Dallas Winston Has A Sister? (Outsiders Fanfic)

Eventually

        I brought a sandwich on a paper plate and a glass of chocolate milk into Pony and Soda's room.  Pony was sitting on the bed next to an unconscious Soda.  He hadn't left Soda's side since they brought him home from the hospital yesterday morning.

        Three days ago, Soda got jumped by some Socs, and they split his head open with a busted vodka bottle, because of course they were drunk.  He ended up needing seventeen stitches, two pints of Ponyboy's blood, and he had a concussion.

        "Pony, you should probably eat something," I told him.  Darry had asked me to see if I could get Pony to eat anything because he hadn't eaten or slept since yesterday morning.

        Pony, Soda, and I were the only ones at the Curtis's, Darry and Steve were working, I don't know where Johnny or Two-Bit were, and Dally had sworn to get revenge on the guys that busted Soda's head open, so he was probably doing something that would get him jailed.

        "I'm not hungry," Pony mumbled, keeping his eyes on Soda.

        I sighed, I knew he was gonna say that.

        "Pony, would you at least try and eat something?  I don't want to have to force feed you," I said, but I wasn't really planning on force feeding anyone.

        Pony sighed and took the plate from me but just set it on his lap instead of eating anything.  We were both in a bad enough mood already so I didn't feel like arguing and I just set the glass of chocolate milk down on the nightstand and sat down backwards in the desk chair.

        "Do you think he'll be all right?" Ponyboy asked me.

        I hesitated before answering, "Eventually."

        He sighed again and then started eating his sandwich, but only took a few bites before setting it down again.  I was flipping through a random book I had picked up because we were both bored out of our minds and worried to no end about Sodapop.

        Soon enough I convinced Pony that we should do something to keep our minds off the fact that Soda had been dead to the world, almost literally at one point, for three days and might not wake up for another week.  So he started reading the book I had been looking through out-loud t pass time, but then Ponyboy fell asleep. He must've been exhausted to fall asleep in the middle of reading a book, but at least he was getting some rest so I didn't bug him.

        I took the book from him and set it on the side, he just shifted slightly but kept sleeping, and then i headed into the living room and turned on the TV to keep me from worrying too much about Soda.

        About a half an hour later, Pony shouted my name, and I jumped to my feet and ran to their room, figuring something was up with Soda. 

        I was right, he was awake and trying to sit up, but Pony said firmly, "Don't move," and pushed him back down onto the bed.

        "Why?" Soda asked groggily, looking around the room.

        "You have a concussion and your brains are being held together by seventeen stitches," I replied evenly, because I'm pretty sure that was enough of a reason for him to not move.

        Soda gave me a dumbfounded, are-you-crazy look and asked, sounding a bit dazed, "What?"

        "Do you remember Friday night?" Ponyboy asks him.

        "We got jumped by the Socs, didn't we?" he asked, unsure.

        Pony nodded and I replied monotonously, "Yep."

        "I think I got hit with something," he said and then asked, "i got hit with something, right?"

        "Yeah," Pony answered with a small smile at Soda, who reminded me of a little kid at the moment with all the questions and skepticism.  Drugs would do that to you, as I've learned from experience.

        "One of the Socs smashed a busted bottle into the side of your head.  You've been out for three days," I explained.

        "I'm still really tired.  And my head is killing me," Soda mumbled.

        I grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills, a bottle of painkillers, and a bottle of aspirin and dumped one of each into my palm before handing them to Soda, and then I gave him Ponyboy's untouched glass of chocolate milk rather than running to the kitchen or the bathroom for a glass of water.  Soda downed them and closed his eyes ans was out again in seconds.

        I glanced at Pony and asked rhetorically, "You think he'll be okay now?"

        "Eventually," Pony answers with a slight smile, sounding happy for the first time in quite a while.