Trying to understand his sensitive brother, Darrel Curtis heads to the bookstore in an attempt to read Gone with the Wind
Brightly lit, the bookshop stood out from the usually dark street. Darry stepped into it hesitantly, still dirty from work, feeling out of place. Abandoned, with a single girl sitting out the counter, not noticing the nearly silent jingle of bells as he stepped through the thin doorway, the bookshop still seemed cozy and he navigated the thin shelves, searching.
As if out of nowhere, the girl popped up. "Hello," she smiled, her voice laced with the peppy friendliness of anyone paid to serve others. "Can I help you find something, sir?"
"Uh…" awkwardly, he tried to think of the author. "Gone with the Wind? You heard of it?"
"Of course!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to another shelf. "Which version? Would you like a hardback copy, a soft copy, a used copy—"
"Used, please." He requested, embarrassed.
Nodding professionally, she stood on a small ladder and pulled it off. She was tall, but the shelves reached the ceiling. Pulling it out, she nodded. "Here you go sir," she handed it to him and smiled. "Anything else?"
Accidentally bumping into the stand-alone shelf next to him, he took it, thanking her, flustered. "Can I… buy this?" he asked hesitantly.
The girl exuded confidence. "Of course sir! Right over here to the counter." Leading the way, she grinned at him.
Searching in his pockets for the money, he frowned. He could've sworn he had enough. "I'm sorry—I'll put it back—I don't think I have enough."
"You don't need it!" she chirped brightly.
"What?" he stared at her, wondering if she had miscounted and thought he had it. "No, I'm sorry ma'am—"
"Do you want to sit here for a little and read the first chapter? If you give me a dime, you can sit right here next to me and read for a bit. And if you have a dime tomorrow, you can come over again and read more. Lots of people do it. As long as you're real careful and don't tear the pages, it's sure fine. That's why we got the chairs here. Lemme just write down your name."
"Are you—sure it's alright?" he wondered.
"Sure! What's your name, sir?"
"Darrel Curtis."
"Got a dime?"
He dug in his pockets for the small coin, and handed it to her. "How long can I stay?"
"What time is it? Got anyplace to be?"
He was bewildered by her cheer and by the concept of a book store that doubled as a library.
"Not for 'bout an hour or two…" he smiled back at her, weakly. "What time does the store close?"
"Since it's a Saturday, not till nine. It's only six-thirty now. Stay until close, if you like." Gesturing towards the soft, moth-eaten arm chair, she handed him the book back. "I read the books too," she confided, her eyes sparkling. "My favorite book is There and Back Again. Have you heard of it? I've read it probably three times."
"Sounds like a real good book," he promised sincerely, sitting down. She sat back at the counter and leaned over another novel. "Are you readin' it now?"
"Naw, this is called A Tale of Two Cities. It's by Charles Dickens. I'm almost done though. I want to read one called Nausea."
"I always liked Anne of Green Gables," he offered sheepishly. "My mom used to read it a whole lot."
"You can read it here if you like. You can read as many books as you want for however long, for just a dime. One boy comes in here all the time. He's real quiet."
Darry paused. Was she talking about Ponyboy? "Really?" he asked casually. "I think my brother comes in here sometimes."
"Is your brother named Sodapop?" she asked, arching her brows. "I think he uses a fake name because he's embarrassed to come in here."
Inwardly, Darry was shocked. Was Ponyboy using Soda's name, or was Soda really coming into the shop? "I got a brother named Sodapop," he acknowledged, the book lodged open by his thumb. "Another brother named Ponyboy."
"Why's your name normal?" she teased. "I'd expect you to be named Chapstick or somethin', if you got two brothers with wild names."
"Named after my Pa," he answered shortly. Realizing the conversation was over, she turned back to her book quietly, licking her thumb, the only noise coming from her the turning of pages.
The book's spine was soft with age, and he began to read. "Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were…." He concentrated. Reading swiftly was a skill that belonged only to Pony- and maybe to Soda.
