Author's Note: Hey guys! This is just a one-shot I came up with while listening to the soundtrack from the movie "Scrooge."
I don't own The Outsiders.
Happy reading.
XXXXX
Thank you very much! Thank you very much!
That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me!
It sounds a bit bizarre, but things the way they are,
I feel as if another life's begun for me!
-Thank You Very Much, Scrooge
XXXXX
The Buddies
Ponyboy Curtis stood between his older brothers, staring down at the two graves. Graves that sat right beside each other, like the two deceased might've wanted. Johnny Cade was the only thing Dallas Winston had loved; why not bury them next to each other? There was a sort of bitterness surrounding the issue. After all, it's not like there wasn't a whole group of boys that actually gave a shit about Dally Winston. However, they had come to the conclusion that Johnny and Dally should rest next to each other. It made sense to keep them together. They were, after all, part of a gang. Almost like brothers.
His brothers, Darry and Sodapop, stand equally stunned as the reality of the situation sinks in. Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston are gone. Dead. Passed on. You really can't put it a nice way; it's one of those situations where... Well, it feels odd to call this a "situation." Fate, perhaps?
The other two gang members, Two-Bit and Steve, stand on either side of the brothers. They're just as stunned. Solemn is a word hardly used to describe Two-Bit Mathews, and helpless is a word hardly used to describe Steve Randle. But that's what they were. Solemn and helpless. They've lost too much for being on this earth for such a short time. Parents, role models, friends. If you want to get philosophical, you could even say they've lost their innocence. Their hope. Their faith in humanity.
Is it fair? All five of them know for a fact that everyone will eventually die. But is it fair that death seems to surround them? In some sick way, the answer is probably yes. The easy answer is no, no it's not fair. But everyone has mortality, and death is one of the few things you can count on.
The youngest one is remembering something he learned about in school, something someone said. "The only things you can count on in life are death and taxes." He can't remember who said it, but it's proving to be hauntingly true. Death had taken four of the people he cares most about in this world. Couldn't the only things you could count on in life be taxes and something else? But, whoever said it was right. Ponyboy tried to find something to fill in that blank to replace death, but nothing came to mind that made sense. At first he thought love, but then realized that there were people who were... Well, unlovable. Or maybe just resistant to it. Then he figured friendship. Brotherhood. But not everyone can make friends, at least not as close as the ones he had.
He eventually figured that whoever said that quote was just bitter, and that satisfied him.
The Ally
He heard about it in some dive bar. That Dallas Winston had kicked the bucket. Moved on to greener pastures. Died. Tim Shepard wasn't exactly shocked, but he was a bit surprised. He had figured that Winston probably wouldn't make it that far into adulthood, no. But... Suicide? Really? That was his out? His blaze of glory? Suicide by police. You could definitely count on Dallas Winston to cook something like that up. He was smart like that. He knew how the law worked. How to cheat it, how to avoid it, how it applied to everything. He didn't care most of the time, but he still knew. Spending that much time around the fuzz must've benefited him somehow, and Tim Shepard figured that was how he benefited. He was like an insider.
But no. Dallas Winston wasn't an insider. He was an outsider. A loner, who figured no one really gave a damn what happened to him.
The Dead Guy's Girl
She could've fallen in love with him. She really could've. Maybe it was for the best. Dallas was trouble, Cherry knew that. And now he was gone. Maybe it was for the best.
The Principal
Ah, Dallas Winston. Principal Vernon remembered him well. He had dropped out, but he had created a lot of trouble in the days he had still attended Will Rogers High School. He pulled fire alarms, stole hubcaps, totaled Vernon's car, flooded the homecoming dance, and was a general nuisance. Principal Vernon hasn't dealt with him in years, but he wasn't the least bit surprised when he read in the Sunday paper that local juvenile delinquent Dallas Winston had been shot down in a vacant lot. And that he had robbed a grocery store beforehand. Vernon figured something like this would happen to him. Maybe not that he'd be shot down under a streetlight, but he thought maybe he'd get sentenced to spend, say, twenty years to life.
Vernon also didn't expect him to be praised in the paper as a hero. He saved one of his friends from a burning church. That boy, Johnny Cade, had died too. But Dallas Winston had saved him.
Principal Vernon expected Dallas Winston to be a criminal. But a dead hero... He can't say he saw that one coming.
