Okay you guys, here is Chapter number 6. It's not as long as most
of the other chapters, but hopefully the next chapter will make up for it!
I already have a lot of it written, but it's not ready yet so I am just
going to go ahead and post this.
MissLkid: Once again thanks so much for keeping up w. my story girl! I am hoping that you will like this chapter also. I can't wait for the next update of "My Old New York Friend."
Jkb: Honey, don't worry about your rambling, you can ramble as much as you want! I love your reviews and how specific you are, I am really flattered that you like my writing! And don't worry, it was a great review:) I could never imagine people taunting and teasing you, because you are so sweet! *kisses jkb on the cheek* I hope you like this chapter as well, and I've already written a lot of the next chapter, so as soon as it's ready I'll put it up. Are you planning on putting up another Outsiders fic? Let me know if you are...
Okay, once again, if any-old-body is reading this story, even if you don't feel like reviewing, just friggin put a tiny two or three word sentence to let me know that people are actually reading the story, something like "Hey good story" or "Reading it"...LOL. Im really serious though...
Anyhow, here's the story...enjoy reading it (I hope)
The diner was still silent after Dally ran out. Summer sat rigid. Her anger had not been released when she had insulted the black-haired kid. It didn't feel good like she thought it would. No, now it was just building and building. Ever since that night Summer had felt rotten on the inside, just a living and breathing carcass that carried a whole lot of weight on its shoulders. One painful memory became her life, she repeated and repeated that night, not only in her mind, but also in her actions. Just how long can you suppress what's boiling underneath the surface? She was now realizing that she couldn't handle herself anymore, it was taking on a life of its own. She wouldn't be able to hide it anymore...
Everyone in the diner was now aware of the dark-haired non-greaser girl who had just gotten a little taste of the infamous Dallas Winston. They were all staring at her, the insecurities crawling beneath her smooth surface. She could feel the rapid pace of blood and adrenaline pouring through her. It was so uncomfortable to have tons of people staring at a figure that doesn't even feel like your own, although that's what they judge you by. She couldn't be released from the air that was suffocating her. The four greasers surrounding her stared at her puzzled, tons of emotions apparent in their faces...anger, confusion, uncertainty. The blonde one looked more hurt than angry, the young one looked uncomfortable. The one with rusty-colored sideburns just looked shocked, but the one with the complicated swirls, he had a cynical snarl on his face.
After a few seconds the music started up and people slowly started to add to their conversations. Steve was the first one at the table to speak up.
"I knew this wasn' t a good idea," he cast an angry glanced at the 18 year old, "Two-Bit." Two-Bit simply sat there, okay, he knew he had fucked up when he brought this girl along. He was only trying to help her. Damn Steve. Steve was always right on target with this kind of stuff "Sweetie, you better believe he's gonna getcha. He's gonna getcha good. Don't you have any sense in you? You don't attack people you don't even know..." his voice continuously growing louder and louder.
"Hold up!" a voice that had barely said anything was now speaking up. "Yes, it was mean, okay? Just leave her alone." Pony cast a glance at the girl sitting right next to him. "That was really coldhearted of you. You have no idea what he's been through. Just...leave now before it gets worse." Summer and the three other greasers sat there dumfounded. Okay, the kid didn't speak up much, but man, when he did...
It was such a different feeling for Summer, nobody had really told her off like that before, not in front of her face like that. Two-Bit shifted off the seat, letting her climb through. She left the restaurant in a daze. One sentence rang in her memory. You have no idea what he's been through. Yeah, well, they had no idea what she had been through. Nobody ever cared about her. Damn that black-haired kid, he had friends who actually stood up for him, no matter what. No matter what.
Dally wandered the streets, he needed some alone time to think. Johnny was acting a little...strange now to say the least. How could he just forget something so quickly, forgive that girl who had insulted him in front of all his friends? The kid himself needed to learn a thing or two about surviving on the streets. He just needed some common sense, Dally could help him with that. He wished Johnny weren't so sensitive, so...selfless. He never blamed others. Johnny had told him to forget about the whole thing, but Dally just couldn't. He could never, never forgive someone who crossed him or his friends like that. Dallas would never learn to let go.
