1 We're Back Chapter 5
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back! Miss me? Anyway, I haven't kicked the stupid writer's block, but who cares, here's the next chapter. It may suck, but y'all know why now. Anyway, would just like to say (write?) that I have still been reading and reviewing and your stories are all so good! They are fantastically enjoyable to read! And so now I'm back, answering your creative storms with a chapter of my own, and though I may not word things as eloquently as I'd wish to, I beg of you…review! Tell me how I'm screwing up! And, um, enjoy, I suppose.
P.S. Really, I haven't A/Ned for so long, did you think I'd stop there? Really I have nothing more to say, except I can't seem to express how well you all are writing! There are so many amazing stories out there!!! SO…anyone still reading this, keep on writing!
~
"Where in the name of the Almighty have YOU been?"
Sodapop looked up, startled to hear his brother's angry voice. Darry was glaring at him, hands on hips, an expectant look on his face.
"Ponyboy and I have been waiting around for you for an hour! You'd better have a good excuse."
Ponyboy bit his lip and tried not to smile. For once, HE wasn't the one being yelled at. He quite liked it.
"I was visiting Dallas," Soda said slowly, looking somewhat bewildered.
Darry dropped his arms. "Oh." He grimaced for a minute, trying to decide whether to continue being pissed, or ask about his miracle friend. It didn't take long for him to give in to his curiosity.
"How is he?"
"Completely insane," Soda groaned. He wrenched open the door to the fridge, and pulled out a beer. "He got all crazy when me an Steve told him what year it was, and I think he's got something against bathrooms." He snapped of the cap of his beer, watching the cold condensation run down the bottle and onto his fingers. "He seems a little smarter though."
Darry snorted. "Yeah, we'll see. Next time tell me before you go running around town. And," he grabbed the bottle from Soda's hand, "gimme that! You ain't 21 yet little buddy." Shaking his head, Darry took a gulp of beer. "Get you into trouble, this stuff will."
Soda rolled his eyes, and opened the refrigerator again.
"You're one to talk about trouble," Ponyboy said quietly, walking back to the living room. He turned, and shot his brother a rare grin. "You're the one the fuzz hauled in today, not us," he added smugly.
Darry nearly spat out his beer. As it was, he turned a very dark, tomato- ish shade of red.
Soda laughed, and, his new beer in hand, he followed Pony to the living room, giving his younger brother a high five on the way. He liked seeing Ponyboy smiling, something the youngster had been doing more and more of late.
"That was completely Two-Bit's fault," Darry spluttered, opening his eyes wide and trying to look innocent. He failed.
Ponyboy smiled again. "Yeah, like Two-Bit could have dragged you all the way through the hospital. Cops told us the story," he added, noting Darry's surprised look. "If you really hadn't wanted to run, Two-Bit couldn't have moved you to save his life."
Soda grinned, and wiggled his eyebrows and Ponyboy. "Looks like we got a convict in the family Pony."
Darry smiled wanly, watching his brothers laugh. Drawing himself up, he tried to collect what was left of his dignity.
"Yeah, well this could affect us all you know," he said pointedly. "If social services doesn't like me, we won't be living together much longer."
Both he and Sodapop looked at Ponyboy. Since Soda's 17th birthday, Pony had been the only Curtis left who was in real danger of being put in a boy's home. Ponyboy groaned inwardly. He hated when his brothers got all overprotective. And he hated being pitied even more. He stopped smiling and gave them both a dark look.
"Hey, don't get mad," Soda said gently. "We just don't want 'em Social Security people taking you away."
He said it so simply, and it made so much sense, that Ponyboy almost felt guilty for being angry.
"Look," Darry said suddenly. "The lady's coming on Friday. So we have two days to get this house clean. If she likes our 'home place' we'll be fine." He jumped up and surveyed the living room. Dirty laundry was piled in one corner, there was a large red-ish stain on one wall from when Two-Bit had thrown a slice of pizza at Tim and missed, and there were empty plates scattered around, with the crumbly remains of chocolate cake growing stale on them.
