The Baptists

By Pinkmoon

A.Ns. Well, first off, this is a heavily Christian story, so if that offends you then you probably don't want to read this. Also I mainly write about extremely conservative Baptists, mostly because I am one and because it's essential to the plot I have in mind. So if anyone has a probably with that then you may not want to read this story either. Otherwise, enjoy.

Second, I want to thank the people at the forum Realism and Accuracy for the help they gave me with the timing, among other things.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me and other fans, I do not own the Outsiders nor am I making money off this story. Be nice if I was though.

Chapter One

The Soul-winner

The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls is wise.

Proverbs 11:30

The sun couldn't be any hotter, I thought as I climbed off of the black-shingled roof. The guy above me kept cursing, screaming at me to go faster. I would of but my back ached and the humid heat seemed to demand that every movement be slow and lethargic.

I eventually reached the parch, dirt ground as the man cussed me out one more time for good measure and headed for my Ford truck. The thing was so old that only a miracle kept it running. I pulled out of what would one day be a grass-covered yard and drove for home.

As I went, I wondered idly if my two brothers would be home yet. If memory severed correct, Ponyboy had gone to see a movie with Two-bit and Sodapop was walking home with Steve. Knowing them, the prospect wasn't likely.

I sighed. I had to work my other job to night and only had a couple of hours before I had to head out. That would give me little time to wind down and relax. So I turned on the radio and found a station playing some Elvis Presley song that was kind of mellowed. I forced my brain to focus on it and soon found my body slowly losing the tension it had gained through out the day.

I rejoiced when I finally saw the broken road that lead to our house. The neighborhood wasn't the nicest place in the city, though no one expected any different since it was in the East Side. The houses and trailers had a worn, frayed look with yards that had more dirt than grass. The people who lived here weren't much different in appearance. Almost everyone had a haggard faced and worn-out body from living in constant worry or constant drunkenness. Which was why I was surprised when I passed two teenaged girls walking down the road and stopped to talk to a woman who was sitting on her porch smoking a cigarette.

The girls weren't dressed like greasers, those of us who live in the East Side. No, their clothing consisted of solid colored, button-down shirts with three-quarter length sleeves and loose, ankle-length skirts. They looked vibrant, alive. Yet they didn't look like soces a.k.a the super rich who dwelt in extravagant homes on the West Side. Something about them was too shoddy. On the other side of the road a few houses down were two more girls, dressed in the same fashion, walking.

They had to be with a church or something I thought as I pulled into the driveway of our modest house and saw Ponyboy with Two-bit and Steve smoking on the front step.

I was surprised to see them. But as I got out of my truck and walked over to them, Steve and Two-bit decided that it would be the perfect time to start showing off their singing talent. They started screaming the "Mickey Mouse" theme song at the top of their longs and breaking up into girlish giggles. Lord, but it was early for them to be getting drunk. Or for Steve to be getting drunk anyways. With Two-bit, it was always a mystery.

"What did you hoods get into now?" I growled at them, my nose assaulted by the smell of alcohol. Yeah, one of them was definitely drunk, probably both if I knew Two-bit. I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered at them. Both knew I didn't like them drinking heavy around Pony. Last thing the kid needed was to get hooked on that stuff, especially if he was going to make it in college.

"Aw, Darry, it ain't nothing but a little ole bit of beer. The kid didn't drink any," Two-bit slurred and slung his arm around Ponyboy. Ponyboy glanced at him and sighed. He then glanced at me with one of those "Please-get-me-out-of-this" begging looks. I wasn't about to disappoint.

"A little bit, huh?" I scoffed. I had to get these two out of here if those girls were going to come into our yard. I mean, how would that look if some kind of church people came into your yard and found two drunks on your front porch?

"Weren't no more than three or four cans, Superman. What are you so worked up about?" Steve asked, leaning back on his hands.

I rolled my eyes and ordered, "Just go in side and sober up or something."

Steve and Two-bit clumsily stood, swore a little at me, and stumbled inside.

I dropped down next to Pony and sighed. He gave me a sideway glance and drew a drag from his cigarette. I ran a hand through my hair and asked, "Isn't it too early for them to be getting drunk?"

"Tim Shepherd showed up at the DX and got Steve started, so Soda tells me and Two-bit...well you know Two-bit," he explained with a shrug.

"Yeah that was a dumb question, wasn't it?" I asked. Ponyboy gave a light chuckle and turned his gaze toward the girls walking down the road.

"I've been watching those girls ever since we got here," he nodded at them, "wondering what their doing on this side of town."

"I was wondering the same thing as I was driving in," I told him as I started to watch the girls on our side of the road.

"They've been stopping at every house, leaving some kind of pamphlet or something. It's weird."

"They may be Mormons or Jehovah Witness or something. I've heard that they go through neighborhoods and leave stuff," I said. A pair of girls was walking up to our neighbor's door.

"Where's Soda?" I asked, as we watched the two. He could handle people a lot better than me or Pony could.

"Inside calling some new girl he met."

