The road turned from tar to red dirt, the dust billowing up by the open windows, getting into my hair.
I wasn't worried about skipping school. Lots of Bob's friends weren't there, and since I ran in his circle I figured I was safe, they wouldn't call my parents.
Two bit drove with one hand loosely on the wide steering wheel, a cigarette in the other hand, a beer nestled against his crotch.
We drove by horse pastures and from the corner of my eye I saw them flipping their tails. I took a swig of Two bit's beer and he smiled slow when I reached for it.
Despite the warm fall day and the pungent smell of the horses, reminding me of when I was a kid at rodeos, worries crept in. I was worried about Cherry. I was worried about Two bit's friends only because of the effect they were having on him. And I was worried about skipping school, I never skipped. Never sipped beer in a hoodlum's car in the middle of the afternoon.
"Would your parents mind if they knew you were with me?" he said suddenly, a joking light in his eyes. But I thought there was something serious beneath the joke.
They would mind. Not just because he was friends with Johnny and Ponyboy but because, well, he was poor. Poor people, in my parent's eyes, were for giving charity to and creating programs for but not to see socially. No.
"I don't know..." He raised one eyebrow. He knew I was lying. I knew he knew. So why did I lie?
And how did his parents feel about me? Probably that I was out of his league, that I was either toying with him or slumming. And the thing was, I wasn't sure they weren't right.
The sky was a clear uniform blue, unbroken by wisps of clouds, and I stared up at it and had a sudden panoramic vision of my future. I'd marry some business major dolt from a good family, and I could see him. Button up dress shirts and drab ties, overly polite to my parents despite getting sloppy drunk on the weekends in front of T.V. football games. Or maybe he'd have fine scotch every night in the cut crystal glasses my parents gave us as a wedding gift. And kids, dull little kids that look like me but act like him, dressed up in expensive kiddie clothes from the retail shops. And what would I do? What my mother does? Wear pearls and heels and sip chardonnay while the maid cleans up my messes? Plan dinner parties and cocktail parties, inviting all the right people to further my husband's career?
Right now, in this moment, I didn't want that. Two bit looked so good to me, so alive somehow, in a way these business majors from wealthy families could never be.
His hair looked darker with the grease slicking it back and today his eyes looked gray, still reminding me of the ocean on a cloudy day and I wanted to feel the hardness of his muscles and taste his lips. I wanted to avoid my cellophane wrapped future and continue to feel as alive as I did right now.
I wasn't worried about skipping school. Lots of Bob's friends weren't there, and since I ran in his circle I figured I was safe, they wouldn't call my parents.
Two bit drove with one hand loosely on the wide steering wheel, a cigarette in the other hand, a beer nestled against his crotch.
We drove by horse pastures and from the corner of my eye I saw them flipping their tails. I took a swig of Two bit's beer and he smiled slow when I reached for it.
Despite the warm fall day and the pungent smell of the horses, reminding me of when I was a kid at rodeos, worries crept in. I was worried about Cherry. I was worried about Two bit's friends only because of the effect they were having on him. And I was worried about skipping school, I never skipped. Never sipped beer in a hoodlum's car in the middle of the afternoon.
"Would your parents mind if they knew you were with me?" he said suddenly, a joking light in his eyes. But I thought there was something serious beneath the joke.
They would mind. Not just because he was friends with Johnny and Ponyboy but because, well, he was poor. Poor people, in my parent's eyes, were for giving charity to and creating programs for but not to see socially. No.
"I don't know..." He raised one eyebrow. He knew I was lying. I knew he knew. So why did I lie?
And how did his parents feel about me? Probably that I was out of his league, that I was either toying with him or slumming. And the thing was, I wasn't sure they weren't right.
The sky was a clear uniform blue, unbroken by wisps of clouds, and I stared up at it and had a sudden panoramic vision of my future. I'd marry some business major dolt from a good family, and I could see him. Button up dress shirts and drab ties, overly polite to my parents despite getting sloppy drunk on the weekends in front of T.V. football games. Or maybe he'd have fine scotch every night in the cut crystal glasses my parents gave us as a wedding gift. And kids, dull little kids that look like me but act like him, dressed up in expensive kiddie clothes from the retail shops. And what would I do? What my mother does? Wear pearls and heels and sip chardonnay while the maid cleans up my messes? Plan dinner parties and cocktail parties, inviting all the right people to further my husband's career?
Right now, in this moment, I didn't want that. Two bit looked so good to me, so alive somehow, in a way these business majors from wealthy families could never be.
His hair looked darker with the grease slicking it back and today his eyes looked gray, still reminding me of the ocean on a cloudy day and I wanted to feel the hardness of his muscles and taste his lips. I wanted to avoid my cellophane wrapped future and continue to feel as alive as I did right now.