It was a rare Friday night where nothing had gone wrong—no trouble with the Socs, no yelling from the neighbors, and no chores left hanging over their heads. Darry had just finished his last class of the week and was lacing up his boots, his worn letterman jacket slung over the back of the couch. He was heading out with a few guys from the football team to hit a burger joint and maybe catch the last half of a drive-in movie afterward. Sodapop, practically buzzing with energy, had begged to tag along, saying he wanted to meet some of the guys and hear more about the team. Darry figured it couldn’t hurt. Sodapop could talk his way into anything anyway.

But just as Darry was grabbing his keys, a quiet voice came from the hallway.

“Can I come too?”

Darry looked up to see Ponyboy standing there, arms crossed, trying to look older than eleven but still wearing socks that bunched at the ankles and a t-shirt two sizes too big. His big green-gray eyes were hopeful—too hopeful—and Darry hesitated. The place they were going wasn’t exactly a kid hangout, and he’d already told the guys it’d just be him and Sodapop. But one glance at Ponyboy’s face, and Darry sighed.

“You sure you wanna come, kid?” he asked, tossing the keys from hand to hand.

Ponyboy nodded quickly. “Yeah. I just wanna hang out with you guys.”

Sodapop grinned, throwing an arm around his little brother. “He’ll behave, promise.”

Darry shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Alright, but you stay close. And if Coach starts talkin’ trash, don’t repeat any of it to Two-Bit, got it?”