Lucy Bennet thought it was odd when Disney made a jolly little musical out of Beauty and the Beast in the 90s. She'd always read the original fairytale as something of a horror story – one that women gave to their daughters to teach them how to be the best and most submissive wives. How could anyone make a happy musical out of a story that terrifying? When the film was released, Lucy was grateful that Elenore was twenty-four years old and even more uninterested in princesses than she'd ever been – except for Princess Leia, who was still Elenore's hero. Either way, Lucy was glad that she wouldn't have to sit through some ridiculous rendition of Beauty and the Beast for as long as she lived … and then Elenore gave birth to a daughter, Veronica, in 1995.
Since Elenore was a single parent (and no one knew who Veronica's father was), Lucy and Dally were often responsible for Veronica while their own daughter went to work. One day, when Elenore was about four years old in 1999, she came to Grandma and Grandpa's apartment with a brand-new VHS tape in tow – the VHS for Beauty and the Beast.
When Lucy opened Veronica's backpack for the day and pulled out the tape, she frowned at Elenore before she could leave the house.
"What's this?" Lucy asked.
"It's a movie," Elenore said. "You watch them. Typically, you enjoy this activity."
"Sittin' and watchin' somethin' ain't no activity," Dally pointed out. He was already on the couch with Veronica, who sat beside him and showed him a picture book about all the instruments in a symphony orchestra. As she flipped each page, he nodded in acknowledgement. He didn't need to say anything for her to know that he was paying attention.
"Oh, so, you're arguing semantics now, Dad? With a lawyer? You're sure this is what you want to do?"
"Pretty sure, thanks."
Elenore concealed a smile and turned back to her mother, who was still waving the VHS copy of Beauty and the Beast in her daughter's face.
"I can't believe you would let her watch something like this," Lucy said. "You know how I feel about that story. It's terrifying! When the Beast turns into a prince again, he says it's because he's finally felt the love of a virgin! I don't want my granddaughter watching stuff like that! What happened to the way I raised you? Huh?"
Before Elenore could respond, Dally cut in.
"Your ma's got some … philosophical bone to pick," he said. "But I don't wanna watch another damn musical with this kid. They gimme the creeps. Look, I love you, Elenore, but I was pretty sure I was done with cartoons after you."
Lucy and Elenore exchanged baffled looks between each other. Off their expressions, Dally frowned and asked them what the hell they were looking at each other like that for.
"Nothing," Lucy said. "I'm just wondering … is that the first time you've ever said 'I love you' to your daughter?"
Dally shook his head once.
"Naw," he said. "I sign it in her birthday cards."
"No, I sign it in her birthday cards. You write 'Dad' underneath it."
"It's the same thing."
"It's really not."
Dally clicked his tongue and turned back to Veronica, who was still pointing at the pictures in her book. He kept nodding as she pointed to the illustrations, wondering if he'd ever buck up enough courage to tell his granddaughter he loved her, too (because he did). Lucy, meanwhile, felt her heart turn young again and sink into the pit of her stomach. They had been together more than thirty years, and he still hadn't told her that he loved her; despite the dare she gave him on their second anniversary. She folded her arms against her chest and reminded herself that to be jealous of her daughter would be to betray her undying hatred for the Oedipal triangle. It barely helped.
"This isn't just some stupid kids' movie," Elenore said. "It was nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars."
"Oscars are dumb," Lucy said. "Anything can win Best Picture if they sink enough money into it, even if it's just a super expensive version of a high-school kid's report on why racism is bad. I've been saying it every year since that Barbra Streisand Prince of Tides movie came out and got all those fancy nominations only to win nothing. Ask your father."
"I'm not really listening to you."
"See?"
"He said he wasn't listening."
"Oh, he just talks."
Elenore rolled her eyes and frowned at Lucy, who had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She knew that Elenore was over thirty years old, a mother, and couldn't be called cute, but it was cute to see that when Elenore got angry, she still looked just like Dally.
"Look, I told Veronica this was a good movie to watch for a reason," she said.
"What reason?" Lucy asked. "Is it the same reason that priests pray for the guardians of our virginity? I think you know that's a pretty terrible reason, Elenore."
"No. I told her she could watch this one because it reminds me of you and Dad."
Lucy's heart stopped. When Elenore was a little girl, they hadn't done much talking about the Beauty and the Beast story – only that whenever Lucy was made to read it as a child or in school, she would want to rip all of her hair out because of how insufferable the Beast was. How could she have known that Lucy grew up comparing herself to Beauty? How could she have known that Dally was born as little more than a beast with no capacity for loyalty or love?
