Chapter 5

                                    

                                          
"What's for dinner?" Sodapop asks as he comes loping into the kitchen, fresh from work, his shirt stained with oil, his shoes already kicked off.
"Is that all you have to say to me?" I put a hand over my heart and pretend to be hurt. "Not even so much as a hello to the sister that prepared you a nice homecooked meal?"
Sodapop walks over to the stove and lifts the lid on the pan, peering inside. "Ain't this the soup Ms. Mathews brought by the other day?"
I shrug one shoulder and grin at him. "I didn't say whose home it was cooked in now did I? And I did prepare it."
Soda leans against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at me.
"I did!" I defend myself and playfully poke him with the spoon. "I poured it in the pan and everything." I pretend to wipe sweat off my eyebrow. "It was really grueling."
He put his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay okay, you win. I will never doubt your cooking skills again. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go wash this grease off."
While Sodapop goes to shower I turn my attention to throwing together a few ham sandwiches to go with the soup. Dad always liked to say if there was no meat then it wasn't considered a real meal.
I begin to get a little worried that Ponyboy wasn't back yet. I glance at the clock hanging on the wall and see it's past 7. That makes me nervous. Not because I think he's hurt or anything. I'm sure he's fine. I just don't want to have to be the one to tell Darry that he's out after dark and I have no clue where he is.
Darry worries more about Ponyboy than he does me and Sodapop put together. I don't blame him much though. Ponyboy was born with a lot of things, but common sense sure wasn't one of them. One time he even pulled out his switchblade right there in the middle of class. Luckily most teachers like Pony and he was just giving a warning.
I inwardly cringe when I hear the truck tires on the pavement. Shoot, Darry was home. I try to go through a list of places that Ponyboy could be that Darry wouldn't mind. Library? No, it closes at 6:30 on weekdays. The movies? Yes, the movies that could work.
The soup starts to boil, and I reach over and switch off the stove just as Darry comes into the kitchen.
"Hey, kiddo," he greets me, dropping heavily into the kitchen chair. "Dinner about ready? Sure, smells good."
Plastering a smile on my face I turn towards him. "It's just about done. How was work?"
"Fine, fine."
Please don't ask where Ponyboy is. Please don't ask where Ponyboy is. Please don't ask-
"Soda and Pony home?"
Drats.
"Ummm..." I turn back to the soup and pretend it needs more attention than it actually does. "Sodapop is. He's in the shower and Ponyboy...I think he went to the movies."
"You think?"
"Am I my brothers keeper?" I ask, trying to dodge the question.
"That's from Shakespeare, right?" Sodapop questions, coming into the room, his hair damp from his shower.
I nod slowly. "Yeah, Hamlet said it."
Either Soda didn't get my sarcasm or chose to ignore it. "Hey Superman," Soda playfully punches his shoulder. "How many houses did you roof today? 50?"
Darry grins tiredly. "Sure, feels that way."
Darry was always carrying more than one bundle of roofing up the ladder at a time. If something could be done in two hours, he wanted to get it done in one. He's always been like that. Trying to do more than humanly possible. I imagined that was one thing that was never going to change about him.