9. Sanctuary

Somehow, my life had fallen into some sort of joke of a routine. When I'd been living at home with Darry and Sodapop, it had been go to school, do homework, hang out with the guys. First one up makes breakfast, the other two clean up. Go to the movies sometimes on the weekends, but ask Darry first. Watch out for socs, both at school at outside of it. Run track after school and hang out with those guys sometimes. Play cards with Johnny. Go to the races with Sodapop when Steve didn't throw a fit about it. Rumble every once in a while, but usually things were pretty quiet. Toward the end, it had been a lot of trying to avoid being around Darry too, but looking back, he had never been too bad. I mean, sure he'd gotten on me a lot, but at least he'd cared about me. At the time, I'd thought he hated me. I'd been sure of it.

But now I knew what someone hating me looked like.

At the boy's home, my life had changed abruptly into a more structured hell. Wake up at six-thirty. Breakfast. School was held in the building next door, then lunch, more school, and then some time outside in a yard surrounded by a giant fence topped with barbed wire. Not that I'd ever thought to try and climb out. I was determined not to get into any kind of trouble and risk getting back to my brothers, so when a couple of older guys had tried pushing me around, I'd backed down immediately. Thankfully I didn't have anything for them to steal, so they'd left me alone. After the outside free time, it was back to our rooms, which I'd shared with three other guys. Two bunk beds and two desks were crammed in the little room, and we all would theoretically take turns with the desks. I never bothered using it, just doing my homework in my top bunk.

The guy on the bottom bunk was about my age, and I don't think I ever heard him say a word. He had a group of friends I didn't try to join, and was rarely in the room, since he snuck out all the time. In the other bed were two younger guys, one about eleven, the other thirteen. They were chatty and friendly enough, and although we rarely had any kind of conversation, I was just grateful they weren't the kind of guys to beat on people like some of the other guys at the boy's home. Plus I could have taken them if it came to it. And they didn't complain or nothing when I woke up screaming almost every night, just sighing in the dark and rolling over in their beds. The guy under me would just kick my bed, and I'd jerk awake, mumbling an apology they all ignored.

I'd been able to call Sodapop twice when I'd been in that place, both times during a break between classes when I was supposed to be at my locker or making my way to algebra. Once had been a few weeks in, the next right after they'd told me I was being moved. I'd snuck into the common room where the kids who were allowed to call home made their calls. In the morning, the room was usually empty, and I'd snuck in. I'd tried to sneak into the room at lunch too, hoping to call Soda again, but the guards were always walking around during lunch. It wasn't like I'd had any kind of appetite when I was there...I regretted that when I moved into Richard's house. I should have stocked up when I had the chance.

Anyway, I'd spent lunch in the library, doing homework and avoiding anyone who'd try and talk to me. During our breaks, I'd run on the track, which became harder and harder when I didn't eat anything for lunch, and I knew the teachers were getting concerned. Then I'd been called into the office to be told that I was going to a foster home.

Now, in New York, I had a whole new routine. Wake up when James came stomping out of his bedroom, or into his bedroom...or when someone pounded on the door, wanting him for some reason or another. If none of that happened, I'd wake when the sun came in through the curtains that barely managed to keep the light out. I'd go into the kitchen and eat some of my dwindling supply of cereal, or make eggs. Surprisingly, James wasn't eating any of the food I'd bought. Come to think of it...I never actually saw him eat. Heck, I didn't really see him around period. After I ate, I'd walk around the city, keeping my head down and trying to entertain myself as I mapped the place out. It rarely worked, but I was getting exercise, I guess. Eventually, I'd go back to James's place and fix dinner, then go to bed early. He didn't have a TV, or any books. Before bed, I'd take a shower and clean the cut on my face which was scabbing over, but still looked awful. Thankfully the one on my side wasn't too deep, and it still hurt like hell most of the time, so I tried to keep alcohol on it when I remembered.

On Saturday, I couldn't take it anymore and went into the filling station closest to the apartment, hanging around the counter until the guy came out of the store room, nodding to me. "Hey. What can I do for ya?" he asked, adjusting the cap on his head. He had grease on his hands and it brought back memories of my brother, how he'd be covered in the stuff whenever I'd stop by the station during lunch or on my way home from school. The pain hit me in my chest for a second before I shook it off. I couldn't fall apart in front of some stranger. It was better not to think about Soda...glory I missed him so much.

"Hey...um...can you tell me where the library is?" I fought the urge to elaborate...to make up some story about how I had a project or how I'd just moved here. Less was more. Hadn't I learned that yet?"

"Closest one is…" He thought for a second. "About three miles from here...maybe four. It's pretty small, though. You know where Union is?"

