The Hoodlum's Law- FraidyCat01

Chapter 1

"When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman, and a ride home," Darry read.

Soda was reading over Darry's shoulder, and looked at me funny when he heard this. Probably 'cause he didn't know what my essay was about. I had to write this paper for school (or I'd fail English bad). My teacher had said that if I came up with a good theme, based on personal experience, then he'd pass me with a C. Coming up with an idea was hard at first, but finally, I decided to make it on the past couple weeks of my life. A lot had happened, and my essay was really long, so when Darry asked to read it, I was kind if surprised. Darry was always real busy, and never had time for reading. He barely even had time for me and Soda, but he had insisted, so I let him, which had seemed fine at the time. But now, as he sat in the rocking chair, engaged in it, with Soda leaning over him, I was starting to think different about the idea. I wrote things in there that I don't mean now, like how I thought Darry didn't love me, and wanted to stick me in a boy's home. And how I didn't care for Dallas Winston much in the beginning. I do now, but maybe I didn't then. Thinking about my essay made me think about how much things have changed since the beginning actually happened. When I was jumped by those Socs, when Cherry Valance asked me and Johnny to sit with her. My stomach gave a lurch. Johnny. Johnny Cade. The same Johnny Cade that died in the hospital only weeks ago. I wanted to forget, believe me, I did. But Johnny had been my buddy, and you just don't forget about these things over night. Sodapop told me I just needed time, but no period of time was going to help. I'll never forget Johnny. Not even when I'm an old man...

"You should've let those Socs give you a haircut, Pony. You sure need it." Sodapop laughed. I only stared at him.

"I do not!" I replied, "Ain't nothing wrong with my hair."

"You do need one, Ponyboy." Darry told me, looking up from my essay. I couldn't tell what he thought of it, and I didn't want to ask. I also didn't want to argue with him, as we promised Soda we wouldn't as much, but cutting my hair was a definite no. Darry and Sodapop had long hair, and needed one too- all of us Greasers did. We never cut our hair. Besides, when we greased it back, it was short enough anyway.

"I don't need a haircut." I said. Darry cracked a smile.

"It's two different colors now that the brown's coming back, kiddo." he said. "And two different lengths. From cutting it with a knife, no doubt. But I have to say, Johnny did a pretty good job on it..." he stopped suddenly and looked at me. "Ponyboy..." his voice was soft, like he expected me to burst into tears then and there. Well let me tell you, I wasn't. I knew he knew Johnny was a touchy subject around me. But sometimes, someone would bring him up out of habit, and I had gotten used to the idea. I could talk about Johnny, I just preferred not to. Same with Dally. I never talked about either of them if I could help it though, because I hated the way people, especially Darry, looked at me when I did. He thought it would bring back memories, which it did, but I was fine. For the most part. Besides, it was Two-Bit I was really worried about. Out of all of us, he was the one who had taken Dally's death the hardest. He didn't talk as much, and had become all moody and just kind of kept to himself. If you knew Two-Bit Matthews, and you knew him well, then you'd know there was something wrong with him. Me and Soda, although we knew that this wasn't the only reason, had a theory that part of Two-Bit's problem was that the police wouldn't give him his switchblade back. We seemed to be the only ones who noticed a change in Two-Bit, however. Darry was too busy to notice anything, and we didn't dare ask Steve, or he'd think we'd gone crazy or something. Steve was his regular self, still hating everything and everyone, but even he had changed some. He had been drinking more, and got arrested all the time. This had started just after Johnny's and Dally's death. Sodapop hadn't changed much, although, he had been keeping up the wisecracks lately. To make up for Two-Bit, I think. I guess we all had our own ways of dealing with Dally and Johnny. Me, well, I just did my best to hide whatever emotions I was feeling, especially around Darry. It did hurt sometimes, but I wasn't about to show it. Greasers have to be good at concealing their emotions. It was what made us tough. So I forced myself to smile.

