Sweet Potato Sunset
Summary: Susie visits her newly orphaned cousins in Tulsa, during the summer of 1966. She meets rogue and charmer Dallas Winston, and through him learns about the Soc/greaser rivalry. Will include romance, unless Dallas worms his way out of it somehow. Rated for language. OFC POV.
A/N: This is just something I thought I would try just to see if I could do it. I'm not at all sure I can, or if I'll continue, but the Internet is lovely and anonymous anyway … sort of. If you have the time and the desire, I'd appreciate you letting me know what you think. All comments and criticisms are welcome!
Disclaimer: "The Outsiders" was written by Susan Eloise Hinton, who owns all you see here, and pnz it as well. I only own Susan. The character. Not the author. Bobby Heath and Charley O'Donnell wrote the song "Pony Boy" in 1909.
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Chapter 1: New Girl in Town – Meet the Whole Gang
xxxx
It'd been only six years since I'd last been in Tulsa, but I'd forgotten how damn hot it could get.
I'd been wary about coming to see my cousins by my lonesome. Me in a house with three boys and no grown-ups? If I was gonna eat at all this summer it was going to be my own cooking, and with heat like this, I wasn't looking forward to it.
I pulled my long blonde hair up and tried to fan the sweat off my neck. My momma always liked me to grow it long, so it hung down almost to my waist. It was always getting tangled, and the fashion was getting shorter and shorter, but Momma liked to practice her styles on me, and she said long hair was like a huge canvas where anything was possible.
I looked around the station; my train had been a little late, but I knew my ride would have waited for me, if only I could find him. I hadn't seen Cousin Darry since he was fourteen and a scrawny little quarterback hopeful. So, it took me awhile to realize who that the tall, muscled man making his way toward me was. He looked tired and drawn, not like I remembered him being, but then, I guess he'd been through a lot this year. It'd be enough to make anyone more serious.
"Susan?" he asked, holding his hand out solemnly.
"What's this, Darry?" I teased, pushing away his hand. "We're family ain't we?" I gave him a big hug, while he stood there like a pole. The last time I'd seen him, Darry hadn't cared much for hugs either, although, I suppose most teenage boys don't.
He gave me a big smile when I stepped back though, said it was good to see me and offered to carry my bag.
"With those muscles, you had better," I told him.
He threw my bag into the back of an old Ford I recognized as belonging to his dad. He looked more like the uncle I remembered from six years ago, and less like the cousin, so I didn't think nothing of seeing him slide into the driver's seat. Till I remembered I wouldn't be seeing Uncle Darry at all.
"How are things?" I asked, trying to put it out of my mind.
"Not bad," Darry grunted, coaxing the protesting car into gear. "We seen better times, but then we seen worse, too." He looked at me sideways. "We ain't livin' like kings though, I won't lie. Space is awful scarce."
"I could stay at a motel," I offered, falteringly.
He shook his head, and turned onto the street. "Nah, we fixed up my old room for you. Soda's aiming on moving in there after, anyway, but he's happy bunking with Ponyboy for awhile."
"Where are you sleeping?"
He coughed, and the tips of his ears went red. "In Mom and Dad's old room," he mumbled.
We drove awhile in silence, both of us feeling bad, and both of us missing Uncle Darry and Aunt Jennie.
Me and Momma had moved away four years past and hadn't been back since, but from my first memory to then she'd been so close to Aunt Jennie, you'd have thought they were sisters, instead of her and Uncle Darry being related. We'd hung around their house plenty, and they'd hung around ours just as much.
"How's Aunt Sue … you still going by Susan?" Darry interrupted himself. "Or is it Mary, now?"
My name is Mary Susan Shipman. My momma named me as normal as she could, because she said after my eldest cousin Darrel Jr. was born, Uncle Darry had gone and ruined her opinion on original names.
I have a cousin named Sodapop, Darry's younger brother, and my momma says that it's because there'd been a time while Aunt Jennie was pregnant with him when she was so nauseous that soda pop and soda crackers was all she could keep down. He named my youngest cousin Ponyboy after a children's song Aunt Jennie sang to put him to sleep that went like this:
Pony Boy, Pony Boy, won't you be my Tony Boy?
Don't say no. Here we go off across the plains.
Marry me, carry me right away with you.
Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, whoa! My Pony Boy.
Uncle Darry claimed he was being creative, so Momma said she could be just as creative and pick a decent name while at it. She named me Mary, because she birthed me backwards and she said she'd never shouted at Mary so bad before in her life, and felt the need to make it up to her afterwards. And she named me Susan, after her, because she said only the wisest women could carry off that name.
A day in the library taught me that Susan was the patron saint of innocence and saviour from infamy and reproach.
Nice try, momma. You keep on hoping for that innocence.
"Momma's just fine, and it's still Susie," I told Darry.
"Susie, Susie, quite contrary," Darry said, suddenly, and gave me a sly grin.
I made a face, but relaxed and laughed with him. When Sodapop had been eight years old, he'd found out my first name was Mary and sung that song until I screamed at him. Aunt Jennie told him my name was Susie, and if he'd called me Mary another time, she'd box his ears. So, Sodapop sang the version Darry reminded me of.
