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HappierThanMost : Thank you for your beautiful reviews, I'm so glad you feel Johnny's becoming real to you. Hope you continue to feel that way this chapter.
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doomseas1 : I'm glad your enjoying it!
Chapter VI
S*S
The blur of cars and houses rushed together at a rate that surely went against the laws of motion. Of course, the fact that more people that it was safe were currently piled into Bob's mustang probably had something to do with that. And also with the death grip Wendy had on the seatbelt only she, Cherry and -following their example- Peggy care enough to put on; despite the bemused looks on the faces of her friends, and the long suffering, almost inaudibly sigh from her sister, who still eyed her disapprovingly in the review mirror.
Wendy somehow made a face right back at her, though the fact it was chalk white probably lessened the intended effect. Still if Bob crashed them into a tree, and everyone went flying through the windshield like crash dummies...well...they couldn't blame her then could they? The car bounced a bit as they went over a speedbump to fast, and Wendy thought she felt her stomach high-fiving her tonsils. Peggy whimpered but the others laughed. Still laughing, Bob suddenly took a screeching corner way to sharp, and Wendy could tell that Cherry was reaching the already low limit of what she could tolerate - the redhead hadn't liked the idea of so many people riding at once in the first place, but allowed herself to be talked into it. She was obviously regretting that now.
"Bob Sheldon!" she screeched, grasping the wheel to make sure he stayed at least partly within the lines. "If you can't stop driving like a drunk, pull over! I'm getting out!"
The blazing look in her eye was enough to get through her boyfriend's adrenaline filled head, and he obliged. True to form, Cherry stormed out, slamming the door with the force of her disgust. Which amplified as Bob tried to sweet talk her.
"Baby, come on now-"
"No, you come on!" Cherry snapped like a ringmaster's whip, unable to brake a lion. "You can put yourself in an early grave if ya want, but ya not takin' me with ya!"
Then Cherry had allowed her gaze to scan over the rest of the car. "Anyone who wants to get home alive is free ta join me."
That was all the invitation Wendy needed. Marcia too for that matter.
Undoing her seatbelt, Wendy took the liberty of pulling an indecisive Peggy with her. After all, who knew how much worse Bob and the others would be with the voice of reason gone? Their protest didn't seem to have much of an effect on the others though, who merely took advantage of the free space.
"I'm staying out late, Wen," Connie announced pleasantly, rolling with the new developments as always. "So when dinner's going, don't bother with a setting a place for me, alright?"
Wendy's jaw twitch. Actually if truth be told, whenever Wendy set the table nowadays, more often than not she had to be reminded to set a place for Connie. Which wasn't surprising really, when you were dealing with a person who was absent more times than she was present.
"Alright," she said, monotone and arms folded. Con smirked.
"See you hon," she said, lacing a normally sweet endearment with informal distance, the tang tasting of sour ice instead of honey.
S*S
"I'm so sorry y'all" Cherry apologized miserably as the three of them walked the way home together. Which wasn't so bad altogether, really, Wendy would have to admit. Really it wasn't. The day was beautiful: sun out, birds chirping, and the leaves were long, the grass was greener today than it had been most of August. New and fresh. It was nice to be out of a car enjoying it. Lord knew soon enough they wouldn't be able to, and Wendy shuddered at the thought of snow and winter.
"Bob, he...he doesn't normally do that," Cherry continued, hands flopping slightly. "He just...when he get around people, he likes to push the envelope, ya know? Likes to show off..."
"We know," Wendy assured her, while Peggy and Marcia nodded at her side. "He wasn't like that when he drove Con and me to school this morning."
Though, that was probably because none of the guys had been there with them. He had been on his best behavior then, gallant and charming and attentive towards Cherry, holding her hand across the seat, playing tic-tact-toe across her fingers and making her blush with just his smile.
But Wendy couldn't make herself say any of that now, Cherry didn't look like she need the reminder. So she just settled for the simple truth as the girls walked arm and arm down the pavement.
"You don't have to apologize for him you know, you're not his mother," she added. Peggy nodded again, though she immediately stopped when Cherry heaved a long sigh, eyes shut and drawn like moat of a castle, braced for siege.
They didn't say much for the rest of the way...wasn't any time too. Bob had been close to their street by the time Cherry made him pull over, the pillared houses and immaculate lawns freshly sprinkled with the occasional child running through them, watched either by a mother or uniformed nanny. Peggy detached and departed from them in front of one such house, muttering her farewell before darting away. Wendy watched her with brows furrowed. She'd have to remember to call her sometime, make sure she was alright.
