Warm
gold
It had been unseasonably chilly that day and Ponyboy- for once in his life- remembered to grab a jacket before heading outside. The dishes were done, his homework was complete and he had just enough time to watch the sun set. He hadn’t watched one for almost a month, since before he and Johnny and Dally went to the movies… He shook his head, pushing the thought out of his mind; it hurt too much to think about them.
The steps creaked in protest under his weight as he sat down, lighting a cigarette. He savored the smoke filling his lungs. As promised, he had been able to cut down to a pack a day, and was trying to cut down even more. He really wanted to keep his spot on the A-squad track team and break more records than just being the youngest one. He could hear Steve and Sodapop accusing each other of cheating at their nightly poker game; and from the TV, which Two-Bit was sat in front of, the high giggle of Mickey Mouse. Darry was ironing work clothes. The mood had lightened in the weeks past, but there were still two giant people-sized holes; there always would be.
To Ponyboy, the laughter seemed almost forced and everyone seemed more prone to becoming quiet abruptly, withdrawing into themselves. Try as he might, Two-Bit couldn’t always keep the gang rolling with laughter, and it was obvious it hurt him even more. Steve had become more hardened and jaded, fighting more as if he had to make up for Dally being gone. Soda had gotten a Dear John letter from Sandy, who was now living in Florida with her grandparents. In his 17 years, he had lost his parents, two friends, his girlfriend, and his youth. He had been talking about getting another job to help out, since Darry wouldn’t let Pony work. The three of them clung to each other tighter than ever, knowing they were all they had. As for Darry, he had always been serious, and grieved quietly and in private for his friends, trying to keep strong for his younger brothers. Pony and Darry still fought, but tried to keep it to a minimum out of respect for Soda.
Ponyboy pulled Johnny’s letter out of his pocket and unfolded and refolded it nervously a few times before re-reading it for the thousandth time. He carried it everywhere with him, along with the new copy of Gone with the Wind, already dog-eared in some places. Sometimes he wouldn’t even read the book beginning to end; he’d just flip through to his favorite parts, the one about the gallant soldiers riding into certain death. Just like Johnny and Dally. They were just kids- the soldiers and his friends, gone too soon in the harsh time of war, Civil and class. His jaw clenched and he hastily pulled another cigarette out of the pack, hands trembling. He jammed the note back in his pocket, and leaned against the old wooden steps, breathing out a cloud of white smoke.
A breeze crept through the trees, lifting up Pony’s hair as it passed by, making him involuntarily shudder. If he listened closely, he could hear it winding its way through the trees, whistling coldly. When he was younger, the trees scared him. He always imagined the branches coming to life and snatching him out of his room, muffling his cries while his family slept soundly. Now older, he wondered how easily one could get lost in the small forest.
What was left of the blue sky faded into a pale yellow color. The clouds stretched themselves thin against the changing canvas. Soon after, the yellow began to give way to orange and pink hues. He briefly wondered if Cherry was watching too. They hadn’t talked much since the rumble. Glances when they saw each other around, or an almost imperceptible nod here and there, but he hadn’t heard much from her or Randy since. They got out, good for them, Pony thought, slightly envious. The sky was a deeper pink now, the sun a glowing red-orange perfect circle, slinking its way behind the trees, which were now black in the absence of light. He watched in awe, feeling warm inside.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He jumped when he heard Darry’s voice. His eyes widened as his oldest brother taking a seat next to him. Darry chuckled when he noticed. Pony hadn’t even heard the door open or his brother’s heavy footsteps approach.
“You don’t remember us sitting out here with Dad?”
“Not really,” Pony admitted. He couldn't ever see Soda doing something as frivoulous as taking the time to watch a sunset (but that had more to do with the fact that boy couldn't sit still if his life depended on it), let alone his eldest brother. But, Darry took a spot next to him on the steps.
