Author's Note: Hey, welcome to my story! This oneshot is actually my first Outsiders fanfic, and it's sort of a prequel to a prequel I'll be writing soon. I saw plenty of lovely works set after the events of the book, so I figured I'd write my take on what happened prior to everything.
My endless appreciation goes to those wonderful people who read and review! It fills me with determination to continue writing, so please do if you have a spare moment, enjoy my work, and/or just wish to provide constructive criticism! :)
Disclaimer: All rights go to S.E. Hinton, and - prepare for spoilers - I'm not her. I don't own The Outsiders.
Distantly, Ponyboy heard his name being called, each one more incessantly annoying than the last. His only desire was to bury his nose in his book and forget the world existed. Such luxuries can only last so long, however; tonight was New Year's Eve, meaning the gang would be meeting up at the park to share their resolutions.
"Ponyboy!"
That time, Ponyboy's head snapped up from the text, and he took a minute to survey the area, the new addition being an impatient-looking Sodapop. "I could've sworn there were naked girls on that page, the way you were absorbed in it!" His restless behavior was met with a half-questioning, half-grumpy stare from Ponyboy, and in response, Soda's expression seemingly melted into something softer. "Aw, Pone, don't get sore. I was just funning you, but we do have to get goin' soon."
Ponyboy knew there was no protesting it, not when Soda had his mind made that they were going to hit the road soon. Besides, it wouldn't be New Year's Eve if they were the last ones to arrive - that honor rightfully belonged to Dallas Winston, and he didn't want to be the one to break that tradition which ranked right alongside sharing their resolutions.
Turning the book over against the desk to save his page, Ponyboy forced himself from the chair. "Sure, Soda," he complied, "I'm comin'.."
Soda seemed to brighten considerably before bounding from the bedroom, undoubtedly en route back into the living room. His suspicions were confirmed as he drew nearer to the doorway and picked up on a piece of the exchange:
"I got Ponyboy! C'mon, Darry, let's go. Don't you wanna share your resolution with the guys?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got a real good one too, little buddy. I'm gonna stop letting my kid brother," there was a deliberate pause, "tell me what to do and when to do it."
Despite the seriousness of Darry's tone, Ponyboy was acquainted with the subtle, underlying jest, and attributed it to his strange sense of humor. It'd always been there but rarely did it show, since Soda was the most likely of all the gang to get it to shine through Darry's stony exterior.
As Ponyboy exited the bedroom and joined his brothers, he grinned at the sight. Their walls, windows, and furniture were still littered with holiday decorations, and a holiday-themed record droned on in the background. From the kitchen, the scent of cookies and the pleasant humming of his mother infiltrated the living room. Nobody seemed to care that it'd nearly been a week since December twenty-fifth.
Darry was preoccupied with helping their father strip the tree of garland, and Soda was exercising his nuisance-privilege by wrapping Darry in the excess garland that'd dropped to the floor. Darry appeared irritated but didn't say anything, and Ponyboy observed the amusement under his sharp features. Soda must've too, otherwise he wouldn't continue to push his luck.
"Don't be out too long," came an even voice to interrupt his train of thought, and Soda's efforts to make Darry into a human tree were deterred by their father's request. "You boys should be lending a hand in taking down the decorations like Darrel here," his eyes flicked knowingly to Soda, "not starting another mess, Pepsi-Cola."
Ponyboy chuckled at that and momentarily, the attention in the room had refocused on him. "Soda actually helpin' out would be nothing short of a Christmas miracle," he commented with a faint smile, too contagious to pass up.
Sticking his tongue out at Ponyboy, a comical pout manifested itself on Soda's face but rapidly dissipated again, and the middle Curtis brother nudged Darry, "So, can we go now?" Almost as an afterthought, he went on, "Promise we won't be gone long, Dad."
Mr. Curtis accepted it with a pensive nod, consumed in the task at hand: removing each ornament from the tree. Ponyboy identified him as a father who'd never been overly-concerned with his children's whereabouts but found solace in knowing where they'd be and when they'd return.
Through a mixture of uncomfortable mutterings and his tendency of becoming the ghost of the establishment whenever their friends were over, Ponyboy concluded their father didn't necessarily approve of the gang they drifted toward, but he had always been permissive about it.
It was a huge difference in his parents. His mother tolerated-hell, enjoyed-their presence, especially Dallas Winston's. On the street, Dallas was rough around the edges and didn't take shade from anybody, but around Mrs. Curtis, he transformed into the perfect gentleman.
