I need to cut it out with all one shots. But ideas come… thus they must be written.
I do not own The Outsiders.
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"I hate you!"
The words ain't even directed at me but they hit me like a truck.
Though they seem to bounce right off Steve.
He only grumbles and continues to walk alongside Soda. "That's fine," he says flatly. "You can hate me all you want but you gotta stay here."
They're going to the movies. Without Pony.
Soda sends Ponyboy an apologetic smile. "It's ok. I'll be back and then we'll play football, just you and me. Dig?"
"Fine," Ponyboy says somewhat reluctantly. He's only eight.
I turn and head back into the house without a word. The words my brother had spat seemed to carry so much more than the I hate you they uttered.
He just hadn't known how to describe it.
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"I hate you."
This time the words come from Soda. He's fourteen.
He and Two-Bit are in the kitchen baking a cake. I turn just in time to see an explosion of flour erupt.
Sodapop hadn't even meant the words to be hurtful.
He had even laughed while saying them.
But I still wish he hadn't.
"Well, to each his own," Two-Bit says blissfully, flicking flour in my brother's face. "But I never really thought of myself as a very hateable person."
Sodapop laughs.
"Its hateable even a word?"
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"I always hated cats anyways."
That's Two-Bit. He's standing on our front step carrying a pair of scissors. Cat fur clings to his pants and there are scratches up and down his bare arms.
I flinch at the use the word but still keep a calm glance.
And a laugh, too. Because Two-Bit is an idiot and I think he always will be.
"Your neighbor paid you to cut her cat's fur?"
Two-Bit shrugs.
"She decided not to pay me after she saw the bald spots."
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"I hate them."
This is Ponyboy again. He says the word through tears and anger.
He's just gotten the news of his life.
I want to say - No you don't. You just hate what they told you.
But I'm speechless too.
I watch the officers leave.
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"I hate this!"
Sodapop again.
He throws the pencil down on the table. It teeters on the edge causing Ponyboy to look up from his own homework.
"Do you need help?"
Soda just shakes his head and grabs for his pencil. I understand.
He can't accept help on his Algebra homework from his kid brother.
"No."
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"I hate 'em."
I see Dallas look down at Johnny's bruised arms. He shakes his head.
"I'm gonna kill 'em."
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"I hate this."
Soda.
We know Dallas Winston knows where our kid brother is.
But he begrudgingly keeps that information to himself.
I know Ponyboy well enough to know that Dally has some sort of promise with him, and Dally keeps his word.
He's not going to rat them out for anything.
But Soda - with his black and white way of seeing things - calls him selfish.
And a few other choice words.
"Soda," I say blankly. "It's ok. He'll come back on his own."
Soda sighs and rubs his temples. It's something I usually do.
"Like hell he will."
I shut the door behind us and stare unseeingly into the house.
"Go to bed, Soda."
"But Darry -"
"It's late."
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"I think I hate them. But I can't really be sure."
It's late. Ponyboy stumbles into the house the night of the dance with a cut on his lip and the side of his face bruised.
"I also kinda dig them."
Someone guns an engine outside and drives off.
I grab his chin and jerk him towards me to examine his face.
He looks so grown up.
"What the hell happened to you?"
Pony shakes out of my grip. "I'm fine, Dar."
"You didn't answer my question."
He manages to look guilty. He always has.
"I got into a fight."
He sounds grown up too.
I sink into my chair and rub my temples. Hard.
Ponyboy puts on a crooked smile.
"I hotwired a car, too."
I realize he is grown up.
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"I hate her."
He says it so quietly. Like he doesn't want anyone else to hear.
I walk in just in time to see the phone receiver slip from Soda's hand. It dangles by the cord.
There are tears streaming from his eyes.
"Wha -"
The look Soda gives me is enough to answer my question.
After all this time, Sandy had had the nerve to call the house.
"I don't get it," Soda says blankly.
I put down the groceries I'd bought. They are no longer important.
What matters right then is my brother.
"Soda."
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"I hate chocolate!"
Jean laughs when I show her Soda's recipe for chocolate cake.
Our wedding cake.
We're getting married.
I hesitate and examine the faded recipe card.
"Maybe we could change chocolate to vanilla extract?"
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Excuse spelling errors.
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