nobody wanted to say anything outright, but we were all thinking it: how a lot of guys didn't make it back. After they were sent off to Vietnam. 

As soon as the school bell rang I ran down to my locker. I was carrying twice the amount of papers than usual, because I had gone around to all of Pony's classes during my lunch period to collect his homework for him. I figured I'd try to see him after school, just to see if he wanted any cheering up; at any rate, I wanted to see him. I shivered as I stuffed the abundance of folders and worksheets into my backpack. It was drafty in the hallway.

I shrugged into my sheepskin jacket and slammed my locker shut with a metallic clang. The hallway echoed with hollow conversation as I hurried down the stairs and out the front door of the school. As soon as I stepped outside, the chill winter air blasted across my bare hands, and I thought of what Pony would say when he saw my rough, wind-chapped knuckles. You look cold, baby, mind if I hold those for you? I ground the flats of my molars together at the thought; it didn't comfort me for some reason. 

I decided to walk the few blocks to Pony's house from memory, since I was pretty sure I knew the way. Sure, I'd only walked over there once, but I didn't think I would get lost. Soon, though, I realized I had turned down the wrong street and was a block west of where I was supposed to be. The houses weren't wholly unfamiliar - but then again, most of the neighborhood looked the same. I glanced around uncertainly, staring up and down the street, until I spotted a park with a rusty old jungle gym and a tilted merry-go-round. A little fountain stood empty in the middle of the park, its concrete basin dry and cold. I wondered what it would look like spurting water in the summer or spring.

I could barely make out a figure hunched on top of the jungle gym from where I was standing. I was across the street and a little too far down to see who it was exactly, but my heart leapt as I thought I recognized Ponyboy's familiar slouch.

It wouldn't hurt to go over and see. I was pretty sure I was a little lost anyway - I might as well walk past.

Quickening my steps, I looked both ways before crossing the street in the middle of the block and hurried down the sidewalk. When I reached the park, the boy on the jungle gym seemed to notice me, his head snapping in my direction. Up close I could clearly see it was Ponyboy.

"Betty Anne?" he called out, somewhat incredulously.

"Yeah, it's me!" I tried to make my voice as upbeat as possible. "I was trying to get to your house to see you. I have your homework."

He looked strange, his wind-tossed hair silhouetted against the grey sky, his shoulders hunched over like an old man and his hands stowed deep in the pockets of an old letterman jacket. He hadn't greased his hair back, so pieces blew limply in his eyes, which he kept firmly turned away from me.

 "You're in the wrong direction from my house."

"I got a little lost," I admitted.

"Ah, I see." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and swung down from the top of the jungle gym in one smooth motion. He still didn't smile. "Well, thanks again for bringing my homework. I know I can always count on you."

Something about his words chilled me, like he wasn't really talking about the homework, and I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. I decided I was being too paranoid and attempted to grin.

"So, you wanna show me the right way so I can drop it off at your house? It's a lot of papers so I'd feel bad making you carry it."

"Yeah, sure. But - there's - why don't we sit here and talk for a second?"

He leaned against the iron piping of the jungle gym and stowed his hands back into his pockets. In spite of myself, cold trepidation trickled down the back of my throat and curled in my stomach. I just nodded my head and stood next to him, leaning on the next pipe over. We stood in silence for a second; I watched his steamy breath billow out into the frigid air.

"Anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" I asked. My voice sounded too quiet across the expanse of frost-bitten lawn.

"Well, um - just to see - how you're doing," he said.

"I'm doing fine. How are you doing?" I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

He shrugged, then reached up to caress my cold fingers with his own. "Well, you know, I'm hanging in there. Still in shock. Hanging in there." He heaved a halting sigh.

"That's ... good. How're Diana and Soda?" I asked.

"Much the same as me," he said. "Everyone's keeping to their routines. Diana's going to school, Soda's going to work, but they're exhausting themselves."

"It's good you decided to stay home from school, then."

"Yeah. I just need some time - you know - to think things out. Decide what I'm gonna do next." His jaw was uncharacteristically tight, but he kept rubbing warmth back into my fingers.

"If you need to rant or get anything off your chest, I'm here," I offered in a low voice.

He dropped my hand and shrunk away from my grasp. "I appreciate that. I do. I don't deserve you."

"Aw, shush. Everyone deserves someone to rely on!" I kept my words light, but the fear that had been crescendoing in my chest all day suddenly burst into hot flame.

"Yeah. That's - you, thank you," he murmured.

 He was still talking in a hesitating way, as if he was too distracted to drag along a proper conversation. I wondered why he'd insisted that we stay and talk in the first place.

"Hey, are you really all right?" I asked. "You seem ... I don't know. Not at all like yourself."

He snorts. "Like I said, I'm in shock."

"Just because of the draft? Or is there something else?"

I could feel something simmering, hissing beneath the spitting fire of discontent that had suddenly incited. It was something darker, like explosive black embers that would continue to feed the fire to destruction. And it wasn't an effect of the draft; it was something else entirely. Those embers had been there for months, but I'd just ignored them.

"There's nothing." His voice strengthened. "I promise you, there's nothing else that's worrying me."

I knew he was lying, because I could still feel the embers crumbling and exploding in my ribcage. But I couldn't challenge him directly. "You're sure."

"I'm absolutely sure, Betty Anne."

I stared at his profile for a long moment. He looked so old, ancient, almost; his brow was furrowed with deep, worried lines like an old man. And his eyes - they lay heavy and exhausted within his face, no light reflected in their dark brown depths. He looked so, so tired.

And I knew he was lying. I couldn't fathom why. But I knew he was. That's when my heart first started to break. 

"L-like I said, I'm here for you," I repeated lamely.

"I know. And like I said -" His lips spasmed as he flashed me a tight grin. "I don't deserve you."

The jungle gym loomed up behind us like the skeleton of a wizened giant.