Guest: I hope it is.
Mood: I'm glad you feel it realistic, that's what I'm going for.
Happier than Most: Yep, and that's what Connie wants, to be in another world from her family. Wendy is much more traditional and the conflict is delious...I hope you like my take on the church scene
lulusgardenfli:philosophical depth? You spoil me rotten, and just in time for my birthday! This is a Johnny chapter, so I hope you enjoy!
Chapter XII
S*S
"Jesus please, if you ever had any mercy, kill me. Just kill me now -"
"-Ponyboy knock it off, ya ain't helping none," Johnny muttered hotly under his breath, dropping lower into his seat as the younger boy thumped his reddening forehead against the back of the pew again; a position he had assumed from the moment Soda had tossed a paper wad -torn from the church pamphlet, not a Bible - at their friends, and Two-bit and Steve used that as an excuse to start World War III, sniggering and horsing around...dead in the middle of homily. "And ya gonna give yourself a headache if you keep doing that."
As usual, Pony didn't listen, to wrapped up in making something bad even worse. He groaned, and thumped his head again.
"Why did we bring 'em?" he whined, as another paper wad went flying, and more eyes from around the church looked at them. "Why?"
Johnny breathed out, and slouched lower, figuring it would be cruel to remind the kid that this was his great idea. Pony, trying to help Soda escape their mother's lockdown a smidge early than neassary, since the man was about ready to go crazy with cabin fever. But Mrs. Curtis wouldn't hear of it...until her youngest innocently suggested letting Soda accompany him and Johnny to church (she couldn't due to a doctor's appointment). Starved for some non-familial company, Soda had invited Steve, which had lead to Two-Bit deciding he just had to tag along, o' course...glory, he supposed they should be thanking the saints that Dally was back at Buck's, sleeping off one hell of a hangover.
Then he snorted, shaking his head. Nah, the only time Dallas Winston would ever be in a church, without setting fire to it for kicks, would be at his funeral.
"I don't know Pony..." he said in answer to the kid, despite knowing the question was...what was the word? Not-serious? Rhetorical? Yeah, that was it. Something like that. "-just try to ignore it."
Pony turned to stare at him, giving his poor forehead a break as his jaw went slack. "Ignore it?!"
From the way the youngest boy said it, it was clear there was a higher chance of man walking backwards on the moon. Which meant there would be no reasoning with him, when he got like this.
"...Nevermind..."
His own head dropping, deeply tan fingers, the result of mixing Italian blood with Indian, reaching under his shaggy bangs to rub off his own feeling of growing shame.
As the son of a one hundred percent Sicilian war-bride, attending Mass were some of the few decent memories Johnny could recall spending with his own mother, before she gave up going to church when he was nine, and her drinking became to bad too stumble out of bed (or off the floor) on Sundays.
He still went though...why...well...he wasn't too sure. At first it was habit, and the hope that if he kept it up...then maybe one day, Mariella Cade would slide into the pew next to him, immaculate in the bold red lipstick and best green dress that once caught a soldier's eye, in dusky, stone ally streets of Palermo; before coming to the crashing realization that just because you married an American, didn't mean you were gonna be rich. And that it could be just like old times, his hand sliding into her's.
That hope hadn't lasted long.
And it wasn't long before the thoughtful, gentle image of a young mestiza woman, clothed in a pink robe and cerulean mantle with a stomach full of promise, became the thing that drew him by it's lonesome, like water in the desert, till he meet Ponyboy and Mrs. C at least; her high cheek-bones, delicate features, and unbraided black hair not looking so different from his own, making the scripted engraving under the portrait all the stronger:"No estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre? Am I not here, I who am your mother?"
Nowadays...well, Johnny supposed he came for himself. Church was...well it was different that just about any place else. It didn't sugarcoat how mean the world could be. How nasty things could get. How hard. It just...promised that it wasn't for nothing. That it wasn't a waste. And that neither was he.
