Is that why they call me a sullen girl, a sullen girl?

They don't know I used to sail the deep and tranquil sea

But he washed me 'shore, and he took my pearl

And left an empty shell of me

— Sullen Girl, Fiona Apple

August 6th, 1965

"You gotta be home by... four, right?"

"Yeah," I said, raising the joint to my lips, blowing out a puff of smoke, and lying back down on the carpet. The room reeked sweet, even though we'd cracked open a window, and it was so swelteringly hot that I didn't want to move one single limb— or maybe that was just the kush. We had Elvis blaring so loud, half the neighborhood probably vibrated from her tinny radio. "Social worker's comin' to visit, and Darry's fixin' to flip shit if the place ain't spotless when she shows."

"So—" Sylvia's rouged lips curled into a smirk as she took a drag of her own joint, sprawled out on her bed— "shouldn't you be cleanin' it up with them?"

"Sure," I said with a shrug, "but I'm always cleanin' it up by myself. They can deal." If I hadn't been as high as a kite, I could've kept that whine going for a good long while— about how all three of those boys seemed to think that their live-in maid would wash their clothes, cook them eggs and bacon for breakfast, and do it all with a smile on her face— but I was content to close my eyes and forget about my problems for now. Especially forget about how Darry would really flip shit if he figured out just what I was doing over at Sylvia's.

"You could help me clean," Sylvia said, gesturing towards the piles of strewn clothes and makeup. "My mom barged up here at two in the goddamn morning, cussin' up a storm, 'cause apparently this place ain't good enough for her new man. Sorry— my new stepdaddy. You're so lucky you don't have to live with a skank like that."

"I mean, mine's dead." I fingered the necklace Mom had left me, soothed by the cool gold under my fingers, and forced a blank stare onto my face. "But she got on my nerves a lot, too, what the hell. You just thought she was great 'cause she baked you cookies and listened to how awful all your boyfriends were."

"God, hon, I'm sorry." Sylvia clambered off the bed and threw her arms around me; I about gagged on the smell of grass and cheap body spray mixed together, but I didn't have the heart to push her away. "Me an' my huge fuckin' mouth."

"I'm not that fragile." I patted her a few times on the back, and fortunately, she let go. "Not gonna burst into tears whenever someone forgets that I'm Little Orphan Annie now."

"Well, I still miss your mom, annoying or not," Sylvia said. "She told me I wasn't dyin' when I first got my monthlies and everything. Remember how she used to call us her twins?"

Nobody could ever mistake us for sisters, much less twins; the two of us looked nothing alike. Sylvia had blonde hair that she refused to cut (well, I'd bleached it blonde in her kitchen sink, but still blonde), while mine was a mess of loose, awkwardly-cropped brown curls. She was long-winter-indoors pale where I was tan, and her angular face was a sharp contrast to my rounder one; the only thing we had in common was dark brown eyes. But we'd been inseparable since the second grade, and Mom's nickname had stuck. "Remember she could even make Dallas sit down and shut up? I miss that." I took another, longer drag on the roach and swallowed a cough. "Speak of the devil. I thought you said he was comin' over."

Sylvia scowled so hard you'd think I'd asked her to vacuum something, and raised her hand to show me her ringless fingers. "We're done. And this time, I fuckin' mean it."

"Threw that class ring at him again?"

"Hit that fucker right smack in the middle of his forehead. I should've keyed his car up good too, while I was at it."

"That fucker," I echoed. "The hell did he do now?" Rolling another joint held my attention more than the details, honestly, because I'd seen this play out the same way for the past year. Dallas marked his territory on people like a dog pissing on a fire hydrant, and Sylvia wasn't any exception; they'd be back together by next weekend, if he didn't show up at her door with a wilted bouquet and a rubber before then. There was something magnetic about him, something that made her always want to see what shit he'd pull next. Most of the time, he just made me nauseous.

"You know Angela Shepard, right?"

"I know of her." I couldn't help my grimace— she sure had some reputation for a girl who'd just finished the eighth grade. Apparently she tore through older men, ran her own side hustle dealing prescription benzos, and carried a blade around— even Tim and Curly couldn't control her all that well. "And this is goin' exactly where I think it is, huh."

"She's been sniffin' after him like a bitch in heat, yeah." If she wasn't careful, she was going to burn a hole straight through her skirt. "Tim broke his nose in— wish I could've been there to watch."

"Don't blame you." I dropped some ashes on the carpet and desperately searched for a way to change the subject. "Shit, I need new clothes."

"You don't say." Sylvia gave me a painfully condescending look. "Your brothers don't let you outta the house unless they approve, huh?"

I surveyed my outfit— dowdy skirt, scuffed oxfords, a blouse I'd had back in seventh grade— and gave her a death glare in return. "You see how sexy you can dress with three of them around. Your only one's too strung out on pole half the time to tell if you're walkin' out the door naked." Then I shook my head. "No, dammit, I didn't mean it that way. If I show up at home reekin' of pot, Darry's gonna skin me like a bobcat."

