Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Lorde owns "Green Light."
But I hear sounds in my mind
Brand new sounds in my mind
May 27, 1966
Friday arrived quickly, and Ponyboy found himself growing more and more ecstatic with each passing day, and now that it was the last full day of school, the teen was overly excited. He felt bad that Ella couldn't be there, even though she would be back for the four half days next week, but he actually missed chatting with her in the library during their lunch period. Instead, he hung around with the guys, much to Steve's dismay, even though the older greaser hadn't bothered to comment about his presence as much, but that was mostly because the school year was at its end.
Ponyboy was filled with a lot of emotions, the most prominent two being excitement and guilt. He still felt guilty for lying to Darry a week ago about his whereabouts and who he'd been hanging around. It was strange, he thought, he never dreamed of feeling so guilty over something so mediocre. Then again, he remembered his promise to Soda—that he and Darry would get along, that there would be no more fighting, no more disputes—and Darry had let up on hounding him, had been lenient and trusting, and Ponyboy felt that he had—in some way—took advantage of that.
A year ago, he would've let it blow over. A year ago, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. A year ago, he would have found it somewhat rebellious, but that was a year ago. So much had happened that changed the young teen's way of thinking, had shaped him into a wiser person. Now he knew what he had to do, even if he dreaded it entirely—he had to.
When Darry entered the kitchen, looking tired and stressed, Ponyboy's shoulders slumped, immediately making him feel worse than what he had been. Oh, glory, but the stress that was on his oldest brother's shoulders was worse than him carrying multiple bundles of roofing at once.
Noticing his youngest brother's look of distress, Darry's brows pressed together. "Everything okay, little colt?"
Ponyboy's green eyes shifted in Darry's direction, and he sighed. "Actually, Darry . . . no, it ain't." The older boy's expression contorted, fearing the worst, and his brother continued on quickly. "I know you're going to be mad, but I have to tell you something, Dar." He grimaced. "Last Friday night, I didn't go to the Nightly-Double. I hung out with Curly Shepard, and we . . . we went to a party."
Darry's eyes broadened, but he didn't say anything for a minute. Instead, he reached for a plate beside the sink, scooping some bacon and eggs onto it, making his usual breakfast sandwich. He turned to the fridge, opening the door, searching around for something. Ponyboy heard him release a defeated sigh, before his attention returned to his unmade sandwich again, slabbing two pieces of bread together.
"No more tomatoes?" he asked, voice casual like.
"No," Ponyboy answered, poking at his pancakes, glad that Soda hadn't dyed the batter any funky colors that morning. Then again, he had been in a rush, leaving Ponyboy behind to cook the rest of the meal while Darry took a shower.
There was a silence before Darry continued. "So, Curly Shepard, huh?"
"Yeah," he answered, almost sounding skeptical. He wondered why Darry wasn't blowing his top like he expected him to. "Look, I'm real sorry, Darry. I didn't mean to lie to you like that, and I certainly didn't mean to take advantage of your trust, either."
"And you went to a party?"
Ponyboy sat at the table, eyes moving away from his plate of food to the back of Darry's head. He was inwardly waiting for it, for him to blow up and go off about what would happen if he were caught, or if something went wrong, and everything else he was accustomed to hearing his brother explain time and time again. Only he didn't, and Ponyboy was beginning to feel a little anxious.
"Yeah," he said again, this time more quietly.
Finally, Darry turned around, an unreadable look in his green-blue eyes. "Did you have fun?"
"I—" The red-headed teen paused, unsure of how to answer. Well, he supposed he had some fun, but he wished that he'd actually gone to the movies instead. "Not really."
"Yeah, I didn't have that much fun at my first party, either," came the response, and the younger teen's head shot up as his oldest brother trailed on. "I sneaked out of my room one night in junior high, thought I was being smart and careful, but Mom . . . she always knew when something was up, always knew everything somehow." A small, barely noticeable smile brushed his lips. "When I got back home at nearly three in the morning, she was waiting for me, just sitting there at my desk waiting."
Ponyboy was staring at him wide-eyed. "What happened?"
