Part Two of Cherry's diary. This follows on from the first one. Out task here was to write down Cherry's thoughts on the rumble, just before it happens. This is much shorter than the first entry. Hope you enjoy it!
The Diary of Cherry Valance – Second Entry
Dear Diary,
It's been a while since I sat down, took up this pen and wrote, so I'm not too sure where to start. I suppose I should explain why I'm writing again. The answer is; tonight. I need somewhere to put down all my thoughts before tonight. Tonight. One big rumble. I won't be there of course, it's only the guys. But I'll be thinking about it. Socs vs. Greasers. Once and for all. The final stand, the last battle. I hate fights, any fight, but particularly rumbles. So many could die. And it's all my fault.
If only I hadn't gone to the drive-in last week. If only Bob hadn't brought drinks . . . Bob. This rumble is for him. He'd have loved to be in it. But he can't. He can't ever be a part of any rumble ever again. Because he's dead. Dead. He died the night of the drive-in. I had no idea. After they picked us up from the greasers, I was furious with him. Furious at them for getting drunk. But mostly furious for what I knew he'd done to the shy, quiet greaser, Johnny. For what Ponyboy had told me Johnny had had to go through when he was beaten up. Beaten up by Bob.
They dropped us off home and Marcia and I left them without so much of a 'good bye'. If only I'd known then what was to happen . . . but I didn't. The last thing Bob saw of me was anger. I went to bed in a huff. The next thing I knew, it was the middle of the night and my phone was ringing. I answered it to hear a panicking Randy. That was when I first heard about Bob's death. He just sort of, blurted it out. Just like that. I dropped the phone. For some reason, it didn't feel true. I felt like I was in a waking dream. It was just so . . . so . . . surreal. Perhaps I thought that if I went to sleep, I'd wake up and it would all be a lie, I'm not sure. I just shrugged it off.
But the next day, the fact was still there. Bob was dead. I caught up with my friends. They'd all been told as well. They comforted me, all of them crying their eyes out. But for some strange reason, I wasn't. I hadn't cried. I hadn't cried the night before, and I wasn't crying now. I was just too dazed to register any emotions. As his girlfriend, I should have been sobbing my eyes out. But I wasn't.
The police called me down to the station for interviewing later that day. I think that was when it hit me. It was all so official there. So serious. That was when I finally broke down. It felt like everything had been bottled up to this point, and was suddenly released. For the first time, I cried, truly cried. The police were very sympathetic. I remember thinking that everything was so stupid. Bob beat up Johnny, Johnny became a nervous wreck, then stabbed Bob in self-defence. That people could die for such stupid reasons! And least of all, to the hand of Johnny, small, quiet, hurt Johnny. It was all so stupid.
I admitted to the police that the Socs had been drunk and were looking for a fight. I always knew alcohol would get people nowhere. I also told them what I knew about Johnny's beating and agreed that it had been in self-defence. I knew deep-down that Bob had probably asked for it, but I couldn't help feeling that it was unfair payment.
I stopped off at the gas station on my journey back. Not that I needed to fill up my car or anything. No, I was looking for someone. Someone in particular. There was only one person working there. Not the person I was looking for, but I figured he might be able to help. Sodapop, Ponyboy's brother. That other greaser, the one that had been there that night, Two-Bit, he was there too. I asked them if they knew where Ponyboy was. They immediately sobered up. They told me he was on the run – with Johnny. I felt suddenly angry. Johnny.
Johnny, the murderer, was hiding and had taken Ponyboy with him. Because of what he'd done to Bob, I felt pure hatred. I felt annoyed with Ponyboy for siding with him, felt furious with all the greasers. But then I looked back up at Sodapop and saw the worry in his eyes. Ponyboy was his brother. Of course he was worried. And for the first time, I heard a catch in Two-Bit's voice at the mention of Johnny. Johnny had acted in self-defence. How could I blame him? If anyone was to blame it was me. I was at the cause of all this. It was my fault. Mine.
So that was how I started helping them. I became a spy. To repay the greasers for my faults. They aren't just a gang. They're not just friends. They are family. They're all brothers, and truly care about each other. They were worried, scared, for Ponyboy and Johnny. And it was my fault that they were troubled. So, ever since, I've been relating information from our side, concerning the rumble, to them. Bob would have been disgusted. But it's the least I can do for him.
This morning, though, I got the shock of my life. I was flicking through the morning news, when – there they were. Johnny, Ponyboy and Dallas Winston. I found myself just staring at their pictures for a while. Johnny had cut his hair. It made his eyes look even more nervous. He was terrified of what he'd done. How could I have blamed him? Ponyboy – he'd bleached and cut his hair. In a strange way, it made him look more like Sodapop. And Dallas – I tried not to look at him. I read the article underneath.
It said there had been a fire, in nearby Windrixville. Five children had been caught in it, but Johnny, Ponyboy and Dallas had saved them. Of Ponyboy, I could see why he would have done that. He's cut out to be a hero, I think. And Johnny, Johnny too. That night, he did it to save Ponyboy. It wasn't his fault. But Winston – no way was he a hero. I vaguely wondered when he had changed.
Apparently, all three had been in hospital. Thankfully, Ponyboy was all right; he'd already left. Dallas – I told myself I didn't care about him. But what hit me the most was Johnny. It said he was critically injured. If he recovered, he'd never be able to walk again. Odd, isn't it, how fate repays itself? I should have been sorry for him, but I wasn't. I couldn't be. I still couldn't face what he'd done to Bob.
My second shock came later on. Randy cornered me, and, rather uncomfortably, told me that he wouldn't be going to the rumble. I could hardly believe my ears. Since when did Randy, Bob's loyal side-kick, turn down a fight? And then I realised that that was why. Because he'd been Bob's friend. He said that Bob had died in a fight, so fighting wouldn't solve anything. I totally agree with him.
This afternoon, I was waiting in the lot for the greasers to come by. And they did come by. Two-Bit . . . and Ponyboy. For some reason, I hadn't expected to see him. I relayed some information to Two-Bit, who accepted it and walked off. He's easy around me now. All the greasers in their gang are. They've got used to me. I asked Ponyboy to stay behind to talk. He seemed different. Older. The days on the run and the fire had matured him. Gone was that innocent boy I'd met at the drive-in. There was a stranger in his place.
He seemed almost annoyed that I'd sided with them. He called me a 'traitor to my own kind'. That hurt the most. I'd thought Ponyboy would have understood the most why I was doing this. But all the others had accepted me. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps Ponyboy would be the one who never got used to me. The thought saddened me.
He asked me if I'd go to see Johnny in hospital. I knew at once from the look in his eye and the catch in his voice what was happening. Johnny's dying. He's not going to make it. But I can't bring myself to visit him. It'd be too much of a reminder of Bob. But mostly I won't go to see him because it's my fault that he's there. It's my fault one guy is already dead and another lies dying. It's all my fault.
And I can't stand that.
What do you think? Do you think Cherry would have been thinking these things? Please let me know by reviewing! Thanks for reading - next will be 'Randy Confesses: Part One - to Cherry'.