I didn't really, but I knew if I kept walking on Tory I'd get there, thanks to the other gas station guy. "Yeah."

"Okay, turn right on Union and you'll hit it eventually."

"Thanks, man."

He nodded, giving a half wave when I turned to go. I followed his directions, walking on Union for what felt like forever in the boiling sun until I finally reached a brick building with a rounded front, a flag flying high on a pole in the grass out front. The sign out front welcomed me to the New York Public Library. It was about the size of the library in Tulsa, only it was one story instead of two. I didn't care, though. It was a library, so it was good enough for me.

I walked through the front doors, sighing in relief at the cool air. It was hot out, and my newly blond hair was sweaty on my neck. I didn't grease it since I didn't have hair grease and hadn't bothered buying any. Instead, I let it hang however it wanted, the peroxide yellow a shock every time I looked in the mirror. It made me look even younger, and I still looked scared all the time, so all in all it wasn't a great image, but at least I looked different. The first time James had seen it, he'd just lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged, heading out the door without a word, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and going...well, wherever he disappeared to all the time.

The librarian, an old lady with glasses and her hair tight in a bun, smiled at me as I entered, her eyes wary, but the smile friendly enough. "Good morning," she greeted me, almost suspicious but not quite. It was a Saturday, so there were a couple of people my age around, and thankfully it was summer vacation, so I could come by anytime I wanted. If I was here after school got back in though, I'd have to wait until two or three to come over. In the children's area, a few toddlers sat with their mom's or grandma's, all reading books together.

"Good morning," I greeted, smiling a little and losing the battle to look her in the eye. The asshole had broken me of that the first week. If you look down, you're less likely to be noticed.

"Can I help you find anything?"

"No thanks." I pushed my hair back, nodding and heading toward the adult section. I missed books...and drawing. And TV, come to think of it, but books most of all. I wished I could have brought a book with me, but I'd left them all at home...my real home. And I couldn't check them out without a library card. Still, I could spend all day reading on some days at least, so I found a book by some guy named JRR Tolkien that I hadn't read before and sat down in a chair in the back, opening the first page and remaining there until my stomach started growling, my head spinning a little when I ignored it for too long. Eating had become more of necessary nuisance at that point, but I knew I had to do it sometimes. I sighed, making note of what page I was on, then put the book back on the shelf, hoping no one checked it out that week.

"Young man, you know you can check out the books here and take them home to read."

I jumped a little when the old lady appeared beside me, then smiled ruefully. "I, uh...just moved here. I don't have a library card."

She squinted at me. "How old are you?" she wanted to know. I froze, feeling my face get pale. I didn't need people asking questions about me…didn't need anyone around here to remember me.

"Seventeen," I told her, going with Soda's age.

"If you can get your parent to bring you, we can get you a library card."

I shook my head, panicked for real then. "I...um...can't. I...they don't live here. I'm...with a foster family. They won't…" I shook my head again, shoving my hands in my pockets, and she clucked softly under her breath. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice our conversation. At least I wouldn't match a description of myself now.

"Alright. Well, you're welcome to come in and read anytime," she told me quietly, the smile a little gentler this time. I thanked her, hurrying off and wondering if it was worth the risk to return in a few days. By the time I reached the apartment, I'd decided that it was. I'd go insane without at least being able to read a few times a week. Besides, I was dying to know how that book ended.

On Sunday, I woke early to the sound of church bells and, on impulse, jumped off the sofa, cleaned up as best I could in front of the bathroom mirror and walked out the door. I hadn't been to church in ages...not since Two-Bit had embarrassed me out of going to the one in Tulsa. But no one around here knew me, Two-Bit wasn't around to drop any hymnals, and besides, I had nothing better to do on a Sunday since the library was closed. If I had to sit around that apartment all day I'd go crazy.

I walked in the direction of the bus station, sure I'd seen a church on my way, and sure enough, I found a baptist church down the road tucked into a street corner, the steeple rising up in the sky like a pointing finger. Figuring one church was as good as the next, I slipped inside.

I quickly realized my mistake when I stepped into the sanctuary. Every single person in the church had dark skin. There wasn't a white face in the crowd, and I wondered if this was how the handful of black kids at my old school had felt when they'd stepped into a classroom. Several members of the congregation turned to stare at me with raised eyebrows, others with amused or even angry looks and any hope I had of blending in went out the windows. The soft chatter dulled to whispers as they elbowed each other, gesturing back to the back of the sanctuary where I stood alone.

