Author's Note: I like this chapter...One of the character's is based on a real person and this is a GREAT way to get feelings out. Writing is a WONDERFUL outlet...
Raine: I CHANGED it, did you see? Added stuff to chapter 10 two more times, which goes to show you never upload right after you finish writing something, it's bound to be missing a vital part.
Disclaimer: Only in one of her books has S.E. Hinton created a scenario like the one at the end of the chapter, and I did NOT get it from her! Sheesh...
Chapter 11
Angel's POV
My apartment was spotless when I got home early at twelve. The bed was made--with clean sheets even--the dishes that had been in the sink weren't there anymore, and even my bathroom was picked up. I wondered which one of the boys had done it, Two Bit or Ponyboy. Soda couldn't have and I was stumped as to how they'd gotten him down those stairs when he could barely sit up last night. I shrugged it off and set my bag of groceries on the counter. I started making my pasta salad for the company picnic at one thirty. I sighed softly as I thought of Darry and the night before. I liked him. I really liked him. There was definitely chemistry between us, but I didn't know how to act on it. My not so recent experience with Jim had completely obliterated my trust in men in general. During my thinking I had been slicing tomatoes with a sharp paring knife. I hadn't been paying attention to what I was doing and I sliced my finger.
"OW! OW! OW!" I shrieked as I ran to the sink and rinsed it until the bleeding had slowed. Seeing the cut wrapped up in a Band-Aid made me think about Darry. Darry had saved me from Jim. He'd held me close and didn't let go until I had made him. He had been gentle with me, treating like porcelain, when he'd cleaned the cut my father had inflicted on me. He had never once showed me any of the bad traits all the other men in my life had. I could give him a chance, couldn't I? After all everyone deserved a chance, didn't they? I could give him a chance. I stand to, couldn't I? What could it hurt?
I got to the country club the picnic was being held at as it was starting. There were blankets set out all over the place and people milling around everywhere. I joined ran to the row of tables that had been lined up to bear the heavy burden of all the food the employees of CRS Roofing had brought to deposit my bowl of pasta salad. When I turned around to join the back of the line, Darry was there, holding a chocolate cake.
"Hi!" We said at the same time, with matching expressions of shock.
"What are you--?"
"You work at--?" We spoke simultaneously.
"You first," We said at the same time and then laughed. He put his finger over my lips.
"You first," He lifted his finger.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to my company picnic. Since when do you work for CRS?"
"Since last month."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I'm Thompson's secretary."
"Wow."
"Small world, isn't it?"
"I guess so."
As we talked we moved to the end of the line, right behind a blonde girl who was wearing rather short shorts and a button up shirt tied around her middle so her back and belly button were exposed. Neither of us paid much attention to her until she stopped in the middle of the line, her lips puckered up and her brow furrowed. When Darry asked her what the matter was she looked at him apologetically.
"Oh, it's just that this cake looks so good, but it's so fattening and I just don't know whether or not to get a piece. I'm just so fat, you know?" I raised my eyebrows.
"You're skinny as a stick."
"Oh no, I'm not! Look at this!" She tried to pinch imaginary fat on her stomach. "Look at all that!" I rolled my eyes and glanced at Darry, almost dropping my plate when he responded to her:
"Why! You're not fat at all! You must weigh what? Like one twenty?" Her lip quivered.
"Am I really that fat!" She ran away from the table and dumped her plate in the trash.
"Good grief..." I muttered under my breath. I knew this girl. She was Michelle Coleridge, the biggest flirt this side of town and the niece of one of the co-owners of CRS. She was the kind of girl that stroked a guy's ego and played dumb, clingy, and sappy to get attention, male attention if at all possible. I knew she was a fake. Unfortunately, Darry didn't. He ran after her, apologizing, and soon had her draped over him.
"Darry! I'll be sitting over there! Darry!"
He obviously didn't hear me; in fact, Michelle was pulling him over to a sunny blanket and giggling shrilly. I rolled my eyes again and went to sit on an empty blanket in the shade of a huge weeping willow on the edge of the park. No sooner had I sat down when a pair of legs walked over. When I looked up, I saw Jonathan Park, Mr. Thompson's assistant, who I often saw running in and out of Thompson's office. He was a young man, maybe twenty-five or so and had the most adorable, "boy next door" blonde looks.
"Hi, Mr. Park," He flinched.
"Please Miss Conway, call me Jonathan, or Jon, if you like." I laughed.
"Well then, you must call me Angela, or Angel. That way I won't feel so old when you talk to me." He smiled
"Angela...I like that. So, Angela, how do you like working at CRS?"
The conversation went on, mostly small talk, when suddenly; Darry plopped down at my side. I glanced at him, slightly annoyed, and continued my conversation with Jonathan. He broke in and asked Jonathan to excuse me for a moment.
"I need to talk to her, just for a moment. I'm sorry." Jonathan dismissed us with a wave of his hand. Darry stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and when I stood up, he held onto it and pulled me onto one of the many paths that intertwined throughout the county club grounds.
"Hey, I'm sorry about that...thing back there. I didn't mean to leave you all by yourself."
I shrugged and pulled my hand away.
"You seemed to be having a good time..." I hated myself for using that pouty voice.
"I wasn't, really. I don't like girls like that, the kind that squeal and complain about their weight." I took several steps away from him and words poured out of my mouth before I could stop them:
"You looked like you were enjoying yourself. But if you don't like girls like her, what kind of girls do you like then?" His hands were on my shoulders and gently turning me to face him.
"I like girls like you." I felt my stomach drop at the look in his eyes. "I like you." His voice was soft as butterfly wings and before I knew what was happening, I kissed him.