"It's okay," I told Darry calmly. I nodded to the stack of papers on his lap. "Keep reading." I smiled as Soda's eyes went back to my essay at once. Darry's eyes were on me, studying me, looking for any emotion on my face that would show I wasn't alright. I looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Darry just didn't get that I could stand hearing about Johnny without breaking down. Most of the time.

I glanced out the window. Dusk was beginning to fall, and the sky was a pinkish color from the sunset that was now forming. I stared at it for a while. I loved sunsets because they reminded me of a lot of things. Firstly of Cherry Valance, the only Soc who I could actually talk to about things like this. Secondly, a poem by Robert Frost called Nothing Gold Can Stay. I loved that poem, especially now that its meaning was clearer. Thirdly, and for tonight only, that sunset reminded me that our clock was broken, and that I really had no idea what time it was. I asked Darry, and before he could answer, Soda cut in.

"7:30." he said. "And that Soc girl really could make you talk. Why'd you tell her about Mickey Mouse?"

I felt my ears go hot. I knew there was a reason that I didn't want them reading this. Mickey Mouse was Soda's horse that got sold a long time ago. Soda didn't like talking about him, but at the moment, he didn't seem angry, so I told him the truth.

"Cherry wanted to know more about you, and Mickey was the first thing that came to my mind. I'm sorry, Soda." I said. I then turned to Darry. "I'm going for a walk, and maybe hunt up Two-Bit to see if he wants to come." Darry looked leery about me going out at this hour, because as soon as you dragged Two-Bit into it, a "little walk" turned into an all-night party, but it wasn't a school night, and Darry gave in.

"Just be careful, and be home by 9:00." he said. "And tell Two-Bit I say hi," he added as I closed the door.

"Will do!" I yelled back. This had become my usual response whenever Darry threw in things like "be careful", or "be home by…", or "Ponyboy, whatever you do, don't…." They were just habits we had both developed. Ever since my concussion, Darry had been way stricter with me. One might say he was overprotective. He had to know where I was every minute of everyday, it seemed like. That was his way of dealing with things, I guess. I had just started down the path in front of the house, when I heard the screen door slam, and then someone was calling my name. I turned and saw Soda who was running towards me.

"Ponyboy," he started. I looked at him.

"What?" I asked, already knowing what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry if I sounded a little rough back there," he said, "It's just that I haven't heard about ol'Mickey in quite some time, and it brought back some old memories. I guess I was just surprised is all." He looked at me, waiting for my response.

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I didn't need to. Both Soda and I knew it was fine. Over the past couple of weeks, everyone in our "gang", as we now referred to ourselves, was trying to be on his best behaviour toward each other. That meant that no matter how much we were hacked off at each other, we just had deal with it in our own way without settling it with fists (which, believe me, is much harder than it sounds when you have people like Two-Bit and Steve in your everyday lives). But, as Sodapop had explained, "We're all we have left now, and if we start in on each other, well then, there's really no hope then, is there?" He told that to me one night after Darry and I were arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes. Darry and I did have our differences, but we hadn't had a real fight in forever, and that was the only time Soda's usually reckless eyes looked dead serious. Probably because Darry and I had promised that we weren't going to fight any more, and I guess what we were doing qualified as fighting. We had now stopped for good, and I mean it, because serious just didn't suit Sodapop at all, and I didn't ever want to see that look in his eyes again.

"C'mon, I'll race ya!" We had just reached the park, and Sodapop thought it would be terribly brilliant to challenge me to a race right then and there. Usually, I'm always up for one, but to tell you the truth, racing was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I wasn't worried about losing—I could whip Soda in running a race any day. Part of it was that I don't think I was fully recovered just yet. I had just gotten over a mild concussion, and sometimes, running gave me a headache. And the other part was that being in the park brought back memories of Bob's death, and Dally sending Johnny and me to Windrixville, and I preferred not to think about that if I didn't need to. When I said I could think of Dally and Johnny without it hurting, I only meant sometimes. There were times when everything I saw reminded me of them, it seemed like. And in those times, it hurt. And I was beginning to think now was one of those times.