I opened my eyes slowly. I was looking up at the ceiling of Darry's room, on top of a white sheet. I was still in the clothes I had worn to school that morning, and they felt like they had become one with my skin. Nobody was in the room with me; at the moment, I was alone. I didn't know how I had gotten here. I supposed one of the gang had helped Pony move me to the house and was still here: I could hear a few low voices talking urgently in the kitchen. My arm was pulsing in pain, but at least my vision and hearing seemed to be fine now. I glanced down at where I had been stabbed. It had been neatly wrapped in a clean white bandage, though blood was already starting to ooze through the pristine wrappings. Luckily, however, the worst of the bleeding seemed to be over.
I reached up to brush my hair out of my eyes with my uninjured hand and sat up slowly. My head pulsed a bit from the movement. My fingers and toes were much warmer now, and I didn't seem to be in shock anymore. The puncture in my arm was extremely agonizing without the adrenaline and shock blurring it away. I placed my shaking hand over the slightly wet bandage.
"P-Pony?" I called shakily.
The voices in the kitchen stopped at once, and I heard two sets of footsteps pace over to Darry's door. Ponyboy poked his head in, looking very worried; behind him, I saw Steve Randle. Steve's face was as white as a sheet, but both of them looked immensely relieved that I was awake. Pony's forehead relaxed at once.
"Diana! You're awake!" he exclaimed, stepping inside the room and sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel? Are you okay? Can you hear me?!"
"I'm fine, Pony. My arm just hurts, that's all," I reassured him and winced as a fresh wave of pain attacked my forearm.
"You really scared us, kid," Steve said hollowly. He cleared his throat. "With how much you were... bleeding and all."
I gave him a small smile. "Sorry about that," I said softly.
"It's okay, it's not your fault," he responded quickly. "Pony ran down to the DX and tried to get me and Soda to come help, but Soda was working and couldn't get off. I came as fast as I could, but I didn't really know what to do. You didn't look good, kid, you were pale and your eyes were half-closed..."
"So I ran over to the payphone and called Darry. He had just finished a roof so he came over quick. He was the one who carried you in and helped fix you up," explained Ponyboy.
So I hadn't imagined Darry coming to my rescue. I wondered if Pony or Steve had heard me call out for him; I sincerely wished they hadn't. "Is he still here?" I asked, trying not to let the note of longing and hope into my voice that I felt.
Much to my disappointment though, Steve shook his head. "No, he was called back into work. He'll come over as soon as he can, Soda will too I'd guess."
I nodded, relieved, and sank back into the pillows, releasing a small groan as my arm pulsed in pain.
Steve was at my side in an instant. "Are you okay?" he asked me in concern. His hands fluttered towards me like he was going to touch my bandage, but he stopped himself just before his grease-smudged fingertips could brush my arm.
"I'm fine," I said, closing my eyes. "Thanks for the concern, though."
I felt Ponyboy stand up from his perch on the edge of my bed, and I was slightly aware of Steve's presence moving away from my bedside. "We'll leave you in here to rest then, Diana," Steve said softly. Then he and Ponyboy walked out of the room.
"Bye!" I called out after them, rewarded with a sharp stab of pain in my head from the strain of making such a loud noise. I screwed my eyes up tighter to combat both it and the agony in my arm. I tried to get my mind to clear itself of any thoughts (including imagining how Darry would have reacted to my lifeless and battered body), and soon I was fast asleep.
It was a fitful sleep. I wasn't in a really deep slumber, so frightening images kept replaying in my dreams. I saw what would have happened if the Socs had succeeded in dragging me into their car. I saw myself screaming and kicking, floating above the scene like some kind of admonitory angel, the Socs laughing and helping Arnie push me into the backseat. I saw Pony dash over and try to help, only to be stabbed by Arnie's gleaming and bloodstained blade... I saw the bloodred car screech away from the curb, and Pony left bleeding on the pavement... In my angel form, I flew down to comfort him and save him, but there was nothing I could do. His blood ran through my transparent fingers, which did nothing to help him. I felt a sob rip through my throat as his breathing became more labored and his eyes closed.
I stayed there with Ponyboy for what felt like hours. Slowly, I materialized into a person instead of an angel, but there was nothing I could do. Soon his breathing stopped, and everything fell silent. I wasn't even breathing. My heart had seemed to stop with Ponyboy's.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps thunder up behind me. I spun around to see the whole gang running towards us, horror clear on their faces, though all their features were blurred and indistinct. The only face I could see clearly was Darry's- his eyes were full of horror and grief as he took in the scene. Ponyboy's blood had soaked into my clothes; glancing down at myself, I saw that I looked like a monster. Darry's eyes sought mine, begging me to deny what had happened, but I was at a loss for what to say. The horror in his face reflected my own. He stepped toward me. He was saying something, I couldn't understand what, but instinctively I knew it was bad. His voice rose angrily. He blamed me for Ponyboy's death.
"No!" I tried to protest, tears streaming down my cheeks. "It wasn't me... There was nothing I could do! Nothing... It wasn't my fault! It wasn't...."
