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It’s the night after the rumble—Johnny and Dally are both gone. And Soda’s wondering how he and his brothers were all able to survive the week as the three of them trudge home through the dark streets of Tulsa. Darry’s a few steps behind him, carrying Pony back in his arms. The poor kid collapsed soon after they had found Dally’s body—and as much as they wanted to help take care of their fallen friend themselves, there wasn’t much left for them to do. But Pony still needed them.
So in their shock and grief, they make the slow trek back home, taking comfort in knowing Steve and Two-Bit are doing all they can for Dally now. Soda steals a glance back at his brothers before saying, “Think we should take him to the doctor tomorrow?”
Darry’s silent for a moment. And Soda already felt bad asking, knowing it wasn’t exactly something they could afford at the moment, but more concerned for their baby brother than anything else. Then he hears Darry sigh and say, “Yeah, maybe… We’ll check him out tonight and see how he’s doin’ in the morning first.”
Soda nods silently. He wishes he could hear whatever Darry’s thinking right now—though he’s sure it’s nothing good. But it’s that part of Soda that’s still a kid, that still remembers the days before their parents died, when his big brother was much happier and talked a whole lot more. When he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
These days, Soda talks twice as much as he used to and twice as loud, trying to fill the space the now sullen and reserved Darry has left. Deep down, Soda feels a twinge of guilt for how he’s come to view his brother. He knows it ain’t his fault—and he doesn’t love him any less. But at the end of the day Soda is still just a kid who misses his big brother.
When they get home, Darry lays Pony down in his and Soda’s bed and gets to work cleaning the cuts and blood from his tired, battered body. Soda sits beside them both, running his hands through Pony’s sweat-soaked, bleach-blonde hair that still looks ridiculous on him.
“He looks so little,” Soda whispers, mainly to himself, but also just a bit hopeful that it’ll spark a real conversation with Darry.
“He is little,” Darry responds, gently scrubbing the dirt and grime from Pony’s face. He furrows his brows, “Maybe too little… I think he lost weight.”
Soda shrugs, “Doubt he’s had enough to eat this last week.”
Darry nods, falling silent again. Soda’s stomach sinks. He looks down, still running his fingers through Pony’s hair, “Could you do me a favor, Dar?”
His brother looks up and Soda meets his gaze, “Just go easy on him, please? He’s trying.”
Darry looks at him with an unreadable expression that makes Soda feel almost bad. He knows how guilty Darry’s felt since the night Pony ran away. He’s about to backtrack—tell Darry to just forget he said anything, when his brother sighs and looks away, “I’m not startin’ a fight with him, Sodapop. Not over this. This ain’t on him.”
Soda watches with furrowed brows as Darry rubs his thumb along Pony’s cheek before leaning down to press a kiss on his forehead.
Without another word, Darry stands, gathers the towels and first-aid kit and makes for the door. Just before he leaves, he whispers a sad, “Goodnight, little buddies.”
And with the click of the door shutting, it’s just Pony and Soda left in their little room. That younger part of Soda is nudging him once again, telling him to follow after Darry. To apologize for what he said—because he knows better now. This week taught him a lot of things, but more than anything else, it taught him that every way Darry’s changed in the last few months isn’t out of resentment but from the overwhelming grief and worry he feels every day for their family.
But like Darry, Soda is also a big brother with a job to do. So he stays in bed with Pony curled up beside him, his head in Soda’s lap, and he strokes the kid’s hair while he thinks back on this week from hell. His poor baby brother got real banged up—between nearly drowning, the fire, and now the rumble, Soda’s just glad he’s still alive. And, sure, he misses Dally and Johnny something awful, but if anything had happened to Pony—well Soda’s just not sure he could’ve survived that.
Darry had told him earlier that the kid most definitely has a concussion; now Soda’s willing to bet that he’s coming down with something, too. And though he’s plenty worried about Ponyboy, his mind still wanders back to the brief conversation he’d just shared with Darry, and suddenly Soda’s wondering how his brother always manages to keep himself so stoic and composed.
