Chapter Twenty-Two: Heaven Must Have Sent You

Two-Bit finished cleaning me up pretty quick after that. My face wasn't cut up too much, just bruised. All things considered, I'd gotten out pretty lucky, thanks to my greasy girl gang. I wondered if everybody else was okay, but I was too out of it to try and call around. I'd find out sooner or later anyway.

Once the first aid kit had returned to it's home in the bathroom, my brother asked, "You gonna be alright here by yourself for a while? I've got some business to attend to, now that I'm a free man."

"I reckon so," I replied. "Pony's got track today, he won't be home till later."

"Lord, don't let the anticipation kill ya," Two-Bit said. His grin was looking a little more like himself now. "I'll be back for supper, so you better not let Sodapop cook."

"I might have gotten my head knocked in, but I still ain't stupid."

He chuckled, shaking his own head at me. Then he promised to bring home smoke more smokes, and out the door he went. For Mama's sake, I hoped that whatever "business" had him in such a hurry was the kind that would earn 400.

After my brother left, the house was too quiet again. I thought about turning on the TV or the radio, but my head was starting to hurt and I was in a strange kind of mood. Not angry or sad, exactly; more like dazed. So I decided to hunt for aspirin and a book. Maybe that would take me out of my own head.

The aspirin was easy - in the cabinet next to the refrigerator, like always. Reading material was a harder. The Curtises had a small bookshelf in the living room, but I could practically recite all of the titles on it, I'd read them so often. Sometimes Ponyboy and I would spend whole afternoons in silence, except for the sound of turning pages. Or, when the weather was nice, we'd sprawl out in the empty lot and Pony would read out loud. Even when we really were just friends, I loved to lay in the grass and stare at the sky and listen to his warm, clear voice tell me stories. That was the only way either one of us had gotten through Moby Dick this past summer.

Thinking of Pony, I wandered into him and Soda's room. It smelled like soap and smoke and chocolate, just the way he did. For a minute, I just stood there, taking it in. It was funny how different the room felt now that my feelings for him had shifted.

There was a stack of books on the desk, just like I knew there would be. Once I stopped mooning, I started going through it. Gone With The Wind was in there. So was Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger. At the bottom, though, was a black and white composition notebook that I had never seen before. Written on the front was The Outsiders, by Ponyboy Curtis.There was also big A, drawn in red marker.

It was nosy. Nosy and rude and invasive. Of course I knew that. It was like an instinct, though, a knee-jerk reaction. Before I even realized what I was doing, I had opened it to the first page.

Chapter 1,

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home...

And just like that, he had me hooked.

On the desk next to the books was a half empty pack of Kools. I grabbed those and the notebook before I could talk myself out of it.

The Curtis' back steps were one of my preferred nooks, and that was where I headed. It was still so pretty outside, birds chirping overheard as I settled onto the wooden steps, lit a cigarette, and opened the notebook back up.

Almost immediately, it became clear that I was not at all prepared for this story. Because in the beginning, at least, it was one that I knew. I'd asked Pony about the scar on his temple once, and he'd told me about getting jumped, walking home from the movies one time. He described it as "before he got in trouble" which I knew really meant "before Johnny and Dally died."

It took me another chapter to realize that this was the story of how Johnny and Dally died.

After that, I tore through Pony's words. Every page hurt, and I kept on turning them. For a year, I'd wondered what, exactly, happened. Here was the story, written out for me in Ponyboy's handwriting. I didn't know how to feel about it.

The beautiful day around me disappeared. I was at the Nightly Double with Johnny, Ponyboy, Two-Bit, Marcia, and Cherry Valance. Then I was in the Curtis' living room, watching Darry slap his younger brother. By the time I got to Senatobia park with Johnny and Pony, the only thing I noticed outside of the pages was whenever my cigarette went out.

When the back door opened, I had made it to the Dairy Queen with Dally, Pony, and Johnny, talking about Cherry Valance while my stomach churned. Considering I was leaning against the solid wood, I jumped so hard, I nearly fell down the steps.

"Lord have mercy, Rosalie! You 'bout scared me half to death!" Sodapop said, clutching his chest.

I giggled. It surprised me how glad I was to see Soda right then. Laughing felt nice. Normal. "You? You 'bout knocked me off the damn stairs, Sodapop!"

"You're the one sittin' on my stairs," Soda chuckled. "I hate to tell you this, darlin', but you look like you already fell a time or twelve. What happened to you?"

"Angela Shepard and Co.," I grumbled.

The older boy nodded sympathetically. "You wanna talk about it?"

Normally, I'd love to vent to Soda about my troubles. Hell, I still wanted to. But there was still the composition notebook, open in my lap. Like everything else in my life lately, I had to see it through.

So I gave Soda a big smile, but told him truthfully, "Not yet."

