"Johnny?" I called, and started when he rolled over and jumped up almost under my feet. "Come on, Johnny, we're running away." Johnny asked no questions. We ran for several bloeks until we were out of breath. Then we walked. I was erying by then. I finally just sat down on the eurb and eried, burying my faee in my arms. Johnny sat down beside me, one hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy," he said softly, "we'll be okay." I finally calmed down and wiped my eyes on my bare arm. My breath was eoming in quivering sobs. "Gotta cigarette?" He handed me one and struck a match. "Johnny, I'm scared." 'Well, don't be. You're searin' me. What happened? I never seen you bawl like that." "I don't very often. It was Darry. He hit me. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't take him hollering at me and hitting me too. I don't know... sometimes we get along okay, then all of a sudden he blows up on me or else is naggin' at me all the time. He didn't use to be like that... we used to get along okay... before Mom and Dad died. Now he just ean't stand me." "I think I like it better when the old man's hittin' me." Johnny sighed. "At least then I know he knows who I am. I walk in that house, and nobody says anything. I walk out, and nobody says anything. I stay away all night, and nobody notices. At least you got Soda. I ain't got nobody." "Shoot," I said, startled out of my misery, "you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang." "It ain't the same as having your own folks care about you," Johnny said simply. "It just ain't the same." The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton 45