Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders. This story is written for entertainmet, not profit. No copyright infringement nor offense is intended.
A/N: A special thanks to all of those who read and even more thanks to those who took the time to review. It was greatly appreciated! I was happy to see that someone new liked that my story was not just about the boys. I know the cliff hanger was terribly cruel, but it was just irresistable. Yes, I'm sorry, there will be more. I would further like to offer my personal appologies to those of you sincerely reviewed and had to endure reading that classless waste of time politely dubbed a 'flame'. I assure you who cared to know (and one great reader that felt the need to defend me) that there is no reason to worry or even acknowledge such bull. This person creativly copied and pasted the same message to the first chapter of all of my stories for his/her apparent amusement. I doubt they even read it, but thanks for coming to my defense all of the same. Again, real cristism is welcome as are good reviews!
Babygirl
"Yep, it's an original name, but my dad was an original person..."
Chapter 9: Rough All Over
Milly was kind enough to agree to take me to the Quick-Mart to get some flowers for Eugene. This seemed to be as far as her kindness extended, but I was grateful nonetheless. It just so happened that the Quick-Mart was across from the Socs' practice baseball field. Mark's team was practicing there, as I could tell from the color of their uniforms. Mark was pitching, and man was he good! The balls were whizzing over the base like shooting stars. Wouldn't it be something, I mused in my strange mood, if Mark and Sam ended up on the same major league baseball team one day? Could a Soc and grease, I thought, be on the same team?
"May I go over there and wave to the boys from my school?" I asked sweetly, doing my best impersonation of Nelly sucking up.
"No," Came the simple answer. I frowned in response, but said nothing. Quite frankly I was not in the mood. Once inside, I lost Milly in the meat section. Spying that she had the man in the deli cutting her beef, I slipped silently away. Outside, I boldly crossed street alone and stood by the dug-out, fingers through the chain-link fence. Someone asked me, "What are you doing here?"
It was a coach, by the looks of it.
"Watching." I answered, unsure of whether to sound cocky or polite. It showed.
"Hey Baby." It was Mark. I was rescued, I thought, but only for a moment.
"What'd you call her?" the coach snapped.
"That's her name, dad: Babygirl. She's the kid the Denseys' adopted."
"Shut up, boy!" I practically jumped at his tone. "Don't you tell me that stupid lie!"
"Dad, I'm not lying." Mark whined.
"It is my name, sir." I butted in, in an attempt to help.
"Shut up!" He turned on me venomously. "Get your head back in the game boy and stop staring at nosy little girls."
Mark looked down and jogged off to the pitcher's mound again.
"Now you, either stay quiet or get outta here. Go on-get!" He spat.
I had never been talked to like that in my entire life. I had never even heard someone talked to like except maybe once or twice. As much as Milly looked down upon Eugene, I had never heard her be so malicious. My parents had never spoken to anyone like that. My brothers would occasionally cuss out a Soc, but not without reason. Picking on little kids involved scaring and teasing them, not screaming degrading insults. The closest anyone had ever come to being so rude was Steve, as he dispised and looked down on me, but he was no where near this. I at once felt the strangest desire to fall down and cry like a baby.
Instead I took a page out of Dallas Winston's book and, without thinking really, opened my mouth. Hand on hips, as cocky as you please, I said: "Who's gonna make me?"
He didn't respond at first because he was so shocked. I was pretty shocked myself. Then he went sorta beet red and sneered. "I will."
"You and what army?" I leaned against the gate away from him, acting much braver than I felt. How dangerous could it be, anyway? The greaser in me was coming out, and I was proud to see it.
"Little girl," Mark's dad growled, gritting his teeth. "I'm warning you..."
"You're warning me?" I dared to scoff. "Oh- well, then in that case let me take off with my tail between my legs." I rolled my eyes.
He exploded with a yell and rushed the gate, grabbing for my hair. I got away just in time, throwing away my impersonation of Dally and switching to my impersonation of Ponyboy running track. Darting across the road, I spied Milly at the check-out counter. I grabbed some flowers and met her there. To be honest, if I hadn't felt so crummy about Eugene, I would have been real proud of my smooth move.
