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Talks
The guy glanced up at me over the newspaper, then put it down, folding it deliberately and placing it on the coffee table. Shifting his feet off the table, he sat up, then crossed his arms, his eyes going from the top of my head, lingering on my face, then moving down until he'd looked me over completely, nodding a little to himself like he was confirming something. He was a tall guy, not as tall as Darrel, but tough looking. "Hey, kid." He greeted simply, like he spent all of his spare time in my living room., reading my uncle's newspaper.
I swallowed hard, glancing over at the front door and wondering if I could make it, feeling like my whole body was vibrating. Was he a friend of my uncle's, or had my uncle already managed to piss someone off? I wasn't sure which one would be worse. The guy snorted a little, pushing himself up and holding out a hand, his lips curled up in an amused smile. "Calm down, kid. I'm Tim Shephard, a buddy of Dally's."
I blinked a few times, trying to remember that name, then it clicked. Steve had told me about him...he ran a real gang in another part of town. Said him and his friends weren't a gang like Tim Shephard's outfit even though they rumbled sometimes. So this guy was in a gang. A real one. I felt even more nervous, but I sure didn't want to offend him, so I took the hand he held out hesitantly, shaking it. "Ponyboy Davis." I introduced myself and he nodded, looking me over but not saying anything about my name.
"Heard you saved Johnny Cade."
"Yeah." I murmured.
"That where you got all those bruises?" He asked.
"Yeah." I lied. He lifted an eyebrow.
"All of them?" I shrugged, not willing to answer that. He snorted. "That's what I thought. You know where your uncle is?"
"Work, I guess." He smirked.
"He's gonna take off for a few hours. Should be on his way home now." I paled, glancing at the door again.
"How come?" I asked.
"His boss owes me a favor." He smirked. "Don't worry, kid. He ain't gonna do nothing to ya." I lifted an eyebrow, wondering why this guy was in our house and how he thought he could guarantee that.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Cause it would be rude to start beating on a kid when I'm trying to talk to him, and I don't take too well to rude people." His grin reminded me of a tiger or something, friendly enough on the surface, but I got the feeling he'd tear my throat out if I crossed him. I hummed in agreement, my eyes going back to the door. "You can split if you want, Ponyboy. I ain't gonna hurt you or nothing." He assured me. I just shrugged, and he eyed the laundry under my arm. "Or you could dump that…" I blinked down at the clothes I was still holding and nodded.
"Right…" Hurrying back into my bedroom, I dropped my clothes into my hamper and then stood there for a moment, wondering why he was even there. To talk to my uncle? Why? Why would one of Dallas's friends care about my uncle?
Heading back into the living room, I found Tim had made himself comfortable once more, feet on the coffee table, but he hadn't picked up the paper. I hovered in the doorway, watching, and he smirked again. "You, uh...you want something to drink?" I asked, crossing my arms. The smirk turned to a smile of real amusement and he chuckled a little.
"Beer if you think your uncle can spare one." I nodded, heading into the kitchen, grabbing him one and popping the cap, then handing it to him. "You know, I got a brother about your age. How old are you?" He wondered, then took a long drink.
"Fourteen." He nodded toward the chair and, hesitantly, I took a seat.
"My kid brother, Curly, I swear he gets locked up every other week." He took another drink of the beer. "You ever been arrested?" He asked with the air of someone expecting the answer to be no. I shook my head. "You're a good kid, huh?" He asked. He didn't sound like he was judging me, or making fun of me neither...just stated it as fact. I shrugged.
"I don't know...I guess."
"You fight much?" He wondered.
"No…"
"What made you jump in and save the Cade kid?"
