Jo

Did I honestly not know she was blonde? Weirdly, that's what went through my mind at the Nightly Double as it became obvious who this was and why Kathy was acting like she was a magician producing a particularly freaky white rabbit from her hat.

I'd revised my opinion of Kathy. I didn't just think she was a lousy girlfriend, I thought she was a lousy person. I ain't a hypocrite, I can gossip with the best of them, but Kathy seemed to enjoy other people's misery. I wouldn't have put it past her to have dragged Sandy over to us.

Although...nah. No dragging required. Someone else was an expert at stirring up shit and that someone was a hell of a lot blonder than I'd imagined.

I tried not to let that bother me. It was coincidence, was all. The fact that I'd grown up envying Valerie her golden curls was nothing to do with the fact that I disliked Sandy. I knew exactly why I disliked Sandy and she could have been bald as a coot with feathers in her ears and it wouldn't have made any difference.

I listened to her try to engage Soda in conversation.

I heard him shoot her down.

I felt his arm around me tighten just enough that I couldn't be sure he knew he'd done it.

We'd been having so much fun. The movie was incidental. We'd been in and out of the Chevy and Two-Bit's car and when Steve and Two-Bit started horsing around, Soda had picked me up and stuck me out of the way, on the hood of the Plymouth. He ducked out of the wrestling match, or whatever it was, and joined me.

I felt, when I leaned back against him and he wrapped an arm around me, that if anyone looked over this way, they would know that we were solid; we were as obviously together as a couple could be.

And then Sandy turned up.

Of course I'd never seen a picture of her and it turned out I must never have asked anyone what she looked like. She didn't really look like Valerie. Val would never have worn her hair loose like that. It didn't even seem like Sandy had used hairspray. She could have walked right off the set of the beach movie playing behind us; tanned and smiling, like she'd been to Florida for a vacation. I tried to keep my eyes up, not look at her stomach.

I already knew what I wanted to do. What I needed to say. I was just waiting for Evie to get done, for her to dismiss whatever Sandy was suggesting they do. Steve and Evie had 'his and her's' scowls at that point.

I slipped away, fully intending to catch up to Sandy and to tell her to keep the hell away from Soda. This went way beyond any flirty chick who merited a warning look. This bitch had the potential to hurt him again—but she'd have to get through me first.

I knew pretty much everything, I thought. When Evie had come by to tell me that Sandy had returned, she'd answered anything and everything I thought to ask. So I knew how Soda had been when he was with Sandy, at least as far as Evie's theory went, and I knew that Sandy had laughed behind his back at the fact that he wanted to settle down. To raise a family. I guessed that meant she'd laugh at me too.

My dad loved being out with the stock, or racing the weather to bring in the hay. He worked hard but he liked dances, carnivals and rodeos. When he was with his buddies, they played riotous card games that lasted all night sometimes. He was a generally happy man. But when he was really and truly content, that was when all of us were together; Mom, me, everyone else, when we sat around the table for dinner. When he had all of us in his sight. It shone out of him then, his contentment at having his family around him.

I could think of worse ambitions for Sodapop Curtis.

I didn't get to catch up to Sandy. She'd disappeared, and first Soda, then Evie, caught up with me anyway. Neither of them was stupid, they both knew what I'd intended. It was probably for the best, I didn't want either of them caught in the middle. Sure, Evie didn't have a good word to say about her old friend, but I knew she'd still be feeling conflicted. I hadn't talked to Val in a long, long time, but if she rocked up in front of me, like Sandy had done, I couldn't be sure what my reaction would be.

After the movies, Soda had Steve drop the both of us at my house. We spent a cozy forty five minutes cuddling on the porch, kissing and talking. He was doing it to make a point and that was cool by me. He was mine and I was his and no reappearance by any poor man's Brigitte Bardot was going to stop that.

Maybe I was pushing deliberately, maybe I was reinforcing that we'd made some commitment to each other in our recent talks, but I also genuinely had the future on my mind, I guess, because I asked him how many kids he wanted. I laughed at his answer. Mom would skin me if I went with his ideal figure, she'd spent plenty of time telling me and Audrey both that six kids was a sure fire way to turn anybody grey. Of course, that didn't stop her hinting to Sam and his wife that their two would grow up lonely if they didn't make them some more siblings pretty quick, even when poor Paula was still nursing the baby.