She tucked the thought away for later, as she and Cherry part ways themselves as their street diverge, and Wendy finished the walk to her house the way she seemed to do most things. Alone. She hugged the strap of her bookbag tighter.
Which she didn't mind much. Not really. At all.
"We're all vanderers on this earth, Chey," her mother had told her once, during her illness, when she still could. "Our hearts are filled with vonder and our souls our filled vith dreams darhling. But dreams are lonely things Wendy...often, dreams make you valk alone. That is the choice everyone must make. Is their dream worth being alone?"
Wendy flinched at the memory, uncertain why out of all the ones she cherish about Mary "Mariska" Allen, her subconscious had conjured that particular one up for analysis. It was important...but not a favorite. Worse...she didn't know the answer for it anymore. Wonder? Dreams? What were her dreams?
It had been a long time since she'd even had the present of mind to consider such things -like finding an old storybook you use to love in the attic or basement, and blowing off the years of dust. When...when she was little, Wendy supposed she'd had dreams like every other little kid, the way Sam and Eric had their now. Though of course, hers were of the girly verity. She was going to be a big movie star, she remembered wryly, a twitch tugging at her lips. And she was also going to cowgirl the week after that, along with a ballerina and (when she was very little) a princess. But through all her childish dream swapping, one thing had remained constant. Little-girl Wendy had always, always known that, no matter what she did, she be a good mother too, just like her Mama. It was as inevitable as food on the table. Little girls grew up, and no matter what they did, in some shape or form, they became mothers. Least...that was what Mary had told her.
As Wendy got older, a sudden revelation at twelve had solidify all her the threads of her childhood imagining under one banner. Instead of being the movie story or the cowgirl, or the princess, she'd write about them. Whole stories and worlds with them, out of the millions running through her head. And she started right away. Not very good at first, naturally, but she loved it. And she got better and better every year, until even her teachers took noticed and sent one in to a local newspaper contest. And won.
Ecstatic, Wendy had floated on air all the way home...where she had found her mother unconscious among her rose bushes. She didn't write anymore for a long time after that. How could she, when all thought and creation in her head revolved around death with no hope? No one would want to read that. And she refused to write it. Besides, she had her family to worry over...especially as it became painfully clear that Dad was incapable...and Connie uninterested.
Don't think about that now Wendy. It's over, she reminded herself, though the thoughts and memory and feel of that time was still with her; under her skin, in her blood, calling her name with poison and fear as the world crumpled and shrank around her, like flame around paper. Her wrist itch.
S*S
When she finally reached the Allen's house, Wendy couldn't find interest in the thought of spending time inside the place. What was the point? The twins wouldn't be home for another hour, Connie was saints-knows-where doing who-knows-what, and Dad...Dad wouldn't be home until later this night. No...in dawning revelation, Wendy realized that for once she actually had, for the first time in a long time...time to herself.
And she just how she wanted to spend it.
Stepping directly around the house to the backyard, Wendy trotted across it to the tree line, passing though it's gates of shade and hemlocks on the path she and her brothers had discovered while exploring this summer. Immediately, the weight of her schoolbag lighten on her shoulders, forgotten or absolve by the grace of this woody place, where the leaves of years were thickly spew, timeless in the glinting light.
Carefully slide one olive leg, followed by the other, over the gray waist of a fallen tree, Wendy allowed herself lose sight of the house, confident from previous outings that she knew her way back from this journey's end.
As the trees around her gradually lessen, she knew she was coming upon the jewel of her brothers' exploration -so much so, that the moment they found it, they had run back home to tell her.
"It's perfect for you Wendy," Eric had told her.
"Yeah," Sam added. "Quiet and green and kinda sad, but pretty too you know?"
And it was. In a pocket clearing the woods held a small baby green pond, with an lopsided willow tree growing at one bank, and the brick ruins of old house on the other side (which she'd expressly forbade the twins from getting close too) sitting peacefully among the tall grass. The moment Wendy appeared before it, her grin couldn't be hidden and she dropped her bag in order wiggle out of her shoes and socks, wanting to feel the warm ground beneath her feet.
Making her way to the willow, Wendy took the time to study the poor thing, like she always did. What put it in this state, she didn't well know. Best she could figure was that a tornado or something had blow the tree sideways, so it's truck and canopy hung over the pond, green limbs dangling into the water. But the roots had held firm, and the willow continued to grow, curving upward again. Kinda like people.
