Helpless

Darry

(Darry)

"These are unacceptable living conditions for a child in his current state," the social worker told me. Pony sat chewing on his nails and Cherry just looked miserable; I'd told her that this wasn't her fault, but she blamed herself for letting him in.

"Sir," I said as calmly as possible, "my brother and I both volunteered to stay home, but he understands that we need money in order to get him treatments."

"As I understand it," the man said, glancing over his notes, "treatments have been discontinued."

"Yes."

"But throughout them your brother was home alone."

There was no way to make this look good. "Yes. We called throughout the day and Soda stopped by at lunch. I tried to get to work earlier so I could be home by four, but that was the best we could do."

"I was all right by myself," Pony squeaked out. He was tapping his fingers, and I knew he wanted a cigarette, although he hadn't smoked in months. "All I did was sleep."

"Honestly," the social worker snapped, "do you realize what a potentially dangerous situation this could have been? You could have passed out and no one would have realized. This demonstrates a completely lack of responsibility..."

"Sir, I was well aware of all this," I fought to keep my voice under control, "but this was the only option we had. Believe me, I tried, but we needed the money and couldn't go to the state because we ran the risk of the state taking him from us."

"Which is very possible at this point, you understand that?"

God I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit him as hard as I could. Pony looked ready to cry. He'd been that way since I got home. I was dying to talk to him, because he'd said something I hadn't understood when I'd come home.

"If you were tired of me," he'd nearly sobbed, "why couldn't you just tell me?"

"What are you talking about?" I'd asked, baffled, but the social worker had started talking before I got my answer.

"Yes sir," I said curtly. "But this is not what he needs right now."

"A state hospice would certainly be better than here, don't you agree?" he asked.

"No," I snapped, "because he needs to be with his family right now. That's the only way he could possibly do this."

The man frowned at me. Pony was holding his breath; Cherry slipped into the other room and began straightening it up, but I knew she was listening.

"I would agree," he said slowly, "if I thought your brother had any chance of getting well. But I understand he does not."

Pony made a funny noise and slumped against the table, his eyes shut tight. I glanced at the clock, wishing that Soda and Steve would get here. Soda would calm him right down. Me too, for that matter.

"He still needs us," I snapped.

"But you're not here during the day."

"I'll stay with him," Cherry came out of the laundry room. "I'll stay everyday until they're home from work."

I admired her; she was a Soc, popular and pretty, but she was willing to spend her time with us. And she had been a good friend to Pony all along.

"That's not my only concern," the man went on relentlessly, paying no attention to my clearly suffering younger brother. "I'm concerned about other things, such as how you'll pay your hospital bills, or for that matter, funeral expenses."

"Listen! You don't need to..." I started, but Ponyboy burst into tears at the word funeral.

"Shutup," he begged, burying his face in his arms, "why don't you shutup?"

"Pony," I pleaded, reaching for his arm, but my brother jerked away at the exact moment the front door slammed.

"What's going on?" Soda asked, wide-eyed. He spotted Pony and the social worker and paled. "Darry? Is everything okay?"

"He's gonna take me away," Pony sobbed, looking up at Soda desperately.

"No, he ain't."

"Could we speak in private?" the man demanded impatiently. Soda put an arm around Ponyboy and lead him back to their bedroom, Cherry turned the washer on and started a load of laundry, Steve slipped out front to smoke. I took a deep breath and braced myself.

I'll fight for you, I reminded myself. I'm ready to.