"Run through the grocery store?" Milly asked, with a cruel eyebrow slightly raised. It was little wonder she was suspicious as I was out of breath.
"No ma'am." I bit back the bitterness at her calm, almost bored facade.
"May I help you with these, ma'am?" a young man asked.
"No thank you. I've got them." I reached forward to help.
The teenage-looking boy looked at her bandaged hand with concern and asked nervously, "Trouble in the kitchen?"
"Yes." Milly said. Why was he being so suspicious? I didn't know about him, but we always cut ourselves in the kitchen, accidently. My brothers and I did it all the time. Well, I did it when Darry let me help. Even my mom used to do it occasionally.
"Are you alright?" That seemed to be more than enough intervention for her. Milly grabbed her bags up swiftly and a little harshly and walked away without so much as a single word. I followed, leaving behind one very disgruntled employee. Looking over my shoulder on the way out the door, I could see the manager fussing at the check-out boy and the boy shrugging and gesturing in response.
I hate hospitals. I hate the way they look. I hate the way they smell. I hate the way they remind me of...things. Once we arrived and made our way through the cold maze of identical halls, I found yet another thing to hate about hospitals. I, being under 12, was not allowed to visit a critical care patient that was a non-relative. Milly went in and had me wait.
My time there was about the most worthless moments of my life. That is until I saw something odd. In fact, it was really odd. The one and only, Mark Scruto was heading down the hall with his father. The man looked gentle and concerned. He had a protective arm wrapped around his son and was speaking so considerately with the doctor, I barely recognized him. Apparently, Mark had twisted his wrist in a little league game, as his father was explaining to an understanding doctor. I knew that look though. That was the look Steve's dad gave him once he sobered up. Even before I understood what it meant I hated it. Now, I was startled to find myself a little afraid. I wasn't sure why, maybe for Mark. At that moment, I knew. Mark's dad had gotten frustrated and grabbed his wrist; now he felt guilty. I sighed as I overheard him offer to take him out for ice cream.
Mark's dad noticed me and I tried as hard as I could to become a chameleon and fade into the bland colors of the wall behind me. I shrunk down in my seat, all bravado gone.
"Does your friend care to join us?" he asked, a tad reluctantly.
"No, thank you. I have to wait here."
"Everyone alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"Glad to see you got your manners back."
He left. Mark stared at me, with a hint of frown. Why, I wondered... Mostly though, I was thinking about whether anyone would notice if I just kicked myself. How could I be so chicken?
I sensed, rather than saw, someone walk up to the desk. At once, I recognized the voice. It was New York accent and that cocky demanding tone that could only belong to one person I knew. Not knowing what else to do, I stared directly at his backside. The man lit a cigarette.
"Sir, you can't smoke in here."
He blew out his smoke a little close to the speaker and said, "Yes I can. I'm doing right here."
"I see that, but you're not allowed." the young nurse quipped. She was either braver than I was or didn't have clue who she was talking to.
"I'm allowed to do anything I want." She sort of made a funny noise and walked away in a huff. It may seem like an awkward response, but if you know Dally you wouldn't think anything of it. I did know Dally. Then it occurred to me: I know Dally!
I stared at him as he stared in the mirror across from him, checking his hair. Spying me just in the corner of his eye he snapped at me with, "What are you staring at, little kid?"
This was my chance to redeem myself, I thought. What I didn't think of was what I was about to do could be considered attempted suicide. I cocked my head a tad and said, "I dunno I think somebody fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down." Now for a 9-year-old against Dallas Winston that was pretty good. He wheeled around fast with his dangerous look on and I froze.
Then his face changed and he said: "BABYGIRL CURTIS!"
"Hey Dally."
"I outta bust your little face."
"Sorry. I was trying to get your attention." He laughed a little.
"It worked. Hey, are you here to see Johnny?"
"What? Oh! No, I'm here to see Eugene." I answered automatically.
"Who?"
"Eugene." Before I could explain the nurse came in a ushered him forth into a room. He grabbed me lightly and pulled me towards it.
