Author's Note: HUGE thank you goes out to Hahukum Konn for once again doing beta work on this chapter. I swear, if you didn't take the time you do to read over my chapters then they'd be a complete mess. I love you for nitpicking! Any errors found in this chapter are my own doing after editing. :P Enjoy!
Disclaimer: As always, The Outsiders belongs to Susie Hinton and the quote at the beginning is taken from the song "Laugh, I Nearly Died" by the Rolling Stones. *hint* I don't own that either.
~I've been wandering, feeling all alone
I lost my direction and I lost my home ~
December 7th 1965
Apparently, gas stations in the sixties serve as brothels during the off hours; at least, that was my reasoning for the huddle of gooey eyed females. They'd flooded the DX parking lot in a mass of estrogen and hairspray. It looked as though they were there for one reason and one reason only, and that was for the handsome-faced blond. The girls crowded about him in the cold, tripping over one another to get a better look-see. It was a pathetic site to behold. I mean, hadn't those girls ever heard of playing hard to get?
Unfortunately for myself, I was stuck with what I assumed was the not-so-attractive DX employee known only to me as Steve. It wasn't as though he'd introduced himself or anything; he was a little too abrasive for my liking. I'd had to read it on his oil-stained work shirt.
I'd had a tow truck bring in the crippled Mustang. The moment it came through the DX Steve's eyes had bulged all fish-like in his head. He stood by the garage as they brought it in, hands swirling strands of his greasy curls. Not washing your hair seemed to be quite common for some of the boys in Tulsa. Really, why wash with shampoo when you could just dump a gallon of pomade on your hair?
I stood at the mouth of the garage, craning my neck to get a look inside. I'd been there since school had let out, that had been nearly three hours earlier. It was cold outside, the wind was harsh and I was getting cranky.
A loud, metal banging sound echoed through the garage. Steve cursed to himself, slamming some type of tool down on the cement floor. I watched, stomach rolling anxiously.
"Don't break my car," I warned him.
"I ain't breakin' it. You did that yourself," Steve hollered back from beneath the twisted heap of metal.
I bit my lip. Hands twisting in my yellow scarf, I peered into the dimly lit cave, wrinkling my nose at the smell.
"Don't think I'm tipping you, 'cause I'm not!" my voice shook, not quite as confident as I'd have liked.
Steve yelled back, "Good, I don't need your damn charity, now would ya shut up? I can't work when you're yammerin' in my ear like that."
I stormed off, moving from the garage and making my way across the empty lot. It was dark, the sun having set almost an hour earlier. I'd have been walking blind were it not for the neon DX sign that hung overhead. It created a faintly lit path for me that I followed all the way to the huddle of adolescent girls.
"Move, get out of my way…" I grunted and pushed against the wall of horny females. "Come on, are you serious? Just…ugh…get out…ugh…"
I barreled through them, elbows connecting with soft, fleshy parts and feet trampling over unprotected toes. I didn't mean to be so rough but they'd refused to clear a path and I was on a mission to save the Mustang from total destruction. I'd be damned if I was to stay in this era without ever getting a chance to drive it.
I stumbled out of the huddle and right into the lean, muscled back of the blond DX employee. My added weight sent us toppling forward.
"Glory…" he exclaimed.
He caught himself in time and even managed to save me from the embarrassment of face-planting the asphalt. Strong arms encircled my waist, dragging me back into an upright position.
I brushed nonexistent dirt from my coat and tried to reclaim whatever dignity I had left. The situation was only made worse by the way he was watching me. I hoped he didn't think clumsiness was a common thing for me. He was standing so close I assumed he was getting ready to catch me in case I decided to trip again.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, still dusting off my coat. "I lost my footing and…uh, tripped."
"S'alright, girls can't help fallin' for me."
He grinned, brown eyes dancing. With that one look I understood why half the women of Tulsa bothered to stand out in the cold for him. The boy had charm.
"Well, it sure ain't your modesty they're fallin' for, Sodapop," a familiar voice teased.
