For what was left of the afternoon, I did the rest of my chores, folding laundry, and straightening my bedroom. Pony and I had a silent
agreement, of sorts. We didn't argue, but we didn't talk much, either. It wasn't a horrible silence, or anything. Just-more of each of us
letting the other one just 'be'.
When Two-Bit showed back up again, he and Pony went out in the back yard to hang out. I realized that I hadn't eaten any
lunch, and so I fixed myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, even though it was nearly two-thirty.
After that, I went to my bedroom, and read 'To Kill a Mockingbird'.
I kept laying sideways on my bed, on my left side, because my right upper thigh was where that darn splinter was
lodged. I tried picking it out with my fingernails, but it was hard to do, not being able to see back there. Even looking in the mirror sideways
didn't help. And, it hurt. It must be the size of a two by four, the way that it felt in there. I dabbed some antiseptic on it with a cotton ball,
and laid down on my bed to read.
I could hear when Soda got home, because the house was filled with male voices. Soda and Steve, and I could hear Two-Bit, and Pony, too.
I stayed where I was, reading, and after awhile, there was a rapping on my door.
"Hey, Juuuunie," Soda said from outside the door.
I called back to him, and he opened the door. He was still wearing his shirt from work, but he'd scrubbed up, because
there were no tell-tell signs of oil and grease on his arms and hands.
"I'm gonna fry catfish," he announced.
"Sounds good," I said, not looking up from my book.
"How come you're not outside, takin' pictures?" he asked.
"I'm out of film," I said.
"Oh."
"And since I only have a dollar to my name, I can't get any," I said.
I swung a glance up at him, to see that he looked faintly disapproving of my continued 'poor mood'.
"I'm just stating a fact," I defended myself.
"I'll try to get ya some tomorrow after work," he said, then.
I sat up so fast that my 'splintered' thigh came in contact with the scratchy bedspread.
"Oww," I winced, and then said, "Thanks, Soda! I mean, thanks a lot! I really appreciate it!"
"Okay." He came over closer to the bed. "Did you get the splinter out?"
"How am I supposed to get it out, where it's at?" I pointed out. "I'd have to have octopus arms or somethin'."
"Well, okay. Let me see."
"No."
"Stop bein' dumb," he ordered, and gave me a slight shove, to send me into a lying down position. He looked at the
area with the splinter and said, critically, "It's red. It needs to come outa there."
"Not right now," I said, twisting away from him. "You have to fry fish."
"You and Pony are such babies," he said. "Somebody has to do it. So it's me, or it's Darry."
"Alright. But, later, okay?" I said. "After supper."
"Later. Always later," he said, but he grinned at me, and went back out.
I knew when Darry got home, too, because I could his voice intermingled with the other guys. When they hollered
at me to come and eat, I went out, sitting down at my chair around the crowded table. Soda had made corn muffins to
go with the fried catfish, and all of them were drinking beers, except Pony.
There were a couple of times that I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, so as not to sit prominently on my right side.
I looked up from picking the bones out of my fish once to see Darry looking at me, as if he were puzzled. I gave him a wan smile, and
went back to eating.
After everybody was finishing up eating, and getting to their feet, I started stacking plates.
"Two-Bit and I'll do the dishes, Junie," Soda said, touching me on the shoulder lightly.
I knew he was doing that because of the fit that I'd pitched earlier. Sometimes, when Soda is sweet like that,
it makes me more ashamed of myself for something than if he'd hollered about it.
"K," I said, quietly.
Darry's always real hot and sweaty after work, from being out in the heat all day. He usually takes a shower right
after he eats. Sometimes before. Then he'll usually sit down in the living room with a beer, and talk to any of us for
awhile. I waited until he was finished in the shower, and then I grabbed it next. I put on a pair of cotton shorts that didn't
rub on my splinter too badly, and an old t-shirt of Soda's that hung practically to my knees, and socks. I knew I looked peculiar,
but I didn't care. It's not as though Two-Bit and Steve are 'regular boys'. They've seen me at my worst, plenty of times.
When I went out to the kitchen to get a cold drink, Two-Bit paused, and gave a whistle.
"Ooo, June-Bug," he mocked. "That is some sexy outfit, right there. Bet you could audition for a centerfold in that get-up-"
Soda was grinning, as though Two-Bit was hilarious.
