Feeling extremely out of breath, I pounded weakly on the Curtis brothers' door. I know that they always left it unlocked, so I could have just opened the door and crawled in, but I was in too much pain to open it up myself. Blood was dripping slowly from my lips, and it appeared thickly on my chin and around my teeth.
Steve answered the door. I was expecting for him to say something similar to, "Hey, kiddo. We missed you." After glimpsing at my physical condition, Steve was at a loss for words. He simply nodded, solemnly, and gently pushed me inside.
Two-Bit shouted without even giving me a glance, "Hey, she's here!" He paused, and everybody ran in. When they all saw how beat up my frail little body was, their faces went blank with despair.
"Geez, kid," Two-Bit started to say, "You look worse than hell." "That's where I just was," I wanted to say, but didn't. An eerie silence filled up the room.
Darry, with a worried face, ran into the kitchen and came back moments later with a cold, wet rag. I closed my eyes and felt him press it against my cheek. My lungs filled with too much air, and it was hard to get out any words. Flustered and teary-eyed, I tried to explain to Darry what had happened.
"D-D-Darry... I'm sorry. Oh, damnit me... Uh... I'm stupid. I'm so, so stupid... Darry. I-I-I didn't come straight here. I went to see my parents. They didn't even acknowledge me. They didn't even know I left. Those bastards didn't even have an idea those people took me away from Dally and put me in a girl's home. Almost seven months. Seven whole months! And they didn't even have a clue... Huh... I'm such a fool... Dally's going to kill me, he hates it when I talk about our folks, when I let those bastards get to me..."
My voice trailed off. There was obvious hurt in Darry's eyes. I don't think it was because I didn't listen to him on the way home, but because my parents had neglected me and beaten me.
I started feeling guilt, or maybe shame. Perhaps anger. Ponyboy must have sensed it, so he reassured me, "It's alright. It's alright. Don't get yourself too worked up over it."
I felt myself getting sick, but nobody noticed while Two-Bit was saying, "Yeah, Lil' Winston. We're couldn't be more relieved to have you back. Forget them - we're your real family, and we ain't going anywhere."
I couldn't hold in my self-disgust any more. I ran to the kitchen and threw up. Even though the gang tried to comfort me, telling me that my scrapes bruises weren't my fault, I hated myself for this. Hatred. That wasn't the word, but then again, no word could describe my feelings at that moment. Relief? No. Anguish? Maybe. I felt like something was missing, I felt empty. And I didn't know why, which made me feel even more hurt and sick to my stomach.
Darry softly touched my shoulder and helped me up. "Let's get you cleaned up, Lil' Lady," he said.
Sodapop turned on the water for me while Darry went to go get a towel.
"Sorry, Soda. For making' such a mess in your kitchen, I mean... I couldn't help myself. I'm just so s-scared. And I feel real horrible," I said, looking at Soda with sad eyes.
"You're safe with us, Dandy. Steve and I will skin anyone that tries to get near you. Okay?" He kissed my forehead as he left. It was Soda's way of letting me know that it would all be okay.
Darry came in with a clean blue towel and an oversized t-shirt. He had a funny look on his face, I couldn't quite pinpoint why.
"Here you go, chickadee. There weren't any clothes that would fit you, not even Pony's, so I guess you'll have to make do with my old shirt." I smiled at him, thankfully. "With no pants," he added with an apologetic smirk.
I giggled as I said, "Thanks, Daddy."
Darry's eyes twinkled as he said, "You know, chickadee, you started calling me Daddy as soon as you could talk."
"Mm-hmm. Because you're a much better Daddy than the one Dally was always telling me to stay away from."
Darry ran his fingers through my long, greasy hair. He went back to the kitchen, where everyone else was, leaving me to clean the blood off my body...
I scrubbed my skin and ran some soap through my hair. Then, I dried off. I pulled the t-shirt over my body, and, although my hair was still wet, I put it into a knotted braid. I hung the towel up by the window to dry and started back to the gang.
I sat down slowly on the rough-textured couch next to Darry, but he grabbed me and nudged me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me, like he used to do when I was much younger. Staring at me blankly, Two-Bit shoved a beer into my face and insisted that I glut myself with alcohol.
"Drink up, kid. You're gonna need it."
Confused, I refused the alcohol and took a few pills to get rid of the pain from my beating. I had suffered beatings that were much worse, so I had trouble comprehending why Two-Bit thought I needed a drink. The aspirins numbed the pain just fine, I didn't need anything else. I soon learned that he wasn't talking about drinking away the physical pain, but the emotional and mental pain that was soon to come.
