The Bravest People I Know

by One Wish Magic

One-Shot. Ponyboy has to write about the bravest people he knows. Everyone he knows has done something brave at least once in thier lives, but who stands out to him the most?

This idea struck me at about ten to two one morning. This is my first fic that really concerns Johnny and Dally's deaths. I do not own the outsiders.

(Ponyboy POV)

I stirred blankly at the words before me; "Write a speech about the bravest person you know. State what traits you think makes them brave and why they stand out to you more than anyone else." It was a simple enough task, so why was I having so much trouble doing it?

For the past few weeks my English class had been studying hero's, both throughout history and within fiction. We had concluded that one of the main things that made a hero, was bravery. From this, Mr. Syme – my English teacher- had come up with what he had thought was a brilliant idea, for us all to write and perform a speech in front of the class on the bravest person we all knew. I however was against the idea right from the off, I just didn't like public speaking. I am rather quiet around people, even the gang, and I have grown up with all of them. But I had to say, I liked public speaking even less when I had to talk about my friends and family.

So that was how I had ended up sitting cooped up in my room, at the desk, pouring over my speech question and trying to write something down that I would not feel uncomfortable saying. There are a lot of Soc's in my English class,which didn't make things any easier.

When I had first read over the question, the first person that had jumped immediately to mind had been, Dallas Winston. Man he was tough. He could take on anyone and face everything, and he would always some out the other side with a cocky grin firmly plastered to his elfish face. He did whatever he wanted whenever and wherever he wanted. He openly disobeyed the rules and laws simply because they were there. He never ran from a fight, no matter how much the odds seemed stacked against him. Dallas would not even batter an eye when he was hauled in all the time by the fuzz, even when it was one of the gang that had done something and it was him that got hauled in for it, he would say it was him. Like that time when Two-Bit had smashed out the school windows, Dallas had took the sentence, hadn't even tried to deny it. Man you had to have nerves of steel to talk the the fuzz the Dally does. I didn't like policemen, there was just something about them that scared me. But they didn't bother Dallas none. He faced life cold and uncaringly. Dallas Winston was unbreakable, you could kick him down as many times as you liked, but you could never break him.

But the more I thought about it, what bravery really meant and what it signified to me, the less it seemed to fit Dallas. I always imagined someone described as 'brave' to be a valiant warrior, fighting for a cause and the good of the world, gallant and courageous. A person faced with a choice from which they embarked on a wondrous and dangerous quest, not knowing if they would ever see the people they loved again. Deep down they know that victory might only be gained by the loss of their own life. A journey fraught with perils and at anytime they could choose to turn back, but don't. That was what bravery was. Bravery was a choice, one that we could all make.

I chuckled to myself, perhaps my definition of bravery was more like heroism, it was also slightly outdated. Tulsa no longer had warriors and knights, maybe some wild Indians on the outskirts of Oklahoma, but other than that. Bravery today was a lot different to what it was back then.

That was when it struck me. There were different kinds of bravery. Just like there were different shades of, say, green. They all coloured things differently, but when all said and done weren't they still all green? Like the bravery of a solider going off to war, fighting for their country, whilst not knowing weather they would live long enough or not to return home again. That was the kind of heroic brave. But what about a lonesome Greaser who was jumped by a gang of Soc's, with nothing more to defend himself with than a busted pop bottle? Like Steve had been that time, but he had still managed to hold off those four guys and escape the attack without a scratch on him. That was the kind of bravery that was present all around Tulsa, particularity on the East side, but no one seemed to recognize it for what it was. Both involved fighting for the defense of oneself against an enemy with different views. But while one was recognized as a heroic deed, the other was thought of as crime and gang warfare. I could see what people meant, and understood why they thought that, but to me, both circumstances called for the same amount of bravery.

But what do I know? I am only a 14 year old kid, as Darry keeps so gladly reminding me. I don't understand how the world works. All I have ever know was here and now, (with the exception of mum and dad). My brothers, the gang and the Greasers versus Soc's divide. Darry understood how everything worked though. He was logical while I was a dreamer.

I set down my pen and rubbed my tired and aching eyes. I needed to get this finished, but I didn't know how much longer I could force myself to stay awake. I could already hear Sodapop snoring lightly behind me, I hadn't even heard him come up. I listened to his slow, smooth breathing. It was a reassuring sound, kind of like a lullaby.

Before I knew it I had me head on the desk and my eyes closed, lulled into a light slumber by it's delicate sound. As soon as I realized, I forced my eyes back open and sat up again.

"Soda," I mumbled quietly, "Your putting me to sleep." His only response was more reassuring snoring. I sighed to myself. Soda could put just about anyone out when he sets his head to it, seemed like he could do it subconsciously as well.

