Here's some insight on Dally's little memory lapse. Some people wondered why Johnny wasn't more upset…he's a tuff guy after all! But hopefully this is a good interaction between the two boys. I like this chapter and I hope you do too!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.

Turn of Events

Chapter 6: Camaro

The hippie didn't have a VW, but rather a blue Chevy Camaro with a busted taillight. Dally rode up front while Johnny and the dancer crammed in the smaller backseats. Johnny had been to the Ribbon once before. It had been summer, and he'd gone with Ponyboy. They walked the two-mile stretch, talking, laughing and enjoying the hotdogs, sodas and tuff cars along the way.

But now he was seeing the Ribbon from the backseat of a stranger's Camaro. He found himself watching Dally, who leaned his head out the front window and said, "Let's find us a drag race, huh?"

The hippie replied something airy while the dancer wretched, leaning her head wearily against the window. Johnny eyed her. "You gonna be okay?" She groaned sickly, her small face looking green. He rummaged under the driver's seat and found a paper bag. "Do it in here." She'd barely had the bag to her lips before emptying the contents of her stomach into it.

Cindy glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "Far out…" she muttered, getting into the left turn lane and veering sharply into a supermarket parking lot. The bag of vomit slipped from between the dancer's fingers, hit the floor, and splashed all over Dally's jacket.

"Aw! Aw, what the fuck is this?" He cried, shaking the vomit off his sleeve. He craned around in his seat to tell the dancer exactly what he thought of her. Her eyes rolled but she didn't protest. That last beer she'd had really did her in.

"I…home…tired." She mumbled. She really looked horrible. Johnny eyed her with distrust. Once again, alcohol proved its destructibility.

"Oh, fuck this. Stop the car," Dally yelled. "Stop it!"

The request took a while for the hippie to comprehend. She finally parked the Camaro and Dally stormed out, shaking his jacket furiously. He got about forty paces away before stopping short, apparently having forgotten something. He stalked back to the car, yanked open the passenger door, and pulled Johnny out.

"C'mon kid, let's go. These filthy broads are nothin' but mess and trouble."

Johnny—who agreed one hundred percent—followed Dally silently. But for the first time, Cindy seemed offended. "Easy, mad-cat, it's not my fault she's blitzed. Don't wig out on me all because she's loaded."

The dancer was crying softly; something about her parents and little brother. Johnny felt a little sorry for her—alcohol could make things feel worse—but was distracted by Dally's rage.

"Blow it out'cher ass, you dirty hippie," he spat, strolling into the throng of people, dragging Johnny roughly.

They circumvented a group of thirteen year-olds in a circle shouting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" as two hoods duked it out, and got lost in a mess of parked cars and teens having fun. After they'd walked a good distance, Johnny got the courage to peek up at the blonde's face. Dally looked furious.

"Dally man, what's wrong?" He asked. He peered over his shoulder at the blue Camaro, which hadn't yet moved. Johnny didn't care much for those girls, but he didn't think Dally's ire was warrented.

The older boy glowered, shouldering his jacket, despite it being February and very cold. "It don't matter," he dismissed, scanning the crowd with his hawk-sharp eyes. "I hate vomit. I can't stand girls that vomit. And it don't matter how good Cindy can kiss, she's still a dirty hippie. Besides, I'mma hang out with you tonight. Listen kid, I'll do whatever you want, okay?"

Johnny didn't answer right away. Dally could sure be one strange cat.

"Whatever you want. We can go mug them middle schoolers over there, I can steal us some cokes, we can go to a beer blast, drag race, whatever the hell you want, okay? And get that hair outta your eyes," he reached out, tousling the younger boy's black bangs.

"Dal, I want to go back to the room and mess around with you some more." Johnny said abruptly.

"Huh?"

"You still need to get the glass outta my chest."

"So you wanna go mess around with me instead o' scorin' with any of these broads out here?" He gestured at the crowd surrounding them. They were picking their way through groups of teenagers lying on the ground looking at the moon.

"No, all these girls is like that dancer in the cowboy boots. They'll end up puking all over my clothes too. And ain't you cold, by the way?"

