Chapter Four

Liberate

The second night that I was back it happened. I figured that I was safe to smoke a cigarette on our back steps at three o'clock in the morning, something to keep my thoughts from multiplying and burning up my brain. I had been about to take another drag when I heard it, a loud creak from the open window in Ponyboy and Soda's room, then urgent gasps. I knew what was happening before the sound of Soda's gentle voice filtered into the backyard, carried by the damp air. I tucked the piece of hair framing the right side of my face behind my ear so I could hear them better.

"Pone—hey, hey, hey," he sounded slightly out of breath, he must have run down the hallway once he heard the noises. Soda always was a light sleeper.

"I-I'm OK, Soda, just…spooked a little…"

The bed creaked again, and I imagined Soda scooting closer to Ponyboy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Pony would let his head fall limp toward his chest so that could Soda could ruffle is strawberry blonde hair. I had seen them in that position enough times to picture it more vividly than I could picture my mother and father kissing each other goodbye.

"Well, you got me spooked." Soda attempted a lighthearted chuckle. "'S been a while since you've had a nightmare…you remember it?"

Ponyboy sighed. "Sort of, I think mom and dad were there…somebody was leavin', but…I needed to get them to stay…I could never get to 'em, though."

"Do you think," he paused, "do you think it might…have to do with Lizzy…bein' back 'n all."

I jerked my head in the direction of their window then, my heartbeat moving up into my throat.

Ponyboy waited a few beats before he spoke again. "Yeah…ever since she got back…I just feel all messed up inside…like somethin' ain't right…"

"Like somethin' ain't right with Lizzy?"

"I…I'm not sure…" I turned back to look at our backyard after that, not bothering to listen to the rest of the conversation. It stung, it stung to hear that my presence seemed to have such a negative affect on my little brother.

I sat out there for another half an hour, whole hour maybe. I didn't hear Soda get up to go back to his room, so I assumed he had stayed with Ponyboy, and the two of them had fallen asleep together.

I kept running his words back and across my mind; "somethin' ain't right". I knew what he meant, and the answer made me sad, almost sadder than my parents being dead. He meant that I didn't feel right, that after all this time away, I wasn't like family anymore, I was an outsider.

Funny enough, it was the distance we lived with as children that kept Soda from ratting me out to Darry. I guess he just wasn't use to anyone dealing with my discipline except mom. I always got a front row seat for their punishments. Dad was a yeller, anyone living on our street would know just how many weeks Darry or Soda would have to clean the dishes, once they had pushed him far enough. Mom liked to handle things behind closed doors, usually in my room, sometimes in the kitchen if she knew no one was home, very rarely did she take me into her room to do it.

When I was younger, she favored a belt to the back of the legs, or to my bare stomach. After a while, the sting of the leather lost its effect, so she resolved to more verbal punishments, more psychological fear tactics, which she was always more suited for. I remembered the first time she caught me wearing my skirt rolled up, she told me if I ever dressed like a harlot again that she'd make me walk around the neighborhood in my underwear. She said if I wanted to act like a strumpet, then that's what she'd make me. She meant every word of it too.

Since Darry wasn't wary of me over the drinking incident, he didn't spare any second thoughts about leaving me home alone on the weekdays. After that Friday, I could tell that Soda wanted to object, but he had never been the confrontational type, so I was left to my own devices while the two of them worked, and Ponyboy went down to the track.

I didn't aim to misbehave, I really took what Soda said during our argument to heart, that I had been acting like a "bossy little princess". I was my mother's daughter, through and through, so as I sat on our front porch, watching the day go by, my cigarette burning out, I felt a familiar restlessness. It was like a fizzing ball of energy building up inside me, which I used to be able to quell, from all the years of being under my mother's thumb. It seemed that I lost that endurance during the months I lived with Jeanie.

In the end it wasn't left up to me what I did, not really. A black chevy pulled up parallel to the curb in front of my house, and the beautiful head of Angela Shepard stuck out the backseat window. She shot me her wicked Shepard grin, and called out, "Get in, ya damsel."

I didn't bother to go inside to grab my purse, only grabbing my pack of kools and lighter from the arm of the chair I sat in, fearing that they would drive away if I took too long.