Darry's eyes met his, the iciness seeming to melt away for a moment. "Ponyboy, I can't tell you how disappointed she looked. There was this expression in her eyes that I can't describe, but I could just tell how disappointed she was with me, and that hurt something awful." He sighed. "She didn't yell at me, she didn't scold me. She asked me one question and one question only, kid brother, and I'm gonna ask it to you the same way, only once."
The younger teen was shocked, to say the least. Darry normally didn't get like this, normally didn't let his feelings show—he was hard-headed and practical, and Ponyboy was sure at one point that he hadn't understood anything that wasn't plain, hard fact. Oh, glory, but listening to him then, just hearing the laid-back and reminiscent tone in his voice, gave him some new insight about his oldest brother—the fact that he was still just a kid himself, and it wasn't that long ago that he'd been in these same exact predicaments. He had felt guilty, too, same as him.
At his silence, Darry continued. "Is this who you want to be?"
"No," he answered almost immediately, thinking of their mother and her golden hair and her brown eyes that were soft and warm and welcoming, so much like Soda's, yet more wise and intuitive. "No, it ain't who I want to be, Darry."
The older boy nodded. "That's exactly what I said, kiddo, and Mom, she just smiled at me and told me that she knew all along . . . but what it was that she'd known, I didn't know at the time." He almost chuckled, then. "But, hell, I sure do now."
Two-Bit was smirking at Steve, who was smoking a cigarette, his face contorted in annoyance. From beside him, Ponyboy was leaning back on the hood of his car, reading a book with a content look, and Two-Bit knew that he was purposely acting oblivious to Steve's mood, but quietly taking absolute pleasure in it at the same time, not that the oldest teen could blame him. He almost wished Dally was there instead of being stuck in the guidance office with ol' Philips just so he could get a few good jabs in at their buddy.
"I can't believe it," Steve muttered, shaking his head. "The fucking thing is tonight."
Two-Bit rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit bein' so bent outta shape, Steve. Just think about how much fun you and Evie are gonna have together, huh?" And he shifted closer to the darker-haired boy, giving him a quick wink. "All that fun."
Steve, though, didn't look the least bit enthused with the other teen's remarks. "Yeah, maybe you and Gina Porter, but I really ain't into this shit."
That time, Ponyboy cut in, although he sounded more curious than anything. "Do you really hate school functions that much?"
"Yeah, kid, I really do," came the cool response, and Steve dropped his finished cigarette onto the gravel, crossing his arms over his chest. "Evie's all excited, but she knows I'm not up for it. I tried to act like I was, for her benefit, but that gal knows me too well." A sigh. "I sure as hell hope I don't ruin all her fun."
"And just how are you gonna do that?" Two-Bit inquired. "She'll be happy that you're even taking her, know what I'm sayin'?" And then he laughed. "Shoot, Steve, be glad that you even had a date to go with ya. Me? Gina Porter asked me out."
Ponyboy's brows pressed together. "You're not a senior, Two-Bit."
"Doesn't mean I can't go, does it, kid?"
Now, why in the almighty universe somebody would want to sneak into prom was confusing to the younger teen, but he merely shook his head at the thought. He actually felt sorry for Steve, but he had always been good to Evie, always did anything she wanted, too. Ponyboy might not have liked his brother's best buddy all that much, but he had to respect him.
Steve turned his attention toward Two-Bit. "You drivin' tonight?"
A nod. "Yup. I'm picking Gina up around five or so, and then we're leaving right from her house. She said her mother is gonna want all kinds of pictures, so . . ."
"God help the camera lens," Steve quipped, shaking his head as he lit up another cigarette.
The rusty-haired boy pointed a finger at him. "Watch yer trap there, Randle. I'll let Evie know that you've been a real bad boy."
Ponyboy's eyes went wide, and he felt a strong urge to step away from his friends, glad that Dallas wasn't there to hear this conversation—that would be all he needed. Still, he shook his head as Steve and Two-Bit playfully went back and forth at each other, imagining Johnny's reaction if he was still around with them.
