AUTHOR'S NOTE: Woohoo! Chapter Ten! I haven't had too much time to write
that much lately.stupid homework and being sick. Grrr. Anyway, thank
you's need to be handed out like lollipops.would you like cherry,
raspberry, grape, chocolate or orange? Hmmm? Sorry, I've had a long day.
OK, wow, thanks for the reviews though! SodasGurl, so you think you know?
Hehehe; thank you for reviewing! I loved your "Weirdness" story though
(just needed to get some subliminal marketing in there)! Karlei Shaynner,
glad you enjoy reviewing it, I enjoy writing it. See? Perfect
relationship. Twobitsgreaserbabi, wow, thanks, I've been reading a little
bit of some of your other stories ("Three's a Crowd", is that one of them?)
and they're pretty interesting so far, just curious though, is your real
name Rockelle? If it is, that's the coolest name. And if it isn't, that's
still a cool name. And Bega, wow, thanks for the review and idea. I may
use it later *hint hint*. And yes, I know you shouldn't leave a two year
old kid with someone who's just been jumped, but Kat's supposed to show up
later but since this is a POV story it's hard to.never mind. You get the
picture.
So, what's up with me lately (hehe, sorry, I've stated this before, it's
been a long day)? Well, school sucks and anyone who's telling you
differently is trying to sell you something. ;). I saw "Hardball" (with
Diane Lane.Cherry!) and then I saw a bit of one of the Karate Kid movies
and "Johnny" (Ralph Macchio I think?) was in it. Just finished "That was
Then, This is Now" (very good book, didn't have TOO much of a problem with
the ending) and will probably get around to "Rumblefish" after I've
finished "Fight Club" (wow, I'm actually reading these days!). I want
pretty gold stars on my papers. And a cookie. Yum. It's funny, lately
I've trying to have philosophically metaphorical conversations with the
fellow inmates-erm, "classmates" at my school. They either apply lip-gloss
or grunt. Hmmm. Must study this for future reference.
CHAPTER TEN
SODA
The drive home was long, longer then I had ever remembered the drive from Steve's to my house being. No one spoke, but a tempest of emotion was raging like angry ocean waves. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
I parked the car and the three of us hopped out. I didn't embrace Anya or help her out, I simply followed her and Steve inside. Darry and Two-Bit were already there. I had no idea where Kat was, but I knew she couldn't have been gone for too long, because Cloud was there, babbling and playing with one of Ponyboy's books. Darry was sitting in the armchair while Two- Bit was trying to teach Cloud some sort of hand game. Anya sat down in a thrift store chair in the corner. Steve headed for the 'fridge for a beer.
"Anya, baby," I said. I knelt down beside her and stroked her cheek. She turned away, and I saw her silently cry. I hate it when girls cry.
"Baby, don't cry." Anya didn't answer, just sat there, picking at a nail, "it's just I need to know where you've been working. And I know it's not 7- 11 because Kat just got a job at 7-11. Please, please, Anya, don't lie to me." She didn't say anything. Wasn't she listening to a word I was saying?
"Anya?" I noticed her body shook like a twig not strong enough to sustain nature's cruelty. Something was wrong. "Anya, please don't shut me out. What's wrong.I promise I won't be mad at you." Nothing. It was like talking to a wall. A kind, beautiful wall, but a wall nonetheless. This began to irritate me. I had practically poured my heart into Anya, and now she had nothing to say to me.
"Anya, tell me--"
"I GOT JUMPED, OKAY?!" The room settled for a moment or two. Tears were streaming down Anya's face. No one was quite sure what to do, to see if she was serious or just being overdramatic. Oh yes, she was being serious.
"What?!" all of us asked her in unison. It was like we were thinking with the same brain. I didn't want to believe what she had said, I wanted her to take the words she'd said back as one big, unfunny joke.
"Who?" I asked in disbelief.
"That Soc," sniffed Anya, crossing her arms and looking away from me. "I don't know his name, the one that hates Pony so much."
"Spike," muttered Darry. Something came over Steve's face. I wasn't quite sure what, but I saw the beer bottle he was carrying slip nimbly through his fingers and crash to the ground, shattering into thousands of shards.
