Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Outsiders.'
Starts in the same way as Alternate but it's completely different. You'll see. Written in the same personal monologue style of the original Outsiders. Story starts from when that Soc who was drowning Ponyboy dropped him but for a different reason.
I suddenly felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I flew backward and into the fountain, hitting my head hard. I tried getting up, to face the Socs, but I was forced back onto the ground by a sharp strike to my stomach. I felt myself being lifted off the ground. I tried opening my eyes but they were blurred, I couldn't see or fight back. I took hit after hit, repeatedly to my stomach and face, then something hard connected with the back of my head and I passed out cold.
When I woke up I was in a white room. It occurred to me that I didn't know where I was. I looked around and saw these two guys watching me. One had golden blonde hair. He looked real handsome, like a movie star or something. He had dark brown eyes, sort of playful.
The other one had dark brown hair. It was shorter than the other guy's had been. He was broad shouldered and muscular. His eyes were a pale blue-green and he was just as handsome as the guy next to him.
Both those guys were looking at me, watching me. I looked at them.
"Who are you?" I asked, weakly. It was hurting me to breathe, for some reason.
They looked startled. "It's us," The blonde said. "Your brothers. Darrel and Sodapop."
"Great," I said, smiling, proud of having such handsome brothers. "And, who am I?"
They looked really scared now.
"Well, you're Ponyboy," Sodapop said, half nervously. "Ponyboy Curtis."
I thought about that for second. "Interesting name. Um, where are we?" I said, not bothering to hide my confusion.
"This is a hospital. You ran into some trouble yesterday." Darrel said, softly.
"Where are our parents?" I asked. I figured that our parents would have shown up if one of their sons was in the hospital. Darrel and Sodapop both froze.
"I'll tell you later." Darrel said.
I nodded. "Okay."
I heard him whisper to Sodapop. "I hope his memory kicks in soon. I don't want to have to tell him that again."
I started to ask what he was talking about when the kid in the bed next to me stirred. I asked my brothers if they knew him.
"Yeah. He's one of our friends. His name's Johnny. He was with you when all this happened." Sodapop said.
"Do you remember what happened last night?" Darrel asked. His gaze slid to the floor. "Anything?" He asked a little softer this time. Sodapop put his hand on his shoulder.
I shook my head. "Not a thing."
That kid named Johnny opened his eyes and smiled at us. "Hey Darry, hey Soda." He said weakly. After that I started calling them that too. Johnny looked at me. "Some night, huh?" he said in a sad voice. I didn't answer, mostly because I had no idea what he was talking about.
He didn't seem to mind me not answering, but Soda looked sort of worried so he went over to Johnny and started talking to him. Johnny looked at me a couple of times while Soda was talking. I barely took any notice.
The next day some more of Soda and Darry's friends came by. They told me they were my friends too. I was surprised. These people were hoods, was I one too? I didn't know, I hadn't seen a mirror in a while; I couldn't move from my bed. They didn't all tell me their names. There was this blonde kid named Dallas. And, another with long sideburns. He showed me his favorite switchblade, to see if I would remember anything. I didn't. He didn't tell me his name. The other guy had greasy, swirling hair. I think his name was Steve or something.
Two days later Darry and Soda decided to tell me where our parents were.
"Ponyboy . . ." Darry started. He looked afraid to tell me. "Our parents are dead."
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Their was a sharp pain in my head and I suddenly remembered the voice of that cop when he told us our parents were dead. It was cold, empty, and I knew he didn't give a damn about what happened to some parentless greasers. Other things flashed through my mind. Of the day Johnny got beat up, how we found him in the vacant lot. . . how he had cried. His dad always beat him up and he never cried. Not after the first time.
I remembered the nightmares that I had months after mom and dad's funeral. Awaking screaming or in a cold sweat, begging that through some miracle mom and dad would come back and the nightmares would stop. And more recently I remembered being cornered in the park by Bob and Randy for picking up their girls.
All these images flashed through my mind until, finally, I cried. I usually would have held back— there was a nurse in the room checking on Johnny, but I couldn't help it. I hadn't cried in a while, I didn't have a reason to. I sat up and bawled, burying my face in my arms. It was painful. When the tears stopped I recognized everything. It all seemed familiar. Soda and Darry were my brothers, like they had been all my life, not just some guys who claimed to be. I was Ponyboy Curtis. And Johnny was by buddy, like he had been for most of my life, not just some kid I shared a room with. It all came back and I slept more soundly that night than I had in a week, mostly . . .
I had one of those dreams that night. The one like many others that followed mom and dad's funeral. I could never remember what happened in them to scare me so bad.
