Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns everything you recognize. I only own the plot, Alicia and all my other Original Characters.
Response to the lovely reviewer, irene: Yes, I'm well aware that Tim isn't a cigarette, but thanks anyways. :)
Tim awoke to the smell of something burning. It was ten to one, Angela attempting to cook breakfast. Alicia didn't know how to use a stove, and Curly would most likely burn the house down. Last year, Angela had taken Home Economics as her elective, and liked to broadcast it by making food. She wasn't very good.
He walked downstairs, now smelling not only burning food, but smoke. That was not a good sign. But the combined stench of burning food and the fact that he had one hell of a hangover made him nauseous. Tim ran to the bathroom. He bent over the toilet as his stomach heaved and he threw up. Wiping the vomit off his mouth with the back of his hand, he stormed into the kitchen to find out exactly what Angela had managed to fuck up this time.
"Ah!" Angela shrieked as giant flames leaped out at her from the oven. Uselessly, she fanned at the flames, but that made them grow. "Oh, shit!" She screamed. She felt a hand roughly grab her by the shoulder and push her away. Tim had grabbed a bowl full of water and tossed it on the fire. There was a splash and sizzling sound, then it was silent.
Tim whirled around and faced Angela. "What the hell were trying do?" He demanded. His voice was hoarse.
"I was trying to make breakfast," she said, pointing at the now-soaked- were they pancakes? waffles?- in the oven. "I felt like something other than cereal or toast. And then it just… caught fire."
Tim looked at the carnage that was, just a few minutes ago, an oven. "Well, you fucked up big time. Wonder what mom and dad'll say."
"What'll mom and dad say to what?" Their mother stood in the doorway. Then she caught sight of the oven and screamed. "Good Lord, Angela! What in hell's name did you do?" She staggered over to the oven, coughing on the smoke that still lingered in the air, and dropped to her knees and peered inside. "What were you trying to make?"
Angela began to chew on her thumbnail. "Pancakes," she answered in a small voice.
There was a loud crash and Curly and Alicia ran into the room. Actually, Curly tripped and fell into the room, the source of the crash. Alicia prodded him with the toe of her shoe, then inhaled. "Was something burning?"
"Yeah, Angela tried to make herself breakfast," Tim said.
Angela glared at him. "I know how to do this stuff!" she shrieked. "I took a class on it for two fucking semesters!"
Alicia patted Angela on the shoulder. "Angel, don't freak out about it. Just because you took a class doesn't make you a world class chef. Take Curly, for instance," she nodded at her brother. "He's taken math for almost seven years. Doesn't even know long division."
Curly shrugged. "Not like it's ever gonna be any use in the real world."
Their mother pursed her lips. She always did that when she was upset. "Curly, it will come up when you grow up. And you're gonna have to be prepared."
"Aw, ma, it ain't like I'm ever gonna get a job. I'll probably just join the military or something."
His mother rolled her eyes. "Back on the subject of the oven…" she stopped and looked at Angela.
"Can we fix it?" she asked, looking a bit worried. She would be in deep shit if she broke the oven.
Mrs. Shepard sighed. "I don't know, Angela. She looked at the kitchen clock. "Damnit! I'm already late." She kissed Angela and Alicia, hugged Curly and Tim, and dashed out the door.
A few minutes later, after a quick breakfast of corn flakes and orange juice, Alicia and Angela left for school. Tim forgot it was Wednesday. Curly, however, planted his ass at the kitchen table and picked up the paper. "Aren't you going to school?" Tim asked.
"Nope. Don't feel like it."
"Why not?"
Curly eyed Tim. No matter how slow he tended to be, even he couldn't miss how Tim had changed. His brother, once his idol, his hero, now spoke in a quiet, almost monotonous, voice, kept his eyes downcast, and stayed home all the time. He was getting skinnier by the day, and looked almost emaciated. Curly had seen Tim go through this change once before.
For Curly's fourteenth birthday, Tim had taken him to a bar. It was Curly, Tim, Dallas Winston and a few other guys from the Shepard gang. Curly didn't know it was going to be a strip bar, but he went along with it anyway. They were almost in, when the bouncer needed to see identification that they were legal. Tim got in a fight with the guy, and they got arrested. When they were jail, only for three weeks, Tim, already underweight, had shrunken until he was almost as skinny as Angela was when she was sick for two weeks and couldn't eat anything.
