Ponyboy Isn't Mature Enough To Shave.

The Rumble is set for seven O’clock sharp. It’s almost 5:00 right now, so I guess I better start making dinner. What shall we have tonight? Soc head with a side of green beans? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Anyways, I decided on making chicken with potatoes and corn...same difference.......
Ponyboy is late for supper. Again. Ah! Finally. It’s 6:00 and he is home.
DINNNNNNEEERRRRRRRRRR!
During supper I noticed that Ponyboy seemed to be unable to eat. I’ll have to force feed him cheese through a tube later while he’s sleeping....
We must now get all primped up. We always get cleaned up and all that jazz before a rumble. Shows them stuck-up Socs that we aren’t just dirty greasers.
"Soda, when did you start shaving?" What the heck kind of question is that for Ponyboy to ask Soda?
"When I was fifteen." Ha. Ponyboy wouldn’t start when he was fifteen too, I was sure of that.
"When did Darry?"
"When he was thirteen....why? You figgerin’ on growing on growing a beard for the rumble?" Ah. I got made fun of a lot for that in school.......
After that I pretty much stopped paying attention. Ponyboy was going on about CosmoGirl or something like that.
What to wear, what to wear?
Hmmm.....do I put on the black T-shirt or the gray one?
Black. Steve is here. Soda and him are playing cards and blasting music so loud I should probably go turn it down. But I won’t. It’s a custom to listen to music pretty loudly, even louder still before a rumble.
"Darry, why do you like fighting?" That from Ponyboy.
"He likes to show off his muscles." Soda sneered cheerily. Time to make a cheesy threat.
"I’m gonna show ‘em off on you, little buddy, if you get any mouthier." Soda smiled slightly to himself, then turned back to Steve. Ponyboy looked a little distant to me.
He’s been through too much lately. He shouldn’t take part in this rumble.
"I don’t think you ought to be in this rumble, Pony." I told him, looking straight into his eyes to let him know that I really was worried.
"How come? I’ve always come through before, ain’t I?" I really should teach him to not say ‘ain’t’. No one people think we are stupid. But he was right. He always came through for us when it came to a fight or the cops. He was a good kid.
"Yeah." I was grinning with pride now, for him, "You fight real good for a kid your size. But you were in shape before. You’ve lost weight and you don’t look so great, kid. You’re tensed up too much." I saw him sink a little, then straighten, and I knew he was trying to get me to believe that he was strong enough mentally to do this. I knew he wanted to fight, even though secretly he doesn't like to.
"Shoot, we all get tensed up before a rumble. Let him fight tonight. Skin never hurt anyone- no weapons, no danger." Soda said, half trying to reason with me, half trying to distract Steve while he extracted the ace from his shoe.
Eventually, I gave in.