Chapter Eleven
Day 4 : Start
Angela wakes to a soft knock on the door.
This morning, she's not disoriented. She remembers she's at the Curtis house, remembers what she did all day yesterday with Ponyboy. Only, this morning, it's not the sunlight of noon that meets her eyes. The sun is still rising, staining the room with pink and orange. It bleeds through the curtains.
Ponyboy opens the door, then, and sticks his head inside. "Hey, Angel?"
"Yeah?" she asks, shaking the sleep-mussed hair out of her eyes.
He enters the full way. "Morning."
"Morning."
"So, I gotta go to school today - Darry's making me. You don't have to come, but he and Soda are heading off to work. You'd be alone. Either-"
Angela interrupts him. "I do go to school sometimes, you know."
A blush creeps up his neck. "I know. Just sayin.'"
She would joke around with him more, but she's still mighty tired. "Thanks," she amends. "I guess I'll go, then. Don't wanna stay here alone in someone else's house." As Angela slides out of the spare bed, she realizes something.
Clothes.
She's in the same outfit she wore since Tim kicked her and Curly out. It was wrinkled yesterday, and now it's dirty from the forest. It smells of leaves and dirt. And sweat. There is no way she's going to school like that. No matter how she acts around Pony, she is still Angela Shepard. She still has a reputation to maintain. She's not losing her status because of some moss and a bitchy older brother.
Ponyboy's eyes follow her gaze, noticing the state of disarray her clothes are in. "You don't have anything else?"
"Nope, and I ain't taking my chances that Tim'll be at the house."
He swallows, scuffs his foot uncomfortably, and says, "You could wear some of my mama's old stuff." He doesn't tell her to come with him, just leaves. She follows instinctively. He ends up at the door to the last room down the hallway. It's closed, as if in reference. When he opens it, it squeaks.
Inside is a scene like in a tableaux, perfectly preserved. A made bed. Clock ticking on the wall. Curtains open to expose light peeking through the blinds. It looks like someone comes in here and dusts the place, because the wood of the nightstands shines.
Ponyboy makes his way to the closet in the far corner, pulling it open. A clean split down the middle separates a woman's clothing and a man's. All of it is very nondescript, nothing flashy. Nothing expensive. "We couldn't sell any of this," he whispers. "Some of it even smells of them."
There's such longing and sorrow in his voice. Angela can't empathize. All she's ever known is her drunk father and their long list of stepmothers. She believes she's on her third. The woman likes to scream and wander around in scanty clothing. Her daddy sure has a taste for women he ain't able to handle.
But she can sympathize. She sees how this room affects Pony. She can't do that to him. "What did she hardly ever wear?"
"Huh?"
"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna wear something that your mama loved. Something that you saw her wearing. What did she never touch?"
Ponyboy sifts through the hangers, pushing clothes aside. "These," he says, gesturing to a small section of things. "And ... thanks."
"Welcome," Angela says, looking through the remanining options. She ends up with something plain. It's not by any means in style, but it doesn't look old. She wouldn't mind being seen in public with this, though it ain't gonna make the guys come to her like flies, as some of her own clothes do. Seeing the sort of things Mrs. Curtis wore, she appreciates Pony's mama even more. "This is good."
They leave the room, and Pony shuts the door quietly behind her. Angela goes back to the spare room, and he heads to the kitchen while she changes. When she emerges to join the Curtis brothers, she stops in the bathroom to take a glance at her reflection. She looks almost respectable. It seems foreign on her, and she feels strange in a dead woman's old clothes, but she doesn't look bad.
Both Soda and Darry are surprised when they see what she's wearing. Ponyboy fills them in quickly, and they nod. Darry does it stoically. Soda does with a rueful smile.
She picks at eggs and toast and realizes this is the best she's eaten in a while. Tim can't shop for shit. Curly doesn't bother. Their stepmother is too busy complaining about this or that, or doing who-knows-what who-knows-where. And their father? Give him any money, and he spends it on drink.
Angela's left to her own devices to shop unless Tim does. And their food money is always dwindling, probably at the same rate their father's drunkenness is increasing.
Soda leaves for the DX soon after. About ten minutes later, Darry loads Pony and Angela into his truck and drives them to the school. They ride in silence. Darry doesn't seem to know what to say.
Not many are there to see Angela leaving the Curtis truck. It seems that Darry is one to arrive early. Angela just follows Pony to his locker before going to her own, and she says a few words to him.
"Thanks for all of this, hey."
Pony glances up at her. "Hm? Right. Oh. Yeah. You're welcome."
There goes another blush - this time, probably at his awkwardness.
"You have first lunch?"
He shakes his head. "Second," he answers.
"Well," she tells him, grinning a little, "then I'll see you after school. Savvy?"
"Savvy."
They part ways, and Angela feels herself a little happier the whole day.
Everything is going smoothly until lunch. She's confronted by a girl who she was on good terms with the last time they made contact. It's an either-or. Sometimes, she hates the girl. Sometimes, she can tolerate her.
"Lynn saw you coming to school with Ponyboy Curtis," Carol announces. Though her voice is normally loud, it seems she shouts the fact even louder. She also manages to say Pony's name like it's something disgusting. "That true?"