Dallas was more than thankful that he would never have to see Philips Screwdriver again. He hated her more than anyone else at the high school, and he could tell that the feeling was entirely mutual, especially when she stared down at him like he was the most worthless thing she'd ever set eyes on. He gave it right back to her, though, glowering across the desk from her as she sorted through his file, her gaze landing on him every few seconds.
Finally, she spoke. "Well, Mr. Winston, it seems that, as of right now, you'll be passing the school year after all with a C average." When he didn't respond, she continued. "I've spoken with Miss Preston, and she relayed that you both are finished with the tutoring as well."
The blond hummed in agreement. "So's that it?"
Mrs. Philips suppressed a sigh. "Not quite, Mr. Winston. You understand that you are not going to be walking, right? You will pick up your diploma in the main office Friday afternoon, and—" She paused, looking at his file skeptically. "You weren't attending prom, were you?"
Oh, glory, Dallas could have laughed in the woman's face. He wouldn't attend any fucking prom—good Lord, but he could understand Randle's damn frustration, those things just weren't his style. He couldn't believe Philips Screwdriver was actually sitting there, high and mighty, asking him if he was going to the prom, and to top it all off, she was rereading what he'd been told at the very beginning of the school year—that he wouldn't be allowed to walk.
He didn't fucking care—he didn't even want to be there. It was humiliating, to say the least, this entire fucking thing was humiliating. Jesus Christ, but next Friday couldn't come fast enough—he wanted out.
"You gotta bolt loose if you think I'd even consider it," he said, watching as she cringed away from the harshness in his voice.
"Right," the woman said, lips curling a little in disgust. "Next week, you'll have to see Mr. Davis for one last meeting just to get you cleared up with your . . . probation."
The teen rolled his eyes. "I know this shit already, lady."
Mrs. Philips was growing annoyed with his behavior. "Then I suppose you can return to class, Mr. Winston." Her tone was awfully snarky. "Have a nice Summer."
With a bitter scowl, Dallas stood up and made his way out of her office, jamming his hands in his pant pockets. He would have told her to have a nice Summer, too, but more than anything, he really hoped that she got hit by a bus.
Ella was completely bored. There was absolutely nothing going on at the store, but she was at least a little grateful to be out rather than stuck at home with even less to do. Since she was suspended, she had asked for extra hours at work to keep her occupied—she had finished all of her assignments in the first two days of her suspension, so she was officially caught up in each of her classes, and she was finished with the extra credit as well. The only thing she would have to do was take the final quiz in biology when she returned Tuesday morning.
The girl couldn't believe that the school year was practically over, that the senior prom was that night, that she had made it to graduation—she was almost done with school. Of course, when her mother had found out that her daughter wouldn't be walking at the ceremony, she had been livid. Ella was more than humiliated when she explained the reason behind her suspension.
"Ella Louise Mitchell," Frances had yelled, shaking her head in anger. "Just what have you done?"
And the girl had only stood there like a fool, explaining that she had switched two midterm exams out of pity, and that the girlfriend of her ex-boyfriend had turned her in after eavesdropping on a private conversation between her and Ponyboy Curtis. And the thing that made it worse was the fact that her mother had nearly died of shock when she found out that Ella had been helping Dallas Winston. The blond-headed hood was notorious in town, and even though he hadn't made the papers for doing anything illegal lately, his name hadn't been tossed to the wind and forgotten, either.
"Dallas Winston?" Frances screeched. She was red in the face. "You've been . . . Oh my God!" she all but cried. "I just can't believe this. Ella Louise, what in the world were you thinking?"
Glory, but Ella could still hear her mother lecturing her over and over again, going on that Dallas was a bad guy, that she shouldn't have thought twice about helping him, and that she could just go off on Mr. Davis for ever considering on placing Ella as his tutor. Some part of Ella felt bad hearing her mother talk like that, her feelings twisting around as she thought about Dallas.