It can't be…
"Muscles?'
I shifted my gaze and there he stood my friendly neighborhood giant. His long hair had been tousled by the wind and his arm muscles bulged beneath his jacket. My eyes strayed to his bottom half, lingering too long on his tight jeans.
God, I'm a sick person.
"You're light on your feet," he said.
His voice snapped me back to attention. I lifted my gaze, cheeks flushed, afraid he'd caught me staring.
"Why are you here? Are you stalking me or something?" I said, voice thick and words rushed.
He smirked. "It ain't always about you, you know."
My face went five more shades of red.
"I was stoppin' in to see my brother, he's gotta work tonight." He nodded at the blond. "What about you, you been followin' me around? Should I be gettin' the fuzz down here?"
"No…"
I tried, but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I was at the gas station. The boy made me flustered. The level-headed, grown woman I knew I was didn't exist when he was around. She got pushed to the back of my mind, leaving me to look like a bumbling idiot.
Steve cursed from clear across the parking lot. The sound was still loud enough to make me jump. That was all I needed to get back in the game.
I forced myself to look serious. In a determined voice I said, "That's the reason I'm here."
"You're here for Steve?" He sounded surprised. I saw him tense up, eyes looking in the direction of the garage.
"What, no," I said. "I brought my car here to get fixed, though I doubt it ever will with that lunatic working on it."
"Is that all? Well, you don't have to worry. Steve knows his way 'round cars better than anyone I know."
A sudden bang erupted from the garage. The clang of metal hitting cement echoed in the night air.
"Christ Almighty!"
I cringed and turned anxiously in the direction of my car. I was expecting an explosion, a rolling cloud of orange flames to come bursting from the mouth of the garage. I couldn't imagine anything good as a result of Steve working on the Mustang.
The two Curtis boys were just standing around when I turned back to face them, neither one bothering to speak up.
"Thanks for the help," I said sarcastically. "Now my car is kaput for good."
I was back to twisting my scarf around my hands. I left the two men where they were, not saying a word as I moved out of the parking lot and headed toward the road. I'd spent enough time loitering around the DX. It was all just proving to be a waste of my time; I would just have to hope and pray that Greasy Steve didn't kill my Mustang for good.
The wind blew strong and cold, tearing through my thin coat. It was a fancy piece of outerwear, with its gold-colored buttons and periwinkle blue fabric. It was easy on the eyes but did nothing to keep me warm.
My legs felt like rubber. Calves cramping and feet aching, I didn't stop walking until I reached the nearest bus stop. It wasn't very far from the gas station but I'd been standing around for what seemed like hours, watching that idiot try and fix my car. Every step I took made me regret having ever disobeyed my parents.
Truth was, there was a dinner party going on that very moment. Deep within the hells of Suburbia, people were sipping back cocktails and chatting about the stock market. A light, rose-colored dress had been laid out for me on my bed that morning. It wasn't my color, and the thought of having to put it on for the sole purpose of impressing a bunch of rich snobs from the sixties, made me sick to my stomach.
So, there I was, standing at a bus stop, in a shady part of Tulsa, freezing my ass off. I smiled in spite of my suffering as I imagined the looks on their faces when I didn't show for dinner. There'd be a punishment waiting for me once I made it home, but I was sure I could handle it. I was already grounded due to cutting classes on Wednesday and there were very few things they could do to increase my suffering in this world.
The road leading into town remained silent for a long while. It felt as though I'd spent forever waiting for the bus, when in fact I knew it had only been a few minutes. The cold didn't help make the waiting any more bearable.
I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, hoping to warm my frozen legs. I'd thrown on a tacky grey skirt and some goofy-looking checkered tights in addition to the woefully inadequate jacket I wore. There weren't very many pairs of pants in my closet and zero pairs of jeans. Where I was from you layered up when you left the house in winter and at that moment I'd have given my left arm for a pair of Long Johns.
A thin layer of snow covered the street and it crunched softly beneath a set of sneakers. The sound startled me from my thoughts. I turned, staring apprehensively at the large shadow making its way down the road. The size of him should have tipped me off right away.