Summer made it back to the school before the irritation would be there to pick her up. She had walked the whole way. Classes had ended a few minutes ago, and the buses were peeling out of the parking lot. Those who had cars sped out of there as fast as they could. Summer sat on the brick foundation in the entrance of the school, some other kids, mostly freshman, hanging around waiting for their rides.
"We're gonna go along for a ride, sweetie."
She looked over with her big blue eyes as he climbed into the drivers seat. The car peeled out from the squared parking lot of the diner. They moved farther and farther away from the suburban neighborhoods, further away from the straight and perfect streets which formed a rigid line that infiltrated into everything in her life.
As Summer observed the fleeting scene of the diner, memories clouded her thoughts: all the times she had sat in her room alone, observing and analyzing those who didn't think twice about what went on around them. Those who seemed perfectly content with their little paper doll lives. Summer would peek outside the window, watching the platonic families as they rode by, a dog hanging its head out the window with its tongue sticking out, while they drove on their way to school and work. Summer would look at herself in the rectangular mirror, tracing the contours of her face. A vision would always flood Summer's mind of herself in the future, a thirty-year-old housewife, in a checkered yellow apron. Her long, flowing hair would be butchered into a short poofy doo. Her slim arms with perfectly painted nails would be setting the table with peas and mashed potatoes, and her face with a huge fabricated smile for her husband who had just gotten home from an oh-so-hard day at work. The dullness of her eyes that were surrounded by long sleek hair would never change, oh no, it would never change. Huge, innocent, yet shallow eyes that had never experienced real life. The only thing that would be different is the fact that the lifeless eyes would now be surrounded by an exaggerated hairstyle.
Summer knew that she was stepping in line with thousands of other boys and girls to be the same entity, to follow the image of the All-American idealistic family. She was going to be just like everybody else who walked within the boundaries of everyday suburban life. The voices of survivors of horrible circumstances on the radio would echo in Summer's ears. The heroic story of how they almost died, but were given a second chance, and now they didn't take life for granted. It was always resounding in her ears, "Appreciate your life, life is a gift!" But how could she appreciate life when she wasn't living?
Her observant orbs examined him from the side. A tiny scar lay above his eyebrow, his crooked fingers lay coolly across the steering wheel. It was almost as if the digits were trying to display an act of assurance. Hey, look at us on the steering wheel! We're cool, everything is going smoothly. Ignore the fact that we are crooked...
"Where are we going?" she heard her little voice question. The corners of his flat lips rose into a twisted smile.
"Just you wait and see, honey babe. You are going to like it, mmmm are you going to like it!" She looked out the window as they went east of the DX gas station, the landmark that seperated the good side of town and the bad side of town. He continued to drive deeper and deeper into the forbidden territory. The streets started to curve: there was a lack of uniformity about them. Summer could feel her stomach twist and turn as she shifted from side to side in the seat. Poverty has no orderliness, the buildings aren't flawless and polished, they are so far from perfect. She observed the weathered buildings that shone under the bright light of the car's headlights. The strict boundaries slowly started to melt away. Nobody planned for the structures to slouch, the road to be chipped and faded. That was what was so great about it. It wasn't planned.
Summer was still riding high on the intoxication of being let free. She was finally breaking loose from the straight metal bars that had held her down her whole life. She wasn't going to step in line, and follow the straight, calculated path.
He took his gaze away from the road, and focused intently on her darling little orbs. His eyes were so yellow; she hadn't noticed that before. Not the paleness of his spheres, but the big part surrounding them that's supposed to be clear and shiny and pure. Summer's hands started to turn clammy and her heart started to pound ever so slighty. Summer wanted to tell him 'Stop! Drive me back. Let me out. Take me back to the diner where Emily waits for me.' But instead she found herself compelled by what sat right outside the window of the car as they zoomed by. She knew Emily wouldn't be there waiting for her when she got back.
