A/N: Characters may be a little OOC here. Hopefully, you all enjoy it anyways. This is essentially an alternate ending where Johnny and Dally don't die but still falls in line with what the book is trying to say; you'll get more details in the story. Also, since this is an alternate ending, of course I'm going to emulate the book and have the story be in Pony's 1st person POV.
The first scene will seem very similar to the one from the book, but it's where it truly becomes an 'alternate ending'.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders in any way, shape, or form!
Trigger Warning: Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety
!~~~T~H~E~~O~U~T~S~I~D~E~R~S~~~!
War and Peace
"If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present." – Lao Tzu
When I woke up next, it was daylight and I was hot from all the blankets on me. I was also thirsty and hungry, but my stomach was so uneasy, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold anything down. I glanced around the room to see that Darry had pulled the armchair into the bedroom and was asleep in it.
'He should be at work,' I thought. 'Why is he asleep in the armchair?'
"Hey, Darry," I said softly, reaching over and shaking his knee. "Hey, Darry, wake up."
He opened his eyes. "Ponyboy, you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, "I think so."
Something had happened, something terrible...but I still couldn't remember it, even though I was thinking a lot clearer than the last time I had woken up.
Darry sighed in relief and pushed my hair back. "Gosh, kid, you had us scared to death?"
"What was the matter with me?"
He shook his head. "I told you you were in no condition for a rumble: exhaustion, shock, minor concussion. And Two-Bit came blubberin' over here with some tale about how you were running a fever before the rumble and how it was all his fault you were sick. He was pretty torn up that night," Darry said, quiet for a minute. He was quiet for a minute. "We all were."
That was when I remembered. Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade were dead. 'Don't think of them,' I thought.
"Where'd I get a concussion?" I asked. My head itched, but I couldn't scratch it because of the bandage on it. "How long have I been asleep?"
"You got a concussion from getting kicked in the head," Darry explained. "Soda saw it. He landed all over that Soc. I've never seen him so mad. I think he could have whipped anyone, in the state he was in. Today's Tuesday, and you've been asleep and delirious since Saturday night. Don't you remember?"
I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to remember how Johnny was my buddy, that he didn't want to die. I didn't want to remember Dally breaking down in the hospital, crumpling under the street light. I wanted to blank my mind completely.
"No," I said slowly. "Darry, I'm never going to be able to make up the school I've missed. And I've still got to go to court and talk to the police about Bob's getting killed. And now...w-with Dally..." I took a deep breath, "Darry, do you think they'll split us up? Put me in a home or something?"
He was silent. "I don't know, baby. I just don't know."
I stared at the ceiling. What would it be like, I wondered, staring at a different ceiling? What would it be like in a different bed, in a different room? There was a hard painful lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow.
First Mom and Dad, then Johnny and Dally. I don't think I'd be able to handle losing Darry and Sodapop too.
"Don't you even remember being in the hospital?" Darry asked. He was trying to change the subject. And I let him.
I shook my head, "I don't remember."
"You kept asking for me and Soda. Sometimes for Mom and Dad, too. But mostly for Soda."
Something in his tone of voice made me look at him. 'Mostly for Soda'. Did I ask for Darry at all, or was he just saying that?
"Darry..." I didn't know quite what I wanted to say. But I had a sick feeling that maybe I hadn't called for him while I was delirious, maybe I had only wanted Sodapop to be with me. What all had I said while I was sick? I couldn't remember. I didn't want to remember.
Don't remember. Don't remember. Don't remember.
"Where's Soda?" I asked, and I immediately mentally kicked myself afterwards. 'Why can't you talk to Darry, you idiot?' I asked myself. 'Why do you feel uncomfortable talking to Darry?'
Darry didn't seem to mind the change of subject, though. "Asleep, I hope. I thought he was going to go to sleep shaving this morning and cut his throat. I had to push him to bed, but he was out like a light in a second."
Darry's hopes that Soda was asleep were immediately ruined, because in that moment, he came running in, clad only in a pair of blue jeans.
"Hey, Ponyboy!" he yelped, and leaped for me, but Darry caught him.
"No rough stuff, little buddy."
So Soda had to content himself with bouncing up and down on the bed and pounding on my shoulder.
"Gosh, but you were sick. You feel okay now?"
"I'm okay. Just a little hungry." I couldn't help but crack a small smile.
"I should think you would be," Darry said. "You wouldn't eat anything most of the time you were sick. How'd you like some mushroom soup?"
I suddenly realized just how empty I was. "Man, I'd like that just fine."
"I'll go make some. Sodapop, take it easy with him, okay?"
Soda looked back at him indignantly. "You'd think I was going to challenge him to a track meet or something right off the bat."
"Oh, no," I groaned. "Track meet. I guess this just about puts me out of every race. I won't be back in condition for the meets. And the coach was counting on me."
"Golly, there's always next year," Soda said. Soda never has grasped the importance Darry and I put on athletics. Like he never has understood why we went all-out for studying. "Don't sweat it about some track meet."
"Soda," I said suddenly. "What all did I say while I was delirious?"
"Oh, you thought you were in Windrixville most of the time. Then you kept saying that Johnny didn't mean to kill that Soc. Hey, I didn't know you didn't like baloney."
I went cold. "I don't like it. I never liked it."
Soda just looked at me. "You used to eat it. That's why you wouldn't eat anything while you were sick. You kept saying you didn't like baloney, no matter what it was we were trying to get you to eat."
"I don't like it," I repeated. "Soda, did I ask for Darry while I was sick?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, looking at me strangely. "You asked for him and me both. Sometimes Mom and Dad. And for Johnny."
"Oh. I thought maybe I didn't ask for Darry. It was bugging me."
Soda grinned. "Well, you did, so don't worry. We stayed with you so much that the doctor told us we were going to end up in the hospital ourselves if we didn't get some sleep. But we didn't get any anyway."
I took a good look at him. He looked completely worn out; there were circles under his eyes and he had a tense, tired look to him. Yet his dark eyes were still laughing and carefree and reckless. Probably because he knew I was awake now.
Hopefully, he'd actually go to sleep now that he knew I'd be okay. Him and Darry both.
"Speaking of Johnny," Soda suddenly said, "there's something you need to know."
My stomach dropped, fearing for the worst, though I wasn't sure why. Johnny Cade was dead. His situation couldn't get much worse. Could it?
"Okay..." I said apprehensively, my gesture for Soda to keep talking.
"Johnny's still alive," came the bombshell. "Dally too."
