Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 37

Sarah pushed her hair behind her ear as she inspected the menu in front of her. It was a gesture she did often, Darry noted. She also crinkled her nose when she smiled and covered her mouth when she laughed. He liked noticing these things and wondered why he hadn't before.

She was wearing a light blue dress and a white cardigan, and her hair was unconfined, skimming her shoulders in soft waves. Darry had dug out his gray suit, much to the amusement of his brothers. What they expected him to wear, he wasn't sure. Soda usually left for a date in a flannel shirt thrown over the jeans he'd worn to work that day, like any typical seventeen-year-old greaser. It amazed Darry how different his outlook on the world had become once he'd hit twenty. Suits and tablecloths would have seemed so foreign to him just a couple of years ago.

"You look nice," he told Sarah as she continued to decide what to order. She looked up at him and smiled, the flickering light from a candle on their table catching the lenses of her glasses.

"Thank you, you look nice, too," she said, again tucking that errant lock of hair back.

"Thanks, so do you," he replied quickly, without thinking, and then immediately fought the urge to slam his forehead onto the table. He'd already said that, hadn't he? Sarah laughed softly but didn't say anything. Apparently she'd noticed his blunder - of course she had. Suddenly he was acting about as smooth as Ponyboy on his first date.

He couldn't think of what to say next, how to cover up his mistake. He was saved from having to come up with would have most likely been an awkward transition when their waitress appeared next to their table. When he had called Sarah after he and his brothers returned from their fishing trip, she had suggested they go to a small, family owned Italian restaurant that she knew well. An image of Sarah at Buck's flashed through his mind, courtesy of Soda, and he immediately agreed to her suggestion.

The place was nice - rustic and warm. It was the kind of place his mom and dad went to on their anniversary. A nice treat where they could pretend for a while that they weren't struggling to make ends meet.

"What can I get you tonight?" the waitress asked in a cordial tone and then proceeded to rattle off a list of the specials for the night. Darry was only half listening as he quickly scanned the menu. The prices weren't bad, but he couldn't help calculating how many hours of roofing equaled that lasagne. It was a habit - an annoying one, as Pony felt the need to constantly point out - that he couldn't break. In the end, a tiny voice - one that sounded suspiciously like Sodapop - told him to quit worrying and he wound up ordering the lasagne. It was either that or a salad and if anybody he knew ever found out he'd ordered a salad, he'd be dead meat.

Sarah ordered and the waitress left with the menus, and she seemed to take all the topics for conversation with her as well. Sarah sipped her white wine and Darry idly swiped at the condensation forming on his beer bottle. They sat like that for a couple of minutes, neither one saying anything. Finally, Sarah broke the silence.

"So," Sarah started just as Darry took a swig from the bottle, "I understand you're the toughest guy in a rumble."

He almost choked on his beer as he sputtered, "w-what?"

She was grinning, a look that made him think immediately of Two-Bit. "Toughest guy in a rumble," she repeated with a thoughtful nod. "Pretty impressive."

"Who told you that?" his eyes narrowing as his mind sifted through the list of potential suspects.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I have my sources." She said it seriously, but Darry could tell she was holding back a laugh.

Deciding to play along, he mimicked her body language, crossed his arms, and kept his face blank. "Is that so?"

"Yep," she answered. "But you'll never get it out of me."

"Oh really?"

"I'm a cop's daughter. We never rat out our sources. That's not how things are done." He wondered if she realized she'd slipped into a slight fake New York accent like one of those cop shows on TV. Now he was having a hard time not laughing as well.

Leaning forward, he picked up the silver butter knife from the table and made a show of slowly polishing it with his cloth napkin. "That's okay," he said steadily, "you don't have to say who it was. It was either Ponyboy," he tapped the knife against his index finger as though he was counting. He kept his eyes on her face, hoping for a reaction. There wasn't one.

"Or Two-Bit." She didn't even blink and he faltered for a moment.

"Johnny?" he said incredulously as he touched the knife to his ring finger. She cleared her throat and picked up a roll from the bread basket on the table, ignoring the question.

"Johnny," he repeated again and she looked down at her place setting, making a show of lining up the forks next to the plate.

"He was being helpful." Sarah didn't look up and Darry couldn't help but notice that she was blushing slightly. He had a feeling this wasn't the direction she was hoping this conversation would take. Well, it was her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. "I was, um, bugging him."

"About me?"

She nodded silently and he leaned forward in his seat. It was finally all coming back to him, what it was like to talk to a girl. The thrill of bantering and flirting. He could actually feel his shoulders relax as he saw hers stiffen. He was having fun.

