Compilation of Secrets
Lucy Marie Curtis
He was always a good guy. Friendly, and the most utterly charming man I have ever known. A man true to his word with a wonderful mind. He was forever thinking, wondering, and contemplating the world around him. But Dad always had his problems. Even when I was a young girl, I could recognize the scent of Tom Collins on his breath. I didn't think anything of it though. I admired the smell of a man in my little world so full of boys.
I still don't know if Darry was even old enough to understand what was really going on; Dad always staying out late; his nasty temper when we turned the radio up to loud or when my hair drifted into my face at the dinner table. The boys don't ever talk about it. Some days I wish they would, that way I'd know that I'm not the only one who remembers.
He never hit us, Dad didn't. Sometimes though, in one of his fits, he would threaten to whoop us real good. That's all, nothing worse, but it would scare the shit out of us just the same. Before we would go to bed on those nights, Mom would come in to check on us more then usual, smiling through the worry in her eyes. She was our protector.
Many nights, when Dad was out late again, I could hear Mom crying in her room. When I was really young, I didn't understand why. I would ask Sodapop about it, but he would just shake his head. So I would crawl under the covers with Ponyboy and pull my pillow over my head, that way I wouldn't hear the sniffles through the paper-thin walls.
Teachers would continuously send notes home with Pony and me. We were too shy, too quiet in class and people would worry. One time, during the forth grade science fair when Pony had to present his cardboard box hotdog cooker, he stood up with his speech and he just started to cry. He broke down and sobbed in front of the entire class.
The school called my mother and they sent Pony home for the day. I cried too, just so I could go home with him. And the next year, when we weren't placed in the same class like in the years past, I suffered severe separation anxiety. I was sent to the counselor's office seventeen times in the first quarter alone. Seventeen.
The day that the police came to the door giving us the news about our parents, I cried. But over the next few weeks, when the dinner table became calm, I felt an odd sense of relief. I relaxed for the first time since I could remember.
I don't know why. I'll never tell the boys, but I blame a lot of shit on Dad. Somehow, I feel like I wouldn't be nearly as screwed up if he hadn't been yelling at us all time. Maybe, I won't be so scared all of the time. Maybe, Pony wouldn't be dreaming his life away. There are other things too. Sometimes, I can't walk to the park by myself or I can't read in my room without locking the door. Or how I can never say 'I'm sorry'. And Johnny; I could never let Johnny touch me the way he wanted to.
Like today for example while I sit here on one end of the couch while Johnny sits on the other. Darry's not going to be home from work for an hour and I just know John is itching to make-out again. But you know Johnny, he'd never admit to anything like that. I can just tell, though, by the way his eyes wander from the television to me every once in a while.
He's examining me, testing my boundries like he is so often forced to do, but I don't shift closer to him. He knows by how silent I am and by the way I keep sighing softly; today is one of those days. An off-limits, no touching permitted day. I feel terribly guilty. It's not like I choose to be like this every few weeks. I've tried to deny my feelings on days like this, but it always turns out miserably.
One day, a few months ago, I let his kiss me despite what the feeling in the pit of my stomach told me. Very bad. A few minutes after Johnny and I got lost in our typical hot and heavy make-out session on the floor in my bedroom, he pulled away.
I opened my eyes to have him gazing at me sympathetically.
"What?" I questioned.
He didn't say anything, but he rubbed his thumb across my cheek and showed me a drop of moisture that glistened on his finger. Steady trails of burning tears were rolling off of my face.
"I think we should stop," he said softly.
I nodded.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" he asked.
"No," I said, staring at the carpet pathetically.
He reached out to touch my face again, but I flinched and pulled away.
"Okay," he spoke after a short, uncomfortable silence, "I'll see you later then."
"Alright," I mumbled, still not meeting his eyes.
I was ashamed. When Darry came home from work, I claimed that I was sick and I crawled into bed. Sleeping was the only way to stop the tears from continuing.
So today, when I avoid communication or contact of any sort, Johnny doesn't question me. He just watches TV until Pony gets home from the library and they head over to the Nightly Double. I'm kind of angry because they didn't bother to invite me, but I guess It would have been really awkward if I had gone with them because Pony still doesn't know about Johnny and me. The only one who really knows is Sodapop, but he's over in Vietnam fighting the war, so he won't tell. I do think that Darry is suspicious, but he doesn't ask, so I'm not spilling.
