Hello, lovelies! Cat here again, finallywith another update! Sorry it's a little later than expected, but I've been busy helping my mom prepare for a wedding that she's catering. However, i'm back on track and have the next week, hopefully, free to write. This chapter is probably pretty low quality to be honest, but, hey, I tried! A later detail (Johnny related) is briefly hinted to in the novel and non-verballyin the movie, you'll probably catch it when you get there. Thank you for reading, whether it's your first time, or you've been keeping on updates for awhile. It means the universe to me. Really.
-Enjoy! Love, Cat
After spending the afternoon with the gang, mostly learning about them, Diane headed home. She realized, after visiting the Curtis house, that there was a much faster route to the park than she had been taking, and left a mental note. When she got back, she was alone, besides her mother, once again at the kitchen table.
"Hi, mom. Where's everyone?" She asked curiously.
"Spending time with their families, unlike yourself." Her mother replied with an icy tone that was unfamiliar to the teen.
She stepped back. "What do you mean? I was only gone, what, four hours?"
"Doing what? Hanging out with that hoodlum boy from last night? Becoming a no-good gang member? I should hope not." Mrs. Carter retorted, getting up from her chair.
"I'm not doing anything bad! I promise! I mean, you've always told me I'm not social enough. I'll spend all tomorrow with you! You don't have to get on my case-"
"I'm not 'getting on your case' young lady!" She interrupted. "And you are most certainly going to be staying at home with me tomorrow, and every Sunday until you're eighteen. Sunday is a day for family and I know my par-"
It was Diane's turn to interrupt. "Stop bringing your parents into everything! Just stop!"She yelled, getting frustrated. "I'm sick of you using your upbringing to justify keeping me around and in line like a little kid! Why do you always yell at me for doing my own thing? For wanting to explore who I am and not be a stiff, bland person without a personality! This isn't 1920 you know!"
"I know that! Don't you think that I'm painfully aware that it's not like when I was growing up?" Mrs. Curtis' voice raised in both pitch and volume. "I was born at the tail end of the first and lived through the second great war, never knowing if I was going to live or die, if we were going to be bombed or not. I had so many friends whose husbands and brothers died in combat due to their childish recklessness, and I vowed to never let my children ever make any bad decisions!"
"So you're saying I'll die if I be, I don't know, interesting?"
"I'm not saying that!" Diane could tell that her mother was about to reach a breaking point, but she didn't care.
"Then what are you saying?"
"I don't know! I'm scared-"
"Of what? That I'll be a hoodlum one day, or marry one? That I'll be like dad? "
There was a heavily pregnant pause. Mrs. Curtis seemed at a loss for words, her expression unreadable.
"Go to your room." She finally said, quiet, though firm.
"No." Diane said, using a similar tone.
Mrs. Curtis narrowed her eyes. "What did you say, young lady?"
"I said no." She stated.
"I said go to your room. You're grounded."
Diane stubbornly shook her head. "I don't want to. I'm almost seventeen, you can't just ground me."
"Oh yes I can." Mrs. Carter retorted. "I'll make you go to your room, and you'll stay there. This may be your cousin's home, but I'm still your mother."
"I'll just sneak out anyways. I've got hoodlum friends that I can ask to help me, too."
"Absolutely not. You will not be talking to those friends to get them to help you anyways."
"I'm going to school on Monday. You can't stop me from talking to my friends at school, can you?" She challenged.
"No, I can't but-" Mrs. Carter paused. "Just go. Go outside. I don't care if it's to your hood friend's houses, or the park, or anything. I don't want to see you for awhile, alright. I need some time to cool down." She said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I thought you wanted me to spend time with you." She reminded her.
"I want you to get out, just for an hour or two. If there's anything I want right now, it's that. I don't want your cousins to see us like this. Clara and Peter have enough on their plate with another baby on the way, and yes, I know you know, but they don't need the extra stress. It's hard enough to put food on five plates for them, and if Clara's eating for two, it's a big enough burden. Just letting us stay with them until I get a job and apartment for us is a miracle itself. Sometimes… I wonder if leaving was a mistake. If we should've just stayed. But that's not important now. Please, Diane, it's for the sake of both our sanities, please leave."