She hadn't seen the blond since Monday, and she wondered why he hadn't lashed out at her, why he blew the entire thing off like what she'd done hadn't affected him in the least. She had expected him to at least scream in her face, only he hadn't, instead complimenting her hair. The girl had flushed just remembering that, but she still hated herself all the same for thinking that way. Good Lord, if her mother only knew how she felt.
Even though the girl felt bad about disappointing her mother, the other part of her rationalized that she had served her punishment, and she didn't mind. In all honesty, walking for graduation didn't mean that much to her—she would still have her diploma, and she would still be a graduate. She had helped Dallas pass the school year as well, and even though the school year itself had been entirely crazy, an entire web weaved with absolute craziness, she was proud.
Ella smiled to herself as she made her way to the back room for her lunch break, a little sad that Jan still wasn't there so that she had some company, but the older woman would be working the evening shift that day anyway, having requested the morning off to take care of her sick daughter until her husband got home.
Taking a bite of her sandwich, Ella thought that she had actually made out okay.
Dallas had been patient, which was an uncharacteristic and dangerous combination. But he had been so patient, calm even. He waited, broodingly so, his vexation brewing beneath the cool facade that made up his exterior for the last few hours of the school day. The blond leaned back against a row of lockers, arms crossed over his chest, icy blue eyes scanning the hall for the one person he'd been looking forward to meeting up with for over a week—but he'd been biding his time—carefully, collectedly.
He spotted the brown-haired boy immediately as he headed in the direction of the exit, his head held in a proud manner, eyes glowing with excitement—probably because he was looking for a piece of action that night at the prom, the fuck. As he walked on, Dallas followed behind him, ignoring the other students who occupied the hall, too immersed in whatever they were doing to realize what was going on around them.
Patience wasn't a known trait of Dallas Winston's, but with that patience, the hood had scoped out Craig Bryant, followed him around the school for a few days, and learned where he would be at different times of the day, which had come in quite handy . . . for moments like this. Unbeknownst to Craig, Dallas followed him, only intentionally catching up to him when they were close enough to the vacant science lab.
Craig wasn't expecting an arm to drape casually around his shoulders, the intoxicating smell of tobacco and weed wafting directly into his nostrils. The blond's arm bent around the shorter boy's neck, a silent warning not to open his mouth, even though Craig felt more like he was about to choke. He hadn't expected to see Winston, and he knew that the hoodlum couldn't get into any trouble, or else he would be sentenced behind bars for five years.
Before he could say anything, though, or even wheeze, Dallas tugged him into the empty classroom, easily kicking the door shut, before shoving the boy up against the wall, his face coming within a few inches of his. Craig's eyes were wide, his breathing heavy, but he refused to cower in front of the likes of Winston—he hated him, hated him for what happened to George all those months ago, and for . . . for everything, essentially.
"What—" he went to say, but Dallas cut him off, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Relax, Fish-Eyes, we're only gonna have a little chat," he said, his voice coming out casually, which made Craig even more concerned.
His nose wrinkled in disgust as he tried to maneuver himself away from the blond. "Yeah? About what, Winston?" He ground his teeth. "I could have you expelled for this."
"And expose yourself?" Dallas taunted, and at the boy's perturbed expression, continued on. "I wanna know where in the fuck you heard that I cheated on those exams, you fuckin' prick." When Craig didn't answer fast enough, the blond's hand moved to his neck, watching as his eyes became wider and wider with each breath he took. "Well?" he growled.
Craig, unable to keep his cool with the hood's hand wrapped around his throat, cringed, and whatever pride he had for himself was gone the second he sniffled, his bottom lip trembling a bit as he turned his head the other way, complete embarrassment taking over his features. But Dallas didn't care, only baring his teeth and pressing harder, until the smaller boy caved.
"My girlfriend," he panted, trying to gasp for air. "She . . . heard . . . Ella Mitchell telling . . . Ponyboy Curtis that she . . . switched your exam . . . with . . . hers . . ."
At that answer, Dallas let up on his hold, allowing the kid some oxygen. "Your girlfriend, huh?"
Craig nodded, still panting. "She . . . heard them . . . talking about . . . it."
"And she informed Davis?"
The brown-haired boy shook his head. "I did."
