Most of Ponyboy's p.o.v is taken straight from the book. In no way am I taking credit for that part of this story, it all belongs to S.E. Hinton. The only part that belongs to me is the mention of the reader.
~your p.o.v~
Friday, 11:42 PM
I was sick of running and my head was throbbing. I knew I shouldn't have been that active while I had a concussion, but that was the least of my worries. All that mattered was that I knew who did this.
Was it one of the boys that I called friends? Did one of them really kill Bob?
Why?
This question only fueled me. I picked up my pace and was full on sprinting. I didn't care that my head throbbed, I didn't care that my feet hurt. I didn't care that my whole body ached, that my mind felt like it was on the brink of insanity.
I just had to make it to the Curtis house.
I finally saw the house come into sight as I ran down the street. I would have probably felt relieved that I could stop running soon if I didn't have so much going on in my mind.
I made it to the front door and paused, catching my breath. I heard talking inside, but it wasn't the normal kind of chatter. The tones sounded worried. Maybe they were talking about something personal.
I didn't fucking care at this point.
~ponyboy's p.o.v~
Friday, 10:58 PM.
"You know what a soc is?" I said, my voice shaking with rage. "White trash with Mustangs and madras." And then, because I couldn't think of anything bad enough to call them, I spit at them.
Bob shook his head, smiling slowly. "You could use a bath greaser. And a good working over. And we've got all night to do it. Give the kid a bath, David."
I ducked and tried to run for it, but the Soc caught my arm and twisted it behind my back, and shoved my face into the fountain. I fought, but the hand at the back of my neck was strong and I had to hold my breath. I'm dying, I thought, and wondered what was happening to Johnny. I couldn't hold my breath any longer. I fought again desperately but only sucked in water. I'm drowning, I thought, they've gone too far... A red haze filled my mind as I slowly relaxed.
The next thing I knew I was on the pavement beside the fountain, coughing water and gasping. I lay there weakly, breathing in air and spitting out water. The wind blasted through my soaked sweat shirt and dripping hair. My teeth chattered unceasingly and I leaned back against the fountain, the water running down my face. Then I saw Johnny.
He was sitting next to me, one elbow on his knee, and staring straight ahead. He was a strange greenish-white, and his eyes were huger than I'd ever seen them.
"I killed him," he said slowly. "I killed that boy."
Bob, the handsome Soc, Y/n's older brother that she loved dearly, was lying there in the moonlight, doubled up and still. A dark pool was growing from him, spreading slowly over the blue-white cement. I looked at Johnny's hand. Ge was clutching his switchblade, and it was dark to the hilt. My stomach gave a violent jump and my blood turned icy.
"Johnny," I managed to say, fighting the dizziness, "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Go ahead," he said in the same steady voice. "I won't look at you."
I turned my head and was quietly sick for a minute. Then I leaned back and closed my eyes so I wouldn't see Bob lying there. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be...
"You really killed him, huh, Johnny?"
"Yeah." His voice quavered slightly. "I had to. They were drowning you, Pony. Again. They might have killed you. And they had a blade... they were gonna beat me up..."
"Like..."-I swallowed- "like they did before?"
Johnny was quiet for a minute. "Yeah," he said, "like they did before."
Johnny told me what happened: "They ran when I stabbed him. They all ran..."
A panic was rising in me as I listened to Johnny's quiet voice go on and on. "Johnny!" I nearly screamed. "What are we gonna do? They put you in the electric chair for killing people!" I was shaking. I want a cigarette. I want a cigarette. I want a cigarette. We had smoked our last pack. "I'm scared, Johnny. What are we gonna do?"
Johnny jumped up and grabbed me up by my sweat shirt. He shook me. "Calm down, Ponyboy. Get ahold of yourself."
I hadn't realized I was screaming. I shook loose.
"Okay," I said, "I'm okay now."
Johnny looked around, slapping his pockets nervously. "We gotta get outa here. Get somewhere. Run away. The police'll be here soon."
I almost agreed with Johnny, until I remembered Y/n. "But we can't do that to Y/n. She's gonna find out soon enough, we can't just up and leave. At least not until she knows." I was beyond scared and the guilt of the situation was just now settling in.
By the look on Johnny's face, I could tell he knew I was right. He hesitated for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. "You're right. We have to go back to your house. Knowing Y/n she'll be out looking for her brother any time now. She'll probably go to your house. We gotta give the news to her and hope for the best."
I was shaking, not only due to the cold and the fact that Bob lay dead. I was shaking at the huge possibility of Y/n absolutely hating us. She'd probably get someone to kill us for her if she didn't end up doing it herself.
"We better get a move on." Johnny said. We stood up, me still feeling unstable from the sickness I felt in my stomach. We decided to make our way back to my house, not knowing what would await us.