Darrel turned and smiled awkwardly at me like there was something funny about the situation. Yeah, real funny. I was lying in some grass wearing a dirty night gown. Real funny, Darrel. He held out a big white hand to pull me off the grass that I didn't accept it. Acting like I had no clue he was trying to help, I pushed myself off of the ground with my hands. I attempted to clean my night dress a bit by wiping off the dirt and mu, but only succeeded in mushing it into the fabric. I sighed and pushed a stray piece of hair out of my face. Darrel stood there silently, studying me and I marched to his old rickety truck. I opened the back door and climbed in gingerly. Darrel came around and sat in the faded driver's seat.
He patted the front seat beside him. "You know, you could just come up and sit beside me." I refused to meet his eyes. As if. I wasn't going to go sitting right up beside him like was friends or something.
"I'd rather not, Mr. Curtis," I sniffed. "You probably wouldn't want to sit beside a nigra." I lowered my gaze and looked at my feet. They were dark brown from mud and had green grass stains. I wrinkled my nose. I definetly had to shower when I got home. Darrel coughed awkwardly and I could see he was getting uncomfortable. Good. That's the way it should be. He rubbed the back of his red neck and stared straight ahead at the bumpy road. We were close to my house now.
I wonder if Momma had sent him to look for me. That's just like her. Calling up the first single guy on the block she meets and inviting him to rescue her on a white horse. I rolled my eyes. Darrel cleared his throat. I looked at him in the cracked rearview mirror.
"You don't have to call me Mr. Curtis. Heck, that's my Pa's name. Call me Darrel," He looked at me for my acceptance. I already called him Darrel in my head, but he doesn't know that. Where was his Pa anyways? With some young airhead? Hooked on some freak weed? I wasn't going to ask or nothing, just curious since Ponyboy didn't mention his mother either.
"Given the circumstances, Mr. Curtis, I think it's best that I address you formally," I told him in my coldest voice I could muster. He raised his eyebrows and turned back to the road muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Ice Queen'. Hmph. We pulled into the short driveway and I could see Momma standing there crying into a hankercheif. Wait a minut. We don't own any hankercheifs. Momma said that she did enough laundry and to just use tissues. I rolled my eyes. It had to be Darrel's. He unbuckled his seatbelt and I did the same. We stepped out of the Ford and Momma ran to hug me.
"Oh Georgie! Don't ever do that again! I'm so sorry!" She was blubbering and I felt real embaressed since Darrel was watching the whole thing. She kissed the top of my head repeatedly. "It was all just a misunderstanding! I was going to tell you all about the letters later! I swear it!" I had thought she meant that she was sorry about speaking to Lou. I was wrong. She wasn't sorry for what she had done, but for getting caught by me. I pulled away from her embrace and stalked up into my room. I looked out the window and could see her thanking Darrel finding me. She smushed against him in a hug. Darrel's eyes lit up. Momma pulled away, still dabbing at her eyes and walked back into the house. Darrel turned and watched as she stepped over a rock with an awestruck expression on his face, before heading back into his rinky dinky truck. I rolled my eyes. What a freako. I pulled a green dress out of my suitcase and threw it over my head. I ran a brush through my impossible hair and headed out the hallway.
I walked down the stairs slowly, as if to not draw attention to myself. Moma had the old radio blearing some songs that I recognized as Billy Grant Stewart. She picked up a soapy cup from the sink and sang into it.
"But baby, no baby, the grass ain't ever greener!" She wailed into the soap sudded cup. I rolled my eyes again. Momma was obsessed with listening to music when she worked. I usually didn't mind but this was getting on my nerves. I just had to get out. I shouted over the noise and waved my arms to get Momma's attention. She looked over at me and I signaled that I was going outside.
"Georgia, we don't know anyone here," She said puzzled. Right. Dang it.
"Uh, I'm going to go to—" I thought quickly. "To Keith and Aunt Rachie's place." Momma nodded happily and turned back Billy Grant Stewart so loud that I could feel the vibrations coming off the walls as I headed out the door, trying to sjake off my headache. I didn't actually where Keith and Aunt Rachie lived but I knew the general direction; I have a pretty good sense of direction. I kept walking and humming an old tune to myself. I thought a bit about Lou and wondered where he was now. I didn't like Darrel but I'd rather him than Lou. I imaingined mymother walking down the aisle beaming and happiest I've ever seen her. Lou didn't fit in the picture somehow. I could picture him drunk in the streets or in an old bar smoking some grass. But not with my mother. I shuddered at the thought.
I snapped out of my thoughts and saw Keith's and Auntie's house up ahead. I walked up and was about to just walk in since their door was unlocked. My manners got the best of me though, and I rang the doorbell instead and walked patiently. When no one answered I knocked a little harder and peered in the window.
"They ain't home," growled a voice behind me. I whirled around and saw the scary tattooed boy standing on the sidewalk, with his arms folded menacingly. I gulped. I didn't want to strike up a conversation with this character. I stepped forward tentively.
"When will they, er, be back, Mister?" I asked meekly. I could feel my face turning red and my hands trembling slightly. The boy took a slow drag on a cigarette he had lit casually. The smoke danced around the warm air like a carefree bird. He took another puff of smoke before answering my question.
"Hell if I know," He muttured. "Two-Bit could be anywhere and his Ma's at work." Two-Bit? Keith's cat? I scratched my head and felt confused.
"Two-Bit?" I repeated stupidly. What about Keith? Tatto guy chuckled and raised an eyebrow. He took another puff of smoke lazily.
"Sorry, I mean Keith," He smirked before turning away and sautering down the cracked sidewalk. I stared after him like an idiot. Keith goes by Two-Bit? Huh. To each his own, I suppose. I started back down the sidewalk going the opposite direction as tattoo guy. I vaguely noticed that my hands were still shaking slightly. Funny, the effect that some people have.