Johnny hasn't seen Dally alone since his drunken confession. Johnny knows he's partially responsible for that absence. He's gone to every tutoring session this week, starting from Monday's when he learned about exponents, until Friday's, when Randy spent the lesson on a long tangent about how the "Algebraic concepts" Johnny is learning relate to Physics. Physics is a subject Johnny never imagined he'd be smart enough to take. It's Earth Science for kids like him.

Randy's a conceited, intellectual, privileged jock. Being tutored by him is uncomfortable for Johnny, at best. Those facts haven't changed. But for the first time in his life, he's avoiding Dally and hanging out with a Soc, instead of the other way around. It's a relief he doesn't have to face Dally. He couldn't bear it if Dally looked at him differently, with the disgust that Johnny feels for himself.

If Dally misses him, he hasn't mentioned it. He hasn't been around to mention it. Even though before that night at Buck's Dal and Tim were at each other's throats, they're suddenly paling around again like they're best buddies, which means Dally been spending less and less time with the gang and more and more time cooking up trouble with Tim. Johnny tells himself he's not hurt.

But Friday, when Johnny's exiting the school after his lesson with Randy at his side (still jabbering on about some ball-moving-in-space nonsense), a fancy yellow jacked-up Douce Coupe-just like in that obnoxious Beach Boys song that was played on the radio nonstop three summers ago-is waiting in the school parking lot. It honks at him.

Dally's inside of it.

"Hey kid, get in!" Dallas shouts at him out the window. He honks about six more times, just to be annoying.

Randy raises his eyebrows at him. "Friend of yours?" he asks. He doesn't suppress the sarcasm.

"What's it to you?"

Randy shrugs. "Nothing." He does that thing where he checks on his collar to make sure it's in place. Johnny's noticed that habit of his. He does it whenever he's holding back from saying something. But Johnny doesn't know why he bothers. Randy ain't exactly shy. He goes ahead and says it anyway.

"Is that Dallas Winston?" There's caution in his voice.

"How do you know Dally?"

"I don't, not really. But I know his reputation. You shouldn't hang out with trash like that."

Johnny's body tenses. The lingering guilt he's felt for taking these lessons, for being a traitor-because he is a traitor, to accept help from a Soc-returns in full force.

"If Dal's trash, I'm trash. He's my buddy. We're the same. You got it?" Johnny shoves him. Randy steps back from the force, but just barely.

He doesn't hit him back. He doesn't even seem affected by Johnny's reaction. He rearranges his sweater vest as if he had just been touched by one of the unwashed masses and frowns down at Johnny. "You're not like him," he says, a hint of snobbish approval in his voice.

"One day, I will be," Johnny insists. He turns from Randy and starts descending the long line of steps away from the high school. Behind him, he hears Randy speaking under his breath.

"I sure hope not."

#

"Where'd you get the car?" Johnny asks.

"I borrowed it." Dally grins. Johnny grins back. Even as scared of the police as he is, he can't resist a hot, fast ride.

"Got you a present, too." Dally sounds ridiculously happy about something.

"It ain't my birthday." Johnny runs his hands along the smooth leather of the seat. Dally's not mad at him anymore and the world is perfect.

"Yeah, well, let's pretend it is."

"Where is it?"

"You just wait, Johnnycake. It's gonna change everything." Dallas zooms off, burning rubber. Just like in the song.

Ten minutes later, the house he pulls up to is unfamiliar.

#

She looks to be in her early thirties, about his mom's age. She's pretty, even if the familiar lines on her face reveal thirty years of hardship. Her hair is a shade of red that doesn't exist in nature, and it's sprayed up in a stiff bouffant like the First Lady used to wear. She's wearing a glittery gold dress that clings to her body. It's so short it rides up her thighs.

"I didn't expect you to look this sweet," she says. She's smiling at him, half seductive, but her mouth is also kinda pinched in the way adults mouths get when they are amused by children. "You know, your friend must really like you to go to all this trouble."

Johnny doesn't make a move away from the doorway. He desperately wishes Dally hadn't shut him in. "Hi," he says.

When she stands up off the bed she doesn't bother to straighten and pull down her skirt like most girls would. "You're cute," she says, stepping towards him, her hips swaying in a practiced manner. It almost looks like she belongs on stage. "Most of the guys I meet this way are creeps." Johnny wishes he could back away, but there's no where to go.

She touches his shoulder and lets her hand graze down his arm. Johnny turns his face away.

"It's okay. You don't have to be shy with me. I'll make sure your first time is real good. The best." She looks sad. Like she's said this too many times before.

He knows if he stays any longer, he's going to try to force himself to do it, to make Dally happy. And he doesn't even know if forcing himself would work. He would do anything for Dally. He would kill for Dally. Shoot. He would live for Dally. But he can't do this. He wants to die. To die of shame right there.

"I'm sorry," Johnny says. "I'm sorry." His hand is on the doorknob behind him, and a second later, he's out the door.

#

"That cost me fifty bucks!" Dally bangs his fist on the steering wheel. "Jesus, Johnny. You know how long I've been saving that with the bills I have to pay? We need a safety net if one of the boys ever gets in trouble, and I just wasted it on you. You know I only get so much from riding those ponies. Now get in the car!" It's a command this time. Not an invitation.

