A/N: Hey guys!
I'm honest-to-God so sorry for not updating earlier! :(
My excuse: As I said before on chapter 1 and 3, I wrote my story on my Ipad notes, so I knew I made a couple of mistakes in my other chapters (which I corrected), but I was about to copy-paste my text in this document when instead of pressing "copy", I pressed "cut", and I lost EVERYTHING in this chapter! I rewrote it once or twice but it didn't sound as perfect as before, so I was depressed!
Here are my answers to my reviews (which I highly appreciate):
Seth Clearwater: Dallas being Dallas...He's unpredictable! Read to find out what he does. ;)
FrankElza: Thank you! I was worried they didn't sound worried enough...I guess you proved me wrong! And no problem with the shout outs, you deserve it!
TheOrangeHokageOfTheLeaf: I would NEVER let Pony die! :o I love him too much to kill him! But...I CAN leave him wounded...read to find out! :P
Goldenthorns: Read to find out right now! ;)
guest ch3: Thank you!
Guest: Thank you!
Now, I found the time to post this chapter. As I said above, it isn't 100% as right as it was before...I DO hope that the wait was worth it! And thank you so much for the reviews! Now, R & R, and enjoy!
XxX
He had no idea how he did it, but when he looked up, he found himself standing in front of the police station, fists jammed in his pockets, scowling. The walk from the hospital to the station was a haze; he only remembered hoods glaring at him as he passed by. Their typical way to say hi. And he remembered glaring daggers back at them.
He made his way to the door and threw it open, slamming it shut behind him. He wanted to be heard, to show that he was there, and that he was pissed.
And heard he was.
The cops stopped whatever chit-chat they were doing and put down their coffee mugs to glare at the hood.
One stepped forward, and Dallas found himself face to face with the chief, Bruce. "Winston. What a surprise."
Another cop stood up. He was called Dodge since he owned a 1966 Dodge Rambler, and also because he was the fastest cop in the squad. "We were just about to haul you in. Guess we won't need to."
Dallas sneered. "You wouldn't have needed to, anyway. You know damn well that I have nothing to do with the murder."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "How else would've you known we were talking about that case?"
"You haul me in for every crime. How else wouldn't I?"
"Maybe you're right, but we suspect you've been involved, directly or not," Bruce declared.
"And what if I tell you no?"
"Then we'll have to find out, won't we?" Dallas glared at Bruce, but Bruce glared back, unfazed. He nodded at the remaining two cops, and they left the room. Bruce turned back at Dallas and gave him a chair to sit down. Dallas, of course, didn't comply.
"I didn't come here for a fucking interview," he snapped. "I came here to know who the fuck arrested Johnny!"
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "That would be Peter, the softie. Why, you gonna kill him?"
Dallas laughed bitterly. "Have a little faith in me, Bruce." Said cop rolled his eyes before the door opened. Dallas immediately glared at the sight he saw.
The two cops from earlier were back, each holding Johnny Cade's arms, the boy's hands cuffed in front of him. He was looking down, but Dallas could tell he had bags under his eyes and was paler than normal. Of course, having darker skin, it would be less noticeable, but Dallas Winston noticed everything about Johnny Cade, whom he cared for more than he himself thought.
"Johnny," he said, trying to sound gruff and uncaring, but his voice came out softer than intended. Johnny snapped his head up.
"Dally?" the boy croaked, sounding amazingly tired. Dally fought hard not to wince at how only a couple of hours in jail had drained the dark-skinned boy. He wouldn't want to see what years would do to him.
The cops sat Johnny down on a chair in front of Dallas', and the hood reluctantly sat down as well.
"Alright, we have a few questions," Bruce started."What happened the night of the murder?"
Johnny shook his head. "I-I don't wanna talk about it," he softly said.
