I found that I was really tired that night, so I ended up going to bed early, stuffing cotton balls into my ears, to drown out

the noise that the boys were making in the living room.

Darry hadn't even made it home for supper. He'd called after my talk with Soda, and said he was gonna stay a couple more hours

to try to finish up a roofing job. So, I didn't even see Darry that night, since I was already in bed whenever he finally did

make it home. Two Bit was, as was common, spending the night, and so the three of them, he and Soda and Pony,

were making a whole lot of noise. With the cotton balls, and then the fact that I was tired, it didn't keep me awake, though.

When I woke up the next morning, it was to the usual morning noises. I got up and got dressed, in customary shorts and an

older shirt. I figured I would get sweaty and messy while I was at the Wilson's, so there was no use to dressing up any more than

that.

When I got to the kitchen, it was teaming with males, as usual. Two-Bit, of course, and Steve was there, too. Soda was

flipping flapjacks at the stove, and he turned to say 'mornin' to me.

Two-Bit greeted me with, "Hullo, gorgeous!" in his usual effervescent way. Pony said, 'Hey, Junie' to me as he

was busily forking pancakes onto his plate, and smothering them with maple syrup. Steve, as was customary,

largely ignored me.

I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. "Where's Darry?" I asked Soda.

"Up and gone already," Soda said.

"Already?" I asked.

"Yeah. He's got a couple of jobs he's pressured to finish up," Soda said.

"Is he gonna be home for supper?" I asked.

"He said he'd try," Soda said.

I went to sit at my spot at the table, taking a couple of pancakes from the platter, and eating.

When everybody was finishing up eating, of course I was done long before the boys, who just kept stuffing themselves.

They all began to get up, scooting up their chairs, and horsing around. I began stacking plates, and telling Soda that

I was heading to the Wilson's house again to work.

"We can give ya a ride there," Soda told me, and I thought that Steve looked less than thrilled, although he didn't say anything.

"Okay," I paused to gesture to the sticky stacked plates. "What about these?"

Soda and I both looked at Pony, who held up his hands in defense. "Not me. I got some extra hours at the bowling alley. They're

paintin' and they needed some help. I gotta leave soon, too."

"Put 'em to soak, then," Soda told me.

I dreaded to think of all those dishes waiting for me when I got home from the Wilson's.

"What time are ya gettin' home?" I asked Pony.

I had my own agenda for asking him the question, and he knew it, too, because he pushed his hair away from his eyes

and countered with, "What time are you gettin' home?"

"Probably after you," I countered, re-countered.

"We'll see," Pony said.

"You have to do these if you get home first-" I insisted.

"We'll see," Pony said, again.

"Stop sayin' that!" I snapped.

"Stop raggin' on me," Pony said.

"Stop, both of ya," Soda intervened, pausing at the doorway of the kitchen.

Pony and I both looked over at him.

"Whoever gets home first, does the dishes," Soda pronounced. "That's it."

Pony shrugged, and went on, chugging down his orange juice, and asking Two-Bit to give him a ride to the bowling alley.

I could have, would have liked, to argue further, but when I added "I do most of the dishes around here-" and Soda

gave me a look, and said, "Hush it, Junie," then I hushed.

I was squished into the middle, between Steve and Soda, in Steve's car, as they drove me to the Wilson's house.

"How long ya gonna be here today?" Soda asked.

"At least two hours," I said. "Probably more."

"Walk straight home after," Soda said.

"I will."

"Call me down at the station when ya get home," he ordered.

"Yeah. Okay," I said.

Steve said something then about what those boys at the drugstore had been talking about the day before. A rumble that was planned.

I paid good attention to what he was saying. Soda didn't say too much. Only mentioned a few names, and discussed

location.

I turned to my right to survey him with sisterly concern.

"You ain't gonna go, are ya?" I demanded.

"Is that the house?" Soda asked, pointing, instead of answering my question.

"Yeah," I said, looking at the Wilson's unkempt yard.

Steve pulled the car to a stop, and Soda got out first, then I slid out after him. He stood there by the open car door, obviously

impatient to be on his way.

"Have a good one," he told me.

I caught at his arm. "Soda, you're not, are ya?"

His blue eyes landed on my face. "Don't worry so much, June-Bug," he told me, and tapped my nose with his

finger as though I was five years old again.

"I don't want ya to!" I said, insistently.

"Soda, come on!" Steve snapped, from inside the car.

"I gotta go-" Soda told me, and slid back into the car. I put my hands on the open window frame, and said,

stubbornly, "I'm not lettin' go until you tell me ya won't!"

"Get run over then," Steve threatened darkly, leaning over to give me a nasty look.

"Junie, we'll talk about it later, okay?" Soda said, and gave me one of those winning smiles of his.

"Well, okay," I said, and moved my hands reluctantly.

As Steve put the car in gear, and began to back out of the Wilson's driveway, Soda called out a reminder. "Call me when ya

get home. Don't forget."

I knew, just knew, as sure as my birth given name is Juniper Marie Curtis, that Soda was planning to be

involved in that rumble.

Outsiders

I put in a day at the Wilson's. Boy, did I put in a day! Mrs. Wilson was nearly giddy at her near-freedom from the confines

of her dirty house, and all the sticky-fingered little Wilsons.

