On a Long Road

1. The Theme

Holding the receiver tight against my ear, I swear I can hear their voices. If they just pick up, it will be like they are here, with me. If they just pick up, maybe things will be like they should, maybe things will be okay. Maybe it will erase what happened.

But they don't pick up.

Signals go by and I count them. Five. Eight. Ten. Seventeen. Hundreds. I close my eyes. They don't pick up and I'm still alone.

xXx

"So what he probably meant by this poem was-"

The bell rings and interrupts him in the middle of the sentence, and Mr. Syme quickly raises a hand, showing he has one more thing to add to today's lesson. Not that anyone cares, they all start to chatter and collect their stuff, moving around and toward the door.

"Kids," Mr. Syme says loudly to be heard over the noise they make, but I seem to be the only one paying attention. I have to. My grades have been falling - fast - and if I don't try to do anything about them, Darry will kill me. Not literally, but that doesn't matter. It will be a boring christmas break for me when my report card shows up in the mail box, even though I guess he already knows how I'm doing in school these days. It has been harder keeping secrets from Darry after all the things that happened. Sometimes it feels like he has his eyes on me constantly.

"Pages 80 to 85 for homework which is due tomorrow, and answer the questions I wrote on the black board!" Mr. Syme points at it, and then his eyes find mine where I sit in the front row. "Ponyboy, can you please stay for a minute?"

I sigh when I stand and start to walk up to the teacher's desk. Mr. Syme looks at me while pushing his glasses back up on his nose, and then busying himself with putting papers in a stack. Mine is somewhere in there too, a quick quiz at the beginning of the class, and I just know I failed it. I didn't know any of the answers at all.

"Go sit down somewhere, " Mr. Syme says, gesturing out into the soon empty classroom.

I go back and take my seat again, wondering what's going on, but then I see him pick up a blue notebook from the upper drawer in the desk. My heart speeds up. It's my theme. He promised to pass me with a C if I wrote a good semester theme. God, I really hope I made it okay, I don't know what I'll do if it's not good enough. What if it's not? I squirm in my seat - Darry will be so disappointed. English is my best subject, and all I have gotten in the past is A's.

When the last student has disappeared through the door, Mr. Syme rises and walks up to it and closes it. Then he takes the seat next to mine, putting the notebook down in front of him.

"I want to talk to you," he says, "about this." He taps it with a finger.

"Okay."

"Is this... what happened?" He sounds a bit sad. "Is this the truth?"

I nod silently at his questions, feeling nervous.

Mr. Syme flips through it, and I notice he has put paper clips on some pages. He stops by the first one, finds a sentence with his index finger.

"It says here your brother hit you?"

His words surprise me, I wasn't expecting them at all. I sit up a bit straighter.

"Um, it wasn't -" I start, but he interrupts me.

"Is it true? Ponyboy?"

I frown slightly.

"Yeah, but it wasn't his fault," I say. My mind starts to work frantically. Why is he bringing that up? I thought we were supposed to talk about my grades.

"It says here... slapped me so hard that it knocked me against the door. Ponyboy, did that happen?"

I swallow, glancing up to meet his eyes. His expression is serious, and I can see anger behind the sadness. But not anger towards me. I remember Johnny, how he turned up all black and blue now and then, how no one ever cared or asked him what had happened. How can this be such a big deal? What Darry did was nothing compared to that.

"He didn't mean it. He was just worried." I say the last with emphasis. Then I add, "I broke my curfew."

"So you think it was okay for him to hit you because of that?" Mr. Syme asks me gentle. I glance at him again. His tone is like Dad's, at the times he tried to soothe us when we were kids, when to show us things was all right. When there was no need for us to worry.

"Um. No."

"Has it happened before? After?"

"No, just that one time. Darry's not an abuser or anythin'... he's good!"

Mr. Syme doesn't say anything, just flips through the book to another page. I turn my gaze to the clock on the wall. My next class will begin in a minute, and if I don't start to move soon, I will be late.

"Mr. Syme-"

"Don't worry, Ponyboy, I'll give you a hall pass, okay?" He points down at the new page. "You had a big fight between... uh, the boys living on the west side, and your brother let you participate?"

"I would have anyway," I say flatly. "It wasn't Darry's decision, really."

"But he's your guardian?"

"Yeah..."