Clambering on top of one of the stronger roots, Wendy sat herself prettily on the natural desk, opening her bag and spreading her text book and note book before her. Once she was on the correct page for the assignment, she opened her notebook...and paused. While she had tore out the first assignment about her partner like the rest of the class, Wendy had been so nervous that her pencil had pressed down harder than necessary on the paper, leaving the ghost of the words on a clean page. She didn't know why, but something made her reach for her pencil again now, after running her finger along the imprint. With a steady hand now, she traced over the markings, essentially recreating the original with the ten facts regarding their subject. Once done, she paused again, head tilted.
Why she wanted to preserve such meaningless trivia would probably be beyond most people...she didn't understand it herself. Or most of what happened in that classroom, the moment after the note was passed.
One day, I'll figure it out, Wendy promised herself, before flipping to a clean page, and diving into her homework.
S*S
With a whapping seven boys to feed, dinner at the Curtis house was rarely the orderly event advertised on T.V.
But that was fine and dandy as far the gang was concern. What they had here was much better. On that point, Johnny Cade easily cast his lot to make the vote unanimous. Hell, if it weren't for the Cutis' inviting him over, he'd probably never would've know that a meal could happen without insults, plates or boiling hot coffee being thrown on differing victims, depending on what phase the moon was in.
He almost winced at the recollection before putting it away. Damn if that hadn't hurt like a bitch though -and he hadn't even been main target that time. Just the bystander.
Like always.
"Hey Johnny B. Goode, pass some that fine ham over this way," Mr. Curtis commanded with a grin to rival that of his middle son...who was exclude from the table by virtue of his mother following the doctor's order regarding bedrest to the letter. And considering that Mrs. Curtis still pretended that Vatican II never happened, and continued to attend a church where Latin mass was still the rule, there would be only cradle Catholic leniency for Sodapop in regards to this doctrine. Meaning none. None whatsoever. Eh, Johnny felt sorry for him, sure -Soda had such a bad case of stir crazy...well, a worse case of stir crazy, at any rate -that the man was looking forward to going back to school.
Still, was nice to have some elbow room at the table.
That thought was enough to bring a wry grin to his tan face as his fingers complied, lifting the plate with it's steaming contents and stretching it over the table. Taking it, Mr. Curtis took an exaggerated whiff, damn near rolling his eyes back. Johnny bit the corner of his mouth.
"Ah gross Dad, the rest of have to eat that too ya know," Ponyboy complained from his place besides his father. On the other side, Darry snorted and gave his youngest brother a lazy stare.
"So said the most notorious double dipper in the state of Oklahoma," he noted drily.
"Only with my own ketchup!" Pony protested, ears going red.
"Keep telling yourself that -cause you steal others when yours's runs dry."
"That's true Ponyboy," Two-bit chimed in. "Your a downright ketchup bushranger."
"...I hate you all," the youngest boy muttered as the table laughed; though out of loyalty to his friend, Johnny dropped his head and chuckled quietly into his lap. Dramatic much Pony?
"Ya seem a mite quiet, Johnnycakes," Mr. Curtis said evenly, while he bruised himself with cutting his ham. A unruly eyebrow winged up with way too much mischief for a grown-ass man. Then again, being able to laugh what probably what keep him so young lookin', or at least cast the illusion that he was, to the point where folk mistook him and Darry for brothers instead of father and son. "Any reason why?"
Johnny tilted his head at that, puzzled. He was normally quiet. That wasn't usually by any means or measure. But then Two-Bit laughed, and he started to have a sinking feeling.
"Oh yeah," his buddy exclaimed evilly. "Johnnycakes here probably daydreamin' bout his new little girlfriend!"
Johnny felt his whole body must be blushing like a beacon, he was that embarrassed. What followed next didn't help.
"What?!"
That was near universal reaction from around the table, shocked from Pony, bafflement from Darry, and alertness from Dally. Steve was already in on it. And Mr. Curtis' mouth was spreading in a wide grin.
"Now when did this happen?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair.
"Nothin' happened!" Johnny protested. "I told ya Two-bit, she ain't my girlfriend-"
"She?" Mrs. Curtis intercepted like Darry at one of his games. She was coming back from giving Soda dinner. "Whose this she?"
"Johnny's girlfriend," Two-bit supplied helpfully, angel like.
