Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.
I couldn't resist introducing the rest of Ponyboy/Mike's kids from my other fic, Making God Laugh.
~ Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material. ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
Rachel, Joe's mom, insists on having a pool party at her house for his graduation. But it's not the fun kind of pool party where there's games and stuff. It's more like the type that's just an excuse for the women to wear swimsuits while the men leer at them. I opt to stay in my jeans and t-shirt and pretend to admire the place. The house is bigger than ours, so it seems Rachel's done alright for herself. She knows how to marry well, if the pool is any indication.
Joe has just graduated with a masters in something or other. Someone told me what his degree was in, but I don't remember. I must've forgot in all the fun we're so not having as we celebrate, because it feels more like we're being shown up than included.
"Why did Rachel invite us?" I whine to Courtney, my older half-sister, as I plop onto the pool chair next to her.
Courtney sighs as she readjusts her sunbathing position. "She likes sending Dad a message."
"What message?"
"That Joe is the only one of his kids worth loving, but Joe will never love him, because Joe's never looked up from sucking on his momma's tit."
I blush at the coarseness of her words, and Courtney smiles enigmatically. "Sometimes I forget you're still a child, Meg."
"I'm eleven," I snort, like that's gonna make me sound more mature.
"And losing your pudginess every day," she assures me, cruel smirk in place, and I despise her again.
I try to keep a blank face, but I know I look as hurt as I feel. I flip her off, but it only makes her laugh, frustrating me further. I shouldn't have let my guard down.
We only stand together against Joe, and that's where our tentative alliance ends. The rest of the time, she's just a bitch, and I need to stop hoping she'll wanna be a real big sister to me. Like Dad always says, life isn't a movie.
"Can I have a soda?" asks five-year-old Emma, the newest addition to our messed up family.
Dad's fling with Emma's mom was his way of coping with losing my mom, and I'm not sure how to act around her. Part of me wants to hate her, like I hate Courtney, but part of me also wants to be a better sister than Courtney is. I don't know what to choose.
I grab her a Coke from a nearby cooler and pop it open for her. "Only one."
Emma beams and scampers off with it to the pool's edge. I can tell she's curious about the water, but she's not allowed to jump in. She doesn't know how to swim, and I make a mental note to remind Dad to sign her up for lessons. I'll have to do it in a roundabout way, though, because there's no way in hell I'm gonna be seen as soft in this family.
Courtney's eyes follow Emma through her stupid, oversized sunglasses. "She's cute, isn't she? I wonder how long that'll last."
"Longer than it did with you."
Courtney shrugs as she sits up and slips into her coverup. "Yeah, probably, but why be cute when you can be sexy?"
I don't know what to say to that. She might have a point about me still being a kid. Courtney frowns and pats my head, her hand roughly bouncing off my skull twice.
"I'm gonna go find Connor," she tells me, although she has to know I don't care what she does. "Maybe we can make this party interesting."
That does make me smile. Those two are good at causing trouble, something I can appreciate when I'm not their main source of amusement, and this is just the place for it. I lean back in my chair, ready to watch the show or run, depending how dangerous it gets. And that's where Rachel finds me.
"Are you enjoying the party, Megan?" she asks in that sweetly poisonous plastic way of hers.
"Yep," I say curtly, hoping she'll accept it and leave me alone.
She grins down at me. "Oh, no need to lie. I know grown up things like this are probably boring to a kid like you."
"If you say so."
"I do. Why, I remember my parents throwing parties like this all the time. I had to go to every single one, starting from when I was about your age. You're what, eight now?"
"Eleven," I grit out for the second time that day. "I'm eleven."
"Oh, that's right, dear. Sorry. And I'm also sorry about your mother. It's been a few years already, hasn't it? It seems more recent than that, though. I imagine that's worse for you."
"I don't wanna talk about it," I tell her, shocked she's bringing it up. I really thought there was a limit on her pettiness.
"Of course not, dear. I'm sorry, both for you and your father. She truly made him happy, almost as happy as I did."
My fingers curl into fists, and I can feel my nails digging into my palms. "You don't make him very happy now, though, do you?"
She raises an eyebrow. "That's his own doing, sweetie. Besides, I'm committed Peter now."
Peter, the guy she married less than a year after she and Dad divorced, is a dork with the personality of a gnat. My dad might have his issues, but as far as broken men go, he's interesting. Peter isn't.
"Really? Because it sounds like you're still jealous, three women later."
Her face is a picture of shock, not so much at what I'm saying, but the fact I've said it at all. "I don't know what you're getting at, but–"
"You moved on. Fine, but he's allowed to do the same."
I run off to find Courtney before Rachel can say anything else. Courtney has many flaws, but at least she's always up for talking crap about Dad's first wife. She'll back me up on this. Only we're allowed to bitch about Dad, just like only Courtney and Connor are allowed to rag on their abusive mother, just like I'm the only one who can bring up my mom's death. We're awful people, but we have our rules.
I don't find Courtney, but I come upon Joe and Dad having a heated conversation in the kitchen. Dad seems to be trying to placate his oldest son, and it makes my blood boil. Joe doesn't deserve all of Dad's chances, not when Joe is the reason Dad keeps the rest of us at arm's length, the reason we have to earn Dad's love while Joe just throws it away.
"I was just trying to help," Dad is saying.
Joe snorts. "Right. Sounded to me like you were saying I couldn't get a job without you."
