A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Twenty-Five - Ponyboy

The robbery went off without a hitch. We hit up a gas station that time. Maybe it was because I was still all fired up from my fight with Betty Anne, but my hand didn't shake at all around the barrel of the unloaded shotgun, and my voice rang out clear and sharp as I ordered the cashier (seedy guy, sparse beard and glasses with greasy lenses) to put the money in the bag. I don't remember much about the robbery itself except for that the checkout counter was a sickly green color with sparkly specks of white.

Curly dropped me off a couple blocks away from my house, blasting a cassette tape by The Who and grinning from ear to ear. He sure wasn't as terrifying as his brother, that was for sure, and much easier to please. We'd only gotten $150 from the gas station, but that was enough for Curly to treat me to a Dairy Queen milkshake afterwards and bid me goodnight with a "Good work today, brother. Get some rest now, y' hear?"

I nodded dutifully and turned away from his car. Shoving my hands into my pockets and hunching my shoulders against the cold, I made my way up the dark street. 

Time to put the mask on again; I had to pretend I'd spent the evening with Betty Anne, lest Darry suspect I'd actually been somewhere else. The thought of pretending to be happy now, putting on a smile and acting all lovey-dovey, caused my stomach to wrench into a tight, painful knot. But I reminded myself that I had to do it, even if it was hard, because otherwise things would be worse for everyone.

I took a deep breath before ascending our front steps.

"I'm home!" I called out as I stepped through the doorway, closing both the screen door and the front door behind me as softly as I could. Knowing Darry, he was probably up waiting for me, but I didn't know if Soda had gone to bed yet. The living room was empty and dark.

"Kitchen. Now," came Darry's voice from the hallway.

His cold tone sent genuine paralysis shooting through my body. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to follow his command. Did he know? No, he couldn't. I'd done everything right.

I shook the nerves away, rolling my shoulders to relieve the tension, and took a resolute step forward. Don't expect the worst until its staring you square in the face, I tried to reassure myself. To be honest, there was a million other things he could be mad at me about; I'd only have to leave a pile of laundry in the bathroom or forget to wash my breakfast dishes and he'd have a cow over it. 

I popped my head into the kitchen. Darry sat at his usual place at the table, arms crossed, across from the wall with the back door. Diana sat next to him, her back to the kitchen sink. She was biting her lips and shooting worried glances at Darry every so often. When she saw me, her eyes immediately darted to the floor. 

"Sit."

Darry pointed to the chair directly across from him. 

I wiped my damp palms on the thighs of my jeans, crossed the kitchen, and sat down.

"What's got your boxers in a bunch?" I asked lightly. My stomach rumbled.

"Don't try to be a jokester with me, boy. You're in some deep shit here," Darry growled. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"

"Is this because I stayed out too late? I'm sorry, I just wanted to be sure Betty Anne -"

"Cut that crap," he snapped. "Betty Anne this, Betty Anne that - you weren't even with her tonight, Ponyboy."

My mouth was intensely dry at this point, and I crossed my arms, mimicking Darry. "I don't know how you would know that, because I definitely was."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We went ice skating," I said through gritted teeth.

"Then why'd she come down here at about - oh - five o'clock, asking where you were at?"