"Shit."
"Don't sweat it Darrel," Soda said, lazily slurping beer. "We got two whole days."
Ponyboy took one look at the incredulous open-mouthed stare that Darry threw at Soda and he just couldn't help himself. The laughter started deep inside his belly, bubbling up his throat and exploding out of his mouth. REAL laughter, the hysterical, non-stopping kind that he hadn't laughed in a long time. Ponyboy felt himself tumble off his chair, clutching his gut, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. Some vague part of him was aware that Sodapop had joined in his laughing and had spilled his drink in the process, and now Darry was screaming at him in exaggerated frustration, his yells interrupted with staccato bursts of laughter, until he too collapsed in a heap. They lay there, the three of them, giggling for a long while, on the dirty carpet of their living room.
~
Two-Bit was whistling when he entered the hospital. Somehow (he wasn't sure how it happened, but he wasn't complaining) he'd gotten out of jail scott- frickin-free. Naturally, he was in a very good mood as he stepped up to the desk, and winked at the nurse working behind.
"Hello nurse." He grinned. "You wouldn't happen to have a Dallas Winston here would you?"
The nurse smiled blandly. "Name?"
"Two-Bit Matthews."
"Okay! Room…323. Go right in!" Again, the stupid perky smile made an appearance.
"Thanks."
The nurse watched through narrowed eyes, as the lanky greaser ambled off. She waited until he was out of earshot to pick up the white plastic telephone.
"Hello. Yes. Yes, he's here. Just went in. Right." She hung up quickly. Then she adjusted her hat, pasted on her fake smile, and went back, hard at work, filing her nails.
~
Two-Bit creaked open the door to room 323 and peered in. 'Dally', pale as snow and skinny as an anorexic model, was slumped back in the hospital bed, staring in devastation at the newspaper in front of him. He looked like an animated corpse. Shaking off the chills, Two-Bit pushed into the room.
"Hiya Dallas!" he chirped.
The younger boy stared back at him, liquid eyes urgent and filled with despair. With one skeletal hand, he beckoned for Two-Bit to come close. When he spoke it was in a whisper:
"I'm a Capricorn."
Two-Bit nodded solemnly, pretending he knew what the hell the guy was talking about.
Dallas shook his head looking mournful. "I wasn't always. I was a Virgo…" His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hey, who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Two-Bit stared at him, aghast. "Your friend? Two-Bit?"
"Oh yeah, the lunatic that revived me," Dallas yawned and sank back against the pillows, tossing the paper away. "I owe you one," he said flatly, sounding as if he didn't really mean it at all.
"No problem," Two-Bit said, grinning. That was more like it.
"So," blue eyes fixed on him, "how many were there?"
Two-Bit blinked. "What?"
"How many," he paused and gave Two-Bit a pointed stare, "were there?" When this got no response, he continued looking slightly pissed. "People? Like me? Dead, than alive?"
"Oh!" Two-Bit said, nodding, understanding at last. "I have no idea."
"Thanks. There's one minute of my life I'll never have back," Dallas muttered.
"Hey, is that any way to treat your saviour?" Two-Bit asked indignantly.
"No, my lord," the boy replied sulkily.
"That's better." Two-Bit glanced around the room, searching for something to talk about. "So, you're alive huh?"
"Thanks to you, Mr. Matthews." Two-Bit looked up, startled, hearing the cultured, accented voice that called him 'Mr'. Dallas was looking past him, his eyes wide with surprise. Two-Bit whipped around, and found himself staring at an elderly man in a blue business suit and white moustache (very carefully trimmed).
"Who the-"
The man gave them a gracious smile. "I am Mr. Vanviera," he declared dramatically.
Two-Bit raised his eyebrows, and Dallas gave him a blank look.
The man sighed. "I am the sponsor of your project." He nodded disdainfully at Dallas.
Again, nothing.
"Without me, you wouldn't be alive!" he shouted.
"Without Two-Bit I wouldn't be alive."