His mouth thinned. No matter what his parents said. Or how often they said it. Being here reminded him it wasn't true. It wasn't.
He folded his arms tighter around himself, before breathing out, relaxing. And yes, ignoring the idiots they had for friends. Tuning 'em out. He was good at that. Had a lot practice back home, just to be able to go to sleep.
His eyes wandered. Another thing he always liked about church, this one in particular, was the saint stories -as he called 'em- that aligned the walls and widow panels; perfectly getting the story across for a little kid who couldn't read, but nevertheless took comfort in the realization that he wasn't the only person the world knocked down, around an' then some.
And that there was nothing stopping him from getting up. Just like they did.
So all in all...this was a pretty piss poor way to repay this place, for the hope it had given him. Just because he wasn't banging his own forehead didn't mean he didn't feel it just as heavy on his shoulders.
Which got heavier when Steve knocked over a hymn book during the Canticle of the Turning, with a bang that echoed all the way to arched roofs above, and brought every eye in the building to them in stunned silence. Glory, maybe Pony right to pray like he did, Johnny groaned to himself, just about crawling under the pew beside his friend, as Two-bit sheepishly waved at the crowd, flashing them the hippie peace sign.
Glory...this couldn't get worse could it?
At least that was what he thought, till the eruption of kids' laughter brought something much, much worse as their minder tried to hush them.
"Sam! Eric! Knock it off!" a sweet voice commanded in an embarrassed huff, somewhere from the right of them, turning Johnny's stomach into knots and making him feel kinda green. Ah God, come on, it couldn't be. This wasn't a Soc church...the occupants here were mostly their kind and middle classers...there was no way...
But a quick look from under his bangs proved that it was; cobalt blue eyes and delicate features framed by a mantle of simply parted black hair, even as those features got more pinched and red as people turned to look at them while she tried to corral what must've been her brothers.
For a moment, his black and her blue meet across the aisle, and he saw bewilderment, shyness, and embarrassment flash by in a succession of revelations before she broke it.
Yep, it just got worse.
S*S
Them moment the Mass was ended, Pony bolted from their pew like it was the opening at the Kentucky Derby. And left the rest of them to scramble after him, out the doors of the church.
"Pony!" Soda called out, trying to catch him, still limping a bit on his ankle, though it was hardly noticeable now. "Hey Pony!"
"Whoa, hold 'em horses, Ponyboy," Two-bit whistled out as he jogged ahead and nabbed the kid by the back of his shirt, reeling him to the group like a tout on a line. "Where's the fire at?"
Pony just gaped at them, face as red as his hair. "What -I don't- you- I cant- I can't believe you!"
Steve sneered, and spat lazily on the sidewalk. "Need to be a bit more specific kid."
"Specific?!" Pony's eyes were shooting green fire. "Oh, I'll give you specific! I'll never be able show my face in that church again! There's specific!"
Soda's brows shot up and he raised one hand in that pacifying gesture Christ was always drawn with, in paintings and stuff. "Take it easy Pone, we were having a bit of fun -"
"It's church! Not the drive in or Buck's! It's ain't the place where y'all are suppose to be havin' fun!"
Two-Bit cocked his head like a dumb-as-rocks Labrador who didn't get why chewing on the drapes was bad, chuckling while fishing out a cancer stick. "Really? Cause I had me a grand ol' time."
"I noticed," Pony gritted out. "I'm sure Mom will think the same thing when she hears about it."
That made Two-Bit choke on his own smoke, while Soda and Steve went very still.
"...You wouldn't," Soda said.
Pony tossed up his hands. "I don't have to, you idiots! Mom works with half the women in that church! You think the next time they see her, they'll just forget all about this?"
From the dawning look of horror on the three face's before him, the answer was a resolved no.
"...She-et..."
"No kiddin'," Pony lifted his chin. "Sucks to be you."
