I originally wrote the first chunk of this chapter to be used... two chapters ago? The Halloween one. Anyway, I decided to cut it out and use it later. If I hadn't, One Hallova Plot Point wouldn't have ended the way I wanted it to.
Oh, and another thing; I love the movie Remember the Titans. Don't listen to that Dally. X3
"Worst damn movie they've ever had the nerve to show in class - I should know. I've sat through at least three sessions of Remember the Titans." Dallas rolled his eyes. "Talk about bad film quality, a Disney at that. I mean, they usually are, especially ones that old, but you'd think they'd have some extra dough to spread around..."
Johnny would've made a good shrink, the way he would nod and say "mm hmm" or "I see" every once-in-a-while. Then again, maybe he was listening; It would seem like it, since part way into Dallas's rant he frowned in disagreement, rooting through his locker as he did so. Dally had inadvertently followed him there, not planning to get his own things. He was a born moocher.
"I don't think it was queer - I kind of liked how they stuck out for each other like that, like a real family."
Dallas rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you really' go for that brotherly love crap... But just ask any other guy here, I swear, they'll tell you it's gay. Like..."
Dallas paused, glancing around the hall. He spotted a tough-looking, black-haired kid, the kind who probably thought with his fists. He smirked; perfect.
"Mm... that kid!"
Johnny paled. "That kid?"
"Yeah, Johnnycake!" He slapped him on the back. "Go get 'im, Tiger!"
Johnny began to protest and was roughly shoved at the wiry-headed boy. He looked over his shoulder, looking like a deer in the headlights.
"But Dally!" he pleaded, still out of the target's earshot. "We'll be late to class!"
Dallas rolled his eyes, again. "You can't be late to study hall, dork! Now just go ask him. Stop acting like I asked you to eat a pig's testicles."
Johnny's face contorted in a sick expression of the conjured image.
"He's getting away - now go!"
Dallas gave him another shove, this time almost causing Johnny to smack right into the beastly boy. He turned to glare at the disturbance, who went white-faced before locking his eyes on the floor and mumbling something Dally couldn't make out. The future convict laughed, walking away.
Suddenly concerned, Dally made his way over.
"What happened?" he hissed. "What did he do that for? What did you-?"
He stopped, realizing Johnny was still staring at the floor. A sympathetic grin began to play across his face.
"Aw, kid!" he laughed, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Why didn't you tell me you was shy?"
His blush had gone down some as Dally led him down the hall, but he refused to watch anything but his feet.
Dally leaned in with a wry smirk.
"Izzerre something real interesting down there?"
Johnny shook his head.
"I thought you'd know," he grumbled miserably. Dally knew what he meant.
"Well, shoot, kid!" He patted him on the shoulder, laughing good-humoredly. "I've only ever seen you with Pony 'an me, so-"
But wait. Just him and Pony. Come to think, Johnny didn't even talk in class, let alone...
Dally groaned. "Shit," he said. "I'm sorry."
He wasn't sure why, though. It wasn't all that big of a deal. But the forgiving smile Johnny gave him just then made him think it might've.
-
"Pony boy, pony boy, won't you be my pony boy? Giddyap giddyap giddyap whoooah, my po-ny boy..."
Mike came to a complete halt. Resistance was futile; Bryon was singing Bruce Springsteen tunes, a traditional southern lullaby at that. He was in "that mood".
"Ride with me, ride with me..."
Bryon's voice trailed off as he hooked an arm around Mikeyboy's neck, sighing blissfully. His friend fixated him with a single green eye. Bryon scowled.
"Don't give me that evil look!" he whined. "I'm having-"
"A bad day, I know," Pony finished brusquely. "It'd just be nice if everyone stopped calling me by my... birth name in public."
Bryon fluttered his eyelashes. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"
Thank God for Bryon being one of those guys who could prance around in a tutu with a fairy wand and still be the epitome of masculinity. Pony, however, wasn't, which put his reputation in danger. God knows how concerned about that he was - as anyone named Ponyboy should.
"Alright." Pony ducked under Bryon's arm. "So what's going on with you and Cathy that's making you so damn clingy?" Then, in hushed (but no more gentler) tones, "Did the 'movie theatre guy' rear his ugly head again?"
Bryon fidgeted before sighing long and hard.
"Can we skip? This is a story that's both too long for the hallway and too important to wait for lunch." He paused. "Though now that I think about it, this is the period you obsessively spy on lovebirds numero tres y cuatro."
He meant Dally and Johnny, of course. Numero uno y dos had been him and Cathy, though number didn't necessarily mark priority. Expiration date, maybe.
Pony shrugged. "Heck. You're more important just because you'll bother me more about whatever's got your panties in a bunch." He narrowed his eyes. "And I am not obsessive."
Bryon grinned in a gooey manner. "You called me important - dreams really do come true!"
He yanked his head out of the clouds soon enough to realize PonyMike was walking away.
"I'll leave you, I swear to God I will."
Bryon was after him like a Star Trek junkie on a UFO.
-
Dally slumped against the doorframe, yawning. It had been a particularly long yet painfully uneventful day. People had stared at him and his multitude of bruises and wondered about the way he and Johnny walked side by side when, in contrast, they were so different.
But that was the beauty of it; everyone should've realized it was a cliché well known.
He felt hands on his back, pushing him.
"Dall-ee," Johnny griped, "move!"
