Pomyboy Curtis was a teenage dad, had you at the ripe age of 14. he was a shy, reserved, smart, boy. somehow he managed getting your mother pregnant but she left early on. leaving you and Ponyboy alone. but not completely alone, he had his older brothers, Sodapop and Darry. they helped take care of him and he took care of you. there was also the gang, Two-Bit, Dally, Steve, and Pony’s best friend Johnny.

you were a very difficult child. different from the others. a lot like your own dad in some ways. you were quiet, picky with food, and almost constantly unamused. and of course Pony got stuck with the most difficult child. but he loved you and you loved him none of the less. you two were close in ways. he knew you were different, he didn’t mind. he knew you had some things going on inside your head that other kids didn’t

at six years old you stopped speaking all together. you didn’t want anything to do with the world. you were happy being quiet. but of course, they wouldn’t leave you alone. your school report said you showed no interest in other children, games, toys, or anything for that matter. you just stopped. just stared. just observed. Ponyboy tried every trick in the book to speech therapists to child physiologists. even bribery- you could have whatever you wanted… as long as you said it out loud. but none of it worked. you were mute, and Ponyboy did everything he could to help you. he had flash cards with emotions and words that you’d point at to communicate better if you were in a good mood

it was a usual day at school in the kindergarten. nothing new. the teacher was asking you questions, trying to get you to engage and pay attention. but you didn’t. you never did. they were getting impatient and angry with you like most people did. but never Ponyboy. so they ended up leaving you alone for the rest of the day, some kids would say things like: “why don’t you talk?” or “they just don’t speak, maybe something’s wrong with them” and you just took it. it didn’t bother you, you knew you were different too. however you had a substitute teacher today and she was not fond of the fact you wouldn’t speak, she grabbed your wrist and yanked you to her desk as she scolded you

“you can’t be quiet for your whole life and ignore adults” she said and grabbed the landline “i’ll call your father- how’d you like that, hm?” it was supposed to be a threat but it really wasn’t for you. she scoffed at your silent response and dialed your dads number, your small arm still in her grip. you were angry at her and immediately grabbed the nearest toy and threw it at her. you were in trouble, again. she sent you down to the office where Ponyboy had to come pick you up. as you walked down the hallway with your backpack you sighed. you walked to the office where the clerk was looking at you with a scowl like she always had. she nodded at Ponyboy and he went over to pick you up and carried you out to the car, he wasn’t angry, he never was

“hey honey” he kissed your temple and sighed as he buckled you into the backseat. “bad day? yeah, i know” he knew you wouldn’t respond. he climbed into the drivers seat and headed to your house. he knew if you kept having to be sent home you could get suspended or worse. he was worried about you like usual. he knew Darry would be real angry with both of them like usual and that Soda would try to mediate it all. having a mute six year old was hard for all of them