"Wait. She can't go in there."
"What do you mean 'She can't go in there'?" Dally snapped.
"She's underage."
"Underage? I'm not trying to buy her a drink she wants to see our friend."
"Children under twelve are not allowed in these rooms."
"Children under twelve?"
"Yes." she said shortly.
"Well then there's no problem. She's 22."
"I doubt that."
"She a midget then. You callin' me a liar? Get outta here!"
Although I didn't get to see Eugene, I did get to see Johnny, but when I did, I wished I hadn't. He looked bad and could barely talk through the pain. He had to lay on his stomach with a bunch of noise machines and wires poking in him. His hair was in rough tufts and his skin looked like a grilled tomato. It hurt to see it.
"Hi Johnny." I said softly.
"Babygirl! You doin' alright?" he managed, hoarse.
"I'm fine." I sniffled in spite of myself.
"Socs treating you okay?"
"It's okay. I want to go home though."
"Yeah. I know."
"Johnny, Two-Bit's gonna bring Pony by later." Dally offered.
"You out yet Dally?"
"No, but I will be before the rumble." He assured his friend.
Just a few moments later I heard Milly's voice and Johnny was drifting off, so I quietly slipped out.
Milly folded her arms over her bags and coat and insisted we leave.
Back on the south side that evening I was lying down thinking over everything that had happened. It was probably the third most eventful day of my life. I had no brothers or Eugene to talk about it to and would have to wait to speak to Nelly or Miles. I had only just considered talking to John or maybe even Milly when I heard a loud thud from below. I jumped.
Another one soon followed and, naturally, I slipped off my bed and went to the door to take a look. From the landing at the top of the stairs, it seemed that the sound was coming from John's office. Voices could be heard as well, muffled but harsh.
I walked slowly downwards, feeling as tired as John had looked the past few days and gently knocked on the door. A few raps later, it opened to reveal a disgruntled looking John, tie askew and brow dotted with sweat beads, he leaned over me and demanded, "What do you need?"
"What's going on?" I ventured.
"Nothing. Go straight to bed, unless your hungry. Marie will get you something from the kitchen. Goodnight."
He shut the door and I heard, distinctly glass shatter. My gut feel with it's pieces. No longer hungry, and more than a little disturbed, I ran back up-stairs. Panting on my bed, I thought hard and angrily.
This was not supposed to happen. I was frightened. My brothers wanted me safe on the south side. Sure, I hadn't been jumped, but this sort of thing was only supposed to happen on the north side. These rough situations were for rough people, not Socs. Eugene had said when the time came I'd which one I was. Could I handle this? Was I a real greaser or were brothers the only thing keeping me from being a Soc? Now, with the line I had known and respected blurred, I couldn't even properly define those words anymore. What was greaser and what made them different from the Soc? I had always heard it wasn't just the money and style and area of town. We came from different worlds. The south side Socs had pretty lives, the greasers rough ones. That's the way it had always been, but my world and head was spinning. Then I think I finally figured something out by myself, something I was just dying to talk or ask Ponyboy about.
Nelly didn't want the world because it didn't want her. Dallas hated the world because it hated him. The world expected little of them, and they gave little to the world. Two-Bit and Emily Mathews' father had run off when they were kids, and Miles mom had abandoned him. Steve's dad got drunk and knocked him around, felt bad, and gave him a few dollars to make up for it. Mark's dad got worked up at games, lost his short, hot temper, and roughed him up. Feeling guilty he too tried to make-up for it with big gifts. Johnny parents went at it like mad dogs, and apparently John had a temper as well. I though resentfully of Eugene's words that he had tried to 'fix her'. I couldn't question further now.
All this time we had seemed so different and our worlds felt so distant. Could it be that in this we really the same? Could it be that things really were rough all over Tulsa? And if that were true, could it be that things were rough all over the world?
A/N: I'll keep this one short and sweet. I hoped you liked the longer chpater, although it was a bit different. Please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading! Congrats to the person that predicted Baby would spy Johnny at the hospital!