Slashed Tires Chapter 28
A/N: Again, bad innuendoes…they've actually gotten worse now. I don't know why I put them there, it just seemed to fit Dally's original personality, which I don't think I've been following too well. Also, if anyone's read Tex, the hospital scene inspired me. Anyway, apologies.
P.S. I don't know why there was so much focus on the nurses. I really don't.
P.P.S. Maybe a little hokey at the end. More apologies.
~
The sphere spun wildly, a melange of red, white and blue. It flew heavenward, pausing for a moment in midair, set against the painted, white, glassy background. Then, slowly at first but rapidly gaining speed, it began to fall, back to the ground from whence in came from as gravity clicked in. The perfect circular object was bounced skyward yet again, soaring, floating, and tumbling in a perfect unbroken sequence.
Then Dallas made the mistake of trying to catch it with his bad arm.
"Shit! SHIT!" he yelled, grimacing against the pain, the baseball landing on the tiled floor with an audible crack before rolling, forgotten, beneath the hospital bed. Swearing through gritted teeth, Dallas gently rubbed his sore arm. Someone knocked tentatively on his door.
"Go away!" he shouted. "I don't want no drugs, my arm is fine!" But whoever it was ignored him and opened the door.
Dally turned his back to the door, and glared angrily out the window at the brilliant morning. He punched at the pillow (which was white, like everything else in this goddamn hellhole). He'd spent a sleepless night in the hospital bed, worrying about everything and trying not to, his arm hurting and itching so bad he almost wished he could have cut it off. He'd had a roommate (a middle class man in his twenties who was scared of him) who, in the middle of the night, had woken up the whole floor from his sobs of pain. Even after pressing the nurse-call button about thirty times, no one came, so Dallas had to force himself to walk dizzily down to the nurse station where they dragged him back, drugged him some more and yelled at him about moving before carting away his roommate. Dally hadn't relaxed since then.
"How's your arm." Dally didn't answer the nurse; she didn't really care anyway. The woman's heels clicked on the floor, her white skirt swished audibly around her thighs. She reached beneath the bed, snatching up the baseball, turning her round backside toward the blond. Dally scowled, looking away, trying to ignore the way her skirt rode up on her curvy hips. The nurse leaned over, placing the ball on the table beside him. Dally had to force himself not to look down her shirt. He knew exactly why the nurses were so attractive – the doctors were so bloody old and ugly that they couldn't get any on their own time.
Dallas squirmed as the nurse drew clean white sheets over his body, trying to think of anything but what was going on between his legs. His mind went immediately to his aching arm, which was bothering him more than his crotch anyway.
"Why does it itch so much?" he asked, trying to draw the nurse's attention to his face; hopefully, she wouldn't notice he was turned on.
The nurse raised her eyebrows. She had considerably less makeup on than the others, though this wasn't much of an improvement; her lipstick was chewed off in places, and one eye was darker than the other was.
"Why does WHAT itch?" she asked flatly, casting a suspicious look down south.
"My ARM," Dally replied dryly, hoping he wasn't blushing.
"How would I know? Do I look like a doctor?" The nurse snapped irritably. Dally's eyes widened in surprise. Most of the other nurses weren't as crabby. Most of the other nurses answered everything in a monotone, and usually one-syllable answers. Most of the other nurses were afraid of him.
The nurse patted the sheet down his body. Dally jumped feeling the flat of her hand hit his groin. The nurse smirked at him, raising her uneven eyebrows knowingly.
"I want a cigarette," Dally said quickly, trying to recover his dignity.
The nurse shook her head. "No smoking."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"Yeah? Well, fuck you." The nurse was startled at this. She looked sharply at Dallas, mouth wide open in surprise, anger tinting her large eyes. Dally yawned deliberately.
"Listen girlie, I wanna smoke."
~
Johnny woke again. The numbness only went up midway now; he could feel his body above the middle of his back now. He almost wished he couldn't. Johnny's brain was a muddle of thought, trying to block out the one fact he didn't want to know: he was dying.
"Pony?" he asked hoarsely. No one replied. Johnny licked his lips nervously, trying to look around the room without moving. He couldn't see much from his position flat on his back. "Two-Bit?"
"They left." The nice nurse, Johnny thought, feeling somewhat comforted. He liked the nice nurse, and only the nice nurse.
Her head poked over him, smiling reassuringly. She tucked the sheets in beside him, her grin never wavering. "Honey, you sure you don't want to see your mother?" she asked absently. Johnny stiffened. A piercing pain shot down his spine and he gasped aloud.
