Title: Learn To Fly

Summary: Johnny finds a letter in his attic addressed to his mother from his uncle. He sets off to find him and find out why his mother is the person she is today. (Takes place in the beginning of book.)

Prologue: The Letter

Johnny Cade sat in his attic amongst the boxes surrounding him. It was all junk, really, but he sifted through the things around him. His father had told him to clean the place by tonight or he'd get a whipping. It didn't make a difference whether he did or not—he'd probably get a whipping anyways.

Johnny pushed a large cardboard box out of the way when a shockingly pink book fell out of it. He picked it up, curious, and his eyes widened in disbelief when he read the childish "My Diary" on the cover. His mother's diary? Sure enough, it had her name on the inside, boldly written. Underneath was a note from someone. It was a bit faded, so Johnny had to squint to read it.

Hope you like the diary, Jenny!- Your loving brother, Johnny.

Johnny frowned. Mom had a brother? Who was he? He flipped through the pages and a envelope fell out. Mom wouldn't mind if he read it, right? He propped himself up against a box and got comfortable before he started reading.

Dear Jenny,


Sweetie, I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am. I'm not sure why I did it, but I want to explain it to you. Don't you ever think it was your fault.

I was walking home that night because the car had broken down again. The yells from our house could be heard from a mile away. I knew dad was drunk again before I even got near my house. Normally, I'd turn around and walk straight back to one of my buddy's houses, but when I heard your voice in there, I kept going forward. I wanted show the old man what I was made of. I didn't want that bastard to hurt you or mom ever again.

I plowed through the door just in time to see dad strike you, Jenny. He punched you in the stomach. Did you notice that dad never hit us in the face? Maybe he didn't feel as guilty. Who knows? All I remember is that I was so full of rage I was trembling. Mother was in the corner, saving her ass before she would even think of protecting her children, and you were on the floor clutching your stomach in pain. All I saw was red when I jumped him. I'm sorry, Jen. I wish I could take it all back. I'll be back as soon as possible. Here's my statement for the feds too.

Johnny flipped the page over in disbelief. This kid, Johnny... he was his uncle. Why didn't his mother ever mention him? She cursed her dead parents enough. But she never talked about a brother. He flipped on to next page to start reading his statement.

My name is John Anderson, but my friends call me Johnny. This is my statement for the feds.

I'm not a bad kid. I love my family and I would give my life for any one of them. My little sister, Jenny, is a sweet kid. There's a big age gap between us, though. I'm eighteen, she's eleven. She can't protect herself. I have to be there for her. Usually, I divert my dad's attention from her. He'll whip me, she'll cry, my mother'll whimper in her little corner. Sooner or later, his hand gets tired. I take it like a man. You get used to it after thirteen years.

That day, I don't know what happened. Something just snapped inside me. It was like I wasn't really me, you know? Like I was watching everything that was happening. I don't know why I didn't stop punching my old man. It was like I couldn't stop my fist. I just wanted him to leave us alone once and for all.

My father was a good man when he was sober. I still remember trips to the zoo, to the mall, to the ice cream shop. It was when he got his hands on liquor when there was a problem. My father was a mean drunk.

He was a smart man, though. People say I look like him. We both have chestnut brown hair and dark black eyes. In fact, all of us have black eyes. It's a hereditary thing.

That's where the similarities end. My dad's hair is kind of windblown, like he's never seen a comb. It's all over the place. I've got "superstar" hair. That's what the girls say, anyway. I couldn't care either way. His eyes are also a lot more distant, like he's not really there, you know. He's a college professor. I'm a basketball player. We're total opposites.

My sister looks like a miniature of my mom. She's got this long black hair and pale skin. She's really tiny too—looks like she's eight instead of eleven. She's got those big black eyes too. In fact, the only person without them is my mom. That's the only difference between the two's looks. My mother has these shockingly blue eyes.

I still don't know why my sister had gotten home early. She tried to pull me off him, but I ignored her. I wish I didn't now. I don't know when he died, which blow was the one that did it. I know I'll never forgive myself for it.

I took a man's life. I'll never be able to live with myself. Take me to jail, whatever you guys want, but please, someone take care of my sister.

She's my whole life.

-Johnny Anderson, September 18, 1954

Johnny stared at the letters in front of him in disbelief. Johnny described his mother as a cute little kid. He could never imagine her like that. They had no pictures of her childhood. He had a fuzzy memory of seeing a picture of that boy in his mother's drawer, but that was it. Was he named after John Anderson? Johnny got up and jumped when he heard his father's heavy drunk steps towards the attic and groaned when he saw the attic was still messy. Stuffing the letters in his jacket, he climbed out the window onto the tree in front and jumped down, walking towards the Curtis' house. Ponyboy liked mysteries. They'd both take a crack at this one.