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Chapter 15

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"I brought you something back, Pony," Soda walked back in and threw McDonald's bag on the kitchen table.

"Thanks, Soda," I said.

"Hamburger in there for ya," he said.

"Soda, are you okay?" I asked.

"I don't think had enough time to drive around. Once I get Steve some lunch, I'm going on a nice long drive..." He said, slamming down plates on the counter. He started to cut bread and lay cold cuts on it, spread mustard around on it.

"Do you wanna.....come with me?" Soda said.

"I guess," I said.

"Good. Cause I need someone right now," he said. I didn't touch my bag until he went to go get his car keys. I grabbed the bag and walked out the door with him. He threw the car door opened and slammed it. I quickly got into the passengers seat.

He was right when he said he needed a long drive. Because I are my cheeseburgers my fries, drank all my drink, and discovered the meaning of life all while driving out to the country.

Answer: there is none.

He was hunched over the wheel and driving like a mad man, swerving left and right. Once we were on the road, he was speeding. And once the gas started to run out, he slowed down. I figured we had been on the road for a couple hours before he said a word.

"IT'S JUST SO FUCKED UP! ITS FUCKED UP PONYBOY! ALL THE SHIT I HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERY GODDAMN DAY!" He pounded his fist into the steering wheel.

"Soda-"

"No! WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS? EVERY DAY! MOM'S DEAD, DAD'S DEAD, STEVE'S GOING TO!"

"Don't say that Soda," I said.

"I'll say it til the day I die! Steve's going to die, I've seen the signs I've seen him," he said. He was hunched over the wheel, his face down. He sniffed. I think at that time of my life I saw that Soda was the most vulnerable he had ever been.

"I... Can't... take it..." He said, crying. "Soda, pull over," I said.

"No," he said.

"SODA. PULL THE HELL OVER," I snapped. He finally veered over the road and stopped.

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy," he was at that weak point in a mental breakdown. Where every syllable said includes a weak voice and a small shake to it.

"I just can't do it. I just can't..." He said. He didn't look up.

"With Sandy... And Mom and Dad.... And school... And now this... I just really can't seem to find an ounce of strength anymore," he said.

"Soda you can do this..."

"My best friend is dying too.... I just can't do this much longer, Ponyboy.... I'll... I don't know what I'll do," he said.

"Come on, Soda don't say shit like this. We'll help you through it," I said, laying my hand on his shoulder and squeezing. He looked up. His face looked redder than blood.

"I'm sorry...." He said.

"I'll leave you here by your lonesome for a little while. I need to clear my head too," I said, getting out of the car. When I started to walk, I saw Soda was still crying and I just left him there.