Oh, he thought contemptuously, because beating the shit out of Ella Mitchell back in January just wasn't enough for him. Apparently, getting the fucker in trouble for vandalism hadn't been enough of a warning, and he just had to get his kicks in on a girl, a pathetic one like Ella, no less. Jesus Christ, he thought to himself, this guy was a real fucking sleaze, and he wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth the shit on the bottom of a shoe.
Anger boiling to surface, Dallas grabbed the other boy and slammed him back again. "You're a real piece of shit, you scumbag. What'd that girl ever do to you, huh?" He wasn't sure if he was angry that Fish-Eyes had accused him of cheating, or if remembering Ella's face covered in bruises pissed him off more than just a false accusation. Either way, he was livid, and Craig's face in his vision was coated with red—he could kill this prick. Before the teen knew what he was doing, he acted on impulse, his blade suddenly at the base of Craig's throat.
The boy was practically in tears. "I didn't mean to hurt her . . . shit. Please, man . . . let me go." He took a sharp intake of air. "I'm sorry about what happened to her, and I'm sorry she got suspended."
"Sorry, my ass," the hood snarled, spit flying off his lip. "You ain't sorry for nothin'!"
There were tears falling down Craig's face—he was sorry, really he was. "Please," he begged. "Please, man. I am sorry. For Christ's sake, don't kill me."
Dallas could have laughed at this pussy—he knew he had him, then. Fish-Eyes actually thought that he would kill him. But Dallas's blood was boiling in his veins, and he knew if he didn't let the kid go, he might actually do something rash out of impulse. Glory, but just looking at the other guy was sickening, he was pathetic, more pathetic than he'd ever thought. Well, at least he knew one thing—Craig did know the truth, that he hadn't cheated, that his girl had told him about a conversation between Ponyboy and Ella—well son-of-a-bitch.
With an irritated growl, the blond flicked his blade closed, noticing a small, thin trail of blood making its way down Craig's throat, mixing in with his tear tracks. He could have killed him, he noted, he really could have. His teeth were pressed together, lips curled back, eyes cold and unfeeling—all of his emotions were absent, except for rage, otherwise, he was completely apathetic.
Moving away from Craig, he spit at him. "This never fucking happened, got it?"
Craig nodded rapidly, his chest moving up and down as he heaved. "Understood."
Soda eyed himself in the mirror that evening, studying his face and his attire. He wanted to look good for Mary, he wanted to impress her. Golly, but he was nervous, he thought as he ran a comb through his golden hair, slicking it back with grease. He wondered what a girl like Mary saw in him—she was different than the other girls he'd encountered, even Sandy. His heart sank a little as he remembered his ex-girlfriend, remembered how she left him nine months ago.
Mary was different, he told himself, she had to be. He smiled as he thought about her—her shiny dark locks, those warm brown eyes, that olive skin . . . she was a vision. He had been so nervous about asking her out, even though she was so kind and compassionate. There was a warmth that pooled in her eyes every time she looked at him, something completely different than Sandy's gaze.
"Soda?"
The teen turned to face the hall where Ponyboy was standing, arms hanging limp at his sides as he watched him with a curious expression. He grinned a little, beckoning his brother in as he went back to styling his hair.
"You think it's too much?" he asked, glancing at him.
Ponyboy raised a brow. "You're asking me?"
"Well sure, kiddo," came the response. "I wanna look good for her . . . for Mary."
Ponyboy stared at his brother, surprised to hear him talking like this about another girl, a Soc girl, no less. Ever since Sandy, Soda hardly dated, barely looked at other girls, and when it came to going out and going on "trips" with Dallas to pick up dames, Soda always looked like he dreaded it. More times than none, Dally complained that Soda's drab personality would drive all the girls away, so hearing him talk about Mary DeVaney was shocking.
"You must really like her, huh?" he mumbled, and then added, "You look fine."
At that precise moment, Darry stuck his head in, a smile on his lips. "Think you're going a little over the top there, kid brother?" He shook his head, stepping into the bathroom to adjust Soda's collar. "Gee, you're really putting some effort into this."