Dally gave a fake sigh, examining his nails before finally letting him through. Johnny tried to scowl at him, but instead his lips tugged upward in the corners. Dally's did, as well.
They sat side by side on the sofa, not really watching the TV (which would be fruitless, considering it was turned off) but not talking, either. Just sitting, enjoying each other's company and the presence of Dally's arm hanging around the back of the sofa, framing Johnny's shoulders.
Johnny was considered an innocent kid in most peoples' eyes, but the truth was he was still sixteen and still a boy. And with Dally this close, his breathing seemed to thunder in his ears, significant to him but soft in reality.
He was thinking about the kiss on Halloween.
It was only a few days later he knew, but Dally still hadn't said much about it, neither denying nor enforcing some sort of motive behind it. In leaving it open, the possibilities were endless and driving Johnny mad; Indulgence? Kicks? He had been asking for it, after all.
But not on the forehead!
Absently, he leaned into Dally's side (not noticing but definitely caring if this was companionship or romanticized) and began to stroke the opposite side of Dally's head. First hesitantly, then more boldly, fingers sifting through the naturally whitish hair.
His fingers brushed the older boy's ear and he let out a soft grunt, only whispery. A moan?
"Don't..." he mumbled, looking off to the side. If Johnny didn't know any better, he'd say he was blushing.
Cocking his head to the side, he replied, "You mean... like this?" He brushed his thumb against Dally's earlobe, watching him close his eyes and listening for the soft hum that emanated from his throat.
Dally wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of his ears being rubbed - come to think, hadn't it been that busty blonde number he'd done a while ago to tell him? All the pleasure centers in the brain are accessible through the ears. Or something like that. He was just uncomfortable with the fact it was Johnny, though Dallas wasn't sure why - it felt good, the kid was cute, and they were alone. Heaven.
And now Heaven was falling.
He started at the sensation of being tugged down. He blushed uncharacteristically, making the glare he shot Johnny all the weaker.
"What the heck-?"
"I just want to see something!" Johnny said hastily. "Please? You'll enjoy it!"
Enjoying it wasn't the problem, though he seemed rather eager to perform his experiment; whatever it was. Dally decided to oblige, since his head was now resting comfortably in the crook of Johnny's lap.
Hands trailed everywhere along his face, from caressing his temples to slipping beneath strands of hair. The movements were fluent and overall relaxing, causing the lids of Dally's ice-blue eyes to gain weight and droop.
There was hot breath on Dally's face, even with his own. Fingers brushed his lips and he opened his eyes, finding Johnny gazing shyly at him. A curtain of emotion moved behind those deep, black orbs, where one could barely tell the pupil from the iris. Yet there was a calm, too.
Dally tilted his chin and they kissed; they kissed until their heads swam and they needed oxygen, parting briefly only to kiss again. And again.
Johnny's back had to be aching from leaning over like that, but he didn't seem to mind.
The world swam in and out of focus, spiraling all the while, the sound of Beatles' music and gravel shifting in the driveway faintly flooding the room...
Holy hell.
Johnny quickly sat up, Dallas jumping off and settling in a relaxed position beside him on the couch. Johnny flipped on the TV and proceeded to calmly flip through the channels, Dally chewing his nails with a faux expression of boredom.
They heard her car pull into the garage, the kitchen door opening followed by a small uttered curse as she went back out to close up the garage door. When she finally made her way in, they were fully composed.
Mrs. Cade set her keys on the table, looking at them quizzically. "Hey, boys."
Johnny beamed. Dally thought he could hear his heart beat, whether from shock of the early arrival or elation at being kissed he wasn't sure.
"Hi, mom," he said, voice even. Dally managed a nonchalant wave. It came across lazy.
Mrs. Cade was smirking to herself, expression guarded except for the slight twitching at the corners of her lips. For a second, Dally panicked she had caught them. Somehow.
Johnny cocked an eyebrow, setting the remote down. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing!" She let herself laugh. "It's just that Mason McCormick..."
She told them about how one of her co-workers had gotten his sleeve caught in the paper-shredder trying to impress the new female intern.
"So much for that," she laughed, heading into the kitchen. "Any dinner preferences?"
They ended up agreeing on Chinese.
When she was safely out of earshot, Dally released a harbored sigh. "Johnny, you realize how lucky you are to have a mother like that?"
Johnny fixed him with a smile.
"You mean," he corrected, "how lucky we are."
-
"I'm breaking up with you."
She was normally submissive, quiet. He expected her to cry, but he must have rubbed off on her some for her to do what she did next.
She slapped him, shocking the hell out of him and several bystanders. After it was clear Dallas wouldn't hit her or cause a scene, a few brave souls snickered.
She glared at him, and to this day he couldn't remember her name. It was funny; she had been the only one to stand up to him like that.
"You think you're tough shit, huh, Dallas?" she spat.
He watched her, still shocked and yet not angry or even regretful, as she sashayed away. There was irritation as well as a lack of confidence laced within each stride.
The song "Pony boy" is one of the hokiest pokiest out there (from Bruce Springsteen's "Human Touch" album), and only once you hear it will you get what I mean. I always thought that was where Hinton got the name, but then my mother said it may have actually been a "traditional southern lullaby" - so I have no clue whether it was by Springsteen, inspired by Hinton, sung by women across America - all I know is my parents sung it to my little brother before I could even read.