Disclaimer: I own nothing but Jeanie, Shannon and Eddie.
Dancing with an escaped psychopath while wearing your best friend's yellow cape is the most amazing feeling in this world.
Of course, when Andrea told me this, it was specific to her situation only and I barely understood what she meant. I couldn't. I thought for sure I would never understand what she meant, but I do now. The dress code's just a little different.
Since that day not that long ago when I met Steve Randle, I knew he hated my favourite band. I mean, I could tell by the face he made when I pulled into the gas station with a new song of theirs playing loud on my radio that Steve couldn't stand the Beatles. His upper lip had twitched, and I saw him shudder a bit as he walked up to my '56 Dodge Coronet. My first thought had been that the guy was just plain rude, he didn't know me and he judged me right away. My second had been that he was a greaser.
Back home in Toronto we had had greasers too. When Shannon told me that there were greasers present in Oklahoma as well, I was, to say the least, slightly thrilled. Of course, the greaser boys back home didn't pull faces that made them look like sickly pigs when they heard the Beatles on the radio. They were just guys who lifted hubcaps, fixed cars, got into fights and wore leather jackets. Nothing major. But Shannon had said these guys in Oklahoma were hardcore. This guy didn't look all that hardcore though. He actually reminded me of Eddie a little bit.
"What can I do for ya, ma'am?" His drawl was sickly thick and sweet.
I had forgotten just how appealing southern boys were. His tanned skin was gleaming with sweat from the sun and there were dark grease smudges on his face and hands. I could smell motor oil on his uniform as he leaned slightly into my window. I had forgotten how appealing mechanics were as well; he was really starting to remind me of Eddie. I wondered if this guy supported the Vietnam War.
The attendant had crooked teeth and a charming smile. Thick, dark hair that looked like it was paid much attention to, so much attention that it looked like if you touched it and a single strand was out of place, it's bearer would just about have a cow. The thing that struck me as odd though was that the attendant and Eddie both had the same cow lick in the same place, it was so familiar it made me grin in spite of my most recent memory of my childhood friend. The attendant also had on a pair of ripped blue jeans that fit him really nicely, they were probably the only pair he owned that fit him nicely. Eddie's mechanic jeans had been his only fitting ones.
When I realized that I must have looked like I was gawking, I quickly turned my head, a flush came to my cheeks. "Full tank, gasoline, please."
He cocked his eyebrow slightly. I wasn't one-hundred percent sure as to why, but I had a fifty-fifty shot on accent or politeness. I was watching the cars ride by the gas station, some of them were really hot looking cars too, the boys in them were hollering at the attendant. Chanting out dirty names. But mostly, "Greaser!" I heard it many times before, screamed at Eddie and I walking down the street together. It used to get Eddie really fired up; the boy had a temper as short as our friend back home, Graham (He was sixteen and only five foot one.) Eddie used to get so angry at the guys who yelled things at us and talked dirty in front of me that one day, when a guy yelled some extremely rude things at me, Eddie stepped in and bopped the guy in the face. He forgot he was wearing his grandfathers ring and cut the guy. He still had the scar four years later. I learned to be really respectful of guys like Eddie. Really respectful in general.
"That'll be seven dollars and 36 cents."
I handed him the exact change, which he counted. He nodded and started to walk off. I had been digging in the backseat for my map, the gas station had made me take an unnecessary turn onto a street called East 2nd, and I doubted myself with directions. Shannon had given me directions, but I swear Uncle Dean was right when he started calling her wrong way peach fuzz way back when we were kids, which was why I bought myself a map. When I gave up trying to find the darned thing, I hollered out to the attendant.
He looked up and strutted back to my '56. Grinning he told me where I needed to go to get to Shannon's.
"Alright, so you'll turn left out of here onto East 2nd, and you follow it till you're back on the highway, got that?" He asked I as I jotted it down. "Follow that to the I-244 E ramp which is just called 1st street. After that go straight down onto East 1st Street and pull into the left turn lane, that's South Peoria. Travel Peoria till you get to Mohawk Boulevard, where you hang a left, on the left there's North Owasso Avenue East, make a left and follow the numbers." I gave the attendant a warm smile and revved the car. He strutted back toward the station convenience store.
I turned up the radio and started to pull out of the gas station. As I was about to make the left on East 2nd out of the station parking lot, my Dodge stuttered and stalled to a halt. My shoulders dropped and my head fell to the steering wheel. Of course, Eddie fixed the car; never ever trust a greaser.