The younger boy didn't know why Tim shrunk the way did. The truth was, Tim didn't eat when he was afraid. And Tim was afraid of going to jail. Actually, in that instance, it had been his fear of Curly going to prison, not him. As much as Tim hated to admit it, he loved his siblings, especially Curly, and felt, at times it was job to take care of them. And it had been his fault that Curly was there in the first place.
Curly didn't know exactly what was going on with Tim. Unlike Alicia and Angela, he left Tim to his own personal problems. Let him deal with them on his own, was Curly's idea. He didn't care if Tim was gay or not, didn't matter in the least to him. As long as Tim didn't flaunt it and ruin Curly's hard-earned reputation, he was fine. However, even he noticed the absence of a certain person whose initials were D. W.
"Curly? Curly?" Tim's voice, soft and hoarse, interrupted Curly's thoughts.
He blinked and shook his head. "What?"
"I asked why you weren't going to school."
Curly shrugged. "Don't wanna."
Tim lifted an arm and ran his fingers through his hair. Curly was surprised at how skeletal his brother's arm was. "Tim… are-are you all right?" He asked, timidly. Curly knew exactly how Tim could react when he was pissed.
Surprisingly, his brother didn't seem to mind. "I'm fine, why?"
Curly chose his words carefully. "I don't know, you just seem… different. You're all quiet and shit."
Tim shrugged. "Just been tired and worried lately." He almost smiled. "I'm fine."
"Okay, I was just wondering, that's all," Curly mumbled. Then he decided to change the subject. "Wanna do something today?"
His brother shook his head. "No, Cassie and me have plans." He said, in that same, soft voice that was so different from his usual loud, sarcastic voice he used up to a few weeks ago, and left.
The lunch bell rang, and two hundred students fought to get to the lunch room. While Angela was waiting in line to get a sandwich, she noticed some bitchy girls harassing someone. Upon closer inspection, Angela saw it was Summer Anderson, a girl she had a few classes with.
Summer's name was sort of ironic. Whenever Angela pictured someone named Summer, she saw a preppy blonde girl with a tan, nice build and blue eyes. Summer Anderson was just the opposite. She was very short and scrawny and she had white skin, not just pale, but white, black, stick- straight hair and black eyes. Her usual choice of clothing was baggy, black shirts and baggy, black pants. She had no friends and usually kept to herself. She ate alone and normally read during lunch. Her books were morbid, generally by Edgar Allen Poe or some nutjob like that, and she devoured them. So Angela didn't understand why people bullied Summer: she kept to herself and was very quiet.
Angela nudged Alicia. "Look," she whispered and pointed to the girls and Summer.
"What?"
"It's that Courtney girl and her little posse."
"So?"
Angela rolled her eyes. "They're at it again." She was referring to Courtney's group's habit of bullying people. They would pick on one person, for about a month or so, then move on.
Courtney was friends with Rose. They were the "popular" girls: bitchy, annoying and blonde. Courtney was the ringleader of their little gang, and Rose was the second-in-command. Alicia and Angela made it a point to make their lives a living hell, and they were normally successful in it.
"Angel, why do you care? I mean, it's not like you're friends with Summer."
"Were you friends with Travis when you saved him from the Socs?"
"No, but-"
"Same thing here, now come on." Angela was the same as Alicia in the respect that neither could stand out-numbering people.
"So, Summer, has your dad killed anyone else yet?" One of the girls, Britney, Angela thought her name was, asked, in an annoying, taunting voice. Summer's father was arrested for murder once, a few years back, but people still teased her about it. It made Angela's blood boil.
Summer showed far more self-restraint than Angela would have believed possible in the situation. If it were Angela in her place, she would already be in prison for homicide. Summer was silent, continuing to read. "C'mon, answer me!" Britney whined. Britney was one of those horrible girls who pissed and moaned about their lives: how awful it was because Daddy wouldn't let her borrow the car, Mommy wouldn't give her money to buy a new dress, etc. Angela hated her.