Ponyboy didn't understand why. Perhaps she saw a radiance in Dally and was steadfast to bring out the best in him, or was charmed by his mask, but either way the result of him visiting was walking away with the Curtis' chocolate cake or another dessert. His mother seemed to live by the philosophy that the road to a man's heart was his stomach.
Realizing he'd been gazing off into space, Ponyboy blinked and was brought back when Darry shook him gently. "Sometimes I swear this kid's brain spends more of its time in the clouds than with us. We're gonna get going, Pony." During the spell he'd been thinking about their mother, Darry had somehow freed himself from the confines of the garland but was left with small, glittering pieces scattered on his clothing. "What're you looking at?"
"Nothin'," Ponyboy replied, shooting Soda a lopsided smirk, which was initially responded to with confusion until he noticed the bits of decoration hitching a ride on Darry.
Although appearing suspicious, the eldest brother didn't hound for answers and advanced to grab his coat and toss it to Ponyboy. "Here," Darry stated, "you need it more than I do tonight." Soda followed suit by slipping on his own. Tulsa's weather was never terribly violent, but it could get brutal during the evenings.
As Ponyboy shuffled into his coat, a melodic inquiry reverberated from the kitchen, "Are you leaving already? Oh!" His mother popped in the doorway of the living room, blue eyes dancing from her husband to her sons. "Tell Dally I said 'hello' and that I'll have leftover cookies for him if he comes by soon!" Quickly had she come, and quickly was she gone again. She never spared time to rest, constantly busy and full of life, even if she could get strict at times.
Unlike their father, Ponyboy never saw her as the type to be as worried about how late they were staying out; she definitely cared about her children but didn't take it to such an extreme. But then again, she would be the first to dish out a punishment, whereas the most they'd get from their father was a scolding. She was more carefree like Soda but ruled with an iron first. Ponyboy always found that tough to digest, although he got along well with both his parents—Darry was not only the spitting image of Mr. Curtis but shared many of his traits, whereas Soda seemed to adopt Mrs. Curtis's, minus her overprotective and sometimes stern nature.
"We will," Ponyboy promised, buttoning the snaps on his coat and heading toward the door to join his brothers where Soda was lingering, impatience written all over him as he shifted from foot to foot.
Like a two ends of a magnet, Soda was moving from the doorway and into the night air as Ponyboy neared them. "We can make up some time if we take-" he was cut off by Darry, who likely sensed where that was going, or saw Soda's longing gaze pointed toward his car.
"We can walk, Soda." Darry said frankly, leaving little room for argument. "We got legs, don't we?"
Ponyboy stepped out after Darry, letting the screen door slam behind him. A shiver wracked through his body, and he was grateful for the coat maintaining at least some of his warmth. He believed it didn't matter much for people like Soda, who had enough energy to power through any amount of chilly weather, or Darry, who was thick enough to combat against it.
"Yeah, but she's got a new carburetor!" Soda gushed, excitement over the vehicle still very obvious. It was technically Darry's, a graduation gift from their parents. Drag racing was Darry's second way of proving himself, the first being rumbles, and whether he was fond of it or not, he had Soda as his racing passenger. "Steve just put one in, said it was his way of thankin' me for fixing his engine back in October. And besides," he went on, despite how they were leaving the driveway in the dust and starting toward the park, "she's gotta get all warmed up for the race that's coming up."
In the illuminations of the moon and street lamps, Ponyboy saw Darry's lips curved up in a cross between a smirk and grimace but knew he wasn't going to budge on his ruling. Ponyboy offered in mock consolation, "I guess Darry wants her to stay in one piece."
"More importantly," Darry interjected, "I want to stay in one piece." Chuckles from the three brothers chimed in with the sounds of the evening, which consisted of a train in the distance, a dog barking, the wind's hollow song, and a police siren.
The latter caused Ponyboy to jokingly theorize, "Dally must be out and about tonight." And another round of laughter passed through the group, but silence soon washed over them as they went further from the house and closer to the park, where they saw a figure sitting in the darkness.
Ponyboy recognized him immediately, breaking into a trot in the direction of his friend on the grass. Falling to his knees to join him, he greeted, "Hey, Johnnycake. How long have you been waiting here?"
Johnny's vision settled on Ponyboy's, surveying his friend with a hollow smile. Ponyboy could spot the dim beginnings of a bruise forming near his friend's eye. "Not for that long," he responded, "just came early to get away from everything, you know?" It didn't require an outright report on what was going on; the vague excuse was detailed enough.