I tried the key again. "C'mon, Sherry, start up." She wouldn't even give a sputter. "Sherry, Sherry baby, Come out tonight!" I sang while trying to get my car to work. It had been a bad habit Eddie had whenever this thing died out on us. It had been Eddie's first car; his grandfather bought it for him for his 13th birthday. We had been joking around at the movie theater, singing The Four Seasons in the car and Eddie was crawling all over the seats singing, "Oh Sherry baby!" as loud as he could. So, I named his car Sherry.
I crawled out of the car window, (The doors didn't work, lucky break, huh?) and I popped open the trunk to get some tools and a cloth just in case. I put my hand under a ridge at the front of the hood and unhooked the clasp that held the hood down. The insides weren't smoking, that was a good sign, but the car still wouldn't work. I tinkered with some stuff under the hood and closed up. I threw the tools and cloth on the passenger seat and tried to rev Sherry up again. No avail. I got out again and unlatched the hood once more, I looked at it puzzled as to why it wasn't working. I wasn't the greatest with cars or anything, but there seemed to be something missing. But I bet that even if it tried to eat my face off I wouldn't have a clue as to what it was. Four days of driving around would do that to anyone I suppose. I just could not wrap my head around the missing piece. I didn't understand it. What was wrong? I my hands on my hips staring incredulously at Eddie's piece of junk, my baby. That's when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned, it was the attendant.
"You're transmission fell out." He said grimly.
My jaw dropped. "You're kidding me?"
He shook his head. "'Fraid not, ma'am. It's sitting right over there."
I started softly hitting my head against the car. How could my transmission fall out? How could I not notice that I didn't have a transmission?
'This is embarrassing.' I thought.
I moaned after whacking my head against the car a little too hard. Then I winced as I asked the dreadful question, the most awful question in this universe.
"How much will this cost me?"
The attendant bit his lip; I could tell he was sorry to tell me. He winced as the words came out. "Three-hundred and ten dollars and sixty cents." Then he whispered, "Not including taxes."
I was sure that I was going to cry. I would bawl. Three-hundred and ten dollars? That was all my food money. I had to give Uncle Dean that money. I loved Sherry, though. I loved Eddie, and Eddie loved Sherry. I nearly had tears in my eyes.
Food could wait.
"Okay." I sighed in resignation.
Uncle Dean would understand. He had to understand. He knew Eddie, and he knew this car. I could always get a job at a diner or a supermarket or something.
"Um, well, I'll go get someone to help me push this is the garage. Hold on."
"No, I'll help, I'm perfectly capable of helping you push Sherry into the garage."
The attendant stared at me funny like. I felt the colour raise in my cheeks. Nobody knew Eddie's old car's name was Sherry except for Eddie, Andrea and I.
"So, where ya from?" He asked curiously. I smiled; I would have get used to it I guess. My accent was a dead give away to these darn southerners.
"Canada," I smiled. "Please, don't even mention snow to me." The attendant cracked a wide grin. Smart-aleck. "Really, I like warm better then cold. I can't stand heavy jackets."
By two o'clock the sun was really hot, it was probably about eighty-six degrees outside and I was enjoying the nice weather. The attendant - I learned his name was Steve - told me that he couldn't get me a ride until at least eight that night because the brakes were shot on his car and his co-worker didn't have a car; he told me to just bum around and that he would buy me a Pepsi. I swear, I tried to refuse (it's the Canadian in me), but Steve felt bad about making me waiting six hours for him and not being able to get me a transmission until Friday. I think he also felt bad that I didn't have any money to buy my own food because I chose to buy a transmission for my car instead. Of course, I could always get a little money from a bank account my mom set up for emergencies, but the closest bank was a half mile from the gas station in the opposite way from Shannon's house.
Steve had figured out right away why my transmission fell out. I had a automatic pushbutton transmission and I accidentally hit the reverse button while going forward. He even said that sometimes when the buttons get pushed nothing happens and you just keep on driving. I swear, I almost cried again.
After giving up trying the telephone at Shannon's, I decided I wanted to hang around inside.
I stepped into the station convenience store. It looked perfectly normal for a gas station, except for the boy in the back.
The collar of his dirty blue uniform was popped up and his hair was nicely greased back flat with his bangs in the front. His face was nice looking, not as pretty as James Dean, but a little better then Paul Newman. A smile crept onto my face as he danced, snapped his fingers and swiveled his hips just like Elvis and sang into the mop. He wasn't that bad either. 'Do you believe in magic? In a young girl's heart. How the music can free her, whenever it starts. And it's magic if the music is groovy and makes you feel happy jus' like an old time movie. I'd tell you 'bout the magic and the free of soul, but it's like tryin' to tell a stranger 'bout the rock 'n' roll.' He was now down on his knees, proposing to some imaginary girl, playing her own personal Romeo, telling her he loved her.
"I love you," he said to the mop.