All of the sudden, I was snatched out of sleep by someone shaking my shoulders. I gasped and bolted up, my head throbbing in protest at the sudden movement, nearly crashing into whoever had awoken me on the way up. My cheeks were wet with tears, and my throat was raw. I realized I had probably been yelling and thrashing in my sleep and felt instantly embarrassed. The dream still haunted me, though; I could still see Ponyboy's lifeless body and Darry's angry, accusing eyes.
"Are you okay?" It was Sodapop's caring eyes that watched me in concern as I struggled to control my sharp breathing. "We heard you crying out in your sleep from the kitchen."
"Who's 'we'?" I asked him after clearing my throat and drying my cheeks with the back of my hand. I sincerely hoped that Darry hadn't heard me whimpering like a baby.
"Pony and I. Darry's not quite home yet," Soda said pointedly.
I ignored the last part. "What was I saying?" I asked apprehensively. Had they heard me sobbing over Ponyboy, denying that I had killed him? I hoped not; that would lead to too many awkward questions regarding the stability of my subconscious.
"You were like... I don't know. Crying, like tears were coming out of your eyes." His voice sounded sympathetic. "Which is understandable, considering what you just went through. I remember Johnny was-" His voice broke, and he paused to clear his throat and recover. "It took Johnny a while to get over the first time he got jumped."
I felt a pang of sadness as I recalled Johnny, the boy who had died and who the gang still missed and grieved deeply for. "Still, it's embarrassing..." I said sheepishly as I ducked away from his gaze.
"How are you feeling now?" Soda asked me kindly, tactfully changing the subject. "Your bandage still looks good. It's not soaked through yet."
I glanced down at my arm. It looked like he was right; the bandage had about the same amount of blood soaked into it as it had before my little nap. "Yeah, I guess," I said. It sure wasn't hurting as much as it had been before, and my headache had quieted down to a dull roar as well.
"Why don't you come out and eat something? There's leftover cake from this morning that would perk you right up," Soda offered.
I nodded. Chocolate cake, especially some as good as Darry's, sounded very delicious right then. Soda extended his arm, and I took it gratefully, using it as a crutch to slide out of bed and stand up. I didn't have to lean on him an extreme amount as he helped me into the kitchen, but I was grateful for the extra support. I was able to sit down clunkily onto a chair without his help, though it made my arm twinge a bit as I used it to steady myself.
Ponyboy was sitting at the table across from where I sat down, and he gave me a small smile. To my shock, I noticed that he had a pallid bruise on his cheekbone. It looked extremely painful, but to his credit, he didn't seem to let it faze him.
"Are you all good, Ponyboy?" I asked him as he handed me a plate fully loaded with chocolate cake.
He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said, shoveling a large amount of cake into his mouth. "Just a little bumped and bruised. Nothing compared to what you went through." He swallowed. "How's your arm?"
"Better." I rotated my arm so he could see the bandage. "Thanks for going to get help. I probably wouldn't be in such good of shape without you, Steve, and Darry's help."
"Darry did most of it. He's the one who usually patches us up after rumbles," Pony admitted. "He should be home any minute now, so you can thank him in person."
There was something in his voice that made me frown as he and Soda exchanged a glance. I noticed they were both concealing grins. I leaned back and carefully crossed my arms, staring at them both. "What? Is there a problem with that?"
Soda shook his head and hid his mouth with his hand. "No, not at all," he said, while Ponyboy interjected, "You're awfully fond of him, aren't you?" The tone of both of their voices was playful and teasing, but it still made me bristle in embarrassment.
"I--" I started to say, stopping myself and trying again. "Fond may not be the right word..." I muttered as I blushed furiously. Soda and Ponyboy snickered. "All right, all right! Maybe I am, but what of it?" I said in exasperation.
"It's just... Nothing," Soda said, sobering up at once. "You actually mean it? You're not just messing with us?"
"Of course I-" I paused and glanced at him suspiciously. "Why would I be messing with you?"
"Well..." Ponyboy hesitated and took another bite of cake. "Darry doesn't really--"
"I don't really what?" Darry stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. He must've just gotten home from work.
"Nuthin', Darry," Ponyboy said hastily and crammed more cake into his mouth.
Darry crossed behind him and mussed his hair up before grabbing a plate from one of the upper cabinets. "Oh really?" He raised his eyebrows at Ponyboy doubtfully.
"Really, Darry it was nothing," Soda covered for his brother smoothly. "We were just talking about... um... the jumping today. Right, Diana?"
I looked up at him, startled that he had dragged me into the conversation, and nodded affirmatively.
Darry nodded at my bandaged wound. "How's your arm?"
Had I just imagined it, or was there a note of tenderness in his voice? Did he really care about me? "It's fine. I'm fine," I said. "Thanks to you."
The kitchen suddenly became awkwardly stuffy as Soda and Pony laughingly glanced at each other and Darry and I looked down at our feet. I tried to keep the heat from my cheeks. "Any one of the gang would've done the same," Darry said gruffly. "We're family. We take care of each other."
I felt something in my chest heat up when I heard him say that word: family. I looked around at the three boys in the kitchen, and I realized something. They were almost like my family. Maybe I was meant to find them.