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes, until suddenly Summer saw a figure jump out in front of the car, the car swerving out of the path to avoid the woman who had run in front of it. Summer's side of the vehicle slammed into the metal garage door of a warehouse that lay out of the path of the road and she cried out as her forehead hit the window. The indent on her chest burned from the seatbelt while her heart slammed into her rib cage. The whole front hood of the car had been popped open, and as Summer brought her hand up to her forehead she felt something thick dripping from her forehead. She could feel her hands start to shake. Between her fingers lay a red, slick, disgusting fluid. Nausea consumed her, but that was not what scared her the most. The figure who had dived in front of the car was now rabidly knocking her fist on the windshield of the car. She was an extremely malnourished woman, the top half of her body naked, the breasts drooping down on her chest. Her blond hair was cheaply dyed and black roots were showing. Lipstick had been carelessly applied, straying off the edges of her lips and curving onto the wrinkled skin that surrounded her mouth. The mascara was so heavy that it caked on her eyelashes. He stepped out of the car in a blind fit of rage.
"Damn whore! What the fuck were you doing? You ruined my car!" The woman backed up as her legs shown into the brightness of the left headlight. They were scattered all over with spider veins and varicose veins. Skin hung loosely from her bones, and scabs were dabbled all over her stickly arms. Her pupils, her black pin-sized pupils, looked on to him under droopy eyelids. As the woman opened her jaws to speak, Summer looked on in horror as she looked into the blackness of the mouth, one sole tooth hanging from the woman's top gum. Summer felt the bile rising up in her throat, the cola she had drinken earlier spilling onto her lap. This whore was run down, as run down as the structures that surrounded her.
"You got some smack baby?" she slurred, bringing her sickly hand up to his arm while she attempted to smile. Summer gripped the handle of the door and watched with terrified eyes as he kicked the woman, knocking her down onto the street.
"Get the fuck away from me you nasty bitch!" He continued to kick her, her fragile frame breaking under his weight. He pounded his foot into her chest, her sides, her head, his anger endless as he beat the woman into unconsciousness. "Serves you right for ruining my car you good for nothing old lady." As his fit of rage died down he remembered who sat in the passenger seat, and as he looked to her she was now shaking like a leaf. He glided through his side of the car, bringing his hand to her face. "Oh Baby, look what she did to you!" He traced her jawline with rugged fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Oh sweetie, ain't you a dainty little thing! Don't cry, my baby, don't cry, it's all going to be okay." He cast her a smile with his contorted teeth, bringing his lips up to her cheek.
Summer felt a rush of incontrollable emotions, emotions she had never felt before in such an extreme manner. 'Wait!' she called to herself, 'this is too much! Too many emotions, I am feeling too much. I am not used to feeling. Stop it! Stop!' But the coldness of his hands to her sweating skin, the warmth of his lips as he kissed her moist cheek...it made her delirious.
"Sweetie, step out of the car and come along with me for a little walk. Forget the damn car! Walking is just as nice." She hesitated, her conscience screaming in protest. But it wasn't really his fault that her forehead was bleeding, and the addict lay beaten on the ground. Hey, the woman had asked for it, right? He didn't really mean to kick her that hard, over and over again.
Is this really what she wanted? She stared down at the spew on her lap, imagining the square checkered apron laying across her legs. Yes. This was definitely what she wanted.
The sun was now hanging low because it was the afternoon, and the orange rays touched her light skin. The longer she waited for her aunt to pick her up, the longer her skin was exposed to the intense sun. Her chest, face, and arms started to turn red, her dark hair burning up. She observed the red blotches flourishing on her chest and started to feel a bit shaky. She had always thought that if she managed to look okay on the exterior, if she brushed her long, shiny hair and wore her elegant clothing, somehow, just somehow, she could fool herself into thinking that everything was okay. If others didn't know, she didn't have to know herself just how she felt inside. It was something her parents inadvertently taught her. Mom, always with her poofy yellow dresses and Dad with his business suits and polished shoes. Just put on a smile, and everything's okay. What if she didn't feel like putting on a smile?
It was like she couldn't handle it by herself anymore, outside forces were taking over and tainting her body without her permission. Stop! Hey, I didn't tell you you could do this! Or maybe it was forces not from the outside, but from inside of her. Everytime she thought about the incident that had happened in the diner a few hours ago, her breathing slowed to a lethargic pace and she could feel the bile rising up in her throat. All of those eyes, like tiny red glowing rats' eyes, rabid eyes, observing, analyzing her, tearing her apart. Not approving of the face she put on in the morning.
