A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

When the dandelion is blown - Ponyboy

Winter thawed into a lonely spring, followed by the even lonelier balmy breezes of early summer. 

For two weeks after the robberies the night of the dance, Darry and Soda hardly spoke a word to me. They were furious, and with good reason: we'd gotten busted. The cops had managed to catch up with us, but before it could come to a shootout, Tim told us all to just surrender ourselves up - everyone's a coward in the end, I guess. The cops were lenient with me and only held me for six hours without filing any charges, since I had been cooperative and since, one cop said, "I was such a young kid and all, with a bright future." Tim and Curly, and the rest of the adults, ended up bearing the brunt of the charges. Still, it wasn't a fun call to make, to tell Darry I was going to be spending the night in a jail cell. When he picked me up, his face was livid.

Diana was disappointed in me too, I could tell, although she was much more sympathetic than Darry was. I think she could tell something else was going on that was making me so low. She asked me only once if Betty Anne would be coming around again, and when I hardly could choke out a "no," she knew. She patted my hand and understood.

Thank god for Bryon. If everyone else had drifted away from me, at least he was still there. In the spring, once the cross country season had begun, I could always count on him to be waiting at the finish line for me, perhaps holding a bottle of water or an apple, standing by without saying a word as I hunched over to catch my breath and accepted the nourishment from him gratefully. Neither of us had to say much. 

On April 27th, 1970, a Monday, I skipped school to send Darry and Steve off to boot camp. The whole gang showed up at 7 AM sharp at the bus terminal to bid them goodbye, even Two-Bit, who had to miss the early morning cartoons. I was proud of myself for keeping it together, for the most part, at least until Darry wrapped me in a strong hug.

"Take care of Soda and Diana for me, would you Pony?" he muttered, his voice gruff from suppressing his tears.

I merely nodded and hugged my big brother tighter.

"And don't worry. I'll send you a lot of letters from the base in South Carolina."

We did write a lot of letters back and forth, or at least Diana wrote them as Soda and I dictated. The house felt large and empty without Darry; for the first time in my life, I had my own room, since Soda moved into the one Darry had vacated. Oftentimes, I would get home from school and Soda would be working the evening shift. Being alone in the house drove me so crazy I added an evening run to my schedule in addition to my morning one just to escape. The house felt like a museum - sealed off, empty, and devoid of life, just a palimpsest of what it had used to be.

On May 16th, 1970, I competed in the state meet for cross country. Maybe it was thanks to all the extra running I was doing, but the 5000m flew by, and I ended up placing 2nd overall. Not the first place finish I had been hoping for, but my performance was enough to catch the attention of a college scout from the University of Oklahoma. He caught my arm after the race, an intrigued gleam in his eye.

"Hey, son, have you committed to a college yet?"

"No, sir," I said, shaking my head.

"What! You're a hell of a runner. You're telling me no other school has snatched you up yet?" he chuckled.

"No, sir," I repeated. A dull spark of excitement flamed to life in my chest, a foreign sensation.

"Well, let me tell you what, son, why don't we go out for coffee?" The scout clapped my shoulder in a fatherly way. "I'd like to offer you a place in our freshman class, on scholarship. We need talented runners like you on our team."

What followed was the coffee that changed my life. I sat down later that night to write a letter to Darry telling him all about it: how I'd been offered a spot at the University of Oklahoma on a full-ride scholarship, provided I sent the school a copy of my high school transcript and successfully graduated at the end of the month. It seemed almost too good to be true - that was all I had to do?! - and for the first time in a long time, I felt excited for something. 

I graduated on May 27th, 1970, ranking twenty-first in of my class of three hundred. Even though Darry couldn't be there, I knew he was proud of me for making it; I saw Diana openly sobbing in the fifth row, much to my embarrassment, and Soda gave me a tight hug once the ceremony was over.

I was prouder of myself than anyone could ever say.

In spite of losing two of my best friends during my freshman year, I had graduated. 

In spite of having to testify at two murder trials, I had graduated.

In spite of the Socs making my life a living hell, I had graduated.

In spite of learning that Soda wasn't my blood brother, I had graduated.

In spite of watching Darry fall to his seeming death, I had graduated.

In spite of being arrested for the stupid mistake of trusting the Shepherd brothers, I had graduated.

In spite of everything that had happened to me over four years, I had graduated.

But despite all of these facts, despite having trekked to hell and back and having come out a better man in the end, despite learning my lesson, I couldn't ignore that it had been too little too late. I had lost Betty Anne. And after graduation, I never saw her again.