"Dally won't let me drink," I said. "And you know that, Two-Bit..." I looked around and realized my brother wasn't even here. I must have been so lightheaded before that I wasn't able to fully register my surroundings and who all that was with me. "Wait. Where is Dally?" Dreadfully, I asked, "Did the fuzz get him again?"
Two-Bit, his face turning red, replied, "Oh, hell. Yeah, Dandy. They really got him this time." Steve smacked Two-Bit hard on the face. I could tell it must have hurt; because I heard the whip-crack noise that you usually only hear in cartoons - like when Mickey would have smacked Pete. That's what it sounded like. Why did Steve do that?
Tears started to fill my eyes, and my mind flooded with questions. "What if he's stuck in prison?" "What if he'll never get out?" "What if they aren't going to let him see me anymore?" My heart palpitations soon turned to headaches as I began asking the questions that were clogging my mind. The sound levels and pitches of my voice rose with each question that was asked.
"Shhh... Dandelion, you need to calm down. We have something very serious to discuss with you," Darry whispered in my ear.
Getting frustrated, I scoffed, "Never call me Dandelion. You know I hate that. Those heartless hippies that call themselves my parents, they named me Dandelion... Dally and I hate it... Call me Dandy. You know to call me Dandy." I didn't mean to be so aggressive, but I was in a vulnerable mood. It wasn't normal of me to get so mouthy with Darry. What was coming over me?
Darry apologized, "I'm sorry, chickadee. This is something very serious that we are going to talk about." He bit his lip.
I knew that whatever I was about to hear was going to be bad; otherwise it wouldn't be so hard to say. Hyperventilations and vague aches came all over my body.
Ponyboy, sitting quietly across the room in a plaid covered chair, opened his mouth to speak. "Dandy, I'm real sorry about all of this..."
Two-Bit played with my hair while Ponyboy spoke, and I still don't know if it was for his comfort or mine.
"A few months ago, probably two months, I'm guessing. Well, Johnny and I got into a fight with some Socs, and a Soc was killed. We knew Dally would know what to do, so we went to him for help, and he told us about an old church..." Ponyboy told the entire story of what had happened two months ago. His voice seemed to trail off except for whenever he mentioned Dally's name. When he started crying, I knew I should be focusing. That was hard for me, I always had to stay moving; my attention span wasn't very long. Just like Dally. It led us two into trouble sometimes.
Everyone around had tears coming down their faces, even Two-Bit, who was always smiling. I didn't understand what they were all saying. It couldn't be true. What they were saying was nonsense.
Johnny had died, weak in the hospital.
Dally had died, after raising his gun to the police. "That's what he wanted. He wanted to die," they all said.
It was true that he always got what he wanted, but this couldn't be. He couldn't have wanted this.
No.
No.
Not my brother. Not Dallas Winston. He was too strong, too brave, too...
I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be happening. I had already had such a rough life, and now, this... I refused to believe it, until I ran out of the house, sprinting solo for blocks and blocks, now running faster than any one of the gang, until I reached the cemetery. All the way in the back, close to the woods, was a single, undecorated grave with only three words on the headstone:
"Dallas Tucker Winston."
I couldn't believe it. No, it wasn't possible. He was all lonely, all by himself. He had always pushed away every man or woman that came into his way, and now he finally got what he wanted - Dallas was finally alone, and Dallas was dead. Is that really what he wanted? Sometimes people want strange things, you can't comprehend their needs and wants - you refuse to when you love them.
My head filled with all of the things that I overheard people in Tulsa say about Tulsa. "Watch out for Dallas Winston, he'll take away your innocence." "Damn greaser, stay away from that scum." "Dirty Dallas, he'll never amount to a thing except the record for most times in jail." "Dally Winston. He's a real nice guy if you get on his good side, but he doesn't love nobody. Nobody. Dally's bitter on the inside."
My head ached, and I tried to think about all of the good things people had said about him, but there were none that came to me. My brother, my beloved brother, Dallas Tucker Winston, was gone. Dallas Tucker Winston, who everyone falsely accused of being a hoodlum, though he was so much more than that seven-letter-word, was gone. My only family was gone.
I allowed myself enough energy to stand up, and I walked, slowly... slowly... slowly... Until I made it to Buck Merrill's place. Dally warned me to never go in there, he said I was too young, too innocent for that type of partying. But Dally was gone. He also told me never to drink. But Dally was gone. Dally wasn't there to tell me to stop. So I didn't stop. I drank... And drank... And drank...