"Hey, Pony." I mumbled, wincing at the pain in my mouth as he crouched down next to me. "What're you doin' here? Darry's gonna be pissed." So glad to see him, even if it'd only been a day.
"Don't talk, kid, it'll only make things worse." My vision came into focus and disappointment washed over me when I saw it wasn't Ponyboy, but Jake. Tears started at the corners of my eyes. There was no way to tell how long I'd been lying there. We must've been the only one up because we were alone; the rest of the ranch was still quiet. Jake pulled me up into a sitting position next to him on the ground. His jeans were dirty.
"You're all right." His voice was just a whisper, like he didn't want anyone else to hear. Soothing, secretive.
It came outta nowhere; I just started laughing--or maybe it was crying--and I couldn't stop. His hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently, like a girl's.
"I'm sorry, Johnny." My name sounded so nice when he said it. I wanted to hear it again, it was the first time he'd used it. He smoothed my hair against my face, his thumb tracing my eyebrow. Not knowing what else to do, I let him. I didn't care, anyway. Seemed like everyone'd been getting their fair share of touching me. Why did I fall in love with anyone who noticed me?
"What're you sorry for?" It was really kinda funny, but he wasn't getting it. "This's how you want it, right? Don't you feel better now that I got what was comin' to me?" I was sorry I'd gotten into Shepard's car the day before. I was sorry I'd followed Dal up the stairs. I was sorry I'd gotten out of bed. What'd Jake have to be sorry about?
"It ain't like that."
I didn't bother believing him. "What makes you so special, anyway?" I glowered at him, at his hands, coughing. I pulled my legs up together, blocked him out. "It ain't fair, it ain't!"
Jake had soft looks that softened even more at the sound of crying. "What're you talking about?"
"Whaddya mean what'm I talkin' about?" I hated him. "He tries to ditch me after one go but don't mind hanging around you? You don't know 'im like I do, you don't deserve it, you didn't want it as long as me!" Yelling like that was startin' to make me dizzy. I rested my forehead against my knees, breath hot against my arms.
"You aren't the only one who admires the guy, Johnny." There was my name again. Johnny Johnny Johnny. "An' you aren't the only one he took off on, either."
He sat there, listening to me crying for a few minutes, saying nothin'. "Where's it hurt?"
"Everywhere." My head hurt, my chest hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt. All I knew was how to hurt. I wiped my eyes on the back of my arms but it didn't do much good.
"Think you can get up? It ain't far to my truck." Hands at my elbows now, urging me to stand. "I don't know where the nearest hospital is, but I can get you home so your folks can take you."
Pulling back, like a little kid refusing to go to bed for a babysitter. "No hospitals." I've seen the way doctors look at me. Socs in white lab coats, lookin' down their noses at me like I'm not worth the stitches, the bandages, the pain killers. "And I can't go home." I tried not to picture what'd happen if Jake dumped me off on our front porch.
"All right, but at least lemme take a look at you. I'm no M.D., but I've got a first aid kid in the trunk." Close became closer as he shifted so he could slip an arm under mine, hoisting me up and letting me lean against him. We started towards the stables where an old, red pick up was sitting in the shade. He let me down to dig through the covered trunk.
I pressed my cheek against the cool metal of the bumper, so good against the brimming headache threatening to spill over inside my skull.
"Hey now, don't bleed all over it, I just washed 'er." It obviously wasn't true. Heaving the kit out from under a pile of tools, he knelt down next to me again. Hissing under his breath, it was clear he didn't know where to start, couldn't decide what was hurt worst. "Shit, kid. He really did a number on you," he mumbled, shuffling the kit's contents around. It was almost empty; plenty of people must've been tossed around a lot in the rodeos over the years.
My eyes flicked up to his face as he leaned forward to peel my shirt--his shirt--back, making a face when he saw the marks Dally's boots'd left behind, but I was used to people making faces at my bruises, cuts and breaks. A sharp pain made me sit up straight when Jake started dabbing at the blood soaking into the shirt. Gentle but insistent, he put a hand against my chest to hold me still. I clenched my jaw, trying to worry more about what he was talking about than the pain, watching him through watery eyes.
"Stop lookin' at me like that already."
"What happened between you and Dal?" Since we were so suddenly alike, since he wasn't angry or avoiding me anymore, I took a chance and asked. He opened his mouth, to make an excuse. "And don't tell me 'nothin',' okay? I'm not stupid."
He heaved a sigh and pushed aside whatever he wanted to say instead, rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. "We messed around after a rodeo one time... about a year ago."
There it was, the truth the three of us'd been dancin' around since the day before. It felt like I'd been turned inside out.
"It just kind've happened, I don't think either of us planned on it." I gulped, held my tongue. "He took off on me and didn't come back for weeks. When he finally did, he tried to convince me he'd been drunk, like it wasn't his fault, y'know? He played it off like it wasn't a big deal." Jake made another face, this one for a different reason. He kept wiping at the blood, mindful of the bruises. "But then it happened again. And again, and again. I know I don't know you real well, but I just didn't want him to do it to you, too, 'cause it hurts, wantin' somethin' from him he doesn't want to give you." He meant it, and closed the kit in frustration. "You've gotta get this looked at, I can't do shit with what I've got."