Curly Shepard sat in the driver's seat, and shot me a smirk, which made me want to roll my eyes. Next to him was a chick I had never met, with nicely styled dirty-blonde hair, and dark eyebrows, pretty in a charismatic sort of way, like she belonged on the red carpet. She didn't bother to look my way, and busied herself with finding a decent radio station.

Angela was still leaning out the window and grinning by the time that I reached her.

"Who you callin' damsel?" I grinned back at her.

She reached for my pack of cigarettes. "Oh, I just recall you sayin' something last weekend, 'bout how your brothers keep you under lock and key." I did? I thought. She wrinkled her nose at the emptiness of our house. "Want us to take you somewhere more fast-paced?"

After our argument, Soda didn't seem too keen to give up his new authoritarian big-brother act, if anything he felt he needed to protect me more. If he knew that I went off to hang out with Angela and Curly Shepard, again, then he would have no qualms about telling Darry about my latest adventures. I knew that this time, I'd have to be more careful, I'd need to keep an eye out for the gang, so my fun wouldn't be ruined by the sidekicks.

Fortunately for me, I had always been a decent liar.

Curly parked us in the vacant lot behind a warehouse, somewhere a few blocks from downtown. The girl sitting in the passenger seat didn't say anything on the drive there, Curly and Angela bickered about everything under the sun, the song on the radio, whether the windows should be up or down, the fastest way to get where we were going, etc.

I turned to Angela once we had all exited the car, "So much for fast-paced, huh?"

"Be patient, baby," Curly said, whilst grabbing a paper bag out of the trunk, "this is just a rendezvous."

Once the blonde heard "baby", she began to look me up and down. There was something off about her, it wasn't until she was out of the car that I could take in her clean clothes, polished shoes, and the condescending arch of her eyebrow. Her fingernails weren't even painted. She was a soc.

She plastered an obviously fake smile on her face, and held out her hand to me. "We haven't officially met, I'm Margaret."

I shook her hand hesitantly. "Lizzy."

"So how do you know Charles?"

I looked toward Angela with a cocked eyebrow, and the two of us tried not to snicker. "He and my little brother buddy around."

"Enough small talk," Curly cut in, his mood must've gone sour once he heard Margaret call him Charles. Curly faced the back of the warehouse, where a rusty door shrieked open, two hard looking greasers walked out. They moved toward us with the same loping slouch all the Shepard boys used. Neither of them were anything to look at, at least not compared to my brothers, but both appeared lean and strong. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the Shepards had in mind that they needed back up for.

I started to direct my perplexed expression at Angela, but Curly moved toward me, his hand holding the paper bag outstretched. "Drink up." I took the bag, grasping the neck of the bottle inside. I hesitated to take a sip, so Curly raised his eyebrows, they disappeared underneath his bangs until I complied, then he grinned at me. "Good girl."

That time I did roll my eyes, and took three real swigs, because if Curly was going to keep up his Casanova act then I'd need to be more than a little buzzed. I passed the bag to Angela after, then she passed it to Margaret. Once it circled back to me, I offered it back to Curly, who declined, then to the two JDs standing next to him, who also declined.

I finally spoke. "OK, what's the deal? You ain't gonna have any of your own whiskey?"

"Don't be such a buzzkill, Liz, we're just tryin' to relax." Angela pulled a cigarette out of my pack, and held out her hand for my lighter.

"Save that weed for later, Angel." One of the other guys piped up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint, shooting a wicked grin at Curly. "Pass me your lighter, doll." He nodded his head toward me.

I kept my mouth shut as they passed it around, and felt a rush of relief when I watched Margaret nearly hack up a lung after taking her first hit. It's not that I had never been around the stuff before, I even tried it with Jeanie once or twice, but I had told myself that I'd be flying under the radar. Sharing a joint with multiple members of the Shepard gang, in an abandoned lot, wasn't really keeping a low profile.

But before I had time to think it through, I reached out to Margaret, who had taken another hit and looked like she might be sick from all the coughing she did. I didn't want to look like a chicken in front of Angela, and I also remembered how fun this kind of thing could be, so I didn't hesitate to take my first hit, or my second, or third. The roach burned out quickly between six people, so Curly's friends lit up another one. "This one's just for you girls, alright?" Curly said, then handed it to Angela. I felt too warm to second guess him.

