1 We're Back Chapter 4
A/N: Hello all! Thank you much for the reviews! By the way, Sugarmonkey...Eleanor, ruin Dally's rep? Oh, she will DESTROY it. Crush it, grind it into tiny pieces and blast it into oblivion (yeah, I'm a Star Wars fanatic. Horror of horrors). Mwahaha…ok sorry, it's my birthday and I'm hyper. But, I kinda think she will ruin it.
P.S. I got writer's block. This chapter moves really slowly and somewhat uselessly. It'll go somewhere later.
P.P.S. I'm swearing again. Too hard not to.
~
Steve licked his lips, eyes flicking madly back and forth between his own hands and Soda's eyes. His best friend's face remained impassive, his eyes stony and unforgiving. There was no way Soda would back down. He stood firm, a tiny smile crossing his lips as Steve finally spoke:
"Ya got any aces?"
From where she lay, immobilised by the weight on her legs, Eleanor let out a loud groan. She'd given up being self-conscious within around them after the first hour. The two boys looked up.
"You aren't going to win," she said frankly, rolling her eyes at Steve. "He's beaten you the last 5 games. Give it up man! You suck at cards."
Steve shoved off her legs and scowled. "I don't suck. HE sucks. And anyway, it's a matter of life and death here. You don't know what he could make me do. This morning-"
"Yeah, yeah you told me. About a million times and you've only been here for 2 hours. ILLEGITIMATE hours, by the way," she added, "seeing as visitors aren't allowed-"
"Illegitimate?"
"Wow, when did you grow a brain?"
Eleanor sighed. The two had teased her whenever she said anything remotely intelligent until she'd lapsed into silence, helplessly watching them deal another round. She was beginning to be very frustrated with the person she was living in. For starters, he was a smoker (her body told her as much) and apparently did drugs and drunk girls, if Tim was trustworthy enough (though, she wasn't sure if he was). Not to mention he didn't know diddlysquat.
"Illegitimate means it's ILLEGAL," she said crossly, and Steve laughed.
"So we're here illegally?" Soda grinned at her. "Well, hey, just following in your footsteps, you know?"
"Aren't you happy? Go fish, by the way," Steve told Soda.
"Thrilled," Eleanor replied through gritted teeth. So she was a criminal too. She wasn't sure she could take being a doufus much longer without going stark raving mad.
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, trying to move her legs out from underneath Sodapop. The bathroom was beginning to look appealing again. She shuddered involuntarily; she hadn't enjoyed her toilet experience and wasn't looking to repeat it. But sooner or later…
Eleanor watched silently as Soda won yet another round. But when Steve began to deal again (saying loudly that he'd win for sure THIS time) she lost it.
"No! Not again! Look this is stupid. You're here bothering me just because you lost some bet-"
"An important bet!" Steve protested.
"Oh for…boys are so dumb…" she trailed off, catching the looks the pair gave her. "Uh you…YOU boys are so dumb."
"Ye-ah," Steve said slowly, giving her a weird look.
"You know, you're a boy too. You're still 17," Soda added, his own weird look pasted on his face.
Eleanor sighed. She couldn't have just been 16. Only one little year difference, but it annoyed her all the same.
'Gotta memorise a new birthday,' she thought tiredly. "Fuck," she said out loud, then winced at the sound, and promised not to say that intentionally ever again.
"Yeah, fuck is right…I'm just as old as you are now," Soda teased. "Had my birthday while you were, uh…"
"Dead?" Eleanor supplied eagerly, watching with delight as both boys squirmed.
An awkward silence followed; she'd effectively killed the mood. But on the other hand, the two were actually quiet.
Then Steve cleared his throat. "Um. My birthday's coming up soon," he said, "so…I'll be a year older than both of you."
"Aww shut up," Soda returned playfully.
"When's my birthday?" Eleanor spoke up.
Steve and Soda exchanged yet another glance. It felt weird, telling their friend things he should have had ingrained in his memory.
"Your birthday was in…January. I think," Steve said slowly.
"The 24th," Soda added.
"Yeah, and I guess…1951," Steve chirped.
"Don't know what day-"
"1951!" Eleanor screeched. "You have got to be kidding me…I'm 17!"
Steve laughed. "Yeah, strange isn't it? It's eighteen years after you were born, but you're only 17-"
"18 years," Eleanor babbled, "it's…it's…"
"1969," Soda said grinning. "See Steve? He ain't too smart yet."
"You…you just shut up," Eleanor shook her head, gasping slightly. It seemed being male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal was not enough…she'd have to be male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal nearly 20 years before she would be born. Which meant none of her friends were alive, and her parents would be…
"What…about…my parents?" she managed. The word felt funny on her tongue, which scared her – if the person she was now didn't talk about his parents ever, that didn't say much for them.