I felt my face turn bright red as I froze in place, wishing I'd taken a look around before entering. The women all wore long gloves, and most of them were fanning themselves with paper fans tucked into the seats. All the ladies were in nice dresses and hats, and the men all wore suits, down to the teenagers. Even the youngest kids were dressed real nice, all gawking at me like I was a circus animal or something. One little boy whispered something to his mom, and she shushed him, turning around quickly and pulling him with her.

An usher hesitated when I did, meeting my eyes. He was an older guy with snow white hair in tufts on the side of his head, and after a moment, he handed me a bulletin that I took with red ears and an apologetic smile, mumbling a 'thanks.' I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to be there, but everyone had already seen me enter, including the pastor who stood at the front of the little room, apparently about to start his sermon, and I was too embarrassed to turn and run, so I slipped into the back pew, right up against the corner by myself, and the pastor chose that moment to start speaking.

Thankfully, everyone turned back around in their pews then...all but one girl who met my eyes. I recognized her then as the girl I'd seen in the alley my first day. She had one eyebrow raised just like Two-Bit, the corner of her mouth turned down in an almost angry look, and I gave her a hesitant smile. Snorting, she turned around in her pew, shaking her head at the man sitting beside her.

I stared at the floor while the pastor talked, but I quickly remembered why I'd liked going to church so much. The people here were more vocal than they had been at the one my mom had taken us to when we were kids, but despite the occasional loud 'amen' or 'glory' thrown out there, the message was the same. I'd never really sat down to read the Bible except in Sunday school when Mom had taken us, and I just knew the basic stories, but it was real nice to sit in a church and listen to someone talk about God and life and how people ought to be good to each other. It was a nice thought, and I'd always believed in God, even if I didn't know much about praying or church or religion. So for almost two hours, I stared at the floor and tried to learn something.

When it seemed like they were saying the last prayer, I slipped out, closing the door as quietly as possible so no one would hear me leave, and hurried down the sidewalk, back toward the apartment. "Hey! Wait a second!"

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder and finding the girl from church and from the alley hurrying after me in her pink dress and white gloves. Her hair was done up in braids and I thought she looked awful pretty, but I couldn't exactly say that to a strange girl. She'd think I was creepy or worse. "What was that about?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"What was what about?" I asked hesitantly, looking around for witnesses and finding none. It seemed even New York was quieter on Sundays and the occasional person walking by on the sidewalk paid us no mind.

"Don't play dumb. Why'd you come to our church?"

"Just felt like it," I answered with a shrug.

"What, ain't enough white churches around for ya?" I flinched at the accusation. "What are you playing at? 'Cause if you're trying to start trouble…"

"I ain't trying to start anything!" I snapped, crossing my arms and fighting to keep eye contact. I'd never had trouble with that before the asshole. Glory but I hated that man. It probably wasn't good to think that kind of thing on Sunday after church, but I did. "I just moved here and I wanted to go to church."

"You?" she asked dubiously, looking me up and down, and my ears got real hot. I knew I looked bad and that my clothes weren't nice. She sure didn't have to point it out. My eyes burned and I cursed myself for being such a baby. So what if they didn't want me there. I was used to people not wanting me places. I was a greaser, right?

"Sorry I ain't good enough for your lousy church. I'll find a new one next week!" I snapped, turning to storm off and flinching when she caught my arm.

"Hey! Wait." She seemed softer all of a sudden, glancing around just like I had earlier and seeming relieved when no one was around. "I didn't mean...look, sometimes the boys around here like to come to our church and start trouble. They're nasty...they spray paint the walls or set off cherry bombs during service. We call the cops but they don't much care." Her hand remained on my arm for a minute until I stared down at it and she let go. "I was scared you were gonna try something like that."

"I just wanted to go to church," I told her softly. "My mom used to take me." I shouldn't have told her that. It was better not to let anyone know anything real about me, but I was getting real tired of being alone. She nodded, looking like she wanted to touch my arm again, but not moving to do it.

"Mine too, before she died. It's just me and my dad now." I nodded but didn't say anything. I'd already said too much. "I"m Sue, by the way."

I thought of Two-Bit's little sister and smiled a little, doing my best to meet her eyes. "Mike," I told her, almost used to it by now.

"I didn't thank you before...for helping me out."

I shrugged, not bothering to ask how she'd recognized me with blond hair.

"It's the eyes," she told me anyway, somehow seeing the question on my face and pointed to her own eyes…when I managed to meet them for a second, I realized they were a soft brown with golden flakes and then immediately tore my eyes away, feeling dumb for staring at her like that.

"Don't mention it."

"Alright. You can come back to church next week if you want. We have dinner sometimes after the service if you're hungry."

"Thanks."

