It is now September. School has started and I'm taking a lot of courses with smarter boys, though I don't have nearly as much anticipation about the matter as I used to. High school always seems like a dream in the movies. Then again, those beach movies make summer seem fantastic and eventful, which it isn't if you're a Greaser. I guess school's not that bad, though. More opportunities for sports, which is a plus. But, as a girl, all I am really allowed to do is cheerleading, so I guess that isn't much of a plus. More testing, more homework, more of the colder kind of weather and less of the warmer kind, less time to spend with the gang, more afterschool committees, and more distractions.
Those distractions being Ponyboy.
Yes, we had been keeping up our "romance" for weeks. We had found time for each other whenever we could: wandering in the hallways in between classes, at the house before Darry and Soda were home from work, in the mornings before school started, whenever we could.
Steve has received permission from the county to take care of me, so I'll probably have to move in with him soon. I'm unsure of myself anymore. At first, I wanted to live with Steve. I'd be more independent, and the Curtis family wouldn't need to spend money on an extra person. It seems to me that there are more cons than pros, though. Ponyboy won't be the last person I see before I go to sleep each night. Darry won't be in the next room for me to run to when I'm having nightmares about the night I found out about Dally's death. I'll miss the way Sodapop wouldn't be able to sleep, thinking about Sandy and how I'd stay up with him because I couldn't stop thinking about my love, either. (Of course, I never revealed his name. There would have been a true dispute if anyone had found out about Ponyboy and I. This secret has been eating me alive!)
I've only been to Steve's house twice. Once when I was little, but I can't remember much. The other time I've visited there was when I was eleven or so, and he needed Dally to help him fix the piping for the kitchen sink. Steve's parents were out of town, then, thankfully. Dally told me they were just as bad (abuse-wise) as our folks. The rumor from Ponyboy is that they packed up and left one day, sometime throughout the span of time that I spent in the girls' home.
I don't know how I'm going to make this transition, but I've been moved around from house to house to apartment to apartment for as long as I can remember – Dally always placed me wherever he thought I'd be safest. That location changed a lot, so I've found a few tricks to make transporting myself and the few belongings I have a little bit easier.
Hey, I'm Dandy Winston – I can so do this! (Minus the fact that I've become so dependent on my relationship with Ponyboy that I'm going to need his support.)