All I could do was shake my head and softly ask, "W-What?" How was that possible? I saw both of them die right in front of me! How were both of them still alive?!
"The doctors were able to revive Johnny," Soda explained slowly, not missing a beat as if he expected me to react this way. "He's currently in the ICU, and Dally's going to be arrested once he recovers."
No. This wasn't possible. Johnny took his last breath, and Dally crumpled under that streetlight, and I witnessed both of them die with my own eyes. All I could do was shake my head in denial.
They were messing with me, weren't they? If they were, it was a terrible joke, one that was far from funny.
Darry entered the room with the soup right as I sternly told Soda, "I'll believe it when I see it."
I laid back down on the bed, willing myself to not buy anything Sodapop just told me about Dally and Johnny. Both of them were dead. I wasn't going to fall for this joke. I would not be given false hope.
I heard Darry ask Soda, "You told him?"
"Yeah. The doctor warned us that he'd be denial, but I guess I was hoping he wouldn't."
"He's been through a lot," Darry replied. "Let's give him some time to sort through all that before we drop anything else on him."
I didn't hear Soda's response, but I assumed he nodded, because their conversation ended right there.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
A couple days later, while still sick, I was well enough to join Soda in his daily trip to the hospital. It was his day off, but Darry had to go back to work.
They had tricked me. Apparently, Darry and Soda had another conversation when I was asleep, where they decided to follow me up on my word. As Soda explained to me on the drive there, maybe if I saw our friends for myself, I would indeed accept it.
We visited Johnny first. Like Soda said, he was in the ICU, being guarded by a nurse that was keeping a close eye on him. I stopped right outside his room, the door propped open. There he was, laying down on the bed, still covered in burns and bandages, a machine breathing for him.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, "He is alive." I felt like crying, but I willed myself not to. "I thought he died."
I felt Sodapop's hand on my shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort me, "He did die, honey. It was a close call."
Right. Johnny Cade did flatline that night, but Dally and I both had apparently left before we could see the doctors successfully get his heart going again. He was currently being closely monitored in the ICU until he recovered enough to get a normal room.
The nurse in the room gently said, "One visitor at a time," when she saw us.
Soda tapped my shoulder, "Go on. If you need anything, just holler."
I barely felt myself nod as I slowly entered the room. I could feel the nurse watching me as I saw down in the chair next to his bed.
"Hey Johnny," I greeted. "You scared me, but I'm glad you're still here." What should I say? I had no idea what to tell him. I was close to bursting into tears, but I knew I couldn't. Not here. Not when Johnny was still so close to dying. "I miss you," I said softly. "Please wake up soon. We can't finish Gone With the Wind otherwise."
Johnny's closed eyes began stirring just then. He didn't wake up, but the nurse told me that him reacting to my words was good news.
"Really?"
"Yes, it means that he could wake up soon," she explained. "You mentioned Gone With the Wind, right?" I nodded. "Are you Ponyboy, by chance?" I nodded again.
Why was she asking? Fortunately, the teasing I was expecting never came.
She nodded over at Gone With the Wind resting on the bedside table. "He told me he wrote a note for you and asked me to give the book to you so you could finish it." I swallowed a lump in my throat at the most recent mention that Johnny almost died. Except this time, I now knew that he was expecting to die.
I reached over and picked up the book. The moment I opened it, a slip of paper fell out onto the floor. I bent down and picked up. It was Johnny's handwriting, alright. As I read it, I could almost hear Johnny's quiet voice reading it all for me.
'Ponyboy,
I asked the nurse to give you this book so you could finish it. The doctor came in a while ago but I knew anyway. I keep getting tireder and tireder. Listen, I don't mind dying now. It's worth it. It's worth saving those kids. Their lives are worth more than mine, they have more to live for. Some of their parents came by to thank me and I know it was worth it. Tell Dally it's worth it. I'm just going to miss you guys.
I've been thinking about it, and that poem, that guy that wrote it, he meant you're gold when you're a kid, like green. When you're a kid everything's new, dawn. It's just when you get used to everything that it's day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That's gold. Keep that way, it's a good way to be. I want you to tell Dally to look at one. He'll probably think you're crazy, but ask for me. I don't think he's ever really seen a sunset.
And don't be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows.
Your buddy, Johnny.'
Tell Dally. Would he even listen? I doubted it.
I then realized that, if Johnny and Dally had died that day, then Johnny would've died a hero. People would be writing editorials praising his actions in saving the kids long after his death. After all, it would've been his injuries from the fire that he'd have died from. But no one would write articles praising Dally. He would've died a hood, just like he and everyone else knew he would. The gang and I would've known there was more to Dallas Winston than that, but no one else would.
I highly doubted that Dally would listen to me if I asked him to watch a sunset. He would find me crazy. But for Johnny, I knew I had to try.
But not just Johnny. For me. For the gang. For Dally.
"I will, Johnny," I suddenly said aloud. I knew I must've startled the nurse, because I had been quiet until now, but I didn't really care. "But you have to promise me that you won't give up so easily. I'll be back soon."
I stood up, tightly clutching Gone with the Wind in my arms. Soda was still standing outside, having watched me the entire time.
"I won't ask what the note said, kiddo," he said, "but did Johnny ask you to do something?"
"Yeah," I replied. "We need to see Dally."
Soda blinked, but didn't protest. On the way, he explained the reason for that reaction.
Dally wasn't in the ICU. He was recovering just fine. He was allowed visitors. But apparently, Dally didn't want any visitors, not even any of the gang.
Seeing the blank look on Dally's face when we arrived at his room told me everything.
He wanted to die, I realized. He wanted to die, but he didn't get his wish. He didn't get his wish, so he still wants to die. I had to do something. Before it was too late.
Two police officers were posted right outside the door, probably to ensure that he wouldn't escape before they officially arrested him. 'He doesn't want to escape,' I wanted to tell them. 'He just wants to die.'
Like with Johnny, Dally's door was propped open. There was a nurse there checking his vitals, and the open door allowed her to see us the moment we arrived.
She greeted Sodapop first, "Hello, Mr. Curtis. Unfortunately, Mr. Winston still doesn't want any visitors." Of course she knew my brother. He mentioned visiting Johnny and Dally while I was still delirious.
"We just want to see if he's okay," I quietly told her.
"I'm sorry," she shrugged. "We must comply with the patient's wishes."
I hung my head right as I heard Dally quietly call out, "Is that you, Pony...?"