"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but I was the one who brought the project all about!" The man was looking very heated. He reached inside his blue jacket and drew out a white lacy handkerchief (at this point Two-Bit was trying very hard not to snort) and mopped his face, which had become quite red.
"Listen, Mr. V," the tow-headed teen said once the man's handkerchief was out of sight again, "you wouldn't know how many people have been brought back would you?"
The man stiffened, looking slightly perturbed. "Why, there have been none," he said irritably.
"My nurse said there were." The boy frowned, his eyes accusing.
"She was mistaken," Mr. Vanviera said through gritted teeth. "I'll have her dismissed."
"I didn't mean-"
"DISMISSED, I tell you!" the man roared. Both boys were silent, their eyes fixed on the raging man in front of them.
"Someone needs anger management classes," Two-Bit muttered, and Dallas snickered.
"Alright," Mr. Vanviera continued when he'd calmed down, "alright, the reason I am here, in your midst," here he spread his arms wide, encompassing the two in his grand gesture, "is because my colleagues and myself have taken a great interest in both of you. But especially in you, Mr. Matthews." He smiled, somewhat evilly. "We would like to speak with you in private."
"Okay." The boy hopped up, and was at the man's side in an instant, a curious grin on his face. "Let's go!"
"Alright," said Mr. Vanviera, somewhat shaken by his enthusiasm. 'Stupid, naïve boy,' he though disgustedly. "Let's be off then."
"See ya later Dally," the young Matthews yelped, then eagerly followed the suit out the door.
~
Eleanor sighed softly, watching the boy leave. She hadn't known him by name maybe, but she'd remember that dumb ass ear-to-ear grin for the rest of her life. Carefully reaching over the bedside, she felt around for her discarded paper. Her hand touched a dusty round object; pulling it into the light, she saw that it was a baseball.
"Strange," she murmured before diving back beneath the bed. She retrieved her newspaper, and, ignoring the horoscopes, peered down at the crossword puzzle. She got to number five horizontal "____ Williams" four letters, before she got fed up, and turned to polishing the ball.
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back! Miss me? Anyway, I haven't kicked the stupid writer's block, but who cares, here's the next chapter. It may suck, but y'all know why now. Anyway, would just like to say (write?) that I have still been reading and reviewing and your stories are all so good! They are fantastically enjoyable to read! And so now I'm back, answering your creative storms with a chapter of my own, and though I may not word things as eloquently as I'd wish to, I beg of you…review! Tell me how I'm screwing up! And, um, enjoy, I suppose.
P.S. Really, I haven't A/Ned for so long, did you think I'd stop there? Really I have nothing more to say, except I can't seem to express how well you all are writing! There are so many amazing stories out there!!! SO…anyone still reading this, keep on writing!
~
"Where in the name of the Almighty have YOU been?"
Sodapop looked up, startled to hear his brother's angry voice. Darry was glaring at him, hands on hips, an expectant look on his face.
"Ponyboy and I have been waiting around for you for an hour! You'd better have a good excuse."
Ponyboy bit his lip and tried not to smile. For once, HE wasn't the one being yelled at. He quite liked it.
"I was visiting Dallas," Soda said slowly, looking somewhat bewildered.
Darry dropped his arms. "Oh." He grimaced for a minute, trying to decide whether to continue being pissed, or ask about his miracle friend. It didn't take long for him to give in to his curiosity.
"How is he?"
"Completely insane," Soda groaned. He wrenched open the door to the fridge, and pulled out a beer. "He got all crazy when me an Steve told him what year it was, and I think he's got something against bathrooms." He snapped of the cap of his beer, watching the cold condensation run down the bottle and onto his fingers. "He seems a little smarter though."
Darry snorted. "Yeah, we'll see. Next time tell me before you go running around town. And," he grabbed the bottle from Soda's hand, "gimme that! You ain't 21 yet little buddy." Shaking his head, Darry took a gulp of beer. "Get you into trouble, this stuff will."
Soda rolled his eyes, and opened the refrigerator again.
