You're Dead To Me || ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇʀꜱ

Come Back

Sodapop Curtis...
   
I've upset Steve once again and I feel bad. We were just starting to get along, too. I'll call him later. After the movie, I head back home. I find Darry reading a magazine of some sort on the couch. It's getting pretty late. I haven't seen Ponyboy in hours. Until he rushes through the door, his hair soaked and his face marked with scratches.
  
"You look awful." I tell him before I realize he's hyperventilating. His hands are painted with blood and tears are streaming down his face. I'm worried, just less surprised as I would've been. Since Ponyboy has been getting in more trouble, he's been getting hurt a lot recently. But this seems really bad, he isn't in any good shape or emotional state.

    "What happened?" I ask him, he's still panting. "I don't wanna believe what I've seen, I just can't! I gotta go, Soda. Please, I don't even know--I think I just need to die. I know it sounds crazy! And don't even think about increasing my medication for a second because I really mean it this time when I say I won't be here! It isn't because Johnny's dead and I'm upset about it to the point where I'd end up like Dally--it's not that. Dally's gone, but Johnny . . ."
   
Darry and I pay our full attention to Ponyboy.
   
"Johnny's still alive. And I found out, just when things were starting to get better, too!" He exclaims in his scratchy voice, Darry and I turn to each other. There's no way. Johnny died in that hospital, Ponyboy saw him die. Pony isn't a liar, he wouldn't lie about this. This is serious. But Darry and I shoot each other an unsure look. "Ponyboy, are you sure it was Johnny?" I ask him.

    "Yes! It was him, he was fully abled. He still has those burns and marks from the fire, but he wasn't paralyzed. I even felt him, I pushed him down. His hand was on my arm, it was him. I don't want to believe it. If anything, I'd want him dead. So he could rest. But that's all changed, my conception and gratitude is shattered." His breathing gets more heavy. I wanna believe Ponyboy, I really do. But with everything that's happened, I don't think I could.

   "It's okay, PB. We'll get through this, we'll talk this out. Don't die, don't say things like that. It'll get better." Darry tells him and I nod in agreement. A look of betrayal crawls its way onto Pony's face.

    "You don't believe me, do you?" His voice gets lower. "So I'm just crazy then, no? Well, what are you gonna do? Stick me in some mental facility and make things worse? Increase my medication? Forget it, you've lost me. I'm dead to you."

    My expression grows compassionate and I can feel tears forming in my eyes. I look over to Darrel for help, but it doesn't do any good. He's getting frustrated. The tension is growing and I can already sense a fight just waiting to snap. Not another fight, I can't do fights.

    "I believe you." I tell Ponyboy, and I mean it this time. But his glare doesn't turn away from Darry's. That's when I realize he probably would've been expecting for me to believe him because he knows I show more empathy than Darry. "Darry, he's probably telling the truth. Where did you find him, Pony?"

    "It was further down south, that's why it took me so long to get back. Was more in the country, closer to Windrixville." He says. "Windrixville. Ain't that the place you and him ran off to after he killed that Soc?" I ask and he nods, "yes."

    I look at Darry and his expression slowly softens but he starts to look more conflicted.
_____
Darrel Curtis...
    I really hope Ponyboy was just seeing things. Just a mind trick, nothing else. And even if he had some demons to fight off, that would be fine because we could treat that and get through it. But Johnny surviving? Johnny's soul still being somewhere on earth after all this time, after Dally killed himself and Ponyboy almost did the same thing? No.

That isn't curable. And I also don't want the tragedy of Johnny still being alive to be true for the same reason Ponyboy believes. Yes, the boy is young, but he's had a hard life. Harder than any of ours. And I know that if Ponyboy really wants to die, which he does, then he'd waste no time finding a way to his grave. I wanna help him, I wanna save him.
   
But I'm not Dad.
   
I can't do anything, I'm powerless. I guess that's that. Pony may not be physically dead, but I can see death in his eyes. All I really see is a ghost.
_____
Ren McCormack...
    I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm not wanted in the gang. I was warming up to Two-Bit, he's friendly and funny. And even things were getting better with Steve, but I can't erase or mark out the bitterness I see in him. When he talks to Soda or Two-Bit it vanishes. I know because I've seen it from afar, he's like a different person. A better person when I'm not around him. And then when I'm in his sight, I bring out the worst in him.
   
Maybe this was a mistake.
   
I don't know what I did wrong. I try my best to be friendly, I smile at Steve--even when he isn't looking. I guess no amount of smiles could win his mutual respect. No matter how many times I try, I'll always be the odd one out. I'm from the city, Chicago. This is a whole new place for me. Tulsa, Oklahoma. This town is now my home. The gang is now my family, the only friends I have here.
   
My head is tilted down, I'm wearing Soda's hat which shadows my face. My hands are stuffed in my denim pockets as I walk by. I suddenly hear yelling from a house nearby, sounds like some drunks, a man and a woman not getting along. It makes me stop in my tracks for a second but then I move on, picking up the pace. I'm just about half a block down when I see another greaser.
   
It's hard to see from here, but when I squint my eyes I can see the burns on his neck, a gashing scar on his left cheek. Shades of maroon are scattered over his scars. He looks like he just got tossed out a pit of heck. He has dark raven hair, his scars clung onto his sweaty, fairly tawny skin. The street lights enrich his bronze glow.