When I woke up, it was all hazy. I had one nurse talking, to what seemed to be a cop on the opposite side of my bed. He said something like taking me away once I got better, and I groaned. I tried to remember how I got there, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. I just remembered feeling a sharp pain in my side and worrying about..
"She was an accomplice to Keith Matthews, stealing a dress, so it seems. We're letting him out on easy bail, his mother will pick him up in the morning. Their school will be contacted about this. Turns out, they stole the dress for some date to their school formal." He gave a heartless chuckle. My vision was blurry, especially with all of those bright lights, but they were mostly open by the time the nurse replied.
"She rolled her ankle, and the pain will be gone in a few days. She had some glass in her left side, too, but the injuries were minor. They didn't require stitches. She seemed to have passed out from fatigue; she didn't look like she's had sleep in years." The nurse was exaggerating, but she seemed pretty right. I never sleep anymore. This stiff hospital pillow was beginning to feel comfortable, once I heard the word sleep.
"She does have quite a record, though, back where she's from. Can't seem to get ahold of her folks.. she won't get off too easily, but at least she won't be spending the night in a cell." For a second, my heart started beating hard, thinking of Two-Bit. But, I relaxed, after actually imagining it. He could make the hardest, toughest hood around grin if he tried. And if he couldn't, he could surely fend for himself. Nonetheless, I still hoped he was alright. I felt so awful for all of this.
"Well, she's awake.. finally. Thought we'd never wake you up." The nurse talked condescending. I gave her a creepy, sarcastic smile. She replied with a sigh. "We can't get ahold of your father." I winced.
"Good." My voice was hoarse; I was thirsty. "He won't do you any good, anyway."
"He's your legal guardian; he needs to know these things."
"He couldn't care less, I'll tell you that much. Booze is all he needs." I hated talking about him. I hated even thinking about him. The cop observed me for a minute. Wait. Was I naked? I felt naked.
"Your school will be contacted. You won't get charges pressed against you, but the owner of the store wants his money back for that dress, and we'll request for you to get some kind of detention or suspension from your school's administration." I stared at him nonchalantly. I didn't care, and I showed it. "I don't want this to happen again, October. If it does, I won't go half as easy on you; in fact, if you weren't in a hospital bed, you would be in a cell along with Mr. Matthews." I sighed out of boredom.
"Yes, sir. Won't do it again." My tone said it all. The officer's face said that he regretted letting me off so easily, and he turned on his heel and walked out. Looking to the nurse, I made myself look pitiful. "Could I please have some water? And my pants?"
I was naked. Practically. Stupid hospital gowns; I hate these things.
"Water, yes. We'll give you your things back once we get ahold of your guardian, and you'll be free to go. Or, at least, someone to come and pick you up and sign you out, over 18." The only person I knew over 18 that would do that is Two-Bit. Damnit.. I'm never going to get out of here.
"I'm completely fine. Just need some water, and I'll skip outta here."
"Rules are rules."
I growled in frustration. I hated hospitals.
You know how they say when you're in a hospital, you can never get any sleep? The sounds of screams of those in agony, both physical and emotional, or the groans of the near-dead always keeping you up. The nerve-wrecking rush of footsteps followed by commands to save peoples' lives by the split of a hair, often failing and resulting in more screams of agony.
I got the best sleep I've had in a year in that hospital.
When I woke up for the second time, I was greeted by a nurse.
"You're free to go. Your things are waiting for you, so get dressed and they'll sign you out." They? Who is they? I sat up and looked around, then pushed aside the curtain. Ponyboy! Wait, Ponyboy isn't 18. Johnny's there, too, but neither is he. Who could have..?
"Pony, Johnny, Soda, let her get dressed so we can get outta here." Superman returns. And he really did save the day! I'm sure he didn't do this on his own free will, and I suddenly felt real embarrassed. I was still in one of those crummy hospital gowns! I groaned.
"Ungh.. hey, guys. Wish you wouldn't have seen me in this dumb gown."
"Would it be better seeing you in a wedding gown that Two-Bit stole for ya? Hell, I would'a thought you guys would have ran away to get married or somethin'!" Soda laughed. He was just playing around, but it made me feel even worse.
"Sorry about that, guys.. it's my fault." I gripped the thin hospital sheets.