"You're one to talk about trouble," Ponyboy said quietly, walking back to the living room. He turned, and shot his brother a rare grin. "You're the one the fuzz hauled in today, not us," he added smugly.
Darry nearly spat out his beer. As it was, he turned a very dark, tomato- ish shade of red.
Soda laughed, and, his new beer in hand, he followed Pony to the living room, giving his younger brother a high five on the way. He liked seeing Ponyboy smiling, something the youngster had been doing more and more of late.
"That was completely Two-Bit's fault," Darry spluttered, opening his eyes wide and trying to look innocent. He failed.
Ponyboy smiled again. "Yeah, like Two-Bit could have dragged you all the way through the hospital. Cops told us the story," he added, noting Darry's surprised look. "If you really hadn't wanted to run, Two-Bit couldn't have moved you to save his life."
Soda grinned, and wiggled his eyebrows and Ponyboy. "Looks like we got a convict in the family Pony."
Darry smiled wanly, watching his brothers laugh. Drawing himself up, he tried to collect what was left of his dignity.
"Yeah, well this could affect us all you know," he said pointedly. "If social services doesn't like me, we won't be living together much longer."
Both he and Sodapop looked at Ponyboy. Since Soda's 17th birthday, Pony had been the only Curtis left who was in real danger of being put in a boy's home. Ponyboy groaned inwardly. He hated when his brothers got all overprotective. And he hated being pitied even more. He stopped smiling and gave them both a dark look.
"Hey, don't get mad," Soda said gently. "We just don't want 'em Social Security people taking you away."
He said it so simply, and it made so much sense, that Ponyboy almost felt guilty for being angry.
"Look," Darry said suddenly. "The lady's coming on Friday. So we have two days to get this house clean. If she likes our 'home place' we'll be fine." He jumped up and surveyed the living room. Dirty laundry was piled in one corner, there was a large red-ish stain on one wall from when Two-Bit had thrown a slice of pizza at Tim and missed, and there were empty plates scattered around, with the crumbly remains of chocolate cake growing stale on them.
"Shit."
"Don't sweat it Darrel," Soda said, lazily slurping beer. "We got two whole days."
Ponyboy took one look at the incredulous open-mouthed stare that Darry threw at Soda and he just couldn't help himself. The laughter started deep inside his belly, bubbling up his throat and exploding out of his mouth. REAL laughter, the hysterical, non-stopping kind that he hadn't laughed in a long time. Ponyboy felt himself tumble off his chair, clutching his gut, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. Some vague part of him was aware that Sodapop had joined in his laughing and had spilled his drink in the process, and now Darry was screaming at him in exaggerated frustration, his yells interrupted with staccato bursts of laughter, until he too collapsed in a heap. They lay there, the three of them, giggling for a long while, on the dirty carpet of their living room.
~
Two-Bit was whistling when he entered the hospital. Somehow (he wasn't sure how it happened, but he wasn't complaining) he'd gotten out of jail scott- frickin-free. Naturally, he was in a very good mood as he stepped up to the desk, and winked at the nurse working behind.
"Hello nurse." He grinned. "You wouldn't happen to have a Dallas Winston here would you?"
The nurse smiled blandly. "Name?"
"Two-Bit Matthews."
"Okay! Room…323. Go right in!" Again, the stupid perky smile made an appearance.
"Thanks."
The nurse watched through narrowed eyes, as the lanky greaser ambled off. She waited until he was out of earshot to pick up the white plastic telephone.
"Hello. Yes. Yes, he's here. Just went in. Right." She hung up quickly. Then she adjusted her hat, pasted on her fake smile, and went back, hard at work, filing her nails.
~
Two-Bit creaked open the door to room 323 and peered in. 'Dally', pale as snow and skinny as an anorexic model, was slumped back in the hospital bed, staring in devastation at the newspaper in front of him. He looked like an animated corpse. Shaking off the chills, Two-Bit pushed into the room.
"Hiya Dallas!" he chirped.
