"…Our hopes and expectations/ black holes and revelations…"
Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, nor am I making a profit. The above lyrics—"Starlight"—are owned by the band Muse. I don't own those either. I do own the poem featured below, however. It seemed fitting.
---
Too Much Crime For Innocence
Got blood on my hands
Can't be washed away
I fear for tomorrow
I run from today
Out of all the places I thought I'd end up, Windrixville was never one of them. The first time I ever even left my own neighborhood, and it was on the run. I think irony is supposed to mean, What a kick in the ass, as if this wasn't already bad enough, and if that's true, then a church as our hideout sure was ironic. I wonder if Dally knows that.
It sure is cold. But it's a different cold—and I don't like it. Sometimes, cold is sort of nice—gentle and soft. A lot of the time, though, it's just plain cold. Right now, I can feel it all over. It's in my chest. You'd think that, what with my heart beating a steady hundred miles an hour, I'd feel warmer, flushed, just kind of overheated…but no. Just cold.
I feel sort of alone, too. I don't know if bringing Ponyboy was such a good idea, after all, but what was I supposed to do? I don't think he really understands what we're in for. Deep down, I think there's a part of him that's sure Darry will save us. I really wish he hadn't gotten mixed up in this. He's just a kid.
I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders, rolling over. I could see the stars from that hole in the ceiling. It's a small hole, but they're small stars, too. Well, not really. Ponyboy said that they ain't as small as they look. It's just 'cause we're so far away. I wonder how far away we really are. Do we look small to them?
Those stars, as pretty as they are, all do look the same. I don't think they are, but from real far away, we must all look the same, too. Maybe it's better that way. We're all just one big, shiny light, over thousands of millions or whatever miles, and you can only see the good stuff. The dark doesn't travel, I guess, and that's good—we've got enough dark anyway.
I smiled a bit. I think it's nice that even us greasers can look good if you just squint and back up about a million miles. I mean, you can't make out all the real good things, the little stuff that only a buddy knows, but it's better to settle for what's there.
Ponyboy mumbled something in his sleep, but I didn't catch it. That's alright, though—I'll let him talk as much as he likes; it can't hurt now. It's so quiet, I think I like knowing he's still there, and this ain't all just a dream. I guess I want it to be a dream, but I can't trick myself—for both of us, I've got to keep it together, stay cool. I haven't really been around anything so quiet since…I don't know. It just ain't natural, almost. Any minute now, I'm sure Elvis will be crooning from some radio, smuggled under the floorboards or something. I hope so, at least. Maybe I'm just nervous. Yeah, quiet makes me nervous. It's like I ought to be expecting something.
I should be sleeping, but I just can't get past that nervous, waiting feeling, no matter how tired I am. I feel just about ready to collapse, like Ponyboy did, but there's this little voice in the back of my head telling me not to—not to relax, not to sleep, not to move. I wish I could sleep. I was before, but only for a few minutes. Right now, I'm not even sure why I woke up in the first place.
I wonder what Darry is thinking right now. He's probably worried out of his mind. If I ever speak to him again, I hope he forgives me for taking Ponyboy. And Soda. I hope he's not mad at me. He should be, though—I took his brother and now he might never see him again. Hell, I'd be mad, too. Actually, I'd probably be real worried.
I wonder if they're sleeping, or if they're up worried, too. I hope they know we're alright. Dally won't tell them, though—he can keep his trap shut real good when he wants to, and I know he wants to now. That's good. That's real good. But I still feel bad for worrying them. They don't deserve any more of that.
And what'll Steve and Two-Bit think when they hear what happened? We're the two least likely to pull a blade on someone, and until today, even I thought there was no chance of actually using it. But I knew I would. Somehow, the first time I touched that blade, I knew it would come down to how fast I could flick it out and do what I had to. I just thought I'd be alone.
Little Johnny Cade and Innocent Ponyboy Curtis. Not so innocent anymore, huh?
Two-Bit probably won't believe it for a while—Johnny? Knife someone? No way. What have you been drinking, and can I have a sip?
Steve…I think Steve'll just consider it. I bet he knew I'd use it if I had to. Two-Bit knows, too.
I think Dally knew I would, too. He wasn't really surprised. He was sort of… What was that word Ponyboy used? Indifferent? I think that was it. Dally was indifferent.
Maybe it isn't me being involved that'll surprise them. Maybe it's Ponyboy—for he could do no wrong that would land him in a boys' home…until now. Well, that's out the window—I think that's the least of his problems.
But that's about it. Everyone else was expecting it from the moment they first laid eyes on me—That kid's up to no good; he's trouble. Socs, the fuzz—all their expectations have finally come to…fruition. I can't really remember where I heard that, but it fits.
A chill ran through the church even worse than before—it's a terrible draft, but I suppose that's what you get for having holes in everything.
I wonder how long it will take my folks to notice I'm gone. Will they notice at all? Well, if they do, at least I won't catch it for being out so long.
But maybe they did notice. Maybe Mom's worried.
I fell asleep around then, wondering if my parents had bothered to watch the door, waiting for me to come home. I wondered if the porch light was on.