Hello everybody! I keep on updating so fast because your reviews come so quickly and really spur me to write...thanks a bunch!
I really hope I'm not dragging this story too far or making it too OOC. Those are some things I worry about. If you do think it's OOC or dragging out too far - tell me. But keep in mind everybody in this story is about three years older than they were in the book, so they won't be the exact same as they have grown up a little.
Thanks SO much to anyone who has ever reviewed...you are the reason that I keep updating!
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Soda POV
"Let me help you."
I pretend Steve isn't there and continue to go to work. I can't focus on the engine I'm supposed to be fixing, even without Steve here. I can't afford his distractions.
"Here" says Steve again. I see a wrench go flying from his hand. It lands by my feet. I look at the screwdriver in my hand and reluctantly switch it out for the wrench Steve had thrown to me. Then I go back to work in silence.
When Steve still doesn't leave I sigh and sit back on my heals. "What do you want?" I ask looking up at him, annoyed.
He gives me a sideways grin. "Nothing. How's it goin?"
I sigh exasperatedly and continue to tinker with the engine. Steve knows exactly how it's going for me. I wish he'd just leave me alone. Ever since Ponyboy had left my temper had been...as Two-Bit likes to say it...up the wall and over the roof.
"This ain't a good time Steve."
"It's never a good time anymore."
I ignore him. I wince when I find out that I'd been screwing the wrong spot on the engine the whole time. In my frustration I kick the engine, sending it skitting away.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve grab a Pepsi furtively. "You have to pay for that" I grumble, knowing I'm being irritable but not really caring.
He only guffaws at me. "Since when do you care?"
I shake my head. "I don't. But it's cuttin out of your paycheck.."
"You're gettin to be as bad as the boss," Steve gripes. "Lighten up Soda."
I'll tell you to lighten up when YOUR brother is hundreds of miles away with the idiots who shoved alcohol down his throat three weeks ago...But I don't voice my thought. I know it makes no sense. Instead I say "Puh-leeze leave."
I hear Steve click his tongue. "God Soda. Where's the funeral? You really can't keep on blamin yourself for the kid's screwups...they're his problem, not your's."
Wrong thing to say. I jerk up, forgetting the engine on the ground. "But it is my problem" I state blankly. "Because he's my brother and I care about him."
Steve only chuckles and takes a gulp from his stolen Pepsi. I feel heat rising in my face.
"But I guess you wouldn't know what that feels like would you."
Steve stops and looks at me with a blank expression. Immediately I feel cold all over. My grip slackens on the wrench I'm holding and it clatters the the ground. I clench my eyes shut. Stupid Soda. Stupid, stupid…
When I open my eyes again I see Steve put his Pepsi down on the counter hard. The hollow sound it makes echoes through my head. "Steve…I…"
"No," he says flatly. "I get it. It's true." Just then our boss peels around the corner, narrowly missing bumping into Steve. I look to him.
"I think I'll take my lunch break now," I choke out even though it's only ten AM. I need to sort myself out.
Because I'm falling apart and I have no idea what to do.
But I know someone who might. I could always count on him.
If only he wasn't 100s of miles away…
…
I can just barely recall the number Ponyboy had given me.
I take off from the DX the second my boss grants me lunch break, feeling like I'm running from my problems.
I pound into the empty house, leaving Steve's car still running out front. I nearly knock over a lamp when I storm through the living room to get to the phone.
I dial the number, letting the phone ring for a moment before someone picks it up.
"Hello?" it's a woman's voice.
"Hi," I say breathlessly. "This is Ponyboy Curtis' brother...Sodapop. Is this Beatrice Lowell?"
The woman on the other end clicks her tongue. "Yup. Sure is."
I sigh with relief. "Oh thank god. Good."
We're both silent for a moment. "Soooo…" she drawls awkwardly.
I remember why I called in the first place and suddenly perk up. "My brother wouldn't happen to be there too...would he?"
"Nope. Sorry. He and the boys left an hour ago to introduce themselves to the city" she chuckles fervently. I hear her say offhandedly to herself "Oh, what I'd do to be young again.."
I ignore her inane babbling, worrying. He and the boys left an hour ago to introduce themselves to the city… I hate to think what they could be doing right now.