"If it is?"
"What about Mike?"
Mike. The bastard decided Angela would look nicer with a black eye. "Mike was a piece of shit."
"So you go for Curtis?" Carol laughs. "Honey, you're stooping low." She pauses dramatically. "Lynn's boyfriend said that Curly said that Tim kicked you out."
"Curly wouldn't tell Lynn's boyfriend if he had."
Carol's smile is sadistic. "Oh, is that right?" The smile widens. "Angela Shepard, I don't know what's gotten into you."
As Carol turns to leave, Angela is relieved.
But the girl has one last thing to say. "And, Shepard? Don't you remember you're only supposed to come to school on Wednesdays and Thursdays?"
That bitch, Angela thinks, and is miserable for the rest of the day until history.
xxxxxx
Ponyboy is far too smart. He skipped a grade. He's in all advanced classes. Except, apparently, history. Well, how can history be advanced? It's the only class Angela has with him. She makes sure today she doesn't fall asleep during it.
He does always seemed tuned out in history, though. Maybe that's because his interests lie elsewhere. She doesn't have anything to base it on, because it's their only shared class. He's all the way across the room, in the back by the window. The teacher made sure to put her up front; with Tim and Curly before her, teachers never have high expectations.
After history, Angela quickly drops her things off at her locker and meets Ponyboy at his. He sees her and smiles. "I escaped without homework today," he says.
"My math teacher assigned something." She probably won't do it. The teachers pass her out of fear of Tim.
"You okay with ignoring it?"
"You kidding me?"
He goes on fluidly. "'Cause, I was thinking we could, ya know, go somewhere."
"Where?"
"I dunno. That park on First, maybe?"
"Sure." She notices how he's very specific with the parks. There are two in the area. The one on First is in rich kid territory. But the one the hoods own ... things have happened in that park. And the Socs never use theirs, anyway.
Ponyboy hunts down the other kid, whose name Angela now knows is Steve, to tell Darry he doesn't have homework. Then Pony and Angela leave, walking at a mild pace. He makes sure he's always in step with Angela. It's kind of sweet.
They make small talk until they're at the park, where Pony finds a bench and sits, pulling her to sit next to him. He stares off into the distance. She doesn't say anything, trying not to disturb his train of thought.
"You know Angel," he mumbles after a while, "you ain't who I thought you were a few days ago."
"I ain't who I thought I was a few days ago."
He grins at that. "I guess that's why they say don't judge a book by its cover, huh?"
"Who says that?"
"No one, I guess." Ponyboy's brows pull together. "It's just an idiom."
"Huh?"
"Nevermind," he says with a laugh. "Soda doesn't get it, either."
And that makes it a little better. She doesn't feel stupid, because she can see how much Ponyboy idolizes Sodapop. To be compared to Soda is a good thing, she knows.
"You're a good guy, Pony," she tells him.
"Thanks." Ponyboy is serious. "You dig okay."
"You steal that from somebody?" she asks. "'Cause I really don't think you'd say that."
"Um." He bites his lip sheepishly. "Yeah. From Two-bit."
Angela smiles. "Nah, it's fine. I've just heard that from far too many guys. Not half of them meant it."
"I mean it," Pony says earnestly.
He does. She can tell.
That's why she leans in impulsively and presses her lips to his. Cautious at first. She doesn't know if he wants this.
He kisses her back.
He's hesitant, too. And he's not a wonderful kisser. Perhaps passable. Still, somehow, it feels better than any kiss from some of the most experienced guys she's been with. Truer. Definitely more innocent. More meant to be. It has a purpose, and the purpose is a good one.
When she heard other girls talk about electricity in a kiss, she never understood them. Now she does. Because she literally can feel the sparks, taste the sweetness.
Damn, Ponyboy is sweet. Warm.
And when he moves his hand to touch her, it's not on her chest, under her shirt, or on her leg. It's very softly, the ghost of a hand on her arm. He's considerate. He's wary.
It's beautiful.
She's never kissed a guy who thought of her before.
They break apart. He's breathless. For the first time since her first kiss, she is, too.
"Thank you, Ponyboy," she says quietly.
"For what?"
She doesn't know exactly how to answer. She stares into the sky. Finally, words come. They don't make much sense, but she feels that she should say them. "For being right."
They're both content. Angela can feel it.
"You done that before?" she asks.
"Once. Wasn't the instigator." He pauses. "So, how do I measure up?"
Laughing, she wonders, "As a kisser?"
"Mmhmm."
She likes this daring, joking Ponyboy. "Not bad ... Out of ten, maybe a six."
"Six." He's incredulous.
"Honey, you can't think you're better than all the hoods in the city." Then she grows serious. "What we had ... it wasn't the kiss that was good, Pony. It was completely average, to be honest. It was more of the feeling that made it nice. You were actually thinking of me. I felt appreciated. You made me happy, I made you happy. Let me tell you, that's not how just any Angela Shepard make-out works."
His face is the reddest she's seen it today.
"That a good thing?"
"Yep." She grins. "Yeah, it's a great thing ... What do you say we go get us some Pepsi?"
Pony jumps up from the bench. "Let's go."