Chapter Twelve
You're like brothers. And so it's only natural you want to protect him from stuff. Some things you can manage. You won't stand for anyone laying a hand on him, or saying even a hint of a bad word.
But that day in the lot; that God awful day, there just wasn't nothing you could do.
Ponyboy had been down at the DX, asking stupid questions, going idiotically red when some cute girls came over and told him he was as good looking as Soda (Yeah, right.) And you're a little pissed. You can handle being overlooked for Sodapop, but at Baby Curtis, you draw the line.
Still, the kid hangs on despite your bad mood, and after closing, the three of you start walking home. You're having the Chevy resprayed after Tim Dumbass Shepard keyed it because you stole some hubs from a car on his street. If you'd known it was his street, you would have taken his damn hubs, but hindsight is a grand old thing.
Soda invites you for dinner, spaghetti bolognese, and he swears he won't colour it with food dye. Since your old man is on a mean streak, you accept. It's the least Soda can do since you put up with his annoying kid brother all day long. You round the corner of the Curtis' block, kicking at rocks and finishing up your Pepsi's when you see a familiar piece of clothing on the edge of the lot.
"Looks like Johnny left his jeans jacket." You stoop down, pick it up and sling it over your shoulder. But then out of the corner of your eye, something strikes you as out of place. Holding the jacket out in front of you, you suddenly see the rust coloured stains and a lump rises in your throat. If Johnny's old man has hurt him bad...
But then your eyes meet the yellowing grass, except some of it ain't so yellow. Some of it is the same coloured rust, a perfect match to Johnny's old jean jacket. Your eyes go up and over the field and your stomach plummets as you see the hunched up figure curled up in the grass. And then you hear it- the low painful groan of little Johnny Cade.
Without a word, the three of you break into a run. And Goddamn it, you will never forgive yourself for not getting there before Soda. Maybe a part of you was glad at first, 'cause Soda would know what to say in this situation, but as he turns Johnny over and you see the torment in his eyes, you hate yourself for letting him make the discovery.
Johnny's face will never be the same again. He is a mass of cuts and bruises and for a second, you think he may be dead. You hear Ponyboy gurgle in his throat beside you and you even want to shield his eyes too 'cause, Christ, the kid already gets nightmares.
You start to blame yourself for the lecture you gave Danny, the bodyshop guy, about the Chevy. If you hadn't stood there gassing for however long, then maybe you'd have got here in time, maybe you could have stopped this.
"Jesus Christ." It's Darry who skids up beside you, his face growing pale as he watches Soda cradle a semi conscious Johnny.
"What the hell happened?" It's Two-Bit now, with Dally behind him, and you wonder where the hell everybody came from. Dally starts to swear and kick at the ground, but nobody knows what to say or do. You all stand there like mutes. All of you except Soda.
"Johnny?" Soda lifts him up a little further and cradles him against his shoulder. You would have been scared to even touch the kid, the state he's in, but Soda's face is calm, his voice is steady. He shakes him gently.
"Hey, Johnnycake."
Johnny's eyes stay shut but he finally speaks up.
"Soda?"
Any one of you would know his voice in the dark, just like Johnny does. When you need back up, you wish for Dally, when you need a laugh, you call on Two-Bit, but when your whole world comes crashing down around you, the only voice you want to hear is Soda's.
"Yeah, it's me. Don't talk. You're gonna be okay." Soda's voice is soothing, his arms stay strong about Johnny. Only you can see that he is falling apart.
"There was a whole bunch of them." Johnny swallows. "A blue mustang full...I got so scared..." He starts to cry and you think you might break your own knuckles you're clenching them so hard.
"It's okay, Johnnycake, they're gone now. It's okay." Soda pushes the kid's bangs out of his eyes and holds him close as Johnny sobs into his shirt.
Bit by bit the story comes to light- he was hunting for a football when four Socs pulled up. He tried to run. They caught him. They took turns in beating the crap out of him. One of them was wearing rings.
You don't know if you have ever been so angry. Only Dally looks like he might rival you in rage although everybody is more pissed than you have ever seen them.
What strikes you as weird in that moment, is that Soda, the most expressive of you all, is the only one who keeps his own feelings out of his expression. Instead of swearing or crying, or looking sick like you feel, Soda holds Johnny real close and lifts him into his arms.
You all follow him across the lot, like some kind of convoy, escorting Johnny to the safety of the Curtis house. Inside, Soda lies Johnny on the couch and cleans him up with warm water and cotton wool. He pauses when Johnny cries out in pain, shushing him when he gets upset, holding his hand when the pain overwhelms him.
"He needs pain relief," Soda whispers to you. You've been standing around like an idiot, clutching his jeans jacket like a helpless dad in a hospital hallway. So you're thankful for something to say.
"Won't the aspirin kick in soon?"
"Won't even touch the sides. We need something stronger."
"That's all we got." Darry looks as powerless as you feel. "Maybe we should take him to the hospital."
"No!" Johnny croaks. "No hospitals."
