Hey guys! Man, I haven't posted in a long, long, long time! I've just been so busy with school and work I forgot. Well, this story is just for fun and to work as a little therapy for me when life gets too crazy. I hope you enjoy!
No flames and please review! I appreciate it!
I own nothing.
January 8, 1965
Don't Read This, Mr. Syme
9:45 am
So I haven't gotten yanked into the principal's office for cheating yet. Either you aren't going to read this or you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security so I'll spill more secrets. Very sneaky, Mr. S, but I've had enough practice playing teachers' games.
Whatever, I don't give a rat's ass, and it's not like Pops would leave his recliner to come down here over one grade. He doesn't seem to care about much these days since-
No, it doesn't matter. I have more important things to discuss with . . . well, I guess myself (and you, Mr. Syme, if you're reading this, but you better not be).
You're spouting off some bullshit about verbs and adjectives right now, but it's so obvious no one is listening. Everyone is still thinking and whispering about what happened this morning.
Apparently, a grease monkey slept with the school's star player's girlfriend, and the two idiots started punching the snot out of each other. Then, the other guys from the team jumped on the greaser, and well, everyone knows greasers travel in packs, so they weren't far behind in joining.
God, it was so exciting to watch. Much more exciting than this dumb English class. I heard in homeroom from Shannon that Bucky Hill lost a tooth from the fight. I actually feel a little bad for the greaser who did it. He better watch his back.
Unfortunately, now everyone is talking about Ponyboy Curtis. He wasn't even in the fight, but everyone keeps throwing his name around! Ponyboy, Ponyboy, Ponyboy, it's all I'm hearing. I guess everyone keeps mentioning him cause some of his lackeys actually fought. Bunch of delinquents. . .
I wonder if Damien was involved. Damien Armstrong. I'm sitting all the way in the back with Tiffany and Shannon (yeah, the girls with big hair and endless supply of gum. The 'Chain Chewers' That's right, I've heard what the teachers call us).
From my seat, I have the perfect vantage point to see Mr. Delicious Damien's perfect blonde hair that looks like he just ran a hair through it and came to school. His tan skin just makes his impossibly white smile appear much brighter. His eyes are just so dreamy and blue and-
Oh shit! He just caught me staring! Maybe, he won't think anything of it. He and I don't talk much anyway. He and Shannon are friends, so I only talk to him when he drops by our lunch table to sell Shannon cigarettes.
Shannon's dad is a big shot lawyer so I'm positive she could swindle smokes somewhere else, but I've already decided Damien is my future husband so I'm not going to complain.
Before class, Shannon and Tiffany were discussing this huge shindig at some senior girl's house. I don't know why my friends are always so involved with upperclassmen, but every single day I always hear about who bedded whom, new trends, breakups, and parties from Shannon and Tiffany. Oh well, their excitement helps me forget all my shit going on.
I was hardly listening to their discussion when Tiffany giggled, "I can get us into a senior party!"
Caught off guard, I shut my locker door on fingers (which hurt like a bitch), but no one paid attention to my pain.
"OMGEE, how?" Shannon screeched. Tiffany shushed her, and she looked to see if anyone was listening to us.
"The girl who's throwing it is Link Armstrong's girlfriend! My brother tutored her best friend, and she said that he could bring friends, but he's grounded so he said I can have his invite, and I'm bringing you guys!"
A party? No, an upperclassmen party?
My sister would have been over the moon and around the world about this. Nothing but trouble could come from this. The best kind of parties to attend or so I've been told.
Tiffany gasped. "We need new outfits!"
Crap.
"No one will know if we wear something we already have, Tiff," I said louder than I meant.
"But we'll know! We need something new to give us a major confidence boost!" then she had the nerve to smirk. "Especially, you Toni."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She and Shannon exchanged exasperated looks as if they talked about this subject many times. "You always wear the same old ratty jeans and t shirt!"
"It's my style!"
"Just let us take you shopping!" Tiffany begged.
Shannon butt in, "Yeah there's a great new boutique by my neighborhood!"
"Oh idea!" Tiffany screeched. "Why don't we all just get something out of Jess's closet?"
"No," I snapped. "How could you even say that?"
Tiffany put her hand on my shoulder, but I shook it off. "Ok, ok, we're sorry."
Shannon sighed. "Yeah, but honestly, Toni, it's halfway through our freshman year! Those baby middle school parties just don't cut it anymore, and we need to make a good impression at this upperclassmen party"
Then, a slow smile curled around the corners of her mouth. "I know Damien is going to be there. He told me during math. I'm sure he would love to talk to you."
