3. Help
About three months ago, I'd finally found the kid. Well... I hadn't. Tim's buddy had. I had gone riding around several times, trying to find him when he was in that boy's home, but there were just too many options, and the fences didn't help. Guards looked at you funny if you loitered, and you couldn't just go in and ask for kids by name. If you looked up 'boys home' in the phone book, you got a dozen results, and that was just in our city. Widen your search to surrounding areas and you were looking for a needle in a haystack. A redheaded, fourteen-year-old little needle in a giant, state-sized haystack.
The kid would be proud of that metaphor, I was sure.
I'd gone to Tim right after they'd taken the kid, ready to ask for a favor. I hadn't been able to stand staying in that house…not with Soda crying on Steve and Darry in that recliner, just staring at nothing. Johnny, head in his hands, had been leaning on Two-Bit who'd dropped onto the sofa with him. They'd all acted like the kid was dying! That kid wasn't dying. Not then and not now.
Tim had been way ahead of me somehow; already shaking his head by the time I'd reached his house. "Yeah, I heard they took the kid." He'd been sitting on his porch, smoking a cigarette, his feet propped up on the rail. I didn't bother asking how he found out. "There ain't no way to find 'em unless they put him in a foster home. Those boys' homes are locked up tighter than a jail." And he'd been right. Of course I'd still cruised around, just in case. Then three months after being taken away, he'd been moved to a foster home, something Soda had only found out because the kid had found a way to call him.
I'd known when Soda had been telling Darry about the kid and how he'd sounded on the phone that things weren't good. It had taken a while to find him, even though I had asked Tim to put everyone on it. Tim didn't owe me anything, but he liked Darry and Soda, and Curly and Pony had been...well, not friends but something, and he didn't want the kid getting lost in the system like some other kids he'd known. Besides, Ponyboy wasn't like the rest of us. It drove me nuts sometimes, cause even though he was a good fighter for a scrawny kid, he usually had his head in the clouds, like the day he'd gotten jumped. Well, the first time. Regardless, the kid was tough, but he wasn't street smart and he didn't have it in him to be mean, so if something was going on in whatever hellhole they'd put him in, I couldn't guarantee that he'd tell anyone.
When I'd finally gotten the kid's address, I'd gone the next day to the town several miles west of us, hanging around the school parking lot and ignoring the mildly curious stares until the kid had walked out. At first glance, I hadn't really recognized him. He'd been wearing a long sleeved shirt even though it was warm out, and the way he'd looked at me...like I was gonna rescue him or something. I'd been afraid he was gonna hug me or something, and then I'd have had to shove him off and yell at him, and glory, it didn't look like it would take much to knock the kid off his feet. He'd been too pale, eyes dull and barely focused, but he'd been happy to see me. I'd wanted to get him to eat something, but I knew from experience that he'd be sick if he hadn't been eating in a while. So I just took him to his foster house.
Then that girl had come out, her black eye matching Pony's and I'd known. Of course, I'd known before, but now I really knew. And the way she warned him to get inside...that asshole was beating on the kid, and her too...even though she wasn't my problem, she was still just a kid...a little girl. What kind of person beat on a little girl? I had to know, though, why he wasn't telling anyone. Surely he could talk to a social worker...I'd given him a buck to get himself some food, then I'd left and gotten Tim, explaining the situation. After finding out that Darry and Soda's little brother had been taken away only to find himself in a house where he got beat up on the regular, he'd been all too happy to help find out who this guy was.
The answer to 'who was the asshole beating on Darry and Soda's little brother' was Richard Norton and his wife, Tammy. That had been the easy part. But a few weeks of hanging around the seedier parts of town and we'd found out the important stuff...like the fact that he'd grown up with half of their police force and was buddies with most of the hoods around town too. There were also some rumors that he had been sticking it to, or rather, in, some social worker. I would have bet my whole paycheck that the social worker was Ponyboy's new one, a lady that made it almost impossible for Darry to reach her, and boy had he been trying. She had always been out of the office though, and now I knew what 'out of the office' meant.