"Hey, Britney, why don't you go stick yourself in axle grease and shove yourself back where you came from?" Angela called. Britney whirled around.
"Fuck off, Shepard, unless you want some," she sneered.
Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, Brit, but you're interrupting our lunch date with Summer." She shoved aside one of the girls and sat down next to Summer, who looked a little more than surprised at the fact that the infamous Shepard sisters were sitting next to her.
Angela sat in the chair on the opposite side of Summer. Then she glared at Courtney, Britney and their little group. "So, how 'bout you leave us the fuck alone, all right?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "So, go on. Go away."
Courtney stared, he mouth gaping open. Then she sneered. "Fine." And they stalked off.
When they were gone, Alicia turned to Summer and grinned. Summer stared. "So, whatcha reading?" Alicia asked, still smiling. Summer showed her the book cover without saying anything. It was The Catcher in the Rye. "Ah, is it good?"
Summer shrugged. "It's okay." She had a whispery, hoarse voice. Her big, black eyes took up almost half her face. It was kind of scary, in a way. They were silent for a moment. "Thanks." Summer said, in that soft voice. "For helping me, I mean."
Angela laughed. "No problem, man. See, we, me an' Ali, we just don't like outnumbering. Makes us sick."
Alicia nodded, "and we don't like them. Bad experiences."
"Like what?"
Alicia leaned forward. "The one, Courtney, she went out with our brother, Curly. Biggest. Bitch. Ever."
"Yeah. She was loud as fuck in the bedroom with him." Angela made her voice high-pitched and whiny. "Curly! Ah, ah, don't stop!"
Summer grinned. When she smiled, her mouth looked too big for her and sort of split her face in half. And then her eyes, already almost abnormally large, expanded. God, it was scary, but at the same time, kind of cool. Summer was pretty, in her own way. "How old's Curly?" she asked.
"He's fifteen now. Goes to this school," Angela said.
"Oh. Do you like him?"
Alicia thought for a moment. "Yeah, he's all right. Actually, it's more me and Curly that get along, and Angel and Tim."
"Tim?" Summer asked.
"Other brother. Eighteen. Used to have a boyfr-" Angela covered her mouth. "Oh, shit, just ignore that one."
Alicia nudged her sister. "No, Angel. Can't keep secrets from Summer. She's our friend now, remember?"
Summer looked up. "We're… friends?" She asked, uncertainly. Alicia felt a pang of compassion for Summer. She didn't think the girl ever had any friends.
Alicia nodded, brightly. "Yep. And so we ain't gonna keep secrets from each other. Me and Angel don't."
Her sister rolled her eyes. "Alicia, we're sisters. It's impossible to keep secrets from each other."
"So, what happened with your brother?" Summer asked.
Alicia leaned forward. "You know Dallas Winston?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "They were together. Like, a couple."
Summer raised her eyebrows. "So, Tim was gay? With Dallas Winston?"
"Yeah, and damn, they were like wild animals!" Alicia laughed.
Angela pushed her shoulder. "Not so loud, Alicia! Do you want the whole fucking world to know?"
Her sister snorted. "Why do you care?"
"Because it'd be pretty fucking embarrassing to be known as 'Tim's, whose a fag's, little sister,' don't you think?"
Summer piped up. "So, what do you two think about Tim and his whole… thing with Dallas?"
Alicia shrugged. "I don't care. Honestly, if it makes Tim…, well, happy I guess, then what's the big deal with it? As long as he keeps it to himself, I don't care."
"Same," Angela said. "Long as he's happy, and keeps it in his pants, I don't care."
The bell rang, and Alicia scowled. "Lunch is too short," she said.
Summer nodded. "What've you got next?"
Alicia sighed. "Math. Fucking math. You?"
"History," Summer said.
"Hey Angela." A tall, dark kid with shaggy hair put an arm around Angela's waist and pulled her out of the crowd. It was Bryon, Angela's current boyfriend.
"Who was that?" Summer asked Alicia.
Alicia linked her arm through Summer's. "Angel's boyfriend," she answered, and she shoved their way through the crowd.
