A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This Johnny (Johnny 2.0) is my own creation (along with Mikey, Dave, Shane, Pat, & Neil), though he was unashamedly inspired by Ms. Hinton's Johnny.
I woke to the pitter-patter of rain on my windows. It was too hot under the covers, so I slipped out of bed to roam around the house for a while. Although it was only 4 AM, I wasn't sleepy. I hadn't been able to sleep since Mom died; the house was much too quiet now. I didn't bother with a shirt, since it was just Dad and me, and I wandered into the kitchen to make some tea for myself.
I watched the rain drip through the gutter like the tears I felt running down my cheeks. Everything in the house still reminded me of her- the electric kettle she bought that lit up when the switch was flipped, the baking stones that were never quite clean, the macramé curtains that we all thought were tacky, even down to the scarf hanging on the coat rack by the door. Her perfume bottles still lined the bathroom counter, her medication was still in the cabinet above the sink, and her toothbrush rested in the glass. It was as though she'd never left. Dad liked it that way.
I shivered as I poured the water into my mug, savoring the light chamomile scent that meandered up through the steam. If I really thought that it would help me sleep, I was kidding myself; I just needed something comforting. I poured a little milk in too, after letting it steep for a bit, and I settled into a chair in the living room. Listening to the soft rain made me hyperaware of the other sounds around the house- the heater kicked on, the ceiling fan was humming as it spun, and Dad was tossing and turning. Maybe he'd join me out here, but I doubted it. He liked to grieve on his own. I have two hours before I need to get to school. I can't go back to bed now. I told myself, sipping thoughtfully as I studied the rain glinting like steel pennies through the streetlights. I'd get dressed as soon as I finished my tea, there was no use in waiting.
"You're up too, huh, Johnnycake?" A sleepy voice greeted me with grim amusement.
"I couldn't sleep. It was too hot in my room."
"So now you're drinking hot tea?"
"Yeah." We both understood why; it wasn't worth sleeping without Mom around. It felt too normal.
"You like the rain?" Dad's eyes and hair seemed more grey today.
"Mm-hmm." I nodded, finishing off my tea.
"So do I. It helps me think."
"I found a copy of Gone with the Wind on top of my bookshelf the other day; d'you know anything about it?" I'd found a letter inside too, but I decided to keep that under wraps.
"It's an epic story of two lovers during the Civil War, but I don't think that's what you were asking me about."
"No, it wasn't."
"It was mine; a friend bought it for me a long time ago."
"D'you mind if I read it?"
"That's what it's there for." He left without another word, and I watched him retreat into their room, or I should say, his room. It's gonna be hard to get used to that.
I didn't feel like going to school as I dug through my dresser to find clothes. I never felt like going to school much these days, and Mom's death made it worse. Maybe I can fake being sick. I never do that, so Dad's bound to believe me. The thought niggled into the back of my mind as I tugged a black sweater over my tee shirt. I didn't feel so well anyway, but I thought it would pass, so I laced up my sneakers before shrugging into my denim jacket. I never left the house without it. Buttons, my old sock monkey, lay forlornly on the bed, and I hugged him as tightly as I could until the lump in my throat went away.
I didn't have breakfast; I barely ate anything anymore, but I don't think Dad noticed. I brown-bagged some leftovers, but I knew I wouldn't eat them. I'd be more apt to either throw them up or throw them away. Even though I hated wasting food, I just couldn't bring myself to eat unless I couldn't get out of it. Dinner was the only meal I couldn't get out of. Everyone would watch me like a passel of hawks until I'd finished all the food they'd give me. It bugs me when people watch me eat. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and left to wait in the car. I needed some time alone before the drive to school.
"Oh, there you are. I kept calling for you, but you wouldn't answer; now I know why." Dad slid behind the wheel and shoved his things into the back. "Ready to go?"
"I guess." I struggled to keep the tears back, feeling a bit sick as I slumped down in the seat.
"You know you can talk to me, right? I'll always be here if you need me."
"I know." I stared out the window; the sky had taken on a heavy greenish hue. Maybe we'd get a late season tornado.
"You look a little pale, are you feeling okay, Johnnycake?"
"I'll be okay, Dad." I didn't want him to worry about me. Not when he had a million other things on his mind.
"Okay." I could tell he wasn't buying it for a second, but he drove us to school anyway. "Come see me if you start to feel sick, or something. I have a bottle of aspirin in my desk drawer." He added as I exited the car.
"Okay." I hurried inside and made it to the bathroom, where I got sick. I'd never gotten sick at school before, and I couldn't believe how fast the room was spinning and how cold I was as the sweat soaked through my tee shirt. The last thing I remember is the feeling of my dad's arms around me as he caught me when I collapsed.