Feelings

(4)

Dallas

I sat on the couch across from Pony. After all of the commotion died down, there was just an awkward silence in the room. I studied Pony. There was something definitely different about him. He would never talk to Darry like that, but I gotta admit that the comment he made was hilarious and smart-ass like. He didn't even finch when Darry raised his hand against him. The kid's got balls now. He got eyes of steel and the coldness was all the warmth there was beaming in them. His eyes looked blue with small flecks of green. What happened to the hazel eyes that once held warmth? He looked like he knew of the hard life and everything about it's struggles radiated off of him. But, he's never ever gotten a taste of what that was like. He kinda reminded me of myself - tough, cold and mean. But, when did he become so ruthless? Did something happen in the few hours when we were knocked out?

I studied the kid a little more, hoping to find out some answers to the questions swirling in my head.

Blood. There was blood stains all over him.

"Hey kid," I said breaking the silence in the house. "Where did you get the blood stains?"

Everyone turned to look at Kid Curtis. There was blood on his pants and on his shirt. It was everywhere.

"Blood was spilled in some of my recent activities." For the first time that day, emotion shined through his eyes. He looked angry, hurt, confused, and upset. But, just as quickly, his eyes turned icy. It seemed as if he could stop a tornado with those eyes. "I'll go get changed." Pony glided upstairs to his room.

"Does anyone have any idea what 'activities' he was talking about? I might have an idea but I don't even want to think that it is what I think it is." Everyone just looked as lost as me. Except Johnny. "Johnny, do you know what happened to him?"

Little Johnny looked everywhere else except the gaze of the family. "Well . . ."

Everyone waited. We knew not to rush Johnny when he was speaking. We would just frightened him.

"Last night, when I woke up, Pony was here with me. I blurted out about what happened to me yesterday and he got mad. He told me that he was going to try to make things better when he thought that I was sleeping. And, then he went out of the house."

"Make things better?" I said it more to myself that to anyone, but the same thought was on everyone's mind. "How's a little shrimp like that going to make things better? He can barely fight for himself, let alone for other people."

"Hey," Soda protested.

"You know it's true. How many times do we have to save his ass during a rumble?"

"I know, but he's still my brother and I don't want to hear him talked about that way."

"Fine." I needed a smoke. Lighting a Cigarette, I offered some, but they rejected it. "He's still a little shrimp who can't defend anyone, not even himself. You can't even argue with that."

***

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-DMBW