Chapter 10—Ain't that Right, Dal?

She stayed up the entire night thinking about what he'd said.  She didn't like it.

      Laine heaved a sigh and turned wearily on her side.  At the moment, she was uncomfortably curled up beside her cousin, having decided that rooming with Dally really wasn't the best thing to do.  Blinking a few times in the darkness, Laine let her eyes absently roll over Johnny's small frame. 

      She often forgot he was older than she was, and that, as such, he would try and protect her regardless of the situation.  Laine smiled bitterly at the thought.  That was another reason why she'd decided to avoid Dallas for a while.  She didn't want him to be at war with his protégé; and she most certainly didn't want Johnny harboring any bad feelings for the tow-head, either.  How considerate.

      A loud thud suddenly broke through the silence, distracting Laine from her thoughts and waking Johnny.  She was in the dark as to what could be happening, but Johnny seemed to know, as he let out an irritated growl.  "Johnny!"

      Laine locked eyes with her cousin and immediately saw the fear beneath his annoyed expression.  It was her uncle, and if she knew anything, it was that he was dead drunk.  

      "C'mon," that was Johnny.  He made a quick gesture to his lips that signaled for her to remain quiet.

      "Johnny!!"

      "Glory, pop—hold on a minute!"

      Laine, for a minute, was surprised at her cousin's bold and exasperated tone towards his father.  She knew the man was an alcoholic, and knew rather well that he had a habit of beating Johnny to pieces whenever he had the chance, but she'd have never taken Johnny as having even a measure of attitude towards the man…

      "He won't make it in here for a while," he assured her, glancing back warily at the closed door.  Laine nodded, rubbing her bruised shoulder as she stifled a small yawn.  Johnny caught the movement and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

      "Climb out through the window."

      "The window?"

      Johnny nodded and grunted a little as he pushed the rackety sill upwards.  It was wide enough to allow them exit.  He motioned for her to go first.  Laine hesitated.  "Go on, I'll be fine."

      Offering her cousin a sincere grin, she jumped out the window and into the dark night, not once looking back—even as she heard the glass shatter…Not once did she look back.

   *    *    *  

      Dally shifted in bed.  Glory but was he having a hard time getting to sleep.  It couldn't have been later than two in the morning, either.  He growled and glared at the door to the far left side of his room, daring it to open so he'd be able to unleash his wrath on someone.  Anyone.  Granted he was hoping for that anyone to be Laine, but at that point, he wasn't being particular about it. 

      Turning over on his stomach, he mulled over the options open to him.  He could go out and to Buck's, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to the man's loud, tacky saloon music.  And the Dingo was closed.  He could go to Tim's, but he wasn't keen on running into Curly either.  He still harbored murderous feelings for the teen.  Dally sat up in bed and stretched uncomfortably. 

      An hour later, Dally found himself dressed in his sneakers, jeans, and worn leather jacket, walking towards Jay's.  The place was closed, but unlike the Dingo, fostered a nightlife worthy of making the worst of broads turn their heads in shame.  Only the crudest and hardest of hoods gathered there; and of course, that included him.

      Dally scanned the place swiftly, searching for Tim's tell-tale black locks.  He didn't find them, which was just as well, since he hadn't expected for the youth to be there anyway.  What he was surprised to see, however, was the thin form of Angela Shepard, pushing through the crowd to get to him. 

      "Hey, doll," he began with a nod, not letting his gaze linger on her too long, lest she go telling Tim some warped version of their encounter.

      She nodded and jerked her head to the area behind her, "Fight broke out.  Curly got his ass kicked by some Socie who was stupid enough to come here."

      Dally raised an incredulous eyebrow, "A Socie?" 

      Angela nodded.  "Somethin' like that—it wouldn't've been a problem 'cept he had a heater on 'im.  Almost blew Curly to New York,"—Angela paused a moment and smiled at her own rough joke, then eyed him warily when she remembered he was a New Yorker.

      "And?"

      "And?  Soda saved Curly's ass, is what."

      For a moment, Dallas was taken aback, and then, "What the fuck was Soda doin' here tonight?"

      It wasn't customary for the handsome Curtis brother to be anywhere that decidedly dangerous.  He was a greaser, yes, and that usually implied he was involved in some measure of risky business, but he had never—to Dally's knowledge—purposely gone to place known for its rough-and-tumble crowd.  Especially not without the gang.  "Was he alone?"