"Well...tell him to call home whenever he gets back." I insist. "Tell him it's Soda. He'll call.
"Sure thing sonny. Is everything alright?"
No it's not. I sigh. "Yeah," I say feeling like a liar. "Everything is fine."
"Because I'm sure I could track him down no problem if-"
"Everything is fine," I declare before hanging up sharply.
I sink into Darry's chair. This really is Windrixville all over again...something I had hoped I'd never have to repeat. Except maybe it's worse this time. Because I know exactly where Ponyboy is but there's no way I could ever get to him now.
I look at the clock. My lunch break is over by now. I need to get back to work before Steve starts to worry about who took his car, and then get back home again before Ponyboy calls.
…
Ponyboy POV
I take out my wallet, ready to pay for the drink the bartender is holding out at me. But Lowell steps in and pushes the money back into my chest taking out his own.
He winks "This one's on me."
I falter, accepting the beer-if you could call it that-with unease. "But-"
Lowell slips the money into the bartender's hand and he walks away. He didn't really care whose money he was accepting. Just as long as he got paid I suppose. "Shut up Curtis."
I take a drink from the alcohol and shudder. It tastes different here than in Miami than it does in Tulsa. More bitter...but then again, maybe that's how it's actually supposed to taste. We didn't exactly exactly top of the line beer back at home.
I watch as Lowell slides into the stool next to me. Lewis and Clark are off somewhere trying to hustle someone in a game of pool, but so far no one is taking two kids who had gotten in with fake IDs seriously.
The bar we're in is loud and crowded. People huddle all over in little skeevy groups, talking and smoking...and some other things that I will never mention to either of my brothers that I have witnessed. Darry and Soda would never approve of any of this, come to think of it. But I guess that's part of what makes this trip fun.
I'm still unnerved by my nightmare last night. It's been almost two years since I've had one and I hadn't been expecting another. When I get back I make a promise to myself to call home...ask if Sodapop plans on entering into any drag races. And then talk him out of it if he is.
Lowell turns on me. "So how are you liking Miami?"
"Well so far all we've done is go to this bar. Which isn't much different than what we do in Tulsa." I opine, smiling.
He shoots me a crooked grin. "But you gotta admit it's a little rougher here. Right?"
"Sure" I agree. And it is. In the twenty minute ride from Beatrice's apartment to the bar, I had counted seven police car sirens. Not to mention the sound of a glass breaking somewhere in the bar that I consciously choose to ignore.
"But it's classy," Lowell ventures, swivelling on the leather stool as though that it's some sort of proof.
I roll my eyes at him and take a drink from my beer. Lowell rambles on. "There are zoos here, Curtis. Zoos. I say we go to a zoo."
I choke on a laugh. I haven't been to a zoo since I was ten. I can clearly recall the last time I went though. Soda had spilled his ice cream down the front of his shirt.
"Sure. A zoo. See the lions...or whatever they have here."
Lowell's eyes twinkle. "Even better. Gorillas."
"Right."
Just then Clarke comes bounding over, sporting a bruise that is forming around his right eye and a busted lip. Behind him I can see Smith just barely fending off a big burly man with a pool cue. I can tell already that whatever bet they managed to make has gone wrong and havoc has started to wreak.
What fun.
"We. Have. To. Leave." Clarke says through clenched teeth.
The sound of shattered glass echoes through the bar as Smith smashes a beer bottle with a flying pool cue. The bartender on duty only looks at him and the man tiredly. Another day's work…
Clarke turns to the bartender. "He'll pay for that."
Seeing that Clarke has captured our attention, Smith drops the pool cue and makes a break for a door. Catching the memo I'm soon to follow, leaving the beer Lowell had bought me forgotten at the counter.
Maybe I was wrong. Miami is off to a great start.
…
Man, I hope that Soda and Steve argument wasn't too dramatic/cheesy/OOC. I just wanted to get this story really rolling and present some of the conflicts that will be throughout it.
Puh-leeze review. Here's a sob story for you: That argument scene with Soda and Steve took like 3 rewrites. First I just tried to revise the hell out of the first one...but it just wasn't doing it for me...so I took it down and rewrote it and then had to revise THAT. What a sad sack wine bag I am being. Haha. Have I bribed you into reviewing? ;)
