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March 1966
Darry woke gradually, burrowing underneath his blankets and savoring the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Glory, it sure is nice to sleep in, he thought to himself as he drifted in the comfortable haze.
Wait — sleep in?
He rolled over to face the alarm clock, and when he saw it was already past 9:30, he bolted upright. Why hadn’t it woken him hours ago?
He scrambled to get dressed and brush his teeth, already thinking about what tasks he’d have to push to tomorrow. He didn’t have the luxury of wasting a single moment of his day off, not with so much to get done.
When he entered the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and grab a bite to eat, he was surprised to see his kid brothers already there, wide awake.
“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” Soda remarked over a glass of chocolate milk.
Darry scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave, but doubted he’d have time. “Musta forgot to set my alarm last night.”
“Uh, about that…” Pony chimed in from his place at the stove, glancing suspiciously in Soda’s direction.
This couldn’t be good. “What did you do?” Darry asked, hackles rising.
“We snuck in early this morning and turned your alarm off,” Pony explained, sheepishly flipping an egg. “Figured you could use the extra sleep.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked, tamping down his frustration. “There’s so much to do today. I’ve gotta catch up with the laundry, buy groceries, scrub the kitchen, call the electric company —”
“No, you don’t,” Soda piped in.
What? “Whaddaya mean?”
“We took care of it,” Soda told him with a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, except the electric company, but only ‘cause they’re closed on Sundays.”
Darry took a look around the room, noticing for the first time that the pile of dishes had disappeared from the sink. The counters were spotless, too. A peek in the icebox revealed enough eggs, cheese, milk, and meat to last through the week, and he suspected that the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his brothers’ room had been taken care of, as well.
It was a sweet gesture, but Darry was more confused than anything. His brothers, while typically helpful around the house, never did anything useful unless explicitly asked, which drove Darry up the wall. “You two did all of this? Why?”
“We noticed how hard you’ve been workin’ recently,” Pony explained. “We wanted to give you a day where you could just be our brother again instead of worryin’ about all that adult stuff.”
Darry’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He desperately wished he could just take a day off from holding their family together, but life didn’t work that way. No matter what his brothers did to help out, he was the one responsible for them at the end of the day. He couldn’t just shirk his duties.
Soda must’ve sensed he was about to make up some excuse, because he hurriedly added, “I know we can’t make it all go away, but can’t we just pretend for a while? Go back to the way things used to be?” His face was so open, so earnest, that Darry could feel his resolve waning.
“But I was gonna nail down those loose boards on the porch,” he protested halfheartedly.
Soda waved him off. “You’ve been sayin’ that every weekend for a year.”
“I was actually gonna do it this time!” he swore. Well, he was — until he accidentally slept in. That particular task would’ve been the first to get booted from the day’s to-do list, like it had every Sunday since last spring.
“Sit down,” Pony ordered, pointing at him sternly with a spatula. He reminded Darry so much of their mom that he couldn’t help but smile. “Breakfast’s ready.”
As Ponyboy served them eggs and toast, Darry considered his brothers’ proposal. Maybe a day of relaxation would be good for him. He’d be well rested for work tomorrow, which meant he could get more done, which would increase his chances of getting a raise…it was a no-brainer, really.
“So. Brothers for a day, huh?” Darry asked. “What did you have in mind?”
—
It was the first day that year that truly felt like spring, which could mean only one thing: playing football in the lot with the guys. No one cared that the ground was muddy with melted snow; they had been cooped up inside all winter long, and nothing could stop them from having their fun.
Typically, the Curtises made up one team, with everyone else on the other. Pony and Johnny, the smallest of the gang, were evenly matched, so it made sense for them to play on opposite teams. Same with Soda and Steve, who had similar heights and builds. Darry was the best player by far, but when you combined Two-Bit’s boundless enthusiasm with Dally’s nimbleness, the teams were as close to even as possible — at least, until they lost Johnny and Dal. They hadn’t played a game since.
Down two men, the teams were severely unbalanced until Two-Bit convinced his kid sister to join them. Surprisingly scrappy and seemingly unafraid of anything, the twelve-year-old quickly proved her worth as a player, even if she wasn’t completely sure of the rules. Darry wouldn’t be surprised if she became the opposing team’s secret weapon in future games.