Once the three of us finished the second one, I heard a high-pitched giggle from Margaret. "Oh…my god—you guys—", she giggled again, "—it feels like I have an exoskeleton!"

I couldn't for the life of me remember what an exoskeleton was, but I started laughing so hard that I nearly toppled over myself onto the ground.

Angela snorted. "What! Exo-what-did-you-just-say?" All three of us started cackling.

Margaret walked closer to me and clutched my shoulder, trying to calm her own laughs. "Let's go get milkshakes."

I managed to straighten myself up, wiping the tears that started to leak out of the corners of my eyes. "OK." I said, the rivalry between us forgotten.

Curly shook his head and smiled at us. "Y'all feelin' good? C'mon let's go."

Angela, Margaret and I slid into the backseat. I grabbed my pack of kools from Angela and lit one up, feeling as though my body was melting into the upholstery of the black chevy. I tilted my head as much as I could toward Angela, and took another drag. "Are we gonna go get milkshakes?"

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Fuck, I hope so."

I vaguely wondered what was taking the guys so long to get into the car, but a second later I heard the doors shut. Curly turned the key in the ignition, and a Jimi Hendrix song started oozing out of the speakers. I felt the electric guitar vibrating through every inch of my body, punctuating in my fingertips and toes. I could barely keep my cigarette held between my index and middle finger, and luckily Margaret took it out of my grasp to take a few drags.

I couldn't tell how long we had been driving, my thoughts began to meld together, I wondered if I might have drifted off once or twice. When the door closest to me was opened, and one of Curly's friends helped me out, I was fully prepared to order a milkshake at whatever diner we had driven to. But when I really took a good look around, we were in a neighborhood, and not the kind of neighborhood a greaser would bum around in.

"Alright, Ang, remember what I told you. Keep 'em occupied, we'll try to be in 'n out in—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Curly, whatever. I just really want a fuckin' milkshake."

Curly smirked at her. "This goes well I'll buy you two milkshakes afterward."

"What are y'all talkin' about?" I asked, which was no easy task considering my mouth felt like it was glued shut.

"I babysit here. We're meeting some people inside." Margaret said, before nonchalantly heading across the pristine lawn.

I tried to protest, knowing I was not in the state to be around strangers, but Angela linked her arm with mine, and began to drag me after Margaret.

The house itself was nicer than anything I could ever even dream of living in. A white paneled exterior, with a big porch and green shutters, the landscaping in the front was a little too manicured for my taste. The front door was black, with an intricate glass insert and a brass knocker that Margaret grasped firmly. She got away with four hard knocks before the door flung open. A middle-aged man looked at three of us, affronted, the face of a man who was definitely not expecting company.

"Margaret, what on earth…the kids aren't even here right now." He wore a checkered button down underneath a blue cardigan, with brown pants, just so I knew how much of an asshole he was.

"Is your wife home?" I assumed Margaret was trying to sound flirtatious, but to me she just sounded way too high to be caught in the middle of whatever scheme Curly was playing at. Hell, I was way too high for it.

The man in the door sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Margaret, I think you have the wrong idea…you're with your friends…are you even sober?"

"Is she?"

He looked at Angela and I warily. "No…but, Margare—"

"Oh, Mr. Edwards, relax." Margaret said in a soothing voice, placing her palm on the middle of his chest so she could move further into the house. "I brought them for you, I thought you'd like them."

Mr. Edwards looked again toward Angela and I, still unsure, but curious enough to eye both of our racks for a decent amount of time. Margaret kissed him while he was distracted, deep enough that it made me feel funny to watch her do it. After that Mr. Edwards' will seemed to crumble, he let Margaret take him by the hand and lead him down the entry hall of the house. I took one last look outside, before Angela shut the door, but Curly and his boys were nowhere in sight.

We followed Margaret and Mr. Edwards to what I guessed must be the living room. Margaret guided him over to a leather armchair, and pushed him to sit down with the little strength that she had.

"Now you just wait here, I'm gonna make you somethin' to relax." She almost teetered over on her way over to his drinks tray, and looked up toward Angela and I once her back was fully turned to him. She bit her lip, and started giggling, making a good attempt to keep her shoulders from shaking. Normally the whole situation would've been just too weird for me to laugh at, but I was still stoned, so if Mr. Edwards pulled a revolver out of the front of his jeans and started shooting at me, I'd probably laugh at that too.

