Character Sketch – Johnny

By: Emily Wright

"Johnny?" a familiar voice calls from oblivion. "You awake?"

My dark eyes reluctantly open, sleep is caked around them. Ponyboy's face escapes my bleary view as I grudgingly tug my incredibly skinny body from the cool ground. Sharp pains hit my back; my hand automatically reaches toward them, touching the skeleton that I am. I rub my sore body after standing up, and glance at Ponyboy. His face looks bright as usual, unlike my usual scared demeanour, always looking like with no hope in the world.

"Next time, let's not take a nap on the ground," I continue to rub my back as I survey my surroundings. "My feels like I've been jumped by a bunch 'o Soc's,"

Ponyboy gives a curt nod and looks around with me. Sleeping in a park was no big deal if you didn't sleep on a ground that never seemed to grow warm, but unfortunately we had forgotten about that. "I should really get goin'," Ponyboy's face has adopted a sudden fearful look. "Darry'll kill me if I don't get home soon. You goin' back too?"

I shake my head with sudden defiance, my tangled greasy black hair flips in the wind. "Not now. My parents don't care much whether or not I'm around." Ponyboy understands immediately, his eyes accidentally trace over the multiple bruises on my pale arms that poke out of a stained gray t-shirt.

"I'll be goin' then," Ponyboy heads off towards his home, where he'll meet his two brothers, people who love him and care for him - so much the opposite of my household which is just an opening to hell.

I glance around. The park's trees are in full bloom and sway happily in the peaceful breeze blowing lazily across the area. They had no cares or worries, unlike me, with the horror of a family waiting at my so-called 'home'. And with today being such a special day, I knew I would have to go home sometime. I angrily aim a kick at a small rock, feeling the soft thud against my hole-filled sneakers made me wince, but feel a little better. The rock lands in the stone fountain, a splash echoes across and ripples begin to spread quickly in the water. I walk over to the fountain and lean in. A pale, unhappy boy with long hair, black as midnight looks up at me from the surface, in other words - me.

Unable to look any longer, I turn around and start to head back, before realizing I'd forgotten my jacket in the middle of everything. I do a double-take and snatch it from where I'd been just five minutes before, and throw the only nice piece of clothing I have left; everything else I own seems to be either torn or stained, whether from another rumble or a beating from my parents. The parents that I was heading for.

Dirt is lazily kicked up as I walk home, since I'm not in a hurry to meet what's waiting for me. The sun beats down on the city, warming it in a summer glow. People walk down the street, going the opposite way of me, after all, where I'm going is Greaser territory and no person in their right mind wants to be caught there.

My heart rate picks up as I begin to take in all too familiar sights: the broken beer bottles, burnt-out cigarettes, and used matches litter the dirty ground, making it look more like a garbage dump than someone's front yard. Speaking of garbage, the place stinks too, mainly from rotting trash in the back; I wrinkled my nose in disgust as the scent hit my unfortunate nostrils.

I start to shake slightly, but gulp down my fears and stand strong; after all, this shouldn't be worse than when I was jumped by them Soc's... I quickly shake my head, trying to make that terrible night disappear from my mind. As scared as I was now, I would have face my parents anyway.

I take a deep breath, noting that there wasn't any shouting from the inside of the house; I take it as a good sign. I might get lucky; they might be too drunk to talk much right now. I swallow nervously and open the door to my home.

The house is in shambles as usual, dirty plates lay all over the floor as well as beer bottles, some half-empty. My blood pounds in my ears, every step I take seems to be as loud as anvils crashing onto glass. "Mom, dad?" I call quietly; half-hoping they can't hear me. 'Please be asleep, please be asleep, please be asleep...' A snort comes from the living room. 'No...' Now a groan as I hear a body being pulled from the couch. 'No, oh no, no, no...'

"Johnny?" dad sounds drunk.

'God help me.'

"Izzat' you?" Definitely drunk.

Dad steps out into the hallway. A large beer gut flops out of his stained white t-shirt, the stench of booze is overwhelming as he ambles towards me and I almost gag from it. Dad leers over my unusually still self, making me feel even smaller than I already am. "Where the hell were you?" he hisses through his yellow teeth as I cower beneath him. "Y'ur late fur y'ur own birthday!" he hollers at me, aiming a slap at my blood-drained face.

'Don't show any fear.'

"I ain't some peaceful old-timer!" Another slap, this time harder.

'It hurts...'

"You think I have all th' time in' th' world, son?" he strikes my right arm, finally succeeding in making me yell out in pain. "Shut up!" Dad grabs me by the collar and glares at me with his blood-shot, rancid breath comes out of his mouth and I don't dare breathe, my heart is pounding...

'Oh God, I'm scared...'

"Y'all be running of wit' y'ur lil' friends I'll bet, ain't no time for dad, eh?" he shakes me furiously, making me wish I could whip out my switchblade on him so he would just leave me alone. "If y'ur late nex' time-" I'm slammed against the wall, dad whips out a blade. "I'll kill yeh!" The cut is quick but painful, my left cheek begins to sting angrily, like a bee had laid its stinger right there instead. Dad throws me to the floor and stumbles back towards the living room. "Don' be late next year, y'ur damn lucky y'ur ma isn' up righ' now,"

After hearing him drop his drunken self onto the couch again, I bolt out the door. I run 'til I'm out of breath, 'til my sides are heaving and I can't take it anymore. I sit myself down, curl up against the wall and cry. Sobbing wracks my body, as I remember the song Ponyboy and I had sung so much earlier in the day. Such a sweet happy song...

'Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday Johnny!

Happy birthday to you!'

"Happy 16th birthday, Johnny," I whisper to myself.