"He was yelling for help," I told him, giving him the same answer I'd given Steve. He hummed, draining the rest of the beer just as a truck pulled in the driveway. I stiffened, jumping to my feet as his truck door slammed. I glanced over at Tim who hadn't moved except to pull his leather jacket back a little, and for the first time I noticed the gun. I felt my eyes widen as they went from the gun to his amused grin. At least he was having fun. "Are you gonna kill him?" I asked, not too bothered by the idea, but kind of scared. If someone killed my uncle, what would happen to me? I guess I'd get sent to a boy's home...glory, that sounded worse than living with the asshole. I mean, he could have been there to kill me, but I figured that if he'd wanted to do that, he'd have gotten me already.
"Do you want me to?" He asked seriously as my uncle stomped up the porch stairs. I looked between him and the door, honestly torn. He met my eyes, and I could have sworn he understood just as the door was thrown open.
My uncle threw me a nasty glare, taking a step toward where I was standing, then froze as he caught sight of Tim. "What the hell?" He asked as Tim pulled himself lazily to his feet, holding out a hand.
"Tim Shepherd." He introduced himself, stepping around me. I moved out of his way, choosing to stand behind Tim…I trusted him more than my uncle at the moment. My uncle just stared at the hand and Tim dropped it, shoving it in his pockets. "You just started work at the refinery, right?"
"Yeah, now who the hell…"
"I just wanted to have a talk with you." He interrupted. Tim was giving my uncle that dangerous smile, and I glanced at Aaron to see how he was taking this. He threw me a glare.
"What are you looking at, you little shit?" He snapped, and Tim moved a little, blocking me from his view.
"Don't worry about the kid right now. We need to have that talk." He turned to me. "Ponyboy, why don't you grab me another beer, huh? You don't mind, do you, Aaron?" I blinked, glancing at my uncle who was looking at Tim's hip. I nodded, backing away a little, and went into the kitchen, taking my time while they spoke quietly in the other room. Neither raised their voice...I could barely hear them from where I stood in front of our icebox, selecting a beer. I would have liked some food but figured I didn't have time to make anything. Instead, I grabbed a soda and drank it while I stood in the kitchen, glancing over at Darrel Curtis's house.
I wanted to be there. It was safe there. Nobody hit me there….nobody yelled at me or called me a 'shit'...I wasn't scared over there. I'd forgotten what it was like to not be scared all the time. It wasn't fair, though. Darrel Curtis had his own brother to worry about...his own family. I knew he was a nice guy, but I couldn't hide behind him like a little kid. But even I was started to wonder why I had to keep convincing myself of that.
Finally, I went back into the living room with the beer Tim had asked for and he took it, reaching out and patting me on the shoulder. "Thanks, kid." He turned back to Aaron who glanced over at me, looking more resigned than furious. Still, I had to fight the urge to take a step back. "He's gonna take you up to the school." He took a long drink of the beer, holding the bottle loosely in one hand. "Aaron, I'll be around." Tim held out a hand that my uncle shook this time, then ambled out the door. In the silence, I tensed, waiting. I had no idea what Tim had wanted with my uncle, but apparently, it had something to do with me.
My uncle sighed, jerking his head. "Let's go." He snapped. Not about to ask if we were actually going to go to the school, I followed. He climbed into the car, and I waited for a second before following, sitting in the back seat as far away from him as I could get.
The high school was only about a mile or so away from the house and Aaron headed right through the front door, ignoring me as I trailed behind. Classes must have been going on because there was no one in the halls. The lady at the front desk glanced up from her papers and smiled, the expression freezing in place as my uncle got closer. I figured he was glaring, but she didn't let the smile slip. "How can I help you?" She asked.
"We just moved here. I gotta get my nephew in school."
"Oh...I see." She glanced at me and her eyes lingered on the still-dark black eye, probably thinking I was trouble or something. "Let me get the principal…" She stood, throwing one last glance over her shoulder while I waited with my uncle, arms hanging uselessly at my sides.
The principal, a big guy in a suit came out from his office, following the woman. He held out a hand to my uncle and looked me over, his jaw tightening. "My name is Kevin Garrison. I'm the principal here…" My uncle shook his hand, and I watched the principal's eyes flick over to me once more before going back to Aaron.
