I was tired and feeling stupid, threw my books on the kitchen table,
stormed off to my room. I didn't care that Darry and Soda were looking at
me with 'what the hell?' expressions.
This was hard and I was tired of it. Tired of the constant low level of desire I had for something I shouldn't be desiring.
Damn it. I needed a girl, some girl, that was the answer. Like Soda, so I could have a cheerful half grin on my face instead of this scowl, my hands clenched into useless fists...
Ah, but I wanted him. There was no doubt. Couldn't get the fucking kid out of my mind. Couldn't stop wanting to kiss him, to feel his tongue in my mouth, to feel the sharpness of his shoulder blades with my hands as I shoved my tongue down his fucking throat.
I glanced around, wishing I'd brought my books in here so I could at least pretend to do my homework, so Darry wouldn't ask me what was wrong.
I wished Dally wasn't in the cooler. If he wasn't I could hang out with him, it was exciting and would take my mind off fucking my best friend.
Well, too bad. His last bit of excitement had landed him in jail. Maybe I'd hang out with Two bit, drink his beer with him and feel the easy distraction of his constant wise cracks.
School night. Darry'd never let me out of the house. I must be the kid with the strictest rules and no parents in the whole fucking state of Oklahoma. Christ, Darry was stricter than my parents ever were, half the kids I knew with parents had less rules to follow than me. Damn it.
Like Johnny. He spent half the time away from his house and his parents didn't give two shits.
I tossed a little paperback that had been sitting on my desk at the door, feeling happy at the angry little thud. Of course I didn't envy Johnny any, I'd seen that pain in his eyes because his parents didn't care, only seemed to notice him if they were hitting him...
I heard the double slam of the screen door and watched Darry and Soda head to the car. Going to work. I should quit school and go to work with them, we couldn't afford college so what was the fucking point of high school?
So I left, ignoring my homework again, ignoring Darry's rule that I stay in on school nights. I thought I'd try and find Two bit, lose myself in the company of other people who were not Johnny.
I went to the little diner that served breakfast all day and sat on one of the leather swivel stools at the counter. The lady who ran it looked at me with her bleary eyes and ran a rag along the counter. No one was in here, just two old men sipping coffee.
That kid was always underfoot when I didn't care or didn't want him around but when I was actually looking...They were all like that. Hard to find when you wanted them. Like Johnny. I'd spooked him so bad he was probably at his fucking house, of all places. He'd rather be there then with me.
I hung my head, feeling sorry for myself, about to order a coffee with plenty of sugar just for the caffeine high, ready to give up on Two bit after looking just one place...
"Ponyboy?" I whipped my head up. It was Curly Shepard, punk younger brother of Tim Shepard, who Dal palled around with from time to time.
"Hey, Curly, what's up?" I liked him o.k., I guess. But I had a problem hanging out with him and I felt sorta like a snob just thinking it. The problem was he was dumb. I just felt like he never really understood anything and I'd find myself sticking to topics he might understand. It gets tiring doing that. But right about now I didn't care.
Curly usually had some dumb illegal idea of what to do and I'd have to bail since I can't get into trouble like that, what with the state just itching to take me and Soda away from Darry.
"Hey, Pony, gotta cigarette?" I nodded and pulled one out, handed it to him.
"Hey, Curly, ah, I was just leaving," He lit the cigarette, nodded, and followed me like I'd invited him along.
"You wanna crash a river bottom party the socs are having?" He had the devil's light in his eyes. That'd sure be one place I wouldn't run into Johnny. But maybe I wanted to run into him.
"Naw, man, I told Johnny I'd meet him at Benny's," Benny's was the pool hall and I was lying, of course. But sometimes a lie is out of my mouth before I know it.
"Alright, whatever," he said, shaking his head and walking away. The socs will fucking kill him.
I headed to Benny's. The lie seemed like a good idea, now it was half true. I ordered a pepsi and lit a cigarette, watched some kids hustle a pool game.
What was the use? I was as miserable here as I would be at my house. Curly's party idea could have distracted me but I'm too chicken shit to go. Anyways, I really can't stand that kid. I headed home.
