Cut My Lip

Eight

"Are they okay?" I asked, trying to fight the nurse who was trying to bandage one of the burns on my arm. "Ponyboy and Johnny? Are they okay?"

"They're fine. I need you to stay still so I can bandage you."

I ignored her. "And Dally? He's okay?"

"He's okay."

"You promise?"

She sighed. "I promise."

I finally stopped moving and let her bandage me up. I was informed that I'd been shot in my leg (that had also been broken), had multiple first and second degree burns, and had a minor concussion. If I wanted to walk, I'd have to use crutches. They said I'd have to stay in the hospital for a few days.

I was still half asleep and mildly delirious at this point.

"What about the kids? The little kids?" I asked.

"They're fine." She sighed. "None of the children are injured."

I nodded. "Good. Okay. Good."

I laid back against the bed and closed my eyes. I was surprised at how quickly I fell asleep.

.

I'd had a dream that Dally and Johnny had died. But the nurse said they were okay, so I knew they couldn't be dead. I was probably just tense about the whole situation.

My leg was elevated in front of me, propped up on a pillow. It hurt to move it, and all of my muscles were sore, and the hospital was freezing. I was flipping through a Readers Digest that I'd talked a nurse into giving me.

I was bored out of my mind, and I'd only been in the hospital for about twelve hours. I was too nervous to get any sleep. Hospitals always made me nervous.

I'd read and reread the magazine three times, and I'd resorted to tearing pages out and folding them into paper airplanes. I wondered if Pony had gotten to see Darry and Soda yet.

"Glory, you look like a hot mess." Soda whistled, walking into the room.

"Don't be mean." Pony reprimanded as he and Darry came in behind him.

I rolled my eyes and threw a paper airplane at him. He caught it and unfolded it. "Wow, Reader's Digest? You really must be bored."

"Tell me about it. I had to convince the nurse to snatch it outta the waiting room."

.

Later that day, I was allowed to go home. Over the course of the next few days, however, we were all in and out of the hospital.

"So, you're really gonna fight in the rumble?" I asked Darry. "And you're letting Pony fight?"

"Hey, I'm fine! I can fight." Pony insisted.

Me, Darry, Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit all gave him a look. "What? I can!" He said.

"Gettin' awful defensive there, little buddy." Darry frowned.

"I'll be fine!"

"Ponyboy, have you ever won a fight?" Steve asked him.

"Y-"

"Without someone else there to help you." He added, and Pony scowled.

"That's not the point." He said.

"Leave the kid alone, he can fight." Two-Bit said, taking a swig of beer.

Me and Darry exchanged glances.

"I don't like that look. Is that a thing that couples do, the silent conversation thing?" Soda asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Fine. You can fight." Darry finally gave in. "Be careful though, kid, alright?"

"I will. I promise."

.

I wasn't allowed to fight in the rumble. Darry and the rest of the gang were not having it. So I was being forced to be on standby, even though I was barely standing with crutches.

"Wait! Hold on!" Dallas shouted, sprinting over, and then the fight was on.

"Dallas, you stupid bitch," I whispered to myself.

I hated being forced to stand by and watch while my friends got beaten up. But sure as hell, they were winning.

"They're running!" Two-Bit shouted gleefully. "Look at the dirty bastards run!"

And they certainly were running. Dally grabbed Pony's arm. "Let's go, kid, Johnny wasn't doin' too well when I left."

"Hey, what about-" I started, and he just picked me up.

"Woah, okay," I said. He carried me to the car and I sat in the back while he and Pony sat in front.

He was still drivin' Buck Merril's T-Bird, which I didn't approve of, but what say did I have?

We got pulled over, but Dally used Pony as an excuse to get an escort to the hospital. "Sucker," He hissed as we sped along behind the cop.

.

Dally had to carry me inside, but I didn't seem to slow him down. He was strong. He threatened to pull his switchblade on the doctor if he didn't let us in to see Johnny.

I felt like I was in a dream. Nothing seemed real.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy," I heard Johnny whisper. "Stay gold."

And Johnny was dead. Nothing was real. This couldn't be real. Dally was cursing and crying.

"Dallas. Dallas, come on," I said, but he ignored me and ran out.

Pony was crying silently, and I sat in a chair in the corner and gestured for him to come over to me. He sat in the chair next to me and cried into my shoulder for awhile. The doctors barely noticed us as they took Johnny's body out.

"You're okay." I whispered to Pony, stroking his hair. "You're okay, honey. We're all okay."

"He's not dead!" He sobbed. "He can't be dead."

"It's okay. We're all gonna be okay. Come on, we gotta start walking home. I'm gonna need your help, okay, sweetheart?" I said, and he nodded. "There's a supply closet down the hall, there's crutches in there, I need you to grab them, alright?"

He left and came back a moment later with the crutches. He helped me up, and then we started on our way home.