"Well, I'll be inside if you need anything, alright?" He leaned down and ruffled my hair, still slightly damp from my second shower of the day earlier.

I felt a surge of affection as I nodded. Sodapop really was a special kind of person. I wondered if he had ever read this, and seen just how highly his little brother thought of him. Probably not though. Pony wasn't wrong when he said Soda couldn't sit still long enough to enjoy anything.

Once he was inside the house again, Soda turned the radio on, singing along cheerfully while he puttered around the kitchen. It was comforting have as background noise whole I delved back into Ponyboy's story. Especially because I knew what was coming next.

Once the church caught on fire, it took me longer than usual to read, 'cause I had to stop every two minutes and cry. Each line seemed to hurt more than the last, worse than any punch ever could. It didn't feel real, because it was way too real. The way Pony talked about Two-Bit, and Johnny, and Sodapop - I knew those boys. Even Dallas, who I had never truly even liked before then. My heart swelled with love for them over and over. That's why it kept breaking too.

It took about two hours after Soda had checked on me, but finally, I finished, and closed the notebook. I wasn't crying anymore.

It must have been close to five o'clock, because the sky was just starting to turn orange. I'd watched plenty of sunsets over the course of my life, even before I started hanging around Ponyboy, but this one felt different. Brighter, somehow.

Just as I thought of him, the back door behind me moved again, and Pony stuck his mahogany head out. "Rose?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

I moved down a step, giving him room to open the door and a space to sit. He ignored the now empty stair and parked himself directly next to me.

Just like after the party, and every other time I made dumb decisions, Ponyboy immediately looked me over, from my bruised face to my cut hand and then back to my own eyes. The worry made him look tense and tired, but he was still so damn handsome. And so alive. Thank God.

"I'm glad to see you."

Pony smiled at me, but it didn't quite wipe the worry from his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're here. Soda said you'd been sittin' all afternoon with a book. What are you reading?"

"This amazing story I hadn't read before. The author has a real way with words, lemme tell ya." And then I held up the composition book.

Ponyboy flushed. Thankfully, he looked embarrassed, not angry. "I was gonna give that to you, since you told me that you didn't really know what happened. That's why it was on my desk. I just... didn't know when would be the right time."

"Today," I told him simply. "Today was the right time."

The boy didn't hesitate when he put his arm around my shoulders this time. Almost as a reflex, I moved closer, settling my body against his. I hadn't realized how badly I needed him until he was there. It was like I was finally exhaling a long, long breath that I hadn't even known I was holding.

Me and Ponyboy watched the sunset together while I tried to collect myself. This time, the silence was more than welcome. There were a million and one thoughts buzzing around my brain, and I needed to process them before trying to get them out.

Finally, still gazing at the orange and pink sky, I spoke. "You know how you said that the gang is the only thing stopping Darry from being a Soc?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Y'all are the only thing stopping me from becoming Dallas Winston," I told him.

"Rosalie."

"I'm bein' serious. I know how that hate feels," I said slowly, making sure to get the words out right. "How you'll do just about anything, just to feel somethin'. The only difference is that instead of just Johnny, I have my brother and my mama. You and your brothers. Carla and the kids. I've got so many more people, and that's why I can still see the good in the world. Y'all are what stops me from being Dallas Winston. And Soda is right, that is worse than dead."

Ponyboy pulled just far enough away that he could look at my face. Maybe it was just the warm light, but he really did look golden, sitting on his back steps.

His eyes never left mine as he spoke, his tone velvet soft. "There's more to it than that. You would've gone into that church with me. There's not a doubt in my mind about that. I think you feel too much, Rosie, but you try to shut it all off, and that's why it feels like you feel nothin' at all sometimes. You may be tough like Dally, but you're not cold like him. You're the furthest thing from it."

That boy really did have a way with words.

It took me a minute or two to reply, but when I did, my voice was real small. "I don't wanna be cold. Not really."

"You feel pretty warm right now," Pony said lightly, squeezing my shoulders with a smile.

God, I wanted to kiss him. I couldn't kiss him with a busted lip. I settled for grabbing his hand with my good one instead, intertwining the fingers together.

Then I said, "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Yeah, of course."

"How..." I hesitated, but only for a second. "How come you're okay with bein' a greaser now? You talk about it an awful lot in here, and Lord, I get that feeling, Ponyboy. I really do. But that day we ran into Mrs. Price, you didn't seem to mind at all. What changed?"

Pony bit his lip, watching the sky darken while he thought. I watched him, unabashedly. That scar on his temple sure looked different now.

Finally, he said, "Well, partly, it's because I don't hate the Socs anymore. I think that the more you hate them, the more bein' a greaser will drive you crazy. At least from what I've seen. But it's no good, because nothin' changes it. They are who they are, and we are who we are, you know?"

"We all watch the same sunset," I said.