It was dinner time but I'd be dining alone on macaroni and cheese since Soda and Darry both worked on Monday night.
The house was quiet and I put on the t.v. just to hear people's voices, even if they were just actors hawking soap suds and dying in cheesy cop dramas.
The macaroni and cheese was tasteless, I'm not that great of a cook. Darry is the good cook. I was good at school work. Some talent.
I dragged my books in front of me and started the homework. The math I did without thinking, really. I had a couple of essays to write and those I could really get into if the topic was interesting. I could never understand why some people didn't read everything they could get their hands on, like me. Then a couple of months ago I figured it out. They must just see the words when they read, and not see the whole thing in their head like a movie.
The screen door banged and I looked up. It was Johnny.
"Hey, man, I'm glad you're here," he said. He held a book but I couldn't see which one it was.
"Yeah, I'm here," I said, barely looking at him, feigning indifference. He sat at the table and set the book down a bit harder than he had to. It was Shakespeare, "Hamlet".
"You gotta help me. I can't understand a fucking word of this," His eyes were focused near the corner of the room and with him not looking at me I couldn't help but stare at him. I wanted to feel the smoothness of his skin, the gentle pressure of his lips against mine. I didn't want to translate Shakespeare.
I picked it up. Johnny and I were in different English classes but we were in the same grade. My class had already read it. I was surprised his class was reading it at all.
Aw, Johnny, damn it. He must be straight, completely straight, but I coulda sworn he liked it, he did. He looked all dazed when I kissed him and touched him.
Right now he was all focused on this Shakespeare. He'd understand it fine once I explained it to him. He wasn't dumb, just kinda slow to get things.
So we went over it. I was patient, patient in a way I knew many of his teachers weren't. See, they teach the shit for so long and come to know the material so well that they forget how it is to see it for the first time. Plus, Johnny gets all nervous around teachers and it's hard for him to listen and comprehend it. Then they give up on him.
It was kinda nice. Our heads leaned together over the book, my voice soft as I explain what words and phrases mean in the tricky Middle English.
. I can smell that sweet smell I associate with him, some detergent his mother uses on his clothes, and we're so close together I catch the rhythm of his respirations, the rate of his pulse.
This was hard and I was tired of it. Tired of the constant low level of desire I had for something I shouldn't be desiring.
Damn it. I needed a girl, some girl, that was the answer. Like Soda, so I could have a cheerful half grin on my face instead of this scowl, my hands clenched into useless fists...
Ah, but I wanted him. There was no doubt. Couldn't get the fucking kid out of my mind. Couldn't stop wanting to kiss him, to feel his tongue in my mouth, to feel the sharpness of his shoulder blades with my hands as I shoved my tongue down his fucking throat.
I glanced around, wishing I'd brought my books in here so I could at least pretend to do my homework, so Darry wouldn't ask me what was wrong.
I wished Dally wasn't in the cooler. If he wasn't I could hang out with him, it was exciting and would take my mind off fucking my best friend.
Well, too bad. His last bit of excitement had landed him in jail. Maybe I'd hang out with Two bit, drink his beer with him and feel the easy distraction of his constant wise cracks.
School night. Darry'd never let me out of the house. I must be the kid with the strictest rules and no parents in the whole fucking state of Oklahoma. Christ, Darry was stricter than my parents ever were, half the kids I knew with parents had less rules to follow than me. Damn it.
Like Johnny. He spent half the time away from his house and his parents didn't give two shits.
I tossed a little paperback that had been sitting on my desk at the door, feeling happy at the angry little thud. Of course I didn't envy Johnny any, I'd seen that pain in his eyes because his parents didn't care, only seemed to notice him if they were hitting him...
I heard the double slam of the screen door and watched Darry and Soda head to the car. Going to work. I should quit school and go to work with them, we couldn't afford college so what was the fucking point of high school?
So I left, ignoring my homework again, ignoring Darry's rule that I stay in on school nights. I thought I'd try and find Two bit, lose myself in the company of other people who were not Johnny.
I went to the little diner that served breakfast all day and sat on one of the leather swivel stools at the counter. The lady who ran it looked at me with her bleary eyes and ran a rag along the counter. No one was in here, just two old men sipping coffee.