I glanced up, hopeful, "Yes, it's me. Dally, please let me in. I need to talk to you."
The nurse looked back into the room at Dally, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Dally nod. The nurse stepped aside and let me into the room.
I sat in the chair next to his bed. Unlike Johnny, Dally was awake and aware of his surroundings, but his eyes were dull and dark.
"Dally?" I asked. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, kid." Really? You don't sound fine. "One of the bullets hit my intestines, but other than that..." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.
"That's good," I said. "None of the bullets hit anything vital. You're expected to make a full recovery."
"There's nothing good about it," he growled. "Johnny's gone."
"No, he's not," I said. "He's still alive."
There. If Dally didn't know that Johnny wasn't dead before, he knew now.
"I wouldn't say that," Dally replied. "In a state between life and death isn't what I'd call being 'alive'."
So he did know already.
"Have you visited him?" I chose to ask. Just like I knew it would, the atmosphere in the room suddenly got tense.
Once upon a time, I would've been too afraid to talk to Dallas Winston about anything, and even when I got more comfortable around him, I still had to watch what I said around him. I have a deep-rooted hated for reality, hence why I like books and movies so much. They were my way of escaping my problems, even if for only a minute. Dally always scared me, because he was real.
But now, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Not when Johnny had asked me to 'tell Dally'. Not when Dally's life was on the line.
Dally answered in a tone that warned me not to get mouthy. Johnny was that touchy of a subject for him right now. "No. I can't bring myself to see him in that state. Not again. Besides, you think the fuzz blocking the door would let me?"
I didn't have experience with cops like Dally did, so I ignored that part. But I did understand how difficult it was to see Johnny trying to fight for his life. After all, I was there that night too.
"He could hear me," I said quietly. "He didn't wake up, but he was trying to."
Dally was quiet, and I knew right then that I had struck a chord.
I continued, "I think it'd do you both a world of good if you visited him. He may not be awake, but he's at least partially aware of his surroundings. Hearing your voice may be what wakes him up. But before you do, you need to do something else."
"Yeah? What?" Dally asked, his voice still hard and empty.
"Watch a sunset."
Dally looked at me, finally showing emotion. Granted that emotion was mainly confusion and thinking I was crazy, but I took it. Right now, it was better than nothing. He was quiet when he finally spoke, "What?"
"Watch a sunset," I repeated, before explaining, "and not just a quick glance. From start to finish."
"Not really my thing, kid," and he was back to being emotionless again. Damn! I was so close!
"Johnny asked me," I admitted. "He wanted me to tell you that there's still lots of good in the world." I didn't give him a chance to reply; I was on a roll and I didn't want to stop. "And before you ask, yes, I agree with him. He doesn't regret saving those kids, and neither do I. In that moment, we both did what we thought was right. Those kids were younger than me, Dallas. They still had their whole lives ahead of them, and if we had just let them burn, they wouldn't be able to live those lives. And don't you dare make some snarky comment about all this, because your jacket was what kept me from getting too badly burned and you went in to save Johnny. Deep down, you know there is good in the world, no matter how many times you deny it."
I paused to catch my breath, during which Dally was finally able to reply. "I was trying to save you two. There's nothing good about me. Who cares if I kick the bucket?"
"We will." My voice was quiet as I reminded him of the gang. "Dally, you know there's no failure in not killing yourself, right?"
"Not much of a future either."
"Sure, there is," I replied. "Future's coming, with or without you. Being there's better than not."
"I don't know if you've noticed or not, Ponyboy Curtis," Dally replied, once again showing rare emotion: anger, "but my life has been hell. And no matter how many times you try to convince me otherwise, you can't deny that there are bad things out there too."
"No, I can't," I said, being reminded of my parents and that auto wreck that took them away from me. "But to see the good, you've got to stop looking for the bad."
"Who's looking for it?" Dally asked. "I mean, you can't get away from it."
"Then, you look around it," I shot back. "You look for the good, and if you can't find it, then you be the good."
"Oh, here we go again," Dally groaned.
I just about lost it here, "You're damn right, 'here we go'! It doesn't have to be anything big or something that makes it to the newspapers! You can start small! Like opening doors for strangers, or letting a car go ahead of you in traffic! Who cares?! Just smile more!" I then recited, "'If you find meanness, you kill it with kindness'. That's what you do."
Dally paused, as if I had just slapped him across the face, like I knew he would. I also knew why. 'Kill it with kindness' was something Mom always used to tell us. And Dally...he loved my mother. She was the mother figure he never had.
I finished my rant, "Just one, Dally. One sunset. That's all I'm asking."
Maybe I was different from the gang. Maybe I liked to read and watch sunsets and daydream. but Dallas had let me into his room, let me be his first visitor, for a reason. I didn't really know what that reason was, but there were some things I'd never understand. Dally was probably one of them.
And that was okay, because there were things about me that he'd never understand.
Dallas Winston was only seventeen. He still had his whole life ahead of him. But to live that life, he needed to stop drowning in misery. He needed to take one of his darkest hours and turn into one of his defining moments. Whatever he chose to do, however he chose to live his life now, was entirely up to him, but if he needed me, I'd be there.
Seeing that he wouldn't respond to me, I got up from the chair and left the room.
Sodapop was still waiting for me. Honestly, I had forgotten he was there. He slung an arm around my shoulders. As we started walking to the exit, he said, "That was amazing, Pony. You're the first person to talk to Dally like that and live."
"Second, actually. First was Johnny," I said, remembering the movies. "And I don't regret it. Dallas needed that."
"I know and I agree," Soda replied. "That's why I didn't object. Me and Steve were hurt when we first visited him and he refused to see us. He knew we were there, but...he just shook his head."
Dally had said that no one would care if he died, and I remembered telling him that we would. And by 'we', I meant the gang and me. I was hurt by what he insinuating too. Did he really think that we, his brothers essentially, wouldn't care if he died? We would.
Soda changed the subject, thankfully, "So Johnny asked you to show Dally a sunset?"
"Yeah," my voice went soft. "You think he'll listen?"
Soda nudged me with the arm already around my shoulders, "Honey, you didn't see the fire in his eyes as you left the room."
I smiled at that. There was hope, after all.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
It took about three and a half months for the trial concerning Bob Sheldon's murder to get a solid date. Everything was hold until Johnny either died for real or he recovered. Fortunately, it was the latter.
I visited Johnny whenever I could, and a week after that day, his eyes finally opened. It wasn't smooth sailing from there. Much of the recovery rested on Johnny, because he was still very much in danger of dying.
