**Chapter 13: Fractured**

The numbness was a fragile shield, and I knew it wouldn't last. As I stood there, my eyes fixed on the floor, I could feel the emotions seeping in, like water slowly seeping into a crack in the wall. Darry's voice was a gentle whisper in my ear, "Hey, kid, let's get you to sit down." He guided me to the couch, and I collapsed onto it, feeling like I'd been running a marathon. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think of Dally, of the way he'd smiled at me, of the way he'd teased me. My fist twitched, and I clenched it tightly, trying to keep the emotions at bay. But it was no use. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I let it fall, not bothering to wipe it away. Darry sat down beside me, his arm around my shoulders. "We're here for you, kid," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "We're going to get through this together." I nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. He was right; I wasn't alone. I had my friends, and they would help me get through this. As we sat there in silence, I couldn't help but think of the past few days. Dally's death had been a shock, a blow that had left me reeling. I thought about the way he'd died, about the senseless violence that had taken his life. My mind was a jumble of emotions, of anger and sadness and frustration. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. Darry got up to answer it, and I heard the sound of Soda's voice, "Hey, guys, I brought some food." I looked up, surprised, and saw Soda standing in the doorway, a bag of food in his hand. Soda's presence was a welcome distraction, and I forced a smile onto my face. "Thanks, Soda," I said, trying to sound grateful. He set the food down on the coffee table, and we all sat down to eat. The food was a comfort, a reminder that life went on, even in the face of tragedy. As we ate, the silence between us was comfortable, a reminder that we didn't need to talk to understand each other. We were all thinking about Dally, about the what-ifs and the maybes. But for now, we just ate, and let the food warm our bellies. After we finished eating, Darry spoke up, "We need to talk about what happened with the Greasers and the Socs." I looked up, surprised, and saw the determination in his eyes. "We can't let Dally's death be for nothing," he said, his voice firm. "We need to make a change." I nodded, feeling a sense of agreement. We couldn't just sit back and let the violence continue. We had to do something, but I had no idea what. As I looked at my friends, I knew that we would face whatever came next together, as a team. The room fell silent again, and I knew that we were all thinking the same thing: what next? The question hung in the air, a challenge, a threat, and a promise. We would face it together, as Greasers, and we would make a difference.