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I stare up at the ceiling of my room, studying the creases and cracks in the paint. Darry always told me focusing on one thing when he’s stressed helps him calm down, but my brain just won’t have it.
Today was quite possibly one of the loudest, most exhausting days of my life. First, I’d been dragged out of a pretty good dream because I overslept. I can’t remember it now, but I didn’t have a nightmare or anything. Next, I couldn’t find a matching sock. I scoured my room until Darry hollered at me that I was gonna be late for school. Luckily, I found a matching pair under the bed, but that left me with no time to fix my hair or make sure I had all my books in my bookbag.
After hastily greasing my hair in that car because I was fortunate enough to have Steve drive me (as he reminded me several times), I got to school and was thrown into the chaos headfirst. Steve didn’t linger. He ditched me the second we got to the front steps. The halls were bombarded with chatter, jostling, and light, none of which I wanted to deal with. Somehow, I made it through the first part of the day despite the fact that I was missing my algebra notebook and my biology homework was crumpled and folded. But I kept having to listen to Bethany Carter drone on about the latest gossip and some Soc jerks spit paper wads at the back of my head.
During lunch, I met up with Steve, Two-Bit, and Johnny, like usual. We walked to the drugstore where Steve and Two-Bit got preoccupied with talking to some girls. That made me even more irritable. Johnny seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything. Based on what he deals with at home, I know he doesn’t like to test anyone who looks like they’re in a bad mood. The second half of the day passed like I was walking through molasses. My head started hurting from all the noise, and I kept biting my lip in order to suppress my emotions. Having a breakdown at school would make me seem real tuff.
I’ve had them a lot in my life, mostly when I was little. I tried to control them if I was around the guys, because they’d pick on me for it. Well, mainly Steve and Dallas. Mom always helped me through it. She’d give me a big hug and let me scream and cry as much as I needed. Sometimes, she’d grab a pillow in case I needed something to squeeze. Dad could calm me down, too, but she was the best at it. She always knew exactly what I needed, so I never had to say anything. As much as I seem like I’m good with words, I have an awful hard time using them to describe my feelings. And if I’m overwhelmed, I usually don’t feel like talking at all.
When I got out of school, I bolted home. I took the long way, mostly because it’s quieter. I needed a break from people for a while. I tried Darry’s method then, too, by focusing on the clouds. It helped a little, but I was still tense when I walked through the front door. No one was home yet, so I had the place to myself. After downing several aspirins to soothe my headache, I stumbled back to my room.
The ceiling doesn’t look distinct to me anymore. The rest of the gang is supposed to be here soon. We’re going to the county fair tonight. Darry’s getting off early for it, and Soda’s been talking about it every day for the past week. How the weather’s supposed to be nice ‘cause it’s almost June, what games they’ll have and how much he’s gonna crush everyone at them. I think we’re all silently hoping it’ll rid the house of the somber air that’s possessed it ever since Mom and Dad died. That’s why I can’t afford to have a breakdown tonight. I don’t want to ruin this for everyone else. Lately, that’s all I seem to do.
The front door slams shut and voices fill the hall. I really don’t want to go deal with people right now. My brain is barely staying stable. I hear a knock on my door before it squeaks open.
“Pony? You doin’ okay?”
Great. Just great. As much as I love Soda, he’s the last person I want to see right now. He’ll take one look at my face and know something’s off. He’s good at reading people like that. He’ll treat me differently the whole time, or worse, he’ll tell Darry, or even worse, he’ll get the group to call off the whole thing. But we need this. I need this.
“Mhm,” I mumble, turning away from the door. The bed rumbles as he sits down next to me.
“You sure? You know we’re goin’ to the fair tonight, right? You can go on the ferris wheel.”
I do love the ferris wheel. It’s the best view in all of Tulsa. Or so the sign says. I roll over a little to face Soda. His face creases with concern.
“Did you have an okay day at school? Did somethin’ happen, or–”
“I’m fine, Soda,” I say, making eye contact with him as much as it pains me to do so. If I’m gonna pull this off, it’s gonna be like playing poker. Not making eye contact is one of my tells that something’s off. “And yeah, I’m real excited for the ferris wheel.”
Soda doesn’t seem satisfied, but he lets it go.
“Alright, kiddo, we’re leavin’ soon as Darry’s home. Go get ready.”
