Well, hey there everyone! I wrote this in response to my own challenge posted on the new Outsiders writing forum. Anyone who is interested can find the link to this on my profile. Anyways, the challenge was to write something about one of the boys from the eyes of a stranger. So this was my view. Those of you who follow my stuff will recognize a few of the minor characters, I hope!
Disclaimer: I own anyone S.E. Hinton didn't write about first
On with the shoe!
The Cooler Kings
The first time I met Dallas Winston I was greeted with a glare that would have put me six feet under in another life. He was only fourteen and he had the record of someone twice his age. Prison at ten and looking at a week in the holding cells for public brawling. What really bothered me was how…well, bitter wasn't the right word, but there was something in his eyes that made me wonder if he wasn't already dead and his body never got the message. It reminded me of a few of the guys from the war. You had to see a lot before you got to that point. To see it in a kid...I didn't even think it was possible. Dallas Winston would prove me wrong, on a lot of things, but I didn't know that then.
The first time I met Dallas Winston was over a fight. The kids in Tulsa had no idea how to get along. If they weren't fighting in their own groups, they were fighting each other. Social classes were the main division and it wasn't uncommon for them to go after each other. When we pulled up, sirens blazing and lights flashing, all the kids took off. Except two. One was hitting the other ruthlessly while the other was clawing and gouging along with every other dirty move he could muster in order to get the upper hand. It was as if they didn't even know we were there. Nothing existed beyond their fight, so we waited until they both had worn themselves out enough that we could get between them with no major injuries sustained.
The first time I met Dallas Winston was as I pulled Tim Shepard away from him. Tim had broken his nose and he was swearing every unprintable thing he could think up. Dallas was doing the same, but his actions were coupled with wild kicks and flailing arms. Tim was calm in my arms; far too used to this to be fighting it. Pripich had his hands full as he wrestled the boy to the car and managed to get him cuffed. He would be bruised spectacularly for the next week or so. He learned the hard way that Dallas Winston was a fighter to the bitter end.
"You alright, son?" I asked as Tim squirmed to get away from me
"'Broke m'nose," he muttered, stemming the blood flow with his hands
"Here," I said handing him the handkerchief from my pocket
"Don't be nice to him," Rick growled, "He knows better than to be fighting like this. Serves him right if he got his nose broke by that pipsqueak."
I glanced at where the blonde was glaring furiously back at me from the car and then to Rick Pripich. He was panting from the exertion and I knew he was going to be feeling it for a few days. But he had a point. Tim had both inches and weight on that boy. I didn't know it then, but he was a full year and a half older, as well. I imagined the observation would put Tim into a temper I did not want to deal with, so I made another observation instead.
"That 'pipsqueak' made sure you'll have a nice shiner by tomorrow," I pointed out dryly
"'Bout time som'un did," Tim stated before spitting out blood by my shoes
"Cuffs, now," Rick ordered, pointing a finger at me and then he did the same to Tim "You, shut up."
I took the bloody handkerchief from Tim and blotted his nose once after putting the cuffs on him. He sent me a death glare and I sighed before tossing away the cloth. It had mostly stopped bleeding by that point and I was a little leery to put the pair of them in the back of the same car incase they tried to pick things up from where they left off again, but I knew that Rick was in a temper of his own and he would not want to wait on another car. So I steered Tim to the other side of the car and let him climb in. Rick was already starting the engine, so I sighed and climbed into my seat for one awkward ride back to the station.
The first time I met Dallas Winston he was fuming in the back seat of our cruiser. He was glaring at all of us, particularly Tim who had taken to clearing the blood from his nose by sniffing it back and spitting it on the floor. Rick growled and threatened, but Tim ignored him. He knew the drill. Rick had told him to shut up and he was going to keep his mouth closed until Rick realized he shouldn't have told the kid that if he wanted him to eventually talk. For a kid repeatedly out of Juvenile Correction and flunking out of school, he was pretty canny when he wanted to be. This other boy didn't make a noise beyond a muttered curse or a wince when he struggled with his cuffs and managed to jar something else. I got the impression he was not a fan of having his hands pinned behind him with cold steel, but he wasn't complaining like a few of our regulars often did.
The first time I met Dallas Winston he had no record. He'd never made trouble in this city before and we really had no idea what to do with him. Tim was a repeat offender who would be getting time in the cooler. It wasn't fair to let the other boy off the hook when he had done more damage than Tim had done to him. Something told me the boy had a record from wherever he'd come from. We sat at our desks, watching the boys through the open door as they sat cuffed to the same bench until we dealt with them. If they knew they were being watched, they weren't letting on. It was Rick who finally broke our silent vigil.