Tim shoved his hands in his pockets. He'd just gone to Mitch's house, had a few joints and a bang in the sack, and now was going back home. Curly would most likely be home, and, if the clock in Mitch's house was right, so would Alicia and Angela. He passed a gas station, walked inside and bought some cigarettes. The clock on the wall read 3:24. Yes, Alicia and Angela would be home.
He paid for the cigarettes and left. The moment he stepped on the street, he lit one and took a long drag. For a fleeting moment, he wished he were Curly. Curly didn't have to go to war. Curly didn't have to worry if his ex would ever speak to him. All Curly had to do was not get arrested again. And even he was incapable of doing that.
To make matters worse, Tim's parents were home, too. He opened the door, and narrowly avoided being hit with a flying lamp. His father was swearing and throwing things at his mother, who was yelling at the top of her lungs at him. Curly and his sisters were nowhere.
Tim ran upstairs, trying to get away from the small, glass objects being hurled around. It was a wonder stuff still worked in his house. He ran past Curly's room, which was silent. Curly must have been over at someone's house. Then Alicia and Angela's room. Music, the Beatles, wafted out, as well as Alicia's cackling laughter. God, he needed to get away from everything.
Slamming and locking the door behind him, Tim sank onto his bed. God, he hated everything right now. And he wished he could actually tell someone. Not Alicia; she was too loud and would end up telling someone. Angela would just tell him that life wasn't fair and shit happened. And Curly… Curly wouldn't understand. He stood up. There was only one place to go when everything sucked. Buck's.
Tim almost ran up the driveway. There was already a party going. There always was. He flung open the door and went inside. As always, there was Hank Williams blaring out the speakers, but Tim couldn't sum up the energy to get disgusted at Buck's god-awful choice of music. Instead, he went up to the first pretty blonde he could find and offered to get her a drink.
As they walked to get the drinks- a beer for him and a Scotch for her- Tim saw Dally. He was necking with a girl with wavy red hair. Jealousy flared up, but Tim didn't do anything, for once. He was too tired or confused, or both. It was always Curly that was all mouth and no action, and Tim who backed up everything he said. Instead, Tim pulled the girl, whose name was Jennifer, away from Dally and led her in the opposite direction.
Dally saw Tim and some broad together, and had a smug feeling of satisfaction when he saw Tim pull the girl away. Dally knew Tim saw him, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat depressed. God damn you, Tim Shepard, he thought as he pulled a hand through his girl's hair. He didn't even know the chick's name.
Then Dally noticed someone walk through the door. He pushed the girl off him, and ran up to the person. It was Alicia, and Dally knew that, when she was smashed, she could tell anything. And Dally was determined to know what was going on with Tim.
"Hey, Alicia," Dally said, in a voice he hoped was suave and cunning. It really turned out more desperate.
"Oh, hey, Dallas," she said, distractedly. "Look, I'm lookin' for someone, so, can you-"
"They aren't here," Dally said.
Alicia raised her eyebrows. "You don't even know who I'm looking for." She said, shortly.
Dally took her hand. He knew that Tim was in the same room, and Tim could get pretty fucking defensive and over-protective of his siblings, but Dallas didn't care. "Come on, Ali, just let me buy you a drink."
She wrenched her hand out of his grasp. Dally wanted to hit her, but he'd learned, through trial and error, that all bitchy chicks need to cool down is a good, stiff drink. Besides, he knew that if he dared lay a hand on either Alicia or Angela, Tim and Curly would be on his ass. And, for a fleeting moment, he saw Alicia as Tim. They had the same, long, thin face, long nose, flashing dark eyes and curly hair.
Dally reached out and gently touched one of her black curls. She hardly moved, only narrowed her eyes. He half-smiled, then ran his fingers over the length of the curl. She reached up and swatted his hand away. "Don't touch my hair unless you buy me a drink," she snapped. Inwardly, Dally smirked. He knew that Alicia couldn't pass up free booze.
After they both had had four beers, all eight were out of Dally's wallet, she started to talk. Her speech was slurred, but Dally was used to people talking like that. "So, anyway, there's this chick, Cassie, and Tim, like, is in love with her or somethin'." Dally raised an eyebrow.
"Who is she?"
"She's the one he went to the play with. Ya know, short hair, kinda skinny…?"
Dally thought for a moment. Yes, he remembered Cassie. She was actually quite good-looking. "Yeah, I remember her."
"Tim wen' out with her for a while. Then they broke up, an' I guess they're back together now." She stopped for a moment, then looked as though she remembered something. "Oh, yeah an' then there's Mitch."
"Mitch?"
"Yeah, Tim's new frien'. They're like, goin' out, or together or somethin'. Like you two were. I heard one of their phone conversations. Tim said somethin' like he wanted Mitch's body or somethin', an' then he laughed an' said somethin' like Mitch was gonna meet him naked, I dunno." She laughed, drunkenly, and brushed her hair out of her face.
Even though he was blazing with anger and jealousy, Dally couldn't help but notice how much Alicia looked like Tim. Especially from the side. Her eyelids were drooping in the same way Tim's did after sex, and her lips curved up at the corners exactly like his. But at the same time, she had her own charm. Not like Angela, who was flat-out gorgeous, but Alicia had more of a down-to-earth attraction. God, she's cute, Dally thought. But he knew not to get involved with the Shepards. Every time he did, it ended horribly.
"Is that it?" He asked, eager to distract himself from his growing attraction to her. Actually, it wasn't an attraction, it was more lust. She looked like Tim, she was drunk, and he was horny and drunk. It wasn't a very good combination, and it was only going to lead to disaster.
With his mind hazy with liquor, Dally grabbed Alicia by the back of the head and pressed their lips together. He tasted like alcohol and cigarettes. When they pulled away, she slapped him. Even if she was shit-faced drunk, she knew more or less what was going on, and she didn't like it. "What the fuck are you doing?" she shrieked. She grabbed the half-full beer bottle, and began to walk away.
"Wait, Tim!" He shouted.
Alicia stopped dead. Then she turned around, slowly. "Tim?" she whispered to herself. He thinks I'm Tim. It registered. That's why he kissed me. He thinks I'm Tim, and he still loves Tim. Holy shit. She shook her alcohol-fazed head. Then why aren't he and Tim still together? She shook her head again and laughed. She staggered away and decided to talk about it with Angela in the morning.
Tim pretended not to notice Dally and Alicia -of all people- take hands and walk away. He pretended not to see them talking so close that they were almost kissing. And he pretended not to watch as Dally smashed his lips against hers. He felt a sort of pride and satisfaction as Alicia slapped Dallas and walked away. Alicia never let people get fresh with her.
Something bit his neck, hard, and he jumped. "Ow, mother of fuck!" He'd forgotten about Jennifer. She looked up at him, and smiled.
"Wanna go somewhere else?" She asked.
Tim stood, shakily. "No, actually, Jen, I'm kind of tired. I think… I think I'm gonna go home." If he hurried, he could catch up with Alicia and ask her what happened.
"Aw, but Tim," Jennifer whined.
"No," he said, firmly, and he ran after Alicia.
He didn't find her, though. Instead, he went home alone. There was no one in the house: Curly was out with his friends, Angela was on a date, Alicia was somewhere and his parents were at a bar.
Tim fell down on the couch. He buried his head in his hands for a few moments, then stood and nearly ran into his room. There he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. He knew it was seriously lame to write letters, even if he didn't send them, but it was the only way he could let out his emotions.
Dallas-
I know, you're probably still pretty fucking pissed at me. And, in all honesty, I don't really blame you. I was a bastard, and I deserved everything I got. And I shouldn't be asking this, but I would love it if you took me back. I'd fucking love it.
It's going to be scary as fuck in Vietnam. If there was anything I could do so I didn't have to go, I'd do it. I'd do it in a fucking heartbeat. Everything's just so fucked up right now.
I'll miss you like a bastard. I really will. I'll miss you more than I'll miss my family. Right now, I actually want to go to Vietnam, just so I can get away from everything. I want to get away from my gang, from Angela and Alicia and Curly and Mom and Dad. I just need to get away from everything. I hate everything. Except you, because I don't think I could ever hate you.
I could never hate you because I love you. I never told you; fuck, I probably never will, but it's true. –
Tim