Chapter 11
School started on August 19. Ponyboy had been teaching English for almost 20 years. He wanted to teach high school in his hometown, but when he and Suzanne bought their home, he purposely did not apply at Central, his own district, so that he could be assured of never having his daughters in class. He applied to all the other high schools in Tulsa, and, after spending his first few years at Charles Page in nearby Sand Springs, he landed a job at Will Rogers. It was the school from which he and Darry had graduated, and Shayne and Will went there as well. Pony taught side-by-side with David Syme, his old mentor, and when Mr. Syme had retired at the end of previous year, Pony became the chair of the English Department.
"Will! Hey, wait up!" Shayne called after his cousin. It was first lunch and the boys had lockers on the same hallway. Will slammed his shut and waited until Shayne got rid of his books.
"Got lunch now?" Shayne asked, and when Will nodded, he said, "Walk with you?"
Will was a little startled. The boys got along fine, but they were too different to be friends as well as cousins, and Shayne was more popular than Will could ever hope to be. "Um, sure," he mumbled and Shayne fell into step beside him.
After a moment, Shayne said, "I got Uncle Pony for English."
"I did, too," Will replied. "American Lit."
"I've got a comp class," Shayne said. He grinned sideways at Will. "Do you think we're actually supposed to call him Mr. Curtis?"
"Yeah, in class, I guess. My father already read me the riot act on that." Will said. "I expect he's going to be Uncle Mister Curtis for the first couple of weeks."
A small smile came to his face as he thought about his honors English class. He was looking forward to reading and studying Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451" and he was glad to be doing it with Pony. Most of the time, he was too shy to begin a conversation, even with the uncle he'd loved his whole life.
Shayne glanced sideways at Will. His cousin looked more comfortable in the halls of Rogers High than he did in his own house. He loved school. He loved learning. He loved the idea that he was in a place where he was free to wonder about anything, and most of the time, someone would help him figure out the answer. His mother looked down on his studying and scoffed that he'd end up roofing for Darry anyway. But Will and Darry had a deal: if Will got into college, Darry would find a way to send him. Marie had no idea. Neither of them felt they had to tell her -- Will would be 18 by then, so why fight about it now?
Shayne, on the other hand, liked school okay, but to him, it was just a means to an end. He studied and got decent grades because if he didn't, neither the coach nor his parents would allow him to play football. Coach Bodler had been a first-year assistant coach Darry's senior year and remembered the older Curtis well. Will, bookish and not athletic, cringed when people asked if he were related to Darry, but Shayne puffed up proudly. He alternated between trying to ride Darry's coattails to a scholarship and potentially the NFL and wanting to make his own way.
Shayne pulled open the door of the cafeteria. The boys were immediately assaulted with the clatter of silverware, shouting and laughing and the steamy smell of salty spaghetti sauce.
"Buying?" Will asked, as he went toward the trays. Shayne held up a paper bag. Corinne packed Shay, Liz and Soda a lunch every day. Will, on the other hand, dug through Marie's purse for change.
"Yo! Curtis!"
Will and Shayne both turned. The call came from a table at the far corner of the cafeteria, filled with a couple of football players and cheerleaders – Shayne's friends and teammates.
"So," Will said awkwardly. "I'll see ya, then."
Shayne paused. He often wished he was closer to Will, since they were the only boys in the family. He had heard his father and uncles reminisce about their childhood and, despite the poverty and the dangers of violence, he was jealous. He thought about Maureen, who spent her whole life wondering about something they had right in front of them, and it suddenly seemed wrong not to make more of an effort.
"No, wait," Shayne said. "I'll go through with you. Wanna eat with us?"
The sun was thinking about setting as Soda and Maureen pulled into Crown Hill Cemetery. Maureen had been staying at Soda and Corinne's for the last two days and was leaving to go back to Kissimmee the following morning. When Soda asked her if she wanted to do anything special on her last night, she'd said shyly that she'd like to meet her grandparents.
They got out of the car and walked slowly up a small hill. Soda hadn't been there in a few years, but he could have found the gravesite with his eyes closed. "Here," he said quietly, pointing to a simple rectangular stone.
Darrel S. Curtis, Sr. Diane M. Curtis
1927-1967 1928-1967
DEAR
It had been their anniversary – they'd been married 20 years. (Soda was almost 30 before he realized that his mother was pregnant with Darry when they'd wed.) Diane was in her nicest dress and Darrel was wearing a tie. They had saved for weeks and had made a reservation at a fancy restaurant in Oklahoma City. They'd left early because of the almost two-hour drive, with instructions for dinner and homework and bedtimes. It had been painfully ordinary – Soda remembered ducking under his mother's kiss and she swatted his backside as she hurried after his father. They were late getting back, but Soda merely thought they were having a good time until the Oklahoma State Police rang the doorbell.
Maureen bent to run her fingers over the letters. "'Dear,'" she said. "That's nice."
"We wanted all kinds of stuff on there," Soda remembered softly. "We wanted Mom's maiden name, their birthdays and the day they died, and 'beloved parents' or something like that, but it was all too long. They charged you per letter, and we didn't have the money. Pony came up with that, just 'dear' – because they were dear to each other. And to us, too." He grinned crookedly at Maureen. "And it was cheap. My mama could pinch a penny and make it holler. We thought she'd appreciate that."
Maureen grinned back. "What's the M. for?" she asked.
"Mary," he answered. "Her grandmother."
Maureen stood still for a long moment, then said to the stone, "I'm so sorry I missed you." She bent her head, praying, and when she was done, said, "Do you think, if they had lived, it would have been different?"
"Well, yeah, sure," Soda said immediately. "Everything would have been different. I might have stayed in school, maybe Darry would have gone to college eventually, Pony wouldn't have … Pony would have had someone to really watch after him, I mean, and Johnny and Dallas …" His voice trailed off. So many possibilities had died with his parents that he couldn't contemplate them all without his head spinning. "Shoot. Yeah. It would have been different."
"I meant -- God, this sounds so selfish." Maureen took a deep breath. "I meant … with me."
Soda considered that. Would his father have been as angry as Darry was? Or would he have gone with him to Sandy's father, to help them work out what would happen next? Maybe Darrel would have agreed with Mr. Hinton, that Sodapop and Sandy were not ready to be parents, and agreed with her going to Florida. Or maybe, since they hadn't started sleeping together until after his parents died, maybe they wouldn't have created Maureen at all.
He looked at his daughter, her face so like Liz's, her eyes like her mother's, and even though it had only been two weeks, he couldn't imagine a world without her. "I don't know, darlin'," was all he could answer.
"I have another question."
"Of course you do," he smiled.
"Who're Johnny and Dallas?"
Soda kissed his fingers, pressed them to the top of his parents' stone, and then held out his hand. "Come on. I'll show you. And when we get home, there's something we need to do before you get on that plane tomorrow."
"That box," Maureen said.
"That box," Soda agreed. He'd shown it to Maureen the day before, when he came home from the station with it, but she hadn't wanted to open it.
She squeezed Soda's hand. "That box scares me," she said. "I don't know why."
"Sometimes it's scary to find out," Soda said. "It's scary to have someone finally tell you the answers, I guess. But I'll go through it with you if you want. You know you have to."
"No more secrets," Maureen said faintly.
"Nope, no more." Soda stopped her in front of another stone this one flush into the ground. "Now, let me tell you about Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston."
