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Ponyboy caught Darry in the kitchen right after dinner, while Soda was still clearing the table. His oldest brother was washing dishes, shoulders tense from another long day at work, and Ponyboy almost reconsidered bringing it up. Almost.
"So, uh, Mr. Syme pulled me aside after English today," Ponyboy started, leaning against the counter.
Darry glanced at him, hands still in the soapy water. "You in trouble?"
"No, nothing like that." Ponyboy fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Actually, he wanted to offer me something. The school's starting this tutoring program, and they asked if I'd be interested in helping some kids with English and reading comprehension."
"A tutoring program?" Darry's brow furrowed as he rinsed a plate.
"Yeah. It'd be after school, couple days a week. Mr. Syme said I'm one of the top students in English, and I'm good at explaining things." Ponyboy tried to sound casual about it, but there was a hint of pride in his voice he couldn't quite hide.
Darry set the plate in the dish rack and turned to face him fully, drying his hands on a towel. "Ponyboy, you don't need to be worrying about getting a job. That's my responsibility."
"I know, but—"
"No buts. You're supposed to focus on school, on keeping those grades up. That's your job right now." Darry's tone had that familiar edge of finality to it.
"Darry, just listen for a second." Ponyboy straightened up, meeting his brother's eyes. "It's not about the money. Well, not mostly. Mr. Syme said this kind of thing looks really good on college applications. It shows leadership and academic achievement and community involvement. All that stuff colleges care about."
Darry's expression shifted slightly, but he still looked skeptical.
"And it's only after school," Ponyboy continued quickly. "Two or three days a week, for an hour each time. It won't interfere with my homework or anything. I'd still have plenty of time to get everything done."
"Pony—"
"I want to do this, Darry. It's not just about looking good for colleges, either. I can actually help these kids, you know? Make a difference." Ponyboy's voice went quieter. "Not many people think a greaser's got anything worth teaching. This could be... I don't know. Important."
Darry was quiet for a long moment, studying Ponyboy's face with that look that always made Ponyboy feel like he was being read like one of his English papers. Finally, Darry sighed and crossed his arms.
"You're sure it won't mess with your schoolwork?"
"Positive. I'd drop it in a second if my grades started slipping. Promise."
"And you really want to do this? You're not just trying to bring in money?"
"I really want to do this."
Darry nodded slowly. "Alright. But the second it becomes too much, you tell me. Deal?"
"Deal." Ponyboy couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.
"And Pony?" Darry's expression softened just a bit. "I'm proud of you. That they asked you to do this."
Ponyboy felt his ears go red. "Thanks, Darry."
Three weeks later, Ponyboy came home with an envelope from the school. The whole gang happened to be crammed into the living room; Soda and Steve arguing about a car engine, Two-Bit sprawled on the couch with a beer and a comic book, Johnny sitting quietly in the corner, and even Dally had stopped by, looking restless as usual.
"Mail call," Ponyboy announced, tossing his backpack by the door.
"You gettin' love letters now, Ponyboy?" Two-Bit called out, not looking up from his comic.
"Ha ha." Ponyboy rolled his eyes and opened the envelope as he walked toward the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw the check inside.
"Holy—"
"What?" Soda looked up from his argument with Steve.
Ponyboy stared at the check. Forty-five dollars. For three weeks of work, two days a week. That was more than some guys made in a week of full-time work.
"What is it?" Darry emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.
Wordlessly, Ponyboy held up the check.
Darry took it, and his eyes went wide. "Forty-five dollars?"
"What?" Soda was off the couch in a second, Steve right behind him. They crowded around to look.
"No way," Steve breathed.
"Holy shit," Dally said from across the room, actually sounding impressed. "They're paying you that much to talk about books?"
"Let me see that." Two-Bit snatched the check from Darry's hand, squinting at it like it might be fake. "Forty-five bucks. Ponyboy, what the hell?"
Johnny had moved closer, his eyes wide. "That's... that's a lot of money, Pony."
"How much are they paying you per hour?" Darry asked, his voice strange.
Ponyboy did the math in his head. "Uh, three seventy-five an hour, I think?"
"Three seventy-five an hour?" Soda's jaw dropped. "Pony, I don't even make that much at the DX!"
"That's more than I make roofing," Darry said slowly, still staring at the check like it might disappear.
"Man, I'm in the wrong business," Two-Bit muttered. "I should've paid attention in English class."
"You should've paid attention in every class," Steve shot back.
Ponyboy shrugged, trying to act like this wasn't a big deal even though his heart was racing. "I thought I mentioned the pay before."
"You definitely did not mention the pay," Darry said firmly. "When you told me about this job, you said it wasn't about the money."
"It's not! The pay's just... a bonus." Ponyboy tucked the check back into the envelope, suddenly feeling self-conscious with everyone staring at him.
"A forty-five dollar bonus," Soda said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Damn, little brother."
"The school's got some kind of grant for it," Ponyboy explained. "Mr. Syme said something about federal funding for education programs. I don't know all the details."
