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I spent the majority of May in bed, and parts of June too. Even in July, I was still deeply broken by what Bob had done to Johnny. Soda never questioned that night, which I was thankful for. I didn't want to talk about it. It was the end of August now, which meant school was back in session. Due to my absence at the diner, Mickey had cut my hours back even more. I only worked three days a week now. Bob hadn't come to see me since that night.
It was Thursday, Soda, Steve, and Darry had just gotten home from work while Johnny lounged out on our couch. Two-Bit was in the kitchen, once again raiding our fridge for a beer as I sat in front of the TV watching Cinderella. I still wasn't back to who I was before that night. I felt like a shell of the person I once was and I didn't know how to fix it.
Johnny's feet were in my lap as he toyed with the switchblade he'd gotten after that night. He was the most law-abiding of the greasers, but if he ever got jumped again, he wouldn't hesitate to use it and that scared me.
"What're you thinking about Sunny?" He questions softly as I play with the laces on his Converse.
"Nothing, Johnnycake," I say simply, not wanting to remind him of his beating, even if I knew he thought about it almost every day.
He goes to question me further, but a faint scream cuts him off. We pause, the house suddenly going silent.
"DARRY! DARRY, HELP!"
I knew that voice, just like I knew Ponyboy should've been back from the movie house ten minutes ago but didn't realize it.
Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda take off like a flash, slamming our screen door against the outside of the house while Darry, Johnny, and I jump up after them. Johnny pauses behind some of the overgrown bushes behind the house, Darry skidding to a stop next to him to see what was going on. Ponyboy was lying on the ground while Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda tried to beat the socs that caused it.
I take off running, dropping to my knees beside my baby brother. They'd cut a lock of his hair and scraped up his throat with their blade. He was shaking and crying, scared to death of the group of boys. I watched as the boys fought with the socs, my eye catching Trip who sat in the driver's seat. Brill was in the back along with Paul and that stupid yellow sweater he always wore. That left Chet who was fighting to get Steve off of him.
Trip hit the gas, reversing away from the scene, with Steve still attached to Chet, his feet dragging in the gravel. Dallas kicks the side of the car before moving to pick up a stick, throwing it at the red Corvette before it sped off.