My eyes opened and I heard screaming. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was me. I stopped. I had woken Johnny up and one of the nurses came rushing in. Johnny knew what was going on so he didn't panic but that nurse was hysterical. She kept asking how much pain I was in. I told her it was only a nightmare but she called Darry and Soda all the same. I told them they didn't have to come, no matter how many times they asked to.
The next day I was in a lot of pain. I finally realized just how messed up I was. I hadn't noticed one of my legs in a sling and my ribs were taped up. There were bruises all along my stomach and my head was pounding. It was hurting more to breathe than it had been days before. The only thing I had been worrying about was remembering who I was. Now the pain was unavoidable. A nurse gave me some painkiller shots that made me feel tired and dizzy and a bit confused. I almost dropped off while me and Soda were talking. Darry had to work or else he would have come too. Me and him weren't talking real great. My memory also came back of him hitting me that night me and Johnny got beat up. That was what Soda talked about mostly.
"You know he didn't mean it." He said. "He was just worried."
"He has a funny way of showing it." I said, bluntly.
I was almost asleep. My eyes were getting harder to open after I blinked and I couldn't move my body anymore. I think Soda saw this coming because he would ask shorter questions and paused when he thought I was going to fall asleep. Finally I closed my eyes to rest and they didn't open again.
I don't know how long I was asleep for but when I woke up it was maybe mid-afternoon. I looked over at Johnny. He looked more messed up than the last time I woke up. His face was bruised and his arm was bandaged up.
"What happened?" I asked him.
He looked at me, shaking. I could tell it was hurting him, but he didn't stop, I don't think he could help it. "It was my old man. . ." He said, his voice surprisingly calm. "He came in to finish the job those Socs started." He was talking really quietly, more quietly than usual. He grinned shakily. "He failed."
I got released from the hospital a few days after but Johnny, because of his new injuries, had to stay another week. And when we saw him the next week, after coming home, with a fresh black eye, we were all for jumping his dad. But Johnny fed us some excuse of his father's devise.
"I guess he wasted a lot of money keeping me in the hospital all that time."
His dad was the one who landed him that extra week in the hospital in the first place! His so called father who beat him and yelled at him. I remember my father, playful and generous. Easy to talk to. Dark haired and bright eyed.
Johnny was really nervous after that; they did almost kill him again. He was pretty jumpy. He almost went crazy the first time he got jailed. His face was expressionless but his eyes were panicked. He was in there for two weeks. I think, if he hadn't been jailed with Two-Bit, he would have died in there. He seemed different when he got out. It was harder for us to get him to talk and his big, black eyes had an even deeper look of suspicion than before.
One day we was hanging out in the vacant lot. We were all smoking, talking, nothing much, when this bunch of girls were walking past. I don't know what was wrong with us today— those were some pretty cute girls— but we stayed quiet. One of those girls spotted us and came up to us. She was blonde and had on a lot of blue and black eye makeup. Her lips were a deep purple color. She eyed me, then Steve, then her eyes landed on Dallas. She walked up to him and kissed him. Dally didn't look surprised. When they finally resurfaced he said, real smooth like.
"I'll pick you up at seven."
She smiled and went back to her friends. I didn't even bother asking how Dally did that. I just watched the girl thinking: that's the only kind of girl that doesn't hate us. Too much make up, swears too much and doesn't know when to let go.
"Hey, Pony?" Dally said. "You eyeing my girl?"
"I got a girl, Dal." I said smoothly, then took a drag on my cigarette.
I had had a couple of girlfriends like that. They would always swear at someone during our dates or refuse to let go of me or was just plain obnoxious. I still wondered about those girls like Cherry and Marcia. The sweet girls who wore decent clothes and a nice amount of makeup. The normal girls who wouldn't clutch onto the first guy they saw . . .
A little later that day another girl was walking around. Again, she caught sight of us and came up to us. I was wondering why we were so quiet today. She had long hair, down to the middle of her back. She couldn't have been any taller than me, maybe a little shorter. She had these green eyes, shining and bright. Sort of like Sodapop's were bright. Her hair was a black that gleamed because of the sun. She was wearing a jean skirt and a red shirt. Her lips were a light red to match her shirt. She saw Johnny and walked up to him. He kept a straight face when he looked at the girl, almost scary. She didn't look remotely scared of any of us.
"Hi." She said, brightly.
Johnny didn't respond but his eyes softened a little.
"What's your name?" She asked him.
"Jonathan." He said, plainly. He seemed to like telling strangers his name was Jonathan. Not because it was any better, just because.
"You look more like a Johnny to me."