Sitting up straight and blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes, I set my mind back to the task in hand. Everyone I knew had done something brave form one time to another, but none of them really stood out to me. Sodapop had been brave to drop out of school and find work to help Darry with the bills and looking after me. Most people did not take to kindly to dropouts and most of them found it hard to get work without any qualifications what so ever. But Soda's courage had been rewarded when he had found a good job and one he enjoyed doing too. Darry was brave to have taken in the role of gaurdian to both me and Soda. It was solely because of him that we had stayed together even this long. He keeps us in line, well, most of the time anyway, but if me and Soda can't stay out of trouble, we at least make sure that we're not caught. Two-Bit, well, who really knew about Two-Bit, he was just simply brave to put a smile on his face everyday, come what may. He was always ready with a joke or funny remark to keep us all laughing. Their was no-one in our neighborhood as cheerful as Two-Bit. No-one really wanted to build up their hopes just have them dashed again. But good ol' Two-Bit smiled regardless. And finally Johnny – Thats when it hit me – Johnnycake. Why had I not thought of him before?

Johnny was timid and jumpy and at first glance, no one would be able to accuse him of being brave. But the more you got to know him, the more you could see he had some inner strength, courage that bubbled to the surface every so often. His life had been hard and he had had many tough breaks. His parents never cared for him, I was pretty sure that Johnny didn't even know what love and genuine affection were until he had met the gang. His mother ignored him most of the time but when ever she did pay attention to her son, it was only to yell at him. We could here her hollering clear down the street. Johnny hated that. His father was a violent drunk who lashed out at Johnny and beat him up badly. We had all witnessed his fathers temper at one time or another. I remember it well, Johnny did not even show a sliver of fear or pain when that bet buckle tore into his back. I knew that not even Darry would be able to deny that that had got to have hurt. But Johnny just took it, that was courageous. He was a good man in a rumble, he fought as well as anyone of us and he was always there when one of us needed him, he was gallant that way.

But then not two months ago, he had been jumped by four Soc's in the vacant lot. He had been really badly cut up, still to this day he carried a scar on his cheek from the attack, a constant reminder. He had said that the guy that had laid into him had been waring a lot of rings. Anyone else in Johnny's position would have gotten mad, turned mean, blew up. Whatever. But not Johnny. Johnny overcame it, or seemed to anyway, and that stood out as one of the bravest things one of my friends ever had done and would likely do.

Johnny was just as brave as Dally, just a different sort of brave. Both of them backed up what I had stumbled upon before, about there being different kinds of bravery. Dally was the more fearless, bold and daring kind of brave, while Johnny was the more reserved valiant, gallant and courageous type of brave. Both Johnny and Dally stood at the opposite ends of the scale, and I think that was why they both stood out to me more than anyone else.

With everything still fresh in my mind I picked up my pen and began to write. Not stopping until I had finished. I read over my speech, scribbling out a few bits and re-writing them again. Finally I sat back and laid down my pen for the final time. Done. It was a weight off my mind, but something still nagged at me. Would I really be able to stand up in-front of my class, the Soc's included, and tell everyone about my brave 'hoodlum' friends?

I glanced down at my paper and imagined myself saying the words;

" I do not think a speech can adequately sum up a person enough to an audience. We can all tell each other about the bravest people we know, but really, they will only truly be brave to us and us alone. This is simply because we know them, have spent time with them and, in most cases anyway, understand them. While I was thinking about what to say, I realized something. Something that I am sure we are all aware of but do not really pay heed to. Which is, that bravery comes in all shapes and forms, it is not just confined to a certain set of actions. Everyone has done something brave at least once throughout their lives and it is because of this, I cannot simply talk about one person. My speech has to be split two ways, between the two bravest people I know. Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade. I am pretty sure that is any of you actually met Dallas or Johnny you would not think of them as brave, you would probably just shout 'hood' or 'Greaser' at them and have done with it. But that doesn't matter, because to me they are both the bravest people I know. While all hero's are brave, not all those who are brave are hero's. Dallas for instance would gladly relieve anyone who even so much as dared to call him a hero, of a couple of teeth. He is tough and proud of it. Johnny is more of the heroic type, the silent hero. Johnny appears timid and jumpy, and he doesn't talk much. But that is only on the surface, scratch below that and you can see what Johnny is really made of. Johnny hasn't really had many lucky breaks, and I am almost certain that anyone else in Johnny's shoes would have turned bad, or even hated the world the way Dallas did. But not Johnny, he is still as pure and golden as the day I had very first met him. That took real inner strength and bravery. Dallas however is rude and cocky, hardly the ideal candidate to talk about when giving a speech on bravery, but there is something more to him. Dallas is real, so real that sometimes it scares me. He is nothing like all the brave hero's in books or throughout history, his kind of bravery is his own, unique even. So unique in fact that half of the time his brave actions are not even recognized for what they are. Which to be perfectly honest, I don't think he minds. Dallas would like to be known for being brave about as much as he would want to be know as a hero. Both Johnny and Dallas have different qualities that make them brave, Dallas is fearless, bold and daring, while Johnny is a more reserved gallant, courageous and valiant. Really though they are both as brave as each other. Johnny and Dallas stood out to me more than anyone else because, they were both brave, but in such vastly different ways. I hope that one day people might be able to see past the 'Greaser,' down to the real person, and then perhaps someone else will see the bravery in my friends that I have always seen"

