Little Johnnycakes
I awoke to the sound of the front door being closed. That meant it was either one of the gang or one of my kid brothers snuck out and just came back. Listening closely, I picked up on Soda's soft snoring. So it wasn't Sodapop and I knew Ponyboy wouldn't go out this late. He had school and track practice tomorrow. Or, glancing at the clock, today actually. So that meant it was one of the gang.
It wasn't unusual for the gang to spend the night at our place. Actually, it was unusual if someone wasn't zonked out on the couch when I got up for work in the morning. Ever since I was younger my house had been a place for everyone to stay. My mom used to say that we were all a family despite the fact that we weren't blood related. I agree with her now but I had a hard time understanding that when I was little.
Figuring I should check on them since they often came over after a fight, I reluctantly got out of bed and walked down the hallway to the living room in time to see the small form slip of his torn shoes and hear his soft footsteps as he walked across the wooden floor and the groan of my recliner as he climbed in. He shifted as he tried to cover himself in the jean jacket the gang had "acquired" for him. Two-Bit tried convincing me they had all pitched in for it. I didn't believe him for a second.
"Johnny?" I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and a small whimper emitted from his mouth.
"Hey, buddy. It's just me, Darry," I soothed the five year old. He was visibly shaking and I silently cursed to myself for scaring him like that.
I flipped on the light and felt my blood boil when I saw Johnny's face. He had a bruise on his left cheek and a black eye.
"Aw, kiddo," I sympathized. You had to talk real gentle to Johnny. Ever since his dad hurt him real bad a few months before he'd been quieter. Even quieter than usual. And he got real scared easily.
I opened my arms and he immediately wrapped his skinny arms around my neck and I lifted him as his legs hooked around my waist. I took him to my room and sat him on the bed. After turning on the lamp, I gently took off his jacket and removed his socks, tickling his toes, causing him to giggle. I smiled as his laugh quickly turned into a yawn.
"C'mon, kiddo. Let's get you in some pajamas, ok?" He nodded. I went to the bottom drawer in my dresser where I had some extra clothes for him. They were hand-me-downs, once belonging to Soda and Pony, some had even been mine. I picked up a pair of plaid blue pants and a big red t-shirt. Red was his favorite color at the moment. He constantly changed it. Who knows? Tomorrow it might be purple.
"Arms up." He obeyed, sticking his hands up and wiggling his fingers as I pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him only in pants. He was so freaking skinny! The kid's ribs were sticking out. I reminded myself to try and get him to eat more.
"Time for bed," I announced after he was changed.
"But, Darwy! I'm not even tired yet!" He whined, while trying (yet failing) to hide a yawn. I smiled, stifling a yawn of my own.
"Well, I'm tired, bud. It's late." He sighed but flopped down on my bed. I laid down next to him and covered us both with my blanket. I flipped the light off and wrapped my arms around the small body curled up next to me and closed my eyes.
"Darwy?"
I sighed and opened my eyes again. I knew he was tired so why was he still talking?
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Why does Dwaddy hurt me?" I tightened my grip on the little kid.
"I don't know, baby. Sometimes people aren't very nice," I said, trying to come up with an explanation a five year old could understand. But there really isn't an explanation as to why a father should hit his own child or why a mother should ignore him. Shortly before my folks had died Johnny moved in across the street. My mom had absolutely adored him at his age of three and a half but that had been over a year ago. Whenever she heard Mr. and Mrs. Cade yelling she would turn on the porch light and sit out there until she saw the small figure slip out of his bedroom window on the side of the house. Then, she would silently walk across the street, take his hand, and bring him back here.
"But you and Swoda and Two-Bit are nice! And Steve and Dwally aren't very nice but they are sometimes," he insisted.
"We all love you, baby. Steve and Dally are just too tuff to admit it." I had come to realize that calling Johnny names like "baby" or "honey" helped calm him down. At first, I was a little hesitant to say things like that. I don't know if it was because I thought I was too tuff or just because it made me think about how his parents treat him or what but now it's second nature. I know now that calling Johnny things like that made him feel like part of a real family.
I kissed his forehead and he gave me a tired smile.
"Love you, Darwy," he whispered, his voice laced with exhaustion.
"I love you too, kiddo."
"I wish you was my daddy," he mumbled, his eyes drooping. I rubbed his back and kissed his head again, soothing him to sleep.
"Me, too."
Well, how was that? I don't have a plot planned for this story so it's probably just going to be oneshots. I'll take requests and see what I can do! So leave comments :)