"And Johnny told you I was the toughest guy in a rumble?"

A small smile tugged on Sarah's lips. "Yeah, and honestly, that took a ton of prodding to just to get that much out of him. Let's see … you take care of your brothers, you're strong, you like football, and you're good in a fight."

Darry laughed. "Just what a girl wants to hear."

"Exactly what a girl wants to hear. I take it Johnny didn't have much experience with girls before the accident?" The fire was fading from Sarah's cheeks and she seemed to be losing some of her awkwardness from moments ago.

"Nah, Johnny didn't have much experience with anything except trying to avoid his father's fists." Darry didn't mean to make it sound so dire, but there was really no way to sugarcoat it.

Sarah didn't looked shocked by his statement, just a little sad. "I'm worried about school," she said. "I don't know how he's going to handle going back."

"He's tough. He'll get through it," he assured her, but he didn't know if he believed that or not. "Ponyboy and Two-Bit are going to be there as well. Two-Bit was going to dropout and get a job, but I think he's appointed himself Johnny's personal bodyguard or something."

Sarah laughed, "he sees my parents more than I do."

"Bet they didn't know they were getting a two-for-one deal when they agreed to be foster parents."

"They don't mind. He keeps things … interesting."

The waitress appeared with their plates and the next couple of minutes were quiet as they sampled their food. It was delicious. Darry decided that even if he had to take a third job, he was definitely bringing Sarah back to that place as soon as possible.

After the initial rush of getting their food wore off, Sarah started the conversation again.

"Do you think Ponyboy would be upset if he wasn't Johnny's tutor when the new school year started?" she asked.

Darry shrugged. "Probably, but I wouldn't mind him focusing more on his own work." He stopped for a moment, his fork frozen in the air. "Gosh, that sounded harsh. That's not how I meant it," he hurried to explain.

"I understand," she assured him.

"I'm hoping he'll try out for track again. He had to quit last year because of everything that happened. Plus the editor at the newspaper has been hinting that he wouldn't mind having him stick around once school starts back up."

"That's terrific. All that will take up a bunch of his time."

"Exactly," Darry agreed. "We all want what's best for Johnny and we want to help anyway we can."

"I think a new tutor will help a great deal. He relies on you guys for a lot and I think he needs to be put in situations where he has to deal with new people, maybe something that will make him uncomfortable at first. In the long run, though, it will make him stronger."

"He'll be nervous as hell," Darry said, taking a bite of the pasta.

"Trust me, I know," she said with a grin. "Especially if I'm able to get the person I'm thinking of."

"Someone you know?"

"No, someone I was told about by a woman who worked with my mother at the hospital. This girl can use the money, she just returned home from a private school she attended last year. My mom's friend swears that she's smart and has a real good head on her shoulders."

Darry only really focused on one part of her description. "Girl?"

Worrying her bottom lip, Sarah nodded. "Yeah."

Darry couldn't help but laugh. "Lord, to be a fly on that wall …"

"Darry --" Sarah started, her tone scolding.

"You do intend for him to speak at some point during the next semester, don't you?"

"You'll just have to trust me on this. It is, after all, my job," she reminded him, pointing her fork at him as though to emphasize her point.

"Whatever you say," he said with all the sincerity he could muster, which wasn't much.

The rest of the night veered toward small talk. Darry explained his job in as little detail as possible. It bored the hell out of him and he couldn't imagine what it must be like to actually listen to someone rattle on about roofing.

Sarah talked about her job as a social worker and he found himself caught up in her passion for her work. He had a hard time reconciling the woman in front of him with the bitter woman assigned to his family who showed up on his doorstep once a month. Did that woman ever talk about helping people and making a difference? Did she ever imagine a brighter future for the kids she was placing and keeping tabs on, or was she always hard and mean?

The system was harsh - he felt it daily in his struggles with keeping his own household afloat, and he saw it daily on the streets of his neighborhood with kids placed in dangerous situations with no real way out. Maybe the system was also harsh on those working on the opposite end; he'd never really given it any thought. Maybe Sarah would eventually lose her idealism and become disillusioned and cold. He certainly hoped not.

She was just wrapping up a story about a brother and sister she was trying to place together in a foster home when an older gentleman wearing a tomato stained apron appeared at their table. "Little Sarah Martin, I thought that was you," he said cheerfully.

Sarah jumped up and gave him a big hug. "Mr. Giordano, it's great to see you. I didn't know you worked here now."

"Well, after your pop left the force, things weren't the same anymore. Plus, they wanted me to retire. I think I surprised them when I went without a fight. Olivia and I bought this place last year and it's the best thing we've ever done."