"Yes," cried Anya. "I was walking home, and he was following me and I couldn't use my switch blade and he tried.he tried forcing himself on me. I couldn't take it; I was almost going to use the switchblade on him. The only way he didn't rape me was because I scratched him and then slashed him with the blade.
"I didn't know what to do!" sobbed Anya, as if to reaffirm to us that fact. "And then he just stumbled off. He was drunk, I can still smell the vodka." That was all she needed to say. I saw her look into my eyes and sob even more. I must have had some look, because if I looked how I felt I think I would've cried to. Someone had hurt my Anya, my sweet Anya. Someone had attacked her and abused her and left her crying. Someone was going to die.
Something snapped in Steve, and he grabbed his coat and pointed a warning finger at Anya, "You stay here. If any of you touch her, I swear to God I'll kill the bunch of ya." And then he stormed out of the house. The rest of us sat there in silence, even baby Cloud. It was like we need a moment of silence to honor Anya. I wanted to envelope her in my arms, shower her with kisses and tell her everything was going to be wonderful. But it wasn't. And lying wasn't going to help it.
"He's got a gun," murmured Anya. I looked up at her, to see if she was lying again. I don't think she'd ever lie again, "Steve. He's got a gun. He's gonna kill Spike."
"Let him die," spat Two-Bit. That was rare to hear something so serious from Two-Bit. Two-Bit was the comic relief in the gang, the one we called in to lighten our lives up. Never had he said something so damning, so lethal without rethinking it or making it into some big pun. I think in a way Anya may have represented to Two-Bit his little sister, who was growing up far too fast and was already wearing make-up in the seventh grade. Serious Darry shook his head. At least could he be counted on to keep up his role, his persona that we'd all come to lean upon.
"No, we gotta find Steve. If he kills Spike there'll be more trouble then he ever bargained for," Darry said. I don't think having Anya get jumped would exactly be something I bargained for.
"No one will know," I argued. As the words escaped my mouth, flowing and hitting the faded wooden floor, I know they will be reflected back at me from Darry. He will tell me to be a good boy and let the authorities handle this. We've all seen how wonderful they've handled it before.
Darry shook his head, "They will. And if they don't, they'll pin it on Steve anyway. We gotta stop him."
"I'll stay with Anya," I said.
Anya shook her head, "No, I'll be okay." How cute of her to pretend she could defend herself, when at any moment her yolk would crack and ooze out onto the floor. She would be putty on the floor, a sobbing mess with blonde hair and pretty legs, one who cared too much and now has been scarred for life.
"No, someone needs to stay with you," I insisted.
"I will," argued Darry. Leave it to Superman to be the super tuff, big brother archetype.
"I'm okay, honest," Anya insisted. "Go! Staying here isn't going to save Steve, and that's all I care about right now." She had a point. Besides, Kat would be coming home soon. Kat would save the day with her milk and cookies and warm smile and calm listening and pat Anya on the shoulder. So the three of us, Darry, Two-Bit and Soda, burst out of the door and off to save Steve like the big, bad heroes we were.
KAT
I was walking to the drugstore to buy medicine for Cloud. She had a mild cold, but poor Cloud had a frail immunity system and I wanted her to be as healthy as soon as possible. I had asked the boss for payment in advance, and he reluctantly gave it to me. I counted the money, and it was just barely enough to pay for the medicine.
I thought about the argument Darry and I had. He was right. I was right. We were both wrong. Did that make any sense? The truth was, I loved Darry. I was afraid to make it legal and shout it to the world. I was afraid of too much. I was afraid of flying.
Quickly and silently, I felt a blade held inches from my neck. I heard a voice whisper into my ear, "Hey, angel, what's happening."
"Leave me alone, Julio," I begged. "Please, just leave me alone..."
"No can do," Julio whispered. I could feel his breath on my skin. "I just need a little loan of cash."
"Are you sure the plan will work?" I saw out of the corner of my eye a scrawny blonde girl. I think she was Julio's latest girlfriend. I pitied her.
"Positive, if Katerina here gives us the cash to skiddaddle outta here," Julio whispered. His voice was dark like velvet, the type of voice you expected vampires to have. Julio was a vampire, from the way his skin stretched across his face and they way he came out and stalked the night, consuming its denizens. He sucked the blood from the women victims. He was Jack the Ripper reincarnated.
"This is for my daughter," I explained, like it would actually matter to him. "Please, Julio, just please let me buy medicine, she's sick."
"Give me the cash!" shouted Julio. That's all he wanted was cash. Give him a dollar and pat him on the head and send him off and everything would be okay. I'd still have enough money for what really mattered; Cloud.
"Julio, you didn't tell me we would have to force her to give us the money," the blonde girlfriend said. Julio cupped his free hand and slapped her straight across the face. That silenced her. I could almost feel the pain she was feeling as she laid curled up on the curb, clutching her cheek, sobbing softly. I could almost feel it because I knew what it was like to be slapped that hard, to plead and beg for your life and live on your knees. Julio didn't spread love; he spread hate, used his girlfriends like me and this blonde girl like receptacles for his violence. It was truly disgusting.
"Fuck, I don't have time for this," muttered Julio. He smacked me across the back of the head and snatched my purse. I fell to the cement, my bruised arms breaking my fall. I screamed and cried as I watched Julio grab his sobbing girlfriend by her ethereal thin arms and toss her in the seat of his car. He was taking the money I needed for my baby girl and using it for who the hell knew what! Regaining my senses, I jumped to my feet and ran to the car, kicking at the tires and yelling at Julio. He couldn't care less that his daughter was sick, just drove off and left me crying behind in a dust cloud. Like he always would.
PONY
My worn out sneakers hit the cement as I ran. I couldn't take it anymore. What had happened to my beautiful, perfect Sarah? The one I would spend the rest of my life just listening to her pearls of wisdom that she wore around her pretty little neck. She always had an answer. SHE ALWAYS HAD AN ANSWER!
I was in the West Side, the rich side, which being a greaser meant I was practically begging for a mugging. Nothing made sense, and everything around me felt blurry. Sarah. Mother. Ditched. Alone.
My senses were scattered. I panted as I pulled up to their perfect little house. Oddly enough, it didn't seem nearly as happy and perfect as the first few times I'd seen it. Gray curtains hung from the window, and the yard seemed darker. Nothing seemed as happy and cheerful as it had been.
I rang the doorbell and waited patiently until a large, petite Hungarian maid answered the door. Of all the strange looks I've gotten, this one was the funniest. She wasn't sure whether I was going to mug her or be a gentleman. I'm not sure which one she exactly wanted, but I said as politely as I could muster, "May I speak to Sarah?"
The maid looked me over, and then nodded, "Very well." She let me in and then called up the stairs. I must've looked pretty strange, a greaser standing on Italian carved marble in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
"Ponyboy?" I looked up to see Sarah standing at the top of the staircase. Fazing back, it was like we were at some grand ball in the Renaissance, where she'd curtsy and I'd bow and I'd sweep her up in my arms and lead her around the dance floor while all the other girls stood there, jealously glaring at her. And then her father, we'll pretend he's a squire, would then knight me or something and we'd live happily ever after.
Instead of a suit, I was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt and she was wearing a nightgown. She tied her bathrobe tightly and then hurried down the staircase and threw her arms around me. I stiffened my body, and I saw her break the embrace and gaze sadly into my eyes, "What's wrong?"
"Sarah," I asked, "was your mother's name Caroline?"
"Yes," she murmured. "Why?"
"Did she die from cancer?"
"Yes." she stated firmly. Her mouth gaped when she saw my expression. "Oh my God.you.you know? When.?"
"Twenty two minutes ago," I replied. "So what else have you lied to me about?"
"What, what do you mean? I don't understand." Her eyes searched mine, hoping to find something of the Ponyboy Curtis who had rescued her from being raped so long ago.
"Bullshit, Sarah," I told her. "You said your mother died of cancer, that's why you were in the cemetery."
"Oh, and if I told you why I was really there would you care?" Sarah snapped.
I yelled back, "Why? You'd probably be lying then! Sarah, I trusted you with some of my deepest thoughts! I told you about Dally, Johnny, I don't tell just about everyone that!"
"Pony, let me explain." Sarah began. "If you listened."
"I don't want to," I told her stiffly. I had had enough. Everyone lying, being hypocrites, all of it. Disgusted, I turned my back on her and began to leave her fucking, perfect little house. I heard her cry and shout and beg for me to listen to her. I couldn't. What had I been listening to earlier? Was that really Sarah, or was she just lying? I threw open the door and stormed out. It began to drizzle. Isn't it always perfect timing that whenever something bad happens, it has to drizzle so you have to storm back home listening to the damning squishes of raindrops in your sneakers?
"Pony, please!" Something made me turn back to look at her. Sarah was standing in nothing but her nightgown, not even caring that she was getting pounded by raindrops. Her hair was matted behind her, and I couldn't tell the raindrops from the teardrops.
"To think I ever loved you," I muttered loud enough for her to here. For the last time, I turned my back on her and ran.
CHAPTER TEN
SODA
The drive home was long, longer then I had ever remembered the drive from Steve's to my house being. No one spoke, but a tempest of emotion was raging like angry ocean waves. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
I parked the car and the three of us hopped out. I didn't embrace Anya or help her out, I simply followed her and Steve inside. Darry and Two-Bit were already there. I had no idea where Kat was, but I knew she couldn't have been gone for too long, because Cloud was there, babbling and playing with one of Ponyboy's books. Darry was sitting in the armchair while Two- Bit was trying to teach Cloud some sort of hand game. Anya sat down in a thrift store chair in the corner. Steve headed for the 'fridge for a beer.
"Anya, baby," I said. I knelt down beside her and stroked her cheek. She turned away, and I saw her silently cry. I hate it when girls cry.
"Baby, don't cry." Anya didn't answer, just sat there, picking at a nail, "it's just I need to know where you've been working. And I know it's not 7- 11 because Kat just got a job at 7-11. Please, please, Anya, don't lie to me." She didn't say anything. Wasn't she listening to a word I was saying?
"Anya?" I noticed her body shook like a twig not strong enough to sustain nature's cruelty. Something was wrong. "Anya, please don't shut me out. What's wrong.I promise I won't be mad at you." Nothing. It was like talking to a wall. A kind, beautiful wall, but a wall nonetheless. This began to irritate me. I had practically poured my heart into Anya, and now she had nothing to say to me.
"Anya, tell me--"
"I GOT JUMPED, OKAY?!" The room settled for a moment or two. Tears were streaming down Anya's face. No one was quite sure what to do, to see if she was serious or just being overdramatic. Oh yes, she was being serious.
"What?!" all of us asked her in unison. It was like we were thinking with the same brain. I didn't want to believe what she had said, I wanted her to take the words she'd said back as one big, unfunny joke.
"Who?" I asked in disbelief.
"That Soc," sniffed Anya, crossing her arms and looking away from me. "I don't know his name, the one that hates Pony so much."
"Spike," muttered Darry. Something came over Steve's face. I wasn't quite sure what, but I saw the beer bottle he was carrying slip nimbly through his fingers and crash to the ground, shattering into thousands of shards.
"Yes," cried Anya. "I was walking home, and he was following me and I couldn't use my switch blade and he tried.he tried forcing himself on me. I couldn't take it; I was almost going to use the switchblade on him. The only way he didn't rape me was because I scratched him and then slashed him with the blade.
"I didn't know what to do!" sobbed Anya, as if to reaffirm to us that fact. "And then he just stumbled off. He was drunk, I can still smell the vodka." That was all she needed to say. I saw her look into my eyes and sob even more. I must have had some look, because if I looked how I felt I think I would've cried to. Someone had hurt my Anya, my sweet Anya. Someone had attacked her and abused her and left her crying. Someone was going to die.
Something snapped in Steve, and he grabbed his coat and pointed a warning finger at Anya, "You stay here. If any of you touch her, I swear to God I'll kill the bunch of ya." And then he stormed out of the house. The rest of us sat there in silence, even baby Cloud. It was like we need a moment of silence to honor Anya. I wanted to envelope her in my arms, shower her with kisses and tell her everything was going to be wonderful. But it wasn't. And lying wasn't going to help it.