In spite of myself, I giggled. This was the one Steve was talking about in the garage, girls think he's cute and but he's actually insane. "I love you, too?"
He turned quickly and I swear he looked exactly like a tomato. His face flushed and he laughed nervously.
"Sorry about that." I said; I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
"It's okay. I shouldn't really, ya know, be dancin' 'round like that, but, well, yeah." He stammered.
"That's alright I do it all the time. I'm Jean Reagan. You can call me Jeanie, though." I said holding my hand out for him to shake.
"Sodapop Curtis. You can call me Soda."
"Cute name."
"Could say the same 'bout yours." Then he squinted a bit. "Where you from?"
"Toronto," He raised an eyebrow and pouted a little. He was confused; he didn't know where Toronto was. "Canada."
His eyes lit up. "Oh! Right, right, right, should've known that."
The bell jingled when the door opened up and two younger looking boys and an older boy closer to my age walked in.
One of the two younger looking ones, shorter and baby-faced with long, greasy hair and a nice tan was hiding in his denim jacket that looked like it was getting a little bit small for him walked in first. He seemed quiet and sort of dirty and rough, like he slept outside. He held open the door for the other two boys who dressed kind of similar.
The second one was slim and young, he couldn't have been over twelve or thirteen, probably around the same age as the first boy. And although he hadn't grown into them, his features were nice. You could tell once he grew up he would be a very handsome man. If you looked good and long though, you could see he looked a lot like the dancing gas attendant that I had just met.
The last one was very tall and broad shouldered with blond hair and blue eyes. He held a hard scowl on his face and walked like he owned the floor. If you really want the truth, the last boy made me physically shake. He looked like he was definitely not someone who I would like to run into in a dark alley. Well, actually he looked like he was definitely not someone who I would like to run into at all.
The two younger boys headed over to Sodapop and I in the back, while the older, scary looking one was grabbing a few soft drinks on the other side of the store.
"How ya doing, Sodapop?" The least nervous looking of the three said.
"Same as I was two hours ago when you last saw me, bud." Sodapop then looked at me. "Hold on though. Did you need any help finding anything?"
"No, actually, I came in here because outside is boring and I'm here for another six hours."
"Oh, car issues?" I nodded. "In that case, Ponyboy this is Jeanie, her car broke down. Jeanie this is my little brother Ponyboy."
I smiled and waved at him. "Nice to meet you."
"And this is my friend, Johnny Cade." Ponyboy piped up.
The other boy said nothing and just gave me a half a nod.
"Well it's been great talking to you charming boys but I think I'm going to grab a Pepsi and find some way to entertain myself. Lord knows I'll need it."
"Right, I'll ring you up."
I trotted off towards the bottles of soda and noticed that the older boy was still back at the soft drinks. I could hear him grumbling to himself, something about money and 'if I ever get my hands around his throat.' Needless to say, I didn't want to know, so I quickly grabbed myself a Pepsi and headed back to the counter. I let Sodapop ring it up and handed him the quarter that Steve gave me before I headed towards the door.
I stepped out into the heat again and began to walk in circles, worrying about all the things I needed to do this week, such as pick my courses for the twelfth grade, help Shannon pick her courses for the tenth grade, unpack, learn my way around town, find myself a job, write Eddie, call Andrea, get my transmission and let my mother and father know I made it here safely.
When I got tired of walking and worrying about these things, I sat and worried until Steve came out and sat beside me.
"Break time?"
"Yeah, if you can call it that."
"Why? How long do you get?"
"20 minutes."
"Oh."
"So, did you find something to do or did ya just sit here and do nothing for five hours?"
I shrugged. "I sat here and thought, so when you think about, I wasn't doing anything productive, but I wasn't doing nothing either."
"Seriously? You just thought? Wow."
"It's not that hard. You just have to have something to think about."
"I don't know anybody who can do that."
"You obviously don't know many girls, or many people who worry a lot."
Steve and I continued talking for the duration of his break and while he was working on the cars. I had found out that he had lived here all his life and that he and Sodapop had been best friends since they were seven. I also found out that he was going into the tenth grade and that he went to Will Rogers High School.
"So, if you know Sodapop, you must know his younger brother then?" I asked.
"Ponyboy? Yeah. 'Course I know 'im. What about Ponyboy?"
"Who is the blond boy he was with?"
"Oh, that's Dally Winston," said Steve. "A girl like you would want to stay away from a guy like him."
"Yeah, he kind of frightens me. He just seems so angry."
"He is. And he can smell fear. I'd watch it if I were you, you don't want to get on Dallas Winston's bad side. It will make your stay here downright awful."
I nodded and continued to watch him work on the cars.
A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated!