Daniel licked his lips and stared at the bars. The bail was high,
thousands and thousands of dollars. His mother could never raise it. He'd
talked to her on the phone and it had upset him to hear her so upset, like
she was trying to hide the helpless feeling and she offered help he didn't
think she could deliver.
And the helpless overwhelmed feelings crashed over him, useless wishes running through his mind like spineless creatures, 'if only we'd never moved here, if only...'
The arraignment was Monday. This was Friday night. They gave him a prison uniform since he'd be here for a while. He ran his fingernails down the rough material of the jumpsuit. He was lying on a metal cot that was bolted to the wall. It had an impossibly thin mattress and a rough gray blanket that you might use to cover horses. There were no windows, only the bars that looked out on the harshly lit hallway, and tiny cop offices beyond that, or guard offices. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't know who the hell's offices they were and he didn't care. Didn't care about anything now that they were probably going to kill him because they thought he killed someone.
John Lawence, Johnny, that's who they thought he killed. That blond asshole who kept beating him up, the King Karate guy, Ali's exboyfriend. He had a motive, he supposed. He hated that guy's fucking guts but he didn't kill him.
His head hurt, hurt. It was like an adrenaline hangover and he felt wrung out, disconnected in a way he'd never felt before. He closed his eyes.
Lucille sat on the couch, not crying. No time for tears now. She had to help her son.
But they were so alone here. There was no one she could turn to for help...then she paused like an animal sensing a natural disaster in the wind...maybe there was someone.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face with a cool washcloth, took a deep breath, tried to have faith. He didn't do it, he didn't do anything, it would be o.k. She looked at herself in the mirror, a stern looking middle aged woman, and she thought about how much Daniel looked like his father, a man he probably didn't remember ever seeing. She remembered meeting him 18 years ago, those dark eyes and black hair, how she had tried to act cool. And then when Daniel was a baby how violent he had become, fighting with her over stupid things and hitting her. And something shimmered in her mind. Daniel had always been so gentle, nothing like his father, but was it possible he could have killed that boy? No, no, she shook her head. It wasn't possible.
She went downstairs, hoping that the Japenese maintenance man was still here.
"Mr.Myagi?" she said, pushing on the screen door.
"Ay?" he said, "come in, come in," She did, marveling at how the room looked the same as it did earlier when she was here with Daniel.
"Um, Mr.Myagi? I, there's a problem..."
"Please," he said, pulling over a stool, "sit, sit," She did, and glanced around at the bonsai trees twisted into strange beautiful shapes, the tools and scrap materials hanging from the walls.
"Now tell me, what is problem?" She had his full attention, something she wasn't used to. People at work were always so full of their own little agendas that they only half listened to her.
"It's um, it's," and she couldn't say it. She looked at Mr.Myagi's kind patient face and she started crying. Just a little at first, just a welling of tears, a sheen in her eyes. But then her head was in her hands and the sobs were wracking her and she cried like a child. Mr.Myagi waited, he did not say, "stop" or "what's wrong?" or any other useless thing. For that she could have kissed him. Oh, Daniel. Her poor little Daniel.
"It's Daniel," she said when the storm had passed, and she sniffled and her breath came in little gasps from crying, "he was arrested,"
The high school, looking the same as it had before, but inside everyone was buzzing. The news of Johnny Lawrence's murder ran rampent.
Ali arrived at school blissfully unaware, but that would soon change. Everyone knew he was her exboyfriend. And everyone knew she liked Daniel LaRusso, though few people could see why.
She walked toward the school, the little half smile on her face. Lisa, her skinny friend with the long colorless hair, ran toward her.
"Ali! Did you hear!"
"Hear what?"
"Johnny was killed last night, and that new kid killed him," Lisa stared at her, taking the satisfaction of being the one to deliver bad news. Ali stood still, her brow furrowed.
"What?"
"Daniel killed him with a switchblade and he's in jail," She shook her head, the news didn't make sense. It didn't fit with what she felt inside of herself about Daniel. He couldn't kill anyone, he wouldn't, and Ali knew it.
She couldn't concentrate all day in school.
Ponyboy felt like shit, just overtired and worn out from hitch hiking all that way but he finally made it to the apartment where Dally's cousin lived. Apartment 10, apartment 10, he thought over and over, a record in a groove.
He knocked and a suspicious voice called out, "Who is it?"
"Ponyboy," he called back and he heard Dallas growl, "let him in,"
The apartment was small and cheap looking, like he imagined the projects in Chicago or in New York looked. Dally and Bill sat at the table, smoking and sipping beer. He glanced around for Johnny, didn't see him.
"Want a beer, kid?" Dallas said, not looking particularly glad to see him or relieved he made it here in one piece. But Ponyboy was used to that. He shook his head no at the offer of the beer.
"But, man, I could use a cigarette,"
He sat back on the couch and smoked, feeling the tingly feeling of the nicotine filling his brain.
"Hey, Dal, where's Johnny?"
"Johnny's not here. He got in some trouble," Ponyboy raised his eyebrows, not feeling quite worried yet.
"Trouble?" The cousin, Bill, looked generally worried and uncomfortable but it didn't seem to be related to whatever Johnny got himself into. Dallas didn't elaborate.
"C'mon, Dal, what happened? Where is he?" Dallas sighed and swung the door shut.
"Alright, I'll tell you. But you keep your mouth shut about it. He got jumped last night and he killed one of the guys who did it,"
"What? Glory, Dally, what? Is he in jail or somethin'?"