"He's got a gun," murmured Anya. I looked up at her, to see if she was lying again. I don't think she'd ever lie again, "Steve. He's got a gun. He's gonna kill Spike."
"Let him die," spat Two-Bit. That was rare to hear something so serious from Two-Bit. Two-Bit was the comic relief in the gang, the one we called in to lighten our lives up. Never had he said something so damning, so lethal without rethinking it or making it into some big pun. I think in a way Anya may have represented to Two-Bit his little sister, who was growing up far too fast and was already wearing make-up in the seventh grade. Serious Darry shook his head. At least could he be counted on to keep up his role, his persona that we'd all come to lean upon.
"No, we gotta find Steve. If he kills Spike there'll be more trouble then he ever bargained for," Darry said. I don't think having Anya get jumped would exactly be something I bargained for.
"No one will know," I argued. As the words escaped my mouth, flowing and hitting the faded wooden floor, I know they will be reflected back at me from Darry. He will tell me to be a good boy and let the authorities handle this. We've all seen how wonderful they've handled it before.
Darry shook his head, "They will. And if they don't, they'll pin it on Steve anyway. We gotta stop him."
"I'll stay with Anya," I said.
Anya shook her head, "No, I'll be okay." How cute of her to pretend she could defend herself, when at any moment her yolk would crack and ooze out onto the floor. She would be putty on the floor, a sobbing mess with blonde hair and pretty legs, one who cared too much and now has been scarred for life.
"No, someone needs to stay with you," I insisted.
"I will," argued Darry. Leave it to Superman to be the super tuff, big brother archetype.
"I'm okay, honest," Anya insisted. "Go! Staying here isn't going to save Steve, and that's all I care about right now." She had a point. Besides, Kat would be coming home soon. Kat would save the day with her milk and cookies and warm smile and calm listening and pat Anya on the shoulder. So the three of us, Darry, Two-Bit and Soda, burst out of the door and off to save Steve like the big, bad heroes we were.
KAT
I was walking to the drugstore to buy medicine for Cloud. She had a mild cold, but poor Cloud had a frail immunity system and I wanted her to be as healthy as soon as possible. I had asked the boss for payment in advance, and he reluctantly gave it to me. I counted the money, and it was just barely enough to pay for the medicine.
I thought about the argument Darry and I had. He was right. I was right. We were both wrong. Did that make any sense? The truth was, I loved Darry. I was afraid to make it legal and shout it to the world. I was afraid of too much. I was afraid of flying.
Quickly and silently, I felt a blade held inches from my neck. I heard a voice whisper into my ear, "Hey, angel, what's happening."
"Leave me alone, Julio," I begged. "Please, just leave me alone..."
"No can do," Julio whispered. I could feel his breath on my skin. "I just need a little loan of cash."
"Are you sure the plan will work?" I saw out of the corner of my eye a scrawny blonde girl. I think she was Julio's latest girlfriend. I pitied her.
"Positive, if Katerina here gives us the cash to skiddaddle outta here," Julio whispered. His voice was dark like velvet, the type of voice you expected vampires to have. Julio was a vampire, from the way his skin stretched across his face and they way he came out and stalked the night, consuming its denizens. He sucked the blood from the women victims. He was Jack the Ripper reincarnated.
"This is for my daughter," I explained, like it would actually matter to him. "Please, Julio, just please let me buy medicine, she's sick."
"Give me the cash!" shouted Julio. That's all he wanted was cash. Give him a dollar and pat him on the head and send him off and everything would be okay. I'd still have enough money for what really mattered; Cloud.
"Julio, you didn't tell me we would have to force her to give us the money," the blonde girlfriend said. Julio cupped his free hand and slapped her straight across the face. That silenced her. I could almost feel the pain she was feeling as she laid curled up on the curb, clutching her cheek, sobbing softly. I could almost feel it because I knew what it was like to be slapped that hard, to plead and beg for your life and live on your knees. Julio didn't spread love; he spread hate, used his girlfriends like me and this blonde girl like receptacles for his violence. It was truly disgusting.