      Angela shook her head no and absently twirled a strand of dark black hair between her fingertips, "Was here with Sandy."

      Ah…  Dally nodded.  He'd have expected that.  "Then what?"

      The youngest of the Shepards heaved an exasperated sigh.  She wasn't one for patient explanations.  "Soc started flirtin' with Sandy and she ain't one to turn that down."

      Again, Dally was slightly surprised, though he didn't let it show.  He'd known Sandy well enough, and she had always seemed sincere  to him.  She hadn't seemed like Sylvia at all.  What Sandy had done that night—that was the sort of thing broads like Sylvia did.

      "An' you know Curly.  Got it in 'is head that a Socie stealin' a Greaser broad was enough for him to start somethin.'"

      "What about Sodapop?"

      "He wasn't there.  He'd been gettin' them somethin' to drink.  Sandy got all sexy all of a sudden.  As if Soda wasn't even alive.  When he came back, Curly was already hittin' the Soc.  Soda got in to separate…and then the guy pulls his heater out."

      Dally remained quiet.  The sudden revelation of Sodapop having been in danger was a little out of the ordinary.  There was no one on Greaser territory that didn't like Soda.  They all respected him well enough, and while he wasn't the rough type, no one messed with him.  He felt his regular smirk threatening to return at the thought of what greaser broads would do to Sally once they found out what she'd done to him.  Every broad—whether they dug him or not—admitted that Sodapop Curtis had a full package as far as looks were concerned.  Dally?  He was more attitude than anything else.

      "Y'know how this crowd is.  They all started rootin' for Sodapop—and a couple hopped in to help, but it ain't fair when a Socie pulls a gun on you." 

      Dally nodded.  No, it wasn't fair, though he couldn't say he'd never done that before.  "So they wrestle with it—and Soda gets clipped."

      Dallas raised an eyebrow.  Clipped?  Knowing the messes her brothers were often in, 'clipped' for Angela usually meant hit.  "Where?"

      Angela raised a ringed finger to her ear.  "Took 'im to the hospital."

      Dally was momentarily agitated with Angela's lack of foresight.  She could have said that to him right off instead of going through the whole story.  Still, he couldn't go brushing her off just yet.  He had to find out where Sodapop was.

      "He ain't at Vincent De Paul, is he?"  Angela gave a smooth shake of the head, the dark, curly locks reminiscent of both her brothers. 

      "No.  Darry was real worried 'bout him.  Took 'im to that Socie hospital—"

      The moment the words escaped Angela's mouth, Dally took off in a dead run.  Sodapop Curtis had, since his childhood years, always—for whatever injury—been treated at Vincent De Paul's.  If he wasn't there now…well, glory—that meant something else had happened. 

      "Real nice, Dally!" 

      He ignored Angela's dry remark and instead scanned the crowd hastily for anyone he knew.  Anyone.  His eye caught on a fringe of jet-black hair.  Cocking his head absently to the side, he wondered briefly how he could've missed it before.  Then, jogging down quickly, he wrapped a strong arm about a young man's neck and dragged him off toward the parking lot.  "Keys,"  was all he bothered sneering. 

      His actions, of course, were rewarded with a fair punch from the unyielding Greaser he had so unceremoniously pulled away.  Glaring, he wiped his lip with his forearm.  "Nice one, Tim."

      The other Greaser—who hadn't really seen his captor—smirked and leaned back cockily when he took note of who it had been.  "Good to see you, Dal."

      "Shut up, already."

      "Be glad too."

      Tim jerked his head toward Jay's.  "Heard what happened?"

      Dally gave a nod.  He hadn't expected Tim to be all that sympathetic about Soda.  He didn't know him.  He was ticked, no doubt, that a Socie had dared walk into their territory and shoot down a Greaser, and he was probably bothered at it having been Soda, but more likely than not, it was all the same to Tim.  "When'd you get here anyway?"

      Tim shrugged a little.  And then,  "Angela."

      Oh.  Ever since Tim had heard what had happened to Laine, he'd been all the more protective of his sister.  This of course, merited a good teasing later.  Right now, there were more important things to account for.  "Take me to that Socie hospital."

      Tim rolled his eyes.  Glory did Dally have a way with words.  Take meGive meBuy me.  Tim was starting to feel like Dallas' personal chauffer.  He did, however, give a conceding wave towards his T-Bird.  "Hop in."