That'd been about the time Soda and Darry strolled up to sit, forming a semi-circle with Soda next to Ponyboy, and Darry between Soda and Johnny. "Our door's always open." Ponyboy stated seriously, as if he hadn't told him a million times over. Johnny knew he could go to the Curtis household if he found himself without a place to crash. "Mom and Dad wouldn't care a lick, honest."
A hesitant smile touched Johnny's mouth, but there was something sorrowful hiding behind it. "I'm real thankful for that, Pony." Despite the confession of gratitude, Ponyboy didn't think he'd ever be finding Johnny on their couch one morning, however he wasn't willing to push the issue. Home life was a downright hard thing to talk about with the gang. It went without saying, but they were aware of Johnny's abusive parents, Steve's alcoholic ones, and Two-Bit's drug-addicted mother, but nobody could find the right thing to say about it, so they settled on nothing at all.
"Pony's right, Johnny," Darry confirmed with a surprising volume of warmth, "our couch is your couch anytime you need it, okay?" The whole gang loved Johnny, and it was evident Darry did as well. Ponyboy didn't know what they'd do if anything happened to him, or to anyone for that matter, being a closely-knit group.
With that said, Soda took to switching sitting positions every couple minutes, Darry surveyed their surroundings, and Johnny and Ponyboy spoke to each other in low mumbles while plucking at dead blades of grass.
A loud crash and subsequent clank of metal resounded down the street, and heads turned to see Steve's beat up truck pulling into the park's parking lot. Two-Bit emerged from the passenger side, Steve from the driver's. Two-Bit carried something suspiciously similar to a case of beer in his grasp as he twirled his switchblade in the other. A snippet of their conversation could be caught as they neared the group. "...because of your damn car. Now you're not only bumming money off us, but lifts too." Steve grumbled.
Two-Bit didn't appear fazed. "Ain't my fault you couldn't fix it when I took it into the DX. Sounds like your truck isn't doin' so hot after those Socs got to it, either." Ponyboy supposed he was referring to the deafening noises Steve's truck had been emitting as it'd pulled up.
"Thanks to you and your rotten luck, I'll have to fix it up again. Don't even know what the hell those Socs did to it, but picking up your sorry ass sure ain't helping."
Amusement swept across Two-Bit, and he replied, "Well, whatever was making that noise fell off somewhere down the street and can't hurt you no more." With one look at the group, a chortle erupted from the gang's jokester. "Darry, you're lookin' finer than the gal I saw down on Forty-Fifth and Main."
Stumped, it didn't click with Darry until Two-Bit made a motion to his shirt where the garland's remnants clung. Barely audible above Soda's and Pony's giggles, a low growl escaped, "I'm gonna kill my kid brothers when we get home."
Steve looked like he had been seconds from cooking up a scathing comment but stopped short, because he and Two-Bit had reached the others. "What's hanging, Soda?" he said, plopping beside him to playfully shove his companion only to receive a punch to the shoulder. Ponyboy wasn't surprised that he'd acknowledged his best buddy first. Steve wasted not a second to mutter, "Guess who had to hitch a ride with me and then had to pick up beer?"
"The one and only," Two-Bit cut in dramatically, striking a ridiculous gallant pose, "Two-Bit Matthews! And hey, beer was the only way I'd be able to survive a ride with him." Sliding to join the others on the grass, he brought his case of beer across his lap and pulled one out for himself. He took a hefty sip after popping the cap off. "For your troubles," he said jovially, passing one to Steve, and tossing another to Johnny. "You look like you could use one, Johnnycake." Johnny didn't seem too interested but accepted it.
Considering the group was aware Soda didn't drink, he was skipped over, although Ponyboy doubted he would've gotten an answer. Soda and Steve were conversing, wrapped up in their chatter about the upcoming drag race and their plans to leave the Socs in the dust. Instead, Two-Bit glanced questioningly to Darry, who shook his head, and the same question was silently redirected to Ponyboy.
Ponyboy weighed his options, however Darry had to have picked up on his indecisiveness and answered for him, "Pony won't be drinking tonight. Will you, little buddy?"
Catching the hint, he determined it wasn't worth fighting his brother on this one. "Mom would get awful mad if I came home drunk." Mrs. Curtis already disliked Two-Bit's habit of drinking, not that she outwardly said so. It was slightly ironic to Ponyboy, given her pull to Dally.
