Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.
~ If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans. ~ Woody Allen
In 1974, a man is found with his face blown off by a shotgun wielded by a store owner who was trying to avoid being robbed by the man. The man is completely unrecognizable, but his dog tags list him as Sodapop Curtis. The store owner shakes his head sadly, because those Vietnam boys sure are coming home with a thousand screws loose.
In the meantime, Sodapop's family and friends have been searching for him for years since he failed to come home after being discharged. They're devastated to learn he's not only dead, but he has tarnished their memory of him. They never would have figured he'd snap like that, but shortly after, all of them snap in their own ways.
Life goes on, time passes, and before people know it, the year is 2009. Everyone forgets Sodapop Curtis or pretends to. It might sound callous, and maybe it is, but that's the way the world works.
Anyway, 2009 is hectic, especially in the United States. The Great Recession has just hit a year prior, causing everyone to panic, and it brings to light a good many wrongs committed by those in the financial sector. The downside is, of course, that no one else knows how to fix the problems other than the ones who made the mess in the first place. There's no justice to be had, and trust is fractured everywhere.
Emma Brackenridge's trust has been nonexistent since long before the whole recession mess. Her mistrust is rooted in problems closer to home, and it leaves her screwed up.
First her mother leaves her, so she lives with her father.
Only, her father ignores her, if she's lucky.
So, she tries to connect with her much older half siblings, but they hate her.
Finally, she tries to make friends, but she's not pretty, smart, athletic, or cool, and thus remains a social outcast.
She's alone in the world, leading her to contemplate suicide by age ten. She tells her half-sister, Meg, the daughter from her father's third wife, about her suicidal thoughts, but Meg is not sympathetic.
"Just don't make a mess," Meg says coldly. "Blood's hard to wash out."
Emma doesn't bring it up again, but the thoughts don't leave. On her twelfth birthday, she comes close to overdosing on her father's sleeping pills. In the end, she chickens out, feeling very much like a coward, but she can't deny the cold relief that comes with her decision to live.
"One more day," she starts to say every night. "I'm gonna try for one more day, and maybe it'll be good."
One more day of being harassed by that popular jerk at school.
One more day of waiting for her mother to call or send an E-mail or even a text.
One more day of having Meg call her a bastard because Emma's mother is the only one their father didn't marry.
One more day of Emma's dad telling her once again that he should get another paternity test done just to make sure she's his, because he can't believe someone so stupid shares his DNA.
"You're even dumber than your mother," he's fond of saying, "and not even half as pretty."
This goes on for two years, and it all leads to one more day of living and failing.
Elsewhere in 2009, in Tulsa to be exact, Mrs. Gage is a widowed teacher in her fifties. She's not one of those who absolutely loves the kids she teaches. She actually doesn't like most kids, but every now and then, one or two will just steal her heart away as much as her own children did when they were born. She lives for those kids.
They're not always the gifted kids either. A lot of times they're the slow learners, the ones everyone calls dumb. She knows them in ways she could spend all day trying to explain. The simplest way to put it is, she was those kids once.
That's not to say she doesn't appreciate the gifted ones, those who just want a bit of guidance from an unbiased, non-judgmental third party. She just knows they end up okay nine times out of ten. They don't need her as much.
No, the so-called stupid kids are the ones she focuses on. For instance, there's one boy in her class named Brandon who has such insight about the books they talk about. The poor boy just can't read, not well at least.
"Ms. Shepard?" the stuffy man behind the desk addresses her.
"It's Mrs. Gage," she corrects him, gracefully hiding her annoyance. "I haven't been a Shepard in a long time."
He fights back a scowl with only partial success. "Did you hear all I said?"
"Yes, of course. My home fulfills my brother's parole requirements, but there'll be random checkups, especially over the course of the next few months, just to make sure he's not returning to his old habits."
Mr. Stuffy doesn't look pleased she was able to repeat back what he said almost verbatim. Too bad. She's been a master of memorizing while only giving a person half her attention since she was ten.
"Well, I'm glad you understand. Hopefully this goes well, but we usually hold stricter policies for compassionate release for a reason, and your brother is..." he leaves the sentence hanging.
Angela smiles. "Yes, he's a criminal no one would generally lift a finger to help, but I created such a fuss the system finally released him just to stop dealing with me. Honestly, he's got stage four lung cancer, what damage do you expect him to do?"
"You'd be surprised," Mr. Stuffy grunts, thoroughly annoyed with the woman in front of him. She's nothing but trash, but she trapped a big fish when she was younger, and now she thinks she's hot shit. Well, he still hears stories about her, and she should get off her damn high horse.
"I'm sure I wouldn't actually," she says dryly.
"Whatever you say, Ms. Shepard."
"Bless your heart," she says, flashing him her prettiest smile. She's imagining ripping his face off.
Stuffy gets all in a huff and tells her Tim's release paperwork will be complete within the week.
Angela sighs and wonders just what shit storm she's inviting into her life. Tim's been incarcerated since before she got married the second time, for reasons she's still shaky on, and now he's dying. There's gonna be an adjustment period for sure, and she hopes they can both handle it.