"Fuck, I don't have time for this," muttered Julio. He smacked me across the back of the head and snatched my purse. I fell to the cement, my bruised arms breaking my fall. I screamed and cried as I watched Julio grab his sobbing girlfriend by her ethereal thin arms and toss her in the seat of his car. He was taking the money I needed for my baby girl and using it for who the hell knew what! Regaining my senses, I jumped to my feet and ran to the car, kicking at the tires and yelling at Julio. He couldn't care less that his daughter was sick, just drove off and left me crying behind in a dust cloud. Like he always would.
PONY
My worn out sneakers hit the cement as I ran. I couldn't take it anymore. What had happened to my beautiful, perfect Sarah? The one I would spend the rest of my life just listening to her pearls of wisdom that she wore around her pretty little neck. She always had an answer. SHE ALWAYS HAD AN ANSWER!
I was in the West Side, the rich side, which being a greaser meant I was practically begging for a mugging. Nothing made sense, and everything around me felt blurry. Sarah. Mother. Ditched. Alone.
My senses were scattered. I panted as I pulled up to their perfect little house. Oddly enough, it didn't seem nearly as happy and perfect as the first few times I'd seen it. Gray curtains hung from the window, and the yard seemed darker. Nothing seemed as happy and cheerful as it had been.
I rang the doorbell and waited patiently until a large, petite Hungarian maid answered the door. Of all the strange looks I've gotten, this one was the funniest. She wasn't sure whether I was going to mug her or be a gentleman. I'm not sure which one she exactly wanted, but I said as politely as I could muster, "May I speak to Sarah?"
The maid looked me over, and then nodded, "Very well." She let me in and then called up the stairs. I must've looked pretty strange, a greaser standing on Italian carved marble in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
"Ponyboy?" I looked up to see Sarah standing at the top of the staircase. Fazing back, it was like we were at some grand ball in the Renaissance, where she'd curtsy and I'd bow and I'd sweep her up in my arms and lead her around the dance floor while all the other girls stood there, jealously glaring at her. And then her father, we'll pretend he's a squire, would then knight me or something and we'd live happily ever after.
Instead of a suit, I was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt and she was wearing a nightgown. She tied her bathrobe tightly and then hurried down the staircase and threw her arms around me. I stiffened my body, and I saw her break the embrace and gaze sadly into my eyes, "What's wrong?"
"Sarah," I asked, "was your mother's name Caroline?"
"Yes," she murmured. "Why?"
"Did she die from cancer?"
"Yes." she stated firmly. Her mouth gaped when she saw my expression. "Oh my God.you.you know? When.?"
"Twenty two minutes ago," I replied. "So what else have you lied to me about?"
"What, what do you mean? I don't understand." Her eyes searched mine, hoping to find something of the Ponyboy Curtis who had rescued her from being raped so long ago.
"Bullshit, Sarah," I told her. "You said your mother died of cancer, that's why you were in the cemetery."
"Oh, and if I told you why I was really there would you care?" Sarah snapped.
I yelled back, "Why? You'd probably be lying then! Sarah, I trusted you with some of my deepest thoughts! I told you about Dally, Johnny, I don't tell just about everyone that!"
"Pony, let me explain." Sarah began. "If you listened."
"I don't want to," I told her stiffly. I had had enough. Everyone lying, being hypocrites, all of it. Disgusted, I turned my back on her and began to leave her fucking, perfect little house. I heard her cry and shout and beg for me to listen to her. I couldn't. What had I been listening to earlier? Was that really Sarah, or was she just lying? I threw open the door and stormed out. It began to drizzle. Isn't it always perfect timing that whenever something bad happens, it has to drizzle so you have to storm back home listening to the damning squishes of raindrops in your sneakers?
"Pony, please!" Something made me turn back to look at her. Sarah was standing in nothing but her nightgown, not even caring that she was getting pounded by raindrops. Her hair was matted behind her, and I couldn't tell the raindrops from the teardrops.
"To think I ever loved you," I muttered loud enough for her to here. For the last time, I turned my back on her and ran.