Note: I want to thank each of you who reviewed the last chapter.
xodamhsoirxo, Thanks for correcting my grammar. I try to catch them before I post the chapter, but I guess I read too fast. ;) Also thanks to:
Harrypotterfanaticgirl, Unknown Brilliance, BSBnACcHiCk, Medea Crowley, stereochick, linda5576, CrazyXbEAUTIFUL, EveryRoseHasAThorn, SisterCat144, RatsRule, Troyella0, and anyone else who's reading.
Along Came a Spider
Chapter 8: Welcome Home
Some awkward silences are worse than others. Like ones that occur right before you know something bad is about to happen. I immediately remember the silence that followed the death of Bob Sheldon. It's like that now. Maybe even the exact same silence, except worse. I wish now that a dead person was the worst of my problems.
"Soda…maybe we should go see Steve." Two-bit says quietly. I've never seen Two-bit so serious, Darry so scared, and Soda so angry. I feel like we've all switched places, which could easily be the case, since now I feel invisible. Like I'm watching a really bad movie with really good actors. Soda props his elbows on his knees, leaning forward on the couch. At first I think he's going to answer Two-bit, maybe even agree to his suggestion, but he darts his eyes to Darry instead.
"So tell me about your friend Pony." Soda states dangerously, not bothering to look at me. "Or maybe you can tell me about him Darry? Hm? Jack was it? You wanna tell me what Jack was afraid of Dar? Why he ran off so quickly?" Darry looks from me to Two-bit, but neither one of us are looking at him. I wish now more than anything that I could know what was going on in Darry's head.
"I don't know em'. He called once, but that's all." Darry answers truthfully. Soda stands up and paces the length of our living room, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I feel like a kid in the principal's office.
"I know I didn't finish high school Darry, and I don't know, maybe you hold that against me…but I'm not a moron." Soda tells him. At least I think it's Soda, though I wouldn't be surprised if it was someone else in his body. I've never seen Soda so outraged before, and I really wish he would just forget about it. I would do anything to let this go and start over. I would even pretend that everything was okay between Darry and me if it would make Soda go back to normal.
"I don't hold it against you Sodapop. I know why you dropped out." Darry tells him. Soda whirls around and faces him angrily.
"Oh good, I'm so glad!" Soda screams sarcastically. "Now tell me what the fuck went on while I wasn't here! Someone! Two-bit? Pony? Anyone wanna explain this to me?"
"Soda…calm down, alright? Please." I beg quietly. He turns to me, frustration and pain in his eyes, and I know he knows exactly what went on while he was gone. I know he's waiting for someone to tell him he's wrong, that everything was fine, and it was just a misunderstanding. He wants to be wrong just as badly as I want to be wrong and Two-bit wants to be wrong, and that's what makes him right.
"I'm sorry Soda." Darry whispers. He's looking at the floor and his shoulders are hunched, and I know he's crying. Suddenly I'm so angry.
"You're sorry Soda?!" I yell. "How about 'I'm sorry Pony'? How about I'm sorry Pony for hurting you and making you cry and not letting you have any friends?! Or even better, how about, I'm sorry Pony for not loving you no matter how fucking hard you try to please me? How about, I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me? Jesus Christ, I'm sorry Soda?"
The awkward silence is back again, except now instead of being invisible, I'm the center of attention. Instead of the audience, I'm the lead actor, and everyone is staring at me with nothing to say. Or maybe so much to say that they don't know where to begin. Soda opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. They stare at me and I stare back at them through a film of tears. Suddenly I let out a bitter, chilling laugh.
"Happy fucking homecoming, Private Curtis!"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
I don't know what day it is, and frankly I don't care. I don't know what time it is, though I'm guessing it's almost midnight. It's dark, it's raining, and it's cold. I couldn't stay in the house anymore. It was too light, too dry, and too hot. I just took off. Figures none of them came after me, they're probably still staring at the spot I was standing in with that dumb look on their faces. The thought of it makes me burst out in hysterics. The fucking-
"Goddamned morons!" I partly think and partly scream out loud. I know I should stop before someone hears me.
"Fuck that! I hope someone hears me! I hope all of Tulsa can hear me! I hate you Darryl Curtis! I hate you Steve and Johnny and Dallas! I hate you Mom and Dad and the fucking invisible God up there! I hate the whole world! But most of all, I hate you Sodapop Curtis and I hate the fucking war!" I scream until my throat closes up and I can't yell anymore. I lay down in the middle of the street, my eyes to the sky, soaking up the rain like I did not too long ago.
"We all carry on
When our brothers in arms are gone
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die,
And return from the ashes you call."
I sing softly to myself, thinking how nicely the car horns sound to it.
oOoOoOoOoOoO
I still don't know what day it is, and I still don't know what time it is. I pump my legs harder, pushing myself higher and higher into the sky. I haven't swung like this in years. Or maybe it's only been months and it just feels like it's been years. Maybe I'm insane, though I don't think I'm that lucky.
It's barely sprinkling now. My whole body is shaking and the wind on top of the swing's friction isn't helping. I'm freezing and I'm thinking that maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that means I can feel things now. I let go of the swing's icy chains and place my hands in my lap. Here goes nothing, I think, taking in a deep breath. I wait until the swing hits it's highest point, and then I jump off, hovering in the air for a quick lifetime. I land on my arm and it twists unnaturally, sending a searing pain through my shoulder.
I pretend I'm back in Darry's arms on the day the church burned down. I savor the look he gave me and the tears he cried as he told me he was afraid he had lost me. I use my good arm to push myself to my feet. I watch the vacant swing rock back and forth in the wind, and listen to the way the chains squeak where they've rusted. I ignore the pain in my left arm and make my way home, wondering when it got to be so goddamned cold.
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