The Rodeo Partner
Buck had to get a new jockey. The other one had to go and get his sorry ass shot down.
The Father
It was the last thing he wanted. A son, that is. Now, the boy was gone. It's funny, because his father hardly ever remembers him being around. And he can't put his finger on why.
Maybe it has something to do with the drunken stupor he's in.
The Stranger
He didn't know him that well. At all, really. He was just another tow-headed kid, nothing out of the usual. But he saved those other two boys. Jerry Wood had never seen anything like it, and doesn't expect to ever again. He was surprised when the young one, Ponyboy Curtis was his name, told him in the ambulance on the way to the hospital that they were greasers. But "greaser" had nothing to do with it.
The Rookie
The gun sat on his desk. He stares at it. Rookie Officer Henderson had actually shot a kid, and it killed him. Sure he wasn't the only one. But he was one of them. Sure he's heard about Dallas Winston, and what an "awful nuisance to society" and "juvenile delinquent" he was. He was a hood, Officer Henderson knew that. But actually having to use that gun he was issued... He never fathomed that he'd ever have to use it.
It made him feel sick as he continued to stare at it. It had killed someone. It had, not him. Right? No, not right. For a gun to work, a person has to operate it.
Officer Henderson was one sorry sack of shit right now. Cops were supposed to enforce the law. To stop kids like Dallas Winston from robbing convenience stores. To stop them from crumpling under street lights in the dead of night.
The Aftermath
The Curtis brothers, Two-Bit Mathews, and Steve Randle were silent as they drove. Ponyboy was sandwiched between Steve and Two-Bit, Darry driving, and Sodapop in shotgun. No one wanted to talk, but Two-Bit-always the talker-decided it would alleviate some of the awkwardness.
"Do you... Do you think some people are glad he's dead?" He asked tentatively. The boys in the front looked at him through the rear-view mirror.
"Who? Dally?" Sodapop asked.
"Yeah, Dally. I mean... You know how he is- I mean was."
Sodapop shrugged.
"I guess," he answered.
"I'm not glad he's dead," Ponyboy piped up. Steve nodded his head in agreement.
"That was so stupid of him though!" Steve hissed. "I mean, goddamnit, he was always a pain in the ass-"
"No more so than you."
"I wouldn't be so quick to talk, Mathews. Anyways, why did he hafta go and do that? Why?"
The truck fell back into an uncomfortable silence, as no one knew the answer. Except...
"Johnny. Johnny was why he did it," Ponyboy offered up. "Johnny was the only thing he loved, and Johnny died."
"Did he not know he had us?" Steve spat. Darry eyed him warily in the mirror.
"It was... Impulsive. That's the only way to explain it," Darry explained slowly, like he was speaking to an illiterate kindergartener.
"I still think someone out there is real glad he's dead," Two-Bit stated again.
"Like who?" Darry sighed.
"Like... Like the socs. I bet there're some assholes think this town is better off without 'im, even though some of 'em cause just as much trouble as he did."
"You know who else might be glad he's dead?" Pony asked.
"No who?"
"Cherry Valance."
The three boys who weren't currently occupied with driving turned to face him.
"Why would Cherry Valance be glad he's dead?" Sodapop asked.
"Because she was afraid of loving him," Pony explained, his voice a monotone. "She said so herself. She said if she ever saw him again, she'd fall in love with him. Now, she can't."
Pony was probably right. But his morbid observation sent the truck back into silence, leaving the boys to swell on their worries. Speculations. Worries about how all of them will get through this. Speculations on who else might be glad Dally was gone, and if Pony really was right about everything he had said.
He was right. He was. But, ignorance is bliss, and maybe that's all you can hope for when it comes to this kind of situation.
But... This wasn't a situation. This wasn't not being able to pay the bills on time. This was Fate. This was their own shitty luck.
Two-Bit was probably right too. There were people in Tulsa who felt as though they were better off without Dally Winston. But not everyone. And not just the five of them. Other people too.
Darry remembered hearing a quote from Benjamin Franklin. Something about the only things in life that you can count on are death and taxes. And he could tell you firsthand that that was pretty accurate.
XXXXX
A/N: Well. I've never written in third person on here before, so this is different.
Pardon typos. Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated.