First Dallas Winston fanfiction ever. Please review and subscribe! :}
-TheGlassKnight
Life hits you once. Death hits you once. Reality hits you millions of times. So why do people fail to predict its punches?
-TW
One
Back to Tulsa, Oklahoma. I had waited four long, tiring, desperate years for this day, and it had finally, finally come. Tulsa was a special place for me. It held all my most precious and scary memories. With my head halfway out the window, tasting the fresh summer breeze and feeling the honey sun trickle on my slender limbs was enough to drive me crazy. I could smell Tulsa in the summer air, and I could almost feel God beaming down on me, whoever he is, and whispering in the wind that I was home at last. I'd loved living in Florida, but it didn't taste like Tulsa. It was like living a terrible beach party over and over again.
Despite the fact that my father had a heart attack in Tulsa, and the town held so many memories of him that my mom had a break down and move in with her mother, there are many reasons why I love Tulsa with all of my heart.
Back in Tulsa, I had the best life a girl could've wanted. I had a happy, crazy mother, and an even happier, crazier father, both of whom loved me very well. I had two little pets, one kitten and one dog, who were as sweet as sugar and as bubbly as sodapops, hence their names, Sugar and Soda. I had three of the best friends in the whole wide world, Amber Anne, who always wore sweaters with cottony wool that I loved to pinch, Beatrix the Bee, who was happy and always smelled like an odd and intriguing mix of lavender and pumpkin, and Johnny Cade, who always smelled like sunshine and denim.
My face almost turned into the sun, the way I began blushing like crazy.
You might be curious as to why I sniff my friends, and let me tell you, if I was in your place, I would be, too. But I'm not like other girls. Not only do I not give a cow poop about my appearance, and not only do I have the confidence of an ant trotting through a crowded party, but I'm blind. I was born blind. So I see the world slightly different than other people. I'll explain more later.
Anyways, back to Johnny Cade.
He was the best of my best friends. I never saw him, of course, but I pictured him being like an apple tree: small, quiet, humble, but bold enough to bear fruits and kind enough to allow others to pick them. We'd known each other so well, that when he found out I had to move, he was pretty devastated. That was part of the reason I was so excited to start life back in Tulsa. I wanted to see him, which obviously means, in my case, I wanted to inhale his whole essence and taste his lips and feel his fingers around mine…and I wanted him to see me, too, with his eyes, and (hopefully) see how mature I'd gotten...
I almost scorned myself out loud at those thoughts. What was I thinking?He was probablyseventeen years old now. Johnny probably had grown as much as I had, maybe even more. He would be taller, for one thing. And his shoulders would feel so much more broader from when he was fourteen. He would've gained confidence, whereas I haven't. He would've met other girls, ones with eyeballs that actually work…shoot, he must've forgotten me already, because he stopped writing a year ago…
My heart slumped and my body followed. I could feel the coolness of shadows draping over my face. It was a huge possibility. Johnny did grow up, and that meant other girls did too…But then why didn't my soul buy it?
I knew Johnny Cade too well, that's why.
Time flew by, maybe thirty minutes or an hour. I couldn't tell, because my mind was thinking of how I would try my best to act mature around Johnny, and how I hope my mother wasn't lying when she told me my skirt looked fine, and how I prayed to all saints on Earth that my hair didn't look too windblown. It works for models, apparently, but not for actual, normal humans.
"We're almost to Tulsa," Mom suddenly called from beside me, and we curved a sharp right. Immediately, I heard more birds singing, more dogs barking, more cars roaring by, and my face suddenly felt like the sun.
"Felt?" Mom called. "Honey, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I lied, trying to stick my head further out the window to catch some air.
"No you're—honey, pull your head out of the window! I think all that air is wearing your face out! You're pink!"
"Pink?"
"Yes," Mom said slowly. "Pink. The color of shy."
Okay, I know you're wondering how I can see colors. It's very simple. When I was little, I used to get so fed up with not being able to see colors like other kids, that one day, I broke down in tears. That same night, my clever, clever father, strummed up a new method of seeing colors. He told me this: Red is the color of strong anger and strong love, orange is the color of health, yellow is the color of joy, green is the color of growth and life, indigo is the color of thoughts, violet is the color of royalty and magic, pink is the color of shyness, black is the color of the night, white is the color of purity and calmness, and brown is the color of the soil and nature. That helped me a lot, but Dad couldn't seem to find a word to describe blue. It was sweet Johnny that told me blue is the color of my dreams and all things unexplainable. I took his word so seriously that I nearly punched the person who told me he's feeling "blue" when really, he's feeling sad and black.
