"Hey, Pony," Ashley said kindly, but I couldn't help but think it sounded like she was talking to a three year old.
"Hi," he looked a little confused, and I serisouly couldn't blame him. I wasn't entirely sure he remembered who I was...which could turn out to be very, very awkward.
"We just came to see how you were doing. You know, we read in the paper about...we just wondered how you were doing."
"I'm...fine, really..."
"Pony, you finish your math?" A voice called from inside, cutting him off.
"No, but I'm nearly done! Just a minute!" He stepped outside, closing the door gently behind him, "How'd you know where I live?"
"We followed your brother home."
"How-"
"I saw that Steve character, and I went in to tell him about how I still hadn't forgotten him dropping the hymn book, and in a roundabout way, we ended up here...that's all my self respect allows me to tell right now."
"Oh. Well, I'm fine, now."
"It was sort of spur of the moment, coming here," I explained, "I mean, we talked to that guy...that guy who got shot."
"Really? He...he probably wasn't very...polite, was he?"
"No. But he wasn't that rude. I think it was once we said we had talked to you that he thought we might be worth something in his eyes."
"Yeah, not alot of people were worth much to him..." his voice was getting pretty quiet, and I was starting to think that maybe we shouldn't have come to see him so soon after he lost his friends.
"My grampy died last January," I said suddenly, "People kept on coming and seeing me and asking me ifI was okay, even one woman from our church came by and said right to me, 'Naomi, are you worrying about your Grampy's eternal fate?' that surprised me, and I just asked her, 'What?' and she just sat down right close to my face and said, 'Naomi, are you in denial because you think your Grampy went to hell?' Mom heard that and made her leave. Over all, the visits just bugged me. I guess I kinda get it if you don't want to talk about your friends."
Pony was quiet. He nodded. "Yeah, not right yet. But maybe sometime. You talk to anyone about your Grampy yet?"
"Well..." This caught me off guard a little bit, "Sort of. But not one hundred percent. See, he was always the one to inluence me to sing and practice my music, so I've always kinda felt that if I really let him go, I'd stop wanting to sing,you know?"
"I've never wanted to sing, if that's what you mean."
"No, I mean-"
"Yeah, I know. I was just joking. Hey," his eyes suddenly lit up, "How did you like the NeilDiamond record?"
"I actually liked it alot, surprisingly, and I learned how to play a song on my guitar. The chords I'm playing aren't as complexed as the ones that were recorded, but it's considerably good, I think."
"Could you sing some of it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't like singing when it's only in front of a few people."
"I only heard you sing once, though, and the second half of the song I wasn't even paying attention."
"If you want to hear me sing, you'll have to come to the Christmas concert that the church is holding."
"Which church?"
"Same one."
"Oh, no. I'm not goin' back there."
"Too bad, then."
"When is it?"
"December 4th."
"Early for a Christmas concert, isn't it?"
"No, not too much. You'd be surprised how many other things are going on that time of year. It's the best time to have it, before everyone gets all busy."
"Maybe we'll come."
"Who's we?"
"Me and Soda and maybe Darry, probably. I don't know if it'll be safe to bring Steve or Two-Bit."
"Who's Darry?"
"My oldest brother."
"Ah. I see. I don't have any brothers or sisters! We should probably start home, Ash," I glanced at her, and she looked really tired, "But I'll look for you at that concert!"
"And if we aren't there?"
"I'll look for you at the next one!"
December 4th 1967
"Whoever made this dress should be shot,"I muttered to myself, trying desperatelyto pull it down to a decent length so that I wouldn't have to wear tights underit.
"Youlook so sweet." Momgushed, clasping her hands together, "Aren't you going to wear the hair bow, too?"
I wanted to die.
"Mom," I sighed, exasperatedly, "I'm sixteen. CanI just not ?"
"Oh, of course dear," She looked at me as though I wascompletely out of my mind for not wanting to wear a frilly red lace dress and a'sweet' matching hairbow.
"Great. I'll be right out, Mom." I headed towards the bathroom.
"We're leaving in five minutes, Naomi!" Mom called over her shoulder as she walked out to the car.
It wasn't completely unusual for me to go into the bathroom right before my performance, because I had to untangle my hair about seven or eight times before it stayed. But this time, I had other ideas.
