Chapter Three

Surface

That night, Two-Bit went so far as to walk me to my front door. At first, I hoped that it was just because he thought I might make one last ditch effort to bolt. But when he followed me inside, I knew that I was done for. I closed my eyes right after I entered, inhaled deeply through my nose, savoring the day that I had experienced, the freedom that I had felt, because Darry was about to make all of that go away.

But when I opened my eyes, my eldest brother was nowhere in sight. Instead, Soda sat on our sofa, his elbows wresting on his knees, his forearms dangling in between his widespread legs. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, laughed even, but he looked at me with the sternest expression I had ever seen on his handsome face.

Two-Bit plopped down in dad's old recliner, and motioned for me to step further into the room with a curl of his fingers. "Superman, around?" He dug into the front pocket of his jeans and produced a small flask, Irish whiskey no doubt, Two-Bit always loved his sweet things

Soda tapped his palms together, which was the only tell I could gather of his hesitancy. "Work thing," his brown eyes were alarmingly intense as he stared me down, "Ponyboy's out with friends, and Steve went to meet up with Evie. I stayed here in case you'd call for a ride." He waved his hand in my direction, then cast a look at Two-Bit.

Two-Bit shook his flask, whether he was pretending it was empty or not, I couldn't tell. "I'm gonna snag a beer. Soda?" He looked to my brother once he managed to stand up from the recliner. Soda gave his head one firm shake, and Two-Bit disappeared into the kitchen.

I didn't bother to take a seat, or walk any further into the situation, bound to end with me grounded. This didn't seem to discourage Soda one bit. He stood up from the sofa, and started to take slow steps toward me, speaking lowly as he did.

"What have you gotten up to tonight, Lizzy?"

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling nauseous again. "I was out with friends, just like Ponyboy."

"So, you and Angela are friends now?"

He was close enough by then that I had to look up to meet his gaze, which I did, finally feeling my heat return. "I guess so. What, am I not allowed to have friends anymore?" He laughed sarcastically. "That another new rule? I stay locked up in here like Rapunzel?"

"Don't make this about us, Lizzy."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, it'd be just like the good old days, I'd stay with mom in the kitchen and you'd only ever see me when you felt hungry enough." I said so sharply that his eyes widened, but his brow remained furrowed.

"What the hell are you even talking about? We don't give a flyin' fuck what you do, s'long as it's not with a Shepard."

"That's a load of bullshit, Soda, and you know it."

"Hey," he raised his voice in a good attempt to startle me, but I had never learned to fear him the way that I had Darry, "Don't you use that language with me, Elizabeth."

"You ain't my boss!"

He made a noise akin to a growl, and brought up his clenched fists in between us, stooping down more, a condescending way to retain my attention. "I am sick and tired of you actin' like some bossy little princess. You weren't like this, Lizzy, you didn't mouth off, you didn't smoke, and you sure as hell wouldn't ever wear somethin' like that."

I finally exploded. "Oh yeah? Well, did it ever occur to y'all that you don't know a thing about me? Huh? Always so busy with your girls and your rumbles, did it ever occur to you that we've been strangers our whole lives?

"Dad's dead, but that does not make you or Darry my father. I've been gone almost a year," I tried to say without tearing up, but I could feel the emotion welling at my bottom lash line, "a fuckin' year and you think I'm gonna start listenin' to y'all like Pony?" His head hung from his shoulders; I couldn't see if his eyes were closed or not. His hands rested on his hips, something dad used to do when he was upset.

"I've been takin' care of myself for months now, so don't think you can pull this shit with me." I wasn't able to hold my tears back anymore. I felt my lib tremble, and barely managed to squeeze out my next sentence in a shaky breath. "Because I was all alone, Soda," he brought his left hand up to rub his forehead, "I needed y'all after the accident, but I was all alone."

I held my face in my hands, embarrassed for him to see me cry. I was shaking from my effort to hold in my sobs, when he pulled me into a gentle hug, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I attempted to exhale then inhale, but it all came out in a strangled gasp. His hold on me tightened.

"That's what we're tryin' to do now, sweetheart, look after you."

We stayed in that position for what felt like a long time. Soda stroked my hair, and I kept hoping that he would know I was drunk, that it was the reason for my emotional outburst. I quit crying quickly, but said nothing else, even though I wanted to. Even though I wanted to tell him it was too late.

I didn't wake up with a hangover that morning, I was never prone to them. I did wake up feeling as though I hadn't had a proper drink of water in days, so I climbed out of bed, and to the nearest faucet, in the hall bathroom we all shared. I held my head in the sink, and took desperate gulps from the stream of water. I brushed my teeth while I was there, and tried to avoid my reflection in the mirror. I had the good sense the night before to change into a comfortable set of pajamas, but was apparently too lazy to wash off my makeup. Mascara and eyeliner had smeared beneath my eyes, so I washed my face in case Darry was already awake.