"I hope you ain't plannin' on catchin' the bus from here," he said.
The husky drawl of his voice made me relax. It seemed strange that I would feel comforted by its familiarity.
"That was the plan."
Darry cupped his hands to his mouth, blowing warm air against the palms. The jacket he wore, though bulky as it was, didn't look all that warm. The material was worn thin in parts and it looked as though it had been mended several times in the past. I couldn't help thinking how cold he must have been, but he never complained. He just kept blowing hot hair against his hands, a smile on his face.
"You're gonna be waitin' for a while then. The buses are always late comin' by this part of town."
"Great, so I can either walk home or stay here and become the world's first human Popsicle."
That was just my luck. Disobey my parents by ditching some hoity-toity dinner party and what happens? The bus that was supposed to take me home was going to come and get me whenever it felt like it.
Clearing his throat, Darry said. "If it's going to be all that much trouble for you, I can just give ya a ride home."
I was sure I'd misheard him; he couldn't have just offered me a ride, not after all our arguments, after the time I'd supposedly hit him with my Mustang. I was sure he thought I was an idiot, an obnoxious rich kid and here he was, offering me a ride? It had to be a joke; he had to get some kind of sick pleasure out of this.
"What's the catch?" I said, eyeing him suspiciously.
His eyebrows knitted with confusion, "Why does there have to be a catch?"
"I don't know; there just always is." There I was, getting flustered again.
"Well, there ain't one. I just thought you'd like not bein' a human Popsicle, but if you don't want the ride…"
"Oh, I'll take the ride," I cut in. "I'm just want to make sure you don't try anything funny."
"Funny how?" he asked.
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Just don't try anything weird because I took a Tae Bo class once and I am not afraid to use my moves on you. I've taken down guys twice your size before."
It wasn't a complete lie. I had taken a Tae Bo lesson once, but that was from the comfort of my own home, mimicking the moves from a battered VHS tape. I'd only watched it one time and then tossed it in the trash. As for taking down full grown men, well that was another lie all together.
I couldn't tell if he believed me or not but he did distance himself from me once we started heading toward his house. I think he did it more to reassure me than for his own protection. I was a midget compared to him. He could have slung me over his shoulder and I'd be powerless to stop him.
"The walk ain't too long," he was saying, shooting a glance my way.
I was dragging my feet, having given up on taking actual steps long ago.
"I'll just have to run in and get the keys for the truck, but then I can take ya home."
"It's all good," I mumbled back to him. "I appreciate this…you know, after all the crap I've put you through. You're a good guy, Muscles."
He smiled. "Darry's just fine, you know. You don't have to keep callin' me Muscles if you don't want to."
I smiled back. "Yeah, but I want to, Muscles."
Our walk ended several minutes later. We came to a stop outside a rusted metal fence that encircled a weather-beaten house. One side of the yard acted as a burial ground for half-assembled no-longer-working vehicles. The rest of the yard was covered in snow, though burnt, uncut grass poked out in parts, breaking through the white.
Darry faltered at the gate, his fingers wound through the loops in the chain-link fence, staring up at the house. After a moments hesitation he turned back to me, face unreadable.
"You might as well wait here; it'll only be a minute," he said.
"What, I'm not allowed to go in with you?"
He tensed.
"You hiding something in there?" I asked. "Dead bodies buried beneath the floorboards?"
"You got some imagination," he said, almost like it was a bad thing to have.
"Well, then why can't I come in?"
Without a word, he turned his back on me, fingers tightening around the loops of the fence before pushing open the gate. I followed after him, limping on sore feet, trying to keep pace with his long, hurried strides.
The screen door rattled when he opened it. He stepped across the threshold, keeping one arm outside to stop the door from closing in front of my face. I smiled at the gesture, bending under the outstretched arm as I entered the house.
Warm, cinnamon-laced air filled the small home. I stood in the entrance, relishing the smell.
"Darrel, is that you?"