With that shit eating grin, Shannon knew she had me.
Maybe I could manage something.
"I'll get a new outfit myself so don't worry about shopping without me."
"We'll be by your house at eight thirty," Shannon laughed and looped her arm through Tiffany's, and I watch them flounce into English class.
My first real party ever. Would I be able to handle it?
A small sigh behind me grabbed my attention. I turned to lock eyes with a boy who always wore tattered jeans and stained, solid colored t shirts and sported permanently slicked back hair.
Ponyboy Curtis. The thorn in my side since for the last year and a half. He cleared his throat and closed his locker, but I stood in his way as he attempted to pass.
"Were you listening to our conversation?" I huffed, hands on my hips. His grayish green eyes rolled as if he silently prayed for patience.
"Our lockers are beside each other," he mumbled. "It's not like I was trying to."
"I'm sure it doesn't take that long to get your books, Curtis," I shot back.
He just shrugged. "How would you know? You never bring your books to class."
"Maybe I just let my friends borrow them!" I refused to admit that my books were in my bedroom still in their plastic wrapping.
Turning to leave, he said over his shoulder, "Have fun at the party, Toni."
"I knew you were listening!" I shouted after him which earned me confused looks from other students. Ponyboy Curtis, for as long as I knew him, always had a talent for skulking around where he wasn't wanted and listening to things he shouldn't.
Must be a greaser trait.
Ugh, anyways, I had more important things that required my focus. Like what to wear. I had no money, and my dad only spent our money on bills and beer. I doubt he would even let me finish a sentence before trudging off to his recliner. I would get no help from him.
Maybe I could find something in Jess's closet.
Or I would have to resort to my second, more desperate option.
Ah, there's the bell. Ha, I've written through your whole class, Mr. S. Maybe I'll write more often if it makes classes go quicker.
Remember, do not read this!
4:15 pm
Don't You Dare Read This, Mr. S!
It took me exactly thirty minutes standing in front of Jess's door before I turned my ass around and ran to my room.
Curled into a ball on my tiny bed, I tried to calm my rapid heart. How could I survive tonight? No amount of boring gym dances and rationing a bottle of stolen champagne in Shannon's basement from Shannon's parents liquor cabinet could prepare me for the bomb site that awaited me.
Maybe I could say I had too much homework to do? No, I never did homework.
Maybe say my dad wanted to spend time with me? No, he couldn't care less.
Maybe I've fallen down with a deadly disease and stepping one foot outside my bedroom would cause me to drop dead? Maybe.
But Shannon had said Damien wanted to talk to me. I couldn't pass up this golden opportunity!
After thirty minutes of throwing a pity party (it was quite a rager if I do say so myself), I slinked to the kitchen looking for something to eat since an apple for breakfast doesn't exactly fill a growing girl like myself.
And no surprise! My fridge only contained beer and mustard. My loving father left a sticky note on the counter.
Be back later, it read. No indication of where he went. No cash left for me to get food. No 'love you sport!' Nothing. Just empty, vague words. Nothing new here at the Turner household.
Intense hunger pains stabbed my sides. The party would be my best bet for food then. Shit.
Speaking of shit, that's exactly what my housed smelled like because my father neglected to take the trash that sat on the kitchen floor for days again! I stomped to the garbage outside when a familiar lanky figure caught my eye.
Ponyboy Curtis? What the hickity heck is he doing here?
I don't live in a fancy part of town by any means, but greasers tend to stick to their part of town since enough hoity toity people decided to plant their little white houses here as a means of "living humble" as my mom once put it.
I would have turned back to my house, but the thought of agonizing over the party and my lack of an outfit caused my feet to follow after the Curtis boy. Thanks to years of sneaking out my house, I followed the boy undetected. He cut between two houses and into the woods behind them. We walked for a good fifteen minutes until we came to small stream which then Ponyboy just plopped down like a horse and pulled a book from his bag. He was writing furiously, and I feared he would start a fire on the page. Did he keep a diary? Ha, what a chick! I guess he heard me approaching because suddenly he jumped to his feet and spun around with a terrified expression.
"Dang, Curtis, keep your skirt on, it's just me."
He frowned when he realized it was me. "You say that like it's supposed to be a good thing."
Well damn, son.