I tiptoed back to my room, and relaxed once I saw the clock on my bedside table read 5:30 am. I couldn't remember whether Ponyboy told me that Darry worked Saturday mornings or afternoons, so I settled back in under my covers and nestled my head down into my pillow. I tried to fall back to sleep, but memories from the day before kept sticking to the forefront of my mind, making me cringe.

I remembered how I blew up at Soda during our fight, and cried into his chest in a drunken mess. I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, realizing that he would have a conversation with Darry about it, and that they'd treat me like crystal instead of china. Neither of them knew about Curly and I, unless Two-Bit had tattled after Soda had walked me to my bedroom.

Curly Shepard, an image of him pressing me against the back wall of his house ran across my conscious, and I shuddered. It wasn't because of Curly, for all his shortcomings he was harmless, actually more adept with the female anatomy than one would guess. But every time he kissed me, every time he touched me, I would think of Don, and then no amount of pleasure could distract me from the sick sensation crawling up my throat. Whenever I thought of Don, I experienced a kind of emptiness, so powerful that my limbs stopped feeling like my own.

The next time I woke up it was 7:00. I put on a worn in pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt. I started thinking that it would be a good idea for me to cook my brothers breakfast, good graces and all, but when I made my way into the kitchen, Ponyboy was already standing over the stove.

I rubbed my palms down the front of my pants, and took the seat farthest from my little brother. I knew he had heard me walk in, our floorboards were creaky enough, but he didn't say anything.

"Never though I'd see the day you'd cook." I said finally.

"Nobody else around to do it." He responded, without looking back at me.

I smirked. "You mean I wasn't around to do it?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he brought one of the pans he had been hovering over to the table, scraping the scrambled eggs he had made onto a plate. "If there's one thing I didn't miss, it was tryin' to choke down your potpie."

I scoffed and he smiled to himself, moving back over to the stove, to a skillet I assumed he was cooking pancakes in.

"So, why are you up so early?" I asked.

"Goin' for a run, thought I'd cook Darry breakfast before he heads out."

I got up to rummage through our cabinets in search of the coffee, something to tide me over long enough so Ponyboy wouldn't be around to see me go out for a cigarette. I had my back turned to him the next time he spoke.

"You been out with Curly Shepard?"

I closed the cabinets softly, having found what I was looking for, but didn't turn around to look at him. The coffee pot was just slightly to my left. "Where'd you hear that from?"

"Got some buddies who were at Buck's last night, all got to see your little show." At that point I did turn around to face him, but he was still watching his pancakes, spatula poised to flip another. My pulse thumped in my ears, he had never had this attitude with me before.

"I'm surprised I didn't see you there." He must've heard the burning tone of my voice, as he turned around to meet my eyes, finally looking a little sheepish. "So, it's true then."

"You go too."

"I'm not fourteen and wet behind the ears." He looked back to the stove, ears tinged red. I felt a twang of guilt pinching at my gut, and thought maybe I'd spoke too harshly.

I gave an attempt at a weak smile and made my tone as playful as possible. "Angela says hi by the way, misses seeing you down at the Ribbon." I watched him shake his head, turning the stove off.

"Yeah, well I don't miss seeing her." I laughed.

We moved around the kitchen in mostly comfortable silence after that. Eventually I sat back down at the table with my mug of coffee, just in time for me to watch Darry stomp into the room, take a look at all of the food laid out on the table, and shoot a fond smile Pony's way. Something told me this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows once he sat down at the head of the table. "You're up early."

I tried not to stiffen. Had Soda already ratted me out to Darry?

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're serious?" I maintained my blank stare and he snorted to himself. "If you ever had to get up before 11, dad had to drag you out of bed."

"I went to bed pretty early last night, I guess."

Darry shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth. "Yeah about that," he swallowed and took a few moments before speaking, rubbing his fingertips together like he used to when dad would quiz him for a test. "We should talk when I get home later."

Ponyboy paused mid-bite to look between the two of us. I had a right mind to kick him underneath the table, he looked more suspicious than I did. "About what?"

"Oh, Soda just said, you know…that you said some things to him…about being away."

I chuckled. "Oh, Dar, that's really not a big deal. We don't need to talk about it."

"I don't know about that, Lizzy, Soda said you were really…uh, upset, and if you, you know…are havin' problems, then," he looked up to find me holding back a grin, "oh to hell with it, talk to Soda or Pone if you're sad, come to me if you need someone beaten up—got it?"

I raised my eyebrows and laughed. "I guess so." I looked to Ponyboy so that we could shake our heads at our eldest brother together, but he didn't look amused.

The look in his eyes was the same one he had the day I got back into town; unnerving and inquisitive, searching, like I was hiding something from him. Which I was, I was hiding something from all of them.