"You know they're going to give him to me, don't you?" he growled
I merely nodded. The way things worked around here was that each of us was responsible for a handful or so of the gang kids around here. It was an initiative to straighten these kids out before they got in too deep and ended up criminals. Sometimes it worked, but more often than not it didn't. They always found a way to slip between the cracks because you couldn't be their consciences all the time. Rick had one of his kids overdose last week. It was only natural he'd get Dallas Winston of all people. Maybe the tough, gruff approach would work. I found that it only made things worse between one of my kids and me. Tim Shepard was my newest and I was hoping to keep him out of jail when he got old enough. I liked to think I was making progress. And then he goes and gets caught brawling or stealing. Well, at least I didn't have to fight with him anymore. He knew me well enough to just go with it and everything moved along much faster. I didn't envy the phone call I would have to make to his mother. Evelina Shepard and I were on a first name basis because of how often Tim got into trouble. He had a younger brother who would most likely follow in his footsteps some day and I was sure they'd stick him with me to save another officer the time of getting to that level.
"I'll straighten him out," Rick assured me and I just shook my head
"Good luck," I offered, "That one is a powder keg."
"So is Tim," Rick countered
"Tim is a stick of dynamite. He's predictable and has a fuse to burn out before he blows."
The first time I met Dallas Winston he sat on a bench outside my office door and exchanged dirty words with Tim Shepard while Rick and I argued over which boy was more unstable. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves, so we let it continue. Tim called the boy 'New York'. It was something more to go on. The boy had given us the sole name of Winston when we had asked for it.
"A kid of 14 with the last name of Winston from New York," Rick spoke into the phone a few minutes later as I reached for my own phone and dialed the all too familiar number
"It's Tom."
"How long you keepin' him?"
"Seven days worth," I answered
"Damn kid," she cursed and the conversation was over
There were no pleasantries; nothing beyond what needed to be known. It made me wonder how Tim would act if she acted like a mother to him.
The first time I met Dallas Winston he shared boasts with Tim Shepard. We listened at they shared stories tying to best each other and I knew we were in trouble then. They were smirking and trying to act tough at the same time. They were cut from the same cloth and if they were getting along so well now they wouldn't have too much trouble getting along in the future. I sighed and knew the pair of them would be causing us more trouble before retirement than I wanted to think about. It was bad enough Tim had enough daring ideas of his own without adding on a cohort.
"His name's Dallas. He's Jebb's kid," Rick informed me, hanging up the phone "And he's got a record that challenges some of those delinquents over on Tiber Street."
"His father must be proud," I commented, remembering Jebb Winston, one of our usual drunks "You going to call him?"
"It's Tuesday. He'll probably see him in another six hours or so," Rick waved it off
"What did the kid do to earn his status?" I asked
"Stealing, fighting, gang relations, drug trafficking, jail…"
"Jail, at his age?"
"No, at age ten."
"My God."
"Yeah," Rick sighed, "Something tells me he's going to be bouncing in holding often."
"I just hope he's not a negative influence on Tim."
"Quit worrying about Tim Shepard. You and I both know he's going to end up in jail or dead; maybe both."
"Not today," I pointed out, getting up to take care of our young charges
The first time I met Dallas Winston I learned a lot of things about a boy I was going to know far better than I ever wanted to. The contempt in his eyes for me as I slid the cell shut, the calm façade that he wore like a shield. But he seemed almost relieved to be somewhere familiar. I didn't try to understand it. I just sighed and ran over the rules.
"Any questions?" I asked
"Yeah. Where's m'ball?" Tim demanded, less than articulate with his face swollen the way it was
"You lose control of it this time and I'm not sure Sergeant Wills will bring it back," I told him, fishing it out of the desk
Tim gave me a look that basically told me to shut up and hand him the ball. I did so and made my way to the door.
"What, and I'm supposed to sit on my hands?" Dallas asked with an unimpressed drawl
"Share," Wills suggested from where he was enjoying his lunch at the desk "That or roll up your socks and sit real close to the wall, kid."
Dallas threw him some crude advice that Wills ignored. I signed them in on the roster while they studied each other from opposing cells. Something told me Wills was going to have a long week.
"Are you going to share, Tim?" I asked, watching as the boy fingered the ball thoughtfully
"The Cooler King share?" Wills snorted and I sent him a stern look
"Will it get me outta here sooner?" Tim asked, not looking up from the worn red rubber
"You know it won't do anything but make the time go a little faster," I called back
"Then no."
The first time I met Dallas Winston I was sure there were a hundred little undercurrents going on that I couldn't grasp and should have if I knew any better. I'd just met the kid, after all. All I saw an angry kid whose eyes were too old for the rest of him. All I saw a comraderie building and suspected this would not be the last time they would be locked away like this. Maybe next time or the next dozen they would actually get along better.
But to be perfectly honest, the first time I met Dallas Winston the only thing I knew for sure was that I would need another rubber ball for the newest Cooler King of the Tulsa Municipal Police Department. Everything told me it wouldn't go to waste.
- End
Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted!
See ya in the funny papers!!!
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