The younger boy stared back at him, liquid eyes urgent and filled with despair. With one skeletal hand, he beckoned for Two-Bit to come close. When he spoke it was in a whisper:
"I'm a Capricorn."
Two-Bit nodded solemnly, pretending he knew what the hell the guy was talking about.
Dallas shook his head looking mournful. "I wasn't always. I was a Virgo…" His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hey, who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Two-Bit stared at him, aghast. "Your friend? Two-Bit?"
"Oh yeah, the lunatic that revived me," Dallas yawned and sank back against the pillows, tossing the paper away. "I owe you one," he said flatly, sounding as if he didn't really mean it at all.
"No problem," Two-Bit said, grinning. That was more like it.
"So," blue eyes fixed on him, "how many were there?"
Two-Bit blinked. "What?"
"How many," he paused and gave Two-Bit a pointed stare, "were there?" When this got no response, he continued looking slightly pissed. "People? Like me? Dead, than alive?"
"Oh!" Two-Bit said, nodding, understanding at last. "I have no idea."
"Thanks. There's one minute of my life I'll never have back," Dallas muttered.
"Hey, is that any way to treat your saviour?" Two-Bit asked indignantly.
"No, my lord," the boy replied sulkily.
"That's better." Two-Bit glanced around the room, searching for something to talk about. "So, you're alive huh?"
"Thanks to you, Mr. Matthews." Two-Bit looked up, startled, hearing the cultured, accented voice that called him 'Mr'. Dallas was looking past him, his eyes wide with surprise. Two-Bit whipped around, and found himself staring at an elderly man in a blue business suit and white moustache (very carefully trimmed).
"Who the-"
The man gave them a gracious smile. "I am Mr. Vanviera," he declared dramatically.
Two-Bit raised his eyebrows, and Dallas gave him a blank look.
The man sighed. "I am the sponsor of your project." He nodded disdainfully at Dallas.
Again, nothing.
"Without me, you wouldn't be alive!" he shouted.
"Without Two-Bit I wouldn't be alive."
"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but I was the one who brought the project all about!" The man was looking very heated. He reached inside his blue jacket and drew out a white lacy handkerchief (at this point Two-Bit was trying very hard not to snort) and mopped his face, which had become quite red.
"Listen, Mr. V," the tow-headed teen said once the man's handkerchief was out of sight again, "you wouldn't know how many people have been brought back would you?"
The man stiffened, looking slightly perturbed. "Why, there have been none," he said irritably.
"My nurse said there were." The boy frowned, his eyes accusing.
"She was mistaken," Mr. Vanviera said through gritted teeth. "I'll have her dismissed."
"I didn't mean-"
"DISMISSED, I tell you!" the man roared. Both boys were silent, their eyes fixed on the raging man in front of them.
"Someone needs anger management classes," Two-Bit muttered, and Dallas snickered.
"Alright," Mr. Vanviera continued when he'd calmed down, "alright, the reason I am here, in your midst," here he spread his arms wide, encompassing the two in his grand gesture, "is because my colleagues and myself have taken a great interest in both of you. But especially in you, Mr. Matthews." He smiled, somewhat evilly. "We would like to speak with you in private."
"Okay." The boy hopped up, and was at the man's side in an instant, a curious grin on his face. "Let's go!"
"Alright," said Mr. Vanviera, somewhat shaken by his enthusiasm. 'Stupid, naïve boy,' he though disgustedly. "Let's be off then."
"See ya later Dally," the young Matthews yelped, then eagerly followed the suit out the door.
~
Eleanor sighed softly, watching the boy leave. She hadn't known him by name maybe, but she'd remember that dumb ass ear-to-ear grin for the rest of her life. Carefully reaching over the bedside, she felt around for her discarded paper. Her hand touched a dusty round object; pulling it into the light, she saw that it was a baseball.
"Strange," she murmured before diving back beneath the bed. She retrieved her newspaper, and, ignoring the horoscopes, peered down at the crossword puzzle. She got to number five horizontal "____ Williams" four letters, before she got fed up, and turned to polishing the ball.