MissLkid: Once again thanks so much for keeping up w. my story girl! I am hoping that you will like this chapter also. I can't wait for the next update of "My Old New York Friend."
Jkb: Honey, don't worry about your rambling, you can ramble as much as you want! I love your reviews and how specific you are, I am really flattered that you like my writing! And don't worry, it was a great review:) I could never imagine people taunting and teasing you, because you are so sweet! *kisses jkb on the cheek* I hope you like this chapter as well, and I've already written a lot of the next chapter, so as soon as it's ready I'll put it up. Are you planning on putting up another Outsiders fic? Let me know if you are...
Okay, once again, if any-old-body is reading this story, even if you don't feel like reviewing, just friggin put a tiny two or three word sentence to let me know that people are actually reading the story, something like "Hey good story" or "Reading it"...LOL. Im really serious though...
Anyhow, here's the story...enjoy reading it (I hope)
The diner was still silent after Dally ran out. Summer sat rigid. Her anger had not been released when she had insulted the black-haired kid. It didn't feel good like she thought it would. No, now it was just building and building. Ever since that night Summer had felt rotten on the inside, just a living and breathing carcass that carried a whole lot of weight on its shoulders. One painful memory became her life, she repeated and repeated that night, not only in her mind, but also in her actions. Just how long can you suppress what's boiling underneath the surface? She was now realizing that she couldn't handle herself anymore, it was taking on a life of its own. She wouldn't be able to hide it anymore...
Everyone in the diner was now aware of the dark-haired non-greaser girl who had just gotten a little taste of the infamous Dallas Winston. They were all staring at her, the insecurities crawling beneath her smooth surface. She could feel the rapid pace of blood and adrenaline pouring through her. It was so uncomfortable to have tons of people staring at a figure that doesn't even feel like your own, although that's what they judge you by. She couldn't be released from the air that was suffocating her. The four greasers surrounding her stared at her puzzled, tons of emotions apparent in their faces...anger, confusion, uncertainty. The blonde one looked more hurt than angry, the young one looked uncomfortable. The one with rusty-colored sideburns just looked shocked, but the one with the complicated swirls, he had a cynical snarl on his face.
After a few seconds the music started up and people slowly started to add to their conversations. Steve was the first one at the table to speak up.
"I knew this wasn' t a good idea," he cast an angry glanced at the 18 year old, "Two-Bit." Two-Bit simply sat there, okay, he knew he had fucked up when he brought this girl along. He was only trying to help her. Damn Steve. Steve was always right on target with this kind of stuff "Sweetie, you better believe he's gonna getcha. He's gonna getcha good. Don't you have any sense in you? You don't attack people you don't even know..." his voice continuously growing louder and louder.
"Hold up!" a voice that had barely said anything was now speaking up. "Yes, it was mean, okay? Just leave her alone." Pony cast a glance at the girl sitting right next to him. "That was really coldhearted of you. You have no idea what he's been through. Just...leave now before it gets worse." Summer and the three other greasers sat there dumfounded. Okay, the kid didn't speak up much, but man, when he did...
It was such a different feeling for Summer, nobody had really told her off like that before, not in front of her face like that. Two-Bit shifted off the seat, letting her climb through. She left the restaurant in a daze. One sentence rang in her memory. You have no idea what he's been through. Yeah, well, they had no idea what she had been through. Nobody ever cared about her. Damn that black-haired kid, he had friends who actually stood up for him, no matter what. No matter what.
Dally wandered the streets, he needed some alone time to think. Johnny was acting a little...strange now to say the least. How could he just forget something so quickly, forgive that girl who had insulted him in front of all his friends? The kid himself needed to learn a thing or two about surviving on the streets. He just needed some common sense, Dally could help him with that. He wished Johnny weren't so sensitive, so...selfless. He never blamed others. Johnny had told him to forget about the whole thing, but Dally just couldn't. He could never, never forgive someone who crossed him or his friends like that. Dallas would never learn to let go.
