Roses are Red, Greasers are Gold

Chapter 17

Darry P.O.V. 

I found myself struggling to get up at sunlight streamed through my window. 

Even though it was the weekend I wanted to get up now before I had to be woken up later by Two-Bit screaming and banging around the house.

I swear everything in our house is held together by superglue and tape, partially from Two-Bit's carelessness, and partially from the gang rough-housing.

When I walked out into the kitchen I saw Pony already at the table. "Heya Pone, whatcha workin' on?" I asked walking over.

"Math," I heard his voice say. I poured myself a cup of coffee and came over to sit with Pony. "I'll look it over when your done."

He just rolled his eyes and went back to his work. "Your really keeping that sweatshirt on Pony? It's pretty warm in here."

" 's cold," he muttered. That was concerning. It felt like a hot summer afternoon in here, and on first judgement you could say it was the middle of July.

"I scheduled you a doctor's appointment for this morning," I said, getting out the cake.

"I'm fine Darry," Pony said. "I don't know little colt. You've been pretty sick lately and I just wanna make sure everything's alright."

The only sound I got in response was heavy eraser marks against paper.

"Did you eat yet Pony?" I asked from where I was cutting the cake into slices.

"Not hungry." Came his monotone reply.

"Well than I guess I'll have to eat this cake all by myself," I said sitting down.

That got him looking up. "Well I guess I could eat..." he started.

"Yeah, I figured," I said handing him a piece.

Just then Soda came sprinting into the room, somehow out of breath. "Darry! Pony's not in the room! I-I didn't mean—"

"Pepsi relax, Pony's right here," I said gesturing towards a chair, which sure enough had the youngest kid-brother sitting in it.

"Oh—" he said smiling, his cheeks burning. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could borrow a Pony for a minute, unless you guys were in the middle of something..."

Pony looked up to me, his face reminding me of a scared puppy. I nodded and smiled.

"He's all yours," I said, eyeing them as they walked outside together.

Soda P.O.V.

A grabbed Pony's wrist and led him out to the wide steps of our front porch. We both sat down and I looked into his green-grey eyes, thinking of the right words to say.

"Look Pony, I wanted to say sorry for last night. The way I treated you wasn't right, it was just a bad day at work and—and well I want you to know that this isn't your fault. None of it is."

I watched as a fleet of emotions passed his face, each causing a wave of pity to crash on me, his tears the tide pulling me back in.

"Hey baby, now don't you cry." I said, ruffling his hair with my free hand. 

"I'm-m sorry too S-Soda," Pony sobbed into my side. 

"Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for." I said soothingly.

"It's just—" I watched as a hand slipped over the sleeve of his sweatshirt, than with hesitation it fell. "I'm sorry." He finished quietly.

"I am too, baby, I am too."

I looked over and saw a book I brought out and grabbed it.

"Oh, uh Pony. I wanted to show you something." I said, setting the book down on my lap. I blew the dust off of the leather-bound cover and opened the cover.

I felt Pony peer over my shoulder, curiously eyeing the first page.

To my seven babies, stay strong and make me proud.

Love, Mom and Dad

I knew when I read those words Mom and Dad had meant our whole gang.

What would she say knowing it was down to five?

I flipped the page, and what met our eyes was a five-year-old bright faced Darry holding a football.

Pony smiled as I turned the page. This time it was a young Steve and me wearing mom's aprons, the kitchen a mess. In our hands was the ugliest chocolate cake I'd ever seen.

Pony laughed and so did I. "I guess Steve had cake all over his face even as a kid."

The next picture was Dad, Darry, and me all standing around mom's hospital bed holding a baby in her arms.

"Is that me?" Pony asked, pointing to the baby swaddled in mom's arms.

"Sure is, honey." 

I watched as he laughed, the bright expression I know and loved returned to his face.

"Man, I'm glad I'm not bald like that now," he said running his hand through his greased hair.

"You'd make quite the greaser," I laughed.

There was so many pictures in the book. Ones of us playing football, building forts in the living room, playing in the yard.

The big one that got me was a seven-year-old Keith Matthews sitting with a bottle of soda watching Mickey Mouse.

"I guess Two-Bit hasn't changed much," Pony said. It was true. Even his complicated swirled hair was the same through all these years.

Just as we picked up pictures of Johnnycake the beautiful golden sun cast it's rays above the horizon, lighting up Johnny's face in a way that glowed.

Me and Soda sat there together watching the sunrise and for once I didn't feel so alone.