He ruffles my hair. Normally, I’d laugh it off, but I’m not in the mood. I grease my hair again in the bathroom, steeling myself to go to the living room. In my current state, even the tiniest actions take crazy amounts of mental energy. I walk down the hall to find Two-Bit sprawled out on the couch, chugging his pregame beer. Soda and Steve are arm wrestling on the coffee table, and Johnny and Dally are lingering by the door. A bustling noise comes from the kitchen that I assume must be Darry. He walks out a few moments later.
“Oh, there you are, Pony,” he says, glancing at me. “Alright, are we all ready to go?”
Soda and Steve give a holler and race out the door. Two-Bit and Dally are on their heels, while Darry shakes his head exasperatedly before following. Only Johnny stays, waiting for me.
“You alright, man?” He asks.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing energy into my voice. “Let’s go. Should be fun.”
Johnny doesn’t stop glancing at me the whole ride to the fair. I stare out the window at the sinking sun, trying not to notice. When I step out into the bright light of the sunset, the only thing on my mind is faking it. I absolutely do not want to be here, no matter how fun it looks. The bright lights, the noise, and the crowds create the worst possible environment for me to walk into. Maybe, if I give it some time, I can sneak off to the parking lot, where it’s quieter.
After standing in line for what feels like forever to get our tickets, everyone splits off. Soda and Steve race for the bumper cars, Two-Bit takes Darry towards the games, and Dally’s gone off who knows where. We’re under strict orders from Darry to meet back at the parking lot by ten, but I don’t know if I can last that long.
“You wanna go on the ferris wheel?” Johnny asks, shaking me out of my thoughts. “I know it’s your favorite.”
I nod, biting my tongue to keep my feelings down. But my stomach turns as we make our way through the crowd. Everything’s too loud, and people keep bumping into me, and the food smells really strong, and the lights in the booths are blinding. Johnny wordlessly hands me a cigarette as we get in line. I smile at him gratefully. That’s one of the best parts about our friendship—we understand each other without words.
The cigarette gives me something else to focus on as we climb into the car. The man working the ride straps us in, and we rise up into the air. The smoke flies past my face and I look up at the sky. We stop at the very top, which is pretty lucky. Dad always used to say that when you stop at the top of a ferris wheel, you can make a wish. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I wish to not ruin the night for everyone else. If that’s even possible.
Up here, it’s quieter, like all the commotion below is underwater. The sun is setting, creating an ombre of pink, orange, and golden tones. Man, if I could be sitting in my sunset spot right now and drawing it, I’d feel so much better. I have a little spot I go to on the edge of the woods by our house where you can see the sunset real clear. No one else knows about it, not even Soda or Johnny. It’s my special place where I can go and clear my head. I focus on the horizon as we hang in the air.
“Man, that’s one tuff sunset, ain’t it, Pony?” Johnny remarks.
I nod, not wanting to talk and lose focus.
“You sure you’re alright? You’ve been actin’ moody all day.”
“I’m fine, Johnny,” I snap as the ferris wheel begins to move again. I feel his eyes watching me as we go around a few more times. I keep my gaze fixed on the sunset, which lasts until we get off the ride. Back down on the ground, the chaos envelops us once more. We wander towards the food stalls before Dallas joins us.
“Hey, Johnnycakes, Pony.”
He slugs both me and Johnny on the shoulder. I know that’s just his way of showing affection, and normally it wouldn’t bother me. I might even sock him right back. But right now, it keeps screwing with my focus. The noises in my brain are getting louder, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the dam bursts.
“Hey, kid. You doing alright, man?”
I jolt back to reality to find Dally snapping his fingers in my face.
“Quit it, Dally, I’m fine,” I say, waving his hand away.
“That ain’t what Johnny said, but suit yourself. Y’all wanna go play some bullseye?”
In an effort to appear normal, I lead the way. The bullseye stand is smack dab in the middle of all the action, and there are people everywhere. Dally leads us to the front, pushing where he needs to. Johnny and I scamper after him so as to not be left behind. Dally hands the guy behind the booth some tickets and grabs a rifle. He doesn’t do too bad, even gets a few bullseyes. Johnny is somehow amazing at this game, even though, as far as I know, he’s never picked up a gun in his life. He hits bullseye after bullseye, earning cheers and gasps from the people around us. Now, it’s my turn.
I pick up the rifle and hold it steadily in my hands. Right elbow out, left elbow down, butt tucked against my shoulder. Just like Dad taught me. I don’t think Dallas or Johnny have ever been hunting, but Dad took me and my brothers all the time before he died. I think I liked it the least. I can’t stand to shoot living things. Bullseye targets, however, I have no problem with. Confidence builds in my chest. This’ll show both of them that I’m fine. That I’m not going to ruin the night. I take aim and fire.
