Front Lines | Sodapop Curtis

02

    I drove home that night feeling sick to my stomach.

    The feeling was lessened when I let my mind wander, but that never did seem to last too long. My mind always wanted to go back to the draft. To the war.

    I looked out the car window, my elbow resting on the opening of the window as the breeze gently kissed my face. The sun had just gone down, so the sky wasn't too dark just yet. It was kinda purple, with little hints of red on the horizon that would be gone in a few minutes.

    I figured that since I got out of the shop early that I'd be the first one home, but as I pulled into the driveway, I saw the small glint of Darry's old Ford pickup in the carport.

    My hands had been gripping the steering wheel so hard that when I let go to open the door, my knuckles felt about as tight as a rubber band. I slammed the door a little louder than I should have, causing a few of the neighbor's dogs to start barking.

    "Oh, hush up..." I muttered to myself, still feeling a little sick.

     I opened the back door and walked in, imagining I would see Darry cooking supper and Ponyboy doing his homework at the kitchen table, but when I rounded the corner, they were both in sitting in the living room watching the television.

    "Hey, Soda." Darry grumbled. "How was work."

    I barely heard him as I walked up behind the couch, eyes glued to the TV, watching men dressed in sharp-lookin' suits talk with papers in their hands.

    "Soda." He asked again, annoyed. "I asked you a question..."

     I looked at my older brother, my thoughts loud and scattered as I combed my mind for what he'd inquired.

    "What?" I swallowed.

    "How was work..." Darry's eyes narrowed a little bit.

    "Are you alright, Soda?" Pony chimed in.

    "Work was fine..." I sat down at the end of the couch and tried to not focus on how nauseous I felt. "We had a Chevy that needed some repairs but other than that..."

    "Learn anything?" Darry picked at something in between his nails. "Did Steve finally show up for once?"

   It bothered me that he was askin' so many questions. I could hardly focus as it was, and him asking 'bout everything that came into his head got on my nerves.

    And then I remembered that's what he does when he's starting to get nervous.

   "Yeah, Steve showed." I mumbled, leaning back into the couch. "And there ain't much to learn from a Chevy..."

   "Oh, okay..." He grinned. "Mr. wise guy over here knows his stuff, don't he, Pony."

    I smiled a little, looking down at my jeans and noticing how dark the grease-stains were in the darkness of the living room.

    "Yeah," Pony chuckled, a little uncomfortably. "When's that guy supposed to be comin' on here?"

    I looked over at Darry, who's face looked so much older when shadowed in the dim light. It was striking his resemblance to dad, especially when he laughed...

    But it was even more startling when Darry tried to make everything seem alright when it really wasn't...just like dad did.

    And sometimes that got to me more than what he was gonna say next.

   "Seven." He answered. "If you're hungry there's some stuff for sandwiches in the icebox."

    "Nah, I ain't hungry. Me and Two-Bit went and ate a bite down at Jack's earlier." He stood up. "But I'm on my way to get a coke if ya'll want anything."

    I was watching a commercial for an oatmeal company, not realizing that Pony was hinting towards me.

   "Soda." Darry said. "You want anything to drink? Pony's headed to the kitchen. He can make you a sandwich if ya hungry."

   "Oh, uh, no thanks, Pony..." I waved him off. "Don't feel too good right now."

    Ponyboy left and it was just me and Darry. The television wasn't turned up real loud, but I could hear it like it was blasting from down the street.

    "Don't need to be worried about it, Soda." Darry's voice was low and tender. "Nothing's gonna happen."

    I looked over at my brother. He'd always been the definition of the older brother everybody wanted to have. I mean, every person you talk to can't hardly find anything bad to say about him.

    But as I looked into the gaze that had always been firm and trustworthy, there was something in it that told me he was lying and couldn't bring himself to admit it.

    "I know." I swallowed. "Can't help but wonder, y'know..."

    Ponyboy came back and sat down beside me with a coke in hand, eyes glued to the TV screen as the draft began at 7:00. I knew in the back of my mind I was the only one who'd be eligible to go if I got called, because Ponyboy was too young and Darry was his technical legal guardian and was in college.

    It made me sick. The nerves made me so sick.

    "Good evening, we come to you tonight on September 8th, 1970, with another draft call." The man looked somber. "This is the third after two other drafts, taking place in April of this year and December of last year."

    I swallowed, feeling the dread take me over.

    The man turned and the camera panned to another man, standing in front of a cork board and a large, bowl-looking object that held the 366 birth dates that would be called.

    The first 195 men to be called were to go off to war, and the remaining 171 were home free. And of the last two drafts called, my birthday and Darry's had both fallen in the remaining 171.

    It seemed too good to be true, but this time I couldn't help but think that this was gonna be it.

    That I would be one of those boys getting hauled off to Vietnam...

    "Now we will begin with the dates." A voice-over called. "November 9th, 001."

    He pulled out another piece of paper.

    "April 5th, 002."

    They kept going, calling dates and numbers.

    "June 21st, 038."

    "November 2, 047."

    I took a deep breath, standing up and walking around to settle the nerves. Darry opened his mouth to say something but then stopped himself.

   The dates and numbers kept rolling.

    "August 19th, 052."

    "April 15th, 059."

    That was Steve's birthday.

    My heart sank, feeling worse about my best buddy than my own self.

    "That's Steve's birthday, ain't it..." Ponyboy said quietly.

    "Yeah, it is." Darry muttered, running his hands over his face. "It sure is..."

    I drew a shaky breath, listening as the dates and numbers continued to be announced.

    "February 26th, 078."

    "July 6th, 082."

    Then my stomach dropped.

    "October 8th, 090."

    Both my brother's faces were looking at me in an instant, their eyes stricken with fear.

    I was going to Vietnam.