I never told his brothers. I didn't know what good it would do. The kid has asked me not to, anyway, so I kept my trap shut, as did Tim, even if I did borrow a car every other week or so and drive around their neighborhood, keeping an eye out. I'd only seen Ponyboy once, standing out on the porch in the early evening, not looking my way. He'd looked even worse than before, with a bruise forming on his cheek, his wrist held close to his chest like it was sprained or something. I figured it probably was. The kid was getting skinnier and skinnier and he wasn't looking too good. I'd hoped that Darry got a court date soon.
And then he had.
I'd planned on going back to his school to give him a ride home and give him the good news as soon as I could borrow a car. I even wanted to take Johnny with me. Johnny was in the dark as much as Darry and Soda, but Ponyboy was his best friend and I knew they missed each other. And then Buck had started beating on my door, telling me Tim had sent some kid to talk to me. It was only four in the morning, and I'd been hoping it wasn't something about the kid being hurt or something when I'd arrived at the door to find Ponyboy himself, his face cut open, his eyes red from crying.
Getting him inside as fast as I could and hoping no one else had seen him, I watched him sit on my bed, that cut on his face bleeding, him shaking from the cold, and I'd grabbed him a jacket. He told me what I already knew. This just confirmed it. The kid was in some deep shit and he needed to get out of town. I agreed with him there. But sending him alone...Darry was gonna kill me.
I knocked on Buck's door, crossing my arms and glaring when he opened it. "I need money. A lot of it. Now." I snapped.
"What? Is this about the kid out…"
I leaned in, glaring and snarling at him as I grabbed his jacket. "There ain't no kid, you hear me? Never was. You say a word to anyone about him and I'll break your neck, savvy?"
He nodded, going pale. He knew I wasn't kidding.
"Good. Now I need money. Whatever you got. You know I'm good for it." It would take a toll on my paycheck, but I'd just hit Two-Bit up for stolen booze and cigarettes until I got another one. "A car too...and a gun."
Buck didn't ask any more questions, coming out of his room a moment later with a paper sack and pushing it into my arms. A second later, he held out his keys. "Twenty-five dollars. The gun's loaded. Fill up my tank on your way back."
"See you around, Buck," I called over my shoulder, grabbing the bag and heading into my room once more. The kid still held the paper loosely in his fingers...he was still crying. I wanted to tell him it would be fine, but how the hell did I know that?
"Let's go, Pony. Pull it together. Now," I ordered sharply, knowing he would listen. He looked up, wiping his eyes and flinching when his hand hit that cut. It was a nasty one, deep and covering the entire side of his face. He'd have a hell of a scar, but where he was going, that probably wouldn't hurt his odds of surviving this. Kid was gonna need to look tough. Still, the shirt I'd given him hadn't done much to stop the bleeding. Grabbing an old first aid kit, I pulled a bottle of whiskey out from under my bed and dumped some on a clean shirt. "This is gonna hurt." I warned him, placing it against his face. He didn't cry out, just clenched his jaw a little and hissed. The last thing I needed was the kid dying from an infection.
He was my problem now.
"Thanks, Dally," he mumbled when I pulled the rag away. It wasn't bleeding as bad, and I went over to my closet, grabbing an old duffel bag while he held the cloth to his face, trying to get his face to stop bleeding.
"I'm guessing you didn't bring any clothes."
He shook his head and I grabbed some jeans and a couple of shirts that would probably fit him. Then I threw in some socks and underwear, swearing the kid was gonna pay me back for this one day. Darry and Soda too. The last thing I grabbed was the gun, ignoring the look he gave me when I dropped it in. Then I stuffed the paper sack inside, pulling out fifteen dollars and shoving a ten over to him.
"I got twenty dollars. Keep ten on you and ten in here for now. Don't lose it, kid, or you're out of luck. It won't last too long, but you look old enough to get a job, and where you're going they won't ask too many questions." That was a stretch but I hoped it was true. I pocketed the five, figuring I'd use it to fill up the gas tank and get him some food on our way. He just stared at me, and I shoved the money into his hand. "Wallet. Put it away, kid. Wake up!" I ordered, and he pulled his old leather wallet out, shoving the money inside.