She nodded, smiling a little again. "See you around Mike." She waved, walking backward for a minute before turning away, back toward the church, reminding me of Two-Bit. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up as I shoved my hands in my pockets. It felt weird to smile like that again…weird, but good.

"See ya," I called, turning and making my way back to the apartment.

James was eating lunch when I got back and just stared at me for a minute. I stared too...it was the first time I'd seen him eat. He took another bite of the sandwich, swallowing and learning back in his chair.

"What, you go to church?" he asked, snorting a little like he was making a joke. I just nodded and he shook his head, rolling his eyes, mumbling 'weird kid' under his breath. But as I put together a sandwich of my own, I felt his gaze following me. I avoided meeting his eyes, staring down at my food, then carrying it, head down, into the living room and sitting on the couch. He followed me after a second, sandwich in hand. " You seriously go to church?"

"Yeah." I hated that I felt like I'd done something wrong. My ears were still hot and I hoped he didn't notice.

"Where'd Dallas find you anyway, kid?" I hesitated, glancing up at him through my hair, head down as I nibbled at my food. "C'mon, who am I gonna tell?"

"Oklahoma," I told him quietly. He knew my name anyway. Not like there were a lot of 'Ponyboy's' around.

"Shit. That's a hell of a walk. You hitch a ride?"

"Nope. Took the bus."

He nodded, crossing his arms, sandwich hanging limply at his side. "So you're a friend of Dal's…"

I hummed in agreement, not sure where this conversation was going, but feeling like I should add something if he was taking the time to talk to me. "Yeah, my big brothers mostly...but me too."

"Your big brothers do that to ya?" he asked, gesturing to my face.

I shook my head, fighting the urge to get defensive. It was a valid question, considering how I'd just shown up on his porch. "No. Other guys. A couple of guys."

He regarded me critically for a minute, looking me up and down. "No one around here's gonna mess with ya, so don't worry about that. And if they do, you tell me, ya hear?"

My mouth dropped open a little and I turned to stare at him head on. Glory, how long had it been since someone had offered to look out for me? "Yeah…thanks," I told him after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Don't mention it, kid. Dallas told me that your brother would come up here himself if anything happened to you, and I ain't itching to die anytime soon."

I laughed a little at the smile in his voice. He hadn't been friendly with me before and it was like a weight off my chest to have someone to talk to, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"He ain't so bad," I told him, dropping my eyes again.

"Dally said he was big?"

I glanced up and he was grinning. I grinned too, and let myself think about Darry for the first time in a long time. He was tall...a lot taller than me. He had biceps as big around as my head. Sometimes before a rumble or just walking down the street, he'd crouch down and I'd jump on his back. He'd carry me down the street, my arms around his neck, his hands on my legs holding me up. He'd wake me up by tickling me. He made me breakfast almost every morning. He checked over my homework to make sure I was doing okay. He never let anyone hurt me, and when one of the guys would get too rough when we'd wrestle or something, he'd always pull them off.

I nodded, hating how my eyes were heating up. "Yeah. He's real big."

"What do they do? Your brothers?"

"Darry, the big one...he roofs houses and works at a warehouse sometimes. My other brother works at a filling station."

He hummed. I wanted to ask him what he did for a living, but I didn't want to push it. He was being almost friendly, and it had been a while since anyone had been real friendly...since I'd had an actual conversation with anyone besides Dally and maybe that girl, Sue. I thought again about calling Dally, but I didn't want to bug him, calling all the time. I wanted to talk to Darry and Soda, but I didn't know what was going on down there. Maybe they didn't know that Dally had helped me and I didn't want to be the one to tell them.

There was a short knock on the door, more like someone beating their fist against the door once then shoving it open. I sat back against the sofa, waiting, and the same guy from before barged in, sparing me a glance before turning to James and jabbing a thumb in my direction. "He still here?"

"Apparently. What do you want?" James snapped, taking another bite of his sandwich. He wasn't mad though…he really did remind me of Dal, and it was a comforting thought. Before, I'd been awful scared of Dally. Now I knew I'd probably be dead without him.

"We gotta talk. There's some…" He glanced at me, glaring. "Beat it, kid." I started to stand, but James pushed me back down on the sofa as he stood up.

"I gotta be somewhere anyway. C'mon. We'll head to T's."

The guy nodded, glancing at me one more time and following James out the door.

"See ya, kid," James called, slamming the door behind him, and I guessed that was progress. Finishing my sandwich I lay down on the sofa even though it was only about noon. There wasn't much to do though, and I didn't feel like taking a walk around the city, so I closed my eyes, wondering if it would be okay to buy a notebook or something. At least then I could draw. The thought stayed with me as I stared at the ceiling until I couldn't stand it anymore, jumping up and shoving some loose change into my pocket.