DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Outsiders, nor much else.
Darry drew a hand over his forehead and felt a sheen of wetness across the back of his fingers. He reached for the bottle tucked in his shirt pocket and took several gulps of warm water. The roof tiles were scorching underneath his knees and it felt like the sun was baking him from the outside in. He peered over the edge of the three storey house and saw Pete, shirtless, his burly broad shoulders tanned and glistening in the heat, pouring a bottle of water over his chest before leaning against the truck. It sure was hot to be working.
He leaned back slightly against the roof to take a look at Tulsa stretched out below.
He'd promised Pony he'd try to stand and stare once in a while, even if it was difficult to see the point of it, and he guessed that sweating on a roof was as good a time as any.
Besides, the view from the roof was great. The house they'd been roofing for the last week was one of the grandest in this the soccest of soc neightbourhoods. It was set on a little hill in a group of other large houses, set off from the road. You could follow the highway as it skirted round the outside of the city, see the neat roofs of hundreds of houses stretched out – and then in the distance you could see the houses get less neat as the eastside took over. Except from here it was hard to see the scrubland, untended gardens or rusty cars.
He leaned his head back and drained the water bottle. In fact, it was probably just because he knew it was the east side that he saw those things in his mind's eye.
Darry glanced over the edge of the roof at the roomy back yard. More a garden really. All shrubs and flowers, and a basketball net hung up against the garage. He smiled wryly, remembering the newly broken lamp in their living room - the result of Soda and Steve's arm wrestling match getting a little out of hand this morning.
He frowned, feeling a little guilty. He guessed if you lived in a place like this, you could use up your energy shooting hoops rather than rough housing in the living room and getting yelled into the next state by your big brother. He guessed a lot of things would be different if you lived in a house like this.
"Hey kid – you gonna do some work or just dream the day away?"
Darry looked up sharply. "Didn't know you were back," he said mildly as Pete's head appeared above the guttering.
"Well I am – get your ass in gear would you? We're already behind and I need to finish this job."
Darry rolled his eyes and turned back to the 23-year-old who'd just been made supervisor. Nothing to do with being the boss' cousin, of course, Darry thought bitterly.
He leaned out and pulled the roughing up onto the roof, handing the replacement Stanley knife up to Gerry behind him.
Pete pulled himself onto the roof. "Get a move on - we need more of this." He said roughly.
"Sure." Darry swung a leg over the edge of the roof onto the hot rungs of the ladder.
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Darry used his foot to kick open the screen on their front door, his hands heavy with SAVERMART bags of tinned food and toilet roll. He leaned back into the door, using his elbow to lever open the handle. The house was eerily quiet, its shabbiness more obvious when there weren't any teenagers about to liven it up. He walked through the living room to the kitchen and laid the bags on the counter.
He glanced at the clock, slightly annoyed. He'd asked Pony to start dinner tonight so he could get to the discount mart where they went when money was tight.
I'll give him fifteen minutes
He sighed and started putting away the groceries. It was going to have to be one of their "creative" dinners.. maybe he should get Soda to work some magic on beans and tomatoes.
No – scrub that. He grinned. We'll end up with some inedible purple mess, with a heap of sugar added.
Darry glanced at the clock again and forced himself to make a coffee and sit down to open that week's bills. Lately he'd taken to leaving them in a pile on the counter rather than actually opening them – he was so damn tired.
A loud ringing jolted him awake. He jerked up in surprise, knocking a pile of bills off the table. He glanced at the clock - where the hell has Pony got to – and strolled across the living room to pick up the phone.
"Hello? Can I speak to Darrell Curtis please?" An urgent voice of authority came on the line. Darry's heart sank.
What now?
Aloud, he replied, "Yeah, speaking."
"I'm calling from St Francis hospital. You're –" there was a pause on the end of the line, "Pony-boy Curtis' guardian?"
"What's happened?" Darry said, hearing his voice rise in panic.
"He was brought in this afternoon. He had an accident. Nothing too-"
Darry cut her off. "I'll be right there."
This is my first fan fiction. Please review if you wish. Will appreciate reviews good and bad, so long as they're honest.
