Deceiver

Chapter Three - The revelation

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1940

He hears the news when his Mom tells them to his Dad. He's standing just outside the kitchen, eavesdropping at them where they are sitting by the table, speaking in hushed voices. He doesn't hesitate - in a second, he is out onto the streets. They only live five houses apart, but he runs the other way - he knows where to find him.

There's an abandoned industry area far east, and signs warns about the danger of the place, but he climbs the fence anyway, jumps down on the other side. It's not the first time they're here, and they really don't care about the warnings. The worst things ever happened to them here, are just bruises and a sprained ankle anyway.

During the years, the grass has cracked the asphalt in several places, bushes has started to grown against the concrete walls. Someone has sometimes in the past broken up one of the doors, and it hangs on its hinges, welcoming them into the dark if they want to. But they have only been in there a few times with flashlights, nothing interesting could be found, none of them dares to admit that its was pretty scary, and their favorite spot is a hidden alcove around the corner instead.

He finds him there, like he knew he would.

Darrel Curtis wipes his eyes, straighten up his back and even if it should be okay to cry over a decreased father, even in his age, even in this neighborhood, he still doesn't want people to see his red rimmed eyes. Not even his best friend.

"I just heard," Henry says, breathless, in front of him, hands on his knees. He swallows, knowing Darrel probably wants to be alone, but he can't leave him. Not like this. And he says, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Darrel blinks furiously. His hands lie clenched in his lap.

Henry tries to catch his breath, later sits down next to him, searching for more words to say, but finds none. Words won't bring Darrel's dad back anyway. So they sit in silence.

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966

Someone tries to open the door, but I'm in the way, sleeping on the hard floor.

"Pony? Are you in there?" Soda sounds worried. I move, slightly at first, then sit up and rub my eyes. The door opens up a few inches more when the immediately pressure from my body disappears.

I feel disoriented, blink tiredly while I take in my surrounding, recognize it. I'm in Mom and Dad's bedroom, still. I don't know how I fell asleep though, don't know what time it is. It's dark outside the window.

"Pony!" Soda says again, urging.

"Yeah," I mutter.

"What's wrong?" My brother pushes at the door, but my back is stopping it. "C'mon, let me in."

I scoot over to the side, so he can open up completely. I stare up at him, but he sinks down on his knees in front of me.

"What are you doin' in here?" he asks gentle, placing a hand on my shoulder. I can see his eyes travel around the room, and there is sadness in them. I know he hasn't been in here either, after our parents' death.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. I It almost feels like I have done a break in, something illegal and wrong, into a sanctuary. "I know I shouldn't-"

"Hey," Soda interrupts me. "It's okay. You're allowed to be in here if you want." He watches me closely. "What's the matter, Pony?"

I swallow. "Soda..." I know I have to tell him. Everything. It's too much for me to handle alone. But I can't. Not in here. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but I don't want my parents to listen. And it feels like they can in here.

Like he can read my mind, Soda rises, drags me up on my feet and leads me out. He slowly closes the door behind us before we continue into the living room, with his hand on my back all the way. Steve looks up from his spot on the couch, and I stop short. I didn't know he was here.

"So you found him," Steve smirks.

"I wasn't gone," I defend myself, glaring. Soda sighs, and I throw a glance at him, feeling how my expression changes. What if I lose him? What if I lose them, my brothers? What if I will be taken away? I shiver, and Soda notices. Of course he does.

"I just didn't knew were you where," he says. "But I saw your backpack and shoes, and I figured not even you would run away barefoot in the snow." He smiles, but when I don't return it, it disappears from his face. "Tell me, Pony. Somethin' happened today." It's not a question.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Pony?"

I sniff, feeling embarrassed because of it. I didn't cry before, so why now, with audience? I can feel Steve's eyes on me. Soda looks at him, makes an almost unnoticeable movement with his head, and I can't really believe Steve gets it, but he does. He rises, snatching his cigarette pack from the table and his coat from the spot beside him.

"I should be goin', I have some stuff to do." He sticks one arm into a sleeve on his jacket. "See ya later," he says to Soda. And then, to my surprise, "Bye, kid."

The door slams and Soda's eyes meet mine."We're alone," he tells me, unnecessary.

I dip my head, stare down at the floor instead, take a deep breath and let the words stream out of me. "Shethinksit'sDarry."

"Mm, what?" Soda sounds confused.

I try again. "My teacher." I wave my hand in front of my face, takes it slower this time. "She thinks it's Darry." Saying it makes the first tear drop. Angrily at myself, I wipe it away with my sleeve. "I told her it was a Soc but she didn't believe me. She could tell I lied so now she thinks it's Darry."

Soda frowns. "What? But he wouldn't-" he interrupts himself. "What did she say, Pony?"

I don't know why I blush. Maybe because it's my fault, this. "She- she said she should report it. To... ya know, the- the social services."

