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Open at the Close
Ponyboy heard the knock at the door, just as he finished his letter to Darrel. He sighed, placing the ink pen down, pushed in his chair, and answered the knocking, somewhat annoyed by it's continuous streak. "Coming!" He called loudly. It couldn't be Sodapop, for he was at work and usually stayed until six or seven, because he attracted girls like beer draws Two-Bit. Ah, good ole Two-Bit.
Ponyboy missed his wit. He really missed a lot about Two-Bit, since he and Darrel, his older brother, were sent to war. Things got much harder for the other two since Darry had enrolled. Sodapop worked longer, and since Ponyboy was finally sixteen, old enough to get a job as a barista at the local coffee shop, his hours in the summer were no longer spent dillydallying around with Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit's sister, Kendra. They were spend keeping a roof over his, Sodapop's, and whoever decided to stay there's heads. Ponyboy's paycheck was also three cents above minimum wage, which, in Pony's opinion, really, truly, sucked.
As Ponyboy opened the door, he was taken aback. Neither Kendra, nor Steve, or Sodapop were there. Instead, there stood a tall, authority like man, who, reminded him solely of Clark Gable, who played Rhett Butler in "Gone With the Wind". His mustache twitched as he looked down on sixteen-year old Ponyboy with warm, sorrowful eyes. What was going on? Why was this tall man here, along with two others?
"Are you Ponyboy Micheal Curtis, or Sodapop Patrick Curtis?" He asked.
"Yessir, I'm Ponyboy."
"Well, hello, Ponyboy. I'm Colonel Johnathon Sage." Uh-oh, why was a colonel here?
Suddenly, a queasy, tight, feeling engulfed Ponyboy's stomach and intestines.
"I am very sorry to inform you that both Keith 'Two-Bit' Mathews, and Darrel Shaynne Curtis have been killed in war."
Ponyboy felt the cement come up to him very quickly. When he awoke, Sodapop was, for some reason, on the ground, his head clutched in his hands. Why was he doing that? Why was he crying? Why was the family that they had worked so hard to glue back together, falling apart again? After nearly a year and a half of peace of brotherhood of man, everything was falling back apart, like before, before Dallas Winston, a gallant hoodlum who came after Johnny Cade, a dark-haired, came-from-a-broken-home, went in a burning church to save a bunch of small children. Johnny had suffered from multiple burn wounds, permanently disabling him, if he did recover. However, he did not. Johnny's body had just...given up.
Dallas had made a full recovery, though his arm was burned pretty badly, he would have complete use of it in a matter of weeks. Dally had joined them in the economic and social rumble, between the Socs, the richer, more popular kin, and the greasers, the more poor. The greasers had prevailed. Afterwards, Ponyboy and Dallas had went to see Johnny, to tell him the news of their win. Johnny, a few minutes after, had died. Dallas, whom did not love anyone or anything but Johnny, had reached his breaking point. Dallas, in a fury, had ran out. Ponyboy had ran to his home, which, was then occupied by Darry and Two-Bit, and Sodapop and Steve. Steve was Sodapop's best buddy.
As Ponyboy had explained what had happend in a matter of forty-five minutes, a phone call came in. It was from Dallas. He had robbed a store, the police were after him, and he needed a hideout. However, as the remaining members of the gang reached the lot, their designated place to meet, Dallas was shot down in front of them, by the police.
Things had fallen apart then, but in time, they had built back up.
"Soda?" Ponyboy called, hoping to cheer him up.
"Yeah, Pone?" Sodapop sniffled. Ponyboy wasn't sure of where he was at the moment. His mind was very disorted at the time.
"Why are you cryin'?" Ponyboy asked. Sodapop, Ponyboy's only living brother, just cried harder.
"Shhhh, Sodapop, ya'll are gon' be okay." Steve sighed, stroking Sodapop's hair, trying to comfort him. Ponyboy sat up from where he had been placed; on the couch. How did he get there?
"No, we ain't, Steve, and you know it, too! I mean, Darry was sendin' his military support and stuff, but now we ain't got nothin'. We're gon' lose our home an' everythin', man!" Sodapop sobbed, digging his face into the edge of the couch.
Kendra appeared in the doorway, her face tear-streaked and red.
"Two-Bit's dead, too, ya'll." At thirteen, she could