"Then it was his decision." He leaves no room for arguments.

I clamp my mouth shut. I'm not really sure what's happening here, but I know I don't like it.

"You're fourteen, and the other boys were sixteen and over, bigger and stronger than you. Not to mention what just had happened to you, and you just got out from the hospital the day before. A good parent wouldn't allow that. A good parent protect their kids."

I place my hands in my knee to not show how they start to shake. God, I want a cigarette. I close my eyes for a brief moment, wishing I was anywhere but here. I shouldn't have written the stupid theme. This is not going well. This is not what I meant when I wrote it.

"Ponyboy, what do you say about all this? You're friends with criminals, you smoke all the time, your brother doesn't lock your door at night so anyone can come into your house-"

"But I wrote why," I hurry to say, finally hearing something I can defend. "And we don't have anythin' to steal either."

"Well, that's another thing that worries me," Mr. Syme says. "You're pretty thin, Ponyboy. You get enough food at home?"

I stare at him. "Yeah! I mean, food's never been a problem or anythin'. Sure, we ain't rich but Darry gets me what I need, I promise!"

Mr. Syme sighs. "I'm not so sure about that," he says.

I can't believe this!

"My family is just fine and me and my brothers do well so you don't have to ask me these things," I force out, starting to pick up my things. My books, my pen... where is my pen? "Can you please give me the hall pass? I have to go to class." I refuse to look at him, so I just stare straight forward.

In the same time the bell rings, and I throw a glance at the door. I hate being late, getting all looks on me when I step inside the classroom.

"I'm sorry, but I do care. You're an excellent student, Ponyboy, and I feel I have to do something to help you."

I breathe in through my nose and try to calm down. I know it won't help me if I start to yell at him. I have to show him that I'm all right, that there's no need for him to worry about me. I turn to him again and try to smile.

"That's nice and all, Mr. Syme, but the state is already checkin' up on us. We had this hearing thing and the judge said I got to stay with Darry. It says in there too." I nod at the notebook.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But did they knew all this? Did you tell them about the abuse? About the kick in your head? The gun your friend gave to you? Well, everything that's going on in your house?"

I feel speechless. The abuse? Is that the way he sees it? But he's wrong - there's no abuse. No teacher cared about Johnny, but one little slap in my face will make everyone go nuts? I hug my books against my chest.

"I don't think your brother's acting like a parent should do, and maybe you all need some help to-"

I glare. "We don't need your help! Everything's fine!"

He still looks sad. "I'm sorry," he says. "But it is my duty as a teacher to report any suspicions of mistreatment against my students."

My eyes widen. "No! Please don't! I promise, Mr. Syme, it's not like I wrote it. It's just a stupid theme!" I almost stumble over the words. "It's not really what happened. I-"

"I have already made the call, Ponyboy. And I gave them a copy of this too." He picks up my notebook. "I just wanted you to know why I had to do this. I can see that you are upset, but one day I'm sure you will thank me for this. You will understand when you're older."

I sit frozen-like in my seat as he rises and walks back to his desk. He takes a paper, assuming the promised hall pass, but I don't want it. I don't care.

I scramble to my feet so fast my chair almost gets knocked to the floor, and I head for the door before Mr. Syme can stop me.

"Ponyboy," he says as I reach the door handle. I just give him once glance before I push the door open with my shoulder.

I don't run to my next class. First I think I should head for the restroom, but a second thought takes me to my locker. I throw in my books and take my jacket and backpack, and then I run down the hallway and out through the front doors.

It's raining, but I barely notice. All I can think of is getting home, so Darry can fix this. I'm sure he can. He can call Mr. Syme and explain, this is all just a misunderstanding, and he will call our social worker and make sure nothing is going to happen. They can't do this to us! After all that happened, with Johnny and Dally. They won't take me away from my brothers.

They can't.

xXx

Soda has his arm thrown over my shoulders. We sit in the couch in the living room while Darry paces the floor. He stops and turns to face me, from the other side of the coffee table.

"What exactly did you write, Ponyboy?" he asks me.

"I don't know." I drag my arm over my eyes. I try hard not to cry, but it's not very easy. "Everythin' I guess."

"Everything what? That I beat you? About our fights? What, Pony?"