Sodapop always had been a little brat.
"How is old RC Cola anyway?" I asked, getting another laugh from Darry.
"Ratty Chicken is just fine," he said. "And you keep your mouth shut about who really came up with that nickname."
"What, ain't you proud? He deserved it."
Darry shook his head. "He's long since grown from that bratty stage, Susie. You'll like him now, everybody does."
I scowled. "He used to pull my hair, you know."
He nodded, amused. "And you pulled his right back."
I shook my head. "You'll always be my favourite cuz," I drawled, only half-kidding. Sodapop was my age almost exactly, and had been a terror of pranks and bratty jokes and excess energy the entire time I'd known him. Pony had always been a little moody and clingy, but Darry had always been nice to me, comforting me when Soda pulled his tricks and even tutoring me in math once.
Darry raised an eyebrow. "What an honour."
"On that note," I said, reaching into my bag. "I've got a present for you from Momma."
I held out the envelope to him, and was about to tell him just how much was in it, when I noticed a muscle in his jaw twitching.
"That's okay," he mumbled. "You keep it."
I shook my head. "Momma's orders. She said she was awful sorry she couldn't get here for the funeral, and wanted to make it up some. She said she knows it can't be easy making ends meet now that your folks are-"
"She knows, huh."
I stopped talking, hearing the bite in his voice. Darry stared straight ahead through the glass, not looking at me. I guess he felt bad for snapping though, because his voice was a little gentler, but firm, when he next spoke:
"We don't need the money."
Most boys from east side Tulsa are stubborn as hell when it comes to their pride. It's the one thing they've got plenty of. I knew it'd do no good to argue with Darry, so I put the money away, making a note to myself to find some way of foisting it on him. Maybe Sodapop would come in handy after all.
xxxx
The Curtis house looked a lot smaller than I remembered it being.
Darry slowed the truck and I tried not to let the surprise show on my face. They were letting me stay, and I didn't want to be ungrateful.
"Suuuuuuusie!"
I'd barely gotten out of the door of the truck when I was whisked off my feet and thrown through the air like a sack of flour.
"Put me down! Soda Curtis!" I yelled.
"The one and only," Soda said, beaming.
I had to take a step back when I first saw him. I'd never thought of Sodapop as handsome before, but when I'd left we'd both been only ten. He was sixteen now, and more good-looking than all the boys in Wyoming put together.
"Glory, Sodapop, who'd you steal those good looks from?"
He shook his head and gave me that crazy grin. "I guess it was you, judging from your looks."
"And you ain't changed one bit," I said, irritably.
I aimed a punch at him and he toppled over on the grass, yelping in pretend pain.
"Soda, get off the ground and show your cousin some manners, will ya?" Darry hollered, jogging up the steps. "Ponyboy! Where the heck … probably reading or dreaming or … PONYBOY!"
"This boy ain't got no manners, Darry," I said, and stuck my tongue out at Soda.
"I'm a changed man, I swear!" He rolled over on the grass and propped himself up. "Susie, it's been too long. You don't know how much I missed you."
Looking at his big brown eyes, I almost sat down on the grass right beside him like we were ten again, and plotting how to flush the toilet while Darry showered. But, I caught myself in time.
"Well, I didn't miss you," I said, moodily. "All them pranks, and tricks, and jokes …"
"Aw, Susie, you know I was only teasing." Soda rolled to his feet and gave me a sheepish smile. "Only, you had the misfortune of knowing me when I was a kid. I'm all grown up, Susie, you'll see." He smiled at me, a nice, warm, normal, non-pranking smile.
"I'm keeping my eye on you," I said, just to be sure. But, I hugged him, just to be polite. He was my cousin, after all.
"He ain't into pranking no more. He's only into girls." Ponyboy's voice swooped up the octave for girls, and he blushed and cleared his throat.
"Ponyboy," I said, warmly. "You're all grown up!"
"Hey," Soda said, indignantly. "How come you're all nice to Pony off the bat, and you give me the hairy eyeball, huh?"
"She was nice to me, too," Darry said, mildly.
"Neither Darry nor Ponyboy ever put gum in my hair," I shot back.
Soda folded his arms across the chest. "Yeah, well I seem to remember you putting ice in my pants."
I couldn't help laugh. He looked like a little kid again, pouting.
"Alright, Sodapop," I said, putting both hands on my waist. "You gonna have to prove you've been good, and then maybe I'll trust you again. Understood?"
"Understood." Soda's mouth twitched. "And likewise."
xxxx
"This is your room." Darry glanced at me quickly. "It ain't much."
"It's wonderful," I said, then stepped into it. It was smaller than a pickle barrel, and smelled about as good.
Soda stepped in after me. "If you're wondering what that smell is, it's Darrel's socks," he said, under his breath.
"Or Soda's cooking," Darry said, dryly.
"Or, it's the paint that Darry put on the walls last night to make it look better." Ponyboy flipped on the light switch, showing the gleaming, clean white walls.
"Thank you," I said, polite as possible while still holding my breath. "It looks lovely. You didn't have to trouble yourself."