Sarah returned to her seat. "Darry, this is Sal Giordano. He and my dad were on the force together for … gosh, how long were you guys there?"

"Too long," Sal said with a laugh and held out his hand for Darry to shake. "So is this your fella? About time you settled down." Darry took his hand and cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, this is Darrel Curtis, Sal. He's a, um, friend of mine." Her smile looked strained and Darry was certain the one plastered on his face didn't look much more natural, either.

When she said his name, Sal's grip tightened on his hand. "Curtis, you say? Darrel Curtis? Same name as your dad, right?"

Darry nodded, his expression blank. "Yes, sir." He didn't know how to react, what to say.

Suddenly, Sal clamped a meaty hand on his shoulder and a solemn expression filled his eyes. "I met your dad a few times. Fine man, damn fine man."

"Yes, sir," Darry said, an unspoken note of gratitude in his voice.

Sal turned his attention back to Sarah. "How are your folks doing? It's been almost a year, right?"

"More than, actually," she answered and Darry had no idea what she was talking about. "They're fine … good, actually."

"Senseless, I tell you, completely senseless." He was shaking his head and Darry noticed that his hands were in fists at his side. "That was the one thing I could never handle as a cop, how inadequate you'd feel. Nine times out of ten, you were there to clean the mess up, not actually prevent it from happening."

Sarah shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. Darry felt useless, he had no idea what the guy was referring to and he had no idea how to get him to stop talking about it.

"I know, Sal," she said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice. Sal looked down and for a second Darry was afraid the guy was going to start to cry right there in front of the whole restaurant. Sal visibly pulled himself together and when he looked back up, the jolly smile was back in place.

"Well, Sarah, tell your folks to stop in." The waitress eased her way around him and placed the check on the table next to Darry. Before he could grab it, Sal had snatched it away. "And this is on the house."

Darry opened his mouth to argue but received a sharp jab to his shin under the table. He almost let out a yelp but caught himself in time. Sarah was discreetly shaking her head and mouthed the words "it's okay," at him. Despite the fact that he hated taking any sort of charity, he let her and Sal have their way.

They were quiet as they made their way out to his truck in the parking lot and Darry didn't say anything until they were almost halfway to her apartment.

"Back there - what was he talking about?"

Sarah sighed and leaned her head against the passenger side window. "It's hard to talk about."

"I figured as much."

"It's my brother, Danny."

"Brother?"

"He was killed last year."

Darry felt his stomach drop and his hands grow clammy. "Killed?" When had this night taken such a dark turn, he wondered.

"Wrong place at the wrong time." Her voice was curiously flat. "That's what the police said. Hell, if my dad had been on the case, he would have said the same thing. It was a convenience store. Some gang members were robbing it."

Darry immediately thought of Dally running down the street, waving his gun in the air, daring the police to shoot him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"When? I don't remember --"

"You wouldn't have heard about it. It happened in California. My brother was in law school." She laughed bitterly. "He would have graduated in May. Instead he's dead because he needed milk."

The rest of the ride was silent and Darry figured this was probably the end of the relationship that never began. It felt like a shroud had been laid across the two of them. Between his parents and her brother, they had enough sorrow to last a lifetime.

He pulled up in front of her apartment building and turned off the truck. He walked her to the door; the awkwardness from earlier in the evening started to creep back up on him.

"So - " he began.

"I had a nice time," she said, cutting him off and he gave her a laugh that let her know he didn't believe her. "I mean it, Darry. I had a nice time."

He noticed that that lock of hair that had been troubling her all evening had fallen against her cheek again. Instinctively, he reached out and brushed it back behind her ear. He stopped, surprised to find his fingers in her hair when that hadn't even been his intention in the first place. He pulled his hand back and she smiled sweetly up at him. He wondered for a moment if he should kiss her, but he waited too long and she leaned into the door, opening it a crack.

"I had a nice time, too," he said, trying not to wince at how lame it sounded. "How about --"

"Saturday," she said suddenly. "I'm free next Saturday."

"Okay, how about next Saturday, then?"

"That sounds lovely."

Darry made his way back to the truck as she stood in the doorway, watching him. "Oh, and Sarah," he called back to her before opening his door, "make sure you're ready for an East Side kind of night."

"What does that mean?" she yelled back.

"You'll see."

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A/N - Sorry it took so long to update and that the last chapter kinda/sorta sounded like it could be the end. I didn't mean to leave everyone hanging like that. Blame Harry Potter. Throwing a midnight party for my store sapped me of all my creative energy, but I think I have it back now.

PS. This is not the end :-)