"She's not my girlfriend," Johnny muttered, though he was bringing to figure it was a lost cause. "She's my English partner for this year. We're stuck with each other-"
Two-bit tutted.
"Now Johnnycakes," he explained patiently, like he was the principle at a parent-teacher conference, even folding his hand professional on the table."If ya paired off with a gal who hit every branch whiles falling off the ugly tree, that's when you say your stuck with her. When ya paired with a cute little thing like that, that's when you fall to ya knees and thank Jesus for forgettin' you're a wicked sinner."
"Speak for yourself," Johnny huffed back, annoyed enough to let out some of the sass that swam under the pools of his quiet. Pony sniggered. Two-bit ignored him.
"Yes siree bub, you made out good. That one fine sweetheart face you get to gaze into all year long. Now her sister on the other hand," Two-bit grinned like Sylvester had at long last caught Tweedy. "Now that's a gal you can watch from every angle and leave a happy man."
"First girl I ever seen give you as good as she got, I'll give her that," Steve begrudged. Then he pointed his fork at Johnny. "Their still a couple of fancy skirt Socs, so if ya got to work with one, fine, but don't fall for any of their trick's ya hear?"
Dally nodded furiously. "Damn right."
"Dally, no language at the dinner table," Mrs. Curtis abolished, hands loaded on her hips -the only person who could get away with that without being belted.
Johnny just tried not to roll his eyes. Yeah, Leave it to Beaver and Moon River were clearly master tactics of manipulation. And he would know, having been around manipulative people. Lived with two of them. He could hold his own.
"What's her name?" Pony asked, to nosy for his own damn good. Two-bit clicked his cheek, thinking. Must've been tough.
"Not sure...know her sister's named Connie and their last name is Allen-"
"Wendy," Johnny finally said, giving in to the inevitable. "Her name's Wendy."
Mr. Curtis grinned and leaned over the table, winging up that eyebrow. "Well if anything does happen with this Wendy, I want ta hear about it. You got me Johnny Cade?"
"Yeah, you got me Johnny Cade?!" the gang echoed, howling. Johnny just nodded. Fat chance of that happening.
S*S
Later that night, after the others hand gone home, Johnny hung round the porch. He'd carefully caught Mr. Curtis' eye before he left, and the man's answering glint was enough to let the boy know he'd been heard.
It didn't take long for Pony's Dad to steal a moment away, he was like Soda, surely liquid in a previous life, though in his hand the man held the ember of a cigarette.
"What's on ya mind Johnny B. Goode?" he asked, like an Indian smoking the peace pipe. He fidgeted in place, awkward.
"Um well...you see sir, I..." he paused and licked his lips before trying again. "Member how Mrs. C offered to uh...loan me Pony's notebooks from last year? I guess...I guess I'll be needing 'em after all."
There, he said it. Glory it was bitter havin' to take charity, even from friends...maybe especially from friends. And if it had just been him, he would've stuck with his original answer of no thank you. But it wasn't just him now. He had a partner, and it wouldn't be right if she got pulled down just cause he didn't have any supplies to work with.
Mr. Cutis gave a brisk nod, as no nonsense as his oldest son, before turning in the house to fetch the supplies. Still ashamed, Johnny kept his gaze on the crooked porch step when suddenly, two notebooks were slapped into his copper hands, and strong fingers were mussing up the back of his hair.
"You'll do fine son," Mr. C promised softly, before pulling back. Johnny nodded, before turning to sit on the step edge, just off the street.
"Couch is open tonight, if ya want."
"Thank you sir."
But he didn't think he need the couch just yet. The weather was fine and a night under the stars sounded good to him right about now. Still, not yet, he need the porch light for something. One of Pony's old notebook had a pencil still in it's spine, so after tapping it out, he opened to a blank page (Mr. C must've ripped out the used paper) and jotted from memory the list of ten things he learned about his project partner.
She was born in the Washington D.C. and was the second oldest in her family. Her middle name was Marie, and her birthday was December 8th. Her favorite colors were blue and white, while her favorite song was Moon River from that Audrey Hepburn film. She was a lefty like him and the same age too, least for a while. She also loved the Righteous Brothers...then his mouth twitch.
And Leave it to Beaver.
Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.
Okay, so I really hope you like a look into Johnny head, remember, he has been jumped yet and had all the fight kicked out of him, so he's a little more confidant and liberal with the sassiness that hinted at in the book. And Enjoyed Wendy's part too. Here's to Happier than most for Johnny's other nickname Johnny B. Goode.