"Never met them," Soda said quietly. "You don't really talk that much about them…remember?"
"No…no I don't remember," Eleanor snapped. "I don't remember any goddamn- mother-fucking…ah…don't remember any STUPID thing! And now – now I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN!" She was sure she'd cry. Eleanor had never placed any importance on crying; it was just something you did when you were sad, to clean your system. But obviously, boys in the 60s didn't like to cry, and, also obviously, the other two were quite freaked out by her actions.
"Listen," Steve said, backing away slowly, "maybe we should go…let you get some sleep."
"Are you okay?" Soda asked. He looked completely shocked. "You're not…not really yourself. You don't need help? I mean, the bathroom's right there." He tried to laugh, but he looked worried.
"I don't want to go to the bathroom," Eleanor replied glumly. Her eyes stung, but they were completely dry; she wanted to cry, wanted to purge herself of the misery, but the body was not co-operating.
"O-k," Steve said slowly, "well, that's your business…we should go."
"Yeah, I'm not sure I trust Tim with Ponyboy so long. You sure you're okay?"
'No,' Eleanor thought furiously, 'I am not 'okay'! I'm not anywhere near 'okay'!' She opened her mouth, but Steve beat her too it.
"He'll be fine. He's Dallas Winston. Soda?" Steve opened his eyes wide and motioned to the door. Soda nodded, and, casting one last look in Eleanor's direction, followed Steve.
Dallas Winston. Eleanor groaned softly. She could learn to hate that name. She was in over her head for sure. Her mind was a whirling mass of confusion, and on top of it all, she wasn't sure she could even get to the bathroom by herself.
Eleanor tried to push herself off the bed – then gasped as pain shot through her. It felt like she'd been impaled on a bed of nails, spots of white-hot pain scattered over her body. She jerked up the thin fabric that barely clothed her, but her flat chest was covered in bandage. Slowly, she sank back against the pillow, cursing herself for not having spoken up when Soda asked if she needed help.
"Stupid boys," she muttered, jabbing her thumb at the nurse-call button, "always there to annoy you, but when you really need their help, they're nowhere in sight. Hate them. HATE BOYS!" she shouted, then winced again as pain shot through her chest. Her throat quivered, but no tears fell. Frustrated beyond belief, Eleanor buried her face in the pillow, hoping the nurse came quickly before she wet herself.
A/N: That sucked. Where's Two-Bit? (These notes help me somehow.)
A/N: Hello all! Thank you much for the reviews! By the way, Sugarmonkey...Eleanor, ruin Dally's rep? Oh, she will DESTROY it. Crush it, grind it into tiny pieces and blast it into oblivion (yeah, I'm a Star Wars fanatic. Horror of horrors). Mwahaha…ok sorry, it's my birthday and I'm hyper. But, I kinda think she will ruin it.
P.S. I got writer's block. This chapter moves really slowly and somewhat uselessly. It'll go somewhere later.
P.P.S. I'm swearing again. Too hard not to.
~
Steve licked his lips, eyes flicking madly back and forth between his own hands and Soda's eyes. His best friend's face remained impassive, his eyes stony and unforgiving. There was no way Soda would back down. He stood firm, a tiny smile crossing his lips as Steve finally spoke:
"Ya got any aces?"
From where she lay, immobilised by the weight on her legs, Eleanor let out a loud groan. She'd given up being self-conscious within around them after the first hour. The two boys looked up.
"You aren't going to win," she said frankly, rolling her eyes at Steve. "He's beaten you the last 5 games. Give it up man! You suck at cards."
Steve shoved off her legs and scowled. "I don't suck. HE sucks. And anyway, it's a matter of life and death here. You don't know what he could make me do. This morning-"
"Yeah, yeah you told me. About a million times and you've only been here for 2 hours. ILLEGITIMATE hours, by the way," she added, "seeing as visitors aren't allowed-"
"Illegitimate?"
"Wow, when did you grow a brain?"
Eleanor sighed. The two had teased her whenever she said anything remotely intelligent until she'd lapsed into silence, helplessly watching them deal another round. She was beginning to be very frustrated with the person she was living in. For starters, he was a smoker (her body told her as much) and apparently did drugs and drunk girls, if Tim was trustworthy enough (though, she wasn't sure if he was). Not to mention he didn't know diddlysquat.
"Illegitimate means it's ILLEGAL," she said crossly, and Steve laughed.
"So we're here illegally?" Soda grinned at her. "Well, hey, just following in your footsteps, you know?"
"Aren't you happy? Go fish, by the way," Steve told Soda.
"Thrilled," Eleanor replied through gritted teeth. So she was a criminal too. She wasn't sure she could take being a doufus much longer without going stark raving mad.
