The sunset filled the entire sky with the deep color of rubies, setting the clouds ablaze. She sat in the corner of the diner on a barstool, her face shiny with sweat after cleaning the place from top to bottom. The Dingo was never crowded on Mondays, even in the summer, but today was exceptionally bleak, giving her enough time to reinvent the place. When she arrived a few days prior, it was filthy; the walls were splattered with God-only-knows-what, dust bunnies huddled in the corners and cracks in the floor, and crumbs were scattered across the tables. Her father told her that The Dingo was a hotspot amongst greasers - she didn't quite know what that meant, but it seemed to make some sense.
She wiped her clammy hands on the pockets of her grease-stained apron and lit up a damp cigarette. She was trying to quit. Her mother had always warned her that it was an awful habit, but she simply couldn't; instead, she just did it when no one was looking to avoid judgment. Taking a drag, the familiar feeling filled her lungs and relief immediately flowed through her body from her chest to her head to her feet. Her brain was pounding.
"Charlotte!" the unfamiliar voice called from the kitchen.
Startled, she pressed the lit cigarette against her grey, button-up blouse, burning a hole in the fabric, and shoved the butt into the pocket on her apron. Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the building and she adjusted herself anxiously as they approached her. Shuffling across the room, she tripped over the rug and landed flat on her stomach.
A loud 'Oof' escaped her lips and her face reddened. Embarrassed, she quickly leapt onto her feet and straightened herself out.
A bellowing laughter came from the door. Her father was leaning against the frame with a toothy grin plastered on his face, "No wonder they call you Bambi," he chuckled. His scruffy face and tired eyes made him look much older than he was. In truth, her father was only thirty-three years old. He was still in high school when her mom got pregnant and they both dropped out to raise her. Her chest ached with guilt when she wondered where her parents would be if it wasn't for her.
The redness in her cheeks deepened and she flashed a shy smile at the man. She tucked a strand of her mud-colored hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. It took every ounce of willpower in to her restrain from fidgeting with the hem of her skirt in discomfort. She never really knew how to carry herself around adults. It seemed they were always out to get her, to tell her she was acting up, just as her mother always did.
He continued, "I just came to tell you that we're closing shop for the night. Hoods usually pile in after sun down and I don't want you havin' too much fun quite yet," he laughed and reached over to muss her hair. "You'll be a grease before ya know it," he grimaced and gestured to her mini skirt, "Just gotta put ya in some blue jeans." She chuckled softly at her dad's remark, averted her gaze to the ground and toyed with the corner of the dust-covered rug. She'd forgotten to vacuum.
"Alright, I'll lock up." Her voice was thick and cool, like the first mouthful of ice cream after a hot summer's day.
The man turned on his heel and exited the room. Shortly after he did so, the door chimed open and a loud, bustling group of young men piled in and plopped down at the table by the window. The sun had completely gone down at this point and she swore she heard the crickets chirping outside over the ruckus they were causing.
"I got a five finger discount on this," a redhead laughed as he thumbed through what looked like a Playboy magazine from where she was standing. "Take a look at this broad," he pointed to the paper. Some of the boys gaped, some cackled, and some looked distraught. Observing the disturbing scene before her, she leaned up against the counter and cleared her throat. At once, they all turned to face her. She was a looker, with long brown hair, and eyes the color of the afternoon sky.
"You lost, doll?" a tall, silver-haired boy spoke up. A smirk grew on his face like a nourished plant at the break of dawn when the first rays of sunlight peak over the horizon.
"What's it to ya, doll?" she mocked. An equally passive/aggressive smirk manifested on her face. Losing all interest in his porno magazine, the redhead adverted his attention to the scene unfolding before him. He howled with laughter at her sarcasm. The four other boys shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.
"I just couldn't help but notice that you look lost. Maybe you walked across the tracks, couldn't find your way in the dark. Sue me for trying t'help."
"C'mon Dal. Why'd ya gotta do this every time we go out?" a soft-spoken boy augmented. His gaze never left the table when he spoke. The girl furrowed her brows both in anger and confusion and pushed herself off the counter.
"Listen here, hood," she started, pointing a shaky finger in his face. "If it means that much to you, my old man owns this dump and I was shipped out here to live with him. I-I'm not lost or whatever so why don't you just shut your trap."
"Well, isn't that sad," the young man, who she presumed was named Dally, pestered on. He stood and faced her, puffing his chest out in an effective attempt to look tough. At an unfortunate height of five-foot-two, she was swallowed by his figure.