The hospital will want to call his parents of course, and that is the last thing the kid needs. Short of knocking over a pharmacy, (which you're sure Dallas will be down for), you're stumped.
Soda screws up his face in concentration.
"Two-Bit, wasn't your Mom on painkillers not too long ago?"
Two-Bit, who has been staring at Johnny mournfully, snaps to attention.
"Yeah, she was. I think she's got some left over too."
Two-Bit's Mom slipped down her porch steps in the spring. She damaged the ligaments in her back and had been on painkillers so strong that Two-Bit and the guys had to take turns driving her to work. Even you'd done your time ferrying Mrs M back and forth, but in the current situation, you have no idea how Soda remembered that.
Two-Bit is already halfway out the door and he's back in ten minutes flat with a plastic bottle of pills. Johnny is so banged up he can't even swallow them, so Soda does what he did with the aspirin. He heads for the kitchen to liquidise them.
As Darry slips into Soda's spot beside Johnny, you finally put down his jacker and walk quietly into the kitchen. Soda is standing at the chopping board, using the flat end of his blade to grind down Mrs Mathew's pills. His face is strained as he pushes and pounds the pills, and he starts to tear up, hitting the top of the knife harder and harder.
You take his arm from behind and although you hadn't thought he saw you, he doesn't seem surprised. Instead, he just slumps over the counter, tears spilling down his cheeks.
"Hey. C'mon, Curtis." You lay a hand on his shoulder, the best you can do, but it's all he seems to need as he grips the chopping board and takes a deep steadying breath.
"Holy Christ, Steve, they coulda killed him!"
"They'll get what they deserve," you say confidently. "Someone will fucking pay for what happened to him."
He looks at you in confusion at first but then nods his head.
"I know, I know, but that don't stop him being hurt." He goes back to crushing the pills, runs the faucet, fills a glass, pours what is now powder inside. He is just getting a teaspoon from the cutlery drawer when you take the glass out of his hand.
"I got it, okay?"
"It needs stirring-" he starts but you cut him off, snatching the spoon from his hand.
"I'm stirring," you say. "Now wash your face. I'll see you out there in a minute."
You manage to find a straw and take that with the drink back to the sofa where Johnny is still groaning.
"Here, Johnnycakes," you put the straw to his lips and he gingerly sips at it. Darry moves aside, biting his lip with worry but looking relieved that he's at least drinking.
Just as he finishes, Soda comes back out and squats down beside you and Johnny.
"How's he doing?"
"Soda?" Johnny says his name again, the only name he's managed since you found him.
"Yeah, buddy, I'm here." Soda takes his hand and Johnny squeezes it. You back up out of the way so Soda can lean up against the couch and keep hold of Johnny's hand.
You feel ashamed when you think about all the times you were jealous of Johnny and Soda. You haven't been jealous for years 'cause you love Johnny, everybody loves Johnny, even mean old Dallas Winston, who is sitting in the corner, smoking furiously like some kind of movie villain.
"Bet I'm pretty messed up, huh?" You hear Johnny whisper to Soda.
"Nah, Johnnycake, you're cool."
Despite his confident tone, you don't believe him for a second.
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"Let's go for a ride." It's Dally's voice, and it surprises you that he's even stuck around. It's dark in the Curtis living room but no-one has bothered to switch on a light. Thankfully, Johnny has finally fallen into a deep sleep.
Dally is in the armchair, you and Two-Bit are leaned up against the far wall, Ponyboy is sitting in what was Mr C's chair, and Soda is asleep beside the sofa, still clutching Johnny's hand. Darry has gone to bed.
"Go where? We can't leave him." Two-Bit says.
"His meds have kicked in, he'll be cool. Darry's in the next room anyways." Dally stands and stretches like a panther, arms to the ceiling, back arched.
"I don't know," you say. "What if Darry don't hear him?"
"I'll stay with him," Pony says softly and you feel an involuntary twinge of warmth towards the kid. You could do with some fresh air on your face but no way are you leaving Soda.
"Problem solved," Darry nods at Ponyboy. "Soda, hey, Sodapop!" He crosses the room and shakes Soda roughly. You watch him come round, rubbing a hand across his eyes before remembering where he is and looking back at Johnny.
"How is he?" He mumbles, sitting up straighter.
"Asleep. Come on, get up, we're going out." Dally yanks him to his feet, but Soda still pauses to tuck the blanket around Johnny and push his hair out of his eyes.
"Someone staying to look after him?" He asks.
"Yeah, Pony," Two-Bit says, and Soda stops to ruffle the kid's hair on the way out. All the good feeling you had towards him a moment ago evaporates.
"Don't fall asleep," you tell Pony sharply from the door. Ponyboy doesn't say anything but you kind of think he glares at you a little.
Outside you pile into Two-Bit's hunk of junk and pull out into the street.
"So where we going?" Two-Bit asks, cigarette clamped between his teeth as he steers out of the Curtis driveway.
Dally is riding shotgun, staring out of the window, but suddenly leans back against it so he can see Two-Bit, plus you and Soda in the back seat.