I pulled out the tiny pair of sissors that my dad used to trim his moustache. I hooked one sissor blade into a tiny hole near where the hem of mysleeve met the lace, and ripped it downwards. The whole circle of white lace ripped off easily...I guess it was cheaper than I thought.
Like I said, whoever made that dress should've been shot.
I felt a wave of regret, because I knew my mom would be real hacked off for it, but for a split second I made eye contact with myself in the mirror, and my shining yellow eyes seemed to tell me to go on.
About ten minutes later, my dress was lace free.
I had been sent into the choir room for preparation,but the only preparation going on back there was that I suddenly knew what it must be like to a mother. The second I got back there, a volunteer was practically ontop of me, telling me to help this little chorus singer get her hair in a bow and this little boy can't get his tie done and on and on and on...
The show was to start in five minutes.
"What are you still doing here?" Nancy, her name was, hissed, "You have to tell the children their cue-"
"I don't even know my own cue!" I whispered frantically.
"Why would you need a cue? A cue for what?"
"My performance!"
She looked as though I had told her that I had kidnapped the children's chorus and was shipping them off to Texas to work in acircus.
"You're performing?"
"Yes!"
"I thougt you were another volunteer!"
"Would I wear this if my mother thought no one would see me?"
She didn't answer right away, and I knew she agreed.
"What's your name?" She began to leaf through her papers, an expression of sheer panic on her face. Before I had a chance, the reverend called into the microphone,
"Ms. Naomi Sterling, ladies and gentlemen!"
I jumped and looked out into the church.
"Uh...that's me." I did a sort of half-curtsy to her, and walked slowly out into the church and stopped by the microphone. I smiled around at everyone, as usual,and it took menearly a minute to find Pony and Soda. They were accompanied by my 'good friend' Steve.
He saw me look, and picked up a hymn book and pretended to hit the head of the pleasant looking old man in front of him, and pretended to throw it across the room. I think he also saw my eyes widen in sudden fear, because he was laughing with Soda a second later.
I tried to put them out of my mind as I sang 'O Holy Night' which wasn't entirely difficult, because my vocal range went alot higher than that song. Still, I had one of those moments when I kept thinking, what would happen if I didn't hit the high note? I knew it was very well within my comfortable vocal range, but still.
I had to keep my eyes on the front few pews, because I knew if I looked at Steve he'd find some way to distract me, and if I looked at Soda I'd get nervous and shy, as had happened everytime I'd seen him, and if I looked at Pony in some way I'd end up looking at either Soda or Steve.
I did end up hitting that note, without any difficulty, and my pulse started to go down to normal again as I finished the song.
Oh, night, Oh night devine.
I looked around with my long practiced end-performace smile at the applauding audience.
"Honey, that was terrific!"
You'd think that after so long the mother of a performer would learn some new ways to tell you that you did good. But no, not my mother.
"Thanks, Mom." I'd said it so many times that I actually sounded like I meant it.
"Hey, Naomi!"
I spun around to see Pony and Soda about two feet behind me. Luckily for me, Steve wasn't with them.
"Yeah?"
"That was good." Pony smiled, and I grinned thankfully back. What a great kid.
"Do you play the piano, too?" Soda asked suspiciously.
"No, why?"
"Because half the people talked about themselves before they sang, and almost all of them said they could play the piano."
"Oh. Well, no, I can't. I can play the guitar, though."
"Really?" Soda's face lit up, "Like Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix?"
"Uh...Yeeeahh..." I said, even though I had barely ever heard of either of them.
"You don't know who they are, do you?"
"No."
"I guess they're supposed to be the two best guitar players in the world right now."
"Oh. I should know that, shouldn't I?"
He just smiled. God, he looked so cute when he smiled.
"Hey, next time you come to our house, you should bring your guitar!" Pony said.
"Maybe."I smiled, and I felt my Mom's hand on my shoulder.
"C'mon, Naomi, we have to go." She said in a very tight, high pitched voice.
"Yes, come on, Pony," Soda mocked Mom's tone of voice and placed his hand delicately on Ponyboy's shoulder, "We must be on our way too. Tata."
I widened my eyes and shook slightly from supressed laughter. I'd never heard anyone talk to my mom like that.
"I'll see you guys later," I said, not entirely looking forward to the ride home.