A woman's voice carried from somewhere inside. Darry kicked off his shoes, letting them tumble in a messy heap on the floor. They were scuffed, dirty looking things, with chewed laces and the soles worn down.
"No, it's me, Ma," he called back.
For the first time in what felt like too long of a time, he turned to me.
"You gotta take your shoes off if you're plannin' on comin' in," he said.
"Oh, right. Sorry."
I slipped them off, setting them one beside the other. If it were my house I wouldn't have cared where I put them but I was a guest and that meant neatness and perfection.
The front entrance led into a sparsely decorated living room. It held only the basics: an old fashioned TV, a couch and chair. The carpet was well used and felt rough, almost itchy beneath my socked feet. Despite all of this, it still held a certain charm. The walls were covered in family photos, a newspaper was scattered on the arm of the chair, the room looked lived-in, but in a good way. In the midst of it all, a stunning, golden haired woman stood, a large, plastic bowl propped against her chest, welcoming me in with a gentle smile.
"Darry, sweetheart, you didn't tell me you were bringing a…friend, home for dinner."
Darry shifted all childlike beneath her gaze. "I'm just giving Lauren a ride home, Ma."
Her blue eyes fell upon me, warm and inviting like the rest of the house. She flitted towards me, crossing the room with the sort of grace not often associated with mothers.
"Well, it's nice to meet you dear. I can't say my son has ever mentioned you," she leveled Muscles a mothering look.
Darry shifted again. I laughed. "It's fine, really. We've only met a few days ago."
"Lauren's the girl who damaged the pickup," Darry added.
Dude, way to kill my first impression.
However, the comment didn't seem to affect a thing. She pushed the bowl into one arm, letting it rest against her shoulder. It was filled with a thick, dark substance that looked an awful lot like unbaked cake.
"Now, then, I guess he has told me about you," she said and waved me toward her, one arm extended in waiting.
I hesitated and glanced over at Darry. His face had turned a slight shade of red, though you could hardly tell and if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was embarrassed. That sort of thing just didn't seem possible for the stoic giant. He avoided my eyes, shrinking away as if to disappear into the backdrop.
I stepped into the woman's awaiting arm, tensing when she draped it around me. The gesture felt foreign, too rushed when it was someone I hardly knew, yet she had a way about her that made it seem natural. After a moment I relaxed, breathing in the scent of what was definitely chocolate cake mix.
"You'll have to excuse the mess," she started saying as she led us through the house. "I've been cooking up a storm."
Several pots cooked on several different temperatures on the Curtis stove. One of them was bubbling with a thick brown sauce, which seemed to be the source of all the cinnamon I'd smelled earlier.
"Ma, she likes her cinnamon." Darry smiled, nodding his head at the pot. "Cooks it everyday on the stove, that's why the house smells so funny."
He winked playfully and his mom lifted a spatula in warning.
"If it weren't for my cinnamon you and your brothers would have this place smelling like unwashed socks."
Turning to me she continued, "So, dear, are you planning to stay for dinner? I've made enough spaghetti here to feed an army."
Darry sighed. "Ma, I told you already, I've got to take Lauren home."
"Well, can't that wait until after she's eaten? Besides, how do you plan on going anywhere without a running vehicle?" she said.
"That's what the pickup is for."
She shook her head, a smile creeping on her lips. "Your father's using it. Gone out to get a few things I forgot at the grocery store. You'll be able to take Lauren home as soon as he gets back, but by then you'll both be starved. Might as well just stay for dinner and then head out."
I should have refused the offer. I wasn't sure how Darry felt about me staying over for dinner; I didn't want to make things awkward. Then again, I was really taking a shine to his mom. She had this way about her; it reminded me of my own mother, the one I'd left back in the real world. So, instead of protesting like I knew I should, I remained silent, accepting the invitation with a polite smile.
Darry disappeared soon after, excusing himself to change into a cleaner shirt, though I saw nothing wrong with the one he had on. Mrs. Curtis ushered me toward the stove, dangling a spoon in front of my face and pointing me to a pot of spaghetti sauce. At least I wouldn't be useless.