I press myself closer to Soda. I'm not scared of Darry's anger - I'm scared of the betrayed look in his eyes. I just realize I threw him to the wolves. But I didn't mean it. I never meant for this to happen. At the same time I told my brothers about what Mr. Syme said, they both looked more worried than I have ever seen them before.

"I - I just... Dar, I just had to write it down!"

"And then you thought it was a good idea to give it to your teacher?"

I sniff. "No. I don't know, Darry." I sniff again, feeling the tears welling over. "It was mostly about Johnny and Dally. I wanted people to know... I didn't think..."

Soda tightens his grip around me. I can feel his heart beating fast.

"Hey, Dar," he says. "Calm down."

Darry just stares at him instead of me.

"There's no need for us to argue about this," Soda continues awkwardly. "Maybe the state won't care. They know about what happened and you got to keep the custody before. You know that."

I don't know if Soda's words soothe him, but Darry sinks down in the recliner. He puts his elbows on his knees and hides his face in his hands. I look up at Soda, uncertain, and he forces out a smile.

"It will be okay, Pony," he says, and I want so hard to believe him.

xXx

The knock on the door comes two hours later, and everything just stops. I drop my pen and look at Darry at the same time Soda turns up in the kitchen doorway, his face pale.

"Shit, what are we gonna do?" he whispers.

Darry's face is hard. "I guess I have to answer it," he says through his teeth, and then he brushes past Soda.

"Is it the state?" I whisper to Soda as he sits down next to me.

"I don't know," he whispers back, but I think we both know. No one knocks on our door. Knocks always mean bad news.

We're silent, trying to listen to the voices from the hall; Darry's strong one, a woman's calm. I recognize it even if I don't want to. It is our social worker, coming to check up on us. I wonder if we really thought this would happen. We have cleaned the house spotless, but I don't think any of us really believed she would come. Maybe we all hoped she wouldn't.

But she's here now, and I can hardly breathe.

"Ponyboy? Soda?" Darry suddenly calls, but his voice is oddly strained. "Come here for a second."

I don't want to, but I follow Soda. Slowly. Our social worker, Ms. West, stands just inside the door, and beside her a man I've never seen before. He's big, as tall as Darry but fatter, and his face is red. I look at Darry. He holds a paper in his hands. They're shaking.

I grip Soda's arm. "No," I say, stopping, knowing. "No!"

Darry turns to look at me. I remember that face, the horrified look in his eyes, the devastated expression. It's the same as the night he hit me, the night I ran away and caused all this.

"What's this about?" Soda demands to know, glaring at everyone. With his arm he pushes me back to stand behind him. He gets it too. "You ain't takin' him!"

"Soda..." Darry says, but then he swallows, unable to say more. He tries to meet my eyes, but I look away. It feels like I'm going to faint. I hear them talking, my brothers, Ms. West, the man, but it's like my brain doesn't register the words. They have no meaning.

I need to sit down.

I feel my knees buckle, and then I'm on the floor, and Soda sits on his heels, holding my face with his hands.

"It will be all right. It will be all right," he repeats, over and over. I take his hands and rip them away from me.

"No, it won't," I say, but the voice doesn't sound like mine.

"Do we need to call the police?" someone, it must be the man, says. "The boy is coming with us, now."

"Jesus!" Soda throws at him. "Give us some fuckin' time, will ya?"

"This is obviously not a good home environment," the man says to Ms. West, but she just gives him a weak smile in return.

"Soda, take Pony to your room and help him pack," Darry says. It doesn't sound like his voice either. Why is he not stopping this? Tells them to go? He can throw them out, lock the door, keep me safe. Keep me home.

Soda tugs at my arm, and somehow I manage to stand, and we walk down the hallway and into our room, clinging to each other. Or maybe it's just me, clinging to him. I look at the window. It's dark outside. I wonder what would happen if I just climbed out and ran. Would they find me?

"Pony, you are comin' back," Soda says, pushing me gentle to sit down on the bed. "You hear me? You are comin' back to us."

What is he talking about? I shake my head. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

Soda sinks down to sit on his knees in front of me, and I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his.

"Ponyboy, listen. You heard what they said."

"I didn't hear it." If I didn't, it might not be true.

"They have a paper sayin' you have to go with them. Some judge took the custody from Darry." Soda sounds toneless. He never sounds like this. "It's just temporary."