She put me to work doing the breakfast dishes while she went to get dressed for the day. When she came back into the kitchen, followed

by two of the kids, I nearly did a double-take.

Changed out of her dowdy house-coat, and instead in a smart-looking skirt and lacy blouse, and with her hair fixed nice,

and wearing a goodly amount of makeup, well-

I hadn't realized how good-looking Mrs. Wilson really was, underneath all that housewifery dowdiness. She pulled on a jacket that matched

the skirt, and I thought that nobody would be able to tell that she was expecting.

I told her she looked real nice, and she smiled, with freshly applied lipsticked lips. Bright cherry red.

"Thank you, June," she told me. "The number where I'll be is written on that pad by the telephone, alright? I'll be home sometime

after lunch, I imagine."

She told me a few things she wanted me to do, and I thought it sounded like an awfully lot, when combined with riding

herd on four kids. But, I just said okay, and saw her out the front door. The second to the youngest set up to wailing as

she saw her mother leaving.

So, that took some time, to settle her down. I had to stop, mid-way in my comforting, to put the baby in her play yard, where

she fell asleep promptly, pushing her butt up in the air while she slept.

The boys began clamoring for snacks, and no amount of reasoning would stop it, so I gave in and set them down at the kitchen table

with snacks of raisins and bananas.

I mentioned that I might make cookies, and the three older kids became instantly feverish with excitement.

I tried to instruct them to picking up some toys in the living room before we began on the cookies. Yeah. That didn't work

so well.

We stirred up oatmeal cookies, and I let all three older ones take turns with the stirring. They bickered and fussed so

much it made me feel cross-eyed. I thought of how I'd fussed with Pony that morning and was ashamed of myself. I should be

above such lowly fussing with Pony-even if I did do way way more dishes around our house than he did.

When the cookies were in the oven, then we all went outside into the back yard, where I supervised their playing, and

toted the baby around until my back was aching. She was a heavy little thing.

The first batch of cookies was charred, because I quite simply forgot about them. The kids still wanted to eat them, but

I threw them into the garbage and put in a second batch from the cookie dough left in the bowl.

These I watched, and when they came out, they were warm and chewy. All three kids enjoyed them, and then I thought

it was time to think about lunch. And then, I thought with relief, I would be free to go home. I hoped Pony wasn't home, even

if that meant I had to do the dishes. I was going to put Elvis on the hi-fi and crank him up full blast. And then, enjoy having no

little kids to tend to. This was hard work!

I already had the kids all fed, ham sandwiches and grapes, and the baby had a bottle and went back to sleep.

I kept listening for Mrs. Wilson's car in the drive, but-nope. I finally gave up, and ate a sandwich for myself. I was hungry and

couldn't wait any longer.

After that, I turned on the radio, trying to find some sort of soothing music, and tried to get all the three older kids to

lay down in the living room to nap. Only two of them went to sleep, but I finally gave the oldest a Matchbox car to play with,

and he amused himself rolling it back and forth on the floor.

Once, I thought I heard something outside, and got up to and look out the window. Nope. No sign of Mrs. Wilson.

A look at the living room clock proclaimed it to be nearly one-thirty. Okay, it was past the noon hour when Mrs. Wilson

had said she would be home. She hadn't exactly promised, I guessed. Too bad that I had taken it for a promise. I wanted to

get to my couch-lounging, Elvis listening time.

I should have been content to sit there and just rest, but it was boring. If I was gonna rest, then I wanted to be on my

own comfy couch when I did it. Without the chance that at any moment a child might awaken and want attention.

So, I went inside to the kitchen, where I cleaned up the kitchen, wiping down the cabinets and stacking the washed dishes

neatly in the cupboard.

The telephone began ringing insistently, and I ran to the living room to answer before it woke the kids up. I picked it up

on the beginnings of the third ring, with a breathless 'hello?' I was sure it was Mrs. Wilson, telling me she had been held up.

Nope.

"Junie-" came Soda's voice across the telephone wire. "I kept waitin' for ya to call me-I was gettin' worried, and then

when I called home and ya didn't answer-"

"Alright-" I said, trying to curtail his scolding. "You said to call ya when I got home, and I'm not home yet, so I didn't call." I said

this in a loud whispered tone.

"What are you doin', still there?" he demanded.

I took the telephone in my hand, and went as far as the telephone cord would allow. "Mrs. Wilson isn't home yet."

"How come?"

Now, that was a silly question.

"I don't know," I said.

"Ya mean she hasn't called?"

"No."

"I thought she was sposed to be home by noon time. That's what ya said."

"That's what she told me," I said, feeling snappish. "I can't help it that she's not home yet, Soda. What do you expect

me to do? It's not as though I can walk out and leave four little kids by themselves-"

"Alright, alright," Soda said, shutting me down. There was a moment of silence and I said, "Are ya still there?"

"Yeah. Listen, did she leave a number where she'd be?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I want ya to call her. Find out when she's gonna be home," he said.

"I don't know, Soda," I said, hesitantly. "I'd feel sort of funny doin' that-"

"If she's not home by two-thirty, then I want ya to call," he insisted.

I took a look at the clock. It was 2:10. Probably 2:12 to be exact.

"I'll call ya back in a bit, to see what she said," Soda said, and then he hung up.

I sighed, watching the clock hands inch towards 2:30.

Outsiders