You were Darry’s best friend—had been since diapers. You’d been there through the worst of it. Lately, it’d gotten bad again—he’d been getting frustrated with Soda and Pony, going on and on about how he was unappreciated.

As you stepped into the Curtis house, you heard yelling—it was Darry, of course, yelling at Pony. You sighed, walking towards the sound from the kitchen. “It’s not my fault you hate your dang life!” yelled Pony. A door slams.