"First of all, ouch," I allowed him one victory. "Second of all, why you creeping around my turf? Greaser hovels ain't good enough for you?"
"I didn't realize you owned a whole forest," He shot back. "I guess you have to store awful attitude somewhere."
"Seriously, Curtis, I don't feel safe with your kind coming around. Why are you here?"
He gestured to the scenery around us. Plant life was still recovering from the bitter winter cold, and the lack of greenery made the area feel empty so not a lot of people wandered through here. It was only warm enough that a stream full of muddy water trickled.
"No one bothers me here," he mumbled. With an annoyed look my way, he added. "Until now."
I noticed he hid the book behind his back.
"What are you writing?"
"None of your business."
"Come on, Ponyboy, lemme see," I flashed a smile. "Is it that annoying journal project, Mr. S has us doin?"
"Y-yeah."
He was clearly lying.
"Let me see!" I lunged for him. I reached around him and grasped the book. Shaking off his surprise, Ponyboy was surprisingly strong as he yanked his book back.
"No! It's private!" He yelled, pulling his book.
It was suddenly a tug of war between two scrawny teens.
Then, this little chicken boy actually swung the book and me a little too hard. I guess he didn't mean to be so forceful because he lost his own grip on the spiral notebook.
Which meant that dumb thing and me went flying into the muddy stream.
Damn, Mr. S, let me tell you that water was cold!
It didn't help that I was mortified. My clothes were ruined and I felt mud and who knows what else slip into some very uncomfortable places.
"Are you okay?" Ponyboy stepped into the water towards me with an outstretched hand.
I slapped his hand away. "No thanks to you! You threw me in here!"
He recoiled, staring at me with his big eyes. "It was an accident! My book got ruined too!"
I grabbed the drenched book and threw it at his chest. "Fine just take it! Reading your dumb diary isn't even worth it!"
"Toni, it's just water. You'll dry," He snapped.
I jumped up and shoved him, sending him into the water as well. He let out an indignant shout.
"It's just water. You'll dry," I shot with a fake sweet smile.
"Don't be mad at me! It's your fault!" He shouted after me.
As I stomped back to my house, no doubt leaving a muddy trail, my mind ran a million miles a minute. I was cold, wet, hungry, and still no outfit for the party.
Since Jess's closet was out of the question, I decided that I would have to go with option number two then.
7:50pm
DON'T READ THIS, MR. S!
I locked myself in my bathroom to write this.
I don't get paid until Thursday (I don't want to talk about my job, Mr. S), and even my minimal pay goes toward helping Pops out. I'll no doubt have to buy groceries Friday. I'll figure how I'll eat later.
My problem right now is in a clump at my feet.
Let me just say, I'm not proud of what I do.
I took painstakingly precise precautions to ensure that no one I knew would be at that store. I even dressed in my mother's old dress and wrapped one of her scarves around my head so no one would make the realization that it was me.
I watched the employee for a good two hours to learn her pattern. That girl left every thirty minutes for a smoke break. Her next one, I scurried in and grabbed a dress in the back that no one would miss.
I put on the robin's egg blue floral, knee length dress and quickly yanked my mother's baggy dress over it.
Easy procedure.
Something I've done multiple times and always for the same reason.
To attend some social function my friends dragged me to.
Jess always said that dishonesty is the coward's way.
In this case, she's right.
But I'd rather be dishonest than alone.
8:30pm
Do Not Read This, Mr. Syme!
I honestly couldn't tell you what the actual house looked like, Mr. S. Teenagers lined the halls and flooded the rooms. All the lights were off save for some lamps and lighters as students keep lighting cigarettes. I couldn't even make out the wall color or any décor.
"I haven't eaten since lunch," I lied. "Let's go get some snacks!"
It was so hard to eat slow so they wouldn't suspect anything as I saw the assortment of glorious treats laid perfectly in the kitchen like some heavenly banquet. Hot dogs, hamburgers, chips and dip, cookies, ice cream, and other snacks! I piled food on my plate and shoved two hamburgers in my dress pockets for later when no one was looking. One for me and my dad since he probably didn't eat today too.
Tiffany immediately beelined for drinks.
Interrupting my intense grub session, Shannon smiled and pulled me to the living room. "We're going to look for Damien," she said.
Even though she had a death grip on me, the crowd's savage dancing pulled us apart. I somehow ended up in the arms of an already wasted sophomore.
"Hey, you're Tiny Turner, aren't you?" I actually growled at the nickname. My sister was a goddess around the town, but me, her less desirable sister, was dubbed Tiny Turner.
