A/N: Thank you guest reviewers. :) Sorry, everyone that this is taking me so long to update. But I promise - again - that I will not leave it unfinished!
It seemed like there were cops on every corner of every street. That'd be right – where the hell were they when Johnny got jumped? They had fuck all interest in the North side when it was a greaser getting worked over, but when a Soc went down...But then...
Dead.
Even being beaten up as bad as Johnny had been wasn't the same as that.
I don't know if I'd been holding onto the idea that Soda must've got the story wrong, but I knew now that the whole world was buzzing with the news. Half the gossipers I'd passed as I walked had Pony and Johnny already in the chair.
Still, I stuck out my chin as I went past the cruiser at the end of Tim's street, mentally flipping off the bored looking cop inside. I remembered thinking about whether I could even find this street, let alone the Shepard house, after Curly busted his arm and Pony was asking me about him. It was kind of unreal that I now knew the house well enough to know that the kitchen door stuck, unless you kicked it in the right place.
That first day, I'd thought Wes was kidding when he invited me to hang out. Not that I knew who he was then; I didn't know who any of them were, except the two Shepard brothers and since I was hacked at Curly and afraid of Tim, I felt way out of my depth. But the girls smiled and the guy with the deck of cards smiled and I had no real reason not to smile back.
By the time all the introductions had been made and I had a drink in front of me, I was wishing it wasn't a weekday afternoon. At the very least I was wishing the place would fill up a bit quicker, so people could see me with the Shepard gang. Me, hanging out with the Shepard gang. By then the fact that I was afraid of Tim didn't seem as important as the fact that the guy from Brumly had been afraid of him. See, there were greasers and then there were greasers. Every boy I'd ever spoken more than two words to was a greaser. Obviously. But none of them was anything significant in any gang hierarchy, not even the asshole from Brumly. And none of the girls from school, who'd invited me to parties as bait, was anyone significant either.
These girls—Lana and Mandy—were older and cooler and...something I couldn't put my finger on, but that I instantly wanted to be, too.
Lana was definitely with Tim. Had to be, the way he casually held onto her and the way she neither objected, nor stopped him. But she watched Wes carefully, as he explained the rules of the game to me and she told me my nails were nice, as I picked up the cards.
I gulped. Her own nails were redder than red, while mine were longish but natural. School rule-compliant natural. If she asked me why they weren't painted, I thought I might die of embarrassment.
"You oughta come by sometime," she said. "I got a new polish would look far out on you."
Wes smirked to himself just a little and winked at her, but at the time I was too nervous to imagine his reaction had anything to do with me. And later, when they all declared they were bored with the scene at The Dingo, I was confused again because Lana told Wes she'd see him 'at home' and asked if I wanted to go with her, to get that manicure.
Now, as I reached the Shepard house and heard the piercing whistle from across the street, I knew exactly where I was headed when I changed direction.
"Hey, babe, you 'kay? You givin' me the cold shoulder 'cause last night was a bust?" Wes grinned at me from the porch floor, where he had what looked like a radio spread out in pieces between his legs.
I told him no, I would've come over, but I was looking for Curly first.
"Only Tim's around an' he's here." He jerked a thumb at the open front door.
Lana and Wes lived with their grandmother, had done for most of their lives, which meant their house had a freaky combination of old lady furniture and hip decoration. They were cousins, which explained why they acted like siblings but looked nothing alike, I guessed. Simple geography—growing up in sight of one another—was probably the main reason that Wes was Tim's second in command, and Lana his girl.
In contrast to Wes's greeting, when Tim came out to investigate the sound of our voices, he only grunted at me. He had a hellava black eye. It was swollen enough to make it seem like he was permanently winking. I'd never seen an organized fight before. At practically every party I'd ever been to there was some kind of dispute, some shoving and name calling, but two perfectly calm guys facing off deliberately? That had been a first for me.
I wondered how bad off Dallas was this morning.
"Whadda ya want, doll?" Tim walked past me, sending a stream of smoke towards the cop car down the block as he curled his lip in that direction.
"I came to see if Curly knows where Ponyboy went." I knew what Soda had said, but I also knew that Curly could lie through his teeth.
"Yeah. Good luck with that," Tim growled. "Stupid little asswipe got himself hauled in."
"What? When? Soda said he spoke to him." It'd been breakfast time when Soda came around my house, after which I'd had Stella to deal with, after which I'd cleaned myself up, gotten out and headed here. It was barely lunchtime.
"Curtis? He was lucky I didn't knock him into fucking next week, coming round here at the crack of fucking dawn."
I looked at Wes, hoping for more details without I had to question Tim again. He shrugged, losing his grin as he explained: "Turns out Curly had a humdinger of an alibi for what went down in the park. They got him identified 'cross town, breaking into some liquor store at the time. Cops picked him up about an hour ago." He grimaced at Tim's back and gave me a 'hand-across-the-throat' signal, which I took to mean 'don't talk to Tim about it no more'.
"You friendly with the Curtis kid?" Tim turned around and scrutinized me. I figured he was putting together the fact that Curly knew me from school, where he was Pony's buddy. I nodded.
