I didn't know what was going to happen. I'd seen Johnny pretty banged up after a run in with his old man. I'd heard him getting screamed at all the way at my house when his mother was pissed off at him. His parents were both crazy drunks. I was practically holding my breath and willing his dad to stop. But I couldn't stop watching, I couldn't turn away. Johnny was holding his breath, too, but he wasn't crying or even making a sound. Then his dad threw the two-by-four to the corner of the living room and went into the kitchen, at which point Johnny opened his eyes and took off for the door. I followed him as fast as I could, and neither of us looked back. I heard the screen door slam as we headed onto the porch and down the steps.
I didn't know what to do, I was afraid to talk to him, afraid he was upset or embarrassed or something. I mean, we all knew his dad hit him, it wasn't like it was a secret or anything. If he had a black eye or some awful bruise somewhere and you asked him what happened he'd tell you. So it wasn't like this was new information, I just had never been there when it happened.
We walked in silence to the lot, and it was starting to get dark, but there was already a fire going there. We stopped in front of it and I watched how the firelight lit up Johnny's features. He wasn't looking at me, he was just staring into the fire, and he was so resigned looking, so hopeless. I thought about my dad, when he was alive, how he talked to all of us, me and Darry and Soda, and asked us how things were going and taught us things like fixing cars and unplugging drains and did things with us, and he never hit us, never once. I wished Johnny could have had a dad like mine. It seemed so unfair and ironic that my dad, who was so good and loving and everything, that he was dead, and Johnny's dad, who was such a mean drunk, was still alive.
I heard Johnny take a shuddery breath but when I looked at him he looked calm, he looked like he usually did. Maybe this happened a lot more than any of us thought, I didn't know. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and opened it, tossed the wrapper into the fire where it glowed brighter for a second and then went dark. He handed me a cigarette and our eyes met for a second, then he looked away, looked back at the fire. I lit my cigarette and he lit his and we smoked in silence.
I wondered how hurt he was, those whacks with that piece of wood looked awful. And I realized that the swollen and black eyes, the bruises on his face or his arms were only the things we could see. No one would see this. If I hadn't been there I wouldn't have known it happened, because unless Johnny had some injury you could see and ask about, he wouldn't really mention that his father beat him.
I didn't think I was going to say anything. It was hard with Johnny because he really hardly talked much at all, and I could be pretty quiet, too. I mean, I talked a lot to Soda, sometimes even babbling on and on about something, but with Johnny I was usually pretty quiet. But I sort of wanted to talk, you know? I wanted to see if he was okay, and I wasn't really sure how he could be.
It was getting close to supper time and I'd have to go. Darry hated it when I was late, which was a lot. But I stood there with Johnny a while longer, kind of wanting to reassure myself that he was okay. And I was getting almost afraid to talk to him. I mean, it's not like he'd do anything if I talked to him, like yell at me or snap or something like that. Maybe I was embarrassed for him, or felt bad for him, or worse for him than I usually did. I tended to feel bad for him because of his lousy parents and the way he seemed so nervous so much of the time. It was like you could tell he never got a break.
"Johnny?" I said, my eyes wide in the dark.
"Yeah?" he said, his voice kind of scratchy and almost deep, the way it always was.
"Uh, are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, and he glanced at me for a second.
"I gotta go home," I said, "it's almost supper time, and Darry gets mad-" I listened to myself and kind of cringed. Darry getting mad was nothing compared to what he had to deal with, and I really knew it now.
"Um, anyway, do you wanna come?" I said, tossing my cigarette butt into the fire.
For a second I didn't think he was going to answer me, he was just looking off, kind of looking beyond the fire into the darkness. Then he turned to me, and I noticed how big and dark his eyes looked in this light.
"No, I'm just gonna stay here," he said, taking another cigarette out and lighting it up. I didn't say anything more, although I wanted to tell him he could come over later and sleep over if he wanted to, I wanted to tell him he should move in with us instead of living at his house, Darry and Soda wouldn't mind. But I didn't say anything, not even goodbye or see you later. Everything I'd seen was kind of playing itself over in my head, and I just took off.
I ended up being late anyway, despite trying to be on time. Darry gave me that disappointed look he had, that he seemed to give me more and more. I shrugged and sat down at the table, and maybe something in my face gave away that I was upset, because Soda looked at me quizzically.
"Where ya been, Pony?" he said, and I swallowed my mouthful of food over the lump in my throat.
"Uh, I was at Johnny's house," I said.