That name makes me want to pull my eye balls out and play golf with them.
"It's actually Toni," I shoved him off. He didn't seem deterred.
"Righteous," he smiled, but it was a little creepy. He held a red cup towards me. "You a partier like your sis?"
Even though I wanted to deck him for mentioning Jess, it was still a party and I had a full stomach and needed to let loose a little before I saw Damien.
"Why don't you see for yourself?" I smirked and downed the drink.
Big mistake. That stuff literally smelled like wet garbage and burned like a bitch. I almost spit it back up.
The guy let out a whoop and ran to the kitchen probably for more drinks.
Some guys were eyeing me, and I smiled at them. I had to practice my flirting before I talked to Damien. I wore the blue dress I snatched earlier. I grabbed one of mother's old brown belts to accentuate my waist. I teased my hair to high heaven and I slapped my cheeks to give me a rosy color since I couldn't afford makeup.
I look pretty good.
That guy returned and I learned his name was Kevin. He even brought along some friends, both a mix of sophomores and juniors. We all were downing shots and talking about future and past parties when a totally awesome song was blasting.
I rushed off to dance and that's where things get kind of blurry.
9:15pm
DON'T READ THIS, MR. S
I found Tiff and Shannon. They had some alcohol running through them. They offered me some drinks. I ate some more food before returning to dance. Still no sign of Damien, but I wanted to enjoy myself until I would look for him. More drinks were offered to me by some guys and Shannon and Tiffany.
I may have accepted them and continued to dance.
9:30pm
Don't Read This, Mr. S
Wow, the drinks at this party were so amazing! My favorites were the pink and purple ones. I have to find out the names . . .
10:00pm
Don't Read This, Mr. S!
Kevin and his friends came up to me again, and offered me some weird combo drink. It tasted fuzzy. Can fuzzy be used to describe drinks?
10:500000000oooooPppMmM
D0ono Reedd Tiss,, Mmr S
I FeelL fEckking fantitstic... Buttt IIIM sleeeepyzzz
111111222222333PPPPPPpppmm
Doooonottttt Riddd TisS MrrR SSSSSSS
I neeed too peeeee
Whuy is it so hotttt in hereee?
12:18 pm
DON'T READ THIS MR. SYME!
I freaking fell asleep in the bathroom! I don't even remember how I got here! But I feel terrible, damn. Like my head is swimming and my stomach hurts. Too many drinks and too much food. I didn't even last a couple of hours before I passed out. Gah, what a wimp I am.
God, please don't let me be sick before I've even seen Damien-
OHMYGOSH DAMIEN!
I haven't even looked for him yet!
I flung open the door to see a leather jacket wearing, white teen guy with dark blonde hair slicked back. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips and his blue eyes held a mocking gleam. Oh crap, he was a greaser.
"You good, princess?" he laughed, smoke escaping from his lips. "You almost gave yourself a concussion with the way you were falling all over yourself. I'm surprised you even woke up."
"What happened? Why are you here, greaser?"
He tutted. "Is that any way to speak to your rescuer? You were chugging drinks like you never drank before. You almost pulled your dress off cause you had to 'take a hot piss' as you screamed. So I brought you here to where people usually do that."
Oh my-
"Shut up, I did not do that!"
He laughed. "Believe what you want. Everyone heard it. You're just welcome I waited outside to make sure you were ok."
I took a minute to glance at myself in the mirror. Oh goodness gracious, my dress was wrinkled and my hair lopsided. No chance of fixing that now.
I sighed, aggravated. "Whatever you think you did, no thanks. I can take care of myself. Now scram."
He whistled. "Damn, your sister was a whole lot nicer."
I froze. "You knew my sister?"
He raised an eyebrow as if I asked a stupid question. "Yeah, she-"
"Two-Bit, there you are," a voice that I was tired of hearing appeared. "Is she alright?"
"Yeah, she's alright," the greaser, Two-Bit apparently, chuckled. "Just woke up on the wrong side of the bathroom floor."
"Oh, she's always like that. Anything different and we should've been worried."
Ponyboy Curtis stood beside us in a blue shirt (no stains this time!) and jeans. His impossibly dark hair slicked back in his usual fashion, but this quiet boy looked terribly out of place in this loud, crowded setting. I didn't even know he went to parties. Shouldn't he be off reading somewhere?
"Curtis, what are you doing here?"