But he hung in there, and once the swelling in his back started going down, it was discovered that he could feel his legs again. That meant he'd be able to walk again, and while it also meant lots of physical therapy, he wouldn't be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He was expected to make a full recovery, aside from a few permanent scars from the burns.
We hadn't heard much from Dally during the first two months. Once the hospital released him, he was arrested. Since I had school, and Darry and Soda had work, the three of us weren't able to go to his trial, but Steve and Two-Bit were. They told us that Dally had plead guilty, and the judge let the sentence be pleaded down due to extreme emotional distress and the fact that the gun wasn't loaded at the time of the robbery. He had spent those two months in jail and was given two years' probation, with the understanding that he wouldn't be let off the hook so easily next time.
Johnny's nurse also admitted that Dally had asked to see Johnny before the police arrested him, and Johnny added that he could hear Dally's voice talking to him too. I smiled to that, because it meant that my words had some impact, at least.
And the day we finished Gone with the Wind was the same day the doctors decided to release Johnny, as long as he came back for physical therapy every Wednesday and Saturday.
Darry had to fight social services for Johnny to be released, because we hadn't heard from his parents since the day Two-Bit and I had run into Mrs. Cade. I only knew this because I caught Darry practically yelling at the State over the phone. It was only for a couple of seconds, because Steve and Two-Bit pushed me out the door and to the car for school. They excused it as not wanting to be late, but I knew they didn't care about whether or not they were late. After getting the truth out of them, they told me not to worry, but I started worrying anyways. I worried about what the State would do with Johnny now that he was released from the hospital.
I also started worrying about the upcoming trial, and if they would take me away from my brothers. I couldn't be split from them, not now. Not when Darry and I were finally getting along. Not when Soda was no longer required to be the middle man every single day. We'd always have our issues; it was only natural. But Darry and Soda were the only family I had left.
Dally returning to the house and being his old self helped pushed those fears away for a while.
Now, a month and a half later, those fears were back. It was the day of the trial, the day where everything Johnny and I had worked for could be broken down with one simple 'GUILTY'.
All seven of us had gone to the trial, with those who had to work having already requested the day off. Johnny had to take his crutches, since he was still in the midst of recovery and couldn't walk without them, but he and I both vowed to tell the truth.
Besides us, the only other people there were Bob's parents, Randy, his parents, Cherry, Marcia, their parents, and a couple of the other guys that had jumped Johnny and me that night. I don't know what I expected the whole thing to be like; I guess I've been watching too many Perry Mason shows.
Randy was questioned first. He looked a little nervous, and I wished they'd let him have a cigarette. I wished they'd let me have a cigarette; I was more than a little shaky myself. Darry had told Johnny and me to keep our mouths shut no matter what everybody else said, that we'd get our turn soon.
All the Socs told the same story and stuck to the truth, to our surprise. Cherry and Marcia both told the judge what had happened at the Nightly Double and after Johnny and I had been jumped, taking care to mention that Johnny and I weren't bothering them at all and that Bob and Randy were looking for the fight, not the other way around. I think I saw a couple of tears slide down Cherry's cheeks, but I'm not sure. Her voice was sure steady even if she was crying. The judge questioned everyone carefully, but nothing real emotional or exciting happened like it does on TV.
When it got to Johnny's turn, he calmly told everyone there the truth, the entire story. He told them how the Socs were drowning me, how he had to knife Bob before they killed me. Johnny was calm, but he was also remorseful. He regretted killing another human being, but he made sure everyone was aware that his friend was in danger, and that was the only reason he pulled out his switchblade.
I thought it would never get to my turn. Man, I was scared almost stiff by the time the judge got to me. I shuddered as the memories of almost drowning came back to me, but I powered through, knowing that Johnny's fate rided on me telling the truth. The judge then asked me if I liked living with Darry, if I liked school, what kind of grades I made, and stuff like that. I answered those carefully and honestly; yes, I loved living with Darry, and if the judge caught even the slightest hint that I didn't, then the State would swoop in and made sure I never saw my brothers again.
Darry and Soda both worked hard to ensure we would stay together, and I was not going to be the one to ruin that.
I guess I looked as scared as I really was, because the judge grinned at me and told me to quit chewing my fingernails. That's a habit I have.
When it came to the moment of truth, the judge said Johnny and I were acquitted on the grounds of it being self-defense. He then released us both to Darry's full custody.
With those words, all my fears went away. In that moment, everything was back to normal. At least, as normal as things could be after everything that happened.
Once we were outside the courthouse, all seven of us shared a group hug. The law was on our side, for once. We won the rumble and the trial. It was a victory all around.
When the group hug was released, Johnny turned to me and asked, "What does 'acquitted' mean?" The look on his face told me that he knew what that meant; he just couldn't believe it. He wanted me to confirm what he had heard.
So I smiled, "It means we're off the hook."
"No chair?"
"No chair," I replied. "We're free."
Johnny broke out into a tearful smile and wrapped me in a hug. He moved so suddenly, he let go of his crutches, which would have fallen to the ground if Dally didn't have such quick reflexes. I was now carrying most of his weight, but I didn't mind. He was crying tears of joy into my shoulder, and I didn't want to stop him. I supported him, in more ways than one, as he got it out of his system.
It was the least I could do for him.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
I would like to say that everything went back to normal after the trial, but it didn't.
The gang had refused to let Johnny return to his parents' house. It helped that Darry had full custody of him now, so he didn't have to. After the trial, Darry had explained his dealings with the State. Apparently, Darry had told them about Johnny's parents. They then had tried to get in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Cade, but were unable to. They then told the judge, who then decided to place Johnny in Darry's custody.
Simply put, Johnny was a ward of the State now, and they had chosen to officially place him with us. If they were looking into putting Johnny in foster care, they didn't tell Darry about it. But I knew Darry was ready to fight if they did.
Two days after the trial, I was in the supermarket to grab ingredients for a chocolate cake, thinking about my English final. Mr. Syme assigned us a five-page-long theme, though it could be longer if we wanted, based on personal ideas and experience, something we thought was important enough to write about. I was thinking about what to write, but I was stuck.
In the midst of thinking about that theme, I turned around a corner to get to the register, ready to leave, when I ran into a familiar face, one I never wanted to see again.
Johnny's mother was standing right there, in deep argument with a man that could only be Mr. Cade.
Before I could even think about what to do, Mrs. Cade locked eyes with me. "I know you! You're one of those hoodlums that my son preferred to see over his own mother!"