"What parts?" Lucy asked.
"Just watch the movie, Mom," Elenore said. "Please. I know you. You'll like this one."
"I'll hate it," Dally said, not looking up from Veronica's book.
"I know you, too, Dad. You'll hate it."
Lucy eyed Elenore curiously, recognizing (albeit briefly) that her daughter was her own kind of odd. She wondered exactly how much she didn't know about Elenore … how much she probably should know about her.
"No guardians of our virginity in this one?" Lucy asked.
"Absolutely no guardians of our virginity."
Lucy frowned and opened the VHS to put it in for Veronica. Elenore waved goodbye to her own daughter before she left for the DA's office (the last place in the world she wanted to be).
When Lucy put in the VHS, she expected to loathe and despise the princess movie, just like she loathed and despised Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. But she didn't hate it. She didn't hate it at all.
Beauty – now called Belle, almost like a whole person – was the oddest girl in a town where she didn't belong. She knew how to take care of herself, and she read books to learn from them, not to cultivate a desirable temperament. Belle wanted adventures. Belle wanted knowledge, and she looked great in blue. Lucy, who was wearing a blue sweater, felt represented in a way that she'd never admit in front of Elenore.
When Belle and the Beast took turns being tough with each other after the Beast got torn up by some wolves, Lucy and Dally exchanged looks, almost like they'd had the same conversation. Lucy wouldn't have said anything, but when Dally asked, "'S that you, Bennet?" she had to say yes. It was too familiar.
When the Beast gave Belle a library of her own (almost like a bookstore to live in), Lucy wondered how expensive it would be to sue Disney for spying on her when she was eighteen. Dally must have heard her thinking it, since he muttered, "Not a good idea on a professor's salary."
"You made thirty grand bringing that computer guy's son back from Toronto not three months ago."
"And you made me put a lot of it in the Veronica college fund."
"Maybe you can take some out."
"You're dreamin', Bennet."
"Mommy says you guys are Beauty and the Beast," Veronica cut in. It was perfect timing. Their voices were beginning to mesh with the ones on the television.
"Which one's which?" Lucy asked.
"She says you're both … both."
In a way, Elenore was right. When they were young, Lucy and Dally were both on the outside of the outside. They were both too clever for their own good, and they were both angrier than they knew what to do with. Lucy sublimated her rage into books; Dally didn't know how to sublimate and just beat the tar out of the guys who pissed him off (and some of the guys who didn't). Both of them were, in their own ways, odd. Those traits were absolutely what brought them together.
Lucy did take issue with one part of that big "Beauty and the Beast" song. The issue was big enough so that she didn't feel like she had to sue Disney – at least, not for as great a sum as she'd intended. The teapot sang:
"Bittersweet and strange / finding you can change / learning you were wrong."
But that was just it. Neither of them had changed (at least, not for the worse). They were still those tough, angry kids from Tulsa. They were still the brunette with all the books and the meanest guy in the neighborhood. The difference now (and for thirty-four years) was that they had each other. The difference was that they could look at each other one time and know. Their hearts were still hardened, and their fists were still primed for a fight. Now, they went into that fight together. They'd been right about each other since they were young, and nothing about that had changed. But they were better together.
"Hope you ain't expecting a ballroom," Dally said.
"Hope you aren't expecting me to wear yellow."
"Guess I'll have to cross it off my list."
"Hmm, what a shame."
They laughed quietly to themselves. Veronica wasn't paying a lick of attention to them or to the movie. She'd picked up one of her grandfather's files and pretended to read it, like she was going to help him catch a bail jumper.
Before Dally grabbed the papers out of Veronica's hand, he looked at Lucy and said the same thing he always did.
"You're real strange."
After thirty-four years, she finally knew what he was trying to say.
"I know."
Lucy Bennet was odd. But at least now, the oddness was even.
And that's it!
Can you imagine if I made this a one shot? As it turns out, I have a lot to say about Lucy and Dally, since they are the anchors of the 'A&A' universe. I had a lot more to set up in this piece than I thought, especially in regard to the Veronica storyline. There are a lot of Easter eggs planted in that last section about that, including an indicator of my (potentially controversial) decision about what Dally ends up doing with his life. I kept him alive in my canon; part of that is developing him/making him grow based on what I'm given in the source text. Yikes.
Hinton owns The Outsiders. Disney owns their version of Beauty and the Beast (and have successfully extended its copyright by nearly thirty years). I own a keychain shaped like the Skywalker family lightsaber, which should have disintegrated on Bespin in The Empire Strikes Back … and I'm digressing.