"Dally knock it off, she's shakin'," demanded a handsome young man with eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee. She wouldn't have been surprised if he had a really beautiful, loyal girlfriend. Back home, guys looked like him, sure, but they were not blessed with his charming Cheshire-cat grin. She would've killed to have a man like him on her arm.
"Yeah Dal, c'mon, hang loose. Let's go somewhere else." The young boy with seafoam colored eyes and slicked back hair fiddled with the napkin on the table in discomfort. She decided he was probably the nicest out of all of them.
Despite both efforts to get him to cool it, Dally was persistent. His menacing figure approached her, a scowl masked out his previously amusing expression. Once he had her up against the wall in a newly clean corner he busted out laughing. The look on her face read frightened, then angry, then confused.
"As if I'd hurt Bernie's kid. He'd have my head."
"It's not like you ain't always lookin' for a fight anyway Dal," the redhead joked, earning a chuckle from the girl in the corner and loud laughs from the rest of his gang. Bambi's face softened as soon as she realized she was in no immediate danger.
"What's all the ruckus…" Bernie mumbled as he groggily walked into the room. This was always the downside of living above The Dingo; he'd been forced to get up in the dead of the night to investigate noisy teenagers on multiple occasions. A few times he'd even had to break up a fight. His eyes widened as they landed upon the Curtis gang seated in the front of the restaurant.
"What're you kids doin' here this late? Checkin' out my daughter or somethin'?" His eyes fell on the Playboy magazine. "Better not have shown her none o' that."
"We were just ordering some Cokes," Dally replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.
The older man sighed, "We're closed for the night so flake off. C'mon, get outta here." He shooed the gang with his handkerchief.
"C'mon Bernie, don't be lame," the redhead whined. "We were just messin' 'round."
"Don't make me repeat myself," he said with the utmost fire in his voice. "You can come back in tomorrow but if I see any of you loitering around my daughter you're gonna hear it."
Dally sighed and flung the door open, "What an ass." The other boys trailed behind him, a parade of echoing sighs one after the other.
Bernie pointed at his daughter who stared at the door in amusement. "Don't you dare think 'bout gettin' involved with kids like that. They're nothin' but trouble. Your old lady'd have a frenzy." He planted a small kiss on her forehead. "I'm goin' up to bed in a few, you should probably crash too."
"Yeah. Well, my old lady could kiss it."
"Hey! You know that's screwed up," he carelessly scolded and chuckled dryly.
"Yeah, yeah," she smiled and playfully rolled her eyes. Having him actually looking out for her warmed her heart. When things got rough back home with her mother, she'd send him letters. On her birthday, he'd send her gifts. That was the extent of their father/daughter relationship until now. "Night."
"G'night." He pat her head and headed upstairs for the night.
Although Bambi wasn't sure of her impression of the boys, she felt the room was unsettlingly quiet without them there. She wished they would've properly introduced themselves. Deciding she should crash for the night, Bambi made her way in the back of the diner and up the stairs to the small room at the end of the hallway. Her father had set it up for her. The walls were a dusty rose color and a cream colored blanket sat unmade on the frameless bed centered in the room in front of the only window. A dresser stood on each side.
She flung herself on her bed and pulled out her diary. Nobody had known she had it. The cover was navy blue and the pages were bordered with little stars and moons; she'd lifted it from a convenience store when she was nine or ten. The pages were the holders of all her secrets. She wrote about her mother and all the rich men she brought home. She wrote about school and her friends back home. And tonight, she wrote about her father, cleaning The Dingo, and meeting the mischievous group of boys. If anyone found it, she'd never show her face again.
"Walk a bit faster Pone," Dally demanded and hustled along the dark sidewalk. It was a delightful evening, the sky was sprinkled with stars.
No answer came from Ponyboy, not even a glance. He was absentmindedly kicking a rock along the sidewalk.
"Jesus, it's like you're askin' for Darry to have your head."
Sodapop came up behind him and slung his arm around his shoulder, "It's alright Pony, he's just bummed he got told off by that fox."
Two-Bit snorted, "Candyass."
"Hey, shut it, will you?" Dally fired, "I ain't bummed about nothin'. And I sure as hell ain't a candyass."
The gang arrived at the Curtis house moments later. Darry was seated on the front porch, a scowl on his face. Ponyboy's heart leapt. He'd already had enough for the day; he was too tired to argue.
"Where the hell have you been?" the older man grimaced. "I coulda been sleepin' Pony! When're you gonna start using your head?"
Ponyboy kept his eyes locked on a stain on his shoes. He twiddled his thumbs and dug a hole in the lawn with his toes. He knew that answering would only cause more trouble.