(Mom would've let me dress how I pleased. But I didn't really want to think about that.)

"Lemme see what I can find." Sylvia got up to rifle through a heap of skirts next to the vanity, and pulling out one that was more scrap than fabric. "Go get my perfume— the good kind— and spray yourself all over. It'll mask the scent. I think."

Needless to say, I was late for the social worker.

"Jasmine! I was wondering if I'd get a chance to see you this afternoon."

The social worker's sugary-sweet smile wasn't matched by Darry, who glared at me like I was the driver that ran over his first puppy. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead, trying to look as though I hadn't sprinted halfway across the neighborhood to burst into our den, but my short, rapid breaths gave me away. "I'm sorry, ma'am," I said with a faint smile of my own. Miss Edwards wanted to see an innocent schoolgirl, and I knew how to play the part. "I was just so busy volunteerin' at the animal shelter, I clean lost track of time."

"Animal shelter?" Soda mouthed behind her back; I shrugged. Ponyboy just shot me a grin.

"Well, if that ain't the sweetest thing, hon," she gushed, brushing her massive amount of teased hair away from her face. "I could just eat you up. Darrel, would you mind if I had a little chat with Jasmine alone? I'll be done in a tick."

"Of course not, Miss Edwards," Darry said hesitantly, and she wasted no time taking me by the arm and leading me into my room— and shutting the door behind us. Never a good sign.

"There's no need to be nervous, dear— have a seat," she said, sitting down on my desk chair; reluctantly, I perched myself on the edge of my bed. I didn't like this woman in my room, even though it was clean— at Darry's insistence— and she'd already inspected every square inch of the house. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions. How are you doing?"

"Fine, ma'am," I said, making sure to add the 'ma'am.' She didn't have me fooled. Behind the motherly demeanor, this woman had the power to do anything she wanted with me.

"That's just great." Yet another megawatt smile. "Goodness knows it must be hard growin' up with all these brothers, though. I had four myself, but at least there were a couple sisters in the mix."

"It's not so bad, ma'am." I twisted my bedspread around my finger, idly wondering if she was judging how worn it looked.

"Well, of course not, but I'm sure there's been some challenges all the same." She put a hand on my shoulder, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to slap it away. "You're growin' into a young lady, without your mother around— but I'm sure Darrel is doin' what he can, under the circumstances. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

Sure she didn't. "You're a real sweet girl, Jasmine," she continued before I could say a word, giving me a few pats. "Good grades in school— which I certainly hope you'll continue to earn in your sophomore year— and you haven't been gettin' into any trouble. I just want you to be in the best situation possible. That's my job."

"Ain't this the best situation already?" I asked as sweetly as I could, my palms clammy. "I mean. All of us together."

"If that's what you really want, dear." And on that ominous note, she got up from her chair and motioned me up, too. "I think we've spent long enough huddled in here!" she added with a loud, tinkly laugh. "Let's get back to the others, shall we?"

I followed her out, swallowing back some of my own bile. "Well, everything seems to be in order here, Darrel," she announced briskly as she strode into the living room again. "House is clean, the kids are fed, and you're up to date on all of the bills... Sodapop, you don't work too hard, you hear me? And mind your brother, Ponyboy and Jasmine. I'll see y'all next month."

"Yes'm," we chorused, and the second the door shut behind her, Darry dropped the phony niceness and turned straight on me.

"You hate animals."

"Maybe I wanted to give back to the community?"

"Uh-huh— dressed in a miniskirt?" he said, pointing an accusing finger at it. "Tell me where you were, and don't you dare give me that bull you fed Miss Edwards."

"At Sylvia's house," I said with a sigh— Darry was even better at ferreting out lies than Dad had been. "We kind of lost track of time. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Here we go. "You've known about this appointment for weeks— no, scratch that, you were supposed to be here before then to help clean this place up. How d'you think it looks when you stroll in half an hour late?"

"Bad."

"So why the hell weren't you here?" He dragged his hand through his hair. "I've had it with you and Ponyboy, I really have. The two of you don't ever think about anybody but yourselves."

"What did I do?" Pony demanded, at the same time as I said, "If I didn't think about anybody but myself, this place sure would've been a lot less tidy for the social worker— not that I'm askin' for a thank you or nothing."

"Darry, listen, it was an accident," Soda swooped in before he could yell back, always the peacekeeper. "Jasmine didn't mean to be late— she ran all the way here. And quit raggin' on Pony for no reason."

"There's plenty of reason to rag on him," Darry said, but dropped it— probably because I was the far more pressing target. "Jasmine, I better not catch you skippin' out on any more meetings with the social worker. We're already on thin ice without you makin' her think I can't get y'all together for an hour, you hear me?"

"Fine," I bit out with as much venom as I could squeeze into one syllable.