I was surprised she recognized me right away. My brown, almost reddish hair was starting to come back, but the blonde was still there.
I couldn't think of a reply, and even if I could, she wouldn't have let me say it. "Where is our son?! The State came by and told us we no longer had custody of him!"
The man, Mr. Cade, added vehemently, "They didn't even tell us why!"
'They probably did tell you,' I thought to myself. 'You were just too drunk to remember it.'
Take careful note that I only thought that. If I said it out loud, I would for sure be killed by this guy.
There was murderous rage in both of their eyes. This rage gave me the feeling that if they did find Johnny, they'd do worse than kill him. They'd beat him up and leave him for dead. And even if we, the gang, did find him and his injuries healed nicely, I knew he'd no longer be the same Johnny we remembered.
No, I couldn't tell them where Johnny was. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to him and I was the one at fault.
"So where is he?!" Mrs. Cade demanded.
In that moment, I made my choice, "I'm sorry. I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since the trial."
Before I could blink, Mr. Cade's hands were wrapped around my neck, and he was squeezing tight, "Don't lie to us, you useless brat!"
"What's going on here?!" came a stranger's voice. "Let go of him now! Security!"
Mr. Cade's hands were released from my neck, and I could breathe again. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Cade try to run away, only to be stopped by a couple of security officers. As I watched the guards detain the two, the stranger turned to me.
"You alright, son?" Now that I got a good look at his face, I recognized the stranger as the store manager.
I nodded. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. And don't worry about them," the guy replied. "They'll be arrested on grounds of assaulting another customer. You know what they wanted from you?"
"They-...they were angry because they abused their son and just lost custody of him. I have no emotional attachment to them whatsoever," I explained before holding up the items I needed to buy. "I need to go. My brothers are probably wondering what's taking me so long."
"I'll ring you up now," the manager said. He nodded at the guards to give them a nonverbal order before escorting me to an open register.
After I paid for the cake ingredients, I asked, "If a police investigation ensues, could you please leave me anonymous?" He nodded, and for that, I was grateful. I couldn't get involved in another investigation, not again. This time, the ramifications could be way worse than what we were given two days ago. As I grabbed the bag he put my items in, I said, "One last thing. Could you give those two a message? Tell them that if I did know where their son was, I'd never tell them, and that they need to accept the fact that their son is never coming back to them."
"I will," the manager replied. "As long as you take it easy. The way that man was grabbing you could leave a noticeable bruise on your neck."
Of course it could.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
That whole next week, I silently prayed for things to get better, to go back to normal.
Things seemed promising, at first. The fact that Mr. and Mrs. Cade were now in jail and wouldn't be getting out for a long time, according to the Shepard gang, made me feel better. It meant that I wouldn't be running into them again for at least a while. There was also the fact that, despite that store manager's warning, no bruise appeared on my neck.
If a bruise did appear there, and the gang noticed, I was prepared to shrug it off as the result of a Soc attack. It was believable enough. Even though the Socs were leaving us alone for the most part, there were a couple here and there that wanted revenge for Bob.
Three weeks ago, I was cornered at the DX by three of them. I didn't feel scared, though. In fact, I didn't feel anything at all, not even anger. Just zero. I just busted the end of my pop bottle and held it out in front of me, warning my attackers that I wasn't going to just lie down and take whatever punishment they were deciding to give me. I managed to scare them off before Steve, Soda, or Two-Bit could jump in to back me up.
Afterwards, my brother and two friends had asked me not to get tough. I couldn't understand why, though. Get smart and nothin can touch you, right? As Soda was in the midst of explaining that I wasn't like the rest of them, he trailed off as Steve asked me what I was doing.
I just looked up at them. "Picking up the glass."
They stared at me for a second, before grinning. "You little sonofagun," Two-Bit had said in a relieved voice. I didn't know what they were talking about, so I just went on picking up the glass from the bottle end and put it in a trash can. I didn't want anyone to get a flat tire.
Anyways, it had been a week now, and there were still no signs that a bruise was forming.
But that was as far as the good news went.
I had a brand new problem. Everywhere I went, whether it was school, the movie house, or the park, a fight always seemed to break out.
The fights were mostly between siblings and couples. And to my luck, they always seemed to get physical. Every time this happened, I always wanted to run away, because each one reminded me of my run-in with the Cades, but I didn't. Not because I chose to stand my ground.
Because I always seemed to be paralyzed with fear.
I was never the only one who stopped to watch the fight play out, and the fight was always broken up by someone, but I never got rid of my hatred of that encounter with Johnny's parents.
I hated them. I hated how quick they were to anger. I hated how they always found fault in everyone's actions but their own. I hated how they took all their frustrations out on their own son. But most of all, I hated how my encounter with them always seemed to haunt me no matter where I went.
That next Saturday, a week after, I was leaving the movie house when I saw yet another one of these fights break out, this time between a mother and a son. As some big tall, imposing guy stepped in before the woman could lay a finger on her son, I felt a sudden thought come to me as I stood there, frozen in fear.
Is this what Johnny feels like every day? Every time his dad beat him? Every time his mother yelled at him and called him worthless? Every time I was complaining about Darry and how hard he was on me?
I thought about all the times I was insensitive to Johnny, despite knowing what was going on at his house, whether by accident or whether I just plain forgot.
I'm sorry, Johnny. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...
I repeated in my head over and over.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
Later that day, when I got home, I was oddly on edge as I went through the door. I don't know what I was expecting. I entered the house to see the gang playing poker like they always did. They were sharing banter and roughhousing, like they always did. This should've made me happy, because things were finally starting to return to normal. But it didn't.
For some reason, it just made me anxious. Terrified that a fight was going to break out within the gang. I'm not sure how I knew this, but I just had a feeling that if the gang started fighting amongst themselves, I wouldn't be able to handle it.
So I just sat on the couch next to Johnny, watching that poker game with a careful eye, bracing myself for something that, in reality, had a very small chance of possibility.
But I had forgotten that I had sat down next to Johnny, the one person in the gang who could understand me without either of us saying a single word.
"Hey, Pony," Johnny greeted me as Two-Bit and Steve started fighting about Two-Bit's so-called new rules at poker, ones he just made up on the spot. "How was the movie?"
"It was alright," I replied. "The book was better, though."
"Like always," Johnny offered a smile, and I knew what he was doing. He had obviously noticed how anxious I was and was trying to calm me down. "You think we could read the book together?"
