Helpless

Charity

Soda POV:

"Go on back to sleep," I murmured as Pony sank across our bed. I moved the trashcan over near him, in case he woke up sick.

"He all right?" Steve asked from the doorway, staring at my pale and exhausted younger brother. I just nodded, pulled Ponyboy's shoes off and the covers up and then quietly shut the door.

"Doc says it's normal," I told my best friend, moving toward the kitchen to start dinner. Steve followed, looking slightly uneasy.

"Anything I can do?"

I shrugged and pulled out a chicken. "Peel potatoes."

Steve made a disgusted face; I laughed at the same time the doorbell rang.

"I'll get that. You peel."

"Why can't you just bake 'em?"

"Because mashed will be easier on Pony's stomach," I called, reaching for the door. It was odd that someone would be ringing the bell; most people who knew us just walked in. Unless...

Oh, please don't be the state, I thought wildly, my heart pounding as I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. We can't have them around here now, not when we're already in financial trouble and Ponyboy's passed out back there. I took a deep breath as I slowly opened the door.

It was not a stuffy-looking social worker standing on our porch; but someone equally as shocking.

"Hi," she said simply, "I'm Sherry Valence. Ponyboy's friend."

"Oh," I half-stuttered. "Sorry. I'm Sodapop Curtis."

She smiled. "Pony's told me about you."

"Hopefully good things."

"Always." I smiled at that, knowing it was probably true. "Anyway, I...I saw the flyers at school and talked to Two-Bit...he said y'all needed some help. My parents have money and all, and some of my friends..." she seemed awful nervous. I wondered if she was afraid of us. I wasn't sure whether to invite her in or not. I didn't want to leave a girl standing on the porch like that, especially a beautiful socy one like her, but asking her into our house felt wrong too.

"...What I'm trying to say is, here," Sherry held out an envelope, unsealed in the back. I took it from her outstretched hand and pulled out a check.

"I..."

"Please don't see it as charity," she rushed on, seeing my hesitation, "it's not that. It's just that Pony's our friend too, and we all want to help, and this is really the only way we know how."

I couldn't believe the amount. It would disappear fast; in fact, it would probably pay off only his first hospital stay, but anything helped at that point.

"Thank you," I finally managed.

"I'm going to try to get more," Sherry said slowly. "I'm going to do whatever I can. But...do you mind telling me...how bad is it?"

"He'll be fine," the words burst from my lips automatically. He'll be fine. Of course he'll be fine. Things can't turn out any other way, because we'd all go crazy. I'd go crazy. I'd go after him. I'd follow him anywhere. I'd follow him to the grave...

What the hell am I thinking? I thought, startled by my own thoughts. Dread suddenly settled in my chest. That had seemed so natural, so right, so easy to think: if my kid brother died, I'd go after him.

"Will he be really?" Sherry's hopeful voice snapped me back to the present. I stared at her: she had beautiful green eyes. Kinda the same as Pony's, but less intense. His were more gray.

"We're hoping," I said simply, watching the brightness fade slightly from her face. "He's getting help."

"Soda! The food's burnin', I'm gonna take it out!"

"Uh oh," I turned toward the kitchen. "I'd better go before he tries to cook something."

Sherry nodded. "It was nice meeting you," she murmured. "If you need anything...please, let me know."

"I will," I assured her. And I meant it: we didn't care about charity at this point. Pride wasn't important anymore. Not when Pony's life was involved.

She smiled at me before walking toward her red mustang parked in front of our house; suddenly, violently, I missed Sandy. I wanted to hold her, I wanted her to hold me, to tell me everything would be all right. I never had to tell her what I was thinking: she knew. She'd know that my heart was being eaten alive, just as my younger brother's lungs were.

"Soda, I'm putting the potatoes on!"

I sighed and wiped my damp eyes. She was gone. But I still had people in my life to take care of, people who I cared about and who cared about me. And they were more important right now.

"Soda, there's smoke coming from the burner!"

I laughed. "Glory Stevie," I called, moving toward the kitchen. "Don't burn the house down, 'kay?"