"Take that shitty attitude out of your voice, or you're grounded. I mean it."

"My shitty attitude?" I asked incredulously, my jaw clenched. "I said I'm sorry already. You're the one who can't ever let an accident go."

"That's it, you are grounded," he said without mercy. "All weekend. Soda, I really don't wanna hear it."

Soda's mouth snapped shut, and I admitted defeat and snapped mine shut, too. Still thought the grounding was bullshit, but I knew that if I kept pushing, I'd probably be stuck in the house until my senior prom.

"I'm sick of the mouthin' off around here," Darry declared to no one in particular. "Is a little respect just too much to ask for?"

I elected to return to my room instead of answering that.

"I know you're in there, Jas."

"Exactly, and I'm takin' a bath, so buzz off." I sank deeper into the water, letting my hair fan out behind me in a dark wave, but of course Soda was chronically incapable of taking a hint.

"Darry's just stressed," he still told me through the bathroom door. "He doesn't mean to snap so bad. It's been real hard for him since Mom an' Dad died."

Right. That was always the excuse. 'Darry's just stressed since Mom and Dad died,' like the rest of us were peachy-keen since the accident. Goddamn, was he doing a great Mussolini impression lately— our parents' deaths gave him one hell of an opportunity to get his control freak on. Everyone had to obey his slightest command, or else listen to him go off about how lucky we were that he'd taken us in at all— that was, except for Soda. Soda could drop out of school after making straight F's, get tickets for speeding, even come home drunk, and Darry never so much as looked at him cross-eyed.

Not that I blamed Soda, though. It was impossible for anyone to stay mad at him. Even me.

"Social worker was runnin' her mouth off," he continued as I swirled my hand around in the suds. "He's worried. Thinks the state might want you in a girls' home."

"Sometimes that sounds better than this prison camp."

"Awh, c'mon, Jas." His voice took on a teasing note. "You'd hate it there. Who'd put food coloring in your eggs?"

"Exactly," I said, unable to stop my lips from twitching. "Nice, normal breakfasts. What's not to like?"

"Not havin' your beloved brothers— can I come in already? I'm hollerin' through solid wood."

I pulled the shower curtain all the way across and hugged my knees to my chest. "Fine."

He creaked the door open and possibly sat down on the toilet, though I couldn't tell. "Darry loves you, you know. A lot. You an' Pony both— that's why he's so hard on you."

"Yeah, well, guess I love him too," I grudgingly admitted. "Since when did you become family peacemaker?"

"Since forever, that's when. Y'all are such hotheads, gotta have someone around to crack a few jokes and kill the tension." His shadow leaned forward. The water was starting to get cold, with an oily film forming on top, but I still didn't feel like getting out. "Listen, Jas, I know you're mad at him right now, but you can't screw around with the social worker, okay? Darry means it when he says the state ain't thrilled 'bout him havin' custody 'cause he's so young— 'specially of a girl. So unless you wanna go live in a reform school, keep it zipped when she's here."

"She was givin' me the third degree today— I get it," I told the faucet, grimacing. "Don't hand that woman any more ammo than she already has."

"Darry's just tryna do what's best for us," he said, like it was a lesson learned by heart. "Keep the family together. So cut him some slack, will you?"

"Next you're gonna tell me I deserve to be grounded, too."

"Hey, it was your yap that got you there. I tried to help you out, but no, you just had to be a smart mouth."

"Ugh." I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say. You could drag a dead body home and Darry wouldn't even yell, much less ground you."

"Boy, would that be weird if he did." I could practically hear him shudder. "I remember when Darry used to be cool— he'd slip me an' Dally an' Two-Bit beer on the weekends and distract Dad when I came in past curfew. I'm too old for his parenting act."

"What, and I'm not?" I scoffed. "You're only a year older than me."

"A year and four months, and don't you forget that, little sis."

I peeled back the curtain far enough to lob a sponge at him— and sadly, missed. "Got any more words of wisdom for me?"

"If you act real sweet and do some dishes for Darry, the Grinch might just spring you Sunday."

"Please, like he lets us go anywhere on a school night." I half-heartedly started scrubbing at a rough patch of skin on my elbow. "Don't you have somethin' better to do on Friday than perv on your sister in the tub?"

He threw a hand towel at me, which harmlessly smacked against the curtain and fell to the bath mat. "You're right. I'll be enjoyin' my night out with Sandy at the Dingo, and you can have fun goin' to bed early with your teddy bear."

I was out of things to throw that wouldn't cause physical damage. "Get lost, Sodapop."

Once he'd finally left, I drained the tub and wrapped a towel around myself, squeezing my hair dry. Then I smiled as I dug through the laundry hamper for the skirt I'd pulled off.

Soda wasn't the only one headed out tonight.

11/18/18: I feel like I should probably warn people just starting this story that it gets... a lot darker around chapter 6, and deals heavily with rape and child sexual abuse. Buckle up.