Soda sighed, his shoulders slumping. "She's different, you guys, real different. I want to look good for her, not have her think I'm just some grease monkey."
Darry and Ponyboy both eyed their brother through the mirror, similar expressions on their faces. Soda never seemed to care about things like this, not with any of the girls he'd dated, and he had dated quite a bit of them, none ever as serious as Sandy, but still. From how he talked about Mary, always getting a dreamy look in his eyes, Darry could only come up with one conclusion, and he tried to brush it off. On the other hand, Ponyboy was happy because Soda was happy, and that was all that mattered.
"You know something, Pepsi-Cola," Darry started, smoothing his shirt sleeves down, "when Dad asked Mom out for the first time, they were in a one-hand market downtown, and Dad . . . he liked Mom a lot, used to wait for her to get off the bus after school where she and her friends would go into the market to get Coca-Colas." A smile crossed his mouth. "Well, this one particular day, he offered to buy her a bottle, and she said yes, but only if he asked her on a date first, like a proper gentleman. But she knew he'd been chasing her."
Soda was listening with intrigue, eyes wide. "And he did, right?"
Darry nodded. "Oh, yeah. He did alright, right after he backed into a display case and knocked down several boxes of sodapop." He chuckled lightly. "He sat on the floor in a pool of soda and asked Mom out as he handed her one of the bottles. She said yes in a fit of laughter." All three of them were laughing at the story, and Darry merely smiled. "Dad told me that a long time ago, but the point is, and this is what he told me, it don't matter who you are or where you come from—if somebody likes you enough, they like you, plain and simple."
"Yeah," Soda chirped with a small smile. "Dad scored a date with Mom just by knocking over multiple cases of soda."
"And you'll be just fine on your date tonight, Soda," Darry winked.
Ella walked out into the cool breeze, glad that her shift was finally over. She thought about her class members at homecoming, happy for Evie that Steve was taking her, and chuckling quietly to herself about Two-Bit Mathews going with Gina Porter. And then she thought about Craig and Jane going together, probably dressed up real sharp, hand in hand as they entered the gym with bright smiles gracing their faces.
For once, Ella really didn't feel anything for Craig, didn't feel any hatred or dislike aimed at Jane, either. Instead, she felt somewhat peaceful, a light calm and serene feeling clouding her senses as she continued her walk home. Who cared that Craig was taking Jane to the beach after graduation? Who cared that he had lied to her about loving her? Who cared about those ugly rumors he had started about her?
As she walked, a car pulled up beside her, and she turned on her heel with an anxious sensation making its way up her spine, only relaxing when she saw the familiar T-Bird with Dallas Winston at the wheel. She gave him an odd look, wondering what he could possibly be doing there, but walked back to where the car was, raising an inquisitive brow as he looked at her through the passenger side window.
"Get in," he said, turning back to face the road.
The girl felt a little unsure of herself, but climbed into the car anyway, for once not bothering to care about her feelings or anything else. She glanced at Dallas as he drove down the road, licking her lips nervously as they continued on. Her eyes shifted toward the clock—it was only a little after ten, but it didn't matter, did it?
"Where are we going?" she asked as he drove past her neighborhood. "Dallas?"
The blond ground his teeth, coming to a stop a red light. "Why'd you do it?"
Ella sighed; she knew this day was going to come. Her gaze landed on the red light ahead, which was reflecting through the windshield, illuminating both of their faces. There was nobody else on the road, nobody else around, and Dallas had stopped, actually came to a stop, at a red light.
"I would have felt bad," she admitted after a few seconds of silence. "I guess I should've had more faith in you, and I didn't, so I switched our exams around." She shrugged. "I told you that I was sorry, and I meant it, I am sorry, Dallas." A sigh fell past her lips. "I don't understand why you're not mad, or why you didn't lash out at me on Monday. Hell, I deserve it."
The blond merely stared at her, and then scoffed. "Ain't nothin' to be mad at, stupid. Either way, I still would have passed the school year and got the fucking diploma. It don't matter about some lousy ass exam counting toward my grade." He ran a hand over his chin. "'Sides, I would've just had you do the extra credit for me anyways, so's I guess we're even."
