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Chapter One

"So, what Charles Dickens probably meant by this paragraph was-" My teacher was saying but the bell cut him off mid sentence. I looked around as all of the other kids began grabbing their books and binders and shoving them into the bags. I sighed and grabbed mine, slowly putting it in my bag. Ever since Dally and Johnny had died, I had been slacking off with my school work, and I didn't enjoy going as much as I used to. "Kids!" my teacher, Mr. Chatham called out. I looked up at him although it seemed like I was the only one. "Remember to read pages 40-47 tonight and answer the questions I gave you earlier. Everyone just continued talking, and getting their belongings together. As I stood up to leave for my next class, Mr. Chatham's eyes met mine. "Ponyboy, Can I speak to you for a second?" He asked. As much as I wanted to say no, I knew that I couldn't, so instead I nodded my head, and walked up to his desk. Mr. Chatham pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Take a seat anywhere, Ponyboy." He said to me, gesturing out to the empty seats in the classroom. I remained silent and walked over to a desk on the front row. I sat there in silence as I watched Mr. Chatham look through the big drawer in his desk for something. I continued watching him, and then I saw him pull a notebook with my name on it out of his desk. My heart began pounding. It was my theme that I had written. I wrote my theme because Mr. Chatham promised that I would pass with a C if I wrote a good theme. I really hoped my theme was good enough, because I knew that I would be in big trouble with Darry if it wasn't. I squirmed in this seat. I really wanted to know if it was good enough. When the last student had finally left the classroom, Mr. Chatham walked over and closed the door. He grabbed my theme, and then came and sat down in the seat beside me. He layed the theme down on the desk in front of me. I looked over at him. He pushes his glasses up on his nose again. "I want to talk to you." He said, "About this." He tapped my folder with his finger. "Okay." I said, nodding my head ever so slightly. "Is this.." He started, but then paued. I looked over at him again. He took a deep breath. "Is this truth?" He asked. "Is this what really happened?" He sounded a bit said. I nodded silently, answering both of his questions. He nodded his head, and pursed his lips together. Mr. Chatham opened my folder and began to flip through it. He had a few paper clips on some pages. He turns to the first marked page and puts his index finger on a sentence in the middle of the paper. My heart dropped as I read the sentence in my head. "It says here that your brother, Darry, hit you?" Mr. Chatham questioned. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I now knew what this was about.