The Outsiders Christmas Shoes
Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders; S.E. Hinton does. And I don't out the song Christmas Shoes. 💟
* * * A/N: Guess who's back! It's your girl Alee here, emerging out of the deep, dark hole of writers' block briefly to bring you this little Christmas one-shot. Enjoy and please review! :)
Ponyboy's POV (December, 1971)
The warm smell of freshly baked cookies filled my girlfriend's apartment. I slipped my arms behind her back and kissed her forehead. I played with a strip of her curly reddish blond hair, which was pulled back into a loose braid. I flicked a spot flour off of her nose. I traveled back into the living room, bored with watching her cook. I never was very good at sitting still. Or standing still, I guess. I decided to write Christmas cards.
"Shoot!" She exclaimed suddenly, making me mess up on my writing.
"What happened?" I asked her.
"I have two or three dozen more sugar cookies to make, and I'm out of flour," Courtney sighed.
"Yeah, I'll bet, 'cause it's all in your hair," I drawled. She glared at me playfully.
"Would you please just go to the store and grab some more while I stay here and frost?" She gave me puppy dog eyes.
"Sure, it's just down the street," I responded. I grabbed my sweatshirt and threw it on as I walked out the door. As I walked down the street, I could vaguely hear Little Drummer Boy playing and someone dressed as Santa was ringing a bell. I stopped and gave him all of my change, which consisted of a few dimes and a quarter, along with a dollar bill. He flashed me a friendly smile when I wished him merry Christmas.
As I walked into the store, I grabbed the flour and stood in the obnoxiously long line. In front of me stood a small boy with blond hair clad in dirty, torn clothing. He looked to be maybe five or six years old. He placed a pair of shoes on the counter and began counting the money in his pocket. It was just change. About five or so pennies, three nickels, a dime, and a quarter.
"I'd like to buy these for my mama, Sir. Could you hurry, please? Daddy says there ain't much time. She's real sick, ya dig? I want her to look pretty if she meets Jesus tonight," the young boy drawled, making my heart break.
"There ain't enough money here, kid," the cashier said gruffly. The boy looked back at me desperately.
"Sir, mama always makes Christmas special for us. What am I gonna do? I have to get her these shoes."
I placed two dollars on the counter. "Is that enough?" I clarified, slightly demanding. The cashier nodded, bagging up the red shoes. The boy thanked me and ran out of the store excitedly.
I didn't buy the flour. I didn't have enough money left. I walked all the way back to my house and got flour from there. It took two hours, and it was snowing by time I made it to Courtney's house, but I didn't mind one bit; I liked the time to think.
OoOoOoO
The next day, while buying a chocolate bar at the DX, I saw an obituary card read "Cathryn McDaniels. 35 years old. Died December 24, 1971. Survived by her seven year old son, James and..." As I looked at her black and white picture, I recognized the boy from the other day's features on her face.
I took a long walk home to think, backtracking to an area my father used to take Darry, Soda, and I to pick out Christmas trees. With all this thinkin' I was doing, coach was gonna have a field day with me next year bein' so in shape.
A/N: Please review!
Aufenthalt Gold,
~ Alee XxX