"I probably could," I told Two-Bit, blithely, not bothered overly-much by his teasing. Two-Bit is like that. He teases me a lot, but
it's never anything really insulting or hurtful, and if I pitched a fit about it, he would stop. And probably even apologize for it.
I got my drink, and side-stepped thru the living room, around all the boys, heading back to my bedroom.
Darry was sitting at the end of the couch, and as I passed by, he said, "Goin' to your room?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna read," I said, quietly.
He nodded in assent, but I could tell he was wondering. Mostly I stay out with everybody on evenings like this,
making the boys snacks, and laughing at their roughhousing. Or watching television with everybody. I also had a
bit of a devious agenda, though. Sometimes, if I did this-go to my bedroom quietly and not join in with the hijinks,
then Darry will come to my room to check on me. Make sure that I'm alright, not feeling sick or something like that.
I don't think he was wise to the fact that I was wise to him on it. And, that's what I wanted him to do.
Come to my room, so I could talk to him in private. If I could talk to him quietly, without all the hyenas around, it likely
would go better.
I was laying and reading, again on my left side, when Darry came. It had been about thirty minutes or maybe a little longer,
when he knocked.
I closed my book as he came in, and sat up on the edge of my bed. Darry looked way more relaxed since he'd had
a couple of beers, and a shower, and some supper. I noticed, even then, that his face and his arms were tanned so
dark that it made his eyes look even darker.
"Alright if I come in?" he asked me.
"Yeah," I said, with a nod.
He did. Come in, I mean, and he closed the door behind him.
He came over and stood beside the bed, looking down at me.
"Ya feelin' alright?" he asked.
I nodded to him, and he said, "Anything wrong? That's got ya in here by yourself? Or are you just tired of
the whole bunch of them out there?"
"The boys are alright," I said. I sat up a little straighter, and said, "I do wanna talk to ya, though."
Darry had a quick look on his face, and I knew it was because of the night before, when I'd said I wanted to talk to
him about something, and then I'd ended up pitching a fit, and he'd sent me to bed. I knew he was thinking this was
gonna be a repeat of that.
To his credit, though, he didn't say any of that. He just said, "Okay", and pulled the straight back chair away from my desk
in the corner, and brought it over closer to the bed. He turned it, and straddled it, resting his arms across the back.
He waited then, looking at me expectantly, and probably a bit warily, if I wanted to be truthful about it.
I decided to dispose of the events of last night firstly.
"I wanted to tell ya that I'm sorry for last night, when I was sassing you," I said.
I'd surprised him a bit. I could tell.
Before he could say anything, I went on. "I was tryin' to explain to ya-but I shouldn't have been disrespectful."
He nodded a little, and said, "Thank ya for the apology. I appreciate it."
"I know I need to mind you, about not workin' at the drugstore, and all," I said. "I was thinkin' though, that I could babysit, maybe."
"Babysit, huh?" he asked, not sounding thrilled.
"Yes. Remember? You said last night that paper routes and babysitting are the ways kids my age earn money-"
"I remember." He looked thoughtful for a long moment, and said, "What did you have in mind?"
"Babysittin' around the neighborhood-like for the Wilson's. I babysat for them once last year, remember?"
"Uh huh," he said. "That's not really 'in the neighborhood', Junie. That's a decent walk over there."
"It is." I took a breath, and plunged on. "Mrs. Wilson's gonna have another baby."
"Is she?" he asked. "What will this make for them? Four kids?"
"Five," I said.
"Five," he repeated.
"She needs help cleanin' the house, and keepin' up with things," I said, then. I could see then, that Darry was putting
'two and two together' and coming up with 'four'.
I hurried up with my explanation. "I know all this, because I went over there this mornin'. I wanted to ask her about the
babysittin', and she said what she really needed was help with cleaning up, and so I helped, and she paid me."
The expression on his face was already changing a bit. Turning harder. Not stern, yet. But, close to it.
I rushed on. "Only fifty cents an hour-so a dollar today. But, a dollar is better than none, right?"
"A dollar is always better than none at all," he said, dryly.
And, then. "Is that what you're to do?" he asked. "Make a decision, and then go to doin' it, without askin' permission first?"
I shook my head. "No. Honest, though, I didn't even think of it, Darry."