I put some thought into the whole issue of family, later that night. It seemed to me that was the key to Soda. The way he looked up to Darry, the way he cared about Ponyboy. The fact that he was so proud of everything his big brother had done for them all, yet ignored the fact that he'd dropped out himself to take a paying job and contribute. So what if he'd hated school? That wasn't the point.

I actually had a brother who pretty much made A grades all the time. I didn't feel the need to talk about it the way Soda bigged up Pony's achievements, especially not if it put my own less than stellar record in the spotlight. Nor did I think I would constantly mention how good my friend was at fixing engines when I was in that line of work myself. It wasn't like the freaking DX ground to a halt every time Steve wasn't on shift.

I thought I understood Soda now, although I was pretty sure that what he believed he'd explained and what I'd taken from the times we'd talked, was not necessarily the same thing.

He said I deserved someone better. If he ever properly held a mirror up to himself, he'd have to see that was impossible. He was loyal, kind, generous, funny, gentle, caring—I didn't have to go far for examples of any of those things. And yet, he didn't see any of it.

xxXxx

Maps don't always make the most sense to me. I'd never give directions by quoting miles or route numbers, it makes more sense to me to say things like 'turn past the Dairy Queen'. So, although I'd done my share of walking and driving around, with Soda and with Evie too, I was still navigating by landmarks more than anything else. That meant that, weirdly, I knew not only where Evie lived, but where her grade school was—one time we'd gone past and she'd told some story from when she was a kid.

So I started there when I went looking for Sandy. I figured kids usually go to the nearest school, right? I could have called Kathy, but that would mean everyone would know what I was doing. I couldn't use the phone book, because although I thought I'd overheard Sandy's full name, I was also pretty sure she lived with a step dad so there was no guarantee it was the same listing. That sometimes caught people out at home, 'cause Mom and Martin were listed under his surname, which wasn't the same as us kids.

I walked along a couple of streets, but even I knew searching this way was a long shot.

Between the school and Evie's house there were a few stores bunched together and I'd got that far when I ran into Steve. He was coming out of the corner store, tearing open a pack of weeds with his teeth. I don't know which of us was more surprised.

"Hey...?" He tapped out a stick, looking around and past me and not seeing anyone that I was with, of course.

I smiled guiltily.

"What're you...You need a ride somewhere?"

"No. I'm parked back there." I waved my arm in the vague direction of the street.

Steve couldn't wait any longer and lit up his cigarette, taking a long drag. "What're you doing here?" He didn't have to point out that it wasn't on my way home from work, unless I was headed to Evie's and she probably wouldn't be home yet anyway. I debated making up a story, but I couldn't think of anything that would sound approaching credible, so I told him the truth.

"Nah." Steve shook his head. "Don't be doin' that. She ain't worth it."

"She ain't," I partially agreed. "But it ain't her I care about."

For some reason Steve smiled ruefully as he exhaled. "An' you're what, wandering the streets hoping to run into her?"

"Yeah. I guess I ain't exactly Honey West." I shrugged. "But I don't have her address, I just figured it must be near here."

"You packing? You need to borrow a blade?"

I pulled a face at Steve's obvious amusement. "I was just gonna warn her off. Don't need your or anyone's permission, or help." I spoiled my defiant stand, by adding, "Don't tell Soda, please."

He stopped smiling at me, turned thoughtful. "Alright, then." He started walking away but looked back over his shoulder, then nodded left. "Go down Archer Street...it's on the next corner, 's'the one with a green garage door."

As things fell out, I didn't even need all of Steve's help, because as I turned onto Sandy's street she was strolling towards me. I stood with my arms folded as she sauntered up, not changing her pace at all.

"You lost?" There was a hard core under the amused tone. "Or just slumming it?"

That was unfair. These houses weren't slummy. But they were smaller and more worn out than the ones on Aunt Emma's street, so that meant Sandy knew where I lived. I wouldn't need twenty questions to work out who had told her.

"I'm in exactly the right place," I replied. "I came to find you."

"Oh, yeah?" She tossed her hair a little, like it had been in her eyes. It hadn't.

"I was gonna ask you to stay away from Soda—" I started, but she interrupted me with a peal of laughter.

"Ain't you sweet. You think he needs your help, to resist me?"

I held my nerve and kept my voice steady. "You didn't hear the rest. I said, I was gonna ask you, but actually, I changed my mind, I ain't askin', I'm telling. Soda ain't interested an' you shoulda got that message last night, I'm just reinforcing it. Stay away." Her eyes flickered just enough that I knew she hadn't liked it when he shot her down.

