A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Ponyboy

Sure enough, when my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the parking lot outside the gymnasium, I saw the Shepherds' black Rambler American and the blue Chevy pickup parked in the backmost spots. From the number of figures milling about the two cars in the gloom, I figured the entire gang was there.

My heartbeat quickened. Were they about to jump me? Tim had been fairly understanding when I'd explained that I wouldn't be able to participate in any hold-ups for the next couple of weeks, but maybe he'd gotten angry all of the sudden. I figured it was best to talk it out with them all alone, to prove I was no threat, and to prove I was loyal to the gang.

As much as I tried to appear confident as I walked over to them, my palms were sweaty in the pockets of my dress pants. My knees felt shaky and unstable. If they really were going to jump me, I wouldn't stand a chance. One teenager against eleven grown men? The odds were decidedly not in my favor if it came to a fight. 

"Well, if it isn't Ponyboy! 'Bout time you showed up."

I held one hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes from the glare of the car headlights. Tim's voice didn't sound overly more sarcastic than usual. He leaned against the hood of the Rambler, a half-smoked cigar clenched between his teeth.

"What's with the cigar?" I asked, somewhat boldly. None of the figures appeared poised to attack, though. "Is it some sort of special occasion?"

"You bet, buddy." He removed the cigar from his teeth and flung his arms wide. "Don't you see I've got everyone gathered here? We've got a big job tonight and we need your help with it."

I swallowed. "I - I don't know if I can. My brother will kill me."

"Naw, he won't even have to know." Tim's voice was nonchalant as he took another drag from his cigar. "He'll just think you're at the dance all night and won't even question it."

That was probably true, but Betty Anne would almost certainly miss my absence. And she had proven that she was more than willing to snitch on me to Darry before. "What's this job, anyway?"

"Dogger came up with it. It's a doozy," Curly said with a predatory grin.

"We're going to hold up two banks at once. Me and Curly will be the getaway drivers, and then the rest of y'all are going to split up between the two cars, a group of five and a group of four," Tim explained. "The banks are on two opposite ends of town, so the cops will be running crazy trying to figure out what's going on and if more banks are going to be targeted next. It'll turn us a pretty profit, I think."

"Enough to buy a man out of the draft, one could suppose," Curly added.

At the mention of the draft, my apprehension cooled. If that was true, I didn't want to miss this opportunity. In the back of my mind I'd been creating a plan to pay off the draft office to get Darry's name off the list, without him ever knowing. All I'd needed was the cash. Although I'd been saving the money I'd made from the other robberies, I was still short. But with the profit from a bank robbery ... buying Darry out of the draft became a legitimate possibility.

"Now, Pony, we wouldn't want you to be involved in the fray. These bank jobs are a whole different arena than a dinky gas station or grocery store - it's much to dangerous for a kid," Tim went on. "But we'd like you to act as a lookout outside the bank. Keep people from coming in or out, that sort of thing, with an unloaded gun and all that. Just look threatening and tell us if the fuzz are on their way. Get me?"

It wasn't a bad offer, all things considered. In fact, for Tim, it was very generous. I'd get a cut of the profit, without being placed directly in harm's way? It seemed almost too good to be true.

"I think I can do that."

Tim grinned widely and reached up to clap me on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you, little brother."

"Tim, we'd better get going, then," Curly broke in. "If we're going to --"

"Wait one minute. Ponyboy Curtis," an angry voice interrupted from the darkness of the parking lot behind us.

It was the voice I'd been dreading. Annoyed, I spun around to see Betty Anne storming towards me, wearing nothing but her short-sleeved yellow dress against the buffeting wind. She hadn't yelled my name. In fact, she wasn't even really storming - she was much to timid for that. But her anger and hurt reverberated through me with each of her footsteps. Her mascara had smeared beneath her eyes, I noticed as she came to a defiant halt in front of me.

"Betty Anne, what the hell? Get away from here," I hissed at her, before Tim could utter a word of reproach.

"No. I'm not leaving until you leave with me."

Her voice shook, and she visibly shrank away from the hostile stares of the men around us, but she met my gaze with a blazing look in her usually placid brown eyes.

I should've been impressed with her resolve, yet the only emotion that arose in me was scalding frustration. I ignored the guilt that prickled across my skin at the sight of her eyes, shining with tears, and her fists, balled with desperation.

It was time we had a conversation.