Also in Tulsa, a man is in bed, wondering how he ended up next to a beautiful woman. It's not that he doesn't remember the previous night. On the contrary, he remembers it with absolute clarity. He just doesn't know how he continually gets lucky with a woman who's twenty years younger than him.
The woman's name is Anita, and she stirs, opening her eyes and smiling at him. "Morning."
They've been doing this for two years, and he's still not entirely used to waking up with her. "Morning."
"What time is it?" Anita asks, stretching leisurely.
He shrugs. "Maybe 'bout nine?"
"Well at least I don't work today," she says. "Guess we should still get up, though."
He's been thinking the same thing for the past thirty minutes, but suddenly the idea of getting up is offensive. "Or we could just stay here for a bit."
"Sure," Anita says, not making a big deal out of it, out of them.
She's so easy going, if he didn't know any better, he'd say she never makes a big deal about anything. He never would've thought he'd be the one in a relationship who's always overthinking and wondering what they are, but maybe it's being sixty and unmarried with no kids or any other family to speak of that's making him so damn eager to hold onto this, whatever the hell this is.
'It's a relationship, dumbass,' says a voice in his head.
Who'd of thought he'd ever have a relationship lasting for more than a few months? Longest girlfriend he ever had was Evie, and she didn't even last a year, not that he blames her. He doesn't blame any of his past girlfriends.
He's not an easy person to get along with. Most days he's an asshole, something that's not improved with age, and he has a reputation for being a surly old man. Then some do-gooder doctor moves in next door and starts worming her way into his life for reasons no one can begin to guess at.
It confuses him to the point where he asks her outright one day why she bothers with him, why she likes screwing him, why she brightens his day like it's her mission on earth.
She just grins. "I like you, idiot."
"But why?" he presses, needing a reason, feeling vulnerable and hating it.
She loses the smile and gets serious. "You're honest, kind in your own way, and you don't play games. Do you know how hard it is to find someone like that?"
He's old, and he'll probably die before she can break his heart, so he lets himself go. He's an asshole, but she likes him, and he can live with that.
That's why he just stays in bed that morning. There's no rush, no pressure, and it makes him smile, pull her to him, and bury his face in her hair, enjoying the lazy morning. He never thought it'd happen, but sixty years after birth, Steve Randle is finally happy.
In contrast to Steve's happiness, Darrel Curtis is sad. He's been sad for about three years now after watching his wife die. Cancer is a bitch.
He's just so grateful for his kids. They keep him going, urging him to hang in there, because they don't want to bury another parent. Because they want their children to know who he is from more than just pictures.
Darry's still strong, and he still holds to the logic of not letting the world end just because you lose someone, but it's hard. It's damn hard.
"Maybe you should go out," says his oldest son, Travis, after their weekly Sunday dinner.
Darrel shrugs. "Where to?"
It's a relevant question. Darrel doesn't have many places to be these days, having retired early so he could spend more time with his wife though her sickness.
"Golfing?" Travis suggests with a mischievous grin.
Darrel snorts. Despite his natural athletic abilities, he's an awful golfer. He's been kicked out of two golf courses already for losing his temper and breaking his clubs, disturbing the so-called peace the course offers to its other members.
"Yeah, maybe not," Travis says, shaking his head fondly at his father.
"He does have a high school reunion coming up," says Marie, his son's pregnant wife who is currently washing Darry's dishes, despite his earlier protests about her not needing to worry about the mess in the sink.
The golf course might be preferable. Darrel hasn't been to any of his reunions, not having anything to say to those fakes and phonies and everyone he thought was his friend. He's finished with them just as much as they're finished with him.
"It could be nice," Marie claims.
"How?" grunts Darrel.
"Finishing unfinished business."
"Like what?"
Marie smirks. "Like letting everyone know you turned out okay without them, letting them know you didn't need them and never did."
Perhaps Marie's only flaw is how vindictive she can be, but it stems from how protective she is over family. She's always quick to defend them, whether it's her family by blood, marriage, or the strong bonds of friendship. Once she'd heard about Darry's struggles when he was younger, taking care of his brothers and such, she's always thought very little of anyone who 'just lost touch' with him along the way.
"I don't need to prove anything," Darrel says, reproach in his tone, even though the idea is tempting. "That's not why I worked so hard."
Travis shrugs. "Maybe not, but it's one hell of a perk, no?"
Darry smiles. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
Marie nods, her job done. "Just ask Leni to help you pick out what to wear."
"I can dress myself, thanks," Darry says, but he'll call Leni over anyway just to have an excuse to see her.
Helen, affectionately known as Leni, is his princess. As a single mother, she's always busy, but she never fails to come over when he needs her.
It's his youngest boy that's flakey, but not much can be done there. It's Hank's nature to be forgetful, and Darry pauses a minute, thinking of another boy who used to be the same way.
Then Darry sighs and tries not to remember anymore. Ponyboy might still breathe out there in California, but he died with Soda. Darry needs to accept that and move on. The world doesn't end just because you lose someone.
So this is a wacky idea that came to me. I was originally gonna wait on posting this until I had more of it done, but I haven't written much in months, and I wanted to do something. If this first chapter is confusing, I apologize, and I hope things become clearer as the story goes on. Hope y'all enjoy!