Dally can be pissed off all he wants. Johnny's pissed off right back. "How could you do that to me?" Johnny accuses. He kicks the passenger door. "I told you! I told you I didn't want to."

"Quit acting ungrateful. I go outa my way to help you-"

"You went outa your way to help yourself, Dallas." Johnny has never spoken back to Dally before. Never. He reckons now is about as good a time as ever to start. "Just 'cause you don't like what I am doesn't mean you can force me to change it. I don't like it either, okay? But I'm stuck like this."

"I swear to God if you were anybody else I'd beat the living shit out of you."

"Go ahead," Johnny offers. "Do it."

Dally gets out of the car and slams the door. The whole car shakes.

Johnny balls his hands in fists. There are tears in his eyes, but he doesn't drop them to the ground. He doesn't cower.

Dally balls his hands into fists as well. They circle each other. They both know who is going to win. Johnny figures he should get in the first punch, so at least later when he's licking his wounds he can still keep a shred of his self respect.

Johnny aims, but Dally blocks it and shoves him to the ground. He doesn't get on top of him and pound him, which is usually the next step once someone's down. Instead, he steps back. For the first time in his life, Dallas Winston actually shows self-restraint. Johnny gets up, and gets back into a fighting stance.

"Come on," Johnny goads. "Don't hold back." He's never been angrier. Johnny aims at him again. This time, instead of merely blocking the punch, Dally grabs his arm, twists it, and flips him over onto his back.

"Give up!" Dally demands. He steps away from him again.

Johnny's pulling himself up, ready to go at it again, when Dally grabs him by his t-shirt and shoves him against the car, pinning him there. "Do you want me to beat the shit outa you?" Dally asks. Their noses are almost touching.

Dally's eyes are red. His cheeks are wet.

Johnny swallows and looks down. He's so confused. Maybe he would feel better about things if Dally did beat him up. He's ruined everything, forever. He should have never let Dally know the sort of person he truly is.

Dally shoves him against the car again and backhands him. It leaves a sharp sting on the side of Johnny's face. But Johnny knows it wasn't half as hard as he could have hit him. He's seen Dally fight. Many, many times.

"I asked if you wanted me to beat the shit outa you."

"I don't know."

"That wasn't meant to be a real question." Dally's arms are still hard on him. But his voice is soft. He steps back from Johnny. He drops his hands to his side. He kicks up the dirt with his cowboy boots.

"A rhetorical question," Johnny mumbles.

"What?"

"Randy said questions you don't need an answer for are called rhetorical questions."

It's silent for a few seconds. Dally speaks first. "Look, Johnny. I ain't exactly angry at you."

"Sure looks like it."

"Okay. I am. But it's more than that." Dally gives him a helpless look. He's never looked helpless before. Johnny wouldn't have thought it was possible.

"I always thought... I always thought I could take care of you. Give you everything you needed. Make your shitty life as good as possible. Maybe even make you happy. Protect you or something, I don't know, man. It's stupid. I should have never let myself get sentimental. But the point is kid, I was wrong. Dead wrong. I can't make this okay."

"I'll never be what you need me to be," Johnny says. To himself he thinks, I'm disgusting.

"Naw, kid, that ain't it," Dally answers. "I mean, I don't like you being queer. But I'll get over it. What I won't get over is, is... I'll never be what you need me to be. You dig?"

Johnny's breath goes out.

"What?" Dally smiles, but there's joy to it. "Did you think I didn't guess who you want the minute I figured out what you are?"

Dally knows. He knows not only how Johnny feels about boys, but how Johnny feels about Dally himself.

"I guess what I was doing here today... I was hoping it could make you normal, if you only gave it a shot. You're my buddy. And I can't...I can't give you what you need from me. That kills me."

For the most part, Johnny could suppress his feelings. He told himself they weren't a big deal. He told himself it was a stupid, childish idea he'd grow out of. And as long as Johnny convinced himself Dally never really cared about him anyway, it was somehow okay. He spent so much time with Dally, maybe because he wanted to force Dally to care, maybe because he wanted to prove to himself that Dally didn't care.

But Dally cares. And Johnny cares. And Dally is right. He can't love him the way Johnny needs him to.

As long as it was a secret, Johnny at least had the fantasy that they could be together if only. He could have lived the rest of his life, never dating, never having sex, never searching for intimacy in anyone else, so long as he had that dream. A thousand times he's imagined a different outcome to Dally's discovery. An outcome where Dally takes him in his arms, and confesses his love, and the two ride away in the sunset. That cheesy. But now that it's all out in the open, and now that Johnny knows for sure it will never happen, he's lost even the fantasy of their future.

For some reason, it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It's almost like he feels…relief.

Johnny gives Dally a sad smile. "Don't be so cocky, Dal. I'll get over you." When he says it, he knows it's true. Eventually he will.

Dally gives him a half-hearted friendly punch on the arm. "Want a cancer stick, Johnnycake?" He holds out the open pack towards him.

He takes one from the pack, puts it in his mouth, and Dally holds the lighter to the end. Johnny takes a satisfied puff and pulls the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Now that's a proper present." He smirks at Dally.

Dally smirks back. The two of them are gonna be okay.