Their dad had always seen the beauty in everything, something Pony had gotten from him. He was lucky to have inherited his father’s open view of the world, even if it was a bit naïve. Once, when they were out in the country, Soda and Darry were outside playing football, blowing off steam. Ponyboy was content to sit at his dad’s elbow, watching the sunset as it warped his brothers’ shadows. He was always amazed at how they seemed like giants just from the dark shadows their bodies cast. His dad never asked why he wasn’t out there with them, and instead they talked about books and movies. Ponyboy constantly wished his life was as far away from his reality as it could get, and his dad seemed to understand.
“I know it’s rough, son,” he’d say, “but you make the best with what you got. We may not have a lot, but we have each other.”
“I didn’t think you would, you were just a kid then.” Darry sighed and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching. The faint sounds of birds chirping floated out of the trees, and a rabbit hopped across the grass, stopping to inspect its surroundings.
“Did I- ahem – did I tell you about that day Johnny and I tried to catch a rabbit?” Darry gave a small smile as Pony recounted the story, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly. Darry didn’t really like talking about that time; he didn’t like to remember how overcome with worry he had been about the two boys. He couldn’t help but feel the entire chain of events was his fault: if only he hadn’t hit Ponyboy, if only he had gone after him, if only he had been a little more understanding. If only… But the kid was just so damn forgetful sometimes, it drove him crazy. He had to grow up much too fast, they all did. It wasn’t fair.
The sun was setting even lower, the yellow and pink mixing together, the red-orange sky growing darker and somewhere behind them, purple and blue.
Nothing gold can stay, Pony smirked and shook his head.
“Pony, listen,” Darry spoke suddenly, “I know I’m hard on you but you know why, don’t you? You have potential to be somebody; you can get out of here and make a life for yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna. Nothing good’ll come of it.” It dismayed Darry to hear his baby brother talk in such weary tones. He looked at him and saw just how much Ponyboy had aged in the past few weeks. He’d had a breakdown in the week following Johnny and Dally’s death, even insisting he was the one who had killed Bob. Two-Bit and Steve told the gang about Pony casually snatching up a bottle and threatening some Socs with it, as if he had done it a million times before. But he had picked up the pieces right after, and Darry was happy to hear his baby brother was still so careful. But sometimes, Darry caught himself looking at the kid like he was from another planet. He saw the way Ponyboy’s eyes glittered dangerously, and the pained expression that splashed across his face every now and then, as if he was fighting some invisible force inside him. It scared him to look for too long so instead he stared long and hard at the scene in front of them before speaking again.
“Pony, don’t you get it? We’re all we have. I’m sorry I hit you that night. I’m sorry we lost them, but you can’t stop living because you lose someone. You live for them. You live because they can’t, and you better yourself and you make something of yourself.” Tears rolled silently down the younger boy’s face and Darry pulled him into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” the boy’s voice was muffled but his arms squeezed Darry’s torso tighter.
“It’s okay, kid,” Darry grinned, playfully ruffling his hair. Immediately, Pony pulled away and tried to flatten his hair down, scowling at his brother.
“How’s your semester theme coming along?” Ponyboy rolled his eyes at his brother’s question; Darry always had to make everything about work or school.
“It’s alright,” the boy spoke softly. “Mr. Syme read a few pages and liked it.” Shouts of laughter drifted throughout the house once again, and Ponyboy glanced back briefly before turning his attention to the sky. Darry squeezed his shoulder softly before standing back up.
“You make sure you finish it, alright? Don’t stay out here all night.”
The sky’s colors had been steadily darkening throughout their conversation, the sun not even visible over the treetops anymore. Ponyboy lit one last cigarette and fished the letter out again. He turned it over and over in his hands, his vision getting steadily blurrier. He hated feeling like a baby, he felt too sensitive sometimes. The porch light blinked on and Ponyboy hastily wiped his eyes, but no one came outside. He sighed and stood up too, heading inside, the letter still clutched in his hand. He stood in the doorway and surveyed the boys- no, men- in front of him. Johnny’s words rang in his head
There’s still lots of good in the world.
He was right. The sunsets, their small family, being able to stay out of a boys home. Darry’s sacrifices, Soda’s happy-go-lucky personality, which Pony knew would come back in time. Two-Bit’s humor, Steve’s loyalty. In time, they could pick up the pieces and keep fighting, for their fallen friends and for a better life. Ponyboy was beginning to think that they were the lucky ones. They didn’t have money or fancy cars or everything they could ever want, but they had each other, which was more he could say for the Socs. They had everything, but they didn’t have family.