(    *     *     *   )

      "Nothing to worry about, young man.  He should be perfectly fine in a few days.  You will, however, have a difficult time explaining the circumstances to that police officer over there."

      Darry spared the uniformed man to his right a weary glance.  If things went the way the doctor was suggesting they would, Soda would be out of the hospital in a week.  When that happened, however, he'd probably end up in court, debating whether Darry was a good enough guardian.  First it had been the entire issue with Pony, and now, Sodapop had been shot.  He doubted very much that the juvenile court would deem him a trustworthy and responsible parent.  Darry sighed and rubbed his temples.  He'd deal with that later.  Now, all he cared about was his kid brother. 

      "I do want him back here after two months—just to check him out.  A routine, around here, nothing serious."

      Darry felt himself numbly nod.  As much as he felt he had to listen to the doctor talk, his eyes drifted of their own accord, landing on the sleeping form of his youngest brother.  His gaze softened.  It was getting harder to keep them safe.  The lot of them, he added absently, taking in the sight of the rest of his gang nodding off here and there.  Steve and Johnny and Two-Bit…Darry's eyes narrowed slightly as he realized one was missing.  Dallas…

      That boy.  Darry heaved a sigh.  He was awful hard to keep track off.  The fact that he refused to be cared for didn't help things, either.  At least Laine was there to keep an eye on him.  Not much to go by, that was for sure, but at least Dally wouldn't be as suicidal with himself anymore. 

      Just as that particular thought coursed through his mind, the doors to the waiting room burst open, and a breathless looking Dallas pushed himself through.  Behind him, a more composed Tim entered, smirking slightly at his friend's uncharacteristic awkwardness.  Upon catching Darry's eye, both boys nodded, the latter with more respect than the former. 

      Dallas turned and gave a similar nod to the rest of the gang.  Johnny smiled back weakly and glanced around but said nothing.  Then, he approached Darry.  "How is he?"

      Darry sighed and shrugged.  "Doctor said he'll be fine.  Then we've got to deal with the fuzz about this whole thing."

      "The fuzz?"

      "About foster homes."

      Dally's eyes widened marginally.  He hesitated from formulating his next words.  "An' how's that gonna come out?"

      Darry shrugged again.  "Don't know."

      "It ain't really a problem, though," Tim inputted.  At Darry's murderous glare, he continued, "If things do get that bad….all you've got to do is get out of Tulsa.  They ain't as concerned 'bout us Greasers as to chase us over the country." 

      When Darry didn't seem convinced, Tim nudged Dally's ribs, "Right, Dal?  Ain't that what you—"

      Tim didn't have much time to finish his sentence, as Dally had swiped him a good one in the ribs.  When Tim's world stopped spinning, he caught Dallas' glare.  That was a secret, his eyes seemed to say. 

All this, the other Greasers watched curiously, not really all that aware of what was going on.  Only Darry had heard enough of the conversation to have an inkling of the situation, and even then, it was pretty far-fetched.

      "C'mon y'all,"  that was Johnny, "we ain't need to get kicked out again.  'Sides, Soda's in real bad shape.  It ain't time for this."

      Steve, in particular, shot Dally a meaningful glance.  Last time they'd been there—to bail out Two-Bit and his broken knuckles—Dallas had thought it'd be cool to jump on an unsuspecting Socie.  Needless to say, they'd been 'escorted' out of the hospital and threatened on what would happen should they dare to return. 

      Glaring right back at Steve, Dally flopped down beside Johnny and narrowed his eyes at the newly forming bruise that marred that youth's left cheek.  "Where'd you get that one, huh, Johnnycakes?"

      Across from them, Tim added, "A real shiner, kid."

      Self-consciously, Johnny shrugged, rubbing his cheek absently.  "Where's Laine?"

      Tim brought up his hands to show that he didn't know and glanced at Dallas.  Johnny too looked up at the tow-head sitting beside him.  Dally became a bit exasperated by the looks.  "Don't know.  Doll left this morning.  Ain't seen her since then."

      "She was at my house up 'til a few hours ago.  The old man came back and I ain't want her to get hurt."

      "She'd better not get in any trouble."

      Johnny glanced up curiously at Tim's comment.  "There'll be no one there to bail 'er out."

      "Shoot, if I know Laine like I do, she'll find it even if she ain't looking."

      Dally had no idea how right he was.

*gasp*…What could Dally be right about???

This must be the first cliffhanger I've ever written—and notice it isn't even that much of a cliffhanger.

Tell me what ya think!