"They think they can come round here and jump one of us? I reckon we see how they like it."
You don't have much to go on. A blue mustang and a guy with rings is pretty vague. But fuck it, you could do with kicking some ass, and it's better than sitting around looking at Johnny's battered face.
Two-Bit seems to drive around town for a million years. You go up to Soc territory, ride the ribbon, take a tour of the lake, but the only blue mustangs you see are parked up in the driveways of dark houses.
As much as Dally wants to storm inside every one, nobody else is down for it.
"This is fucking pointless," Two-Bit says. You glance at the digital clock on his dashboard. Its 1.26 and everyone is beat. Nobody says anything as he turns the car around.
"Wonder if Johnny's awake yet," Soda wonders aloud.
Dallas lets down the front window and he's staring absently out of it as Mathews pulls up to a stop light. None of you even register the red corvette across the street. You guess you and Soda aren't even visible to the kids sitting on it, but they see Dallas alright.
"What you staring at, Grease?"
Dallas' face breaks into a twisted smile and in the time you take to sit up and release your seatbelt, Dallas is across the street and dragging the Soc off the roof of his car. Two-Bit is next out of the car and you pound and kick against the broken back door, before you realise you can get out on Soda's side.
By the time the two of you are out of the car, Dallas and Mathews are fighting two guys each.
Two-Bit is slugging it out with the biggest Soc and as you cross the street, his buddy advances with a two by four piece of timber that he's dragged out of a nearby skip. That's how these cowards work. But no other Soc is hurting any other buddy of yours tonight.
You hit him so hard you are sure his jaw breaks. He falls over and doesn't get up again.
Soda tackles another Soc, rolling into the gutter with him, swinging his fists so viciously they seem to be a blur of movement. Dallas gets hold of the last guy and slams him face first into the Corvette, before repeating the action over and over.
As Soda overpowers the Soc he's fighting, he gets up, looks around and takes a step away from the mayhem. But the guy starts to climb up, and before he can launch himself at Soda, you're over there kicking him back down. And down, and down and down again.
The sirens start to echo in the distance but you don't even hear them until Soda starts dragging you away.
"Let it go, buddy. The cops are coming. Dal, Two-Bit, come on!"
Neither of them stop pounding the guys they're fighting and you realise then that the sirens are way too close and both your buddies are getting carried away.
You grab hold of Dally as Soda drags Two-Bit off and then the four of you run for the car which is still running in the empty street, with three doors open and the keys in the ignition. Two-Bit takes off at break neck speed and Dally is crowing gloriously from the front seat when Soda suddenly says:
"Jesus Christ, we're as bad as they are." He sounds as upset as you've ever heard him in front of the other two.
"What you talking about? They started it." Two-Bit points out but you don't think Soda is talking about the guys you fought.
"Started what, Two-Bit? They shout something so we beat the living shit out of them?" Soda puts his head in his hands.
Everyone is out of breath but you notice nobody's face is marked. All of y'all's knuckles are a fucking mess though. Two-Bit's are bleeding all over the steering wheel.
"They can't fuck with Johnny and get away with it, Curtis." Dallas' voice is low and deadly and in the shadows of the streetlights, Soda looks agonised.
"It wasn't them, Dal. It was a blue mustang, not a red corvette."
"Same fucking difference."
Soda sighs, a big heavy sigh.
"And I bet that's how they saw Johnny-They looked at him thought, Tim Shepard, Johnny Cade, same fucking difference."
Dally don't have an answer for that.
The car ride home is quiet, and a feeling of shame slips over you as easy as your leather jacket does. You're pretty sure if it was just you, Two-Bit and Dally, you'd still be feeling proud of yourself right now. You wonder why it is that someone so different from you can feel so much like a part of you.
Feeling that Soc's jaw break against your fist felt powerful, but now you just feel helpless.
Two-Bit drops you and Soda back at the house. Dally gets out, slams the door and walks off into the night.
"I'm gonna get on home, tell my Mom I took her pills for Johnny. Don't want her thinking I've picked up a habit. Well, another one anyway." Two-Bit's attempt at a joke doesn't provoke a smile from either you or Soda.
You stand side by side, watching Two-Bit drive away. Soda doesn't seem to want to go inside so you light two cigarettes and hand him one.
"You okay?"
He takes a drag on his smoke and shakes his head. His face is haunted.
"I don't think I'll ever forget the way he looked when I turned him over."
You won't either.
"He'll be okay. He's a tough kid." It's all you can think of to say but you ain't sure how well it's going down.
"Dally was wild, huh?" Soda says, and you think back to Winston smashing the guys head against the corvette's body work. You doubted the Soc had a tooth left in his head once he was done.
"Out of his mind," you agree.
Soda takes another pull on his cigarette and stares out into the night.
"I guess Johnny is the best friend he's got, huh?"
And as you think about Johnny's broken face being that of your best friend's, you don't think Dally was wild at all.
Fuck smashing every tooth from his mouth. If it had been Soda who'd been jumped, you wouldn't have left a breath in his body.
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