"Aaron Davis." He introduced himself. "I need to register my nephew for school. We just moved here."
The man nodded, gesturing for us to join him. "Follow me." He invited, leading us to a back room where there was a small table and a couple of chairs. Shutting the door behind us, he gestured for my uncle to sit. I started to do the same when he approached me, his blue eyes hard, and for a second they reminded me of Darrel Curtis...which was stupid. This guy looked pretty mean. Darrel had only been nice to me. "And you are…"
"Ponyboy Davis," I answered, taking the hand he held out and struggling to meet his cold gaze. The black eye and bruises on my cheek hadn't really faded much, and my lip was still split just off the center. I guess I looked like a hood. Or a greaser. That thought was almost comforting.
He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Aaron. "Ponyboy?" He asked.
"My sister's idea...thought it would be unique or some shit." He shrugged. "Not like I can change it." The principal nodded, looking back at me, nose wrinkled like he'd bit something gross.
"Do you have a middle name you could go by?"
"I like my name," I told him defiantly. I didn't...well...I hadn't. I thought of Sodapop and liked it a little more. He had a weird name and I bet he didn't let anyone make fun of him for it. Or if they did, I bet Darry didn't let anyone tease his little brother. My chest ached a little and once more I called myself a baby. Soda had somebody to take up for him...heck, all those guys did.
"I don't allow fighting in my school, Mr. Davis. Do you understand?" The principal told me then, apparently deciding that using my last name was an acceptable alternative. I decided not to make a big deal of it. Aaron wouldn't take well to me making this any harder.
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He took a seat across from my uncle, and after hesitating for a second, I sat beside Aaron, keeping as far away from him as possible. "There's some paperwork, and we can have his records sent from his previous school. How old is he?" I didn't let myself glare, but I stared at the tabletop, wondering if he thought I was deaf or something. I could talk for myself.
"Thirteen." My uncle said it like a curse.
"Fourteen." I corrected him under my breath. The principal and my uncle both turned to stare at me, both of them looking almost equally irritated. "Fourteen," I told the principal a little louder. "My birthday was a few days ago."
"I see." He turned to my uncle again. "9th grade?"
"Yep." My uncle nodded as he filled out the paperwork. "They said he might get bumped up a grade...said he's smart but I sure don't see it." My ears got hot and I did glare at the table then. Mr. Garrison hummed, glancing over at me critically. I kept staring at the table, the only sound in the room the scratching of his pen against the paper.
For what felt like hours but probably only lasted a few minutes, my uncle filled out the paperwork, his sloppy handwriting filling the lines. Once he'd signed all the papers, given the information from my last school, and had me sign a few of the papers, he pushed them all over to the principal. If felt almost normal...then again, he usually was in public places like this. Once we were back on our own property, though, it was anybody's guess as to how he'd act. He'd been real bad lately, ever since the move, but before, there had been full stretches, weeks even, when he wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. I'd forge his signature on my report cards and, for a while, on the forms for track practice. We lived in relative harmony.
The principal skimmed my papers, looking at me then. "Mr. Davis, when you arrive tomorrow morning, my secretary will have your class schedule. Since you're arriving close to the start of the new term, there are still some openings. Homeroom starts at 7:15 and you'll be expected to be there on time." He stood as soon as the words were out of his mouth, pushing himself up from the table so quickly I thought his chair was going to fall over. We followed suit, my uncle shaking his hand. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Davis." He turned to me again, looking less thrilled about our meeting. "Ponyboy." He said it like a dirty word, his lips twisting unpleasantly around my name.
My uncle headed out then, and I followed, hands in my pockets. Once we got to the parking lot, though, he turned to me. "Find your own way home. I've gotta get back to work." While not cordial, he wasn't being outright nasty, so I just nodded, that seed in my chest taking root just a little. Whatever Tim had said to him...would it make him nicer? Or, if not nicer, less violent? It was stupid to let myself hope at this point, I got that, but I couldn't help it.