As he ran down the field with the ball tucked under his arm, Darry couldn’t remember the last time he felt so young, so light. Untethered by the responsibility of being a guardian, he was free to tackle, tease, and tussle to his heart’s content. He hated to admit it, but this whole scheme had been a good idea.
They played all morning long until the game ended as it often did: losing track of the score, arguing about whether a pass was out of bounds, getting too tired to run anymore, and finally agreeing to call it a draw. That was okay with Darry — winning wasn’t the point of their little games, despite what Steve may claim.
Afterward, they headed inside to shower off the mud and have lunch. Darry asked, “So, boys, what’s next?”
His brothers shared a look, mischief sparkling in their eyes.
“We’re goin’ to the races!” Soda proclaimed.
—
Amateur drag racing wasn’t strictly legal, but as long as things didn’t get too rowdy, the cops didn’t seem to care too much. So every third Sunday, adrenaline junkies and speed demons gathered on an otherwise abandoned quarter-mile stretch of asphalt on the edge of town.
Normally, Darry wouldn’t have agreed to something like this. There was a fine line between a greaser and a delinquent, and skirting the law like this made him uneasy. And while drag racing was undoubtedly a greaser pastime, there were always a few soc-y guys there with their tricked-out cars looking for a taste of rebellion, increasing the potential for trouble.
Despite all this, Darry’s brothers had been so excited that he couldn’t bear to refuse. Plus, with Darry there to whisk them away at the first sign of trouble, what’s the worst that could happen?
From their vantage point on the nearby hill, they could see the rows of neatly-parked cars waiting for their turn at one end of the track and a large checkered flag at the other. Weeds grew through the cavernous cracks in the road, and the spray-painted start and finish lines had faded to near-invisibility.
There were no spectator seats, so they found an empty patch of grass and made themselves comfortable on an old wool blanket spread on the ground. Pony’s legs were stretched out in front of him, Soda’s head pillowed on his lap. Darry sat cross-legged by Soda’s feet, leaning back on his hands.
The sun was high in the cloudless sky, which meant that Soda had to squint to look up at his brothers as he asked, “When was the last time y’all went to one of these?”
Darry shrugged. “Prob’ly the last time we all came together. Couple summers ago, maybe? Definitely before Mom and Dad died.”
“Same here,” Pony added.
“What about you, little buddy?” Darry nudged Soda’s shin with a foot.
Soda pursed his lips, hesitating. “Are you asking as my guardian or my brother?”
Oh, Glory. “Brother,” he responded hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
Soda’s grin was as blinding as the midday sun. “Last month.”
Darry groaned, running a hand over his face. “You know how I feel about you taking these kinds of risks, Soda, especially without me there. One run-in with the fuzz and —”
“We could get in trouble with the state. I know, I know,” Soda interrupted. “You told me a thousand times not to come to the races no more. But that was Guardian Darry speakin’, and right now, you’re Brother Darry, so I don’t wanna hear it.”
Darry decided to zip his lips for the time being. They’d revisit this conversation another time — preferably a day when his authority remained intact. For now, he decided he might as well enjoy the electric atmosphere of the race and the feeling of warm sunshine on his skin after such a long winter.
After a few heats, Soda began to grow restless. Once he got bored with picking at a hole in Pony’s jeans and tearing pieces of grass out of the ground, he fished some quarters out of his pocket and headed down the hill to a small table where a man with a notebook and a cash box sat accepting bets.
Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “I ain’t gonna listen to him complainin’ about bein’ broke no more if he’s gonna waste all his money on gambling.”
Darry wasn’t too worried; he knew his brother wasn’t carrying more than a couple dollars in pocket change. He bit back a smile and nudged Pony’s shoulder. “Hey, who knows? He could get lucky. We could be rich by the end of the night.”
It turned out neither of their predictions were correct. Soda bet a dollar on a rusty old Chevy and, to everyone’s surprise, saw a tenfold return. He promptly lost all nine of those hard-earned dollars by pushing his luck with a bright orange Camaro that turned out to be driven by a complete moron, bringing his winnings back to zero. Soda didn’t seem to care much either way; he was in it for the pulse-pounding anticipation, not the money.
When the first round had nearly finished, a late entrant pulled up to the strip and parked haphazardly. Darry squinted his eyes — he knew that car.