The shot misses the target completely and almost takes out the guy in the booth.
“Jesus, kid,” he says, breathing heavily, “don’t you know how to aim?”
“Sorry,” I mumble. I take aim again, and this time I hit the edge of a target. Not too bad. I fire a few more, but I just can’t seem to get a bullseye. I always come close, but never exactly on the mark. After my round is finished, I hand the guy a wad of tickets.
“Pony, what’re you doin’?” Johnny asks.
“I haven’t spent any of these, and I gotta do it somewhere,” I say, aiming at the targets. I take shot after shot, but still no bullseye. A small line starts forming behind me, and I hear grumbles from kids complaining about why I’m taking so long. They don’t know how much this means to me. If I can get a bullseye, it’ll mean everything’s fine, right? Everything’s totally fine.
My grip becomes more shaky, but I clench the rifle like it’s a winning lottery ticket. Sweat pours down my face in the evening humidity, but I don’t let anything bother me. I try desperately to focus on the target, not my itchy clothes or my sweaty face or the noises around me or the blinding lights at the top of the booth or the stench of fried food or the proximity of the people standing near me. I let out a deep sigh and fire my last shot. It hits the center target straight through the middle. Bullseye.
I lower the rifle in relief. The guy hands me a fistful of winner’s tickets I can use at the prize booth. Johnny and Dallas pat me on the back, and for a moment I feel okay again. Then I make the mistake of turning around and bumping straight into a guy holding a soda. The drink spills all over me, drenching my clothes. To add to my luck, it’s a Soc.
“Watch where you’re going, grease,” he sneers, elbowing me to the side.
I slam into a pole, and the dam bursts.
My breaths quickly increase in speed and shallowness. I clutch my elbows tightly, trying to give myself comfort. I look around frantically to try and find Dally and Johnny, but they’re not there. Shit. Everything’s too loud and bright, and I feel tears start to leak out of my eyes. Dammit. I can’t break down now, not in front of the whole fucking town. My whole body is shaking, and I don’t know if I can stay standing. I stagger over towards a quiet alley in between booths and fall to the ground. But the noises and smells and everything are still pervading, and I can’t escape them. I curl in on myself, clamp my hands over my ears, and close my eyes, hoping I can magically teleport back to my room.
I feel hands on my shoulders, and I open my eyes. Johnny’s kneeling next to me, his eyes wide. I want to talk to him, tell him how to help me, but I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’ve lost control over my body, like I’m on autopilot.
“Pony, what’s wrong? Was it the Soc? Did he say somethin’?”
No, it wasn’t him , I think, praying Johnny can read my mind. He’s pretty good at it. He looks me up and down before his eyes grow soft.
“What do you need?” He asks.
Since my mouth isn’t working, I inch closer to him. He understands what I need and opens his arms. I dive into them, burying my face in his chest. He pulls me in, rubbing my shoulder gently. I let out all the emotion and stress I’ve been feeling all day, glad to know that he understands.
“Is it too loud?”
I nod. He places one hand on my ear and tucks me into his shoulder so both are covered. My hands relax and I pull them into my chest again, grabbing my elbows. Johnny sways slightly. My breathing has calmed down, but my crying hasn’t.
“Do you want your brothers?”
Soda, yes. Darry, no. Soda knows how to calm me down better than anyone, but Darry’ll just get on me again for not using my head or something. I don’t know how to tell Johnny any of this, though, so I just nod again. Maybe I’ll have pulled myself together by the time they show up. I feel Johnny’s head move.
“Dal, can you go find Darry and Soda?”
I hear a muffled voice, which I assume to be Dally, and then silence. Johnny holds me tightly against him. My eyes are closed again. I’m trying to come back to myself, one sense at a time.
“Pony? Have you been feelin’ like this all day?”
“Mhm,” I mumble, the first coherent sound I’ve made in a while.
“You don’t have to say anything, but you know you can tell me if something’s buggin’ you, right? We’re friends. You look out for me, and I look out for you. Always.”
I nod again, still consumed by sobs. Johnny doesn’t press again, just holds me close and whispers comforts whenever I hear noises and flinch. It feels so cathartic to let all of these emotions out. I forget about the noise and heat and smells and light and people and itchy clothes. I just let my cries speak for me.