"Great." I started feeling pity for those girls. They were, as Sodapop would say, about to converse with Mr. Cold and Unreachable and his kid brother Mr. Shy and Nervous. Soda had started calling us that one night when he and Steve brought some girls over. I had been busy cooking dinner and worrying about bills and Ponyboy daydreaming and reading some new novel he had bought. We therefore said very little that night. This annoyed Soda and hence the nicknames.

I sighed. Why was it people decide to come talk to the Curtis brothers when the talkative one was unavailable?

The two girls left the house and began walking along our chain length fence, sneaking looks at us. I took those few moments to study them.

One of the girls, perhaps the oldest of the two, reminded me of one of my mother's china dolls. She had jet-black hair that curled lightly, the ends brushing her swanlike neck. Her hair contrasted against her snowy complexion. Black eyebrows arched gracefully over dark eyes. Her lips were painted a blood red and her round cheeks were stained a light pink. She was of small stature, about a foot or so shorter than me and as thin as a piece of string.

Her companion was her total opposite. A Grecian goddess, her sun-kissed hair fell straight down her back. Blue sapphires rested beneath thin eyebrows. Bronze skin glowed and shimmered in the sunlight. Her height dwarfed the other girl and her athletic built made the black-haired beauty appear frail and delicate. In fact everything about her made the dark-haired girl appear somewhat homely and fragile.

Now what were two girls that good-looking doing here? I pondered as they entered our yard and gave Ponyboy and me cautious smiles.

"Hello," the dark haired girl said brightly.

"Hello, " I responded, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, leaving my hands to dangle in midair.

"My name is Sarah Wallace," she continued when she reached us, "and this is my friend Rebecca. We're from Lighthouse Baptist Church and we're just visiting around the neighborhood, inviting people to come out and visit us."

"Is that so? We were just wondering what y'all were doing out here," I said just to be saying something. Sarah began to chuckle.

"You've got to be the twentieth person who's told us that."

I smiled lightly at the comment but couldn't think of anything to add. So I waited for her to continue.

"Well, anyways, do you go to a church around here?" she asked.

"No, we haven't gone in a while," I told her. I hadn't been to a church since my parents' death, mostly because of my jobs. Anyway, when they had been alive, I only made the occasional appearance, mostly to appease my mother.

"Oh, we'd love to have you come check us out then. Here, let me give you this," she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. I glance over it to see it was one of those pamphlet type things. Ponyboy was looking over my shoulder and I gave it to him. He began a minute inspection of the slip of folded paper.

"It tells a little bit about our church," Sarah explained when I looked back at her. I nodded and didn't speak. This didn't seem to faze her like it did most girls.

"Can't I ask you one more thing? What are your names?" she grinned a little.

"My name is Darrel Curtis and this is my brother, Ponyboy," I said and waited for a reaction to the unusual name. I got one, just not the one I was expecting.

"Ponyboy, someone was telling me about a Ponyboy the other day. Who was it?" Sarah asked turning to Rebecca.

"I think it was Josiah Simms," she said and I was shocked by the masculine quality of her voice. Deep and low, how could something so manly come from something so feminine, I wondered.

"That's right. He was telling me how you were really smart and had skipped a grade. Do you know him?" Sarah asked Ponyboy who was looking at her like she had grown an extra head.

"Um, yeah. I've spoke to him a few times," Pony mumbled.

"He's in my Sunday School class. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you if you came Sunday," Sarah encouraged.

"I guess," Pony mumbled still and kind of turned to me with one of his desperate looks. I swear I've never seen a kid so nervous around girls. I started to try and think of a way to end the conversation.

"Well, Darrel and Ponyboy, would it be alright if I asked you one more thing before I go?" If the girl wasn't a mind reader, the voice in my head exclaimed.

"Depends on the question I suppose," I teased lightly. Might as well get some fun out of this, right?

Sarah's eyes widened a little and threw a side-glance at Rebecca.

"Well, that's a new one," Sarah mumbled. Rebecca nodded her head and bit her lip.

"Anyways," Sarah continued, immediately brightening, "if something were to happen, do you both know a hundred percent for sure that you'd go to Heaven?"

I think that one floored both Ponyboy and me. I mean, that ain't something you go asking people everyday, in any neighborhood, especially ours.

"Uh...yeah, I guess so," Ponyboy stumbled.

"You guess?" Sarah prodded, her voice going soft and gentle. Pony looked lost for a minute and the silence gave me a second to regain my bearings.

Was I going to Heaven? Did such a place even exist? Mama had thought so. Was she right? And if she were, would she be there now?

"I've gone to church a few times," I heard Pony saying and felt him shift next to me. He started to raise his hand to get a puff of his cancer stick but stopped in mid-air and changed his mind. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with his shoe.

"Well, the Bible says that just going to church doesn't guarantee Heaven. Look, would you mind if I shared a few verses?"

Both of us shook our heads no. Sarah then took another pamphlet thing out of her pocket.

"Well," she began opening the folded paper, "the Bible says in Romans 3:23 that For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. That means we're all sinners. We've all done bad things."

Pony nodded at her. I waited. That was knowledge I already had. Where was the hard part?