Then with as much dignity as he could muster, he marched away. Two-bit followed in utter anguish -an angry Mrs. C meant no place at her table.
"C'mon now Pony, lets be reasonable 'bout this like gentlemen-"
"You know any?" Pone drawled back, enjoying himself now.
Steve didn't bother, but went to catch Two-bit in order to have a ride to his shift at the gas station. Soda lingered behind, his ankle unable to match the pace, and walked beside Johnny. He rubbed his neck.
"Guess we didn't think that through all the way," he admitted, though even that didn't stop a grin from dancing over his face. He waited for the shrug or shoulder roll that would show that Johnny agreed...but it didn't come. Soda blinked and cocked an eyebrow at the smaller boy.
"Johnny? Hey, earth to Johnnycakes-" he started off, following his buddy's line of sight to see what was so darn enticing...and felt that grin turn shit-eating when that answer left the church in a white dress, olive skin, and pinched exasperation as she tugged along her still laughing brothers.
Tossing an arm around Johnny's shoulders, Soda inclined his head.
"That the gal ya paired up with, Johnnycakes?"
"...no..."
But he'd hesitated just a second too long. Soda's grinned widen all the more as he looked up for a second glimpse. After a moment, he nodded his verdict.
"Cute," he complimented, slapping an open hand against Johnny's jacket. And she was -a little on the petite side for his taste, true, and not much in the chest area either...but that dress looked mighty nice from the backside, and her hair was dark and soft looking while her skin was sun kissed. "You said her name was Wendy, right?"
By now, Johnny's face was a toasty cinnamon color as he shrugged and tried to wiggle free. "Knock it off man, it doesn't matter."
Soda sniggered lazily. "Sure it don't. And Sandy and I are just friends."
Suddenly, Johnny went still and tossed an irritated look dead in his eyes, "Yeah, and friends was what I was hopin' me and her could be, before today. How'ya feel if Pony and I pulled that shit when you were tryin' to get Sandy's attention, huh?"
That took the wheat-haired boy's grin off as the words set in.
"Shit, I'm sorry Johnnycakes," he said softly, meaning it. "I didn't think of that."
The boy's dark eyes were on the pavement again. "Like I said, it doesn't matter."
S*S
"So you're back, ragazzo," was what his mother said by way of greeting, cool voiced and tight lipped, nose crinkled like he smelled as he closed their door behind them. He gave a shrug back in answer, hating the name she had for him...true it only meant boy in her native Italian, but Johnny hated how it had the word rag in it...which was what he sometimes felt his folks saw him as. Something to use then toss aside.
His mother hadn't called him by his own name since he was nine. Even his father did that occasionally, even if it was only "John".
He ducked his head and rolled his shoulder in an indiscriminate answer. It was safer that way. He just had to get to his room...
But his mother wasn't done.
"Did you at least get the groceries," she demanded irritably.
And he really should know better by now, and most of the time he did. But sometimes he slipped and made the mistake of thinking his mother was reasonable.
"You didn't ask me to get any groceries..." he started slowly-
-Only to duck as the plate she'd been cleaning -without soap- went flying at his head, shattering behind him.
"Ragazzo inutile!" she spat, flying forward and sizing him by the collar of his only jean jacket...the one she got him for his fifthteen birthday. Grabbing it the way you'd grabbed a dog's leash. "Spreco della mia carne!Quello che è buono per andare a fare la spesa, è così?"
Times like this were when Johnny really wished he'd never took the pains he had to learn his mother's Italian...it had sounded so beautiful when he was younger, but after learning what was being said...yeah.
As she continued to rant, Johnny just tuned it out, plotting in his head the fastest way to get to his room, grab his notebooks for school and get the hell out of there -if it wasn't for that, and the fact that some of the homework for tomorrow wasn't done yet, he wouldn't have come back tonight...his parents were always the meanest on Sundays.
"Mi stai ascoltando, piccolo topo?" she hissed, and in a move so fast he barley saw, her hand flew at his face, and Johnny felt two of her nails burn against his cheek.