The older woman multitasked like no one else. She had water boiling for noodles, a pot of sauce cooking on the stove and the oven preheating for a chocolate cake.
She emptied the contents of the large plastic bowl into a cake pan, catching my attention with a smile and a nod.
"I tell you, if my boys had it their way we'd have cake every day of the week."
"Big sweet tooths, huh?" I said.
She laughed. "They're chocolate fiends. I swear I make more chocolate cakes than I do anything else. Soon enough I'll be doing it in my sleep."
Over the next twenty minutes we were able to get dinner ready. Darry didn't make much of an appearance during that time. Every so often I'd catch him poking his head into the room but whenever I turned to say something he was gone again. Our eyes would meet and he'd give me this weird, uneasy look before turning to leave. This went on several times and it got to the point where I started to think I wasn't welcomed, that maybe I really was intruding. His mother didn't seem to mind my company, but maybe I'd overstepped my boundaries. Really, I was only just an acquaintance, if that.
I was setting the table when I heard the front door open. A young man, arms loaded with groceries, entered the room. I stopped what I was doing, one hand still hovering over the newly placed fork. I blinked at the image before me, thinking I must be seeing things.
The man looked exactly like Darry. He was built big and tall and had that same ridiculous hair cut.
When did Darry go out to the store?
Right on cue, the Darry I was familiar with stuck his head into the room. The only reason I knew it was him was because of that dumb black t-shirt he had on again. He knew I hated that thing.
The Darry look-alike had stopped in the doorway; he was staring directly at me. Together beside the Darry I knew, they almost resembled…
Oh, God, please tell me he's not a twin!
Everything had gone quiet in the Curtis house. The two Darrys both watching, waiting for me to say something. I fidgeted under the look.
I placed the stack of plates I was holding down on the table. In two quick strides I approached the new Darry.
With a polite smile, I extended my hand and said, "You must be Darry's older brother."
The young man grinned so wide I thought his cheeks would tear. I fidgeted once more, my hand hanging useless in the air.
"Uh, or you're his younger…brother?" I hesitated.
The Darry I knew beamed at his doppelganger and in the same instant the two of them broke into a chorus of laughter.
Mrs. Curtis who was busy with dinner, turned from the stove, a disapproving look on her face.
"Oh, leave the poor girl alone," she said.
"You're right dear," Darry look-alike said with a smile. He finally took my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm Darrel Curtis."
Wait, what? There are two Darrys?
I must have looked just as confused as I felt because Darry chuckled and said, "He's my dad."
"Oh." My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. "Well, I guess that explains the resemblance."
Mr. Curtis couldn't help laugh about the incident as he put away the groceries. I didn't mind it that much. He seemed like a light-hearted, carefree type of man and it was all in good fun. Albeit, I doubt I'd ever live the moment down.
It wasn't long before I found myself sitting next to Darry, a loaded plate of spaghetti sitting in front of me. Mrs. Curtis must have been under the impression I never ate or something because that woman had piled it high. I wouldn't be able to eat half of what she'd put on my plate.
Darry smirked, nudging my side. Voice low, he whispered, "She must think you eat like me."
"So you're part horse now?" I whispered back.
He grinned and with all the cockiness I remembered from our previous encounters he said, "I'll let you guess what part."
That had been the last thing I expected to come out of the serious-faced young man. My face went bright red, I was sure of it. When I looked up at him, he had a mouthful of noodles and sauce and looked just as calm as ever.
"So, Lauren, is it?" Mr. Curtis' voice pulled me from my embarrassment. "What grade are you in?"
"It's my last year at Will Rogers," I replied. "I'm eighteen, but I've a bit of catching up to do, so I'll be there until school lets out in the summer."
But in 2008 I'm twenty-one and in college if that helps?
"Any plans after high school?"
"Dad, I'm sure Lauren doesn't feel like talking about school…"
"I don't mind," I said, interrupting Darry. "I plan on going into teaching."