A loud crash echoes from down the hall then, startling Soda from his thoughts. Now the Curtis brothers are no strangers to creaks and moans in their old house, but this, Soda knew, was something different. It was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end—because it came from Darry’s room.
Slowly and gently, so as not to wake Pony, Soda slips off the bed and tiptoes out into the hall. He walks down the dark hallway the short distance to Darry’s room—the room which had once belonged to their parents, and finds the door slightly agape, with only a soft light from one of the bedside lamps streaming out into the hall.
Soda just barely peaks his head into the room and his stomach drops when he finds Darry hunched over on the edge of the bed, his back to the door and shoulders trembling. There’s a quiet, wretched sound that he belatedly recognizes as someone crying.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Soda hears his big brother cry. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect him.”
Soda’s stomach lurches at the words coming from Darry’s mouth. He pushes the door open and steps inside, “Darry?”
The room falls quiet, Darry’s lifting his head, but not quite turning to face his brother. Soda kneels on the bed and crawls over to where Darry sits, putting his hands on his brother’s shoulder and massaging the tension away—just like he’s done a hundred times after Darry’s long, tireless shifts at work. He spots a fallen picture frame on the floor next to them, the glass scattered all around.
“Dar, what’s goin’ on? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, Sodapop, I’m fine—shouldn’t you be with Pony?”
“He’s sleepin’, and so should you,” Soda answers. He stills his hands and rests his chin on Darry’s shoulder, looking down at what his brother holds in his lap. It’s a picture of their Mother—her hair is cut just above her shoulders, and there’s the slightest roundness in her belly that tells him she was pregnant with one of them.
It’s undated, but Soda knows it must be Pony. Darry told him once that their Mama used to have the most beautiful long hair, but cut it short soon after having Soda. She said it made her feel free— like she was lighter than air.
Soda grins at the memory of their wild Mother, all laughter and carefree joy. While Darry had always been the spitting image of their father, Sodapop had their mother’s everything; her looks, her energy, her heart. She used to call Soda her ‘mini me.’ And then Pony came along—the perfect blend of them both. Soda’s heart stung knowing Pony had the least memories with their parents, while he and Darrel could still see them both anytime they looked at him.
“She’d be real proud of you, you know?” Soda says, squeezing Darry’s shoulders.
Darry sighs, “Thanks, little buddy.”
Soda can hear the tremor in his voice, and he knows he doesn’t believe him.
“She is,” he insists. “Look at all you’ve done for us.”
Darry shakes his head, “I messed up, Soda. I let you both down—I let them down. I hurt Pony, and I failed him, and I—I couldn’t protect her baby. She and Dad must be rollin’ in their graves right now…”
“Don’t say that, Darrel,” Soda protests, voice firm. There’s an anger seeping into his words that even he is unfamiliar with. But it’s not an anger tinged with hate, it’s another feeling Soda knows all too well. “You didn’t fail anyone. You know this ain’t the life they wanted for you—for any of us! Life dealt us a shitty hand, big brother, and, yeah, they should be here, but they ain’t. You are.”
He pulls Darry back to look at him, shifting so they’re eye to eye. “You didn’t have to stick around and give up your life for us, but you did. And we are closer and stronger together than we’ve ever been. That’s all ‘cause of you, Dar. Can’t you see?”
“C’mon, Soda, of course I stuck around—I wasn’t gonna let you boys go, not after—”
“And that’s what I’m saying, Darrel! But you’re still a kid, too. You’re not gonna get it right all the time.”
Darry looks back down at the picture in his hands. He rubs his thumb over his Mother’s face. Soda holds his hand against the back of Darry’s neck and looks with him.
They sit with the silence for a moment—Soda hopes maybe Darry will nod his head, come to his senses, and they’ll both be able to get a semi-decent night’s sleep. But Soda also knows his brother a little too well. And he can practically see the gears still turning in Superman’s head, so he sighs and sits properly beside his brother on the edge of the bed. He nudges him once with his shoulder and says, “Do you remember when I accidentally ran over Dad’s azalea bush with the old lawnmower?”