"A lil' booze ain't never hurt anybody." Two-Bit countered, putting the bottle back. "Tell me if you change your mind. If Dally doesn't arrive stoned, I know I can count on him to help me finish off this case."
As if on cue, or maybe Two-Bit had seen him coming, Ponyboy raised his chin to see a figure approaching and correct to his assumption, it was none other than Dally. A puff of smoke pushed past his lips, and he threw away what was remaining of his used cigarette onto the ground without extra deliberation, the motion careless. "What about me finishin' off that case?" He prompted, raising an eyebrow while he mindlessly dug another cigarette from his pocket.
Two-Bit didn't bother to ask if he wanted it, just tossed him a bottle of beer.
"Surprised you didn't bring the cops with you." Ponyboy spoke up, recalling how they'd made out a siren earlier. While he didn't truly believe they'd been after Dally, it wasn't impossible with a track record like his.
Dally paused to take a drag of the cigarette and exhale before responding, "Funny," he muttered dryly, "lost 'em over on Seventh." A dangerously feral grin gleamed his face when he realized he'd gained everyone's interest, and he threw his hands up innocently. "What? They caught me speedin', so I took the fuzz for a ride through the neighborhood. Was sightseeing more than anything, with the decorations still up and all."
Ponyboy's concentration wandered back to their own parents, and he hoped they weren't challenging their trust. They hadn't been given a curfew, but neither would be pleased if he, Soda, and Darry sauntered in during the morning hours.
Apparently, Dally was getting fidgety as well, because he continued. "So, resolutions, huh? Let's get this going. I ain't sticking around here all night to shoot the bull."
On what struck Ponyboy as impulse, Steve jumped in. "I'm gonna whip the Socs a good one when I see 'em next for banging up my truck!" With a whoop, he waved his fist in the air, and Ponyboy could deduce he wasn't kidding when he made that resolution. Steve had never hesitated when it came to revenge.
After taking another substantial swig from the bottle in his possession, Two-Bit went next. "My resolution is to drown myself in this here booze tonight. It wouldn't be New Year's Eve if I didn't drink a whole case." He seemed to consider for a second or two, looking proud. "And my other resolution is to go another year without a job. If I wasn't always around," a wide smile, and he slang an arm around Steve, "who'd light up Stevie's life like I do?"
"Get off me," Steve growled, shoving Two-Bit away and knocking into Soda in the process, who could hardly contain his laughter. Annoyance was plastered on Steve's face, but a beam of his own threatened to break through as he regarded his best friend. "So what 'bout you, Soda?"
Once Soda'd calmed down, he looked lost in thought before bursting back to life. "Make enough money at the stables to buy Mickey Mouse. Then I could beat the Socs in races with my car-"
"My car," Darry corrected.
Soda spared him a sideways glance and huff. "Superman's car, and I could hop on Mickey Mouse to prove to 'em how a true champ wins a race."
Ponyboy processed that, but he knew full well it was an impossibility. Soda would never come up with the money in time and had said his boss was dropping hints about selling Mickey Mouse—and unfortunately, it was painfully clear he wasn't selling him to Soda. Not too long ago, Ponyboy remembered Soda had aimed to run the idea by their parents but chickened out, because a horse wasn't high on the list of importance when there were bills pending in payment. Most often Soda was oblivious to the struggles of the everyday man, but he wasn't totally blind to them, and in the end, he had been unable to confront their mother and father on the subject.
It occurred to him that Soda's resolution was a simple statement for a complex dilemma. Above everything else in the world, he wanted to keep everyone happy, afloat, and maintain stability, but it usually sacrificed his own happiness. Mickey Mouse was the temporary object of a permanent problem in the Curtis family.
Stirred from his stupor by Johnny shaking his shoulder, he internally cursed as he realized he'd been too trapped within his analyzing of Soda to remember to contribute his resolution.
"Read the books I got for Christmas." Ponyboy shrugged. The expectant expression from Darry was enough to get the cogwheels turning, wondering what he'd failed to mention. Because Darry had fretted over his schoolwork more frequently than their parents, he figured it had something to do with that. "..Keep up to date on assignments." Ponyboy guessed, which earned him an approving glance from the eldest brother and a few snickers from the gang. They were quelled by Darry's intimidating stare.
He went next, casually mentioning the resolution as if he'd thought about it in great depth prior to his turn. Knowing Darry, Ponyboy wouldn't put it beyond him to plan even the least significant things, like this. "I've decided to teach you hoodlums what I learned from my acrobats class. It might come in handy for rumbles."
