A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Eleven - Ponyboy

On Saturday morning, the gang gathered at our house bright and early for our customary breakfast of Darry's chocolate cake. 

Diana had slept over the night before, so she helped Darry set the table and made some lemonade out of the powder kit from the grocery store. As usual, Two-Bit was the first to arrive. He always made sure he got to the house in time for the Saturday morning cartoons to start airing at eight, since he didn't have a TV at his house. He popped his head into the kitchen to toss out a hello first, then settled in front of the television. 

Steve ambled by not long after him, but by nine thirty we were still waiting for Bryon. It made sense, though. Bryon actually had a family to schmuck out his schedule with, so he often had to split time between the gang and helping his mother around the house. Saturday mornings were especially brutal; like any mother, she had a penchant for enforcing Saturday morning cleaning, in which Bryon wasn't allowed to leave the house until it was spotless. 

"Why don't we get started eating?" Steve suggested. He was laying long ways on the couch, one eye on the television. I sat on the end of the couch, near his feet. "I'm starved."

"Yeah, Bryon won't be around any time soon," I added pointedly. My own stomach growled to emphasize my point.

Darry ducked out of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning. "I'm too tired yet to be hungry," he said. "Give him a few more minutes, then we can start eating."

"You're tired? It's nine thirty!" 

"Yeah, well - late night." He covered his mouth with his hand. 

"Don't be making false innuendos, Darrel Curtis," Diana protested from the kitchen. "You weren't up that late!"

Two-Bit snickered.

"Where's Soda, by the way?" Steve interjected quickly, obviously wanting to change the subject. He must've still been a little jealous. 

"Still sleeping, probably." I jutted my chin out at our bedroom door. "You know how he is. Not a morning guy."

"Someone oughta wake him up. He's got company over!"

"Who says we got company? It's just you lot," I grinned.

Steve kicked me, not too hard, on my thigh. I winced and scooched as far away from him as the small couch would allow. 

"Such bad hospitality," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"Well, you didn't have to kick me! I'm an athlete," I whined, "and I gotta be careful about injuries!"

In the doorway, Darry rolled his eyes.

"Hey, what's the date today?" Two-Bit asked suddenly, still glued to his Tom and Jerry cartoon.

"October 7th or 8th, I think?" Steve guessed. "I don't know. Ask the boy in school." He nudged me with his foot again.

"It's the 8th."

"A little under two months until the draft lottery," Two commented darkly.

The atmosphere sobered up at once, and that sickly sour feeling congealed in my gut again. I suddenly felt very young in comparison with the three men standing around me.

"Now why'd you go on and bring that up?" Darry muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I dunno." Two-Bit's eyes tracked the brown cartoon mouse scampering across the TV screen. "Seems like whenever I think about time now, it's in terms of the draft. Know what I mean?"

"Sure."

"You put your name in, Two?" I asked.

"Sure did," he replied. "I agree with Darry. It's too much hassle to have to worry about getting in trouble with the fuzz. I put my name in right when I turned eighteen, like you're supposed to do." He turned to give Steve a pointed look.