Friday the 13th
"Ponyboy, wake up," Soda said, nudging his younger brother. "No," Ponyboy said stubbornly.
"Ponyboy, Sodapop, it's time for school," Mrs. Curtis said, poking her head into their bedroom.
"I'm not going!" Ponyboy said stubbornly, burrowing under the covers. "I refuse."
"But Ponyboy," Mrs. Curtis said. "It's time for school. Come on," she said, pulling the covers off his head.
"But Mom," Ponyboy whined. "It's Friday the 13th!"
Soda's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked. Ponyboy nodded. Soda considered this, and then dove under the covers right along with Ponyboy.
"Boys," Mrs. Curtis said firmly, "Don't make me have to drag you out of bed."
No response.
"You can have cake for breakfast," she tried.
Still nothing.
Finally she turned to her last and deadliest resort. "Don't make me have to call your father."
Thirty seconds later, the two brothers were ready for school.
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Johnny stared at his best friend. "Wow, Ponyboy," he said. "I had no idea you were so superstitious."
"I'm not," Ponyboy said defensively. "I'm…careful."
"Right," cut in Two-Bit. "That's why you have that dumb horseshoe hanging around your neck and fifty four leaf clovers."
"Want one?" Ponyboy offered Two-Bit.
Two-Bit stared at Ponyboy. "Do I look crazy to you? I'm not a superstitious nut!"
Dallas rolled his eyes. "He's only saying that because he's allergic."
Two-Bit glowered at Dallas while Ponyboy and Johnny guffawed behind their hands. "Four leaf clovers? Who's allergic to good luck charms?" Ponyboy laughed. "Man, Two-Bit, you are one unlucky guy."
Two-Bit, for once, didn't make a silly joke. Instead, he just looked at Ponyboy while a very strange smile spread across his face. It gave Ponyboy chills up his spine just to look at Two-Bit.
"Not for long," he said mysteriously, the smile still on his face. "Not for long."
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Ponyboy got strange looks for the rest of the day, but he didn't care, just as long as Friday the 13th didn't bring him bad luck.
That afternoon, though, was when everything started, strangely enough when Ponyboy took off his horseshoe.
Mrs. Curtis was checking a hand mirror to fix the back of her hairstyle, when it slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor. Ponyboy sat transfixed, staring at the pieces on the floor.
"Oh, dear," she sighed. "I'll just have to clean that up."
"Mom!" Ponyboy screamed. "That's seven years bad luck!"
"Ponyboy, relax," she reassured him. "Nothing's going to happen."
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Ponyboy stared out the window. Steve was coming up the street. He nearly tripped over a stray cat and kicked it, cursing.
It hissed at him and disappeared into the shadows. It was a midnight black tomcat.
Ponyboy considered yelling at Steve about bad luck, too, but decided against it. He wasn't in the mood to be kicked and sworn at.
Why am I the only one concerned about bad luck? Ponyboy thought to himself. What's up with that?
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Later that night, when the sun was just setting, six hooded boys gathered at the vacant lot.
One lit a fire and the others hummed impatiently. They couldn't whistle because it would attract too much attention.
"Like that fire won't?" Dallas snapped. Darry glared up at Dallas from his spot on the ground, his face covered with ash.
"Guys," Soda said tensely. "Quit stalling. There ain't much time left."
"Isn't, Soda. There isn't much time left," Darry corrected automatically.
"Right, like I said. There ain't much time left."
"I still don't see why Pony couldn't come," Johnny said nervously.
"Because," Steve said impatiently. "This'll just be his first time. This year's just his eleventh Friday the 13th. But it's yours and Soda's thirteenth, Johnnycake."
"Yeah," Two-Bit cut in. "We've all done this. In two years we'll do it for Ponyboy too."
Johnny and Soda glanced at each other. According to the rest, this was some old tradition Darry found in a book about a boy's thirteenth Friday the thirteenth. They weren't sure what was going to happen.
All the rest of the gang except Ponyboy had been through it. Darry refused to say anything about it, and forbid them from breathing a word about it to Ponyboy. Dallas said it was torture. Two-Bit made some dumb crack about drinking thirteen bottles of beer, and Steve just clapped Soda on the back and said sympathetically, "I feel for you, man."
The sun was almost set. Darry threw back his hood and announced, "Let the ritual begin!"
And it did…
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"Mom, Dad, I'm going to watch the sunset," Ponyboy called to his parents.
"Sure you don't need a four-leaf clover?" Mr. Curtis yelled back jokingly. Ponyboy declined from answering, but slammed the door on his way out.
He heard his brother's voice coming from the vacant lot as he walked by there. He stopped abruptly at the sound of it. Wait a minute. Hadn't they said they were going to a friend's?
Ponyboy turned and stared at the scene before him. He stared, paralyzed in fear for a moment at the loud, raucous, barbaric scene before him.
Johnny turned and saw Ponyboy standing there transfixed. He grabbed Dallas, who turned and the look of glee on his face quickly turned to rage. "Get him!" he yelled.
Six greasers turned simultaneously on Ponyboy, whose legs seemed to have turned to lead. Finally they seemed to register his brain's message: RUN YOU IDIOT!
And he did, like the wind. He could hear six boys turned wild monsters behind him, howling with the wind and whooping like warriors.
Ponyboy thanked his lucky (although could he really call them that in this situation?) stars that he was the fastest runner of them all.
He ran home as fast as he could, ignored his parents and tore up to his room, hollering at the top of his lungs.
He didn't stop until he was safe under his bedcovers…locked in the linen closet where he was sure they wouldn't find him.
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Mr. Curtis exchanged glances with Mrs. Curtis. "What was all that about?' she asked.
Mr. Curtis shrugged. "My guess is, he walked by the vacant lot and saw the boys."
Mrs. Curtis raised her eyebrows. "They still do that?" she exclaimed.
"Sure," Mr. Curtis said. "This year's Soda's and Johnny's thirteenth."
Mrs. Curtis sighed. "So juvenile," she said, shaking her head sadly.
"Let them alone," Mr. Curtis said. "They're not doing anything wrong. It's just for fun."
Mrs. Curtis rolled her eyes when her husband wasn't looking.
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"Where do you think he went?" Soda asked Darry. They had looked all over the house but couldn't find him anywhere.
"I don't know, but he shouldn't have seen that," Darry said. "We've got to set him straight."
They walked right by the linen closet as they spoke.
"It's a shame we didn't catch him," Soda sighed. "I wish I could have just…"
"Soda," Darry said sharply. "He's not supposed to know. He'll find out soon enough about Friday the thirteenth. After all," he added with a wicked grin. "We're just having fun."
In the linen closet, Ponyboy broke out in a cold sweat. His brain buzzed, and he didn't hear the last words spoken by Soda:
"Yeah, but he would've loved it. Who knew that there's some medieval superstition that dancing around a fire gives you good luck for the next seven years?"
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So lame, I know. Bur happy Friday the thirteenth anyway, and if you'll excuse me, I've got to break a few mirrors myself.
