Std disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Outsiders (book or movie, characters, TV scripts, or anything else). This story is a "jump off" from the (sadly) short-lived TV show, The Outsiders. This story opens w/ a recap of an episode of that show titled "He was a Greaser, Only Old". Soda is shot, and Pony's to blame. My videos of this show have worn down and are no longer viewable, so I probably have gotten some names and other small details wrong. And this is the aftermath. Ponyboy's POV
Have you ever messed up so big there's no making it up? Sometimes, I think it's my specialty.
It all started with Tim Shepard. Darry and Tim have been friends since they were kids, but even Darry says most trouble starts with Tim.
I'd been working for the railroad part time after school. The foreman didn't ask how old I was, and I didn't offer it up. Paid workers like me worked up on the bridge build while the county had a chain gang working down below. All the wardens like to tease and taunt the cons. I figured that even if they'd done wrong, it was no reason to treat them like dogs. I mean, Tim's been in jail more than once, but he's a real guy, too. He's got feelings. Pride. Pain. Dreams. The wardens don't care, though.
I stood against the railing that afternoon, looking down at the cons. I was sweating rivers in just my jeans and t-shirt, so I can't imagine what those cons were feeling in their head-to-toe, long-sleeved denims. Baking alive, I'd reckon. McMasters, the chief deputy warden, was the meanest of them all. He stooped down to gulp water from the ladle, and the two cons closest to him watched with obvious longing. When he finished, just to yank their chains, McMasters dumped the rest on the ground, just wasting it. I felt thirsty just watching it. Only thing was, all I had to do was just stroll on over and drink from the drum cooler just off the bridge.
I was still thinking about it as I started the 2 mile walk home, but I came across Tim at the side of the road, hood up on his old Chevy. Talk about a guy that can't catch a break!
He'd just come back from the joint, and his mother turned him out of the house. He tried to show her he'd changed in there this time, that he wanted to make a fresh start. But she just told him he was just like his father….useless. He was too proud to move in with us, even though Darry told him he could have the sofa until he got on his feet. He'd been sleeping in his car most nights. But he'd gotten a job at the power plant, and now he's got a tiny place about a mile from ours.
"Hey," Tim greeted, chewing his trademark toothpick. "What's up at the railroad, kid?"
I grinned. "Just headin' home. Darry's waitin' on my pay. After fixing his truck last month, he's still coming up short on rent. So I'm helpin' out."
"Bum luck for you, huh?"
I shrugged. "It's just until next month, anyway. The bridge'll be finished by then, and nothing else for us to do."
About then the hot little Corvair convertible we'd been watching rumble down the road eased up beside us, and Miss Cherry Valance gave us a smile. She and Tim…well, they're about like she and Dally used to be before he was killed. They get all charged up around each other. They bicker like brother and sister, except I'm pretty sure if Cherry wasn't such a good girl, so afraid of appearances and what her folks would think, she'd be wearing Tim's ring.
"Hey, Ponyboy," she said, smiling in that way of hers…the one that makes me ask myself why I'm not head-over-heels for her, myself. Well. Maybe I was, for a time. But anymore she's just a girl who savvies real good. Probably the only girl I'll ever be able to open my mouth around.
I just nodded at her and smiled.
"Hey, Red," Tim greeted lazily. "Whatcha doin' round these parts?" He put on the drawl more than usual with her.
"Just finishing up at the stables," she said, her usual chilly self when it came to Tim. "Now I'm heading into town to pick up a few things from the A & P. Need a ride in?"
I noticed Tim had pulled a gas can from the trunk of his car, along with a shirt. Up to now he'd been tinkering bare chested under the hood, but even Tim knew you needed clothes on if you were going to get in the car with a lady. But he tossed the shirt through the window of the car, onto the driver's seat and then squinted up at the sky and said it was a good day for a walk.
"It's four miles!" She laughed.
"So?" he asked, patting his flat stomach. Him and Darry have a lot in common there. Nothing to be ashamed about going shirtless.
Cherry's smile faded. "What? No gas money?"
Tim rose up from where he'd been leaning against the door of his car, and his eyes went flat and cold in the way that I remembered but hadn't seen since he got out jail this last time. "I may be a greaser, honey, but I've got a good job at the plant. I manage to save a few bits."
That told me Tim didn't have gas money. Anytime a guy gets his back up over money, it's because he ain't got any. Tim turned back to get his shirt, and I flipped open my wallet and grabbed the first bill I found without looking at it. I slid it easily into his hand, away from Cherry's patient gaze. He flashed me a grin, then ambled over to put the hood down. Then he grabbed the gas can and his old leather jacket and tossed them on the floorboard behind the passenger seat.
"What say, Pony? Wanna tag along? After I gas up, I can give you a ride home."
"Nah," I shook my head. "Darry's waitin' on me. Catch up later?"
"Sure. Save me some chocolate cake."
I grinned again, and I watched them rumble out of sight on the dusty road. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain it to Darry, but it was just a buck, after all. Just enough to get Tim by until he got paid on Friday.
Well, I probably don't have to tell you that I didn't give Tim just a buck. I gave him the five by mistake. Seeing as how I only make seven dollars a day, it was a pretty big mistake. Darry lit into me but good over it, spouting his usual "you don't ever use your head" crap and asking me where the money went. I told him I lent it to a friend who needed it more than I did.
"Nobody needs this money more than we do!" he yelled, glaring at me with those icy eyes of his.
"Darry," I said, "rent's not due until tomorrow. I can bring you the money straight from work, and you can drop it off at the landlord's on the way home."
Darry glared at me from the sink, his arms folded across his chest in that way that still makes me cringe. When he looks like that you only hope he's not aiming it at you, and since he was aiming it at me, I had to force myself not to fidget. "You'd better be at the site right after the railroad. I mean it, Pony."
I nodded. When he turned back to the dishes, albeit roughly, I let the relief come. But wouldn't you know, not five minutes later, Tim strolled in the door with a six pack, Soda on his heels. He gave one to Darry, who smirked in thanks, and he offered one to Soda, but Soda said no.
"I'll put 'em on ice, though," he said, stowing the six pack in the icebox.
When I gave him my best silent but angry look, he just cracked a grin and said, "There was some change left. Don't look at me like that. I'll pay you back on Friday."
Yep. Darry was right. When there's trouble, there's Tim Shepard.