Darry breathes out a startled laugh at the memory and covers his mouth with his hand, “Glory, he was so mad at you for that—thought for sure he was gonna blow a fuse or somethin’.”
They laugh softly together and Soda nods, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. It was true—that was probably the most mad Soda can recall ever seeing their dad. Soda was only ten at the time, so he half expected to see steam billowing out from Darrel Sr’s head.
“I remember him charging into the backyard, hollerin’ his fool head off, and I just took off running into the house and I hid in my room till he cooled down.”
Which took Mr. Curtis about all day and night to finally do.
“What happened after that?” Darry asks in a small voice, so unlike him Soda half wonders if Pony might have snuck in the room while he was talking.
He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he looks back at his brother’s downturned face and says, “Nothin’.”
Darry whips his head to look at Soda, “Huh?”
Soda shrugs, “He never said nothin’ to me—and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna bring it up to him. I knew he loved that bush, took a whole lotta pride in it… and I think he knew that I was young, and reckless, and maybe a little overly excited after he taught me how to ride the lawnmower, and… we just never said a damn thing about it.”
“Never?”
“Nope, never.”
“But you and Dad—”
“Yeah, we were fine by the next day. I mean, maybe things were a little tense for a while, but—” Soda glances sideways at his brother, bumping their shoulders again, “he sure loved us a whole lot. And even though I knew he was mad, I never doubted that for a second. I’m sure he knew how sorry I was without me havin’ to say anything. So we just picked up the pieces and moved on.”
Darry’s looking at him now like he’s grown another head, and Soda laughs just slightly at the bewilderment on his face.
“I’m tryna say that, y’know, it’s easy now to look back and think Mom and Dad had it all figured out, but… they didn’t. They were figurin’ it out with us, rollin’ with the punches, and lovin’ us above all else. Cause that’s really all we can do.”
A small smile’s broken out on Darry’s face that warms Soda’s heart to the touch. Darry wraps an arm around Soda’s shoulders, pulling him close and ruffling his hair, “When’d you get so wise, little buddy?”
“Just one of my many gifts!” Soda laughs.
They fall back into the silence, once again, listening to the crickets and spring peepers outside, the wind rustling the trees and bushes.
“It ain’t easy, doin’ all this,” Darry sighs.
Soda nods, “I know… but you ain’t doin’ it all alone.”
“I know,” he agrees. He leans his head down, removing his arm from Soda’s shoulder so he can rub the sleep from his eyes. “Not sure how we’re gonna get through all this, though…”
Soda pauses. He isn’t too sure either. They were all a mess after their parents died, but losing both Johnny and Dally so suddenly was sure to come with a whole new wave of troubles and grief for the brothers. Ponyboy especially. And Soda was confident Darrel was thinking the same thing.
“Let’s just take it one day at a time, alright?”
Darry nods, looking like he wants to say more, but a tired voice interrupts from the doorway before he can get a word in.
“Soda?”
The two brothers turn around to find Pony standing just outside the room, using his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, and looking a lot like Darry had a moment ago.
“Hey, honey, you alright?” Soda asks, shifting around to face him better.
Pony doesn’t answer him, instead asking “What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothin’,” Darry says quickly before Soda has a chance to respond. “You okay, baby? You have a nightmare?”
He nods hesitantly, stepping further into the room. Darry meets him halfway, running his hand through the kid’s hair before resting it on his forehead. He sighs and holds Pony’s cheek in his hand, “You’re burning up, baby. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”
He turns to Soda, “Go take him back to your room—I’ll be in to check on you both in a minute, alright?”
Soda hesitates, “Dar…”
“I’m okay, Pepsi-Cola. Just give me a second.”
Soda searches Darry’s eyes for any sign he might be lying, but then a small smile spreads across his brother’s face and he knows it’s honest. So Soda nods his head. He walks over and slings an arm around Pony, guiding them back to their room and helping Pony back into bed. Climbing in beside him, Soda tugs Pony closer and helps him lay down.
“Is Darry okay?” his little brother asks.