Bruce sighed. Hoods always were hard to question, and most of time weren't honest. Peter had however told him about the Cade kid, claiming he and his friend Ponyboy weren't hoods. He gave Peter the day off to question Johnny Cade himself. "You're gonna have to toughen up, kid. Get you prepared for court. They're not gonna go half as easy with you as I am right now."
Johnny reluctantly launched himself in an explanation on how they found themselves at the park at two in the morning, leaving out the fact that they did so because Darry had hit Ponyboy. He also explained why the Socs had been mad at them. Simply put, he explained everything from the Drive In to his arrest.
"When arrested, you were searched and our police officer found a gun tucked in your waistband. Now we know that the murder weapon was a switchblade, also found in your back pocket with dried blood on it, obviously wiped. In what was the gun useful? Did Dallas give it to you? Be honest, boy."
Dallas was about to say yes when Johnny flat out denied it. "No, I took it from him the night before. Pony had been walking by his lonesome and had been jumped by Socs—not the same group—and I was afraid that the same would happen to me, as it had months before. I wanted defense and it was the only way I could think of. So I hung out with Dally after having helped Ponyboy and I took his gun without him noticing. It ain't loaded anyway; it was just to bluff."
Dallas glared at him while the cop looked at him, unimpressed. "How come didn't you use the gun to get them to let go of your friend, instead of stabbing the Sheldon kid?"
Now Johnny glared at Bruce, and it was the first glare that Dallas had ever seen. "Alcohol gives one false courage, or didn't you learn that before? Eventually they would've guessed I was only bluffing, and they would've drowned Pony, and then would've beaten me up. Plus, I didn't think about the gun at the time; I acted on impulse, and I took out my switchblade and stabbed him. I-I never meant to, he was drowning Pony and..."
"So you killed him out of self-defense?" Bruce interrupted. Johnny was about to talk but Bruce interrupted him again. "Or did you kill him to get revenge on the jumping you had months before? Face it, son; the court could see it as revenge and you'll get the electric chair without a doubt."
Dallas jumped up and grabbed Bruce by the collar. "You son-of-a-bitch! Johnny ain't like that and never will be! Are you trying to help him or fuck with his mind?!"
The two cops pulled the tow-headed hood back to his chair and cuffed one hand to it. They all knew it wouldn't stop him, but still, Dallas stayed still, growling like a guard dog on duty.
Bruce readjusted his collar and glared at Dallas. "Alright then, last question, and if we gotta bring the truth device in then we will. What really happened the night of the murder?" He looked at Johnny once again.
Johnny fumed and stood up. The two cops walked in front of him, preventing him from taking one step toward Bruce, but he didn't move, just glared. "I already told you! He was drowning my best friend and I goddamn killed him! If it would've been the opposite, you wouldn't even be asking him the same questions over and over, you'd probably thank him for getting rid of another greaser and then his parents would bail him out!"
"Don't you realise how wrong you are? The hoods aren't the menace to society, the Socs are! They jump greasers and have bash parties and commit crimes and get away with it! We can't even walk down the street without being looked at wrong! Just because of what? Our clothes? The fact that some of us steal in order to survive? Money? Well, money doesn't rule the world and it never should!"
Johnny breathed heavily before quietly sitting back down. The dark-skinned boy had never talked much, and now he had shouted a speech. He shouted what he had locked into his heart and mind for so long.
Dallas was glad that the kid has screamed to the cops how unfair the world was for greasers and hoods, but at the same time he was shocked. Johnny Cade was becoming like him; gruff, cold and bitter, hating the whole word.
And that scared the almighty hell out of Dallas Winston.
XxX
Sodapop's knee was bouncing up and down at a rather fast pace, resulting in Darry and Steve glancing at him every five seconds or so.
"Soda, stop that, you're making me nervous," Darry softly said, chuckling half-heartedly to lighten the mood, in vain. Sodapop stopped for about a minute before starting again.
It had been three long hours of wait. It was now ten thirty in the evening and no one in the gang had moved much except Two-Bit, who had gotten the gang something to eat, and Darry, who had to sign paperwork for Ponyboy.