"No!" he almost shouted. "I don't wanna see her!" He didn't want to waste what time he had…his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched tightly, the fact that he didn't have much time hurting more than anything. He was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been in his lifetime of constantly being afraid.
"Alright, alright, relax honey," the nurse said hastily, backing up. Her eyes fluttered around the room in the awkward silence, searching for something, any distraction.
"This book!" she cried suddenly. "Your friends left it…" Johnny strained desperately, trying to see the novel she now held in her hands. 'Ponyboy,' he thought smiling. Ponyboy was the closest thing he had to a brother. He could imagine Pony now. He'd be worried about him, Johnny knew. Ponyboy cared about him, really cared. And he understood things that no one else could. Only Ponyboy knew how much he really worshiped Dallas, and only Ponyboy would understand about it.
"Do you want me to read it to you?"
Johnny looked up at the nurse, wanting to say yes. But his urgency was too great. There were other things he wanted to do.
"Where's Dallas?" His voice quavered. "I want to see him."
The nurse shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "I'm sorry honey but he can't see you now."
"How is he?" Johnny said softly.
The nurse's brow creased in a frown. "I don't know for sure honey, I haven't seen him…but word is that he's okay," she added quickly, not wanting to upset Johnny any more than he was.
"Ponyboy?"
"Which one's that?"
"Young. Blond. Came here." He already felt too talkative. He wasn't used to speaking to strangers. Even nice strangers.
The nurse's brow creased in a frown of confusion. "He looked alright to me honey."
"I-need-to-talk-to-him." Johnny's mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He knew already that his friend was gone, he didn't need to hear the nurse say it again, her red mouth twisting with the words.
"He's not here, honey."
Johnny nodded absently, a sudden calm settling down over him. He could see the boy in his mind's eye, so innocent, so pure…so gold. Johnny closed his eyes. He knew so much about Ponyboy; at times he could almost read his mind. There was so much he wanted to tell his best friend, but he knew, and this time he wasn't so afraid, that he didn't have much time. A sense of purpose filling his serene mind, he opened his eyes again.
"Do me a favour," he said to the nurse in his quiet voice, and for once it didn't waver. "You'll need a pen."
A/N: Again, bad innuendoes…they've actually gotten worse now. I don't know why I put them there, it just seemed to fit Dally's original personality, which I don't think I've been following too well. Also, if anyone's read Tex, the hospital scene inspired me. Anyway, apologies.
P.S. I don't know why there was so much focus on the nurses. I really don't.
P.P.S. Maybe a little hokey at the end. More apologies.
~
The sphere spun wildly, a melange of red, white and blue. It flew heavenward, pausing for a moment in midair, set against the painted, white, glassy background. Then, slowly at first but rapidly gaining speed, it began to fall, back to the ground from whence in came from as gravity clicked in. The perfect circular object was bounced skyward yet again, soaring, floating, and tumbling in a perfect unbroken sequence.
Then Dallas made the mistake of trying to catch it with his bad arm.
"Shit! SHIT!" he yelled, grimacing against the pain, the baseball landing on the tiled floor with an audible crack before rolling, forgotten, beneath the hospital bed. Swearing through gritted teeth, Dallas gently rubbed his sore arm. Someone knocked tentatively on his door.
"Go away!" he shouted. "I don't want no drugs, my arm is fine!" But whoever it was ignored him and opened the door.
Dally turned his back to the door, and glared angrily out the window at the brilliant morning. He punched at the pillow (which was white, like everything else in this goddamn hellhole). He'd spent a sleepless night in the hospital bed, worrying about everything and trying not to, his arm hurting and itching so bad he almost wished he could have cut it off. He'd had a roommate (a middle class man in his twenties who was scared of him) who, in the middle of the night, had woken up the whole floor from his sobs of pain. Even after pressing the nurse-call button about thirty times, no one came, so Dallas had to force himself to walk dizzily down to the nurse station where they dragged him back, drugged him some more and yelled at him about moving before carting away his roommate. Dally hadn't relaxed since then.
"How's your arm." Dally didn't answer the nurse; she didn't really care anyway. The woman's heels clicked on the floor, her white skirt swished audibly around her thighs. She reached beneath the bed, snatching up the baseball, turning her round backside toward the blond. Dally scowled, looking away, trying to ignore the way her skirt rode up on her curvy hips. The nurse leaned over, placing the ball on the table beside him. Dally had to force himself not to look down her shirt. He knew exactly why the nurses were so attractive – the doctors were so bloody old and ugly that they couldn't get any on their own time.