"Federal funding." Dally let out a low whistle. "Government money. That explains it."
"So you're making more than me and Steve combined, basically, for reading books with kids?" Soda didn't sound upset, just amazed.
"I'm not just reading with them. I'm teaching comprehension strategies, helping with essays, working on vocabulary—" Ponyboy stopped when he saw everyone grinning at him. "What?"
"Nothing," Soda said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Just funny hearing you talk like a real teacher."
"He's gonna be making more than Darry soon if he keeps this up," Two-Bit observed.
"Don't even start," Darry said, but there was no heat in it. He was looking at Ponyboy with an expression that was hard to read—surprise, definitely, but also something that might have been pride. "How many hours you working a week?"
"Six. Two hours on Monday, two on Wednesday, two on Friday."
Darry was doing the math. "So you're pulling in about sixty dollars a month."
The room went quiet for a second.
"Sixty dollars a month," Johnny said softly. "That's..."
"That's almost what our old man used to bring home sometimes," Dally finished, his voice flat.
Ponyboy shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't really thought about it in those terms. Sixty dollars a month was real money. The kind of money that could help with bills, with groceries, with everything Darry was always worried about.
"Well, hell," Two-Bit said, breaking the tension. "Next time we're short on beer money, we know who to hit up."
"Don't even think about it," Darry said sharply.
"I was joking!" Two-Bit held up his hands. "Mostly."
"This money's going straight into savings," Darry continued, looking at Ponyboy. "For college."
"Darry—"
"Nope. That's what it's for. You're earning this fair and square, and it's going toward your future." Darry's tone left no room for argument. "We're doing fine on bills. This is yours, for school."
Ponyboy wanted to protest, wanted to say that he could help out, that he knew things were tight even if Darry tried to hide it. But the look on Darry's face stopped him. His brother needed this; needed to believe that at least one of them wasn't going to get stuck in the same cycle, wasn't going to spend their whole life scraping by.
"Okay," Ponyboy said quietly. "For college."
"For college," Darry repeated, and finally smiled. "Though I gotta say, Pony, you really buried the lede on this one."
"Sorry?"
"'It'll look good on college applications,'" Soda mimicked in a high voice. "'It won't interfere with my schoolwork.' You didn't mention the part about making more money than the rest of us combined!"
"I said it wasn't about the money," Ponyboy protested.
"Yeah, but you could've at least warned us you were about to become the Curtis family breadwinner," Two-Bit added.
"I'm not—"
"Just wait till word gets around that Ponyboy Curtis is raking in the big bucks as a tutor," Steve said, grinning. "Every greaser in town's gonna want to hire you."
"To teach them how to make money teaching," Dally said dryly. "That's a pyramid scheme, Steve."
"It's called being smart about it—"
"Alright, alright." Darry held up a hand. "Let's not turn this into a whole thing. Pony's doing good work, getting paid fairly for it, and that's the end of it."
But Soda was still shaking his head, an incredulous smile on his face. "My little brother, the big-time tutor. Who would've thought?"
"Mr. Syme, apparently," Ponyboy muttered, but he was smiling too.
Johnny caught his eye from across the room and gave him a small, genuine smile. That meant more to Ponyboy than all of Two-Bit's jokes or Steve's amazement. Johnny understood what this meant; not the money, but the fact that someone saw something in Ponyboy worth investing in. Worth paying for.
"So," Dally said, leaning back against the wall, "when do we get to meet these kids you're teaching? I want to see what forty-five dollars of tutoring looks like."
"Never," Ponyboy and Darry said at the same time.
Everyone laughed, and the tension dissolved completely. The conversation drifted to other things: Two-Bit's latest scheme, a fight some Socs had started across town, whether Soda could beat Steve in arm wrestling.
But later that night, after everyone had left and Soda had gone to bed, Darry found Ponyboy at the kitchen table with his homework spread out.
"You know," Darry said, sitting down across from him, "when you first told me about this tutoring thing, I almost said no just on principle. Didn't want you taking on too much."
"I know."
"But you were right. About the college applications, about having time for it." Darry paused. "And I'm glad you did it. Not because of the money (though that'll help come application time) but because you earned something here. Something that's yours."
Ponyboy looked up from his algebra homework. "Thanks for letting me do it."
"Thanks for caring about something besides just getting by," Darry said quietly. "That's more important than any paycheck."
He stood up, ruffled Ponyboy's hair in that way that used to annoy him but somehow didn't anymore, and headed toward his own room.
Ponyboy sat there for a moment, looking at the envelope with the check still sitting on the table. Forty-five dollars. Three weeks of work. Six more weeks until the semester ended and he'd get another check.
It wasn't about the money, he'd told Darry. And that was true.
But it didn't hurt that the money was there anyway.
He smiled to himself, tucked the check back into the envelope, and returned to his homework. Tomorrow he had two kids to tutor after school; one struggling with reading comprehension, the other trying to write a persuasive essay. Both of them looking at him like he had answers, like he could help them understand something they'd been fighting with for weeks.
It was a good feeling.
Worth every penny