Ella's jaw practically dropped, unsure if she was really hearing this. She didn't know what to say to him, didn't know how to react. He wasn't mad at her because he was sure he would have passed either way, and it didn't matter to him. The silence between them was overwhelming, so Ella said the first thing that came to mind, her cheeks turning a shade in the darkness.
"The light is green."
Dallas's eyes shifted forward, and he reached out a hand and turned the key in the ignition, cutting the engine with a smirk. "Oh well," he muttered, stretching out in the seat and placing his arms behind his head. "Ain't my problem."
Ella's eyes were wide. "What if somebody comes?"
"There's a horn."
"But what if—"
His eyes snapped open as he jerked his head in her direction. "Life is a green light, girl. You gotta learn to live a little."
After a few minutes or so, Ella relaxed in the seat, watching the light change repetitively. She thought about Dallas's words—he was right, she supposed. Life was a green light, and everybody went at their own pace, in their own way. The entire school had been nothing but—from her meeting Dallas that day in Mr. Davis's office and becoming his tutor, to going on her first date with Craig, to meeting Ponyboy Curtis, learning what Craig and George had been doing, learning how to stand up for herself and her friends, and learning what it meant to let go a little—it just kept going.
Her body loosened up as she adjusted herself in the seat to get more comfortable. "What's your green light, Dallas?"
His answer was straightforward and absolute. "The day I leave this fucking town." The side of his lips twitched. "But I don't see that happenin' anytime soon, so's I guess you could say that I'm red until all of this probation bullshit clears the fuck up."
Ella licked her lips. "I guess I'm red, too."
At that, his eyes cracked open a little. "Bullshit. You're green, sweets. That's the difference—yer goin' places, wherever the hell they are, but you're all green."
"I don't feel like that," she admitted, eyes flickering to the floor. And then her brows furrowed as she considered her earlier thoughts. "Prom is tonight."
The blond grunted in affirmation. "Yeah, Two-Bit wouldn't shut his trap about it." At her silence, his eyes drifted in her direction, a blank look on his face as he took in her own muddled expression. "Let me guess . . . you thought you'd be goin' with your ex, right?"
She shrugged. "I suppose I considered it at one point, though not recently. It's just that . . ." Her face scrunched. "Well, that's just it—I don't know how I really feel."
Dallas was quiet for a moment, unsure of what Ella was saying to him. He couldn't understand why she would even be remotely upset about being unable to attend prom all these months later, or why she would even think of Fish-Eyes then. It didn't make sense to him, but then again, nothing about Ella Mitchell ever did seem to make sense to him. In the darkness, save for the changing light, Dallas's gaze flashed to the girl beside him for only a split second, and then, he turned the key in the ignition before reaching forward to turn the radio on low.
As the music flowed around them, he leaned back in the seat again. "There's your prom, sweets."
And then he changed topic, going on about how he ran into Craig earlier, but Ella was too absorbed in his earlier comment that she barely heard anything that he was saying to her. There was something bittersweet in his words, and Ella wondered why he was talking like that—Dallas was obnoxious and rude and cold, so hearing those words from him made her feel wary.
But he had been right—that had been their difference. Ella thought about her college applications and Dallas's record, and the bubbling pit of emotions in her stomach stirred up again, and she wished that she was red, too, but she knew that she had Dallas were too different from each other. They both had different needs and desires in life—both wanted different things.
In the end, Ella agreed with him—she was going places, places down different roads and new locations that she didn't even know about yet, and there was that yearn she felt for it, too. A bittersweet smile brushed her lips as she looked up again, the light turning green.
But, honey, I'll be seein' you 'ever I go
But, honey, I'll be seein' you down every road
I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it
Well, it certainly took Dallas and Ella long enough to become friends, didn't it? Hopefully, they won't mess that up with only two chapters left. ;)
As always, thank you for all of the feedback on this story! I appreciate it and you guys so much! :3
