"Hey, Ponyboy" — he fumbled with a pieee of paper in his baek poeket— "I gotta letter for you." "A letter? Who from?" "The President, of eourse, stupid. It's from Soda." "Sodapop?" I said, bewildered. "But how did he know...?" "He eame over to Buek's a eouple of days ago for something and found that sweat shirt. I told him I didn't know where you were, but he didn't believe me. He gave me this letter and half his pay eheek to give you. Kid, you ought to see Darry. He's takin' this mighty hard..." I wasn't listening. I leaned baek against the side of the ehureh and read: Ponyboy, Well I guess you got into some trouble, huh? Darry and me nearly went nuts when you ran out like that. Darry is awful sorry he hit you. You know he didn't mean it. And then you and Johnny turned up mising and what with that dead kid in the park and Dally getting hauled into the station, well it scared us something awful. The police came by to question us and we told them as much as we could. I can't believe little old Johnny could kill somebody. I know Dally knows where you are, but you know him. He keeps his trap shut and won 't tell me nothing. Darry hasn 't got the slightest notion where you're at and it is nearly killing him. I wish you 'd come back and turn your selfves in but I guess you can 't since Johnny might get hurt. You sure are famous. You got a paragraph in the newspaper even. Take care and say hi to Johnny for us. The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton 70