Summer made it back to the school before the irritation would be there to pick her up. She had walked the whole way. Classes had ended a few minutes ago, and the buses were peeling out of the parking lot. Those who had cars sped out of there as fast as they could. Summer sat on the brick foundation in the entrance of the school, some other kids, mostly freshman, hanging around waiting for their rides.
"We're gonna go along for a ride, sweetie."
She looked over with her big blue eyes as he climbed into the drivers seat. The car peeled out from the squared parking lot of the diner. They moved farther and farther away from the suburban neighborhoods, further away from the straight and perfect streets which formed a rigid line that infiltrated into everything in her life.
As Summer observed the fleeting scene of the diner, memories clouded her thoughts: all the times she had sat in her room alone, observing and analyzing those who didn't think twice about what went on around them. Those who seemed perfectly content with their little paper doll lives. Summer would peek outside the window, watching the platonic families as they rode by, a dog hanging its head out the window with its tongue sticking out, while they drove on their way to school and work. Summer would look at herself in the rectangular mirror, tracing the contours of her face. A vision would always flood Summer's mind of herself in the future, a thirty-year-old housewife, in a checkered yellow apron. Her long, flowing hair would be butchered into a short poofy doo. Her slim arms with perfectly painted nails would be setting the table with peas and mashed potatoes, and her face with a huge fabricated smile for her husband who had just gotten home from an oh-so-hard day at work. The dullness of her eyes that were surrounded by long sleek hair would never change, oh no, it would never change. Huge, innocent, yet shallow eyes that had never experienced real life. The only thing that would be different is the fact that the lifeless eyes would now be surrounded by an exaggerated hairstyle.
Summer knew that she was stepping in line with thousands of other boys and girls to be the same entity, to follow the image of the All-American idealistic family. She was going to be just like everybody else who walked within the boundaries of everyday suburban life. The voices of survivors of horrible circumstances on the radio would echo in Summer's ears. The heroic story of how they almost died, but were given a second chance, and now they didn't take life for granted. It was always resounding in her ears, "Appreciate your life, life is a gift!" But how could she appreciate life when she wasn't living?
Her observant orbs examined him from the side. A tiny scar lay above his eyebrow, his crooked fingers lay coolly across the steering wheel. It was almost as if the digits were trying to display an act of assurance. Hey, look at us on the steering wheel! We're cool, everything is going smoothly. Ignore the fact that we are crooked...
"Where are we going?" she heard her little voice question. The corners of his flat lips rose into a twisted smile.
"Just you wait and see, honey babe. You are going to like it, mmmm are you going to like it!" She looked out the window as they went east of the DX gas station, the landmark that seperated the good side of town and the bad side of town. He continued to drive deeper and deeper into the forbidden territory. The streets started to curve: there was a lack of uniformity about them. Summer could feel her stomach twist and turn as she shifted from side to side in the seat. Poverty has no orderliness, the buildings aren't flawless and polished, they are so far from perfect. She observed the weathered buildings that shone under the bright light of the car's headlights. The strict boundaries slowly started to melt away. Nobody planned for the structures to slouch, the road to be chipped and faded. That was what was so great about it. It wasn't planned.
Summer was still riding high on the intoxication of being let free. She was finally breaking loose from the straight metal bars that had held her down her whole life. She wasn't going to step in line, and follow the straight, calculated path.
He took his gaze away from the road, and focused intently on her darling little orbs. His eyes were so yellow; she hadn't noticed that before. Not the paleness of his spheres, but the big part surrounding them that's supposed to be clear and shiny and pure. Summer's hands started to turn clammy and her heart started to pound ever so slighty. Summer wanted to tell him 'Stop! Drive me back. Let me out. Take me back to the diner where Emily waits for me.' But instead she found herself compelled by what sat right outside the window of the car as they zoomed by. She knew Emily wouldn't be there waiting for her when she got back.