Darry shrugged, looking embarrassed. "No trouble."
We trooped back to the kitchen, which smelled a lot better on account of the chicken Soda was roasting.
"Your refrigerator door is open," I said, hurrying to close it.
"Hey!" yelped a voice.
I screamed and leapt back, as a rusty-haired man backed out of the refrigerator, rubbing his head.
"About took my head clear off," he said, ruefully. Then he brightened. "Are you the new Curtis?"
"In a manner of speaking," I said, haltingly. I'd be cautious of any strange man popping up out of my refrigerator, but none of my cousins looked worried.
He smiled slowly, his grey eyes twinkling. "Well, now I recognize you. Only took me a minute, cause you're so pretty now."
I blushed. A stranger he might be, but a compliment's a compliment's a compliment.
"You used to be a scrawny little rug rat."
My cousins laughed. I planted my fists on my waist and glared at him. "Who are you to say something like that?"
"Don't you recognize him, Susie?" Soda said, surprised.
I paused, and looked back at the man. He did look awfully familiar, but he was older, maybe as old as Darry. I'd known my cousins friends; we'd all grown up together. But, I'd spent more time with their sisters, and in any case, the last I'd seen of any of them they'd been kids.
The redhead grinned. "I'm Steve Randle. You don't recognize me?"
I couldn't help staring. "Steve … Randle? Now, you don't look a thing like you used to."
"Two-Bit," Darry said, tiredly.
I looked at him in confusion. "'Two-Bit'? What's that mean?"
The redhead doubled over laughing. "Well, honey, I think he means me, but I don't know why. I'm Steve Randle."
"No, I'm Steve Randle," said an irritable voice, and another boy poked his head in through the screen door.
"No smoking in here, Steve," Soda called out. "Ruin all the nice smells I got coming off of this bird."
I looked around me and started to feel nervous. They were all nice boys … but, glory, what girl wouldn't feel a little out of sorts with five other boys and no girls in the room? And who knew how many more were hiding in the backyard?
"Hey, Susie, long time no see," said the new boy's head. "I'm the real Steve."
"Naw, it's me!"
"It's not," I said. "He's Steve." I pointed at the new boy. "You're Keith Mathews."
The redhead looked mildly surprised.
"Fucking bullshit!"
I leapt about a foot in the air. I won't pretend I'd never heard language like that before. I was well acquainted, growing up in the neighbourhood that I had. But, that didn't mean I liked it all that much.
"Dal-"
"No, it's fucking horseshit, Johnny. I ain't been nowhere near his fucking piece of shit car, I don't care what that whore fucking slut of his tells him, that son-of-a-bitch."
Dallas Winston stepped into the kitchen and I about died.
I remembered making fun of his hair with Sodapop when we were real young, calling him "tow-head" until he'd loosed one of Soda's baby teeth. It hadn't changed since then, only got a little longer, and it shone even in the under lit kitchen. He was pale, and skinny and every bit as tough as he'd been seven years ago. Only now he wasn't ten, and I wasn't nine.
I leaned heavily against the counter.
He crossed the kitchen in three quick steps, not noticing the silence, opened the refrigerator and pulled out what looked like a beer. "I oughtta kick his ass from here to fucking hell is what I oughtta – holy shit, who brought the chick?"
I could feel my face get hot almost instantly.
"You remember, Susie, our cousin?" Soda said, quickly.
I guess it was a kind thing to do, but I wished he'd introduced me as Susan instead.
Dallas looked at me, in the same way every boy his age looked at just about every girl but his sister: way up high was too high, way down low was too low, but somewhere in the middle was just right for his eyes.
I folded my arms over the subject of his gaze and he managed to look at my face.
"Sorry," he said and took a sip from his beer, "about the swearin'. I didn't know you were there."
"That's a-okay," I said, and immediately thought what a stupid thing it was to say.
He squinted at me and scratched his head. "Boy, you look different. All … old."
"Thank you," I said, stiffly, feeling a little less nervous. I wanted to tell him he looked exactly the same as that little ten-year-old boy I'd known seven years ago before we'd both gone and left Tulsa, and I was surprised he didn't recognize me. But, did he even remember … ?
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, looking awkward, then frowned. "Well, what's everyone staring at huh? I grow another arm?"
"Sure would come in handy, since I hear Sylvia's gone off you again," Steve said.
Dallas made a face. "She didn't go off me. I went off her." He paused, and then smirked. "And mind your manners around the little lady, huh?"
For some reason, everyone seemed to find this hilarious.
"It ain't you," Keith said, kindly, noticing my look. "It's him. Believe me."
"You seen Johnny?" Dallas said, suddenly. "He was with me a minute ago …"
"Probably took off," Soda said. "'Fraid of girls and all."
"Wise man," Dallas grunted and trudged out the way he came without looking back.
"That's Dallas," Keith said, helpfully. "You'll remember him forever as the guy who could fit more swear words into a sentence than you could fit burgers into this one." He motioned at Soda.
"Or beers into that one," Soda added, motioning back at Keith.
I thought about Dallas' tuff blond hair, and the lean look of him and figured I'd remember something else entirely.
