Disclaimer: All characters belong to S.E. Hinton, aside from the obvious.
Chapter 1
I had turned sneaking money from my parents into an art. No, not my parents. My mom and her boyfriend George. He wasn't my dad. He didn't want me in his life, and frankly, if he dropped dead right before my eyes I would probably have just laughed. He definitely wasn't what I would call a good father figure. Not that my own dad was much better. In all my thirteen years I could count the number of times we had spent together on one hand. Maybe George worked for a drug dealer, but I didn't know much about my own father to say any better about him. My mom never tried to hide the fact that Dad was a no good drunk, but she never tried to protect me from the fact that she and her boyfriend, who I lived with, were the same.
Every time I went into Mom and George's stash of cash I knew that I was asking for it. They must have known that I was taking it too, but I'd never stolen more than a couple bucks at a time, and by the time they would have realized it was missing more money would have been put in anyway. George knew well enough not to lay a hand on me if he found out anyhow. Knew that I would have no problem squealing to the cops about his middleman work if he ever touched me. The money wasn't really his anyway, it belonged to the guy he worked for, so I guess that's why he practically lost his mind when he found me standing in his closet, with about fifty-dollars in one hand, and the shoebox of money in the other.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, ripping the box from me. I held on tight to the fifty I had counted out though; he wasn't going to try and take it from me if he thought he might tear it.
I made a move towards the door, unable to speak for fear of the wrong words slipping out.
George couldn't seem to find the right words either. Instead, he screamed and shoved me against the wall.
"Don't touch me!" I yelled. Though he had threatened me practically everyday he had known me, George had never so much as laid a finger on me. Until then.
I was screaming every curse word I knew at him, and he was screaming back at me about being a "goddamned dirty little thief." Didn't help matters much when Mom came to the room, and started hollering at me along with him. How she knew what he was mad about I'll never know, but everything was happening so fast that I didn't even think about what I was saying.
"I could go to the cops about you! You could go to jail! If I were you-"
"If I were you I'd keep my mouth shut!" George interrupted.
"I don't care what you'd do! I don't have to listen to you!"
"He's your father Darcy!"
"No he's not!" I don't know how many times I had tried to tell her that I didn't consider him my father. She never listened.
"Well your own father doesn't exactly want you!" She snapped. "He says you're a mistake! Is that who you want to call your father? Someone who considers you a mistake?"
"Why not?" I asked boldly. "I call you mom."
That earned me a slap across the face. I'd say I deserved it, if it hadn't been for the fact that I was right. She called me a mistake all the time, when she was sober, when she was drunk, when she was high. Not like it was a big secret or anything. When you have a kid at fifteen, it isn't usually something you planned.
Mom wasn't done with me after the slap though. She had more to say.
"If you think your father's so swell then you can just go and live with him! See if he wants you anymore than we do!"
"All right!" I said, heading out of the room and down the hall. "I'll go! Can't be much worse than here."
George snorted, Mom laughed.
"Go on then." She had a smug grin on her face as she held the front door open for me. "Tell him I say howdy."
I hesitated a moment. She was really letting me go. The only reason I had been taking the money in the first place was because I was fixing on running away, but it didn't feel too great having my own mother telling me that she didn't want me.
I knew that if I left the house she would never take me back. But if I stayed, I would only be giving her something to hold against me later on.
The second I was out of the apartment I felt the door slam shut behind me. So this was it, I was on my own to find my father. Didn't know if he wanted me, didn't have anything except the clothes on my back, and the fifty bucks at hand.
First thing I did was head over to the bus station. First thing I had thought of was to get some food, but didn't need George remembering that I had his money. It would be best just to get out of town as fast as I could.
Practically missed the last bust of the day to Tulsa. It was boarding when I got there, and the stupid ticket holder didn't want to sell a kid my age a pass out of town. I had to convince him that I was only going to visit my sister overnight. Would have told him the truth and said it was my dad I was going to see, but lying just seemed easier.
The ride to Tulsa wasn't that long, but it felt like forever in the dark. There wasn't much to look at, but I couldn't risk falling asleep. I passed the time trying to think of ways to locate my dad. I didn't have any clue to where he lived, but remembered from the last time I had visited with my mom that he lived in a big old place with a lot of people hanging around. It wasn't really a visit that we had be there for. It had been about three years earlier, and during one of those times where Mom and George had decided that they were splitting up for good. Mom needed money for drugs or booze or something, but went to Dad telling him she needed money to pay for things for me. She couldn't get anything out of him though, and that was the last I had seen of him.
I was his kid and all, but I wasn't sure how keen he would be on having me stay with him. I figured I could tell him that I had money, and that all I needed was a roof over my head. From what I could remember he had a ton or people hanging around his place all the time. If he didn't have room for his own daughter, then it would just be pathetic.
When we got into Tulsa I couldn't find anyway to find him. Name wasn't in the phonebook, and I didn't know the city very well. Just when I was beginning to think that I would never locate him, I heard a couple of fellows, maybe nineteen or twenty, say my father's name.
My ears perked at the sound of it, and I listened to them just long enough to hear that they were headed over there.
"Hey," I called to them. "I'm trying to get there myself. Would you mind telling me how?"
The two boys looked at each other. I thought that maybe they weren't used to having someone so much younger trying to boss them around, but then the shorter of the two spoke.
"What's a kid like you doing looking for a place like that?"
"It's my dad's."
They looked at each other again, this time in disbelief. I wasn't going to stand around all night and watch them gawk at each other though, so I simply told them that I needed the directions again. I don't know if it was my charm or my use of the F-word three times in one sentence that got them to point Dad's place out for me.
Next thing I knew I was on a city bus, ridding towards my dad's place. The guys had told me that I would know the place when I saw it, and believe me, I did. It looked just like I remembered. A bunch of drunk people hanging around outside, and not young teenaged drinkers either. Dirty looking cowboys and bikers, people like that. But I didn't care about them. I was too excited about finally seeing my dad.
I walked up to the front door, and if anybody thought I was at the wrong place they didn't bother telling me. I ended up having to pound on the door before anyone could even hear me over the loud music, but finally the door opened, and there he was, standing right in front of me.
I flashed my crazy grin, trying to look confident, and said, "Howdy Pops."
