Chapter 2 – "You're in My Seat"
Ponyboy dragged himself up the stairs to the small apartment on the school grounds he shared with his two brothers. Man, was he beat! The coach had worked them hard tonight - not just running, but a bunch of power- and flexibility exercises as well.
He barely made it past the doorstep before something came flying at him, hitting him in the chest and knocking him onto his back.
Ponyboy was startled but not exactly surprised. When home before him, his older brother, Sodapop, liked to lie in wait and pounce on him when he came in through the door. Ponyboy just cursed himself for forgetting this and not being prepared.
"Soda," Pony moaned, looking up at the seventeen-year-old sitting on his chest, grinning down at him like the Cheshire Cat. "I'm real sore! Coach was mean today."
"Don't be such a wimp," laughed Sodapop, keeping Ponyboy pinned to the ground by his wrists.
"Gerroff me," barked Ponyboy and tried to throw off his brother by twisting and bucking.
Sodapop just looked like Christmas had come early and made himself more comfortable on his little brother's chest.
Darry emerged from the small kitchen and observed them with a very grumpy look on his face. "Soda, get off him. I ain't in the mood for any whining right now."
Darry didn't really mean to hiss at them but he was just so tired. He had been teaching all day and then practice with the football team. Some of the rich spoiled kids, who believed they could do whatever they wanted, had given him a hard time. He wished he could just chuck them off the team, but if he did that, their parents would probably go to the school board and he would end up with more trouble.
"Pony, get started on your homework right now. You're short of time since you're home so late."
Going to school at a top educational institution like Windrix Hall was a once in a life opportunity for his brothers, so be damned if Darry wasn't going to make sure they got the best out of it. Especially Ponyboy. Darry knew Sodapop did not have academic ambitions or the abilities of his youngest brother.
Sodapop sighed as he climbed off Pony and got up.
"You're talking like I've been out doing nothing useful," said Ponyboy, getting to his feet, and sent his oldest brother a sulky look. "I had track practice - you know that."
"Yeah, well, if you played football like I wanted you to, then you'd have been off early," Darry snapped and went back into the kitchen.
He opened the fridge to find whatever food he could and sighed when he realized that they had forgotten to go shopping.
"Soda! Pony! One of you get your ass down to the kitchens and see if you can buy something for dinner. Since no one bothered to go shopping, we gotta beg Mrs. Harris to let us buy from the kitchens. Again…"
"You want me to go?" Sodapop asked Ponyboy, his hand already on the doorknob.
"Let's both go..."
Pony didn't feel like being alone with Darry right now when he was in one of his moods. Why did he always have to be on his back about not playing football? It was never 'Wow, Pony, that was real well done,' when he won a race. It was 'That speed is wasted on the track. It could be put to much better use on the football field.'
He moodily kicked a small rock as he and Soda walked across the courtyard toward the main building. Darry never bothered Soda about playing football. He said it was because Soda didn't have a talent for it, like Pony did, but Pony had a feeling Darry wouldn't bug him about it even if he had had the talent. He let Sodapop do whatever he wanted.
And Sodapop wanted to ride horses. He was crazy about horses - always had been. So he was on the school equestrian team, and Darry thought that was just fine - even though their parents had actually forbidden Soda to ride after a bad accident. A small part of Ponyboy had been relieved when they did, because he too was scared that Soda might get himself killed one day, riding like a madman the way he did. Not that Ponyboy would ever want to keep Soda away from the horses that he loved so much; he just wished he would be more careful.
Sodapop, as he so often did, seemed to know what Pony was thinking about. "It ain't that he ain't proud of ya for what you do on the track," he said, slinging an arm around Ponyboy's shoulder. "He just really wishes you'd play football, because that's his sport and he'd love to show off his prodigy little brother to the world."
Ponyboy just huffed. Sodapop was an excellent judge of character, but even he didn't know everything.
o0o0o
It was busy in the kitchens since dinner was almost ready to be served. Students had begun filing in and sitting down at the tables as Soda and Ponyboy snuck in through the back door.
Mrs. Harris, the head of the kitchens, was ordering people around like she was a colonel of an army.
"Keith!" she scolded. "There's too much salt in this!"
A red-haired young man turned to face her with a grin. "It's corn, right? They can heat 'em over the candles and they got popcorn! I just think ahead. And call me Two-Bit!"
"You will be in two bits if you don't fix it, mister!"
She turned around as the back door opened and her face split into a broad grin when she spotted Pony and Soda.
"Hello, sugar pies. What brings you to my kitchen?"
"Howdy, ma'am," said Sodapop and flashed her his sweetest smile. "We were wondering if ya could help out a couple of poor starving country boys."
Ponyboy laughed to himself. Coming from the slums of Tulsa, they were no more country boys than Mrs. Harris was, but here most people seemed to think that everybody from south of D.C. were farmers.
Mrs. Harris eyed Sodapop, tilting her head and planting her hands on her hips. "Did your brother forget to feed you poor babies? Or did you two forget to go shopping again?"
Sodapop looked as innocent as he possibly could and Mrs. Harris shook her head.
"It's a good thing you come to me, then. If I didn't work here you boys would starve to death."
"No, no, Shirley. I'd cook for 'em," said Two-Bit and stuck a cigarette in between his lips.
"Like I said - you boys would starve to death if I didn't work here," Mrs. Harris said and snatched the cigarette away from her assistant. "How many times do I have to tell you cigarettes are banned from my kitchen? And it's Mrs. Harris to you, mister!"
