The Only Thing Holding Him Back *~* Chapter Three

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took so long. I've been working on multiple fanfictions. I'd love for you to check them out! This chapter's a bit short and I'm sorry, but I thought it was the proper place to end it. By the way...This issue has not arisen yet but I foresee it coming up--That Darry's narration is too mature for the group. Well, as Ponyboy says in the real The Outsiders novel, Darry is extremely smart and could be a Soc if he wanted to. So with a good education comes good vocabulary. Anywho, here's Chapter Three. Enjoy!

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The gang headed down to Buck Merril's party, where we suspicioned Dally would still be. Sure enough, it was still going on, even at 12:10 in the afternoon. His parties are usually known to last quite a while.

"Go ahead and knock," Two-Bit said to Steve. Steve raised an eyebrow.
"I don't want to knock, you knock."
"You first."
"Oh, c'mon, boys, grow up," I insisted, pushing them both aside and rapping my knuckles on the wooden door. Soda peeked in the window to see if anybody was approaching.
"Here he comes," he observed, just as the door swung open. Buck Merril rubbed his eyes. I could smell the alcohol on him.
"Can we see Dally?" asked Two-Bit, trying to appear tough. We all assumed his same stance. None of us were too fond of Buck Merril and he was usually looking for trouble. But if the four of us looked intimidating, maybe he'd comply to our request.
"He's sleeping," said Buck in a slur. "Come back later."
"It's real important," persisted Sodapop urgently, slipping a hand onto the doorframe to keep Buck from slamming it in our faces. "Come on, let us see him."
Buck looked from Sodapop, to myself, to Steve and Two-Bit. At last he groaned in agitation and allowed our entrance.
"Thank you," said Soda sharply, always one to exercise his manners. We headed into the house.
"Up there," said Buck, pointing lazily behind him towards the stairs. The four of us followed his finger in the direction he had pointed.
"I think it's here," guessed Steve, gesturing to the only room that didn't have giggling echoing from inside. I nodded and led the way.
"Dall?" I asked, entering without even knocking. Dallas Winston laid on face-down on the bed, snoring softly. Two-Bit approached him and cleared his throat.
"Dally," he said loudly, kicking him lightly in the side. "Dally, wake up."
"What is it?" he muttered in annoyance, lifting his face slightly and rubbing away the sleep from his eyes.
"This," I declared, shoving the paper in his face. He recoiled a bit and snatched it from my hands to examine it. His eyebrows rose in an almost-convincing manner.
"Man," he murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Johnny and Ponyboy?"
"Don't play stupid," Soda pleaded. "Dallas, we're real worried 'bout them. Tell us where they are."
"I--I don't know," he said with a shrug. Two-Bit rolled his eyes.
"Man, I hope you have a better act planned for the fuzz."
"What you saying?" Dally demanded.
"You know they's gonna come ask you about it first," Steve agreed, turning a chair around backwards and taking a seat. "They's always suspecting you're involved."
"Well," Dally began modestly, unable to suppress a proud smirk. "Most of times, does involve me. Reckon this is sort of like the time that--"
"Dall," I began sternly. He stopped his sentence as caught glance of the rough gaze I was aiming at him. And then he exhaled, opening his mouth to begin a new sentence.
"Dallas Winston," Soda began with newfound bravado. The lot of us turned towards my little brother, focusing on the soaked sweatshirt he was holding in his hands. I recognized that shirt anywhere. It had once been mine, in fact, until I had grown out of it. Sodapop had a new look of determination on his face, mixed with disbelief and anger that Dally would lie to us. I took it from his hold to examine it for myself to make sure.
"This is Ponyboy's," I concluded at last.
"You're right," Two-Bit observed. "It is."
Dally's expression did not even falter. "Yeah? I found it in the park last night, it was mighty cold and--"
"We ain't puttin' up with no stalling today, Dally," Soda began desperately, rolling the newspaper in his hands to give himself something to do. Man, what I wouldn't give to wipe that horrified look off his face. Heck, what I wouldn't give to have Pony and Johnny home safe and sound, out of harm's way.
Dally looked as though he may opt for telling us the truth, then thought better of it. If there's one good quality Dally possesses, it's loyalty. He would protect a friend until his death if he had to.
"I ain't sayin' nothin'," he decided.
"Damnit, Dallas!" Soda cried, thrusting the newspaper onto the floor in anger. I had never seen Sodapop so mad before in my whole life. Though I think besides anger it was mostly fear. The feeling was mighty familiar to *me*. I'd been dealing with it since Mom and Dad died. The feeling that you're responsible for another life. A life that you treasure more than your own. Some call it a priority. Some call it a job. I call it love.
Not that I would ever admit to that.
All of a sudden, Buck burst into the room, slamming the door behind him. He looked rather flushed and I could still smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke.
"Dall, the fuzz is here," he declared at last. "They's wanting you to go down to the station for questioning. I tried an' stop 'em, but they ain't goin' no place until they talk to you."
"Let 'em take me," Dally said with a dismissing wave of his hand, reaching for his shirt. In a way it was sad, the way Dally was used to police taking him in for interrogations. We all knew he expected it. After all, he was right: most of the time, he was involved in whatever was going down in the county.
"We're coming with you," Steve announced, rising from his sitting position. It was odd, really, the way Steve was suddenly concerned for Ponyboy's wellfare. Though to those who knew him best, Steve Randall was always that way. He cared, but most of times just didn't show it.
Dally looked annoyed as he pulled the white t-shirt on over his head. "Don't be dense," he scoffed. "I don't need no backup."
"We want to hear what you tell them," Two-Bit agreed, catching on to Steve's comment.
Dally lowered his brow at us, as though we were dumber than we knew. "I plan on telling them what I know: nothin'."
"Stop lying!" Soda pleaded. "You don't even have your leather jacket. You gave it to them."
"Fine, I'll tell you what I know," Dally began resignedly as he paused at the open door, Buck Merril leading the way to the cops in waiting. He looked around as though to be sure nobody else was listening. Then he turned back to us and said in undertones, "They's headin' for Texas." And with that, Dallas Winston left, closing the door behind him. I turned over the moment in my mind. Something didn't add up. It just didn't make sense. The look on Dally's face indicated something other than honesty. The other guys, however, seemed relieved to have a bit of information, and too ecstatic to take a minute to think through its validity.
"Texas," Two-Bit muttered in concentration. "I have a cousin in Texas. I can ring him and check if he's heard anythin'."
I looked at Soda, who looked close to tears. I put a comforting hand on his back and began to lead him out of the room. "C'mon. Let's get home."
TO BE CONTINUED...