We greasers already knew we got the short end of the stick. The Socs got money, respect, and bright futures. Greasers got no money, broken families, and we fight to survive. We had all the tough luck, but we had each other, and we thought we would always have each other. Future's always uncertain, but we thought that was for sure.

Then Johnny died.

Ponyboy said it himself, we couldn't get along without him. After Johnny died, it was only a matter of time.

Dally snapped first, immediately. He pretended to care only about himself to act tough. He cared about the gang, but Johnny was the only thing he loved. Even Dally had a breaking point. He wanted to die with him, and Dallas Winston always gets what he wants.

For a time, we were fooled into thinking that maybe–just maybe–we could go on without them. Now, I'm not a believer in fate or destiny, but it felt like something was out there laughing at us. The same thing that dealt greasers the bad card wanted to prove Ponyboy right. The kid said it was like the Fates from Greek myths snipping our cord or something. I don't know what that means. I don't have the brains for school like he does. Dominoes was a simpler picture for me. Johnny was the first domino to be knocked over, then Dally, and the rest of us followed.

Ponyboy was the first to go. The poor kid went through so much and came out of it tougher than ever. For a moment, I was worried he came out too tough until he picked up the pieces of the Pepsi bottle he broke so no one's tires would get slashed. He was so sweet and innocent and young, younger than Johnny even. Johnny said sixteen years wasn't long enough and I screamed that seventeen-year-old Dally was just a kid when the fuzz filled him with holes. We were both right, but fourteen-going-on-fifteen is nothing in comparison.

The rumble was supposed to end everything, but we all knew nothing was gonna change after a skin-on-skin brawl. Socs were still gonna jump greasers, especially when drunk and forgetful, forgetting the terms of the rumble and the trial verdict. What they did remember was Bob's murder, and that's what got Ponyboy Curtis in trouble.

Despite his high IQ, the boy still didn't use his head. Greasers aren't supposed to walk alone in case they get jumped. Steve and I did our best to watch him at school, but since the deaths of Johnny and Dally, he always managed to slip away to be alone. That's how he's always been, but more now than before.

One of those times, he got jumped by Bob's drunk friends. Probably wanted revenge on the survivor since Johnny died from saving those kids. We thought they might come for him. He didn't even last a year.

Ponyboy had gotten out of school long before me. Steve went to the DX with Sodapop while I was stuck in detention again. It was late afternoon when I got out, and Darry, Soda, and Steve clocked out from work. Somehow, like when Johnny got jumped, the gang sensed it happen. We found the poor kid in the same spot Johnny killed Bob, bleeding like a stuck pig. They pulled a blade on him. His brothers ran to him faster than I could swear. Sodapop gathered him into his arms while Darry pressed his flannel shirt against the stab wound, shouting at us to call an ambulance.

Sodapop wept openly, running his hands through Pony's once again dark, long hair and whispering in his ear. Darry remained dry-eyed, but I could tell by his face that he was scared–no, terrified. I heard Steve gag next to me. I was shocked to see his face was pale and his eyes were huge. I never thought him to be queasy, but I think it's because it was Ponyboy; young, golden Pony. I opened my mouth to tell him to call an ambulance so he won't have to see, but he ran off anyways before I could.

I stepped closer. My hands were itching to do something. I wanted to help, but his brothers were already smothering him enough. I jammed my hands into my pockets, missing the feel of my switchblade so I could go murder the Soc that would dare hurt Pony. I wanted to find them so bad, but I couldn't bring myself to leave.

Ponyboy was part of our gang, and that alone was enough. Although Johnny was the gang pet, Pony was still the youngest. He was all our kid brother. After everything that happened, Ponyboy took the spot as gang pet. Even Steve grew to like him better.

When I saw his face, I understood Steve's nausea. I don't have a problem with blood and stuff like that, but seeing it on the kid made me sick. It was different at the rumble where we were fighting fair and proper; this was an attack on an unsuspecting boy. He was probably thinking about the movie he saw last weekend or maybe a girl he had started taking a liking to that he had yet to tell us. They jumped him and dragged him to this spot. Pony hated it here and wouldn't come unless he was forced. Probably threatened to drown him in the fountain again. He wasn't wet, so I knew they just beat him. His face was covered in bruises, cuts and a nasty shiner. Then they stabbed him and left him to die. There was blood everywhere, mixing with the water on the ground.

