Thanks for the great reviews!
Let's fast forward, shall we? Seven years later, its 1975. I was 10 years old. I had gotten used to my new style of life, my new home. Not a care, not a worry, it seemed to me. Daddy tried to shield me from being corrupted but the moment I met Dallas Winston, that goal was partially ruined. Like I mentioned before, I did not like him, he was loud, boisterous and reeked of alcohol. And he, in return, saw me as a way to make extra cash when Daddy asked him to baby-sit me. Dally would demand a charge.
"What is this worth to you?" he'd tease Daddy.
"C'mon, Dal. It's just a couple hours. You know I don't have money to just toss around!"
"I know. Listen, I aint asking for much." And that is how I became a tool for Dallas. As time went by, he discovered a new way to take advantage of me. Once I turned 8, he'd take me to the bars and flash me around to all the girls. Naturally, they'd ooooh and awwww and play with my pig tailed hair and hang off of Dally like leeches. I suppose girls are attracted to guys who like children. After Mama left, I often wondered if the only reason she stayed with Daddy as long as she did, was because he was just someone to take care of her child. Was she planning to leave us from the very start?
The spontaneous trips to the bar with Dally all came to a halt, the day Daddy gave me a hug and got a whiff of my hair, there was a scent he didn't like.
"Why does Rosie's hair smell like beer?" Daddy had asked, he was calm but voice was strong and intimidating. Dallas took one glance at Daddy and shrugged.
"Dally, where you drinking this afternoon around Rosie?"
"No."
"I don't believe you."
"Fine by me. I couldn't give two shits if you believe me or not." Dally shot back, he was being defensive. It indirectly confirmed that he was hiding something. Dally's foul vocabulary was another reason why I wasn't fond of him.
"Rosie, was Dally drinking?" my father then turned to me. I peered at him, in his wary chocolate eyes, I fought back the urge to smirk. My daddy was a handsome man, he was tall and slender with dark golden hair that he slicked back. Over time, he got rid of the greased back look. I suppose he didn't need it anymore. He was a man, not a free-spirited youth. But to me, Daddy was always a greaser.
I couldn't stare at him for long without a smile creeping across my face. From behind him, Dally rest his index finger over his lips as if to heed me to keep the secret.
"No, Daddy." I answered in my child-like voice. "Dally wasn't drinking.". That wasn't a lie. Dally hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the whole time we were there. He was too busy swooning ladies who were swarmed around us, repetitively commenting on what a 'doll of a child' I was. "But," I added softly, feeling my petite body tense up. Daddy eyed me suspiciously, he didn't expect me to add more. "He took me to a bar."
"You what?" Daddy exclaimed, swirling around to face Dallas, who now had a sinister grin. "What are you smiling about? She's only eight!" he scolded, taking a stride towards him. I was ordered to my room and I went obediently.
Now, you must be bored stiff, my past wasn't exactly a desirable one. Neither was my child hood but I made the best of it. Now, lets start the story, which is hardly a fairy tale, I must warn you.
I stormed up the steps to my home of seven battered years, my school books propped upon my back, resting in my satchel. My heart leapt at the sight of a red Ford out in the driveway. My Ponyboy was home. Him being the youngest of Daddy's gang, we tended to flock together. Yes, he was my uncle but he was my best friend. My only friend. It didn't matter that he was 14 years older than me. I've never known the reason behind it, I just wasn't likable by people my own age. They'd cower away from me, the rumours about my Mama started the first day of school. Soon, the rumours were forgotten but the memory of the morning we found her gone would be singed into my memory for eternity.
I closed the door behind me and tossed my satchel to the couch. Ponyboy was bent over the table, furrowing his brow into a letter. He didn't look up from his letter and by reading his face, I knew what it was. A rejection letter. As I was 10, Ponyboy had just turned 24. A young man applying for a college. Uncle Darry, Daddy and I would console him as he got rejection after rejection. I never understood why, he was smart, any fool could see that.
"Ponyboy?" I asked softly, taking socked footsteps in his direction.
"Not now, Rosie." his voice quivered as he looked up at me, his eyes pained and the substance of tears gathering in his forever sparkling eyes. They sparkled no matter his mood.
Ignoring his resistance, I slowly wrapped my arms around his waste and told him he would be accepted in just a matter of time.
"You're smart. Smarter than me." I giggled lightly and he put a warm arm around my shoulder.
"You're a good kid." he sighed in a warmer tone and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Good kid. I felt proud of myself. If I look back on this, it's quite comical that I haven't a clue what's going on and who everyone really is. But you wait and see, its just a matter of moment before everything is smashed to pieces and an invitation is sent for the devil to come and dance upon the shattered pieces that lay scattered.