Dally was rubbing his bare arms with his hands. "No I ain't."

"I want to mess around with you again." Johnny repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

The blonde stopped walking and kicked over a beer can of a nearby moon-gazer. "Listen kid, I still ain't over the doin' that stuff with you once, never mind doing it again."

Tentatively, Johnny reached his hand up and touched Dally's arm. The older boy's eyes darted around, hoping nobody was watching But everyone surrounding was busy with their own thing; nobody was paying attention to them.

"But you said it's okay for two guys to mess around if it don't mean nothin'."

He pushed Johnny's hand off. "Well, it sounds like it does mean somethin' to you."

"Well…it don't mean nothin'!" Johnny told him. "It's…just nice, is all."

Dally tilted his head back and looked to the sky, as if summoning composure. He jammed his fists into his pockets and began walking again. He felt cold, now that his buzz had worn off. "I think it's a damn gas that your idea of 'fun' is getting your pal naked." Dally commented, purposely stepping on some moon-gazer's fingers. The kid cried out in pain.

The younger boy blushed scarlet under the streetlights. "Well, I ain't queer or nothin'. I'd get a broad naked too if I could."

Dally laughed, high-pitched and manic. He slung and arm around Johnny's shoulders and squeezed him briefly before shoving him away in a manly display of affection. "I guess you ain't hearing how that sounded." His pal could really be cute sometimes.

"I—I…" The dark boy stuttered.

"Relax, it's okay." He sighed, shaking his head, a small grin still on his lips. He eyed a hotdog stand, wondering if he'd have the chance to snag one, but the vendor way watching him too closely. Johnny watched him expectantly, waiting. "Okay, fine!" He said at last. "I did say we could do whatever you want."

Johnny's eyes flashed. He didn't smile—he was too edgy—but he looked pleased.

"You wanna hit a beer blast first?" Dally added, "They's always one down by the lake."

"No!" Johnny cried, surprising even himself with the volume of his voice. "No, I want you to remember it this time."

He reached out and touched Dally's wrist again. The blonde didn't push him away this time, but he eyed the hand until it was withdrawn. Johnny sure was a smart kid. Smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He looked down at his friend through the bottoms of his eyes, noting that feeling of pride crawling through his chest.

"You knew I was gonna forget? That I was outta it?"

Johnny nodded. "When you was kissin' me—"

"Keep your voice down, will ya?"

"When you was kissin' me," he whispered, "I could taste the booze and the grass. And the blacks of your eyes was real big."

"My pupils was dilated?" The blonde asked and the younger boy nodded. "Yeah, I took some pills from Buck. But they fucked me up and I ain't gonna take 'em again."

"You promise?"

"Yeh," he said gruffly.

"And it ain't gonna be an excuse for why you messed around with me? The drugs? They ain't gonna be an excuse?"

He smirked and swiped two hotdogs from the unsuspecting vendor who'd stupidly turned his back on the pair of Greasers. "No, they ain't gonna be an excuse. You gonna be the excuse. I'mma not wake up in a haze this time. Here, have one of these. It's good practice."

Johnny looked from the hotdog up to Dally's pale, elfish face. A blush and a grin crept across his dark features. He understood the double meaning.

They were about to look for a ride out when they heard some commotion at the far end of the lot. "I think those hoods drugged her officer," came a girl's voice.

Dally and Johnny peered through the crowd. Curious teens stood in a ring around a brunette in cowboy boots. She was sprawled out on the gravel, her small face tinged blue. A pile of vomit lay beside her, a few strings still connected to her mouth. The ambulance siren rang out in the distance as the officer took her pulse and searched for identification.

"Oh shit, it's that broad," Dally breathed. Cindy and her blue Camaro were nowhere to be seen.

Johnny stared, completely stunned. "She dead?" He squeaked.

"Nah, she's passed out drunk. But we's gonna be dead if we don't get the fuck outta here. C'mon."

He grabbed Johnny's shoulder and the two slipped through the throng of people. They had to get off the Ribbon before they were accused of drugging some stranger. Neither of them needed more attention from the fuzz. This was just a never-ending night.

Thanks for reading. Review if you have any comments or suggestions.