After reading Gone with the Wind, Johnny and I had decided to do the same with other books. I loved to read, and he loved listening to me read. The others didn't want to join in, but that was okay. I was used to that.
"Sure," I replied, before wincing upon seeing Steve tackle Two-Bit to the ground.
"You okay?" Johnny quietly asked, his voice low so the others didn't overhear us. "You're really jumpy today."
I tried to fake a smile, "Yeah, I-I'm fine." I internally winced when I stuttered. Way to be convincing there, Curtis. "Why?"
"Because you just winced as if someone was hittin' you."
I may have been trying to put on a brave face, but inside, I was utterly terrified. Not of Johnny, but because I hadn't rehearsed this in case the gang caught on to how I was acting. I didn't have any excuse I could lean back on, and Johnny had caught me red-handed.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, "I'm fine. Really. How was physical therapy?" Maybe a change of subject would make me feel better.
"It was exhausting but fine," Johnny said, before reminding me, "Two-Bit and Steve are just horseplayin'. They've done that before and you didn't react like this then."
My straight face was not convincing, as evidenced by Two-Bit adding, "Yeah, it's a normal thing for us, and something you've participated in before."
Great. Just great. Now the whole gang was looking at me and had noticed my behavior.
I grit my teeth as I repeated, "I'm fine. I promise."
Half of me didn't really understand why they were making such a big deal about this. The other half appreciated their concern, but maybe it was best that they didn't know about my encounter with the Cades.
"Honey?" came Sodapop's voice, filled to the brim with concern. "You are not fine. Something happened."
Did Johnny ever feel scared to tell us whenever his father hit him? Did he ever want to keep the insults his mother yelled at him a secret from us?
Apparently, I took too long to answer, because Darry punched the wall, groaning, "Dammit, Ponyboy! Just tell us!"
I didn't want to, but I couldn't control the wince that this caused. I also couldn't hide it; it had happened in plain view of the gang that was currently watching my every move. I didn't realize what had just happened until the room went quiet.
The entire room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop all the way across town. I was hoping to hide this from the gang until I could get over it. Not anymore. Now, there was no more hiding it. I sincerely was not okay, and something did indeed happen. Something bad.
"Pony, I-I'm so sorry," Darry stuttered. "I-I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's not you, Darry," I was quick to say.
I didn't look at anybody, only at my hands tightly clutched together in my lap. But I was being truthful. His mind was clearly going back to that night, the one that changed all of our lives, so he thought this was his fault. It wasn't. The only time Darry had laid a hand on me, it was an accident, and I had forgiven him for it. No, the Cades had hurt me on purpose.
Maybe that was why they were haunting me.
The gang deserved the truth, so I decided on honesty, "Last Saturday, I ran into Johnny's parents at the supermarket." The others all visibly tensed up at this. "I was about to leave when I turned the corner, and...there they were. Fightin' each other. Before I could react, they saw me and told me the State had come by and told them they no longer had custody of Johnny, before...asking me if I knew where he was."
"You didn't tell them, did you?" Two-Bit asked.
My answer was immediate, "Of course not."
"Why not?" Johnny cut in, quietly, slgiht hope filling his voice. I knew he was thinking that if they asked about him, maybe they did care, after all. "If they asked-"
I cut him off, "They didn't actually ask, persay...more like straight-up threatened."
When gauging the gang's reaction to that, I saw a collective sense of realization and understanding. And more anger.
Dally continued, "Good job not telling them, Pony." I nodded, trying to produce a smile but unable to. When Johnny gave a confused look, Dally continued, "What do you think your parents are likely to do to you if they caught up with you now, Johnnycakes? You ain't been home in months, not to mention that trouble with the fuzz."
"If you saw the look in their eyes, you'd understand," I softly added. "If they found you now, Johnny, you'd never survive the encounter."
He and I locked gazes, with me mentally pleading with him to understand what what I meant by that. Fortunately, he did, judging how his expression turned from confusion to sad understanding.
He wouldn't be Gold anymore. And I couldn't let that happen.
I continued, "They only seemed to get mad when I lied and said I hadn't seen him since the trial. So mad, they-..." I trailed off, only subconciously bringing a hand up to my neck, afraid it was going to be attacked again.
I heard Johnny gasp and Two-Bit, Steve, Darry, and Dally curse. Sodapop sat down on my other side and began examining my neck, "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine," I replied. "The store manager stepped in before things could escalate."
Sodapop did not ease up his concern. Darry kneeled in front of me, "Why didn't you tell us before?"
"Because I thought it was better if you guys didn't know." Truth. "Shepard says they're in jail, so no sense in making you guys worry if it's not necessary." Again, truth.
But I was leaving out a third reason: Because I was scared.
"But why was our play fighting affecting you when it never did before?" Steve asked. I inwardly groaned, hoping this wouldn't be brought up.
"Because since then, no matter where I go, a fight always breaks out," I replied, once again staring at my lap. "And not play fights neither. Family-splitting ones that have a strong chance at turning physical. And no matter how hard I try, I can't escape them. I thought I'd be fine...until today...'cause I know I'd never be able to take that happening in my house."
If anything positive did come from the experience, it was the newfound appreciation I had for Darry. It may be hard on me at times, but he'd never become Mr. Cade.
"You said they're in jail now?" Two-Bit asked. I nodded. "Good. It's where they belong."
"They belong in hell," Dally corrected. "Those bastards already crossed the line with abusing their own son, but they've sunken to a whole new low by harrassing Ponyboy too."
As the gang stewed in their collective anger, I finally realized why they were so concerned about me. Because I was acting like Johnny: nervous, full of anxiety, jumping at my own shadow.
Steve then told me, "Ponyboy, next time something like this happens, you need to tell us. Don't keep it secret. Especially if your attackers are people like Johnny's folks."
I nodded, fully intending on keeping that promise.
"It's kinda bad they're in jail though," Two-Bit grumbled. "I really want to rough them up."
"Shepard would tell us if they got out somehow," I offered. It was true. I had told Tim of the situation, and being against domestic abuse himself, he easily agreed to keep an eye on the Cades. "If they ever escape, you can rough 'em up then."
Two-Bit shrugged, while Dally eased up, but both were still pissed. Everyone was, especially me. Now that I had gotten everything off my chest, the fear was subsiding and quickly being replaced by the anger I had felt towards the Cades from before.
Johnny was quiet up until now, "Let's not worry about that now." He had a tight grip on my arm, as if afraid I was going to disappear. In a sense of irony, he then changed the subject, "Tell us why the book is better than the movie."