Then she went to the fridge, found some leftovers from the day before, and handed them to Sodapop.
"Here you go, sugar," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now be sure to let your big brother prepare that. I don't want it ruined by your cooking. And I don't want you to kill your sweet little brother here, either."
"I'm a terrific cook," protested Sodapop. "I've no idea who told you I wasn't," he said and looked intently at Ponyboy. "I'm just creative. It's like some of them painters who weren't appreciated in their own time but became real famous later, when people got their eyes open for their talent. Like that guy, Van Dough, or something."
"Van Gogh," Ponyboy corrected.
"Exactly! I'm the Van Gogh of cooking."
"And I'm sure it looks like his work, too. Messy and with a lot of colors," Mrs. Harris commented.
o0o0o
Johnny walked through the doors to the dining hall and stopped for a second, trying to get an overview of the room. It looked like a ballroom, he thought, with its shiny tile floor and raised ceiling. There were tables standing in long straight lines, and along the far wall food was being carried in and arranged.
Johnny spotted his roommates at one of the tables, but even though Tyler waved at him, Johnny decided to go sit by himself. Mostly because Harry and Victor seemed not to like him very much.
o0o0o
Dallas Winston came strolling into the dining hall once the other students had started eating. He couldn't be bothered showing up on time. Why should he sit and wait for the food? The food could wait for him.
He stopped abruptly, surprised to find someone sitting in his usual seat. Who was dumb enough to do that? There were no assigned seating arrangements, but everybody knew where Dallas liked to sit and anyone who didn't have a death wish stayed clear of that seat.
He walked up behind the kid, planted a hand on each of his shoulders, and growled in a low voice, "You're in my seat."
Johnny's face went white and he could feel the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"I... I'm s-sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't know. I just... t-transferred..."
He slowly turned his head to look at the teen behind him and gulped. This guy looked dangerous. He had a sharply angled face and icy blue eyes with a mean glint. He looked like he wouldn't hesitate breaking Johnny in two.
"I... I'll just move," said Johnny and quickly got up.
Dallas glared at the small, scrawny boy. From the way he looked, there was no doubt he was speaking the truth about not knowing that he had sat in the wrong seat. Dallas couldn't decide if he was satisfied with the look of horror on the kid's face, or if he was, in fact, disappointed that he hadn't been cheeky and given him an excuse to beat him up.
"Don't forget your food," he said and swiped Johnny's plate off the table so that it crashed near his feet, mashed potatoes and gravy splattering up on Johnny's shoes and pants.
The whole room went silent at the sound of the shattering plate and everybody stared at Dallas and Johnny.
Johnny took a step back as he looked up at the tall blonde. He could feel sweat starting to break out on his forehead, and took a deep shaking breath, trying to steady his nerves.
Dallas just smirked with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"What's this noise?" Mrs. Harris demanded, as she came marching out from the kitchens. "Dallas Winston! Are you causing trouble again?" she asked, spotting the food on the floor.
Dallas was the biggest troublemaker in the school, so Mrs. Harris knew he was the reason for the scene.
Dallas looked at the plump black woman standing in front of him with her hands planted on her hips.
"Kid had slippery hands. It ain't my fault," he grinned.
She looked at Johnny. "Is that true?"
Johnny gulped and nodded. "Ye-yes ma'am," he said. "It's my fault."
Mrs. Harris sighed. "Come with me, sugar. Let's get you cleaned up. Keith – please wipe up this mess."
Two-Bit fetched some paper towels and a bucket of water, and kneeled to start cleaning up.
Dally looked down at him. "This must be the best job you ever had, Mathews. Beats shoplifting, doesn't it? Or are you just itching to go back to your old occupation?"
"Yeah, well… At least I work for a living instead of sponging on my parents."
Dallas stepped a little closer with an angry look on his face. "I could knock out all your teeth with just one kick when you're sittin' like that," he growled and tapped his toes on the floor as if he was considering doing it. "It ain't even a real job is it? I heard you're doing community service."
"Oh? I see it as clearing up someone's mess. And I ain't talking about my own. Or the small kid's. But - I would suspect something like that from you. Kicking me while I'm down. That's what ya do ain't it?"
Two-Bit got up and looked at Dallas. He didn't want to let him know that his words had gotten to him. Two-Bit had a few months earlier been caught shoplifting at a small store, but luckily they had only given him community service and not jail time. He wasn't very proud of it. Well, not the shoplifting part. More the getting caught part.
o0o0o
Mrs. Harris sat Johnny down and handed him a piece of cloth so he could clean his shoes and pants.
"What's your name, sugar?"
"J-Johnny..."
"Well, Johnny - you best be staying away from Dallas Winston. He's bad news. That kid hates the world and everyone in it."
Johnny looked up at her. He had already more than made up his mind to let that guy alone. "I… actually considered going out and beating him up… but now you tell me to stay away I guess I better..." he said as an attempt of being funny.
Mrs. Harris laughed. "I like you. You're a sweetheart."
o0o0o
Dally clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep calm. It was probably a bad idea to start beating the shit out of Kitchen Boy in the middle of the dining hall with everybody watching. Even if he could get away with almost anything without serious consequences. Oh, they punished him, all right - he spent most days after school in detention - but they didn't expel him no matter what he did. Dally's father was incredibly rich and made very large donations to the school, so throwing Dally out wasn't really an option.
"Just watch your back, Mathews," he growled before moving over to get some food.
A/N: Remember to check out the illustration for the chapter (link on my profile).