Chapter 8: Home, For Good.
Disclaimer: I, in no way, own The Outsiders...
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The drive back to the Curtis' house... was long... quiet... and something I'd never forget...
I was far from calm.
The never-ending gushes of tears furiously burned my cold skin. On top of that, I was sweating profusely. My hair was fully drenched, and my shirt was already halfway there...
Glory, but why was I feeling like this? Greasers didn't cry. We were supposed to be un-phasable. We were s'possed to be steel cold... but why was I crying? And crying over my old man, of all things?
No.
Stop.
I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't be like this. I was... breaking down, and it wasn't a good sign... I needed to clear my mind... I needed some action.
The truck finally seemed to come to a slow stop on the driveway...
I felt like Soda understood -- he always did. But god knows what he went through when his parents died, and knowing that didn't make me feel too hot -- that only made me feel worse crying in front of him...
'Greasers don't cry!' I yelled inwardly at myself. 'You sissy! You coward! Pansy! Greasers don't cry! Be a MAN! Don't. Cry.'
To be tuff in on this side of the tracks, you had to be tough.
At that moment -- I was far from it...
"I'll get your stuff... don't worry, man." Soda whispered, still in the drivers seat. "Take your time. It's okay." He slowly got out of the truck and closed the door with a soft 'click'. While he had been taking in my stuff, I waited for myself to calm down and get a grip.
Slightly shivering, I gingerly wiped my eyes with my sleeve. When I was sure I wasn't gonna start brawling again, I got out clumsily and walked inside the house -- what I hoped to now call... my home.
Everyone was there, and as soon as I stepped in, they all stopped what they were up to and looked at me. I gulped, and was suddenly overcome with nervous anxiety. Did they know? Did Soda tell them? What would Darry say to letting me stay?
"Hey..." I muttered lamely, looking over to find Soda sitting on the couch.
"Hey." they all responded, verbatim.
Meeting my eyes, Soda gave me a quick nod. That only meant one thing: He hadn't told.
I sighed with relief and plopped myself in the empty rocking chair. Now the only hurdle was asking Darry... but golly -- Soda was the one who should ask -- I mean, it was his idea! But then again... I should probably ask him myself... I don't think I 'd be too sure of what I did around the house otherwise...
Aa a few moments passed, and with the steady sounds of the gang's laughter of good times, I was lulled to sleep...
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Times like these, I think I really got Randle out of character... but don't worry! Next chapter is leading to the beloved fun times!
Feedback would be the BEST!
Till next time...