That kid was always underfoot when I didn't care or didn't want him around but when I was actually looking...They were all like that. Hard to find when you wanted them. Like Johnny. I'd spooked him so bad he was probably at his fucking house, of all places. He'd rather be there then with me.
I hung my head, feeling sorry for myself, about to order a coffee with plenty of sugar just for the caffeine high, ready to give up on Two bit after looking just one place...
"Ponyboy?" I whipped my head up. It was Curly Shepard, punk younger brother of Tim Shepard, who Dal palled around with from time to time.
"Hey, Curly, what's up?" I liked him o.k., I guess. But I had a problem hanging out with him and I felt sorta like a snob just thinking it. The problem was he was dumb. I just felt like he never really understood anything and I'd find myself sticking to topics he might understand. It gets tiring doing that. But right about now I didn't care.
Curly usually had some dumb illegal idea of what to do and I'd have to bail since I can't get into trouble like that, what with the state just itching to take me and Soda away from Darry.
"Hey, Pony, gotta cigarette?" I nodded and pulled one out, handed it to him.
"Hey, Curly, ah, I was just leaving," He lit the cigarette, nodded, and followed me like I'd invited him along.
"You wanna crash a river bottom party the socs are having?" He had the devil's light in his eyes. That'd sure be one place I wouldn't run into Johnny. But maybe I wanted to run into him.
"Naw, man, I told Johnny I'd meet him at Benny's," Benny's was the pool hall and I was lying, of course. But sometimes a lie is out of my mouth before I know it.
"Alright, whatever," he said, shaking his head and walking away. The socs will fucking kill him.
I headed to Benny's. The lie seemed like a good idea, now it was half true. I ordered a pepsi and lit a cigarette, watched some kids hustle a pool game.
What was the use? I was as miserable here as I would be at my house. Curly's party idea could have distracted me but I'm too chicken shit to go. Anyways, I really can't stand that kid. I headed home.
It was dinner time but I'd be dining alone on macaroni and cheese since Soda and Darry both worked on Monday night.
The house was quiet and I put on the t.v. just to hear people's voices, even if they were just actors hawking soap suds and dying in cheesy cop dramas.
The macaroni and cheese was tasteless, I'm not that great of a cook. Darry is the good cook. I was good at school work. Some talent.
I dragged my books in front of me and started the homework. The math I did without thinking, really. I had a couple of essays to write and those I could really get into if the topic was interesting. I could never understand why some people didn't read everything they could get their hands on, like me. Then a couple of months ago I figured it out. They must just see the words when they read, and not see the whole thing in their head like a movie.
The screen door banged and I looked up. It was Johnny.
"Hey, man, I'm glad you're here," he said. He held a book but I couldn't see which one it was.
"Yeah, I'm here," I said, barely looking at him, feigning indifference. He sat at the table and set the book down a bit harder than he had to. It was Shakespeare, "Hamlet".
"You gotta help me. I can't understand a fucking word of this," His eyes were focused near the corner of the room and with him not looking at me I couldn't help but stare at him. I wanted to feel the smoothness of his skin, the gentle pressure of his lips against mine. I didn't want to translate Shakespeare.
I picked it up. Johnny and I were in different English classes but we were in the same grade. My class had already read it. I was surprised his class was reading it at all.
Aw, Johnny, damn it. He must be straight, completely straight, but I coulda sworn he liked it, he did. He looked all dazed when I kissed him and touched him.
Right now he was all focused on this Shakespeare. He'd understand it fine once I explained it to him. He wasn't dumb, just kinda slow to get things.
So we went over it. I was patient, patient in a way I knew many of his teachers weren't. See, they teach the shit for so long and come to know the material so well that they forget how it is to see it for the first time. Plus, Johnny gets all nervous around teachers and it's hard for him to listen and comprehend it. Then they give up on him.
It was kinda nice. Our heads leaned together over the book, my voice soft as I explain what words and phrases mean in the tricky Middle English.
. I can smell that sweet smell I associate with him, some detergent his mother uses on his clothes, and we're so close together I catch the rhythm of his respirations, the rate of his pulse.