"Then, you also need to know that there's a penalty for sin. The Bible says for the wages of sin is death. So basically we all have to die because we've sinned.

"But Jesus loves us so much that He died on the cross as a sacrifice in order to pay that penalty for us. The Bible says that "God commendth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

"The Bible then says that Heaven is a free gift from Jesus, But the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. So in other words, going to Heaven is a free gift that you can't work for, or go to church for, or be good for.

"Lets say that this track is ...um...50 dollars," she held up the pamphlet thing.

"Okay," I mumble. She held it out and proceeded.

"And lets say I was going to give it to you as a gift. So what would you have to do to get it?"

Pony and I kind of stared at her and glanced at each other. I had no idea what she meant by that. Ponyboy shrugged at her and she smiled gently at his confusion as if she expected it.

"You simply take it. That's kind of how Heaven is. God's holding it out to you, just waiting for you to take it."

Ponyboy kind of nodded at her. I continued to stare into space thinking. Was it really so simple? Sarah had said that you didn't need to "work" to get into Heaven. Was that true? Didn't you have to make up for all the bad things you've done?

Or were we so wicked, we'd never be able to do enough good? What if Jesus' death was the only way? And wouldn't trying to earn Heaven on your own defeat the purpose of Jesus' death?

"Can we pray?" Sarah asked, pulling me from my whirlwind of thoughts. Pony side-glanced at me and I nodded. His eyes refocused on Sarah. "Sure."

Sarah and Rebecca both bowed their heads. Pony and I followed suite as Sarah began.

"Dear Lord, thank you for bringing Rebecca and me by to talk to Ponyboy and Darrel. Lord we've been talking about you. Now Darrel, Ponyboy, with your heads bowed and eyes closed, if you want to ask Jesus into your hearts repeat after me, Dear Jesus."

I heard Pony whisper the words I said in my head.

"Forgive me of my sin. Today I trust you, Jesus, and only you to take me to Heaven when I die. Thank you for saving me. Amen."

When Pony uttered the last word we all looked up and stared at each other awkwardly.

"Well, do y'all think you'll want to come to church Sunday," Rebecca's masculine voice broke the awkwardness. "Ponyboy can. I may have to work so..." I trailed off when I saw Pony's face

Ponyboy's eyes suddenly found my face. Big, round, wide eyes that were begging. My one weakness and he knew it.' Fight it' my brain commanded. 'Do you really want to disappoint him?' my heart responded. I fought a moment longer and then sighed.

"I'll see if I can't get Sunday off," I surrendered. Ponyboy's face immediately brightened and gave me the biggest grin I'd ever seen, and returned to the two girls.

"Okay great. Um, if you can't get off and Pony needs a ride or something, the number for the church is on the back of that track I gave you," Sarah handed it back to me, "If you don't get someone, then you can call me and I'll set up a ride."

She gave us her number and with a "Hope to see you Sunday" she and her friend left and continued to walk down the road.

Pony and I remained on the porch a while longer. He looked up at the sky, probably finding shapes in the clouds.

"Darry?" he asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" I turned and looked him over, as he seemed to struggle with his words. Light brown, reddish in this light, colored the top of his head with the ends a snow white. His haircut was still weird looking and I made a mental note to see if I could get him a hair appointment or something.

"Did you pray that prayer?" he finally asked. Silence for moment and then my voice forming the words, "Yeah, I did."

He nodded and went quiet again. The silence and sitting seemed unproductive to me when there was always something to do around the house, so I began to wonder what there was to do.

'If Pony and I go to church Sunday, we'll need a Bible...' the thought seemed to come from nowhere. I debated with myself, something I was always doing besides worrying.

'There's not much I can do about that. Bibles are kind of expensive, or the nice ones anyways. It's not like we have one either. I don't think...' I actually thought about it some and remembered that Momma had one that her mother had given her.

I must have put it up in the attic with all of my parents things when they—

I ended the thought as the all too familiar pain and emptiness seared through my nerve endings. I don't think I ever really got over my parents' death. I don't think any of us did.

"Pony," I began but paused at how gruff my voice sounded. He gave me a concerned look. I swallowed.

"If you're going to go to that church, then you'll probably need a Bible. And I think I know where Momma's is."

I stared out into the street, avoiding his eyes. Our parents were still a touchy subject and we almost never mentioned them, much less the things they had once owned. Ponyboy didn't say anything, didn't move, remained a statue. A statue with living eyes that I could feel burned through my skin, trying to figure me out.

"Where?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Attic, possibly."

"That would take a while."

"Yeah," I mumbled. I still didn't look at him and he still remained motionless.

"Then I guess we better get started." My head snapped around. A small grin played upon his lips waiting for my mouth to mimic it. My lips were quick to comply.

"Yeah, I guess we better." And with that Ponyboy and I entered the war-zone formally known as the Curtis' house.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if someone seems out of character. This is my first Outsiders story so I'm still feeling my way through it. Please review, constructive criticism welcomed. And I would love to have a beta reader for this story so if anyone is willing, tell me so.

Pinkmoon