I shook my head, wiped at new tears.
"Don't be dumb. You're lookin' at some nasty bruises and a broken rib or two, and you can't stay here, so there's gotta be some place else you can go." I didn't want to stay there anyway, not if I could do anything about it. Then it hit me. Of course.
"I know a place."
Jake slipped an arm around me and let me lean against him, slammin' the car door behind him. Climbin' those porch steps was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life; it took forever to set one foot in front of the other, from step to step. The world spun. Jake knocked solidly on the front door, holding the screen ajar with a foot.
I wanted to tell him it was unlocked, but before I could open my mouth, Darry's voice came from inside. "It's open!" I could hear the tv. Jake shifted his weight and pounded on the door again.
Ponyboy answered the door, pushing the screen open. He and Jake really did look alike. It took him a second. "Johnny?"
"Here, take 'im. My arms're killin' me." The ground moved and I stumbled from one pair of arms to another. Pony steadied me
"What happened to him?" I felt his voice vibrate in his chest, tried to get a better hold on the ground.
"Who's out there?" Darry's voice, coming from inside but getting closer. "Ponyboy? Oh, Christ..."
"What's goin' on?" Soda shoved between his brothers, eager to see what everyone was looking at, but stopped short when he saw Jake.
Jake's light brown eyes focused on Soda and a smug look came over him. "Hey, Curtis. Didn't know there were so many of you. This the whole litter or you got more chained up in the back yard?"
Darry was eying Jake with complete mistrust, and Pony didn't seem to like him much, either. I'd never heard anyone talk to Soda like that before. He seemed real uncomfortable; he only put on that face for Socs. "Hey, Jake."
"What happened?" Darry's voice, angry and biting. It was nice to have someone mad for me instead of at me, for a change.
"Didn't see it myself, but looks like he got the tar beaten out've 'im." Jake sounded tired.
"I can see that, thanks. Got any idea who did it?" The way Darry asked it, that sarcastic, suspicious anger of his, made it seem like he thought Jake'd done it. One look at Pony and Soda's faces told me they were thinkin' the same thing.
Jake caught on quick and glowered. "Oh right, like breakin' the kid in half is somethin' I'd wanna take credit for in front of someone like you." Darry happened to be wearing one of his black rumble shirts. "It's Winston's fault, try askin' him."
"Dally?" Ponyboy squeaked. His fingers dug into my jacket. All I wanted was to lie down.
Darry narrowed his eyes at Jake. "Where's he now?"
"Don't know," came the answer. "Don't think any of us'll find out for a while."
Darry'd make a good cop, he asked so many questions. "You didn't think of takin' Johnny to the hospital?"
"Wouldn't let me. Wouldn't let me take him home, neither, so here we are." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Think you can take it from here? I gotta get back." Jake started down the steps at an amble with his long legs and hunched shoulders. Darry cleared his throat.
"Hey." Jake waited. "You see Dally before us, you let him know Darrel wants a word."
"Yeah," Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll tell 'im." He glanced back at me, a small smirk on his face. "See ya 'round, kid." He glanced at Soda. "Take care, Curtis." Soda didn't answer back.
The four of us watched him go. I heard the truck's engine start and roll down the driveway before taking off down the street.
Soda leaned down to my eye level, lookin' so worried that I smiled as best I could just to cheer him up. I didn't want to tell him that most of the bruises he could see weren't from that morning, but the night before. I was too scared of what he or anyone else would think if I told. I was afraid of what Dal'd do, if I ever saw him again. "C'mon, Johnny, lets get you inside." He lifted me up and I buried my head in the crook of his neck, listening to his light breathing and footsteps as he carried me inside. The screen door banged shut behind us. He was so warm against me, the soft cotton of his shirt. I smelled the fabric softener Darry used in the laundry, and felt sorry when I realized I'd rubbed blood off on him. I tried to say something but my back met with the soft cushions of the Curtis' couch and I forgot how to talk, both from the pain in my chest and the relief of finally being able to lie down. "Pony, go get him some asprin, will ya?" Someone draped a blanket over me, pulled off my shoes and tossed them aside. As far as I was concerned, this was my hospital, my home. No one took care of me, cared about me, like they did. I didn't want to think about Dally, I didn't want to think about Jake or how bad I'd fucked up anything and everything.
I was asleep before Pony came back with the asprin.
Minutes, hours, days, who knows what the hell'd passed by when I opened my eyes again? The room was dark, the only light came from the door, cracked just a few inches. I could hear voices, snippets of conversation. First Two-Bit's voice, then Darry's, and Soda's.
"Was he drunk?"
"You're askin' if Dallas Winston was drunk? It's Dallas, Two-Bit, what do you think?"
"Yeah... but Johnny?"
Silence. Hearing it aloud made it seem that much more real, 'specially comin' from someone like Two-Bit.
Then he said something that didn't make sense at first. "You think Superman ever hit that Lane broad?"
"Dunno," Soda sighed, "but maybe Clark Kent did."
Thud thud thud.
I closed my eyes.