"No, he's hiding out,"
"Where? Is he o.k.?"
"He's fine, he's safe, don't worry about it,"
"I want to see him,"
"No,"
And the helpless overwhelmed feelings crashed over him, useless wishes running through his mind like spineless creatures, 'if only we'd never moved here, if only...'
The arraignment was Monday. This was Friday night. They gave him a prison uniform since he'd be here for a while. He ran his fingernails down the rough material of the jumpsuit. He was lying on a metal cot that was bolted to the wall. It had an impossibly thin mattress and a rough gray blanket that you might use to cover horses. There were no windows, only the bars that looked out on the harshly lit hallway, and tiny cop offices beyond that, or guard offices. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't know who the hell's offices they were and he didn't care. Didn't care about anything now that they were probably going to kill him because they thought he killed someone.
John Lawence, Johnny, that's who they thought he killed. That blond asshole who kept beating him up, the King Karate guy, Ali's exboyfriend. He had a motive, he supposed. He hated that guy's fucking guts but he didn't kill him.
His head hurt, hurt. It was like an adrenaline hangover and he felt wrung out, disconnected in a way he'd never felt before. He closed his eyes.
Lucille sat on the couch, not crying. No time for tears now. She had to help her son.
But they were so alone here. There was no one she could turn to for help...then she paused like an animal sensing a natural disaster in the wind...maybe there was someone.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face with a cool washcloth, took a deep breath, tried to have faith. He didn't do it, he didn't do anything, it would be o.k. She looked at herself in the mirror, a stern looking middle aged woman, and she thought about how much Daniel looked like his father, a man he probably didn't remember ever seeing. She remembered meeting him 18 years ago, those dark eyes and black hair, how she had tried to act cool. And then when Daniel was a baby how violent he had become, fighting with her over stupid things and hitting her. And something shimmered in her mind. Daniel had always been so gentle, nothing like his father, but was it possible he could have killed that boy? No, no, she shook her head. It wasn't possible.
She went downstairs, hoping that the Japenese maintenance man was still here.
"Mr.Myagi?" she said, pushing on the screen door.
"Ay?" he said, "come in, come in," She did, marveling at how the room looked the same as it did earlier when she was here with Daniel.
"Um, Mr.Myagi? I, there's a problem..."
"Please," he said, pulling over a stool, "sit, sit," She did, and glanced around at the bonsai trees twisted into strange beautiful shapes, the tools and scrap materials hanging from the walls.
"Now tell me, what is problem?" She had his full attention, something she wasn't used to. People at work were always so full of their own little agendas that they only half listened to her.
"It's um, it's," and she couldn't say it. She looked at Mr.Myagi's kind patient face and she started crying. Just a little at first, just a welling of tears, a sheen in her eyes. But then her head was in her hands and the sobs were wracking her and she cried like a child. Mr.Myagi waited, he did not say, "stop" or "what's wrong?" or any other useless thing. For that she could have kissed him. Oh, Daniel. Her poor little Daniel.
"It's Daniel," she said when the storm had passed, and she sniffled and her breath came in little gasps from crying, "he was arrested,"
The high school, looking the same as it had before, but inside everyone was buzzing. The news of Johnny Lawrence's murder ran rampent.
Ali arrived at school blissfully unaware, but that would soon change. Everyone knew he was her exboyfriend. And everyone knew she liked Daniel LaRusso, though few people could see why.
She walked toward the school, the little half smile on her face. Lisa, her skinny friend with the long colorless hair, ran toward her.
"Ali! Did you hear!"
"Hear what?"
"Johnny was killed last night, and that new kid killed him," Lisa stared at her, taking the satisfaction of being the one to deliver bad news. Ali stood still, her brow furrowed.
"What?"
"Daniel killed him with a switchblade and he's in jail," She shook her head, the news didn't make sense. It didn't fit with what she felt inside of herself about Daniel. He couldn't kill anyone, he wouldn't, and Ali knew it.
She couldn't concentrate all day in school.
Ponyboy felt like shit, just overtired and worn out from hitch hiking all that way but he finally made it to the apartment where Dally's cousin lived. Apartment 10, apartment 10, he thought over and over, a record in a groove.
He knocked and a suspicious voice called out, "Who is it?"
"Ponyboy," he called back and he heard Dallas growl, "let him in,"
The apartment was small and cheap looking, like he imagined the projects in Chicago or in New York looked. Dally and Bill sat at the table, smoking and sipping beer. He glanced around for Johnny, didn't see him.
"Want a beer, kid?" Dallas said, not looking particularly glad to see him or relieved he made it here in one piece. But Ponyboy was used to that. He shook his head no at the offer of the beer.
"But, man, I could use a cigarette,"
He sat back on the couch and smoked, feeling the tingly feeling of the nicotine filling his brain.
"Hey, Dal, where's Johnny?"
"Johnny's not here. He got in some trouble," Ponyboy raised his eyebrows, not feeling quite worried yet.
"Trouble?" The cousin, Bill, looked generally worried and uncomfortable but it didn't seem to be related to whatever Johnny got himself into. Dallas didn't elaborate.
"C'mon, Dal, what happened? Where is he?" Dallas sighed and swung the door shut.
"Alright, I'll tell you. But you keep your mouth shut about it. He got jumped last night and he killed one of the guys who did it,"
"What? Glory, Dally, what? Is he in jail or somethin'?"
"No, he's hiding out,"
"Where? Is he o.k.?"
"He's fine, he's safe, don't worry about it,"
"I want to see him,"
"No,"