She's lying. She's got to be lying. That's all I thought when Mama spat those horrid words at us. I expected Daddy to snap at her and inform her that I was just as much his child as I was hers. Besides, she was lying…wasn't she? But Daddy did no such thing. He just looked to me with a pain in his eyes. Suddenly, I realized that it could very well be true. But how?
Mama looked cautiously from Daddy's forlorn face to mine, which was still trying to decide whether it was angry or confused.
"Oh God," Mama gasped. "You didn't tell her, did you?" But I didn't need to be told. Daddy's expression said enough.
"Rosie, I was going to tell you but-"
Without giving him a chance to explain, I pushed them both out of my way and ran out the door, slamming it hard behind me. By the time Daddy had opened the door to go after me, I was already half way down the sparsely lit road, my heart pounding in my ears.
"Rosie! Rosie Curtis!" Daddy's voice echoed down the road.
"You have no right to call me Rosie Curtis." I murmured bitterly as I went on running. I don't know how long I ran for but I ran pretty far. I was right near the South side when I came to a halt, my breath staggering and my 10 year old legs aching. I collapsed from my feet under a tree, running my fingers through the dew kissed grass. I hadn't really given Daddy a chance to explain, had I? But what difference did it make? One way or another, he still wasn't my father. It felt strange to think that. Daddy was nothing but a stranger. All these years and all those lies. Well, I suppose he never actually lied. He never came out and assured me that he was my biological father. It was more of an understanding.
But how could he be a stranger to me after he raised me and cared for me, all those years? How could he be a stranger when he was my daddy? This was the point when I began to stop trusting people.
And how dare Mama come back and demand me from Daddy! The nerve of that woman, I really wished I had said something to her. Anything. But no, I just stood there, like a fool, and blinked at her. I hate you, Mama. They were four simple words, why couldn't I say them? I was stunned. That's why.
It wasn't until I shivered from the wet grass and the night air that I realized I was still in my pajamas. Red and black checkered pajama pants and one of Ponyboy's old shirts. Ponyboy. I thought of him with his sparkling eyes and his voice saying, "You're a good kid.". Ponyboy was the only person I hated to disappoint more than Daddy. But hadn't Ponyboy lied to me too? He'd never hinted or inferred that I wasn't Daddy's child. He betrayed me. Betrayed. That's how I felt right then, sitting alone in the dark. Everyone I'd ever known, knew the one thing I didn't and they made me believe they were someone they weren't.
Because, if Daddy wasn't my real daddy, then Ponyboy wasn't my real uncle. And if Ponyboy wasn't my real uncle, that meant neither was Uncle Darry. So, if those people weren't my real family…who was?
Outrageous situations come with stupid decisions. And I can tell you that I sure wasn't using my head when I set out to find Dallas Winston. I really had no clue why I wanted to talk to him about it. He wasn't the type of person you could talk to seriously, nor was he sympathetic. But, that night, I don't think I wanted sympathy. I just wanted an explanation. It was around 11:30 on a Friday night. Any fool would know exactly where Dally was, even a 10 year old girl like myself.
Drag races, Dally loved them. And that's how I just knew he'd be one in the crowd at the annual Friday night drag race on that long road downtown, Munich street. Unlike the existent Munich conference in 1938, this road wasn't linked to that meeting in any way.
At the start of Munich street, two cars were halted with their engines roaring over the shouting, obnoxious teenagers. Dally stood out like a yellow flag, his blond head of hair peeking above the others. Unlike Daddy who, like his hair grease, had traded drag racing in to be a father, Dally had not matured. He was 27 and was carrying on as if he was 17. Since I'd known him, he'd been married twice, both of them failing. I don't know why any woman would fancy Dallas. He might have been slightly handsome but his interior was cruel.
As I approached the rowdy mob, I started to tremble, a certain shyness and fear came over me. It was a imprudent decision, I had made it in the heat of the moment. The blaring music, the drunken voices, the smell of smoke and beer; it was all worldly and it stared at me right in the face. This idea started to seem very bad.
"Just turn back, Rosie. This is stupid, you don't know any of these guys except Dally. And then again, do you really know him?" I chided myself as I inched toward the crowd. Before I knew it, I was right beside them. Some glanced at me and smiled as other scowled. With my stomach flopping around, I took an immersed breath and dove into the mob, shyly weaving my way through the teenagers who towered over me. I gagged on the smell of smoke and cheap leather but finally located Dally. I grasped onto his arm and gave a firm tug. "Dally?"