After I left the DX, I decided to go home. There wasn't much else I could do, except wander around for a few hours. Everyone else in the gang was busy. At least until the Curtis family got out of church. I sometimes wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Curtis insisted that they attend church every week while other parents didn't seem to care about it as much. My folks certainly didn't care if I went to church or not. As far as I knew, they only went to church for my aunt's wedding and maybe a funeral or two.

I arrived at my house and opened the front door to find the usual scene of broken bottles on the floor. My old man was sleeping on the couch like he usually did. He didn't even wake up when I closed the door behind me and walked past him on my way to my bedroom. It was almost as if I was walking in the eye of a tornado because I knew from experience that once he was up and drinking, the storm would get bad again and if I stuck around, I would get sucked into it.

"Where are you going?"

I stopped outside my parent's room and looked inside to see my mother looking at me. "To my room. I need to change clothes."

"Well, would you mind going out and getting me a pack of cigarettes?" She asked and I stared at her because it wasn't often that she spoke to me in a calm voice like that. "Just take the money out of my purse and pick up some of that candy your father likes. You know, the black licorice instead of the red?"

"Yes, I know," I replied, feeling a little confused by the conversation. Normally, I wasn't asked to do anything, instead I was commanded to do it. So, to have my mother act calm and even a little nice towards me felt funny.

I decided to get the money and go get the cigarettes and candy before she changed her mind. Besides, I needed to get cigarettes for myself anyway. As I left the house, I looked over my shoulder, half expecting my father to suddenly wake up and demand where I was going, but he didn't.

There was a corner store about a half mile from my house. The owner was one of the few adults who didn't mind having greasers enter the store. I wasn't sure if it was because he needed the business or if he just liked having young people around would at least pretend to listen to his stories about what life was like when he was growing up. He never seemed to notice when Dally would make comments under his breath or if Two-Bit swiped something off the counter.

"How can I help you today, Johnny?" He asked. That was another nice thing about the store. The owner took the time to call you by name.

"I just came for two packs of Camels and some black licorice," I replied.

"Haven't seen you around here lately," he said as he put everything into a small paper bag.

"I haven't had much money to spend," I said.

"I know what that's like," he told me. "Have I ever told you about the Great Depression?"

He had, but I shook my head anyway. I knew he enjoyed telling his stories and I figured it wouldn't hurt if I waited a few minutes before going back home with the cigarettes and candy. Soon, he was telling me about his days in the war.

"I should let you go," he said once he was finished. "Don't want your folks worrying about you."

I mumbled a quick thanks and left the store. It only takes about ten minutes to get home from the corner store.

"What took you so long?" My mom asked when I handed her the cigarettes and candy.

"Long line," I replied, even though I had been the only person there.

"That Curtis kid came asking for you," she said as she opened her pack of cigarettes. "He seems like a nice boy. Very polite."

"He is," I said.

"Too bad he's a little hoodlum like all your other friends," mom commented and I bit my tongue to keep from saying something back. Ponyboy wasn't a hoodlum. Maybe Dally was, but not Ponyboy.

"I'm going to go see what he wanted," I said, even though I knew I didn't have to. I can leave the house whenever I want. My folks didn't even care if I returned home at all. Half the time, they barely noticed when I was there, which was why it surprised me when my mom asked me to go get cigarettes. Usually, she'd just go out and get them herself as a reason to get away from my father.

I walked to Ponyboy's house, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. When I got there, I saw Mrs. Curtis working on her flower bed.

"Is Ponyboy home?" I asked.

Mrs. Curtis looked up and smiled. "He's in his room. Do you think your mom would like a few mums? You could bring them home with you later."

"I don't know if my mom likes flowers," I replied. The only flowers I ever saw in our yard were the dandelions that grew in the spring. I used to pick them for my mom when I was little just like the kids did for their moms. I don't remember if she put them in water or not. Maybe she just threw them into the trash.

I walked inside the house and went to Ponyboy's room, knocking on the door befor entering.

"You didn't have to knock," Ponyboy said when I closed the door behind me. "No one else does."

"I hear you came to my house."

"Yeah, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over," Ponyboy told me. "You're mom didn't seem to like me much."

"She asked me to get cigarettes," I said. "That's why I wasn't home."

"I thought she was going to scream at me to leave," he said. "I don't like going to your place. I'd rather go to Steve's and here his old man yell at him, even though I know that isn't right either."

I looked out the window and saw Darry helping Mr. Curtis with some yard work. "My mom was almost nice to me today."

Ponyboy looked at me. He knows that I want my parents to love and accept me. That I want nothing more than to have a family like his. It wasn't that he had a perfect family, but compared to mine, it was pretty close.

"That's good."

"I wish it could be like that all the time," I commented. "No yelling. No fighting. It was a nice change."

"Too bad it'll go back to how it usually is," Ponyboy said for me and I nodded.

Things always went back to how they usually were. It wasn't often that either my folks were somewhat nice to me. Every time they were, I had a glimmer of hope that they'd continue to be nice and that the fighting and abuse would finally stop. I knew that I shouldn't get my hopes up, but I always did. Despite the reality of my situation always coming back to hit me, I always had hope that things would eventually change for the better. Maybe it was that little bit of hope that kept me going. I wasn't sure if I had much else to help me survive, except for maybe my friends.