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, trying to move her legs out from underneath Sodapop. The bathroom was beginning to look appealing again. She shuddered involuntarily; she hadn't enjoyed her toilet experience and wasn't looking to repeat it. But sooner or later…
Eleanor watched silently as Soda won yet another round. But when Steve began to deal again (saying loudly that he'd win for sure THIS time) she lost it.
"No! Not again! Look this is stupid. You're here bothering me just because you lost some bet-"
"An important bet!" Steve protested.
"Oh for…boys are so dumb…" she trailed off, catching the looks the pair gave her. "Uh you…YOU boys are so dumb."
"Ye-ah," Steve said slowly, giving her a weird look.
"You know, you're a boy too. You're still 17," Soda added, his own weird look pasted on his face.
Eleanor sighed. She couldn't have just been 16. Only one little year difference, but it annoyed her all the same.
'Gotta memorise a new birthday,' she thought tiredly. "Fuck," she said out loud, then winced at the sound, and promised not to say that intentionally ever again.
"Yeah, fuck is right…I'm just as old as you are now," Soda teased. "Had my birthday while you were, uh…"
"Dead?" Eleanor supplied eagerly, watching with delight as both boys squirmed.
An awkward silence followed; she'd effectively killed the mood. But on the other hand, the two were actually quiet.
Then Steve cleared his throat. "Um. My birthday's coming up soon," he said, "so…I'll be a year older than both of you."
"Aww shut up," Soda returned playfully.
"When's my birthday?" Eleanor spoke up.
Steve and Soda exchanged yet another glance. It felt weird, telling their friend things he should have had ingrained in his memory.
"Your birthday was in…January. I think," Steve said slowly.
"The 24th," Soda added.
"Yeah, and I guess…1951," Steve chirped.
"Don't know what day-"
"1951!" Eleanor screeched. "You have got to be kidding me…I'm 17!"
Steve laughed. "Yeah, strange isn't it? It's eighteen years after you were born, but you're only 17-"
"18 years," Eleanor babbled, "it's…it's…"
"1969," Soda said grinning. "See Steve? He ain't too smart yet."
"You…you just shut up," Eleanor shook her head, gasping slightly. It seemed being male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal was not enough…she'd have to be male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal nearly 20 years before she would be born. Which meant none of her friends were alive, and her parents would be…
"What…about…my parents?" she managed. The word felt funny on her tongue, which scared her – if the person she was now didn't talk about his parents ever, that didn't say much for them.
"Never met them," Soda said quietly. "You don't really talk that much about them…remember?"
"No…no I don't remember," Eleanor snapped. "I don't remember any goddamn- mother-fucking…ah…don't remember any STUPID thing! And now – now I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN!" She was sure she'd cry. Eleanor had never placed any importance on crying; it was just something you did when you were sad, to clean your system. But obviously, boys in the 60s didn't like to cry, and, also obviously, the other two were quite freaked out by her actions.
"Listen," Steve said, backing away slowly, "maybe we should go…let you get some sleep."
"Are you okay?" Soda asked. He looked completely shocked. "You're not…not really yourself. You don't need help? I mean, the bathroom's right there." He tried to laugh, but he looked worried.
"I don't want to go to the bathroom," Eleanor replied glumly. Her eyes stung, but they were completely dry; she wanted to cry, wanted to purge herself of the misery, but the body was not co-operating.
"O-k," Steve said slowly, "well, that's your business…we should go."
"Yeah, I'm not sure I trust Tim with Ponyboy so long. You sure you're okay?"
'No,' Eleanor thought furiously, 'I am not 'okay'! I'm not anywhere near 'okay'!' She opened her mouth, but Steve beat her too it.
"He'll be fine. He's Dallas Winston. Soda?" Steve opened his eyes wide and motioned to the door. Soda nodded, and, casting one last look in Eleanor's direction, followed Steve.
Dallas Winston. Eleanor groaned softly. She could learn to hate that name. She was in over her head for sure. Her mind was a whirling mass of confusion, and on top of it all, she wasn't sure she could even get to the bathroom by herself.
Eleanor tried to push herself off the bed – then gasped as pain shot through her. It felt like she'd been impaled on a bed of nails, spots of white-hot pain scattered over her body. She jerked up the thin fabric that barely clothed her, but her flat chest was covered in bandage. Slowly, she sank back against the pillow, cursing herself for not having spoken up when Soda asked if she needed help.
"Stupid boys," she muttered, jabbing her thumb at the nurse-call button, "always there to annoy you, but when you really need their help, they're nowhere in sight. Hate them. HATE BOYS!" she shouted, then winced again as pain shot through her chest. Her throat quivered, but no tears fell. Frustrated beyond belief, Eleanor buried her face in the pillow, hoping the nurse came quickly before she wet herself.
A/N: That sucked. Where's Two-Bit? (These notes help me somehow.)