Darry is out tonight with his long-time girlfriend, Anne. I'm all alone in the house, but I don't mind too much. I sit on the couch with a bag of potato chips, watching soap operas. That's right. I'm what you would call a soap addict. I'd never tell the guys. Gawd, they'd crack jokes at me until the end of time. I don't even know why I bother watching such poorly-made made-for-TV movies. I guess it's just nice to know that there are people more messed up then I am.
It's about midnight before I finally decide to crawl into the bed that Pony and I share. I moved into his room when Pony started having nightmares again. Truth be told, I was thankful. I'd been having nightmares too.
I wake up early in the morning. The sky is still dark outside and a furious rain is pounding on the roof. I wonder if Johnny is safe and dry somewhere and I continue wondering until I finally give in and get up to check.
"Where are you going?" Pony asks, sleepily.
"I'm just getting a glass of water," I say.
He rolls back over and drifts into sleep again. I creak open my bedroom door and move softly into the living room.
"Johnny?" I ask as I poke the lump that lies on the couch.
"Whadda want," A voice grumbles, muffled by the sheets. It's Two-bit.
"Have you seen Johnny?" I question.
"No," he says shortly, "Prob'ly in the lot."
There isn't a second thought that goes through my brain after that. Let's just say that I am not too bright at 3:30 in the morning.
I slip on Darry's pair of work boots by the door and I head outside into the rain. I'm still in my pajamas and the rain soaks through to my skin quickly. I run as fast as I can in the huge boots that are practically falling off of my feet.
"Johnny!" I call when I reach the lot. It is dark and I can barely see past the rain.
A car beeps its horn loudly and I jump out of the way to avoid being hit. I guess I should get out of the road.
"Lucy!" Johnny walks towards me from the darkness.
I throw my arms around his neck. He is taken aback by this gesture.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
"It's raining," I say when I pull away from him, "and I didn't want you to spend the night out here."
He laughs and his eyebrows disappear behind his bangs.
"Look at you," I say, trying to preserve a sliver of my dignity, "You're soaked."
"So are you," He adds.
I sigh. I must look like shit. I can't even bear to think about it.
"Let's just go home," I finally say.
He nods.
After giving Johnny a blanket and a set of Soda's dry clothes, I climb back into bed and am lulled to sleep by the feeling of Pony's warm back pressed against mine.
"Rise and shine, Luce," Darry shakes me awake.
"It's Saturday," I moan.
"Community service, Lucy," he says.
I roll over and look up at him, "Oh, yeah."
A few months ago, after the one year anniversary of Dallas death, Two-bit decided to give me a lesson in lifting a six-pack of Bud from the convenient store.
Just for reference, I am not a sneaky person and it was no different on that day. The cops cuffed me so fast my head was spinning. When they took me away, all I could do was cry and curse at Two-bit under my breath.
"I'm sorry, Darry," I hung my head when he came to pick me up, looking exceptionally stern.
He grounded me until the end of time on top of the community service would later give me. Saturday after Saturday since then has been spent talking to the elderly or cleaning up the sides of roads. Today it is an oh-so-wonderful trip to the soup kitchen. Well, at least it is my last day.
"Morning, Luce," Johnny appears in the kitchen while I am searching for something decent to eat.
My stomach does one of those flip-flop things. Why do I only have the extreme urge to press my lips to his when I can't?
"Hey," I smile at him. He is so close to me that I can feel his breath against my cheek when he sighs.
"Are you ready to go?" Darry asks, suddenly.
I pull away quickly and pray that he doesn't notice how Johnny and I are both blushing furiously.
"Yeah," I say. I leave the house without eating breakfast.
Darry drives me to the community center downtown and leaves me to board the bus with the half-dozen other juvenile delinquents. I wave at him, internally begging him to come back and rescue me from the hell I will soon enter.
Here we go again! I'm quite proud of this beginning I must say. I'm sorry for anyone who is offended by me manipulating the Curtis parents in a more negative way. I should have athe nextchapter posted by nextSunday, if not earlier.Please review and tell me what you think!
-Avenging Angel