He was still alive. He was barely conscious, moaning for Sodapop and Darry. Steve came running back and a few seconds later, an ambulance pulled up. Only one person could go with him, so Soda offered it to Darrel.

  "He'll want you there more," Darry tried to argue.

  Soda shook his head. His eyes were red and puffy, and he wiped his nose with his arm. "I'm too much of a mess. You can talk to the doctors and soothe Pony better than I can."

Steve drove the rest of us behind the screaming ambulance. He had yet to utter a word.

Sodapop and Darry were allowed to be with Pony. Steve and I sat in the waiting room, twiddling our thumbs. We tried to smoke to calm our nerves, but a pretty nurse sent a fierce glare our way. So we just sat in silence.

We visited Pony every day. Soda and Darry took shifts staying with him. We spoiled him rotten with books, candy, and Pepsi. We talked about everything under the sun. Even Tim and Curly Shepard visited him with news that the Socs who jumped him had been arrested, but their parents paid bail.

I hated seeing him so small and white against the pillows. He reminded me of Johnny. No one said how much he looked like Johnny. Ponyboy tried to be cheerful, but he was tired and in pain and would sleep often. Soda cried when Ponyboy was sleeping so he couldn't see, but Darrel remained dry-eyed the entire time. Sodapop was the kind to hold on to hope and still be emotional. Darry was the kind to not waste his tears while there was still hope. If his kid brother died, then he would cry.

Both Sodapop and Darry were with him. Darry did cry. Ponyboy was the next domino. Nothing gold can stay.

I wasn't sure if Soda or Darry would be next. The next domino was knocked over just hours later.

I never realized how much like Darry was like Dally until that moment. I always thought they were complete opposites. Dally was reckless, wild, and carefree. Darry was controlled, cool, and responsible. Darry's world revolved around his kid brothers, Ponyboy 'specially despite how much they fought. When Johnny died, Dally couldn't take it and blew up. I never thought Darry would blow up like Dallas.

I once told Ponyboy that Darry was only a greaser because of us. If he had his way, Darry would have worked his way through college and made it somewhere in life. That greaser short end was cruel. Darry–responsible, law-abiding Darry–ran out of the hospital and got himself into trouble. Because it was his first offense, the papers wrote about a grief-stricken brother instead of a hood. He wanted to die, and Darrel Curtis got what he wanted. He ended up like Dallas.

I don't even know if Soda had a chance to hear about Darry. After they took Pony's body away, Sodapop left the hospital. His eyes were dry and unseeing, numb and face pale like a ghost. I think he was headed to his best friend Steve's house. I can't be sure because he never made it there.

No one knows what happened. Some think he was jumped by Socs and didn't fight back. Some say he killed himself by drug overdose. The experts say his heart gave out, but that it couldn't be right because he was too young and healthy. I knew better. His heart died with his brothers. All three of them are buried together next to their mom and dad. The door to the Curtis residence remained unlocked, but no one liked going in there anymore. For the first time ever, the house was quiet.

After that, nothing came as a shock to me anymore. It was only a matter of who was next. Those Fates the kid talked about were cruel to me. They chose Steve next.

It was fitting because he snapped after his best friend died. He became angry and full of hate–more than usual. One day, he came home after having too much to drink. Instead of usually obeying when his old man screamed at him to get out, he fought back. While there was normally a lot of screaming from the Randle residence, there wasn't much beating and crashing. Some neighbors called the police. They found Steve dead and arrested his father.

My name is Keith Mathews. My buddies called me Two-Bit, but my buddies aren't here no more. I'm the last one left. Now it's just a waiting game. Waiting for the last domino to fall.

We thought we would always have each other. We didn't think much about the future, but we thought that was certain. Turns out, you can be certain of nothing when you're a greaser.

I spent my time waiting by drinking booze. I didn't do it for fun or the pleasure neither. The only place I could find comfort for the hole in my chest was at the bottom of a beer bottle. I didn't make jokes anymore, or attend school, or pick up blondies. I just got myself drunk to numb the pain and loneliness.

One night, I was stumbling drunk. Couldn't see clearly. I was walking nowhere. No matter how far I went, I couldn't walk out of Tulsa or my pain. I didn't even feel it hit me. I didn't hear the screams or screeching of tires. I just lay on the pavement, staring up at the night sky filled with stars. My lips curled into a smile and I could only think, Finally.

Ponyboy was right. We couldn't get along without Johnny. The world thought they had us, that they had broken us and held a grasp over our lives. We found a way. We're all together now. All the dominoes had fallen.