The steps creaked in protest under his weight as he sat down, lighting a cigarette. He savored the smoke filling his lungs. As promised, he had been able to cut down to a pack a day, and was trying to cut down even more. He really wanted to keep his spot on the A-squad track team and break more records than just being the youngest one. He could hear Steve and Sodapop accusing each other of cheating at their nightly poker game; and from the TV, which Two-Bit was sat in front of, the high giggle of Mickey Mouse. Darry was ironing work clothes. The mood had lightened in the weeks past, but there were still two giant people-sized holes; there always would be.
To Ponyboy, the laughter seemed almost forced and everyone seemed more prone to becoming quiet abruptly, withdrawing into themselves. Try as he might, Two-Bit couldn’t always keep the gang rolling with laughter, and it was obvious it hurt him even more. Steve had become more hardened and jaded, fighting more as if he had to make up for Dally being gone. Soda had gotten a Dear John letter from Sandy, who was now living in Florida with her grandparents. In his 17 years, he had lost his parents, two friends, his girlfriend, and his youth. He had been talking about getting another job to help out, since Darry wouldn’t let Pony work. The three of them clung to each other tighter than ever, knowing they were all they had. As for Darry, he had always been serious, and grieved quietly and in private for his friends, trying to keep strong for his younger brothers. Pony and Darry still fought, but tried to keep it to a minimum out of respect for Soda.
Ponyboy pulled Johnny’s letter out of his pocket and unfolded and refolded it nervously a few times before re-reading it for the thousandth time. He carried it everywhere with him, along with the new copy of Gone with the Wind, already dog-eared in some places. Sometimes he wouldn’t even read the book beginning to end; he’d just flip through to his favorite parts, the one about the gallant soldiers riding into certain death. Just like Johnny and Dally. They were just kids- the soldiers and his friends, gone too soon in the harsh time of war, Civil and class. His jaw clenched and he hastily pulled another cigarette out of the pack, hands trembling. He jammed the note back in his pocket, and leaned against the old wooden steps, breathing out a cloud of white smoke.
A breeze crept through the trees, lifting up Pony’s hair as it passed by, making him involuntarily shudder. If he listened closely, he could hear it winding its way through the trees, whistling coldly. When he was younger, the trees scared him. He always imagined the branches coming to life and snatching him out of his room, muffling his cries while his family slept soundly. Now older, he wondered how easily one could get lost in the small forest.
What was left of the blue sky faded into a pale yellow color. The clouds stretched themselves thin against the changing canvas. Soon after, the yellow began to give way to orange and pink hues. He briefly wondered if Cherry was watching too. They hadn’t talked much since the rumble. Glances when they saw each other around, or an almost imperceptible nod here and there, but he hadn’t heard much from her or Randy since. They got out, good for them, Pony thought, slightly envious. The sky was a deeper pink now, the sun a glowing red-orange perfect circle, slinking its way behind the trees, which were now black in the absence of light. He watched in awe, feeling warm inside.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He jumped when he heard Darry’s voice. His eyes widened as his oldest brother taking a seat next to him. Darry chuckled when he noticed. Pony hadn’t even heard the door open or his brother’s heavy footsteps approach.
“You don’t remember us sitting out here with Dad?”
“Not really,” Pony admitted. He couldn't ever see Soda doing something as frivoulous as taking the time to watch a sunset (but that had more to do with the fact that boy couldn't sit still if his life depended on it), let alone his eldest brother. But, Darry took a spot next to him on the steps.
Their dad had always seen the beauty in everything, something Pony had gotten from him. He was lucky to have inherited his father’s open view of the world, even if it was a bit naïve. Once, when they were out in the country, Soda and Darry were outside playing football, blowing off steam. Ponyboy was content to sit at his dad’s elbow, watching the sunset as it warped his brothers’ shadows. He was always amazed at how they seemed like giants just from the dark shadows their bodies cast. His dad never asked why he wasn’t out there with them, and instead they talked about books and movies. Ponyboy constantly wished his life was as far away from his reality as it could get, and his dad seemed to understand.
