Helpless

Pizza

Darry POV:

"Anyone home?" I called, tossing my tool belt down on the sofa. Soda's shoes were on the floor, and the mail was scattered over the coffee table.

"Hiya honey," Two-Bit called in a high voice from the kitchen.

"You might not wanna come in here right now, Dar!" Steve echoed.

"Why not?" I snapped, stalking into the kitchen and instantly regretting it: the counters and floor were covered with flour, a bottle of olive oil had fallen over and was slowly leaking over the tile, the sink was running, the stove was turned up as high as it could go, and Steve and Two-Bit were in the middle of the mess wearing flowered aprons.

"We're making pizza," Two-Bit explained.

"You're making a mess!" I nearly screamed. Steve shushed me.

"Jesus, shutup! Pony and Soda are passed out back there. Better not to wake them up."

"Thanks," I mumbled as the phone rang. I left the disastrous kitchen to answer it. "Curtis residence?"

"This is Dr. Rollins' office calling for Mr. Darrel Curtis." My heart leapt; Dr. Rollins was the chemotherapist we'd been referred to.

"Speaking."

"We're calling to reschedule the appointment you'd made for...I'm sorry, the name here seems wrong."

"Ponyboy?"

"Yes."

"That's his real name," I sighed, wishing my father hadn't been quite as original as he was.

"Oh. Sorry. Anyway, we'd like to reschedule to earlier in the day."

"It can't be earlier. My brother and I work."

"Perhaps your parents could..."

"My parents are dead." Never had been a graceful way to say that.

A pause. "I'm sorry."

"Fine. Just make the time work."

I heard papers shuffling, and the receptionist sigh. "All right...how about tomorrow, four o'clock? That's the latest I can do."

I swallowed hard; if I went to work early I could probably leave in time to get back, take Pony to the hospital, then if Soda could meet us there he could bring him home, except he'll need the car then and I have to get to my other job...

"Two-Bit?" I shouted. He poked his now flour-covered head around the door. "Can you drive Pony and Soda home from chemotherapy tomorrow?"

"Won't Pony be sick?"

"I don't know. Look, can you?"

"Sure, Dar. As long as the kid doesn't ralph in my car."

"Glory Two-Bit, ya never give me a break, do you?" Pony suddenly appeared in the doorway.

I heard a sigh beside my ear and remembered the receptionist on the phone. "That's fine," I rushed.

"Very well. See you then. Remember he'll be unable to drive after treatment, and it's recommended that he not eat. The drugs cause extreme nausea."

I closed my eyes and turned away from my younger brother. I didn't want him to see me pale, which I knew I was doing. "Fine. Thanks," I hung up. Pony frowned at me.

"Who was that?"

"Doc's office. You're going at four tomorrow."

He shrugged. "Fine with me. Not like I have anything to do." He turned and caught sight of the kitchen. "Glory Two-Bit! What the hell have y'all been doing?"

I just watched him, memorizing each detail of his face. He'd look a lot older by the time this was all done.