I softly smiled at him, and I chose not to protest. If Johnny didn't want to talk about his parents, then I wouldn't.
"I don't think the writers understood the protagonist's character arc at all," I said.
Johnny cracked a smile, "How so?"
"Well, they write him as a one-dimensional superhero, the one you'd see in a comic book," I explained. "But the book portrays him as a troubled anti-hero. Reminds me of Dally, actually."
I barely heard a few sighs of relief, as Dally casually asked, "I'm flattered, but how does this guy remind you of me?"
They were relieved. Relieved that I wasn't going to let my encounter with the Cades to harden me. Relieved that I was still the Ponyboy they knew.
"He grew up in a rough neighborhood," I said. "The realities of life hardened him, but despite that, he still cares about people, especially this one kid who's essentially about to grow up and become the same way. He doesn't want that. He just wants the kid to retain their innocence."
Was that why the gang tried so hard to protect me? Why they worked hard to ensure I wouldn't become hard like Dally or Tim? I was different than any other Greaser I knew. Not only was I sensitive and not afraid to show my emotions, but I also had the best chance to go to college and make something of myself. Was the gang trying to preserve that?
If so, they were like Darry in that respect. If they really wanted to give me that chance, I wasn't going to waste it.
So I continued to rant until Darry finished making dinner. No one interrupted me. And I was glad.
It was the first time I didn't feel like such a loner.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
Dinner really calmed me down. The others still exchanged their classic banter, but they largely avoided getting physical. I was grateful for this. I wanted to stay away from fighting, especially in-fighting and civil wars, as much as possible for a while.
After dinner, I went out to the front porch and sat on the steps to watch the sunset. I wasn't alone for long, as Johnny came out and sat down next to me soon after.
"You're still being bothered by something," he said, setting his crutches against the nearby wall. "I thought it'd help if we talked in private this time."
I mentally thanked him, before verbally telling him, "I'm sorry."
I could tell this caught him off-guard, even though my gaze was locked onto the sun and it's colorful dance across the sky.
"F-For what?"
"For being so insensitive," I softly explained. "All those times I complained about Darry to you. It wasn't fair for you to have to hear all that. So I'm sorry." All those times just made me seem ungrateful for how good I had it. I paused, before asking something else, "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Keep your head." This was really bugging me. I felt tears start to pool in my eyes. "One run-in with your parents have shaken me up to the point where I relive it in my nightmares. But you've managed to keep your sanity this whole time."
Johnny warmly smiled, "Your apology ain't really needed, I don't think, but if it makes you feel better, I forgive you." His smile fell, his voice now solemn, "Keep in mind, Pony, that you're shaken up because this is the first time something like this has happened to you. Someone that's never hurt you actually hurts you on purpose. You know Darry slapping you was an accident, so you forgive him," I nodded, "while you expect the Socs to hurt you, because they always do, so they don't haunt you as much." He fell quiet, "I remember the first time my old man hit me. I was six years old, and when it happened, I was confused. I kept asking myself what I did wrong and what I could do fix things. But I never got an answer from them, and eventually, I got used to it. Two years later, my mother started beatin' me right there on the sidewalk, but Dally stepped in out of nowhere and told her to go away in no polite terms. That's the nicest way of putting it, anyways." I cracked a smile, expecting no less from Dally. Johnny continued, "Dally then took me to the Curtis house and introduced the gang to me."
"I remember that day," I finally said, smiling. "Mom practically adopted you on the spot."
It was Johnny's turn to smile, "Yeah. She and your dad knew what was going on at my house without even having to ask." My smile began to fade as I realized something, and Johnny noticed, "What's wrong?"
"Next week marks one year," I said. The one year anniversary of Mom and Dad's deaths. I didn't have to elaborate. Johnny already knew.
"You still miss them, don't you?"
"I always will. A lot of things have changed since then," I replied, before struggling to hold back my tears. "We could've easily lost you and Dally too."
Johnny placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry. Me and Dally are still here. And we're not going anywhere."
I smiled back at him, before we both turned back to the sunset, watching as the orange and purple blended together to create a beautiful blend of colors. The silence made it even better. This moment only lasted about two minutes, but those two minutes were everything to me. Two minutes where all my cares and concerns had flown right out the window. Two minutes where I wasn't haunted by anything. Two minutes where the only things that existed was me, Johnny, and the setting sun.
And the best part was that I wasn't alone this time. Johnny was here, and he was watching it too. Not just watching it, but he also appreciated the beauty of this moment like I did.
A sudden voice made both of us jump, "You weren't kiddin', were you, Pony?" We turned around to see Dally and, to my surprise, the rest of the gang standing there.
"About what?" I asked.
"Sunsets, kid," Dally replied. "In the hospital. You were right."
A smile crept onto my face. My words actually had an impact on him.
"Golly, those colors," Two-Bit cut in. "And the silence. That was tuff. Despite the atrocities that life can bring, it can also bring in beauties that make life worth livin'."
Steve nudged him, "When did you get so sappy?"
Two-Bit nudged back, "You say that when you were the one tearin' up, Stevie."
I chuckled, "Two-Bit's right. Now y'all know the main reason I like watchin' sunsets."
Things are rough all over, but not matter what happens, there's still good in the world.
"'Main reason'?" Soda asked. "What other reason is there?"
"Mom liked watching 'em too," I softly reminded him. "I guess it's my own way of keeping her alive."
Darry reached down and affectionately pat my head, as Soda sat down on the steps next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. My two brothers understood what I meant, and they agreed.
Mom and Dad weren't just mine, Soda, and Darry's parents. They were the parents of the whole gang. Mom was the only one who could keep Dally in line, while Dad fully understood the main reason for Two-Bit's jokester attitude. They understood why Steve was always so angry with his father and why Johnny always ran away to our house every other night. They made sure the boys were always well fed and safe. It crushed all seven of us to learn that they had died, that we'd never see either of them again.
Mom and I used to watch the sunset together, as our way of escaping reality for a few moments. Now, I can always feel a part of her watching it with me.
Maybe Soda looked like Mom but acted like Dad, and Darry looked like Dad but acted like Mom. Maybe I didn't look or act like either of them, but I like to thing I'm a combination of both Mom and Dad. That I inherited the best parts of them both. At least, in personality.
As for my looks, my best guesses would be either recessive genes or incomplete dominance.
Mom and Dad lived good lives, but they were cut short. Their deaths probably happened so suddenly, and that made me both glad and sad. Glad, because it means they didn't suffer, at least for long. Sad, though, because it means they didn't get a chance to tell their story.