Dallas squirmed as the nurse drew clean white sheets over his body, trying to think of anything but what was going on between his legs. His mind went immediately to his aching arm, which was bothering him more than his crotch anyway.
"Why does it itch so much?" he asked, trying to draw the nurse's attention to his face; hopefully, she wouldn't notice he was turned on.
The nurse raised her eyebrows. She had considerably less makeup on than the others, though this wasn't much of an improvement; her lipstick was chewed off in places, and one eye was darker than the other was.
"Why does WHAT itch?" she asked flatly, casting a suspicious look down south.
"My ARM," Dally replied dryly, hoping he wasn't blushing.
"How would I know? Do I look like a doctor?" The nurse snapped irritably. Dally's eyes widened in surprise. Most of the other nurses weren't as crabby. Most of the other nurses answered everything in a monotone, and usually one-syllable answers. Most of the other nurses were afraid of him.
The nurse patted the sheet down his body. Dally jumped feeling the flat of her hand hit his groin. The nurse smirked at him, raising her uneven eyebrows knowingly.
"I want a cigarette," Dally said quickly, trying to recover his dignity.
The nurse shook her head. "No smoking."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"Yeah? Well, fuck you." The nurse was startled at this. She looked sharply at Dallas, mouth wide open in surprise, anger tinting her large eyes. Dally yawned deliberately.
"Listen girlie, I wanna smoke."
~
Johnny woke again. The numbness only went up midway now; he could feel his body above the middle of his back now. He almost wished he couldn't. Johnny's brain was a muddle of thought, trying to block out the one fact he didn't want to know: he was dying.
"Pony?" he asked hoarsely. No one replied. Johnny licked his lips nervously, trying to look around the room without moving. He couldn't see much from his position flat on his back. "Two-Bit?"
"They left." The nice nurse, Johnny thought, feeling somewhat comforted. He liked the nice nurse, and only the nice nurse.
Her head poked over him, smiling reassuringly. She tucked the sheets in beside him, her grin never wavering. "Honey, you sure you don't want to see your mother?" she asked absently. Johnny stiffened. A piercing pain shot down his spine and he gasped aloud.
"No!" he almost shouted. "I don't wanna see her!" He didn't want to waste what time he had…his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched tightly, the fact that he didn't have much time hurting more than anything. He was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been in his lifetime of constantly being afraid.
"Alright, alright, relax honey," the nurse said hastily, backing up. Her eyes fluttered around the room in the awkward silence, searching for something, any distraction.
"This book!" she cried suddenly. "Your friends left it…" Johnny strained desperately, trying to see the novel she now held in her hands. 'Ponyboy,' he thought smiling. Ponyboy was the closest thing he had to a brother. He could imagine Pony now. He'd be worried about him, Johnny knew. Ponyboy cared about him, really cared. And he understood things that no one else could. Only Ponyboy knew how much he really worshiped Dallas, and only Ponyboy would understand about it.
"Do you want me to read it to you?"
Johnny looked up at the nurse, wanting to say yes. But his urgency was too great. There were other things he wanted to do.
"Where's Dallas?" His voice quavered. "I want to see him."
The nurse shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "I'm sorry honey but he can't see you now."
"How is he?" Johnny said softly.
The nurse's brow creased in a frown. "I don't know for sure honey, I haven't seen him…but word is that he's okay," she added quickly, not wanting to upset Johnny any more than he was.
"Ponyboy?"
"Which one's that?"
"Young. Blond. Came here." He already felt too talkative. He wasn't used to speaking to strangers. Even nice strangers.
The nurse's brow creased in a frown of confusion. "He looked alright to me honey."
"I-need-to-talk-to-him." Johnny's mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He knew already that his friend was gone, he didn't need to hear the nurse say it again, her red mouth twisting with the words.
"He's not here, honey."
Johnny nodded absently, a sudden calm settling down over him. He could see the boy in his mind's eye, so innocent, so pure…so gold. Johnny closed his eyes. He knew so much about Ponyboy; at times he could almost read his mind. There was so much he wanted to tell his best friend, but he knew, and this time he wasn't so afraid, that he didn't have much time. A sense of purpose filling his serene mind, he opened his eyes again.
"Do me a favour," he said to the nurse in his quiet voice, and for once it didn't waver. "You'll need a pen."