With my whole body aching from tiredness and my eyes threatening to close, I decided to leave worrying about my speech until tomorrow.

As quickly as I could while trying not to wake Soda, I got into bed. As soon as I had settled my brothers arm wrapped itself around my chest and he snuggled into me. Sleepily I turned into his embrace, using his chest as a pillow. I never felt safer then when I was tucked up with Soda at night, his arms wrapped protectively around me. I lay there for a minute, listening to his gentle snoring, allowing it to wash over me. Before I knew it I was asleep.

(Roughly two and a half months later)

I was bored. Really, really, bored. Darry and Soda had made m stay in bad for a whole week. I was not the sort of person that could lie there staring up at the same ceiling for hours on end. My brothers were adamant that needed my rest, while I was adamant that they were worrying too much. They would not let it go that I had been gravely ill, or that my temperature was still a little higher than normal. If I had told them once then I had told them a hundred times that I was fine and that they should stop worrying, but neither of them had paid a blind bit of notice to me. To be perfectly honest, I did still fell a little rough, but they didn't have to know that, although I was pretty sure that they already did. But if I didn't confirm their suspicions, than they could not act upon them.

Things had been messed up since the night of Johnny's and Dally's - Don't! I told myself firmly, feeling hot tears once again sting my eyes.

Don't think about it, it didn't really happen, it was just something you dreamed about while you were delirious. Dally was over at Buck's, getting drunk, whipping everybody at polka and getting into the occasional fight to blow off some steam. Johnny was out in the vacant lot, sleeping rough under the stars because his parents had been fighting again, and waiting for me.

I took a deep breath and blinked back my tears. This tactic worked well, too well, I was telling myself what I wanted to hear, and that was not the truth. For the first few days after I had come round, every time someone slammed the door and hollered;

"Hey y'all" into the house, I half believe it was either Johnny or Dallas returning from wherever they had been, coming back to where they belonged, with us. But it never was.

To keep my mind off things, I lost myself in books. I had by now read every book in the house, even Darry's copy of The Carpetbaggers, which he had always told me I wasn't old enough to read. Once I had finished the book, I had to agree. Johnny's copy of 'Gone With The Wind' still rested on my desk. In the exact same place as I assumed Darry had put it. I couldn't bring myself to open it. If I did, it would be like admitting to myself that everything was real, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to do that yet.

With Darry having gone to work, after much persuasion and Sodapop having just quickly ran to the store. I took this small window of opportunity now, to get up out of bed and stretch my legs. I walked around mine and Soda's room a couple of times. After being in bed for a week, I was not the most steadiest person on my feet. I wobbled over to the chair by my desk and sat. That was enough leg stretching for me.

I breathed deeply, recovering what little strength I had. Man I needed something to read, and something that I hadn't already read at least twice. It was then that I remembered a book that I had put in my desk draw. Eagerly I pulled my draw out, but unfortunately to far. The contents of which spilled out all over the floor. Sighing exasperatedly, I bent down to pick up all the scattered items and replaced them in the draw. Boy did I have a lot of junk hidden away.

The last item I picked up was a folded up piece of paper. My breath caught and my heart hammered against the wall of my chest. I knew exactly what this was. I had never handed it in, it had always been to personal to me - a part of my life that I did not want to share with anybody else - and possibly even more so now.

Taking a deep breath and with shaky hands, I open up the sheet of paper. It was entitled; 'The Bravest People I Know. By Ponyboy Curtis.' I read on, letting the words wash over me, my breath shallow and tears flowing freely from my eyes. I reached the end and proceeded to read the last sentence a further three times. In spite of my tears, sorrow and anguish, I smiled. I remembered the newspaper headline the day after Johnny, Dally and I had saved those kids from the burning church in Windrixville; 'JUVANILE DELINQUENTS TURN HEROS'. Finally people had seen the bravery in Johnny and Dally that had always been there. Neither might have wanted to be hero's, but both had been recognized as so. To me though, they had never been anything but.