Bob Sheldon didn't get to tell his story either. He may have done bad things, but according to Cherry and Randy, I only met the Soc side of him. He had a human side too. He had parents who never disciplined him. What was Bob like when he wasn't drunk or jumping Greasers? What would he do if he had lived that night? Would he still be the same, jumping Greasers for fun? Or would he have changed, because Johnny stabbing him was essentially his way of telling Bob 'no'? Sadly, I'd never know the answer to those questions.
Socs still hated Greasers. I couldn't change that. But I didn't hate Socs anymore. Instead, I felt bad for them, because they were human beings too, like us Greasers. They had their own set of problems, ones that we'd never understand. It was the other way around too. Maybe I could do something that could convince both sides to come at an impasse, to stop the unnecessary violence on both sides, to help change society's way of viewing both sides of the same coin.
Dally and Johnny both almost died without a chance to tell their stories. It still stung to this day. I'd never get over seeing Johnny flatline, seeing Dally crumple up underneath that streetlight, thinking that I had lost two friends in one day.
Maybe...just maybe I could be their voice. Maybe I could speak up for those who could not speak for themselves. Whether it was because they were too scared or physically did not have a voice, I could tell their stories. People needed to know what it was really like.
As the sky began to get dark and the stars came out, I finally found the perfect topic for my English theme.
!~~~W~A~R~~A~N~D~~P~E~A~C~E~~~!
That night, I snuck out of bed after hearing everyone else turn in. I was careful not to wake up Soda, though I'd have to deal with his concern in the morning if I didn't finish by then. With a composition book and pen in hand, I looked back at Soda. He was sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world.
I knew that wasn't true. Sodapop had troubles like everybody else. Sandy's baby wasn't Soda's. Steve told me the whole story after school one day while we were waiting for Two-Bit, this time nicely when I asked. It turns out that Sandy cheated on Soda with another man, and she had moved to Florida with her grandmother due to her actions being socially unacceptable. Soda had written her a letter, still wanting to marry her, but it was returned unopened. I was surprised, to say the least. No wonder Soda was sad. He was heartbroken that the girl he loved so much didn't love him as much as he thought she did.
Not to mention, according to Darry, Soda cried that entire week I was gone. Me and Sandy both within the span of five days. He must've been so happy to see me in that hospital.
When Soda got home that day, I immediately hugged him and apologized for Sandy and for everything I put him through. I had realized that I never really paid attention to Soda's problems. Darry and I just took it for granted that he didn't have any. But he did. And being mine and Darry's constant middle man never helped matters at all. I felt guilty; I never wanted to hurt him. But he forgave me, though citing it wasn't really my fault, and we're still as close as ever.
I smiled before moving onto Darry's room, which was formerly Mom and Dad's room. It was about a month or so before Darry decided to move in, hesitating because he didn't want to violate their memory. But that changed after Soda moved in with me to help me with my nightmares. Darry moved into our parents' old room because it was closer than his and Soda's room. Less steps had to be taken to get to my room.
That little fact was more useful now that I had returned home from Windrixville. Soda wasn't the only one who grieved that week. Darry did too. The others told me, and it was evident, that he'd been beside himself with guilt, considering him hitting me had made me run out in the first place, leading to Johnny and me getting jumped, leading to Bob getting killed, leading Johnny and me to run away for real. I had told him that I had forgiven him, and now, he wasn't so hard on me. Both of us were making a better effort at understanding each other. But I knew that he'd never forgive himself for that night.
I moved onto Soda and Darry's old bedroom, which had become Johnny's room. Both he and Dally were sleeping in the bed, as closely as their injuries would let them.
During his recovery, Johnny had taken up a sudden interest in drawing. Most people would say he wasn't very good at it, but he had a unique style, very surreal, as if they were his thoughts and feelings put on paper. Hanging up the drawings he was particularly proud of made his room a lot less bare and cold. Now, it felt warm and inviting, a place Johnny really could call his own. He was still going to have issues, with his parents and with Socs both, but judging by the constant smile on his face now, I think Johnny's suffering was over for the most part.
Dally had barely left Johnny's side once he served his two-month sentence. Just as Soda was tightly clinging to me at night, afraid I was going to disappear again, Dally was the same way with Johnny. He cared about Johnny the same way Darry and Soda cared for me. Both were still recovering from their injuries, so it would be some time before they would be back allowed in a rumble if Darry had anything to say about it.
I wandered into the kitchen, breifly glancing at the living room, where Steve was sleeping on the couch and Two-Bit in the armchair.
The same day Steve told me the full story about Sandy was the same day he apologized to me for being a jerk all the time. Steve ain't good at emotions, but he had thanked me for saving Dally and reassured me that Soda didn't blame me for any of his problems. He also admitted that seeing Sandy betray Soda like that made Steve fear the possibility of Evie doing the same to him.
That day, I found out that Steve was actually a really stand-up guy; he just as a bad temper than was mainly the result of his ass of a father. We just never gave each other a chance, because of his thinking I was just a tagalong. Neither of us wanted to hurt Soda, so we both agreed to try to form an actual friendship. And so far, things were going alright.
Two-Bit stayed overnight at our house the least often. His family life was the best out of all of us. Despite his absent father, he still had a mother and a kid sister who he was on good terms with. He seemed the least changed, which we were thankful for. His jokes made the day ten times better.
However, both of them were staying the night now way more than they did before. This whole ordeal with Bob brought us closer. We weren't just buddies anymore; we were brothers. We'd gone through too much together to consider otherwise. We now all slept in the same house at night to stay close together, as if to make sure we were all still there.
It was annoying having to wait for the bathroom to open up in the morning, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Seeing that the others were all asleep, I retreated back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
Earlier, I had decided to be a voice for those who couldn't speak for themselves.
I couldn't stop picturing hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I couldn't stop seeing boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did. Boys who died without a second chance to live.
It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me.
I opened my composition book and titled my theme 'A Different Sunset', and I finally started them theme like this:
"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..."
!~~~T~H~E~~O~U~T~S~I~D~E~R~S~~~!
A/N: The title of Pony's theme there, "A Different Sunset", is the title S.E. Hinton originally gave The Outsiders.
Also, Ponyboy's rant about that main character's inconsistent portrayal is one of the usual rants I have when watching a movie that was adapted from a book. Often, I'll complain about how the movie left out a scene that may have been insignificant, but in reality, is actually really important to a character's arc or the story as a whole.