Soda looks down and finds Pony’s tired doe eyes staring up at him in concern. Something warms Soda’s heart, then—knowing, deep down, that regardless of all the past anger and upset, his brothers are going to be okay.
“‘Course he’s okay, honey,” Soda says. “He’s got us, don’t he?”
Pony smiles softly at that, snuggling in closer and nestling his head against Soda’s side.
When Darry finally comes into the room, he’s carrying a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in the palm of the other. He hands the glass to Pony and flips his hand over, saying, “Here.”
Pony holds out his other hand and Darry drops an aspirin into his palm.
“Take that.”
Pony tiredly does as he’s told, choking back the pill and spilling dribbles of water down his chin. Soda huffs a small laugh at his kid brother’s mess before helping him to lay back down. Darry sits at the edge of the bed, pressing the cool towel to Pony’s head. Their brother hums in content and sinks deeper into the mattress.
“Feels good, huh, Pone?” Soda laughs, brushing his hair.
“Mhm,” Pony responds, his eyes slipping shut.
Darry chuckles, holding the towel gently against his brother’s head for another minute. He sighs, “Alright, little man, you get back to sleep now, ya hear?”
He goes to stand, but a hand shoots out before he can even straighten his legs and grips onto the front of his shirt. He looks down and find’s Pony staring up at him.
“Stay?” the kid pleads with wide eyes.
Darry scrunches his face in concern, and stutters, “I-I don’t know, kiddo—”
Soda rolls his eyes, “Darrel, get in the damn bed.”
Darry huffs a laugh as his kid brothers scoot over to give him room and climbs up next to Pony. As soon as he’s laying down, his little brother instantly curls into his side, his fingers still tangled in his shirt.
Smiling down at him, Darry holds Pony close and whispers, “Go to sleep now, little budy.”
“M’kay… love you guys,” he mumbles into Darry’s chest.
His brothers chuckle under their breaths and Darry says, his voice thick, “We love you, too, baby.”
“So much,” Soda adds, throwing his arm around Ponyboy’s stomach and curling around his little brother.
It doesn’t take long after that for Pony’s breathing to even back out and he’s fast asleep. Soda looks up at his older brother and finds him still wide awake, watching Pony with big, sad eyes. He follows his gaze back down to their sleeping brother and asks quietly, “You wanna tell me what happened tonight?”
Darry grumbled under his breath, “It’s late, Sodapop, go to sleep.”
Soda looks up again and meets Darry’s eyes. With a stern gaze and firm voice he says, “I told you, Darrel, I can’t lose my big brother.”
Darry chews on the inside of his cheek—a nervous tick he’s had for as long as Soda can remember. He shakes his head and whispers, “I really thought we lost him… I’m always scared half to death that somethin’s gonna happen to him, Soda. And I told him I didn’t want him fighting in the rumble, but I knew I couldn’t stop him, so when he fainted tonight, I—I don’t know, it’s like I had tunnel vision, or somethin’. Like, I couldn’t think straight until I knew for sure he was safe in bed with you, and when I got back to my room and I saw that old photo of Mom…”
He trails off, running his fingers through Pony’s hair. Soda holds his breath. He hasn’t a clue what to say.
“It sorta felt like she had been waiting for me.”
“Maybe she was,” Soda whispers.
“Sometimes I just really wish I could ask her what to do…”
Soda nods, staring up at the dark ceiling. He knows exactly what Darry means. He’s thought the same thing time and time again—he wishes he could have at least one last conversation with her, ask her all the questions he never got around to before she died. He wishes he could apologize to his Dad for running over the azaleas all those years ago, even though he knows he’d just laugh and tell him it didn’t matter none.
But that’s not an option. So instead Soda reaches further over Pony’s stomach and find’s Darry’s hand, holding it in his own. Darry gives him a squeeze and smiles, though there’s still pain in his eyes. Soda doesn’t have all the answers, and neither does Darry. But that’s okay. They’ve still got each other.
“I love you, big brother.”
“I love you too, little buddy… thank you.”