"Get in. Now." Momma's nostrils flared as she jerked her thumb towards the back seat. Her huge shades were slipping down the bridge of her nose and her hair was dishevelled. I reached out absentmindly and pushed her hair out of her face. She kept her face stony and if I had to play poker against her I knew I would lose. I know when to give up though; Momma wouldn't accept forgiveness of a kind word or gesture. I opened the rusty door and plopped on the dirty seat. There were about five cars behind us, all rusty and in need of a carwash. It's pretty lousy when you can actually tell if people are poor or rich. I know I can. It sounds like such a snobby thing to say but I just notice that if someone is wearing dirty clothes or too small shoes. It's not like I look down on them or anything; my newest sneakers are a year old.
I looked in the rear view mirror hesitantly. Momma didn't look back at me but she pushed her big endless glasses up on her nose again and frowned harder. It felt like a slap in the face. Momma and I got along always. What happened to "As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"? What a load of bull. Basically, Momma was mad at me because I had smoked a cigarette. One measly cigarette! I never get mad at her, at least not to her face! It ain't like she's some saint or something with her slim pickings and emotional range of an ocean. Clear skies one day, stormy the next. I pride myself on being level-headed. Teachers always tell me how consistent I am, and how they can count on me from regularity. I'm proud but at the same time I sort of resent that. I kind of want to be one of those kids without a care in the world. No one to please and no expectations.
I hope that doesn't make me sound awfully foolish, wishing for things as silly as that. I know I ain't foolish.
As much as I detest having Momma mad at me, I was not going to surrender first. She reached over to the smashed up radio and tuned it to some crappy station.
"Blue, blue, bluuuuue! That's how I am without youuu!" A silky voice filled up the car. I scrunched up my nose; I hate cheesy love songs! Momma knows that more than anyone else too. Fine, two can play this game. She smiled smugly, like she was defying me and getting revenge. That the best you can do, Momma? Play some music at me? I leaned against the window. I slowly shut my eyes to block out General Gray's incredible shrilly song. And to formulate a plan.
We drove past Soda's house. Pounding music seeped out from the windows. Smoke escaped as well, followed by the sound of a smoke alarm and shouting. Yep, I reckoned that those boys were still there. Either that or an Indian powwow was going on. Ponyboy was still sitting there, on the porch, smoking what looked like his fifth cigarette. Those cigarettes would be the death of him! His eyes and ears perked up when he recognized the familiar rumble and roar of my old car. He looked up as Momma came out, teetering on her high, high heels like a person on stilts. I groaned and smacked my for head. This wasn't happening! The last time Momma tried to "talk" to my friends we ended up getting a stone that said "SKANK" on it thrown through her bedroom window. Such a lovely housewarming gift it was.
Momma awkwardly pulled her stilettos out of the grass and tried to pat down weeds on the holes, to make the little bullet sized gaps in the ground she had left behind less visible. If it wasn't so humiliating, it might actually have been a bit funny. Ponyboy evidently though so too; he faked a cough when Momma almost lost her balance for the second time. I had rolled down my window all the way, but I still couldn't hear what they were saying. Momma awkwardly plopped down beside Ponyboy, trying not to reveal her underwear from underneath her short dress. She smoothed down her hair sprayed curls and straightened her huge frames. Ponyboy looked at her expectantly and offered her a cigarette. She looked up at me, clearly torn between taking up his offer and coming off as a hypocrite to me. In the end, she waved his hand away like it was a pesky fly that she couldn't be bothered with. Ponyboy shoved the rejected cigarette back into his pants pocket. Momma started questioning him. I couldn't hear them but I could tell by the way that she stared him down and by the way that he rubbed the back of his pink neck awkwardly. Momma motioned animatedly with her hands and raised an eyebrow at his response. Good lord, I would never be able to live this down! Oh Momma!
After about five more minutes of wrecking my life Momma attempted to stand up. She sort of pushed off of the ground and fell back down again. Ponyboy bit back a grin and being the gentleman that he is, tried to help her get up. He ended up awkwardly pushing up on her bum. He blush deep pink and let go as if the back of her skirt was on fire. She promptly lost her balance and fell onto his lap with an undignified screech. I rolled up my window and laughed as loud as I could since Momma nor Ponyboy could hear me. They looked ridiculous! Momma did some kind of shimmy off his lap that set his face bright as a lobster again. She held her head high and walked back to the car, where I was residing; stopping to jerk the heels of her shoes out from the dirt and grass, ruining the lawn as she did so. I could hear her facetious shoes drawing closer to the green old junk machine. Click- Clack! Click- Clack! I put on my best poker face and stared at the back of the passenger seat rather than look at her directly. As stupid as she had been, I really was still angry at her. Angry for writing to Lou, angry for trying to charm Darrel, angry for sending out Darrel to look for me, angry that she tried to tell me who I can and can't be friends with and angry for embarrassing be like that! That's a whole lot of angry.