"I don't think he... I mean, it must've been..." My non-thoughts on the whole business wobbled out of my mouth. It was still easier than explaining that I didn't know if Pony and I were friends any more.
"Curly reckoned he was tuff enough. One less Soc bastard in the world, seems like a good result to me." An icy smile was his final verdict.
"Does anyone know where Pony and Johnny went? Where they're hiding?" I looked between the two of them, but they both shook their heads.
I wished I had better news, but I still felt like I needed to report it.
xxXxx
The Curtis place was never that different from any other house on the street, on the block, in the neighborhood. Except to me, it was. But that day, as I went up the front walk, it looked in need of a coat of paint. A new roof. New doors, windows. It looked like all the life had gone out of it.
There's this old cartoon about some little critter—I guess it's a mole, ain't they the blind ones?—and he sees this fairy castle every day. Only one day he finds some eyeglasses and he realizes that what he's been looking at for so long ain't really nothing but a whole heap of junk. Rusty cans and broken bottles catching the light. He ditches the specs, 'cause he'd rather live in a world with a fairy castle.
I wanted my fairy castle back.
That weird Sunday quietness was suffocating. It was always a dead kind of day and I always hated it; a surprising amount of people get stuck with either church or family stuff, or both. And the lack of shopping opportunities is a downer. It was worse than ever though, as I dragged myself up the steps and opened the front door.
"Hey, sweetie. Any news?" Two-Bit was perched on the arm of the couch, like he was ready to spring up.
I shook my head. "I've asked everywhere I can think of."
"Me too. Just got back here myself." His smile was supposed to be sympathetic, I knew, as his eyes slid over to Soda, slumped at the dining table, more like a shadow than himself.
Steve came in from the kitchen and put a mug of coffee in front of Soda. He looked from me to Two-Bit, raising his eyebrows in a question. When Two-Bit shook his head, Steve's face fell. I guess even he was worried, although he mostly seemed to be bugged by Pony. Maybe it was Soda he was worried for.
"The fuzz been back since I was here?" Two-Bit asked.
Soda shook his head. "Darry's gone out to search again. He's all kinds of sorry, blaming himself, because he hit Pony..."
What the hell? Another piece of the fairy castle crumbled away.
"He didn't mean to," Soda said, with something desperate on the edge of his tone.
"You can't hit someone without meaning to." My voice came out kind of hollow. I pulled my hand down from my cheek, aware that I was the subject of all their eyes at once. Steve looked away first. I don't know why I remember that.
"You find Dallas?" Soda asked Two-Bit and he got a nod in reply.
"Says he was out of commission all night, after he ditched them at the movies."
"He got into it with Tim," I said, to confirm Two-Bit's report. "They took it down by the tracks. It was 'one on one', but everyone was there, watching. Tim put Dallas on his ass good enough, so he probably went home to bed." This time it wasn't anything like pity in their eyes as they all regarded me in silence. "What? I'm only telling you, Pony wasn't with Dallas when I saw him."
A noise from outside caught my attention. I backed up towards the door. "I'm gonna look down by the rail yard again."
"We've been all over, they ain't there," Two-Bit said, not unkindly. I didn't answer, I just headed out the door.
Darry was climbing down from his truck in the driveway as I got to him.
"You rat bastard!" The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. His own mouth fell open in shock. He looked about as tired and defeated as Soda had, but I could have cared less. "You laid into him? That's why he's gone?"
"Get out of here, Lainey, it's nothing to do with you." It came out hoarse, tired.
"The hell it ain't! Pony's my friend."
"You sure about that?"
What? I stared, momentarily wrong footed.
"You think him running interference for your reputation makes you a good friend? I could think of other words," Darry spat. "Same as I could think of a few words for you leading him on—"
"I never did that!"
"Fuck's sake, he had the biggest crush on you and you exploited it."
What?
"I couldn't let you stomp on his feelings and I wasn't about to see you leave him in your wake, like you did Winston."
Oh. God. I took a step back."You told him? Told Pony about Dallas?"
"Who the hell d'ya think kept Dallas quiet in the first place, Lainey? He was here the morning after he got with you, couldn't wait to share the details. Lucky for you, I was the only one around, or he'd have spilled his guts to the lot of 'em."
Crowding into my head was the way Pony had been so sad and disappointed with me. But also, all the other times before that, when we'd hung out. And the times Johnny had been there, sharing a Pepsi. Or Two-Bit had razzed me, like he did his kid sister. Or Soda had been his usual self. The pizza night. What if they'd known about Dallas? How would they have reacted?
Were all those safe hours at this house bought for me by Darry?
Darry rubbed his face, sighing. "Just go home, Lainey. Or...wherever you're going." He glanced at the street. At the car parked there and the figure behind the wheel. "And don't bring any damn hoods around here again. How'd you think that'd look to the cops?"
I swallowed. I had so much, and nothing, to say.
Wes was frowning when I climbed in the car.
"You 'kay, babe? What the big guy say to ya? You went a real funny color." He held out his weeds and I took one, automatically. I shook my head and told him to get us out of there.