He shot us a funny look. "What're you girls giggling about?"

Margaret started walking back toward him with the drink in her hand. Another bout of laughter erupted from my chest when I realized that she had just poured Peach Schnapps into a glass with a couple of ice cubes. She handed him the drink, which Mr. Edwards took, then smelled and grimaced.

"You don't like the drink I made for you?"

He looked up at her, sighed, then took a long sip, trying his best not to pucker his mouth once he swallowed. He nodded unconvincingly. "It's great, thank you, Margaret."

Angela grabbed me by the elbow and led me over to the armchair. She deposited me behind it, took my hands and planted them on Mr. Edwards shoulders. He stiffened up initially, to which I instinctively began to rub out the tension. Margaret kneeled down between his legs, and placed her hands on his thighs, massaging up and down them. "Would you like it if we helped you relax?"

"I don—oh…" Margaret cut him off by unbuttoning his pants, with her teeth. I widened my eyes, but continued to massage his shoulders, pressing so hard out of shock that there was no way he could have enjoyed it.

Mr. Edwards downed the rest of his drink, then let himself sink into the chair, Margaret shimmied his pants down to his ankles. She left his boxers on and stood up to kiss him. It felt like they kissed for a minute or two straight, which would have made me squirm under normal circumstances.

Gradually, his shoulders began to go slack under my grip, and his head lolled to the back of the armchair, brushing against my stomach. I looked down at him bewildered, then back up to Margaret and Angela. "Did you slip him somethin'?"

Margaret kneeled back down between his legs, and began to drag his underwear down his legs as best she could. "Sure did, he'll be out for a couple hours."

I furrowed my brow once she had him completely naked from the waist down. "What are you doin'?"

"He'll be suspicious when he comes to if I don't." I turned away once she spat in her open palm and began to hold him.

I nodded toward Angela, feeling especially disturbed. "You wanna go raid the fridge?" She grinned and nodded at me.

As we walked through the nearest doorway to find our way to the kitchen, we heard, "Get me somethin' too!" from the living room.

The two of us got separated after the first wrong door we opened, which looked like some sort of guest bedroom. I wandered around the main floor, finding two bathrooms, a linen closet, and finally opening up the door to what must have been Mr. Edwards study. When I caught Curly digging through the drawers of the mahogany desk, I nearly jumped out of my own skin.

"Jesus! So this is why y'all brought us here?"

"Rich fucker," he said as he pulled out a case of cigars, "I knew he would have some of these." Curly kept rummaging around for other treasures, so I turned to continue my search for food.

Before I could make it out the door, Curly had turned me around and wrapped his hands around my waist. He smirked down at me. "Why don't we pick up where we left off last weekend?"

The warmth of his palms against my torso felt nice, and for the first time I wasn't thinking about Don. But I wanted ice cream, at that point it felt almost like an obsession, I would never think of anything else until I got it.

He silenced my thoughts by kissing me, open mouthed and sloppy. He turned us around so my back faced the desk, then pushed me up on top of it so that he could position himself between my legs. Things were moving fast, Curly had yanked my shirt over my head and was pawing at the hooks of my bra.

"Ain't you worried your socy girlfriend's gonna walk in?" He didn't stop upon hearing me, but pressed warm kisses to my neck.

He spoke lowly into my ear. "Don't care, just needed her to get into this house. 'Sides," he planted another deep kiss on my lips, "how can I bother with anyone else, when a hot little thing like you is around?"

It was a stupid line, but I was too far gone at that point with the weed and the booze, to give hitting the brakes a second thought.

He dropped my bra on the floor, and I didn't even care that the doors to the office weren't locked.

For all his talk, Curly sure didn't last long in the sack. We had finished, gotten dressed, and headed outside of the office in search of the kitchen again. Still, I was high enough to enjoy the short time it lasted. I had never had sex with a boy my own age, and the thing I liked most was the little noises he made when he came undone. It made him seem sweeter somehow, more vulnerable.

We found Angela sitting on the kitchen counter, eating straight out of a tub of Neapolitan Ice Cream. She looked up at us after shoving another spoonful into her mouth. "Where've you been, I got you a spoon."

