She found him, curled up on his bed and under his covers, she could hear the faint sounds of sniffles erupting from his chest. The blankets quaked as he sobbed softly.
“Sodapop, baby.” His mother whispered softly, her heart grew heavy with sorrow as she sat beside him. “Who hurt you?”
“N- no one…” The sound of his voice was muffled by his pillow.
“Honey, I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me what happened. I want to help you, I really do. Come out and show me your beautiful face.”
“Mum…” He choked, pulling himself up so he could look at her. “I tried so hard, I really did. I tried so hard and I failed, why am I a failure? Why can’t I be like Darry or- or Ponyboy? Why can’t I be like-”
“Hey now, none of that.” She wrapped her arms around his body and she held him in her arms like she used to when he was just a tiny, little boy that was crying over a scraped knee. “What on Earth is this about?”
“I got an F” His tears were spilling from his eyes as he shook in Mr’s Curtis’ arms.
“Sweet heart, is this all over an F? It’s just an F baby, you’ve never been this worked up over one before.”
“You don’t understand.” He placed his head against her chest, her soft heartbeat soothed him like a lullaby. “You don’t understand… I tried this time. I really tried to get an A.”
“Oh darling.” She sighed, her fingers glided through his perfectly greased hair. “I know how upset you are-”
“I’m dumb, I’m so damn stupid.”
“Hey. Don’t you dare call yourself those names, do you understand me, you’re not dumb, you’re not stupid, you’re my special little guy, you’re-”
“I’m nothing like Darry or Ponyboy” He cut her off. “They’re smart, Ponyboy is only 12 and he know’s how to write essays and thesis’, Darry know’s advanced Calculus and he’s going to an Ivy League school, and I’m never going to amount to them, I’m going to be a lazy bum.”
“Don’t you ever compare yourself to Darry or Ponyboy, you hear? They’re book smart, I know that. But books aren’t everything, I’m glad that they’re able to grasp school, and I’m proud of them both. But I’m proud of you too.”
“Why would you be proud of me, I’m an idi-”
“Sodapop Patrick Curtis.” Mrs Curtis wasn’t having his self deprecating attitude any longer, she turned him over on his stomach and she swatted his bottom with as much force as the tiny woman could muster.
“Ow! You hit me!” He accused, his eyes were wide and clouded with hurt.
“I merely swatted you, you keep going and you’ll getting a spanking. I don’t care if you’re 15. You’re still my baby.” She wrapped him up in her arms once more. “I am proud of you, every day and I will never stop.”
“How could you be proud of me?” He asked softly. “I don’t understand.”
“You mightn’t be book smart, Soda, but you’re definitely not dumb. Books don’t get you everywhere. This world needs more people like you. You’re so creative, you’re the only kid I know who makes blue mash potatoes. You’re so kind, in a world like this one, it’s not something you see every day. You have a heart bigger than this state. You’re the glue that holds this family together, and one day, you’ll find something you’re great at, and you’ll make a career out of that. An F doesn’t make you a failure. I just want you to keep being the boy I love, the boy that I am proud to call my son. I want you to stop seeing yourself as a failure and see yourself through my eyes and your dad’s eyes. We love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I love you mum.” Sodapop said softly, his eyes brimming with tears as he wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh honey, I ain’t ‘dyin for at least another 60 years, you’re stuck with me.”