“Steve?” Darry asked, incredulous. Watching the races was one thing, but getting behind the wheel was another. The kid was practically asking to crash and burn.
After exchanging a few words with the race’s organizer and handing over his entrance fee, Steve ambled up the hill toward them. “Ready, Soda?” he asked once he was within earshot. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Ready for what?” Darry asked, before realizing. Horror turned his blood to ice. “Oh, no. You are not —”
Soda slapped a hand over his mouth. “Before you say anythin’, remember you’re my brother today, not my guardian. Plus, Steve and I have done this loads of times, and his car ain’t even got a single scratch.”
Darry slapped his hand away. “Loads of times?!” he spluttered.
Ponyboy snickered, enjoying this way too much. “Told you he wouldn’t take it well,” he told Soda.
“You — you knew about this? And you didn’t tell me?” Darry elbowed Pony in the ribs.
“Hey, don’t get mad at the kid. It ain’t his fault. I bribed him with my old comic stash if he promised to keep his trap shut.” He shot Pony a goofy wink.
Darry couldn’t believe it. How could all of this have been going on right under his nose? And after all he’d done to keep his brothers safe?
The other boys just laughed. “Okay, see y’all later!” Soda exclaimed. “I’ll buy y’all dinner if we win, how ‘bout it?” And with that, he took off down the hill, arm-in-arm with Steve.
Darry pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Despite his fears for his brother’s safety, he knew that Soda deserved the chance to engage in some childish antics before he turned eighteen later that year. His brother wasn’t an idiot; Darry knew he’d probably be fine. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
As they watched the next heat, Ponyboy lit a cigarette, taking a drag before holding the carton out to Darry, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.
Darry had never really been a smoker. He indulged every once in a while back in high school — mostly to fit in with Paul and the other guys — but valued his health too much for it to become a habit. He hadn’t taken a single puff since before his mom and dad died, but he couldn’t deny that a cigarette sounded good right now.
“Alright,” he conceded, giving in to temptation and grabbing a cig. Ponyboy’s shocked expression told Darry he wasn’t actually expecting him to accept, and he was privately pleased he’d managed to surprise his brother. “You see what you’re doin’ to me? Makin’ me take up smokin’ to deal with the stress of raisin’ you two knuckleheads,” he grumbled, but without malice.
—
As it turned out, there was no need to be nervous. Much to Darry’s relief, his brother made it through in one piece, and he and Steve even placed third overall, bringing in a hefty prize of fifteen dollars. Steve kept ten — he’d been the driver, after all — and gave five to Soda as thanks for his “navigational support,” despite the track being a straight line.
As the three of them made their way back to the truck, Soda slung an arm around each of his brothers. “Alright, boys. How’s about we pick up somethin’ greasy and unhealthy for dinner?”
“Burger Bar?” Pony asked, hopeful. Fast food was a rare treat at their house.
“Sounds good to me,” Darry agreed.
The boys cheered. “Race you to the truck!” Soda yelled, then took off running. Only Sodapop would think to instigate a foot race after spending an entire afternoon speeding down the strip, Darry mused. There was never enough action for him.
Ponyboy won, of course. The kid was faster than anyone Darry knew. Darry didn’t do too shabby, though, reaching the truck only a couple of seconds later. Despite his head start, Sodapop came in third — again.
“Can I drive?” Soda asked, panting.
Darry ruffled his hair, then climbed into the driver’s seat. “In your dreams, Pepsi.”
—
Darry allowed himself to be cajoled into letting everyone eat their burgers on the couch. Their mama would’ve never allowed it, but today, he was nothing more than their brother, so he didn’t see the harm — as long as Ponyboy didn’t lose any fries between the couch cushions.
While they ate, they watched an episode of the new Batman show. Darry thought it was kind of corny, but Ponyboy and Sodapop loved it. After that, they switched between Perry Mason and Bonanza.
By the time an old western movie came on, their wrappers had long since been discarded, and Soda’s milkshake cup was slowly dripping onto the coffee table. Darry would clean it up in the morning; he was too sleepy and content right now to care.
It was nearing bedtime — after all, they had school and work early in the morning — but they had already gotten sucked into the show, so Darry decided to let it slide, just this once. They could all go to bed early tomorrow night to make up for it.