“I know it’s rough, son,” he’d say, “but you make the best with what you got. We may not have a lot, but we have each other.”
“I didn’t think you would, you were just a kid then.” Darry sighed and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching. The faint sounds of birds chirping floated out of the trees, and a rabbit hopped across the grass, stopping to inspect its surroundings.
“Did I- ahem – did I tell you about that day Johnny and I tried to catch a rabbit?” Darry gave a small smile as Pony recounted the story, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly. Darry didn’t really like talking about that time; he didn’t like to remember how overcome with worry he had been about the two boys. He couldn’t help but feel the entire chain of events was his fault: if only he hadn’t hit Ponyboy, if only he had gone after him, if only he had been a little more understanding. If only… But the kid was just so damn forgetful sometimes, it drove him crazy. He had to grow up much too fast, they all did. It wasn’t fair.
The sun was setting even lower, the yellow and pink mixing together, the red-orange sky growing darker and somewhere behind them, purple and blue.
Nothing gold can stay, Pony smirked and shook his head.
“Pony, listen,” Darry spoke suddenly, “I know I’m hard on you but you know why, don’t you? You have potential to be somebody; you can get out of here and make a life for yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna. Nothing good’ll come of it.” It dismayed Darry to hear his baby brother talk in such weary tones. He looked at him and saw just how much Ponyboy had aged in the past few weeks. He’d had a breakdown in the week following Johnny and Dally’s death, even insisting he was the one who had killed Bob. Two-Bit and Steve told the gang about Pony casually snatching up a bottle and threatening some Socs with it, as if he had done it a million times before. But he had picked up the pieces right after, and Darry was happy to hear his baby brother was still so careful. But sometimes, Darry caught himself looking at the kid like he was from another planet. He saw the way Ponyboy’s eyes glittered dangerously, and the pained expression that splashed across his face every now and then, as if he was fighting some invisible force inside him. It scared him to look for too long so instead he stared long and hard at the scene in front of them before speaking again.
“Pony, don’t you get it? We’re all we have. I’m sorry I hit you that night. I’m sorry we lost them, but you can’t stop living because you lose someone. You live for them. You live because they can’t, and you better yourself and you make something of yourself.” Tears rolled silently down the younger boy’s face and Darry pulled him into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” the boy’s voice was muffled but his arms squeezed Darry’s torso tighter.
“It’s okay, kid,” Darry grinned, playfully ruffling his hair. Immediately, Pony pulled away and tried to flatten his hair down, scowling at his brother.
“How’s your semester theme coming along?” Ponyboy rolled his eyes at his brother’s question; Darry always had to make everything about work or school.
“It’s alright,” the boy spoke softly. “Mr. Syme read a few pages and liked it.” Shouts of laughter drifted throughout the house once again, and Ponyboy glanced back briefly before turning his attention to the sky. Darry squeezed his shoulder softly before standing back up.
“You make sure you finish it, alright? Don’t stay out here all night.”
The sky’s colors had been steadily darkening throughout their conversation, the sun not even visible over the treetops anymore. Ponyboy lit one last cigarette and fished the letter out again. He turned it over and over in his hands, his vision getting steadily blurrier. He hated feeling like a baby, he felt too sensitive sometimes. The porch light blinked on and Ponyboy hastily wiped his eyes, but no one came outside. He sighed and stood up too, heading inside, the letter still clutched in his hand. He stood in the doorway and surveyed the boys- no, men- in front of him. Johnny’s words rang in his head
There’s still lots of good in the world.
He was right. The sunsets, their small family, being able to stay out of a boys home. Darry’s sacrifices, Soda’s happy-go-lucky personality, which Pony knew would come back in time. Two-Bit’s humor, Steve’s loyalty. In time, they could pick up the pieces and keep fighting, for their fallen friends and for a better life. Ponyboy was beginning to think that they were the lucky ones. They didn’t have money or fancy cars or everything they could ever want, but they had each other, which was more he could say for the Socs. They had everything, but they didn’t have family.