For the next five minutes I tried to calm my nerves down by channeling the color white through my veins. Suddenly, when the car stopped, and powered down, the excitement bubbled out of me. As quick as ever, I popped open the van door and hopped out, hearing Soda, my dog (Sugar the cat lives with my grandmother) bark frantically at my sudden leave. I wanted to run into the new house, which I'd already been around a million times, and drop of my stuff so that I could run out and find Johnny. But apparently, God had other plans, because immediately I stepped on something shifty, like an uneven brick, and my body collapsed forwards.
"Felt!" Mom called, and I could hear her unbuckling her seatbelt. Soon she was pulling me up and turning over my arms, and I could feel her burning gaze as she examined me for bruises.
"Aw, cut it out, Mom," I said, pulling away. "I just fell. Big deal."
I think ever since Dad died, Mom was always jumpy and over protective. I know that she recovered from her breakdown, but that part of her will always remain.
She read paces out to me. I walk according to clock motions. And thanks to the great invention of a brail watch, I know that twelve o'clock is right ahead, and six o'clock is right back. So, all in all, my directions sound a bit like "fifteen paces, two o'clock" and so forth. I'm never perfect with my paces, but that's what Soda's trained to help me with.
I lugged my two suitcases twelve paces at twelve o'clock with Soda's furry tail knocking my knee with every wag. Then, as we lumbered inside the one-flat house with cold tiles and dusty wooden tables, Mom couldn't refrain herself from telling me rules.
"No parties," she said firmly, and I groaned, but she pretended not to hear me. "No sleep overs—I don't want you falling down stairs. No late-night dates, we all know how those end."
"Mo-o-om," I groaned, and Soda whimpered.
"How about we just leave it at 'no boys' period? That would save me a lot of trouble. And no study sessions, because I know exactly what sessions those are, and—"
"Mom, please," I begged, aiming to sit on the velvet sofa, and missing the center by a foot. "I won't do anything that stupid. And there are no boys I'm interested in! So please, relax."
"No boys, hm?" Mom said with an odd puzzled tone in her voice. I could feel her mischievous smile on her lips, and when I traced her lips with my fingers, I felt it too. I braced myself…and then—
"What about that cutie-patootie? Johnny Cade?"
I was pretty sure my face was 'pink' all over. Every time I tried to convince my mom that I wasn't interested in dating boys in my school, the Johnny Cade talk would come. It was almost the same all the time: "What about that cutie, Johnny Cade?" or "How about that sweetheart, Johnny Cade?" And I always ended up burning my face off in flames.
The Johnny Cade talk passed, without my victory of staying calm. I ate an early dinner and begged my mom to tour Tulsa. After much persuasion, she let me go, but only because I lied and told her that I remembered everything about the town.
I took Soda with me, and he licked me while I hastened his leash on his furry neck, because he was itching to get back the taste of Tulsa. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, still clad in the same clothes I arrived in, and placed a thumb print on Soda's forehead, which meant "lead the way outside."
Tulsa is a complicated city. It's a beautiful mix of country and city. The wind from a car and the wind from the skies is a perfect blend. Just the feel of the sunset sky's sun bleeding onto my skin was enough to remind me of Johnny Cade, who dug sunsets and sunrises more than any other guy. And just the roar of a Mustang (I recognized the sound of them right away) was enough to make my heart get squeezed by a cold, chilly fist.
You see, back when I was in Tulsa, I was middle-class. Meaning, I wasn't a Soc, the rich, West-side kids, or a Greaser, the poorer, East-side kids. Thankfully, I lived most of my life in Tulsa with innocence, meaning I didn't know that the town was filled with social classes. But that was before I'd met Johnny Cade. He was the one who told me all about the social classes. My parents didn't care what class he was, so long as he was kind to me. Johnny used to tell me stories of Greasers and all about his friend, Dallas Winston. Those stories used to make me so scared, and I constantly told Johnny not to hang out with Dallas anymore. But he would only put his hand on my shoulder and say in his quiet voice, "No, Dally's okay." And I'd never dig the fact that he still hung with him. But what scared me more was the Socs. They were constantly terrorizing Johnny, who was only nine and already had enough problems of his own.
The Mustang blew its horn at something I didn't know, and Soda barked angrily before letting me cross the street. I slid my sunshades further up my nose and began praying like crazy that the social classes didn't exist anymore.