He wasn't acting right…shaking and staring off into space worse than usual, but I sure couldn't do anything about that.
"Dally, where…"
"Not yet. Come on. Let's get moving. You can't stay here."
He nodded, standing stiffly and following me as we snuck down the stairs, past the half-asleep partiers. Moving quick, I unlocked Buck's old, beat up car, throwing his door open, then climbing in the driver's seat. He was moving slow...according to the cut on his face, he'd been in a fight before he'd gotten here. He was probably covered in bruises…hopefully, he hadn't broken anything. I sure couldn't afford a doctor.
"I got a buddy up in New York. I went to jail for him once, so he owes me. You can stay with him for a while until we get this worked out. He's a jerk, but he won't hurt you." He wouldn't. I would make the consequences of laying a hand on this kid abundantly clear. Hell, I'd send him a snapshot of Darry.
"Dally you guys can't…"
"We're gonna get this worked out, kid," I told him sharply, glancing over at where he sat beside me in the car, and I turned the keys in the ignition, peeling out of the driveway. "We just gotta get you out of the way first." I meant it too. Tim had a big gang, and there had to be one cop in this place that would believe this. Maybe Ponyboy's old social worker. Then there were his brothers. We couldn't let them kill the guy...couldn't risk them going to jail. Not when the kid needed them. Still, that meant I would have to find a way to talk to Darry without letting him know I'd stashed the kid somewhere.
"You shouldn't…"
"Don't you start telling me what to do, ya hear?" Pony just nodded, not meeting my eyes. "That paper's his address and phone if it's still in service. I'm gonna try to call him, but if I can't get him, you just tell him Dallas Winston sent ya, and tell him to call me at Bucks if he doesn't believe you." I glanced over, but the kid was staring straight ahead, eyes wide and vacant. "My phone number's on there too. Kid, you with me?"
"She's buried out behind Jim's Bar. It's less than two miles away from the high school...they dug the hole before they took her there…"
"Kid you gotta stay with me."
"She was thirteen."
I swore, pulling over to the side of the road and grabbed his shoulder. He turned to face me, crying again. He was going to have to cut that shit out.
"Ponyboy, these people don't mess around. I got it. And it's shit some thirteen-year-old girl had to die. But she ain't my problem right now. Right now, I gotta try to keep a fourteen-year-old kid alive. Okay? Work with me!"
He grinned at me then, lips turned up at the corners, but his eyes were still wet. "I turned fifteen in December," He told me quietly, wiping at his eyes. "I wanted to call Soda and Darry...they won't let me use the phone at that place though. He wouldn't either…he caught me the one time I tried…almost broke my wrist."
I remembered him standing on the porch a week or so after I'd found him, holding his arm, and wondered if that had been the day he was talking about…then I wished I'd taken the change and had tried to talk to him that day.
"I was scared to try again. Stupid, huh? I got so scared to cross him…"
"Not stupid, kid. Smart. You were finally using that head of yours," I told him quietly, pulling back onto the road. "We'll all celebrate your birthday when we get you back to your brothers, okay? I'm sure they'll be ready to throw a party anyway."
"How are they?" he asked me quietly. I kept my eyes on the road, making sure to drive the speed limit. Couldn't risk getting pulled over right now.
"They're pretty broken up, kid. Darry's been calling the social workers every day, and Soda's a mess. Johnny too. Hell, even Steve misses you." I didn't tell him that Two-Bit was having a competition with himself, trying to see how much beer he could drink every night, or that Sandy had ditched Soda when she'd gotten pregnant by some other guy. Not right now. Kid had enough to deal with. Hell, so did I.
"Steve?" he asked dubiously.
I snorted. "He's probably just mad Soda's no fun anymore." Pony laughed at that, and I was glad he wasn't crying anymore. Not that I cared...it was just getting annoying.
When we pulled up to the convenience store, I turned to him. "Stay here. Don't want anybody seeing you around here. Just stay in the car. I'm gonna call James."