"You know, Darry here is on a scholarship from Oklahoma University," Mrs. Curtis chimed in.
Darry lowered his head, focusing for all he was worth on his dinner.
"Mom," he muttered to his plate.
I turned to get a better look at him. All this time I'd thought he was more brawn than brains. His broad shouldered, muscular appearance led me to believe that he was this underdeveloped caveman. I never expected him to be the college driven type. I liked that image of him, head in a book, studying for exams.
"Of course he's saving up until then, what with all those other expenses. You can probably tell we don't have much, but Darry's too stubborn to let that get in his way."
"Jeez," Darry said, so low only I heard it.
"That's right," Mr. Curtis added. "He's a hard worker, our boy. You know he'll be the first Curtis to ever make it to college? Now that's something to be proud of."
Darry's face was pointed so close to the table, I thought he'd drown himself in his meal. His jaw was tight, face a light shade of crimson.
"It's good he has a plan," I responded, because there was nothing else I knew to say.
Things calmed shortly afterward, all you could hear were the sounds of busy mouths working their way through dinner. Darry's younger brother, a kid by the name of Ponyboy remained silent for most of my visit. He sat directly across from me, a head of greasy, reddish-brown hair, too long and unkempt for his cute face. It seemed the entire family had been blessed with good looks.
The boy sat, ears red as tomatoes, catching glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. I pretended not to notice him spying at me from the other end of the table. It was unnerving to say the least. I thought the kid had a problem or something, staring at me like that, like he was studying me.
He's either very shy around girls or a little pervert.
Before I knew it, dinner had ended and we'd licked our plates clean of the chocolate cake for dessert. Darry shrugged his jacket on while I put away the last of the dishes.
"We better get goin' 'fore your folks start to think some juvenile delinquent from the North side kidnapped ya."
I smiled.
Mrs. Curtis gave me a motherly embrace. She muttered her goodbyes and reassured me that I was welcome back any time I wanted.
"It's nice to have another girl around, helps balance out all the testosterone," she said.
I lied and said I'd be sure to stop in again soon, but I doubted that would happen. Darry looked restless standing by the door, truck keys in hand. I felt as though he was anxious to be rid of me.
I said my goodbyes to Mr. Curtis and that strange Pony-kid and followed Darry out into the cold.
We pulled onto the road in silence. Darry gripped the wheel so hard I thought he'd break it. He didn't dare look in my direction. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, hands reaching for the scarf around my neck.
"You fidget a lot," he said, voice rough.
I dropped the piece of yellow fabric.
"There ain't nothin' wrong with it," he added. "Just noticed it is all."
Again the silence trickled in. I had to break it after a few minutes. I cleared my throat loud enough to catch his attention.
"Are you mad at me or something?" I said.
I wasn't going to beat around the bush, might as well ask him straight out.
He reacted quickly enough, answering me in a rush of words. "'Course I ain't mad at you. Why would you think that?"
"You've been acting weird all night and now you aren't saying anything. Should I not have stayed for dinner? Is that it?"
"I told ya, it ain't like that."
"Then how is it?"
He grumbled to himself, not bothering to elaborate any further. I folded my arms across my chest and stared out the passenger side window.
"If that's how it's going to be then," I muttered.
Neither of us spoke a word as we drove through his neighborhood. I wasn't the type of person to stay quiet for very long. The tense silence was eating me up inside, I couldn't take it.
It wasn't until a red traffic light forced the pickup to stop that I broke the silence. My wandering eyes had fallen upon what looked to be an open field. A large, white screen was mounted at the start of it and some distance away from that were several rows of benches. The entire property was surrounded by a tall, metal fence.
Curiosity got the best of me. "What's that?"
Darry snuck a look to where I was pointing. He didn't seem all that impressed at my discovery.
"Oh, that's just the Nightly Double."
I pressed my nose against the glass of the side window, peering out at the field while my excitement grew.
"So, it's a drive-in theatre?" I said. "Like where you can take your car in and everything?"
Darry's husky laugh filled the Ford's small interior. "You act like you've never been to the movies before."