I hopped onto the counter to join her, digging out a spoonful as quickly as I could. After taking my first bite, I was more satisfied than Curly Shepard could ever make me. I groaned and scooped out another. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Curly looked at us and rolled his eyes, he had already lit one of the cigars he pilfered from Mr. Edwards office. "Margaret about done yet?" Angela and I shrugged. "'Cause we're about done here."

"Did y'all get the jewelry?" Angela questioned.

"Yup."

"Silver?"

"Mhmm."

"Y'all didn't take too much right?" I asked. "'Cause if they notice something's gone, then us girls are in for it."

"Don't you worry about a thing, baby, we got it covered." Somehow I doubted a guy with the IQ of Curly Shepard had it covered, but I was still fuzzy and relaxed and I decided not to spoil it anymore.

"Oh, ice cream!" Margaret cried once she walked into the kitchen. I felt bad for her, knowing now that she was just an asset for Curly. But then again, what was I?

Curly wound up pulling the chevy into the garage, at Angela's request, so none of their neighbors would catch a couple of JDs piling silver and candlesticks into the trunk of a beat up car. Us girls sat in the back again, but we decided to drop Margaret off at her house right after, since she was starting to doze off on Angela's shoulder. Curly caught me doing the same in his rearview mirror, and suggested I go home too, but I asked if we could stop off somewhere so I could sober up a little bit more.

Of course that detour had to be at the Dingo. The rational part of my mind knew I had a good chance of running into Two-Bit, or even Steve, inside.

"Let's just sit on the hood and smoke for a while." I said to Angela. "I need to cool it, otherwise my brothers'll send me to a convent."

"Y'all ain't Catholic."

"They'd still do it."

Curly flipped up the collar of his jean jacket once he had stepped out of the car. "We're headin' inside." And then they walked away, no, y'all want anything, no nothing. At least I knew the kind of person I had just slept with.

Angela and I sat in comfortable silence, riding the dregs of our high. I had gone through one and a half cigarettes when I finally heard her voice from beside me.

"Don't get too cut up if he's got a different chick on his arm tomorrow."

I didn't turn to look at her, just took another drag. "I wouldn't."

"Between you 'n me, I only think he gets as much as he does 'cause he's Tim's kid brother. It's like currency to all of 'em."

I sat there for a while and thought about why I hooked up with Curly. I sure as hell didn't see it as currency, in fact I was going to have to do everything in my power to make sure he didn't go blabbing loud enough that it got around to my big brothers. So why did I do it? Curly was cute but nothing special looks-wise. He wasn't smart and he definitely wasn't a gentleman. Maybe I was just desperate to feel something.

Darry's truck wasn't parked next to the curb in front of our house when Curly dropped me off. Meaning he probably picked up an extra shift at work. Before I walked up to my house I leaned in Curly's window, I think he expected me to give him a kiss, but instead I whispered in his ear, "Word gets around to my brothers and they'll break both your legs."

He laughed when he heard that, but nodded grudgingly. "See ya, 'Lil Lizzy." He sped away before I had a chance to smack him upside the head. I still hated the way he called me that.

Soda had come outside on the porch by the time I made it up the steps. He looked down our street in the direction they'd driven off in, thankfully Curly had a led foot.

"Did I just hear a car pull out?"

I nodded. "Yeah, some chevy parked in front of Mary Ella's house."

"What was it doin' there?"

I shot him an incredulous look. "How should I know?"

I moved past him into the doorway, and headed toward the kitchen, realizing I hadn't had a proper drink of water in several hours. He followed close behind me, and watched me from the doorway, looking tough as he leaned against the frame. "Why weren't you here when I got back?"

"I went for a walk, just needed to get out of the house." I said to him innocently. "I didn't go too far, I promise. Somethin' wrong?" I added, once I noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Somethin'…ain't right…" he trailed off.

"Well, I don't know what you're talkin' about. I think I'm gonna go shower."

He blocked my path toward my bedroom. "Seriously, Lizzy, what's up?"

I groaned. "Nothing's up," and I know what I said next was a low blow, but I was starting to feel crowded and antsy the way he was grilling me, I would've done anything to get him off of my back, "maybe you're just takin' your late night talks with Ponyboy a little too seriously."

He didn't try to keep me from walking out then. I looked back before I shut the door to my bedroom. He had sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hand.