Given Darry's method of attack was calculated rather than doing his best impersonation of a bulldozer (as Steve's was), it made sense. "You might be onto something." Ponyboy mentioned and had cut off Johnny as he'd begun to speak.
Trying again, Johnny started, "My resol-"
A chortle escaped Two-Bit, and he humored the idea, "The Socs won't know what hit them when we're too busy doing flips down the street to rumble."
And again. "My res-"
"You know that wasn't what I meant, Two-Bit." Darry indicated seriously. "Anything that gives us an advantage is a major strategy."
"Tweedledum and Tweedledee, will you two shut up?" Dally snapped, grinding his cigarette into the ground. "Johnny wants to share his resolution." He slapped a palm to Johnny's back affectionately, or at least as affectionately as someone like Dallas Winston could manage. "Go ahead and tell 'em, Johnnycake."
Johnny laughed. "I was only gonna say my resolution is to keep you outta too much trouble, Dally."
Dally's face twisted in what could be closest described as disgust. "Hey, kid, I don't need you—or anybody—lookin' out for me." The words didn't possess the same edge as they would if Dally had truly been upset by Johnny's resolution. "I'm fine on my own, ya hear?" Without giving Johnny a sufficient opportunity to speak, Dally went on. "All I'm hopin' for this year is to win back the money I owe Buck."
There seemed to be enough collective intelligence to avoid asking why exactly Dally owed Buck. It wasn't as if they would've gained a straight, truthful answer unless Dally was willing to provide one.
The night dragged on, and the group did nothing but enjoy each other's company. Steve swapped between banter with Two-Bit while chatting with Soda, and Darry managed to strike up a debate with Two-Bit when he wasn't hurling playful retaliation insults at Steve. Dally busied himself with his smokes, occasionally complaining about how he was thirsty and could be robbing a gas station instead of sticking around here. With the exception of a short-lived conversation with Dally, Johnny remained quiet.
Ponyboy was back to daydreaming, mulling over each and every resolution. One thing he was certain of: they were liars in their individual ways, although the resolutions themselves weren't dishonest. They just served as the cover for a heartfelt wish.
Of course he wished to read the books he'd been given as Christmas present, however stating he would strive to form a closer relationship with Darry and their father wouldn't have been acceptable. Just like Johnny couldn't have said he wanted his home life to get better, and Steve wouldn't have dared say anything about his parents' potential divorce. Despite Darry's courage, even Ponyboy could tell he was withholding something of greater significance—namely, his desire to meet their parents' expectations.
Tuning back in, Ponyboy focused on Dally. "I wasn't fooling about that gas station business." He said to the others but nobody in particular, getting up from his spot and lighting another cigarette. Stalking off, he called over his shoulder, "Get over here Johnnycake, I'll walk ya home. It's on the way." Half-hearted, tired goodbyes echoed throughout the gang.
Much like the lies told in the form of resolutions, nobody questioned it, faking obliviousness to the common knowledge that Johnny's home wasn't on the route to the gas station.
Darry was the next to rise to his feet, and he offered Ponyboy a hand, then did the same for Soda. "We've still got decorations to pack away." Was his remarkably plain explanation for leaving. "We better get a jump start on it, seeing as Soda'll be treating us to his shenanigans the whole time." A tell-tale glance down at his shirt where he'd dusted off the garland glitter was all that was needed to be clued into what he was referring to.
After a prompting nudge forward from Darry, they were already on the path back to the Curtis home when they heard someone talking again. "I think I'm gonna head out too." Two-Bit announced, wobbling only slightly as he moved to stand.
From over his shoulder, Ponyboy could note Steve appeared quizzical and hadn't moved from where he was seated on the grass. "Oh, yeah? How you figurin' on doing that when you bummed a ride off me?"
Although he assumed Two-Bit had a witty reply, he and his brothers were out of range to hear it.
Somewhere in the back of their minds, Ponyboy had a notion everyone knew there were more important things in the world than horses, trucks, beer, or acrobatics. It was simply easier to pretend everything was okay, that everyone lived a picture-perfect life. The harsh truth had no place within their gang, but neither did ignorance. Beyond guarded exteriors, endless joy, wisecracking, soft-spoken kindness, and abrasive behavior, there was a fragility. It was an implicit understanding between them.
As greasers, their lives weren't great, but having the unvoiced support of the gang could fabricate the illusion that it was. And in moments such as these, continuing toward home in the peace of the night, Ponyboy appreciated that illusion.