A/N: This is just a quick little oneshot I had in mind. I'm leaving the plot open, so I could continue it, but I probably won't. Anyway, it's a random idea that popped into my head. Here goes.
The premise – Sandy hasn't left for Florida, hasn't sent Soda that letter. So it's a bit AU.
Warning - some cursing.
S. E. Hinton owns the Outsiders, as much as I wish I did.
Sandy's fingers trace the phone.
To call, or not to call? That is the question.
Maybe a month ago, she would have loathed the idea of lying to Soda. Her Sodapop. But now ... now's different. A girl's gotta survive.
She sets her mouth and picks up that phone. Dials. Waits. Listens. It'll be easier if Soda picks up –Please, be Soda– but he doesn't. The voice that answers is deeper, slower, calmer. Darry.
"Is Soda there?"
She already feels guilty. It's slippery, wet, inside of her, like water. She shakes it off. Cats don't like water.
Instead of answering –Stupid Darry– he asks a question. Well, half of a question. Her name. "Sandy?" His voice is incredulous, cautious, wary ... With good reason. She hasn't talked to Soda in a week, and that's an all-time high.
He still manages to sound polite.
Damn him.
"Yeah." But she's used to sweet-talking Darry. Getting him to allow Soda just two more hours on curfew. Making him let Soda off when he's in trouble. All that time spent at the Curtis house is paying off, because she can already feel Darry melting on the other end. Darry's just like that.
"He's ... he's in his room."
There's an awkward pause. Darry breathes. In, out. He's measuring his words, she can tell, and she lets him. She can't make him mad, not right now, not when she needs him because she needs Soda.
Darry sighs, and she knows she's won. She listens as he puts the phone down, and she imagines what he's doing. Tramping down the hallway, that cramped old thing, past the bathroom and Soda's old room, and Darry's ... and then Soda's new room, the one he shares with Pony. The door opening. Squeaking while it's at it.
"Hey, Pepsi. Sandy's on the phone." Soda's said he says about as much.
She hears Soda before he picks up the phone. She feels his excitement. It comes in waves.
"Sandy! Oh, babe–"
"Hey, calm down."
Before, there would have been more guilt for treating him like this, but this is what she has to do and so she's gonna do it.
Soda knows something's off – Soda knows everything. "What happened?" Excitement, lessened. Concern, upped.
"Soda, I need to tell you something." True enough. "Can you listen, and let me finish before you ... make judgements?" Sandy tries to play the helpless girl but she already has Soda wrapped around her finger, she knows.
"Of course." She's forgotten how much she loves his voice. She remembers for a second, and then it slips away again.
"Thank you."
A pause.
"Soda, I'm pregnant."
He's sworn not to talk, and so he doesn't – just mutters. Something like an incoherent, 'Oh, God. Oh, shit. No. Shit. No.'
"Honey–" Yes, that's a nice touch. "–it's not your baby. But ... I need to ask a little favor."
"Not mine?" He digests that, and it disturbs him. But he's putty in her hands, and he says, slowly, "Sure." He loves her. He always will, no matter if she took his soul and tore it up. Which she's just about doing.
"Not yours. But..." She trails off, giving herself time to start crying. She's practiced that. It's part of her speech. The tears come, and she smiles into the phone, where he can't see. "Oh, Soda, it was a mistake. It was some guy I just met, and he – I don't know what I was thinking – Soda, I'm so stupid – oh, baby, I'm so damn sorry–"
Why do the lies come so easy to her?
It hadn't been a guy she just met. She knew exactly what she was thinking. She might have been stupid, but she certainly isn't sorry.
But Soda falls for all of it. If he was with her, he'd be hugging her and rocking her, and part of her almost wants that. But she pushes that part away.
"Oh, Sandy, honey, don't worry. It's okay. We all ... we all make mistakes ..." He goes quiet for a moment. He's probably chewing on his lip like he does. "I'll get you out of this mess, hear me? I will. Okay." He sounds like he's reassuring himself.
"Soda, Soda baby ... This was the favor. Can you ... can you say it's yours? And we'll, we'll have to get married. I can't have a baby like this, I can't."
"Oh, God." This time, it's not a mutter.
She conjures up more tears. "Please, Soda, please."
"Honey..." Silence. Seconds. Ticking by. "Oh, goddamnit, Sandy. Fine. I will. For you."
The tears are still there, but her smile has become wider.
In being a pushover, he's solved all her problems that she created by betraying him.
Maybe that's why she liked him, in the beginning. He's too nice. And maybe that's why she betrayed him, in the end.
One last lie to finish it all.
"Thank you, Sodapop. I love you."