"You didn't think of askin' permission?" he asked, looking displeased at my choice of words.
"I was gonna talk to Mrs. Wilson-and see what she said, and then I would have asked you," I said, knowing that
the explanation would sound weak to Darry. "I didn't think about her havin' me stay around today."
"Did you tell anyone you were walkin' over there at all?" he persisted. "You didn't ask me, obviously, so did you
ask Soda?"
"No," I said. "I only told Pony."
"Do ya think tellin' Pony is the same as askin' Soda or me?"
I shook my head in answer. I knew anything I had to say in my own defense had to be said now.
"I want to earn money, so I can buy the camera flash," I reiterated. "I'm sorry that I didn't ask first."
"If you were walkin' over there, or anywhere, for that matter, and you got jumped, or somethin' happened, and none of us
knew where to look for ya, how do you think we'd feel?"
"You'd feel bad," I said. "Angry."
"And scared," Darry added.
I prepared myself to be grounded. Aw, well. I'd tried, and I'd hoped for the best in this. But, I guessed that I wouldn't be making
any more money this week, even a paltry fifty cents an hour. I waited for Darry to pass sentence, hoping that it wouldn't be very
long of a grounding.
When Darry did speak, though, he surprised me. In a good way.
"When did Mrs. Wilson want ya to come back?" he asked.
I sat up a little straighter yet, and said, "Tomorrow. For two hours. And then two hours a day for the rest of the week."
"Alright. You can go over tomorrow. If it goes okay, then you can go back the next day. For two hours, only. You still have your own stuff
to do 'round here. Pony will walk over with ya, and then come back to walk ya home. You be sure and thank him for doin' it, too. Hear me?"
I was sort of amazed, actually. I nodded, feeling happy.
"Yes. I will. Thanks, Darry!" I stood up, and surprised him, then, by going to hug him around his neck.
He was surprised, yeah, but not displeased by my show of affection. I could tell, because he hugged me in return, and patted
me on the back. I went to flop back down on my bed, forgetting, again, about that damn splinter.
I let out an 'ow'. I couldn't help it.
"You've been favorin' your behind all evening," Darry said. "What's your problem? Soda pop ya or somethin'?"
He was joking, and I knew it, too.
"As if," I said. "I got a splinter off that stupid railing on the porch."
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah. We really need to do somethin' about that porch-" I said.
"I'll add that to my list of priorities," he said, dryly. He stood up, and walked the few steps over to the bed.
"Let me see," he ordered.
"Soda said he would take it out-" I began.
"Soda took off with Steve awhile ago. He musta forgot. Come on. Let me take a look."
I groaned, but laid on my belly, while Darry perused my upper thigh.
"You've got one in there, for sure," he said.
"An an inch or two long, by the way it feels," I complained.
"Naw. It's at least the size of a tree branch," Darry said, with humor. I giggled a little. I like it when Darry's
silly sometimes.
He patted my leg. "I'll get the first aid kit," he said.
"Don't rush," I said, in my own attempt at humor.
I was still laying on my stomach when Darry came back in. I could hear the metal first aid kit clanking as he opened it.
"Where's the antiseptic?" he asked, as if talking to himself.
"It's on my dresser," I said, turning my head to point.
"Why?" he asked, stepping over to retrieve the white bottle.
"I put some on earlier."
"It's not really gonna help, until the splinter is out," Darry told me.
"Like I told Soda, I don't have octopus arms," I said.
"Alright. Well, let's see what I can do here," he said, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He shifted my legs slightly, so that
my right leg was sort of resting on his leg.
I buried my face into my folded arms, inhaling the fabric softener from my blankets. It hurt like the dickens when
Darry started prying that splinter out of my leg with a needle, and then the tweezers.
I kept still, though. At least I didn't say anything, or holler. I might have moved my leg a little as he dug, but he had
a good hold of me, and I couldn't really jerk around much.
After a few minutes, he started dabbing antiseptic on the spot, and then I felt him putting band aids on.
"Are you done?" I asked.
"Yep. Surgery is complete," Darry said, with humor, and patted my leg, moving it off of his own. He started packing things up
to put back into the kit. I sat up, sort of gingerly, still favoring that side.
"Thank you, I guess," I said.
Darry gave me a half-smile. "Be careful where you sit at from now on," he advised.
Outsiders