Sodapop came up from behind him along with the rest of the gang. He placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it Darry, he was out at The Dingo with us."
Darry muttered a few curses under his breath and went back into the house making sure he slammed the door behind. It was always Soda who cooled his temper.
"Jonnycake you gon' stay the night?" Soda asked.
The boy with jet black hair shook his head, "I gotta make an appearance at home before my parents start rentin' my room out to bums."
"I'll walk him. Lord knows this kid is scared of what lurks in the dark. Don't wanna find him in an alley tomorrow morning delusional and pissin' his pants," Two-Bit cackled and pat Johnny on the head. He slung an arm around the small boy and and they left. The others could faintly hear Two-Bit laughing at his own jokes as they walked away.
"I actually think I'll crash here if that's alright with the big guy," Dally said and gestured towards the house. "Got nowhere better to be anyways." He took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and putting it out under his feet.
"Hell, I'll never hear the end of it from Darry, for Christ's sake," Pony complained as the remaining three boys hustled into the Curtis house. Ponyboy made a beeline for the bedroom and softly closed the door shut behind him. He didn't like to be bothered at night, especially when he was reading. Which, knowing him, he probably was.
"So what'd you think of her, anyway?" Soda asked Dally as he plopped onto the sofa, a cloud of dust arising from the fabric, and cracked open a beer.
"Not my type," Dally stated matter-of-factly. He took the open seat next to Soda. "Or should I say - 'what's it to ya?'" A dry laugh escaped his lips as he thought of her trembling figure and wide eyes spitting curses in his face like a sailor. She was like a drunk, aggressive deer caught in headlights.
"I think I wanna see her again," Soda admitted. The gold-haired boy pointlessly flipped through stations on the radio beside the couch; there was never anything good on at this hour. After cringing at a few fuzzy stations he settled on shutting it off. Soda was typical to fall in love too quickly. He'd still been caught up on Sandy since she left. He was taking their time apart pretty hard. Who could blame him? She a natural beauty. "She's a gone girl. Great eyes."
"Great ass," Dally snorted. Sodapop shot him a disapproving look and chugged the rest of his beer. "Hey, speakin' of chicks, what's up with Pony and that blonde broad he's always hangin' 'round. What's her name? Mary?"
Soda laughed and got up off the couch. "Not sure. He doesn't talk 'bout stuff like that much. For Christ's sake that kid never stops shruggin'."
Dally raised his eyebrows.
"Anyways, I've got the morning shift at the DX. Night Dal." He placed the empty beer can on the wooden side-table and flicked off the lamp.
Dally sprawled out on the couch, his right arm dangled off the side, and shut his eyes. He should've been in Sylvia's bed right then but she'd been giving him a really hard time. Dally wasn't sure if he even loved her. Sometimes he thought he just used her for sex. He had to admit, she was pretty fine arm candy, but when he had to listen to her yap about shoes and other nonsense, he wanted to hang himself.
Right now, though, he longed for the tenderness of her smooth, hot skin under his chapped lips. He wanted to run his hands along her curves. He wanted to make her smile. Something about the Curtis' couch made Dally lonely. Maybe it's because deep down, he knew he wasn't missed or wanted anywhere else. He turned onto his side and faced the dark abyss that, during the day, was flooded with friends and laughter.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to close his eyes once more.
In his mind was a girl with long, brown hair that reminded him of a mudslide and a pair of electric blue eyes. She had a frightening façade painted on her face, but an exhausted look in her eyes. She had her hand on her hip and her pointer finger in his face.
"Listen hood." He could almost hear her mature, jagged voice. It sounded just like a crackling fire in the middle of autumn.
God, she ticked him off. If he ever had to see her again, he'd probably lose his cool. Dallas Winston hated girls like her. The wannabe kind, the stuck-up kind. She always had her nose in the air and her hands on her hips like a know-it-all. She tried acting tuff but Dally saw right through it. He saw her weak spots. God, he wanted to show her where that act could lead her.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. He wished his mind wouldn't wander like that. It always ended up in the most undesirable places. He blocked out the images of her from tiptoeing back into his brain by forcing himself to count sheep until he fell asleep.
Hello! Thank you to everyone who made it through the first chapter! I know there isn't much substance yet, but I'm just trying to set up the plot and ease Bambi into the story. I hope I did okay! Don't forget to follow, favorite, and review! I take criticism as well as compliments so don't be afraid to (politely) tell me I suck. Haha. See you all in the next chapter!