During a commercial break, Darry got up and headed to the kitchen to make some Jiffy Pop and grab a beer. When he returned, he plopped on the couch between his brothers instead of his usual spot on the recliner so all of them could reach the big bowl of popcorn.
The three of them watched, transfixed. They had inherited a love of westerns from their dad, who’d always wanted to be a cowboy and never missed the chance to bring his boys to the theater to see the newest John Wayne movie.
At one point in the film, the dashing outlaw on TV took a sip from his flask before letting out a ferocious yell and charging into battle atop his noble steed.
“Man, he sure is tuff,” Ponyboy remarked.
“Too bad you aren’t as cool as him,” Soda teased. “You ain’t even old enough to drink yet.”
“Neither are you,” Pony shot back. He threw a piece of popcorn at Soda, which he delightedly caught in his mouth.
Pony turned to Darry then, gesturing to his beer. “Hey, Darry, can I have a sip?” he asked shyly.
Darry raised his eyebrows. “You look mighty young for twenty-one, little buddy.”
“Just one taste, please?” Pony whined. “You were sneakin’ sips of Dad’s when you were my age. Plus, ain’t it a big brother’s job to do stuff like this?”
He had a point. If it were any other day, he would’ve refused, but today was special. He was unencumbered by the responsibilities of being a parent. “Alright, but just one sip, savvy? And if I hear about you drinkin’ on your own before you’re at least eighteen, I’ll skin ya.”
“Aw, baby’s first beer!” Soda hooted, as if he didn’t avoid the stuff like the plague. Soda didn’t need alcohol to have fun; he had the rare ability to get high on life.
Ignoring his brother’s jab, Pony grabbed the bottle and took an enthusiastic swig. “Blech,” he exclaimed, pulling a face and immediately shoving the bottle back at Darry.
Darry chuckled; he’d expected it to go something like this. “So, how was it?” he asked, taking a leisurely sip of his own.
“You don’t gotta worry about me doin’ that again for a long time. Maybe ever,” Pony reassured him, face still scrunched up.
“I’m glad to hear it.” And he was — it was one less thing for him to worry about.
Pony shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth to cover up the awful taste. “Golly, can you believe Two-Bit downs that stuff like water?” he asked, voice garbled around a mouthful of popcorn. “He musta burned his taste buds off or somethin’.”
“Or somethin’,” Soda echoed, waggling his eyebrows, which made Pony laugh.
“Shut it, will you? I’m tryin’ to watch the movie,” Darry complained, mock-serious. It sure was nice to be able to annoy his brothers like he used to.
“It’s a commercial break,” Pony huffed, and Darry didn’t even need to be looking at him to know he was rolling his eyes. He settled in anyway, shoulder pressed against Darry’s.
It wasn’t long before the three of them were nodding off, the dim glow of the black-and-white movie casting dancing shadows around the living room. Darry was just awake enough to punch the button on the remote, turning the TV off before he drifted to sleep.
—
Darry woke with a start around 1 a.m. It took him a second to get his bearings, but once he realized he had a brother slumped against each shoulder, he smiled to himself. As much as he’d like to stay in this little bubble forever, he knew that sleeping upright on the couch all night would be murder on his back.
“Rise and shine, boys. Time for bed,” he murmured, jostling them slightly.
Soda made a noise that sounded like Hnnngghh, while Pony mumbled, “Five more minutes.”
“Y’all can have five more hours if you get up and go to sleep in your bed.”
“You ain’t the boss of me,” Soda argued, but any heat behind his words was lost in his enormous yawn.
Darry patted his back. “It’s past midnight, which means I’m back to being your guardian. So yeah, I am the boss of you.”
Pony stretched, grunting, and made to stand up. “Well, it was fun while it lasted. C’mon, Soda.”
“Wait a sec,” Darry said, pulling his brothers close with an arm around each of them. “I just wanted to say thanks for such a fun day. I sure needed it.”
“Aw, you’re welcome, Dar,” Soda replied, giving him a squeeze in return.
“Yeah, we had fun, too,” Pony said before patting Darry’s leg and standing. He reached out a hand to Soda to pull him up, which Soda gladly accepted.
“‘Night. Love y’all,” Darry called as they retreated down the hall. His brothers echoed the sentiment before disappearing into their room.
Darry stood up, stretched, and figured he might as well head to bed, too.
Well…maybe he’d hurry and clean up the milkshake drips on the coffee table first.