"Exactly. You get it," he smiled. Then he continued, "But to tell you the truth, Rosie, you were a big part of it too. I mean, you ain't no hood, and you ain't mean like Angela Shepard, but there ain't no denying that you are a greaser. You fight, steal, smoke, do your eyes up all pretty, and you ain't ashamed of any of it. You, especially, are just exactly who you are. And I'm crazy about who you are."

Even with my face all bruised up, my blush was so fierce, I could feel it. I knew the conversation was much bigger and more important than Ponyboy's compliments, but they still felt damn good to hear.

Still, I tried to manage a frown. "You didn't seem to care for greaser girls too much when you wrote this."

To my surprise, Ponyboy chuckled, not bothered in the slightest. "Rosie, you may be a greaser, but even you have to admit, you're a different breed than Sylvia Barfield."

"Beth Davis ain't though, and she saved my ass in that fight today," I pointed out. "You're right, a lot of the girls don't got any sense, but Lord, neither do the boys."

"That's true," Ponyboy conceded. "You make me see things different, I'm tellin' you."

"Then how come you didn't write about me? I mean, you sure talked about Cherry Valance, but you barely mentioned me." I tried not to let any of the hurt show in my voice, because I knew it was a silly thing to be hurt over, but it was no use.

Ponyboy kissed the top of my head. The movement felt so natural, like he'd been doing it for years. "When I wrote that, I didn't completely realize how I felt about you. I knew I wanted you to read it one day, but I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to say about you then, so I tried not to say anything at all." He grinned now. "Don't be sore, honey. It didn't take me too much longer to figure it out."

"I know the feeling," I murmured. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"You're here now. That's all that matters."

There was so much I wanted to talk to him about. I was trying to decide where to go from there when Ponyboy beat me to it.

"Can I ask you somethin', Rosie?"

I echoed his words from earlier. "Of course."

It was his turn to hesitate. The sun had set completely now, putting his face in shadows, but I could still see him bit his lip. "If none of that had happened, and Johnny were still here, do you still think it would be like this between you and me?"

He sounded so hurt, it hurt me. I let go of his hand to reach up and touch his face, very gently cupping his cheek in my uninjured hand.

"Absolutely." I smiled now, because he looked unconvinced, and I needed to reassure him. "I liked Johnny because I wanted to help so bad. The same reason everybody loved him, you know? But nothin' would've ever happened between us. I see that now. Ponyboy, I really think it was always supposed to be you and me. All you would've had to do was talk to me, and I would've flipped my whole world upside down for you. Just like I did now, I reckon. But don't you be sore, either, because I promise, you're the one that I want."

The boy's returning grin was so huge, it was almost too big for his face. Moonlight always made him gorgeous, but with his eyes crinkled at the corners like that, he really did take my breath away.

Before I could say anything else, the back door opened yet again. Naturally.

"Dinner is ready, y'all," Darry said. He didn't look the least bit surprised to see me and Pony sitting the way we were.

Even more shocking, he closed the door after that without another word, heading back into Soda's noise and chaos. My own brother would be disappointed; I got so wrapped up, I'd forgotten to cook.

I sighed. "I reckon I owe Darry an apology."

"He'll probably apologize to you, to tell you the truth," Ponyboy told me as he took the notebook from my lap and tucked it under the big inside pocket of his jacket. "I kinda hit the roof after you left the other day. Made him promise that he'd never actually keep you away from me."

"You're sweet. I get where he's coming from now, though."

I finally stood, wiping dirt off the bottom of the dress as I did so. Ponyboy got up too. With both of us on the same step still, we were awfully close. His face was only inches from mine. It made my heart act funny.

I still had one more thing to say before we went inside, or before he distracted me again. I told him, "You know, Pony, you said that you wanted to tell people there was still good in the world, before it was too late. I want you to know that you told me. I kind of knew, but there's a lot that I didn't realize until now. You kinda changed my whole life with this, Ponyboy. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you."

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a soft smile. "I'm glad, Rosie. I really am."

I knew we needed to go inside. Apologetic or not, Darry was gonna kill us both if we were too late to dinner. Still, when Pony wrapped his arms around my waist, I didn't resist. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled that smell of smoke and chocolate that I loved so much.

Thank God he was here. Thank God we were both here, together. After everything we'd been through already, it felt like a miracle. I always liked Chickasaw Street, but I had never been more grateful to be where I was - or who I was - in my entire life.

A/N: This might be the most dialogue-heavy chapter yet, and God knows I like dialogue. This whole story started because I, personally, didn't like the way Ponyboy talked about greaser girls, and I wanted to show their side of things. Hopefully that worked. We're not done with this story yet, but if I was perhaps working on something about Rosalie a few years later, would y'all be interested? Sequels seem lame, but I love writing about Rose. Let me know you think! :-)