Time passed quickly, but his pages turned slowly. Darry only made it to page forty when the girl stood up. "Oh my, it's nine already!" she trilled, jumping off to counter. "I haven't put the books back yet!"
Reaching for a long stack of books at his right hand, she deftly began to count them and organize them, running about the small store, putting them back. He caught sight of To Kill A Mockingbird and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as she swept them in her arms. Then, looking satisfied at the tidy counter and shelves, she brought out yesterday's newspapers and went outside, wiping down the windows so that they shone clearly. Darry, uncomfortable with watching her clean while sitting there, thanked her and got ready to leave.
"Wait!" she called, running down after him. Keys in hand, he turned, raising his brow. Had he forgotten something? "Take this," she handed him the copy of Gone With The Wind, putting it in his hands.
"But I—" he tried to protest before she cut him off.
"If you're Sodapop's brother, I know you're real trustworthy." She smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. You can come back tomorrow if you like, or just bring it back when you finish it. It's okay."
A little touched by the girl's sweetness, he squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, with feeling. As she turned to finish closing up the shop, he looked at her retreating back as she opened the bright shop door. "Hey," he asked suddenly, conscious that he hadn't asked before.
Questioningly, she turned towards him, silhouetted by the bright yellow of the candles and bare lightbulbs, her short hair bouncing.
"What's your name?"
Self-consciously, she pointed at herself. "I'm Julia. Nice to meet you," her sweet smile was infectious.
Climbing into the car, he headed home, thinking of an excuse to give to Sodapop and Pony for his lateness. Unable to figure out why he didn't want the kids to know where he'd been, he finally decided on the almost-truth: he'd met a girl and lost track of time. He should've been home a while ago. Nevermind that the girl he'd met was probably closer to Soda's age than his own, he just didn't want to deal with their curious gazes when he explained he'd been reading.
Before the death of their parents, he'd often enjoyed reading. After, however, there wasn't time. He was too busy, too tired, and too sad. But after Johnny and Dally had died, Pony'd gone funny on them, and trying to understand his little brother was the least he could do. Especially with Soda being brokenhearted over Sandy, and with Two-Bit's drunkenness and Steve's dad kicking him out every other week, the last thing he needed was an inquisition. Sighing at the very thought of seeing at least three familiar faces at home, he drove slowly. The engine rumbled: he'd have to get Soda or Steve to check it out for him.
He turned onto their street and parked the car. When he walked in the house, only Pony, Soda, and Steve lay sprawled across the couch. "Where's Curly?" he asked.
"Left a coupla hours ago," Steve answered, chocolate cake spread across his mouth. "Said to thank you."
Nodding, he showered and changed. But by the time he got back, only Steve and Pony were draped on the furniture. "Where'd Sodapop head off too?" he asked, sitting down on his favorite chair – the one that had been his father's.
"In bed already. Bet he's exhausted," Steve hooted. "While we were closin' up shop tonight, coupla girls came by. All over him, man."
"Not his fault he's got a girl," Pony answered sullenly.
Aiming a kick in his direction, Steve scowled. "Smartass kid. Watch your mouth. Hey, where's Two-Bit at tonight?"
"Prob'ly got other things to do," Darry answered, sending a mock glare over. "Maybe cleanin' his house… hangin' out with his sister…"
"More likely puttin' away a six-pack or two, or hangin' out with Kathy or Marcia."
"You know that Soc girl ain't really gonna date him," Ponyboy piped up. "He's too greasy for her. Sides, he said tonight that he's goin' to bed early. Him and Tim Shepard went off and got in a fight at Buck Merrill's place. He told me so."
"Just 'cause you can't get no Soc girl to notice you ain't mean the rest of us don't," Steve grinned, showing off his crooked smile. "What about you, Dare?"
