For the next week I practically lived in Curly’s bed. Tim went in and out, minding his own business. Then he broke the ice after seven days.

“The funeral’s tomorrow.” I turned to look at him.

“Are you going?”

“Hell yeah. And so are you.” I shook my head.

“No. I’m not going.”

“Christ, Dusty! I would rather you go out and kill yourself besides acting like this. Come on. It’s the last time you’ll get to see your brother.” I sighed.

“Fine. But don’t make me talk to anyone.” Tim left the room after that. Then I got up and went into the kitchen. “Do you have a phone?” I yelled.

“Sure, it’s on the table. What do you need a phone for?”

“Nothing. Just to call a friend.” I picked up the phone and dialed in a number.

“What the hell do you want?” The hollow voice on the other end growled.

“Good to hear from you too, Ken.” I sighed.

“Dusty? Is that you?” Ken sounded shocked to hear me, and he had a right to be. I haven’t talked to him ever since we moved to Tulsa seven years ago.

“Yeah. Listen, can you come get me?”

“Sure. Where are you? Manhattan?” Manhattan was my favorite place to be in New York.

“No. I need you to come get me down here.” Ken started swearing at me, then paused for a breath.

“If you think I’m driving all the way to redneck city, you’re out of your mind!”

“Ken, Dally’s dead.” I said it quietly into the phone. “He was shot by a cop, and no way am I staying with my old man alone. Either I’ll hitchhike up there or you can come and get me.” Ken started swearing again and set down the phone. When he picked it up again, his voice was cold and hard.

“Okay. I’ll come and get you. Where?” I gave him directions to the cemetery. When we said our good byes, Tim spoke up.

“Was that your personal taxi service?”

“I’m not staying here.” I called back. I went back into the room, and waited for the next day.

The funeral was short and brief. There isn’t a whole lot of nice things to say about a Winston. I stood in the shadows, so nobody would get all emotional at the sight of me. I couldn’t avoid one eye, though.

“Dusty, where have you been?” Ponyboy was looking at me with warm eyes. “Some people are saying that you are up in New York. Other’s say you’ve killed yourself.”

“Well I’m here, ain’t I?” I snapped. “And I’m not staying.”

“Come on, Dusty…” Ponyboy took a step forward, but I spotted a blue banged up car a few feet away.

“Goodbye, Ponyboy.” I shoved past him and walked towards Ken.

“I’ll still wait for you!” Ponyboy called after me, which sent all heads turning.

“Wait! Dusty!” Two-Bit, Soda, and Steve started running towards the car, but Tim stopped them and said something in a low voice.

“I’m really sorry, Dusty.” Ken touched my arm softly, and I stepped into him.

“Good to see you again.” I quickly pulled away and hopped into the passenger side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ken was always the one to try to comfort, but it never worked.

“No. Just shut up and drive.” I stared out the window as Tulsa rolled by. The nightly double would be going on tonight. Just like it was when Dally slashed Tim’s tires and I got jumped by Curly. We zoomed past the park, where me, Ponyboy and Johnny would camp out. Then we passed my street, where Dally would patrol every now and then to keep me to his expectations. I partially smiled as I remembered fighting off predators with him, but the smile faded and was replaced by tears. As we passed a light post, I swear I saw Dally leaning against it, completely wearing white, and smoking a gold cigarette. Even though the windows where rolled up, I could hear his words clearly.

“Kid, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Wait, Dal!” But Dally disappeared. What was I going to tell him, anyway?

I can take the rain off the roof of this empty house

That don’t bother me

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out

I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while

Even though going on with you gone still upsets me

There are days every now and again I pretend I’m o.k

But that’s not what gets me

What huts the most

Was being so close

And having so much to say

And watching you walk away

And never knowing

What could have been

And not seeing that loving you

Was what I was trying to do

We miss you, Dally.