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The rocks rolled under his feet, each step as sloppy and uncoordinated as the next. Usually this movement means one of two things in this neighbourhood; they got shitfaced or were jumped, and poor ol’ Darry seemed to be hit by the latter.
I wasn’t known for helping out just any unlucky soul, but this man had always found a way to lend me a hand without even knowing it himself. So when I saw him staggering home whilst taking my own trek home; I crossed the street and wrapped my arm around him.
He paid no mind to me it seemed, not even a slight hint of acknowledgement from him. It was strange, it sure was, Darry was one kind man, supposedly he once dropped everything and helped an old woman cross the street. He was stupid in the head, being like that in a town like this, and this night sure proved it.
His truck was parked up front once we made it back, and I wondered where the hell he was going, and what happened, but I kept my mouth shut as I helped him get up the front steps of the porch.
Judging by the hoots and yells from inside, none of them had a damn clue or worry about their precious guardian. Not that I’d blame them, that group of boys never seemed to get a damned break. First their parents, then Dallas n Johnny. How they could be jumping around and laughing was beyond me.
It all died down as the screen door slammed into the wall, making Darry wince, his body tensing up in my hold. Knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop his supposed headache, I kept on going inside, cursing under my breath when he started to rest his entire weight on me.
“Goddammit Curtis get up!” I tried shrugging him off, but alas.
My yell was what made them get up from the kitchen, and I was met with the faces of the boys Darry took care of as if all were his own.
Two-bit, Steve, Soda, and the runt, Ponyboy.
Hands all flew towards me, grabbing the older man from my grasp. WIth steady steps among Two-bit and Steve, they deposited Darry on the couch, his head reeling backwards with a groan.
“Tim. What happened to him?” The littlest Curtis asked me, his eyes huge and staring at his brother. Soda was gone off somewhere, before the crashes alerted me he was probably getting the aid kit.
My shoulders shrugged before my mind thought of a reply, as well as helping people, I also wasn’t known for being a big talker, unlike the wise-ass Keith and Dallas. “Just found ‘im trying to get over here. Seemed to me like he was about to pass out before I reached the door.”
Then I took in how Darry looked again.
His face was crumpled up in pain, his hair dishevelled to a certain degree, the starting signs of bruises on his face and arms, and not to mention that he was sporting a bloody nose, which he tried to wipe away.
It wasn’t a pretty sight; this realisation only came to me in the bright lights of the sitting room. It made me wonder if I should’ve taken him to my own house and cleaned him up a bit before getting his sorry ass home. Would’ve saved them from worrying so much.
Sodapop then blocked my view, immediately getting to work. He cleaned up cuts and scratches I didn’t even realise were there, making me more inquisitive about Darry’s whereabouts more than ever. Steve must’ve thought the same thing, his voice pulling me out of the worry I didn’t know I was feeling.
“Where the hell did you go off to? We thought you were sleeping.” His tone was short and snippy, as per usual, but there was a rare hint of care in it as well. I didn’t know much about him other than his great car skills, but he’d taught Dallas how to steal hubcaps and I’ll forever hate that fact. Too many of my wheels went without hubcaps whenever we’d get in any kind of scrap.
By then, Ponyboy was gone from my side and already placed a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the table. He would’ve been hanging out with Curly if he wasn’t in the reformatory, there was no doubt in my mind about that. That stupid kid just had a liking to the Curtis; I couldn’t put my finger onto why.
It took around two minutes for me to realise I overstayed my welcome; my duty was solely just to bring Darry home, not to pace around like a man in a hospital waiting room, wondering if his buddy would have to stay the night for observation or not.
My shoes squeaked as I turned my heel, ignoring the nagging voice in my head that told me to stay. I wasn’t planning on stickin’ around at all, but then Darry had to open his dumb mouth and call out my name. It was more like a quiet whine, but I heard it all the same.
So I stayed.
I felt like an odd one out amongst them all, like a puzzle piece from a different box that got mixed up. They all fit in together, albeit they were missing a couple of their own pieces. The three brothers were all huddled up on the couch, the other two on the floor nearby.
Lights were turned off, leaving only the side lamp on as they coaxed Darry enough to get the damn painkillers and keep him awake by keeping the television on, the sound just high enough to keep him from sleeping. He was fighting it; I could tell from the bopping of his head, his baby brother falling asleep on his shoulder probably didn’t help either.
Stretching my legs out from the recliner, I decided it was finally time for me to leave, no amount of begging keeping me this time. The cold wind ran shivers down my spine once I opened up the door, and when I took one glance back in the sitting room, I was met with the hazy eyes of Darrel.
His head bowed down slightly, obviously causing him some discomfort as his eyes crinkled, and his scowl deepened. He was giving me thanks despite his damn concussion.
I bit back my tongue, I wasn’t about to call a man who can barely walk stupid. So instead, I dipped my head back to him and left.
There was only one question on my mind as I kicked a rock across the road; How did good ol’ Darry get hurt?