"Too busy for girls," he answered shortly, not willing to talk about his night unless he had to. It seemed like something private, a place he could go after work, to try and understand Pony. The house was always rowdy with at least two kids there at all times, but that quiet little shop had been peaceful, tranquil, with nothing but a tall, cheerful girl, reading in the corner. No chocolate cake, no Mickey Mouse, no nothing but quiet. Something he missed. "Sodapop has got the right idea though. Steve, you sleepin' here tonight?"
"It's not even ten yet, Superman, might head down to Buck's, or go hunt some action."
"I didn't ask for your plans, little buddy, I said, you sleepin' here?" he asked impatiently.
"Hey, Dare, I ain't little," protesting, Steve wiped his mouth roughly. "Prob'ly though," shamefaced, he admitted.
"Alright, you know where the blankets are. Pony, not too late now." he reprimanded the fourteen year old, laying solemnly on the couch.
"Sure thing, Darry." Pony answered slowly, watching the commercial avidly.
With that, he turned and closed his bedroom door, thinking about the book he'd begun to read. It didn't seem so strange now, Pony's love of books. The book was interesting. He wanted to go back and keep reading it. Pulling the book out of the deep pockets of his jeans, hung neatly in his closet, he crawled into bed, reading by the light of the single streetlamp outside his window.
Closing the book, he realized that it was nearly midnight. Grateful that he had finished the chapter, and even more grateful that he didn't have work until nine-thirty in the morning, else he'd be exhausted, Darry turned over and slept.
Sun streamed through his window, and as he groaned, getting up, Darry stretched out, checking his watch. It was only eight in the morning, but he felt better-rested than he had since Pony and Johnny had disappeared. Dressing quickly and walking into the living room, he was amused to see Steve sprawled out, in the same position he'd been last night, snoring away.
First thing, he checked the icebox. They had a few eggs, but he'd have to send Pony off to get some more groceries today. He slammed the pan on the stove and began to fry the eggs, knowing that neither Steve nor Soda could sleep through that, combined with the smell of breakfast. Pony probably wouldn't wake up for a while, but it was a Saturday, and Darry was willing to be lenient.
"What's for breakfast here, Superdope?" Steve wandered in the kitchen, chocolate from last night still across his face.
"Call me that again, kiddo, and there ain't gonna be no breakfast for you," Darry threatened.
Surprisingly, Ponyboy walked into the kitchen next. "Hey, Dare," he yawned. "You're still here?" he turned to Steve, feigning surprise.
Steve threw a half-hearted punch in his direction, which Pony easily blocked.
"What's up with Sodapop?" Darry asked, concerned. "You're usually the last up."
"He's real tired," Ponyboy bit his lip. "It's okay though, he doesn't have work until later."
"Not like me. Speakin' of which, I gotta go in soon, so hurry up with that grub, Darry."
"Soon as I see that rent money of yours, buddy," Darry teased, handing him a plate of fried eggs. Steve wolfed down the hot food, and grinned at Darry.
"If I thought for a second you're bein' serious, you know you'd have your rent money and my suitcase on you in less than an hour." Steve smirked, putting his dish in the sink and wandering out.
"Alright," Darry handed the spatula to Ponyboy. "See you later, Steve!" he called. "I'm gonna go check on Sodapop."
Ponyboy nodded, immersing himself in making his eggs as round and perfect as possible.
The door ajar, Darry knocked anyway. Soda turned towards him, wide-awake and looking as if he had just finished crying.
Heart aching, he sat next to his kid brother. "What's up, kiddo?" he asked softly, even though he already knew the answer.
"Nothin'." Soda lied, beginning to cry again. "Ain't nothin' wrong, Dare, just go grab some breakfast. Don't want you to be late."
Frustrated, not knowing what to say, Darry rubbed his shoulder. "If you ever wanna talk to any of us, little buddy, you know we're here, okay?" he whispered to his brother. "Me an' Pony and Steve. Even Two-Bit, if you can find him sober."
Sniffing, Sodapop forced a grin and got out of bed. "Think I'm just gonna take a shower and maybe take a walk," he decided.