"I have, just not to a drive-in."
The traffic light switched to green and we continued our drive, the theatre passing by my side of the window at a painfully slow rate. I watched it go, vowing to see a movie on its big screen.
"You must see movies there all the time," I said.
Darry shook his head. "I don't like 'em all that much."
I couldn't believe that. How could someone not like to go see a movie?
"Are you insane?" I said. I stared at him, knowing he had to be if he didn't like movies. "How can you not like going to the movies?"
He shrugged. "They're not real."
"So," I snapped.
"So, everyone always looks phony in movies. 'Sides, why should I waste my money watchin' a story about someone else's life when I got problems of my own to worry about?"
"Oh. My. God. You're such a cynic; you're missing the whole point of the movies."
He shrugged again. I was starting to get flustered. I huffed, a dramatic sigh that caught Darry's attention.
"You goin' to be okay?" he asked
I narrowed my eyes. "I just don't understand how you can say that about movies." I sounded pathetic.
"Sorry…" he said.
"Darry, the whole point of going to see a movie is to get a bit of an escape from life's problems. It lets you pretend you're someone else and forget about your worries. It's the same with reading a book."
In a low voice he said, "I don't care much for those either."
By that point we had made it to the other side of town. We were in the middle of Suburbia, passing houses, each one identical to the next. I pointed Darry in the right direction and he nodded wordlessly every time I spoke. A few minutes more and the Ford was pulling down my street.
"So, if you don't like movies and books then what do you do to pass the time?" I asked.
"I don't know, plenty of things: hunting, skiing, football. I took a course over at the YMCA once and learned all sorts of gymnastics."
The truck pulled to a stop next to the curb, parking just a few feet from my house. The lights were off inside and a familiar blue Mustang was sitting in the driveway.
"Well, this is me," I said with a smile.
"My mom really took a liking to you," Darry said. "I'm sure she'd love to have you back again; I think we all would."
"Oh." My smile grew wider. "And who is we?"
"Just my folks and Ponyboy, he seems really taken by you," he teased. "And I wouldn't mind all that much if you hung around, so long as you can remember to tell me apart from my dad."
"Hey, it's not like I did it on purpose." Darry chuckled lightly in response.
All of a sudden the Mustang's headlights turned on, bathing the driveway in a pale, yellow light. The engine turned over, drowning out the remainder of our conversation. A slim, shadowed figure stepped out of the driver's side, though I couldn't tell if it was Randy or not. I assumed it was, because who else would drive his car?
"Guess that's my cue to leave," I said to Darry. "Thanks again for the ride and for dinner."
"You're welcome."
I stepped out of the car and waited by the curb, watching as the beat-up Ford disappeared within the deep, dark pits of Suburbia.
The figure in my driveway headed toward me. The headlights cast him into a pool of light as he walked past and I realized then that this joker wasn't Randy. This boy was definitely older and a lot taller, with hair that was a straight, golden blond, short and combed back.
He smiled at me, closing the last few feet in hurried steps. I didn't even have time to think before I found his arms wrapped about my waist and his lips pressed forcefully against my own.
What the hell…?!
I threw my hands out in a panic, pressing for all I was worth against his chest. Slowly, he parted his lips from my own, a dreaming smile curling them upward.
"God, I've missed you, Lauren."
The words were barely out of his mouth when I whirled around and slapped him hard across the face.
"Try that again and you'll be in for a world of hurt, bud."
Smile gone, he stood, rubbing at the spot on his face where I'd hit him. I hoped it would leave a nasty bruise; that would show him.
"Jesus, Lauren, what's gotten into you?"
"Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just go around thrusting yourself onto girls like that," I said, hands shaking.
"Yeah, but you aren't any girl, you're my girl. Have I been gone that long, you don't even recognize me anymore?"
I didn't understand. Voice thick, I asked, "Who are you again?"
He laughed. "Sweetheart, it's me, Jed. We've been going steady for nearly a year now. What, did you suddenly forget that or something?"
"Uh…well…"