I noticed the silver peace medallion around her neck. She was a hippy, a peace lover. She noticed what I was looking at and took it off. She held it in front of her and smiled.
"My mom gave this to me. She said that peace would find a way." She put it back around her neck.
"So, what're you doing around here? There's no peace where we are." I said.
"Peace isn't created, it's given."
Steve blinked at her with an expression that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He thought she was nuts. The girl, obviously not noticing, focused back on Johnny. We weren't really paying attention. We started talking amongst ourselves. I could hear Johnny and that girl talking. She was sweet talking him. He was just talking. Steve finally stepped into their conversation. He told her the same thing he told Sylvia, Dallas's girl, a few years back.
"You try anything with Johnny and I will personally beat the tar out of you."
She pulled away from him and looked back at Johnny.
"Your friend doesn't trust me much, does he?"
"I guess not." He said. He trusted what everybody else said. They were a little more experienced, but something in his eyes told me he didn't trust Steve about this one.
"What are you, his father?" She said to Steve. Johnny didn't say anything.
"Hardly." Steve replied, coldly.
She looked back at Johnny, looking at the scar that ran from his temple to his cheekbone. She reached out to touch it and Johnny held onto her wrist and lowered her hand. He didn't like anyone touching it. It had something to do with painful memories.
Steve went up next to Johnny and whispered to him.
"I just don't want to see her hurt you like that last broad."
Johnny shook his head. "Why would she do that?"
"Yeah," she said. "Why would I hurt him?"
"Haven't seen a chick hold back yet."
"First time for everything." She said. Steve glared at her.
Johnny asked her to go out with him on Friday. She said yes then looked at Steve.
"How about this? If I hurt him you have the right to hurt me."
"How do I know you'd show?" Steve asked.
"Are you done with that?" She asked Two-Bit who was taking his time smoking a cigarette. He shrugged and handed it to her. He lit another one and stuck it in his mouth. The girl ground out the cigarette end on the palm of her hand. Johnny's eyes widened a little. He couldn't believe someone wanted to go out with him that much.
"That's how you know." She said, showing Steve the burn in her hand. He nodded and leaned on the wall. She kept talking to Johnny.
"Eight o'clock, alright?" She asked.
"Seven thirty." He said. "What's your name anyway?"
"Jenny." She thought about it. "Jenny and Johnny. Weird, right?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
She walked down the street opposite the direction she started in. Johnny looked like he was about to smile but looked down, so that his bangs covered his face.
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They started going steady. They were cute pair. Johnny's black hair covering his face, his eyes, his emotion. Jenny showing enough emotion for the both of them, always lively. She was a little crazy about music, always humming a tune or singing Johnny a new song she'd written or heard. He seemed to like it. She had never gone into his house before or he into hers. They both had something to hide.
Finally Jenny went to Johnny's house. I was heading over there when I saw her coming from the opposite direction. I waved and we went in together. I almost made her go back outside. She pushed past me and saw just what I didn't want her to.
Johnny was lying on the ground, his dad standing over him. His old man kicked him in the stomach and he went sprawling into a wall. His dad walked away, glaring at us as he passed.
Jenny ran over to Johnny. He was lying down, half-conscious. I was used to this but Jenny looked like she was about to cry. I sort of remembered feeling the same way the first time I saw Johnny get beat up by his dad. He opened his eyes and saw us sitting there. He sat up, wincing slightly, and leaned on the wall.
"Good old dad." He said, avoiding Jenny's stare.
Jenny sat down next to him and rubbed her arm. She sighed. "Good old dad." She said.
He looked at her and noticed she was rubbing her shoulder. He took her jacket off of her. There were bruises on her arm. He pushed her hair back out of her face. There was another bruise on her cheek. He gave her an uncomprehending look. He knew what was going on but looked as if he was unable to believe it. He had stopped a lot of other greasers from beating on her because she was a hippy. I left after that. Figured it was something they had to talk about.
Johnny talked to me about it. Her mom was a hippy but she also did drugs. Powerful stuff like acid. Jenny said that she didn't like seeing her mom destroy herself. That's why she keeps faith in peaceful conduct. Because she still thought that peace could find a way. Her dad was always mad about her mom but since he couldn't do anything about it he took out his anger on her. He would drink a lot and beat her up. He would rape her too. She hadn't been a virgin since she was ten years old. Johnny's face was white after he told me.
I put my hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Johnny. . . Peace will find a way."
Alright, what do you think? Yes this is a one shot but if you want me to write a sequel then tell me. Flames are for campfires and this is a different Jenny than in Loving The Change, in case you hadn't noticed!