Chapter 15: Salaam-Namaste

Darry woke up with a start, as though somebody had yelled in his ear. Looking out his window, he could see the gray light of dawn.

Surprisingly, he felt wide awake, even though he had spent another sleepless night trying in vain to figure out his Calculus homework. He had been even more distracted than usual in that class.

It was only Calculus. In every other class, he was more focused than ever, taking solid notes and concentrating solely on whatever subject he was in. Work became his outlet, his escape from the real world.

The real world was where Lucky was in jail. The real world was where Lucky could be given death penalty. The real world was where he no longer had a roommate to talk to and joke around with, where A.J. was constantly on the verge of tears that she blinked back, fighting the urge to cry.

Buried in his books and schoolwork, Darry felt safe. For a precious few moments he could live peacefully, instead of in constant terror and trepidation. He could breathe freely again, if only for a short while.

But not in Calculus. That stupid engagement ring was once more mocking him, larger than life to Darry, sparkling wickedly as it hit the light. Darry wished he could wrench it off her finger and smash it to pieces.

It's a good thing I don't know who she's getting married to, Darry mused during one of her classes, watching absently as Ms. Hart wrote equations on the chalkboard, wincing as the chalk squeaked against the slate, not hearing a single word she said. I'd kill the guy.

000000000

A.J. slouched in her seat, half-heartedly listening to what Ms. Hart was saying. Glancing down the rows, she could see Darry. He was doodling absently, although A.J. couldn't see what he was drawing.

A.J. put down her pen and stopped paying attention completely. Her thoughts turned, as usual, to Lucky. She thought about him ninety-nine percent of the time anyway, even before he was jailed.

But now her thoughts were more frantic and anxious, a tight ball that seemed content in the pit of her stomach, rather than exasperated or romantic. Those were the thoughts that floated to the top of her head like clouds, which now seemed to have dispersed.

He's been in jail for three months now! She thought angrily. Haven't they set a trial date yet?

Lucky had indeed been in jail for three months. He had had his preliminary trial, but his trial date had yet to be set. A.J. didn't know what his bail was, but Lucky's father had refused to pay it.

Heartless—! A.J. had thought, enraged, adding a few colorful nouns after the adjective "heartless." That S.O.B.!

A.J. hadn't met Lucky's parents, but he had talked about them before.

Flashback: "Mom," A.J. groaned irritably. Her parents had insisted on dropping her off at U of C after Winter Break.

"Beta, we're going to miss you very much," her mother said in her thickly accented English, smoothing back A.J.'s hair. "But for the love of Ram, get rid of these dirty-shirty second-hand ripped up jeans! People will be talking, saying we are not clothing out daughter properly!"

"Goodbye, beta," her father interjected. "Please be minding your studies and stay away from American boys and other unhealthy habits."

"Okay, okay," A.J. said impatiently. Her face was warm, even though her skin was too dark to show the blush.

When they zoomed away at long last, A.J. sighed in relief and turned to see Lucky giving her an envious look.

"A.J., you've got it made," he said after a long pause. "You freak me out, you know that? You're like, perfect."

"I am not perfect!" A.J. exclaimed, indignant for some reason. Lucky rolled his eyes, putting on his shades.

"Oh, spare me. Straight A's, ace artist, street smarts and two parents who adore you? That sounds pretty perfect to me."

"Like you haven't got street smarts too," A.J. shot back. "And you could do anything you wanted if you bothered."

Lucky shrugged. "You've still got great parents."

"And you don't?" A.J. asked, her brain screaming at her, shutupshutupshutup! Lucky gave her a long, hard look, but softened, shoulders sagging.

"My mom's cool and all," Lucky said quietly, which shocked A.J. Normally he was loud and annoying energetic, seeming to radiate adrenaline wherever he went. "But she's weak. Always gives in to my old man. And he's one cold dude. Couldn't care less if I got shot up in the streets and was left to die."

A.J. couldn't believe it. "But…if he doesn't care, why does he keep you in college?" she asked in a small voice. She held her breath, hoping Lucky wouldn't think she was prying. But as he talked on, he seemed to get more relaxed, as though he had kept this bottled up inside of him forever and was finally letting it out.

"That's my mom persuading him. She hopes I'll make something outta myself. Fat chance," he added, smirking humorlessly.

They sat together in silence for a long while after that, both of their meanings made perfectly clear without words cluttering up the air.

End Flashback.