He nodded, and I hurried into the convenient store, nodding to the tired looking guy behind the register. No need to draw attention. He barely looked at me as I grabbed a sandwich, a couple of candy bars, a loaf of bread, and some baloney. In the back I found some bandages and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, so I grabbed those too. The kid would need them. I paid for it all, not willing to risk the cops getting called on me with him out in the car, then got change for the payphone.
No one answered when I called James's place, but that wasn't unusual. It was only 2 am his time. I'd try again later. At least the phone was still in service. In the car, the kid was slouched low like he was asleep, but he sat up when I got back in, shoving the bag of food at him. "You hungry?" He shook his head and I shrugged. "There's a sandwich in there, and some bread and baloney if you do get hungry. It's a long trip, and you'll need to save your money. There's some stuff for your face too. You gotta blade?"
"Yeah, I brought it."
"Good. The gun in the bag is loaded. Try not to shoot yourself." He snorted at that. "You used to go hunting with your dad right? Darry told me you were the best shot."
He shrugged. "Yeah, but Darry always got the most ducks. Soda and I messed around most of the time." His voice got soft when he mentioned his brothers and I figured he probably never got any ducks because he didn't like shooting them. His chances of making it on his own were looking slim if he couldn't even kill a duck. Then again, he looked different now...tougher. I hoped that was true.
The bus ticket was almost fifteen dollars, and I pulled out two bucks from my own wallet, giving him everything except the last dollar, which I planned on using to fill up the car. In the end, he was left with twelve dollars. I didn't like it. Twelve dollars wouldn't get him too far, and he'd have to find a job fast, especially if James had gotten himself killed or something, which was likely. I'd have to figure out a way to get this guy before the kid ran out of money. That meant telling his brothers. How could I do that without implicating myself in his disappearance? I sure as hell had no idea.
I stayed at the bus station until his bus showed up, sitting beside the kid on a bench and keeping an eye on him. He was exhausted, eyes closing every couple of seconds as his head nodded. I wondered when the last time he had slept was and watched him lean back against the brick wall, eyes half shut. "It's almost a two day trip on the bus," I told him quietly, glaring at a hood that wandered by. The kid nodded, showing me he was following along. "Keep that bag beside you at all times. Against the window, if you can. Pull the blade on anyone that tries to take it, and keep that gun hidden. When you get to the bus station in New York, it's only a mile or two to James's place. I'll call him later today and tell him you're coming...see if I can get him to meet you there. If not…just call me at Buck's and I'll figure something out. His address is on that paper, and so's his phone number and mine."
"Thank you, Dal. Really," he mumbled, looking down at his lap. I looked around, then, rolling my eyes, I put my arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair. He leaned into me, head dropping onto my shoulder. Sighing, I put my head on top of his for a second, glad no one I knew was around. Otherwise, I'd have to throw the kid off.
"We're gonna get you back with your family, kid. Don't you worry," I told him quietly.
"Hey, Dal?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"Can you give something to Soda and Darry?"
I hesitated, sitting up and looking at him.
"Or if you can't just give it to 'em, can you mail it...make it look like I did? There's no return address anyway. Please?"
I sighed, moving my arm and knocking him in the head, making him grin over at me, almost looking like the kid I knew again.
"Sure, kid," I grumbled, knowing I'd figure out how to get whatever it was to them. He handed me two envelopes, each with one of his brother's names, and I pocketed them, not bothering to ask what they were. Whatever it was, I'm sure they'd love it. They missed him so much. The whole house stank of it.
It wasn't long before the bus showed up, and we were crowded by other greasers and a few socy looking guys waiting to get on, and I grabbed his arm, leaning in close. He flinched, but I ignored it. "Call when you get up there. Keep that bag on you..."
He nodded, hands shoved in his pockets, not quite meeting my eyes.
"And kid?"
He glanced up at me, eyes bloodshot but alert. He'd need to put something on that gash on his face if he didn't want it to get infected, but he knew that. He was a smart kid.
"Be careful. I mean it. Call me if you need anything."
"Thanks for this, Dally."
"Go on, kid." I pushed him toward the bus, and he looked back at me once more with a weak grin, shouldering the bag and climbing the steps to the bus.
Man, he looked small.