“Easy, Pony. We’ll be okay. Deep breaths, remember? Deep breaths,” Johnny mutters. Glory, he sounds just like Soda when he soothes me back to sleep at night. I’m kinda glad it’s Johnny who’s here, though. With Soda, I might’ve actually had to try and talk, which would’ve made things worse.
I hear other muffled voices and realize it’s the rest of the gang. Oh, great. Now, I’m gonna hear about how I dragged them away from their fun because I’m such a bawl baby. Steve’s probably poking fun at how much I’m crying. Darry’s probably pissed that he wasted his night off on this. I nestle more against Johnny. I don’t want to face everyone else.
“No, he’s just worked up,” I hear Johnny say. “It was really loud where we were, and I think he ain’t been havin’ a good day, and it was just too much. He ain’t hurt or anything.”
“Pony?” I hear a soft voice, which I assume is Soda’s. “It’s just me, Soda. You alright, kid?”
I lift my head to see Soda kneeling in front of me, Darry close behind. Steve, Two-Bit, and Dally are a little further back, giving us some space.
“Pony…..” he says, voice trailing off. I’m still borderline hysterical. As grateful as I am for Johnny’s presence, right now, I really do need my brother. I shift towards him a little, still unable to find my words. Johnny notices. Through careful maneuvers, he passes me off to Soda. I fall into his embrace as he wraps me up in his arms. He rocks back and forth a little, and it almost feels like we’re back home in bed and I had a nightmare. I focus on the gentle movement of his fingers in my hair as he cradles me tightly against his chest.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs. Usually, I hate when he calls me that in front of the gang, but I don’t get on him for it. “How long have you been feelin’ like this?”
“I‘m sorry,” I whisper, unsure if he can hear it. My crying has ebbed a little, but I don’t feel ready to face the world again.
“What are you sorry for? You ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“No,” I say, voice hoarse, working up some nerve. “I ruined your day. I was tryin’ to be okay, but everything’s been really loud and bad the whole time. And now I’m cryin’ like a baby, and I got your shirt all wet. Y’all should just go have fun without me.”
“Pony, you didn’t ruin anything,” says Johnny. “If you ain’t feelin’ good, you can just tell us.”
“I promise, it ain’t a burden or anything, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” adds Soda.
I lift my head a little to take in the rest of the gang for real. Johnny has his hand on my shoulder. Darry’s gaze looks softer than usual. Two-Bit flashes me a gentle smile. Even Steve and Dallas don’t look as mean as they normally do. It loosens the knot in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Darry,” I say, looking at the dirt.
I don’t know why I think I owe him a personal apology, but I say it anyway. I’m not supposed to cry in front of him, but I messed that up, too. He puts his hand on my other shoulder. For a moment, I forget about all the fights we’ve had and the ever-growing divide between us. Right now, he’s just my big brother who’s here to help.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” he says. I catch a short glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “Do you wanna go home?”
I nod.
We make our way back to the parking lot earlier than planned. Steve, Two-Bit, and Dallas opt to go out on their own, taking Steve’s car. Darry, Soda, Johnny, and I pile into our truck. I sit between Soda and Johnny in the backseat, my head resting on Soda’s shoulder and my hand gripping Johnny’s. It’s a silent ride home, which does wonders for my overwhelmed mind. When we finally arrive, I linger on the porch for a smoke with Johnny.
“You should stay here tonight,” I say.
“I don’t know, it’s kinda nice out. I like it,” he replies.
“Yeah, and so do the mosquitoes.”
He takes a drag on his cigarette. I watch as the smoke billows into the night air.
“Johnny?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being there. And not makin’ me talk or anything. Just knowin’ what I needed. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and that I was bein’ snappy earlier. I thought it wouldn’t make me look very tuff.”
Johnny turns to face me.
“Pony, you know I already think you’re tuff, right?” He says. “You ain’t gotta pretend. And I was just returnin’ a favor, you know? I think we get each other, even without sayin’ anything.”
“Ponyboy Curtis, put out that cigarette and get to bed,” Darry calls from inside.
Somehow, I’m thankful for a slice of normalcy like that tonight. I stamp out my cigarette in the dirt and walk towards the door.
“You still should stay here. It’ll be cooler,” I say. Johnny doesn't respond, simply nods his head.
Later, as I climb into bed with Soda, I hear footsteps down the hall and the creaking of the couch. When I drift off, I’m grateful. Grateful for my brother’s arm around me, grateful for a quiet night to sleep in, and grateful for my best friend snoring safely on the couch.