"Good idea," Darry praised him. "You want some breakfast?"
"Nah… not hungry. I'll pick up some fresh milk and eggs and chocolate icing at the market though, before work."
"What do you think Pony's gonna do?"
"Homework, maybe head down to the Ribbon," he shrugged. "Pone'll be okay."
Darry nodded, and went back into the kitchen, where Pony supplied him with two slightly burnt eggs, the way he liked them. Oddly touched by what was probably Pony's automatic reaction, that meant nothing to him, Darrel gave his little brother a hug. "Thanks, Ponyboy," he said, with feeling.
Looking at him as if he were crazy, Pony nodded.
"You and Soda be on your best behavior now," he chided, checking his watch. Stuffing his face full of egg, he finished in less than a minute. "I'll be home late tonight. I'll see you later."
Walking into the cloudy, dim light, he frowned. The dawn had been bright, but storm clouds quickly began scudding in. Hopefully it wouldn't rain too much.
Taking a deep breath, Darry walked into the door of the bookshop, smiling at the girl, serenely reading at the counter. Putting a dime on the counter, he sat down and began to read.
After an hour though, he felt as though he should say something. "So, was it busy today?"
Looking up, slightly startled by his interruption of the silence, she turned and nodded happily. "Not too busy, because of the clouds, but I sold ten books today, which is pretty good for a Saturday. Sundays are usually better for sales."
"That's great," he supplied awkwardly.
Noticing his discomfort, she put her book down completely. "So, where do you work?"
"I roof houses, mostly," he answered. "It ain't much, but it's somethin'."
"Hey, it's great that you're so strong. When I'm not here, I work at a bakery. I used to be a waitress, but it was too far from my house."
"Do you walk home?" he asked, surprised.
It was her turn to look uncomfortable. "Yeah… I usually worked doubles or triples there, too, so it was real tirin'."
"Where do you live?" he asked, his innate protective instinct rising up. Since he'd become guardian, his entire nature had become more paternal.
"Only 'bout two miles from here," she looked thoughtful. "Maybe three, at the most."
"Do you have anybody to pick you up? Do you ride a bus?" sitting straighter, he looked at her.
"No…" awkwardly, she offered: "It's just me and my sister and my brother. Diane is twelve and Jimmy is fifteen. Our mom isn't around much, you know?"
Suddenly, in complete understanding, he nodded empathetically. "Yeah, it's me and my two brothers. Our parents died a while back. Gotta take care of them."
"So you understand! I'm glad- oh, not glad about your parents, but it's always nice to have someone who understands where you're coming from," she corrected herself, turning a little red.
"No, it's okay," he smiled comfortingly. "But what about your siblings?"
"Jimmy takes care of the house- there are usually a couple kids by to keep them company. And the neighbors are real nice. I pick up Diane from her friend's house after work."
"What time do you get home?" their books lay forgotten as the pair bonded.
"Well, I run real fast, so usually before eleven. It's only real bad on Friday and Saturday nights, because then Socs are ridin' about the neighborhoods. Sometimes I'll see some of the Shepard gang around, and they're real friendly."
"You ever need a ride, just let me know," Darry urged her. "My brothers're both old enough to handle themselves for a few hours without me. I figure I can spare a little time away from 'em."
She shook her head. "Oh, no! I feel awful for telling you that- I shouldn't've said that! You don't gotta do anything for me, Darrel!"
"Darry," he corrected her. "I can take you home tonight if you like, get a feel for the route. In case you ever need it, you dig me?"
Flustered by his kindness, she smiled. "No, don't do that, don't worry—but thank you. It's nice having you here. Even if I don't talk to the people who read as much, it's always nice to have some company, you know?"
Nodding, he grinned and patted the book. "I like bein' here too," he promised, leaning back and continued to read, glad of the cozy atmosphere and the brightly colored book spines peeking at him like old buddies he hadn't seen since high school.