"I was just saying how I heard about a job opportunity."
"And you know some of the people hiring," Joe adds.
"It's not like I was offering to put in a good word or pull favors."
"Really?" Joe is incredulous. "That's sure what it sounded like to me. Just leave, Mike, and take your spawn with you."
"They're your siblings," Dad says defensively, but he's properly defeated with absolutely no more wind in his sails. "You could at least meet your new sister. She's curious about you."
Joe storms off without another word, and Dad finally notices me. I stiffen up, unsure what his reaction will be. He only shakes his head and slinks off to the backyard again. I stay there for a long moment, wishing we'd just leave. No one wants us here anyway.
"Emma!" Dad's cry startles me, and I run outside, because he sounds scared.
The scene that unfolds is one that stays with me for years. Emma is soaked to the bone, and she isn't moving, Dad is pressing on her chest, the guests watch in horror, and a drenched Joe is freaking out.
"I didn't mean to," Joe keeps saying. "I didn't mean to."
Emma coughs up water, and Dad holds her to his chest. "Thank God."
"Dad?" Joe says, sounding uncertain for once in his life.
"Meg." Dad stands up with a crying Emma in his arms, not even acknowledging Joe. "I'm taking Emma to the emergency room. Tell the twins to take you home."
Joe grabs Dad's arm. "Dad, I didn't know she couldn't swim."
Dad pulls away from his favorite child. "You know, you only call me 'Dad' when you want something from me, so what is it this time, forgiveness?"
"Yes." It's odd seeing Joe so desperate and scared, and a twisted part of me relishes it. "I didn't mean for her to fall in the pool."
"You shouldn't have pushed her at all, Joe. You're twenty-five, for fuck's sake! You should know better."
"I know, but I was mad, and I dove in after her at least, so–"
"No!" Dad cuts him off. "There's no excuse, Joe, not this time. You have no idea what it's like to almost drown!"
Joe's signature sneer comes back. "What, and you do?"
From Dad's expression, it seems like he's reappraising Joe and finding him lacking. "It's my fault. I created a Bob Sheldon with my own blood."
"What?" Joe's face scrunches up in confusion. "Who's Bob Sheldon?"
Dad doesn't answer, only says, "You're not my son anymore, Joe."
Rachel steps in with, "You don't really mean that."
"I do," Dad says. "Got what you wanted after all this time, didn't you Rach?"
Rachel gasps and closes her eyes like she has a right to be hurt after all she's put us through. This is her fault, her and Joe's. Peter, her supposedly better husband, pulls her away from the drama, but he doesn't say a word. What a spineless idiot.
"I should've known better," Dad says as he loads Emma in the backseat, and his eyes are misty.
It must be something in the air, because my own eyes sting as I run off to find my siblings. This whole day is shot.
"We need to leave," I tell Courtney, finally finding her near the shed in the side yard.
"Why, you think they won't like the show?" Connor is the picture of wicked glee. "We added some kick to the lame fireworks Rachel was gonna set off when it gets dark."
Courtney rubs her hands together. "I bet it's gonna scorch at least half of this manicured lawn."
"No, we need to go now," I insist, filling them in on what's happened while they were setting up their mischief, their eyes getting wider as I explain.
Connor clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna kill Joe."
Courtney puts her hands on her hips. "The hell you are."
"What, you can't honestly tell me you don't wanna pay him back for this?"
"Sure, but not tonight. We're too worked up, and starting anything now would be a mistake, so we'd better get going."
Connor scowls, still angry, but compliant. "Whatever you say."
We get to their car, and I wonder who messed us up the most? Was it really Joe, or Rachel, or Dad?
"Which of our moms does Dad hate the most?" I wonder out loud, hastily buckling up before Connor peels out in the street.
"Ours," Connor and Courtney answer in unison.
Their mother, Cheryl, was a two-timing basket case, or so I hear, but I don't think she's the winner.
"I think it's mine. She went and got killed before they could officially split."
"No, Izzy was..." Connor trails off and looks out his side window. "Well, she was tolerable, for a stepmom."
I'm almost sure that's a compliment.
"Yeah," Courtney agrees. "She got me and Connor into therapy for a while there, not that we needed it, but it was thoughtful."
"Not that we liked her or anything," Connor adds forcefully. "After all, she did ditch us for that job in LA. Ditched you too, Meg, don't forget."
"I don't," I whisper.
Courtney clears her throat. "Anyway, it could be Emma's. I mean, Dad paid her to go away, like he did our mom."
"That was different," Connor says. "Whatever he says, he did it because he thought it was best for Lori, so she could move on with her life. With Cheryl, he just wanted her away from us."
"And good riddance," Courtney mutters.
"Which do you hate the most?" I dare to ask. "Of our moms?"
"Rachel," they reply together.
I chew on the answer, and I see where they're coming from, but I think we're all lying to ourselves. I think we hate our own mothers and don't wanna admit it. I think we hate Dad too, but we're also protective of him. And there is no one, absolutely no one, we hate more than ourselves.
I lean back. "We don't make sense, do we?"
"'Course not," Courtney says. "We're people."
"And we're fucked up," Connor chips in.
They look at each other and crack up laughing. For once, I join in. There's nothing funny about it, but we're sick of crying. And somehow, in this warped moment, I feel part of a family.
If I'm being honest, these kids are still developing in my head as characters. I just wanted to write about them to solidify what's there, if that makes sense. Hope y'all enjoy!