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes, until suddenly Summer saw a figure jump out in front of the car, the car swerving out of the path to avoid the woman who had run in front of it. Summer's side of the vehicle slammed into the metal garage door of a warehouse that lay out of the path of the road and she cried out as her forehead hit the window. The indent on her chest burned from the seatbelt while her heart slammed into her rib cage. The whole front hood of the car had been popped open, and as Summer brought her hand up to her forehead she felt something thick dripping from her forehead. She could feel her hands start to shake. Between her fingers lay a red, slick, disgusting fluid. Nausea consumed her, but that was not what scared her the most. The figure who had dived in front of the car was now rabidly knocking her fist on the windshield of the car. She was an extremely malnourished woman, the top half of her body naked, the breasts drooping down on her chest. Her blond hair was cheaply dyed and black roots were showing. Lipstick had been carelessly applied, straying off the edges of her lips and curving onto the wrinkled skin that surrounded her mouth. The mascara was so heavy that it caked on her eyelashes. He stepped out of the car in a blind fit of rage.
"Damn whore! What the fuck were you doing? You ruined my car!" The woman backed up as her legs shown into the brightness of the left headlight. They were scattered all over with spider veins and varicose veins. Skin hung loosely from her bones, and scabs were dabbled all over her stickly arms. Her pupils, her black pin-sized pupils, looked on to him under droopy eyelids. As the woman opened her jaws to speak, Summer looked on in horror as she looked into the blackness of the mouth, one sole tooth hanging from the woman's top gum. Summer felt the bile rising up in her throat, the cola she had drinken earlier spilling onto her lap. This whore was run down, as run down as the structures that surrounded her.
"You got some smack baby?" she slurred, bringing her sickly hand up to his arm while she attempted to smile. Summer gripped the handle of the door and watched with terrified eyes as he kicked the woman, knocking her down onto the street.
"Get the fuck away from me you nasty bitch!" He continued to kick her, her fragile frame breaking under his weight. He pounded his foot into her chest, her sides, her head, his anger endless as he beat the woman into unconsciousness. "Serves you right for ruining my car you good for nothing old lady." As his fit of rage died down he remembered who sat in the passenger seat, and as he looked to her she was now shaking like a leaf. He glided through his side of the car, bringing his hand to her face. "Oh Baby, look what she did to you!" He traced her jawline with rugged fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Oh sweetie, ain't you a dainty little thing! Don't cry, my baby, don't cry, it's all going to be okay." He cast her a smile with his contorted teeth, bringing his lips up to her cheek.
Summer felt a rush of incontrollable emotions, emotions she had never felt before in such an extreme manner. 'Wait!' she called to herself, 'this is too much! Too many emotions, I am feeling too much. I am not used to feeling. Stop it! Stop!' But the coldness of his hands to her sweating skin, the warmth of his lips as he kissed her moist cheek...it made her delirious.
"Sweetie, step out of the car and come along with me for a little walk. Forget the damn car! Walking is just as nice." She hesitated, her conscience screaming in protest. But it wasn't really his fault that her forehead was bleeding, and the addict lay beaten on the ground. Hey, the woman had asked for it, right? He didn't really mean to kick her that hard, over and over again.
Is this really what she wanted? She stared down at the spew on her lap, imagining the square checkered apron laying across her legs. Yes. This was definitely what she wanted.
The sun was now hanging low because it was the afternoon, and the orange rays touched her light skin. The longer she waited for her aunt to pick her up, the longer her skin was exposed to the intense sun. Her chest, face, and arms started to turn red, her dark hair burning up. She observed the red blotches flourishing on her chest and started to feel a bit shaky. She had always thought that if she managed to look okay on the exterior, if she brushed her long, shiny hair and wore her elegant clothing, somehow, just somehow, she could fool herself into thinking that everything was okay. If others didn't know, she didn't have to know herself just how she felt inside. It was something her parents inadvertently taught her. Mom, always with her poofy yellow dresses and Dad with his business suits and polished shoes. Just put on a smile, and everything's okay. What if she didn't feel like putting on a smile?
It was like she couldn't handle it by herself anymore, outside forces were taking over and tainting her body without her permission. Stop! Hey, I didn't tell you you could do this! Or maybe it was forces not from the outside, but from inside of her. Everytime she thought about the incident that had happened in the diner a few hours ago, her breathing slowed to a lethargic pace and she could feel the bile rising up in her throat. All of those eyes, like tiny red glowing rats' eyes, rabid eyes, observing, analyzing her, tearing her apart. Not approving of the face she put on in the morning.