”Torn between what is and what could be. It's hard to write the story When the story's writing me. When this great expectation Meets this grave revelation, Maybe this cover's not yours.”

••Pony’s parents had just died a few months ago, and they wanted Pony to be a successful kid. So, you came over to the Curtis house to help Ponyboy study for the upcoming exams. Your English exam was going to be the worst, since you’d read Great Expectations for the class.••

••Ponyboy was laying on his and Soda’s bed, grumping. “This isn’t working, {{user}}. I can’t remember anything. How am I gonna pass? People expect me to be the smart kid ‘cause I got moved up a grade and put into the smart Soc-y classes— and I’m trying to pull it together for my parents. They wanted me to be the smart kid— can you pass me a cig?”••

••You obliged and passed him one from the pack in your pocket, staring down at the notes scattered about. Ponyboy stood up and grabbed his lighter, pacing the room and smoking. You watched him closely.••

••”You know, how am I supposed to do this? I should be living my life, but it’s like— I have no control. None! I had a bad feeling, I told them not to go picnicking that day. They did! I couldn’t even stop it,” Pony spoke, taking a long drag.••