Diane huffed, but obeyed. With little else to do, she walked back towards what Two-Bit had earlier pointed out to be the lot. He said something along the lines of it being a good place to cool off at. As she made her way there, she processed the argument. It was only a few minutes, but felt like an eternity. Back home, even after her father's funeral, her mother never was that angry with her. Sure, they had their spats, but nothing serious came from it.
For a moment, she wondered if everything was her fault, even leading to her mother's past miscarriage. Anxiety grasped at her throat, making it hard to breathe. Perhaps any of it was. If she had never been born, her mother may not have lost her second child. She was always told that she caused a lot of stress on her mother during her pregnancy. She was a handful afterwards, too. Perhaps with all that stress, it caused her to lose it… Diane took a deep breath. She needed to think rationally. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't control those things.
She sank down against an old backseat of a car, thrown haphazardly into the lot, long forgotten and moth-eaten. The sun was still relatively high in the sky, though it was sinking fast. She put her head in her hands, cursing under her breath. Her temper was getting out of control. All she wanted to do was pick up the broken pieces of her relationship with her mother. After a few minutes, she felt the seat sink a little to her left. She looked up.
"Hey, Johnny." She muttered. "How's it going?"
He shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. Why're you crying?"
Diane rubbed her face with the back of her hand. She didn't even realize that she was crying. "I, uh, kinda made my mom real mad at me." She quietly explained.
He let out a half hearted laugh. "Welcome to my world."
She raised an eyebrow. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.
"So they didn't explain it to you?" He inquired.
She shook her head 'no' in response.
"My, uh, my parents don't exactly like me. My dad beats on me a lot, so does my mom. I don't wanna seem like a charity case, though." He said. "So don't treat me differently, please? I know the gang tries not to, but I can tell that they do."
"No, no." She quickly replied. "I won't treat you any different. Promise."
The dark haired boy cracked a smile. "Thanks." He said softly. Changing the subject after a pause, he pulled out a bottle, wrapped in a paper bag. "Two gave this to me. I dunno how he can always nick as much liquor as he does. I don't drink that often, but you look like you might need a pick-me-up."
Diane's eyebrows raised high on her forehead. Of all members of the gang, Johnny Cade seemed the least likely to drink alcohol, besides Ponyboy. "Me? Wait, you?"
"Oh, you're real new here. Most boys around here drink every once in awhile. Usually it's beer, though. Dallas and Two are really the only ones who get anything else."
She took the bottle cautiously, trying to peek at the label. She didn't know the first thing about drinking, except from what she saw in the movies and television, and what kids told tall tales about at school. The only word she could clearly make out was whiskey. She hesitated, wondering what would happen if she took the first fateful sip. If it could be smelled on her breath, she'd be dead by her mother's wrath. However, that wrath is what brought her there, so she unscrewed the cap and took a swig.
She coughed at the burning sensation it gave her throat. Wiping her lips, she handed the bag back to Johnny, who was cracking up with laughter. She narrowed her eyebrows once she could breathe.
"Hey, I've never drank before, let alone whiskey. What's the alcohol content on that, forty percent?" Diane sputtered.
It took the boy a few moments to calm himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Your face though… It was priceless!" He apologized. Pulling the bottle a bit from the bag, he checked. "Forty six, actually. What do you know about percent though? You said yourself that you've never drank before."
"Basic chemistry." She explained. "I go though my textbooks beforehand to get ahead."
He shrugged. "I'm not real into academics."
She bit her lip. "Fair enough. God, do I smell like liquor?" She asked, beginning to panic a little.
Johnny awkwardly sniffed her. "Nah. Your breath might, though. Dunno how to help you with that. Maybe eat a mint?"
She sighed. "I'll stop at the DX or something, I've got some spare change I think. I'll find something. I am feeling a little better, though. At least you tried."
He grinned a little. "Any time."
Diane stood up, steadying herself when she found that she was a little light headed, both from the liquor and her spent emotions. A quick shake of her head cleared it a little. Awkwardly, she stood for a moment, looking at the boy, still sitting. "You have somewhere to go?" She asked. "It might get chilly tonight, and I don't assume you're going home." She said, noticing a fresh-looking bruise growing on his cheek.
"I've got the Curtis' house, or Two's. I'm used to it, though." He said. Diane didn't know what he meant by it- the beatings or the cold. She assumed it was both. Politely, she waved goodbye.
"Thanks again. I'll probably be seeing you Monday."
He waved in return.
Calmly, she left the lot, in search of solace.
