Helpless

Twobit

(Two-Bit)
I knew the moment I opened the door that something was horribly wrong.

Steve was sitting on the couch beside Soda. Cherry Valence was walking around with a bottle of Fantastic, but her eyes were pink, like she'd been crying or was close to it. Darry was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen; I heard Ponyboy's soft voice drifting through the wood, accompanied by another, one I didn't recognize.

"What's going on?" I asked, and was instantly shushed by everyone in the room.

"State's here," Steve mumbled.

"What?"

He nodded toward the kitchen. "Keep it down, we're tryin' to hear."

"Hear what?"

"Glory, Two-bit, do we gotta draw you a picture?"

I thought for a second. "Oh," I said, figuring that they were doing a routine check-up. But seeing the palor of everyone's face and somberness of the room, I realized that that wasn't it at all. "Oh," I murmured as realization dawned.

"Shutup, will ya?" Darry snapped. I obeyed. Cherry caught my eye, put down the bottle and crossed the room to me, gesturing to the porch.

"I let him in," she confessed as soon as we were out of earshot. "I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," I assured her, "this isn't your fault."

Cherry twirled a strand of her hair. "He seems awful gun hoe on taking him away, Two-bit."

"Darry ain't about to let that happen."

"What'll he do about it?"

I shrugged. "He'll figure out somethin'."

"He's already tried just about everything," she murmured. I fought the sinking sensation that suddenly hit my chest. Darry had held on to Pony and Soda through everything so far; he just couldn't lose them now, not when Pony needed them both so badly.

"Financially they're done for, Two-bit." I'd nearly forgotten about Cherry.

"Yeah," I sighed, "I know."

"Well, the state didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Darry filed for some welfare, but he didn't tell them that Ponyboy is...that he's not going to get better."

"But they just found that out last night!"

I wasn't liking what I was hearing, and Cherry must have been able to tell, because she softened her tone and glanced around, as if nervous. "The state's implying that he knew sooner."

"That's bull."

"And they don't like that Pony was left alone during the day while he was on chemo." "This is bull!" I stalked across the porch and back into the living room, leaving Cherry outdoors. "Darry, what the hell is going on? Why aren't you back there with him?" "Two-bit," Soda moaned, "this ain't a good time."

"He wanted to talk to Ponyboy on his own," Steve explained.

As if on cue, the door opened and a dark haired man emerged, carrying a briefcase and wearing a frown. He barely acknowledged me.

"I am sorry," he said after a moment. "I believe that you've done your best. But this is not the right environment for a child in his condition. I'm going to recommend that he be moved."

"Then you'll have to move me with him," Soda instantly said, leaping up.

Then I caught sight of Ponyboy; he stood in the doorway, wrapped in his usual robe, the DX cap jammed over his head, looking as ghost-like as ever; but there was more. I'd never seen his eyes that wild, even the night of the rumble when he stood in the foyer feverish and ready to collapse, which he would just minutes later.

He's losing it, I realized, and the enormity of everything that had happened these past few months really hit me; he'd lost Johnny and Dally, lost his health, lost his hair, lost his self-esteem, lost his childhood, lost his life, and just found out that he'd be losing his home; most importantly, his brothers.

"I ain't leaving," he declared, his voice trembling with pain and rage. "You can't make me leave. I'll run away from wherever you stick me."

The social worker sighed. "Ponyboy.."

"No! You bastard, you can't just come in here and do this to us, you ain't been here all these months, you ain't seen me be sick, you ain't helped pay my bills, you and the state can't come in here and decide what's best for us during a couple of hours, that ain't fair!"

"Pony," Darry started, but Pony turned on him.

"NO! I don't wanna hear it! If you'd gotten tired of me you shoulda said so, not gone to file a report to get rid of me!"

That startled all of us. Darry's eyes widened in hurt shock. "What're you talkin' about? I never..."

"He told me," Pony pointed a trembling finger at the social worker. He was panting; short, raspy, wheezy gasps that didn't make any of us feel any better. "You filed for something, and that's what brought him here, you got tired of me and brought him here but I don't care, I ain't leaving, none of you understand that I can't, for God's sake, something's got to go right, something's got to be okay again..." he was sobbing by then, which brought on a fit of coughing. Soda practically flew across the room to his younger brother.

"Pony," he soothed, "take it easy, you're..."

But he never got to finish his sentence, because Pony suddenly leaned his head back, as he had that day in gym and gasped for air-a deep liquidly sound that abruptly cut off as none came.