I headed home, hands shoved in my pockets. It wasn't too far away, and honestly, I'd rather walk than ride with him. Besides, it wasn't so bad out. It was almost warm. I kind of wished I had a blade or something...if those socs decided to come by again, at least then I'd be ready. But I hoped they were in school...I would guess most of them were Sodapop's age...however old that was. Maybe sixteen? Seventeen? I still didn't know how old anyone was. Guess it didn't matter. But it seemed like the kind of things friends knew about each other...if that's what they were. Maybe. I'd never had friends before, so it's not like I would know. I figured I was jumping the gun, though Who said these guys would want to be friends with me?
It was about 11:30 and I was only a block away from the school when a car raced by, then squealed to a stop in front of me. I started to back away from the road, glancing at the alley beside me and about to make a run for it, but the car didn't look like it belonged to a rich kid. Then the driver's window was rolled down and Steve Randle stuck out his head. "Hey, kid!" He called, leaning his elbow on the window and grinning. "Fancy meeting you here." I smiled a little, relieved as I ambled over to the car.
"Hey." I nodded to Two-Bit who grinned at me from the passenger seat, and then Johnny who sat in the back.
"Jump in, Ponyboy. We're headed to the DX to see Soda on his break." Two-Bit called. I started to shake my head, but Johnny pushed the door to the back seat open and scooted over. "Get in, kid." He ordered again, jerking his head toward the back seat, and hesitantly I did, folding myself into the back seat next to Johnny and closing the door. "What were you doing out here, Pony? Thought you were gonna stay at my place." Two-Bit wondered. I was kind of worried he'd be mad, but he seemed pretty calm, grinning easily.
"Figured I ought to head home. My uncle brought me...got me registered for school." I decided not to mention Tim Shepherd.
"Couldn't bother giving you a ride home?" Steve asked. I shrugged, not meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.
"He had to get back to work." I felt stupid defending him, but I did it anyway.
"So you're gonna be in school with us from now on? What grade are you in?" Two-Bit wondered.
"9th," I told him, not mentioning the fact that my teachers at my old school had been talking about moving me up.
"Freshie, huh?" Two-Bit turned around in his seat, grinning. "Johnny and Steve are juniors. And me...I'm a super junior." I blinked at him, then glanced over at Johnny who nudged me.
"That just means he flunked last year and had to take it over." He told me in a stage whisper, and Two-Bit reached back and swatted at him, laughing. He didn't seem offended so I grinned a little.
"When do you start?" Johnny asked, his voice softer than his friend's, and Two-Bit turned around in his seat to listen.
"The principal said to show up tomorrow," I told him, shrugging. "Said they'd have a class schedule for me and everything."
"You had to have a meeting with the principal?" Johnny asked as we turned down the road where I'd passed the DX on my first day.
"Mr. Garrison? Yeah."
"Asshole." Steve put in from the first seat. I looked between him and Johnny who smiled.
"Mr. Garrison. Not you." He clarified, and I laughed a little self-consciously.
"He suspended me one time for defending myself against a group of socs," Steve explained in a grumble.
"You did break that guy's nose…" Two-Bit put in, and Steve punched him in the shoulder as he pulled into the DX parking lot. "Had lunch yet, Pony?" Two-Bit wondered.
I shook my head. "Nah. I'd better get home."
"How come?" Johnny wondered.
"Just…I got stuff to do…" I shrugged.
"Come on, Pony. Grab some lunch with us." Johnny invited with a grin, jerking his head toward the DX. Two-Bit and Steve were standing over by the gas pumps, waiting, and I sighed, feeling like I was getting sucked in and I didn't know what to do about it…or if I even wanted to do something about it.
"Yeah…okay." Johnny nudged me with an elbow, still grinning, and I let myself smile back, following him as we headed over to the DX to join his friends.
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