"You can't wipe out the fact that me an' Soda have history—"

"Oh, please," this time I interrupted her. "You strung him along and then you cheated on him. You got fuck all chance of that history repeating itself."

Sandy smiled, but it wasn't approaching a happy kind of smile. "If I wanted him, you couldn't do a thing to stop me."

I took a small but important step forward, closer to her. "Try me." I held her gaze, not blinking, until her eyes skittered away from me.

"Who gives a fuck about some dumb grease-monkey? He was never 'all that'." She forced a laugh as she said it and I knew I'd won, but I pushed one last time:

"This place ain't that big. It's possible we'll see you around, when we're out places. Keep your distance."

Sandy's face did a weird transition from smile to scowl. "Whaddya mean 'we'?"

I thought she was playing stupid—I was obviously talking about me and Soda—and I turned to walk away, done with the encounter.

Sandy snapped at me, "You ain't her friend." Which made no kind of sense, but I left her to it and headed back to my car, walking past the stores again.

Parked over on the opposite curb, Steve had one arm out the Chevy window and he was tapping his hand and whistling along with something on the radio. He must have swung back to where I'd said I'd left my car, to wait for me.

"Back in one piece, then?" He had this unnerving way of smiling that didn't always reach his eyes, so I wasn't quite sure if he was genuinely razzing me, or feeling ticked off. I went for 'amused' and told him neither Sandy nor I needed first aid, but I appreciated him sticking around. He nodded. "Alright. An' you reckon she listened to you? She's gonna leave him alone?"

I shrugged modestly. "Reckon."

"Good goin'. I'll see ya around, yeah?" Steve hit the gas and pulled away, down the street towards where Evie lived.

I decided I might break our habit of not going out on work nights and I went home to call Soda.

xxXxx

It was a strange thing, but since Soda and I agreed that we weren't going all the way yet, we actually got closer than we had before. Maybe it was because he didn't feel like he was the only one putting the brakes on anymore. Maybe that pressure being gone meant he could relax some. Didn't mean it wasn't tough, to pull back when every bit of me just wanted more. But it was something we could talk about, laugh about even.

So, when he said, "Whoa," and eased back from me, effectively sitting up on the back seat, I wasn't hacked, it was just...

"Time out?" I asked cheekily, as he shifted around enough to do up his fly. My breathing was just as fast as his and if he hadn't stopped, I would have had to. Things had been getting pretty heavy. Soda grinned back at me.

"Yeah. I reckon we were definitely heading into the fourth quarter there." He refused to use the usual 'first/second/third base' analogy, because he said us making out wasn't like anybody else's tacky getting it on. And he preferred football.

I straightened my clothes and sat up, cuddling into him. "I could probably make some smart remark about play clocks, right about now, if I knew anything about football."

Soda laughed. "I think you know more than you let on."

"No overtime, then?" I said, kissing him gently.

"No overtime." He settled me on his lap and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear. "Not on the backseat of a goddamn Rambler!"

"Oh? Where were you thinking? 'Cause the truck ain't no more comfortable"

He screwed up his face thoughtfully. "Some fancy hotel? Champagne and roses all the way?"

That made me laugh and I asked if he'd picked the bank he was obviously intending to rob. "'Sides," I added, "I wanna get married at home, and there ain't no fancy hotels nearby."

"Niagara Falls," he said, keeping a straight face. "Good place for a honeymoon, I hear."

"Long drive, to Niagara Falls."

"Nah. We'll take the private plane, of course."

We were giggling so much by then, that any tension over the fact that we'd cut making out was gone. I liked it when Soda kissed me, when he touched me, I more than liked it. But I had to admit, I liked the fact that we were keeping something back too. I don't mean like holding anything to ransom. It just seemed to make sense that we had all of the future ahead of us, we had time to wait and get it right—not that I was holding my breath for Niagara Falls!

The biggest benefit of actually talking about stuff was, I got to see that there was a flip side to Soda's not believing that he was good enough for me and it was the fact that he thought I was special. Once I got past the frustration of his not explaining everything properly and I understood what was going on in his head, I actually liked the idea that he wanted everything to be perfect for me. I liked knowing that he thought I was special, it made me feel safe. It made me feel loved. It made me feel...special.