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"You know, Soda, you ain't much of a good influence."
He snickered under his breath, holding a cigarette to his closed lips, smoking flowing out his nose. When Soda laughed he had a certain genuineness to him that I adored – crinkles by his sharp eyes and lines that curled around his mouth. When I thought of Soda, it was hard to see him without a smile. I always wondered how somebody could be so happy all the time.
"Yeah, skipping class and smoking it up under the bleachers. Classic," he said, a puff of smoke billowing from his lips.
Yet again we booked it out of the halls of the school before the bells for English class could ring. It was a weekly thing at that point, nearly five weeks having passed since we'd gone to Buck's party.
"The sunrise this morning was real nice. Shades of blue, pink, all that. God, it looked so nice, like cotton candy or something."
Soda was somebody I could talk to about things like that. He enjoyed the simplest things in life, I couldn't understand why we weren't closer sooner, given how long he had been friends with my brother.
"Ponyboy likes those sorts of things, you know. I think he'd appreciate it if he knew he had more people to talk to about it with. Sometimes I wake up to find him sitting near the window, his feet kicked up against the sill as he watches the sunrise. It's real nice to see."
"Yeah, Ponyboy's a real genuine guy," I said with sincerity, "you're real lucky to have him as a brother."
Soda nodded. "I know I am. I've always been grateful for my brothers. Man, I'm grateful for the whole gang. I don't know where I would be without them."
I snatched Soda's cigarette and pressed it between my lips. I took a deep inhale and blew out through my nose. "God, me too," I said, averting my eyes to the ground, "I hate to say it, but I miss Dallas. A whole lot."
"We all do. We're just used to it at this point. You haven't been around as much, half the time we've known Dally he's been in prison, ever since he was a kid. He's just too reckless, y'know."
"When I went to see him when he first got locked up, he wouldn't tell me what he did – who he beat up nearly to death. I had to have Steve figure it out. Turns out, he was just defending Hanson. I felt like such an ass hole for leaving angrily."
"Listen Holls." Soda flicked his weed against the gravel, digging his heel into the bud. "You have to understand that Dally doesn't care about much. Hell, he even cares too little about himself. The only person I've ever seen him love is Johnny. He would do anything for that boy. Probably jump in front of a train. The way he acts around you, the way he looks at you... I've never seen him like that. Not even with Johnny. With Johnny, it's different."