"Oh, nah, it's all right. Two-Bit said it was his idea in the first place, you had no clue. It's just funny, 'cuz he's never been caught stealin' before." Now I feel ten million times worse! I broke his good luck streak.
"Come on, we need to get out of here." Darry was impatient. It was Saturday, so I don't see why. At least, I think it's Saturday.. how long was I sleeping? The boys exited, and I hopped into my jeans quicker than I ever have before. I tossed off that hospital gown like it were a constricting ball and chain just released, and threw on my tight print tee. Stretching, I escaped from that hellhole, and looked up to Darry. He was so tall.
"Thanks a lot, Darry. I'd have been stuck in there for eternity, if it wasn't for you."
"Two-Bit gave us a call from the station saying that some cop said you were stuck in the hospital until someone came and signed you out." Darry didn't mention the fact that my father had ignored the fact that I was in the hospital and needed a guardian there for me. That he was an ignorant, drunkard fuckbag that didn't give a shit whether or not I was at the bottom of the ocean. I'm kind of glad he didn't mention it, though, but I'm sure that all of them know by now.
"Did his mom bail him out yet?"
"Yeah, he should be out by now." Soda jumped in. It was still Saturday, good.
Darry offered to give me a ride back to my place, but I didn't want to go back there. Pony and Johnny didn't talk much, maybe they were mad at me. They never really talk, anyway, though, but I wished they did. Soda almost insisted that they give me a ride, since it was a long walk, but I needed to get back on my feet, even with this rolled ankle. It did start to hurt real bad after a couple of minutes of walking, so I had to stop and sit down on a bench or on the curb for a little bit, but I managed.
Lifting up my shirt on my left side, there was some bandaging, and I quickly ripped it off. I'm allergic to all of that crap. Band-aids, medical tape, latex, bacitracin, rubbing alcohol.. if any of that shit gets in my bloodstream, I have bad allergic reactions. I could even die, if I get a lot in there. Anything that can heal me, can also kill me. Ironic, huh? Some of the cuts were kind of deep, and I knew I'd be carrying those scars for the rest of my life. Most of them, anyway. Some of them were harmless scratches, though. My shirt was torn slightly where the glass had ripped through, but there was no blood -- it must have been cleaned, or something. I still had my locket around my neck, though, and it never left, even in the hospital.
I saw some kids across the street, Greasers, no doubt, smoking and causing tiny havoc. Kicking cans into cars, writing dirty words on the bus stop wall: the usual.
"MAN.. I wish I had a weed!" I said pretty loud. But, they didn't, and if they did, they ignored me. I sighed, there's no harm in asking; I haven't had a cigarette in forever, so it seems. So I walked across the street, and approached the one inhaling and exhaling smoke like a fiend. He had a scar from his temple, down his jaw, and hard, mean eyes.
"What do you want?" His voice was even colder than Dally's. Not to mention older.
"A smoke. Got any spares?" I tried to look cute. Some of the guys behind him were snickering, and jabbing their thumbs towards me. But I couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Get lost." He shouldered past me, and if he wouldn't have brushed against my bad side, with both my rolled ankle and bruised ribs were, I wouldn't have lightly whimpered. I caught myself halfway in the act, though.
"Aw, come on, Tim. She's kinda cute, for a rat." I glared towards them, and shoved my thumbs in my pockets. They were all cackling and snorting. Self-consciously, I thought, do I really look like a rat? Out of anger, I figured it wasn't a good idea, since I can't run too well on a rolled ankle, but..
"FAGS!" And I started off in a sprint. I heard them debating behind me, and then heard a few footsteps. And then more, and more, until I think the entire gang was after me. I turned off into an alley, suddenly realizing that it was a dead end. I almost leaped behind a pile of trash cans, shaking and panting, but I quieted myself.
"Where'd she go?" I heard, and some more muffling noises.
My ankle was hurting mighty bad, so I let it relax a little and it resulted in the trash bag in front of me tipping over, causing a lot of cans and other disgusting waste to spill out.
"Shit." I cursed at myself, and scooted more behind the trash cans. "Fuck."
I heard footsteps coming, and I didn't want to look like I was afraid, so I quickly stood up, and crossed my arms, raking my jaw. There was no escape way, there were too many of them.
"You really are a rat.." That cold voice echoed through my mind. Tim surfaced through his gang, and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscles and other scars. "Cornered behind trash, in a dark alley."