S*S
"Johnny! What happened to you?"
It was clear Wendy had been dying to ask that, that was obvious from the way her mouth had dropped open when she walked into class and got a good look at his face (Mr. Syme eyes had narrowed as well, but he knew the score). The scratches had gotten pretty nasty looking over night...as Pony had been kind enough to tell him this morning, before Two-bit thumped him on the head with an order to hush up.
At least Wendy had waited till class was dismissed. And she look real tuff today, in a light red dress and blue sweater with a little black belt, hair down and parted smoothly, perfectly framing two pools of cobalt that looked at him with a concren only Mrs. Curtis ever showed.
Suddenly his throat was a little tight, and his stomach rolled a bit when her fingers reached up, clearly intending to slide under his jaw, and turn his face. On instinct, he leaned back and away, and Wendy lowered her hand at once.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, face reddening. "I should've have-"
Well if that didn't make feel like a piece of shit.
"No, Wendy," he fumbled, hand flying to his hair, gripping the back of his neck. "It's not-I mean-"
Christ Jesus, sometimes he wished he was Two-bit or Soda -they could always turn stuff like this around and have everybody laughing. But him? All he could do was breath out in frustration and slap his hand to his jeans.
There was silence between them for a beat. Then Wendy partly lifted her hand again, palm out.
"May I?" she asked softly. After a moment of letting his eyes flicker from her hand to her face, Johnny nodded, despite himself.
Her touch was warm as it skimmed around his broken skin, testing the swelling with an air of having done this before. Or at least seen this done before. Quick and professional like. After a second, she cluck her tongue.
"Well it doesn't look infected, so that's something," she gave her verdict, touch moving to brush his chin before lowering away and folding against her skirt, and Johnny found that his skin missed it.
Which was something in and of itself, since normally, he didn't like being touched all that much outside the gang. And even then he didn't like it if he couldn't see it coming. Back when they were little kids, it had taken him a long-ass time to stop jumping halfway to China and back everytime Pony tossed an arm around him. Nowadays he was better.
But nobody in the gang ever thought to ask before touching him. They all just assumed it was enough that they never touch him with purposeful violence. Which it was of course, he didn't mean-
Meanwhile, Wendy kept talking.
"But I would still put something on that if I were you...and seriously Johnny, what happened?"
"...cat scratched me," he finally said, rolling a shoulder.
Wendy blinked.
"...must've been some cat," she said flatly.
"A hellcat," he agreed, figuring he might need to take some lying lessons from Two-bit. "Real angry one. More of a tiger actually."
Her mouth was twitching. "Oh? Did it escape from the zoo with a lion and a bear or something?"
"Or something, yeah," he said. "Though I donno about a lion or bear. But if she was lookin' for Oz, she missed the yellow brick road by a mile."
That got her giggling, and brought a tentative smile to his own face when her eyes gleamed with mirth. Maybe Soda and Two-bit had rubbed off on him some after all.
"Maybe that for the best..."she hummed, thoughtful. "After all, Oz wasn't really there, all the people on the yellow brick road had to find what they needed themselves."
"Yeah..." he said, cause wasn't that the truth? Wendy shuffled slightly, and bit her lip.
"If...if you're not doing anything today..."
Reviews, and I'll update sooner. You know on the ninth this September, I turn twenty one...older than all the outsider kids, and boy if it doesn't put things into perspective on how young they are. I got a whole new appreciation for Darry -babysit my teenage cousins sure, but I can't imagine rising them. Yeah Wendy didn't by that excuse by a long shot -she has two little brothers after all. Johnny needs to take lying lessons from Two-bit. How was his thoughts, his point of view on things? Spically church his mother...hoped you liked her backstory. I figured if she came to the hospital to see Johnny, their must be a small part of her that has that biological pull- wrapped and twisted though it is, towards her son.