"I ain't goin'!"

"If you don't, they'll just have the police come and get you. Please, Pony. Trust me on this. It's better if you just go with them, and we work somethin' out tomorrow, okay? We'll get a lawyer and stuff, until the court date. Darry will get the custody back. I'm sure you'll come home in a week. You can manage a week, right? It will be hard, but we can do it. Okay, Ponyboy?"

He tries to convince himself. But I nod. Okay. Okay, I can do it. I was in Windrixville for five days, I can be in a boys home for seven. It will be all right, as Soda says.

"Hey, Pone, don't cry!"

"I can't help it." I throw my arms around him, and I soak his shirt as I'm bawling against his shoulder. He's wrong. I can't do this and it won't be okay and I don't want to go.

Suddenly I feel another hand on the back of my neck, and I look up. Darry has sat himself down next to us on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely. "There's nothin' I can do. I tried."

"What about Soda?" I sniff. "Are they takin' him too?" I think I can go if Soda can come with me. But their silence tells me no.

Darry stands up and leaves the room, but he's back a minute later with a suitcase. Without a word he places it open on my bed, and then he walks to my closet and starts to pick out jeans and shirts and t-shirts.

"Darry, stop it!" I say. "Stop it!"

"They gave us ten minutes, Ponyboy." He drops the stack in the suitcase, then rubs his eyes with both hands. I hear him curse. "Ten fuckin' minutes."

I don't know what to say. The air has left me anyway, and somewhere I hear Soda telling me to breathe. But I do breathe.

"Ponyboy, listen to me," Darry says, sinking down to my level again. "None of this is your fault. It's mine. But I want you to promise to do as they say, and just... trust us. Don't give them anything to think they're right about this and I'll get you back."

"And if not... if not, then we come and kidnap you, got it?" Soda's eyes are wet. "But there's no if's. Okay, Pone?"

Somehow I manage to nod.

xXx

"I thought we would have to call the police," the man mutters as we step inside the living room fifteen minutes later. Darry carries Dad's old suitcase, with my clothes and books for a week. There is a court date, Soda didn't make that up, and I still have my hopes.

"Where are you takin' him?" Soda says harshly, and then to me, much softer, "We come visit you tomorrow."

But the man shakes his head as he rises from the couch. "You are not allowed to meet or hear each other until court next week."

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me!"

I have never seen Soda so mad. But the man and his red, angry face scares me. I don't know who he is, if he's important to have on our side, and if he is, we're not doing great. The way he looks at us is almost with disgust.

I feel someone step up to me and touch my arm. It's Ms. West. I'm glad she's here at least. She has always been nice to us even if the checkup's have been uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid we have to go," she says. "Darrel, I can call you tomorrow and tell you how it goes."

"Thanks." His voice is hoarse, and the man snorts.

Someone gives me my jacket, and I manage to get it on. The air is cold outside as Ms. West open up the front door, and only her gentle push on my back makes me go forward.

Darry and Soda follow me out to the car. I feel them on each side of me, even if I feel numb. I wish I had climbed out of my window and run, instead of just standing here, watching my suitcase being placed in the trunk, feeling my brothers arms around me as we hug. I don't want to let go.

"Just for a week," Darry assures me. "Next week you'll be home."

"Love you, Pony," Soda whispers.

I can't speak. I can't say anything back.

A big hand on my shoulder forces me to release my arms, and then it guides me into the backseat of the car. The man closes the door, and I place my palm against the window. Soda quickly lies his hand over mine on the other side, leaning down and mouthing something.

I know I shouldn't. Greasers don't, and not in front of strangers, but as the man starts the car and drive away, and my brothers get smaller and smaller on the street, I cry.

A/N please read - This story is a rewrite of my old story Waiting For Sunrise. I wrote that one and a half year ago, and I feel I have improved some since then. I like the plot, but the old story is too short, it's rushed and have too many grammar errors. But I don't want to take it down either, since it's my very first story written in English, and my first Outsider fanfic ever. It's my "firstborn".

If you have read that story, you will probably recognize similarities in this one - but this will be much longer, more detailed, and there will be a lot of changes too. So I hope you can enjoy anyway. And I hope this is worth continuing. Please tell me what you think.

Beta-read by xXxAngel-With-A-ShoutgunxXx

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders and I never will.