After class, A.J. was walking to her next class, tuning out the world outside her mind. That explained why she didn't hear Pepsi screaming her name and running after her at top speed, finally jumping on her back to get her attention.

A.J. felt a jolt from behind and fell over. Someone was on top of her, yelling something unintelligible while all around her people laughed.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed, shoving Pepsi off and standing up. Pepsi grinned sheepishly, straightening his glasses, which had fallen askew.

"Sorry, A.J. But have you seen the paper?" he brandished it in her face. She snatched it out of his hands and stared at it.

" 'Car Accident On Grant Kills Two?' " She read the headline aloud. "Pepsi, what—?"

"Not that!" Pepsi exploded impatiently. He grabbed the paper back and opened the newspaper to a short article almost hidden amongst the others.

A.J.'s eyes widened as she read the article. "Lucky's trial date's been set for next week?" she screeched, attracting the attention of many people in the halls.

"Yeah. It's the same as the other guys, too," Pepsi said grimly. "Who's his lawyer?" A.J. wanted to know.

"Some lady named, um…" Pepsi wracked his brain, trying to remember. "Kathy. Kathy O'Malley."

"His parents hired her?" A.J. asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Nope. She's the government lawyer. Lucky's old man is, like, unofficially disowning him or something," Pepsi said, disgusted. A.J. rolled her eyes and said nothing.

The bell rang. "Oops!" A.J. groaned, taking off. "I'll see you later!" she yelled over her shoulder to Pepsi, waving and trying not to trip.

000000000

Late the night, Darry sat down to do something he hadn't done for a while. He tore a sheet of paper out of his notebook and began writing a letter home.

000000000

Dear Sodapop and Ponyboy,

Lucky's trial date has been set, finally. I saw it today in the paper.

School's fine and everything, except Calculus of course. Did you know Ms. Hart got engaged? If I ever find the guy, I'll wring his neck.

I wonder how Lucky's doing. He's been in jail for three months now. When he gets out, will he have gone hard and cold like Dally? Or will he be distant, or will he have broken completely? What if he's like Johnny, and comes out scared of his own shadow?

On a different note, how are you guys doing? Pony, have you written anything lately? How're Steve and Evie and their kids, Hannah and Mark?

I heard Two-Bit's coming to Tulsa. Too bad I won't be able to come. It's finals week when he's there. Oh well, maybe next time.

There's nothing really more to say, so adios, I guess, and Aawjo. That's Indian (well, some regional language of India, I forget which) for goodbye. A.J. taught me some. Namaste means hello, but it's Salaam in Pakistan, beta means whatever what you would call a little kid, like sweetie or something.

I'll tell you more if I ever remember it all. A.J.'s so mean, she keeps laughing at my pronunciation. I told her, at least I don't speak English with a faint Indian accent, which she does. That shut her up.

I'll write more later. Love, your favorite brother, Darry

000000000

He sighed to himself later as he slid the letter into the college mailbox. He had been overly cheerful, he knew, but he didn't want to worry his brothers too much.

Pony, always with the overactive imagination, would probably think he was depressed and would take a shower with a toaster or something. Soda would just worry and try and think of some way to cheer him up.

In any case, he was in the habit of not telling his brothers about his problems. He figured they already had enough of their own.

000000000

Soda woke up early Saturday morning and walked out to the mailbox barefoot. He slammed the door coming back in, hollering, "Mail call!"

"What's up?" Ponyboy asked, stumbling downstairs sleepily. Soda flipped through all the letters, tossing them over his shoulder as he read their sender's names aloud.

"Bill, bill, junk, bill, bill, more bills…" he muttered in disgust. "Soda, watch where you're throwing those things!" Ponyboy yelped, catching a bill inches above the coffee pot.

Soda ignored him, shouting with glee, "Glory, it's a letter from Darry!"

Pony tossed the bill aside, all other thoughts forgotten. The two of them ripped the envelope to shreds, nearly tearing the letter itself in half.

Envelope remains fluttered to the floor like papery snow as Ponyboy and Sodapop leaned in together to read the letter.

000000000

Ta da, that's the end of this chapter. I'm too lazy to write more. And yes, I do know that Gujarati is the "regional language" to which Darry refers, but no one ever remembers it so neither does Darry. And I know Salaam-Namaste is the name of a Hindi film. I did that on purpose.

Please review with comments, questions and concerns you might have. Ideas as to how I should continue/end the story are welcome. Even insane ideas like, "Darry dies in a freak toaster accident" or something.