That began the search for Johnny Cade. I began asking random people on the street if they knew Johnny Cade. But the weirdest thing happened. No one told me. Either they walked away, which was cruel, because I was blind, and never knew they left, or they grunted and patted my arm before saying they had to go.
I soon found Johnny's old house, but to my terrible dismay, it was completely deserted. The wood was unpainted and chipped, and I could smell the hollowness that resided in the walls. My heart sunk and drowned, and I felt like I could burst out in tears. But I refused to cry, because for all I knew, Johnny could've just moved and still be in Tulsa.
The air started getting colder, and I knew that my roaming period was coming to an end, but I couldn't stop searching. I asked Soda to lead me further in to streets, and he did. I walked for another fifteen minutes, my heels hurting and my ankles close to swollen. I continued walking on what seemed like an endless sidewalk, until suddenly, Soda stopped to a halt. I almost fell over him.
"Soda?" I asked him in a whisper. "What's wrong?"
He made a funny whimper, as if he was seeing something he couldn't believe. And then, without warning, he staring sprinting away, barking excitedly. I felt my heart soar. Soda was never this happy…unless Johnny was around!
Soon, Soda got out of control. He ran so fast that I was practically being dragged behind him, and I tried to tell him to stop and run slower, but he wouldn't listen. Pretty quickly, the leash snapped off of my wrist, and Soda ran out of my reach.
"Soda!" I called. But his barking faded.
I ran after him really quickly, bumping into a few people. Soon enough, I bumped into something silky and warm, and it licked me. It was Soda!
I knelt down and scratched his ears. "Soda, don't run like that ever again! What got into you? You almost gave me a heart attack. Say you're sorry."
He licked my face. Good enough.
But when I got up and started to slowly jog away to get home, I bumped into someone almost immediately.
"Oh, sorry," I mumbled.
"Hey, watch where you're goin'!" the person scolded. By the deep voice, I could tell it was a man.
At that moment, I could've pointed out that I couldn't watch where I was going, because I was blind, but instead, I repeated again, slightly aggravated, "I said I'm sorry."
There was a long pause, and I could feel the person still blocking my path. Then, something warm blew across my face. It took me a few sniffs to realize it was smoke. Whoever was in front of me blew their cigarette smoke right in my face. I began coughing. "Listen, man, I said I'm sorry," I sputtered out, and Soda began to bark angrily. I patted his silky head and began grinding my teeth out of anger.
"Well," the voice said, sounding slightly amused, "sorry's not gonna cut it. Next time, watch where you're running, and where your dumb dog runs, because if I ever find you in our territory ever again, I'll skin you and the dog alive and tack you up on some other rich Soc's house."
The way he said "Soc" with mustered disgust made me realize that he was a probably a greaser. I felt like dying. The social classes still existed. At that point, I could've been sensible and explained to him that I wasn't a Soc, and that I was blind, so I couldn't watch anything more than nothing. But being a bit of a temperamental girl, I spat back, "If you weren't standing in the middle of the road, I wouldn't have bumped into you!"
He laughed a dangerous laugh which shook my spine with fear, but I tried to stay upright. He must've thought it was funny when girls were sassy. "Y'know, I hate when Soc girls try to get all sassy with me, I mean, what're you, blind?"
And with that, he pushed me on the ground.
If you think it isn't a big deal, it is. The fact that my tailbone shattered into the concrete and my palms slid against it, burning and cut, is quite painful. My shades clattered off my head, and I quickly snapped my eyes shut. For some reason, I didn't want this guy knowing I was blind, because he could easily use it against me.
I felt him walk closer to me, and Soda quickly began barking. I think he bit the man, because the man cursed nastily and I heard something that sounded like metal being slid out of a metal slit. I recognized it as a knife, and I felt my eyes prickle with tears.
"Don't hurt him!" I screamed into the cold air. And then, without warning, my mouth had the strangest impulse to ask, "Do you know Johnny Cade?"
Looking back at it now, my mouth was clever to ask the man that question, because if he was a greaser, and so was Johnny, there must've been a connection. But looking at it then, I could only bite my lip and wince at how incredibly stupid I was.
Everything was silenced, like when you put a pillow over your ears. I was almost afraid that I was already dead. And then suddenly and timidly—
"He's dead."
The words floated slowly into my head, and soon they rested on my heart. And with that, the man's footsteps lumbered off, leaving me glued to the floor, wishing it would just open up and suck me in right away.