He didn't look at me when he answered. "Two-Bits dragged me here. I was just about to leave when you tried to uh- um-"
"Give everyone a free show," Two-Bits interrupted. "Thanks, but no thanks for that."
Great, so not only did everyone see me try to undress, but Ponyboy-Throw-Girls-In-Streams-And-Ruin-Their-Favorite-Jeans-Curtis also saw. I might never live this down.
"Maybe you should go home, Turner. You don't look so good."
If this boy speaks one more time I'm going to kill him.
"Maybe you should-"
"HEY, GREASETRAPS!"
Link Armstrong, the school's star football player, sauntered up to us, and he was followed by four other beefy seniors. Damien, the only freshman there and Link's little brother, was with them. He looked so handsome in his white sweater~.
Oh shit, I hope he didn't witness my drunken mess.
I haven't even talked to him yet.
His eyes were so big and sweet. Oh goodness, I look terrible.
Why did the thought of talking to Damien make my heart want to beat right out my chest and make sweat like a wooly mammoth?
Why- Oh, oh my, Link was getting up in Two-Bits's face.
"Where's your punk friend, Roadhog?" He demanded.
Two-Bits looked unbothered with a six foot one athlete leaning in so close with a crazed look in his eye.
"Do I look like his nanny? What, you expect me to keep a leash on him? Give him treats and train to sit and shit outside?"
Link grabbed Two-Bits by the front of his leather jacket. "I'm not in the mood for games. That scumbag slept with my girlfriend and I wanna make him pay!"
"Wasn't that fight this morning enough for you?" Two-Bits asked. He pointed to a glaring Bucky Hill. "Your friend ca relay the message for you. Back off me and my crew. By the way, you're welcome for the tooth. It makes you look tougher."
Link shoved him into the wall and his cronies advanced closer, encircling the blonde. Damien went to my side. His cologne wafted around me.
It smelled delicious.
It was almost comforting, but the raging testerone in this small hallway was getting too much.
Ponyboy stepped closer to the group.
"Hey, we can just talk this out-"
One of Link's buddies grabbed his shoulder and shoved him beside Two Bits on the wall.
Oh goodness. Seeing a fight from afar between two guys I didn't know was fun, but Ponyboy is my classmate. Plus, four on two isn't fair.
"Toni, were they bothering you?" Damien (he's so sweet!) asked, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Well, y-yes but it wasn't a big deal o-or anything," I stuttered.
Oh goodness, the butterflies were making my stomach churn.
"Look, we ain't here to make trouble," Two-Bits said, but Link only got angrier.
"It doesn't matter what you do!" he snarled. "Trouble follows you and your dog pack."
"Hey, hey now, I better not be seeing you Socs pawin' my boys like that!"
Oh goodness. More greasers.
Three more greasers had decided to make an appearance. They each grabbed a football player, and once one of them threw a punch that squarely landed on Link Armstrong's perfect nose, it was game over.
The tussling boys kicked and punched out the hallway and into the living room. They knocked over lamps, pictures, and people. Once a couple of teens spilled their drinks they started shouting.
Things took a turn for the worst when one wasted boy had no idea what was happening, and he must have thought the fight was group event because he took a swing at kid next to him! More guys joined in on the fight!
Fists, hair, and various small pieces of décor were flying everywhere!
The chaos terrified me. I was suddenly becoming woozy. My vision was getting blurry again. My stomach ached and churned.
This fight needed to stop! Someone was going to get seriously hurt.
Mustering my strength, I was able to locate Link and Two-Bits who were brawling in the middle of it. I grabbed a glass bottle of beer from one awe struck girl and headed towards them.
Those two were like lions clawing at each other. Blood trickled down their faces which did not help my nausea. Once I was close enough, I lifted the glass above my head and smashed it on the floor.
"STOP!" I screeched at the two boys.
They stopped. Actually, everyone stopped fighting.
The two boys glared at me with bewildered eyes and disdain evident in their demeanor.
"You guys are going to kill someon-"
I never got to finish that sentence.
Because I promptly spewed vomit all over the greaser and. . . and the most popular boy in school with the object of my affection not even two feet away.
Tears sprung to my eyes as I continued to throw up all the contents in my stomach. I heard some laughs and some shouts of disgust.
Then suddenly, people were screaming again and running like chaotic ants.
It was only after I finished vomiting on the carpet that I realized the fighting didn't stop because of me.
It was because the cops had arrived.