"Soda," Darry gently scolded, "you haven't eaten an ounce of food since last night. Try to at least taste your muffin." Sodapop glanced at him and nodded, fumbling with the paper wrap on his chocolate chip muffin and munching on the base. "And stop it with that jumping knee, you're making us crazy." Sodapop glared but it wasn't near as threatening as normal. He just looked tired. Still, he did as Darry told him to do, not feeling up for an argument.
"Darrel Curtis?"
The doctor's voice snapped both Darry and Sodapop's heads up, and they stood up, facing the man in white. Two-bit and Steve stood up behind them, keeping a reasonable distance.
"Doctor Carl Ross, doctor in charge of Ponyboy's surgery."
Darry shook his hand. "Darrel Curtis, Ponyboy's oldest brother and legal guardian." Ross smiled warmly and looked at Sodapop. "You must be the middle brother, Sodapop. Ponyboy strikingly looks like you."
Sodapop smiled, although half-heartedly. "Is he okay?" Darry frowned at him, wordlessly telling him to mind his manners. However, he couldn't blame Sodapop; if Sodapop hadn't asked the question, then he would've.
Ross nodded and smiled, much to the boys' relief. "He's doing relatively well. He has a cut on his back which was deep enough to stitch but nothing dangerous. The cause is still unknown; he could've done that while falling in the hole for all I know."
"Hole?" Soda asked, concerned. It already didn't sound good to him.
Ross nodded. "Yes, I talked to a firefighter and he stated that Ponyboy had fallen down in a hole deep enough so he couldn't reach his way out. A wooden hatch had blocked the hole and wooden beams had pinned it, in a way protecting him from the rest of the beams when the church caved in, but otherwise trapping him deeply under the mess."
Sodapop paled upon hearing this. It almost sounded like Ponyboy had been buried alive, which he knew was one of the boy's biggest fears. He swore under his breath, wishing he could've been there to protect his younger brother.
"When he fell down, he broke his knee, so he wasn't able to get up anyhow. His leg is covered in a cast and will be for two months, if not three, depending on how quickly he recovers."
"He has inhaled some smoke but it's nothing severe. We plugged him on the ventilator but while unconscious he proved it useless. The last thing is his arm. He has a cast on his arm from a beam falling down on it, causing the break. He will have to keep the cast on for a month and a half, and he will have to come here for a weekly check-up to look it up and see how fast his arm heals."
Darry sighed. "Thank you so much, Doctor Ross." Ross smiled. He led the group down to Ponyboy's room, but then turned to look at Two-Bit and Steve, who hadn't said a word since the doctor came.
"Now, I would only allow immediate family, but I have a feeling I can trust you boys. Can I?" Two-Bit solemnly nodded while Steve smiled an honest smile, something he only did to Sodapop and his girlfriend, Evie.
Ross opened the door to reveal a small boy in a too big hospital bed. His leg was propped up and so was his arm, both trapped in big blue casts. His eyes were closed and he was breathing lightly.
Doctor Ross watched with interest as Darry and Sodapop sat down on each side of the bed and took the boy's hands. For his left hand, Sodapop held his fingers while Darry clutched the right hand tightly in his. The brothers were strikingly close and had a very tight bond; Ross could feel their love for their baby brother radiate in the room and plainly show on their faces. The Curtis brothers certainly were an interesting bunch.
He was so focused on his thoughts that when he heard the bed creaking slightly, he was snapped out of his thoughts and he looked over. Ponyboy was twitching and Darry could feel his hand being clutched back, probably for familiarity.
Ponyboy's eyelids felt heavy, as if he had rocks keeping them closed, but with the encouragement of his brothers, he managed to open those precious greenish-gray eyes of his. Sodapop smiled at him, radiating even more love than possible. Just as he was about to greet Ponyboy, said boy interrupted him.
"Who are you?"