I have never seen Soda so angry before. He takes my arm, sits me down in the recliner before he walks over to the phone and snatches the receiver. I watch him punch in the number, then wait. All the time his eyes are on me, burning, but I know I'm not his target.

"Hey," he suddenly says. "I wanna speak with Darrel Curtis." Pause. "His brother Sodapop." He twirls the cord around his fingers. "'Kay. Can you please tell him to hurry home? It's a family matter." Pause. "Yeah, it's important." His eyes drift from me, and he turns his back on me. "Thanks." He slams the phone down.

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1940

It takes over an hour until he manages to voice his fear. By then, clouds hide the sun, the chill air makes goosebumps on their arms.

"So... what happens now? Are you stayin' in Tulsa or..." He lets the words trail off. Darrel's mom can never afford the house by herself. They could nearly not afford it before.

"I think my grandparents will move in," Darrel says, toneless. Then, "Damnit."

There's one more thing Henry wants to know. "So... what happened?" It doesn't feels good to ask, but he met Darrel's old man yesterday, and he seemed fine then.

Darrel's eyes are blank. "It was somethin' with his heart."

"Heart attack?"

"Hell should I know? They won't tell me." Darrel finally looks at him. "I want a beer."

They leave, to find Anthony and his brother, and then they sit in their garage, gulping alcohol.

When he gets home after dark, drunk and dizzy, he takes the beating caused by running off without telling and his delirious state. But that is just like any other cause, it's not really the reason why. It never is. But he takes it easily anyway- his friend needed him. Bruises are a low price to pay for that. He knows Darrel will do the same for him. Always.

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966

I have never seen Darry so furious. He was calm when he asked me the questions, a lot of them, and I tried to answer them all, what Mrs. Thomas said, exact words, and what Mrs. Sullivan did, exact things.

And after that, he got this glow in his eyes. "I'll follow you to school tomorrow," was all he said to me, but I could see the rage even though he tried to hide it.

I have to admit that I'm a little scared of him. I don't recognize him.

When we crawl to bed this night, I confess it to Soda, but he only smiles sadly at me. He has been quiet the whole evening, and I wonder what's going on in his head. But it's not until we lie in the dark he finally seems to put it together. I'm not sure if I did my slip-up on purpose or not, but I almost feel relieved when he brings it up.

"Pony," he says, and then he's silent for a moment. "Was it a lie?"

I knew it would come, I know what he's thinking of, but I ask anyway. "What do you mean?" I hold my breath. He doesn't disappoint me.

"You said your teacher could tell that you lied to her. Did you?" I can feel how he turns in bed to face me. I'm still on my back, blinking against the ceiling even though I can't see anything. It's too dark for that.

"Did you lie to me too, Pony?" He sounds hurt. He already knows the answer. "If it wasn't a Soc, then who was it?" His hand finds my arm, shakes it gentle. "Pony? Was it that guy on the cemetery? The brother?"

I breathe. "Yeah. Um..."

I wonder if he'll get angry at me, but he doesn't. He only sighs, deeply, concerned. "I should've known," he says to himself. "I should've."

"No," I whisper. "Beacuse-"

I don't know if he heard me, he just continues, harsh this time. He won't let anyone get away with this. "What was his name, Pony? The brother? Do ya know?"

I close my eyes, hard. It doesn't change anything, it doesn't gets any darker, it only hurts my eyes, but I don't want to see. I can sense him. Hear his voice while I'm talking.

I know -

"Soda... it wasn't his brother."

-you can keep-

"It wasn't him. They only pretended it was him. In the car. It wasn't him, it was his brother."

-a secret.

"I didn't get much out of that," Soda says. I can feel how he sits up by now. "Who was in the car?"

I keep my eyes closed. "It was Luke in the car. Henry... he was at the cemetery. It was him who - he's alive. And his brother killed them 'cause he had cancer."

Soda's hand touches my face. "You dreamt that?" he asks me. I hear the little shiver in his voice. He knows it's not a dream.

So I tell him again. His hand leaves my face, finds the switch to the lamp on the nightstand. Then he calls for Darry. It's repeated again. All my secrets floating up to the surface.

All the time I keep my eyes closed. I don't want to meet theirs.

xXx

Lawton, Oklahoma, 1966

He twists and turns in the uncomfortable bed, remembering his own, remembering the hard bunk bed in prison. This is better than the latter, still, he left his own to drive to Sarah's warm, but ended up here, only because of the boy.

He doesn't leave his mind. He remember the summer, ten years ago. The little boy. Darrel's boy.

He can't sleep, so he drinks. Thrashes the beer cans under his foot, kicks them into the wall. There are feelings he can't explain, feelings he hadn't thought he would feel again after it was done. When it was done, he was supposed to be free, free from his past, from everything. That was what they said, Luke and himself, it was the goddamn fucking plan, why they even crashed the car into the tree that day, not long time ago.

But how will he be able to do it now?

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956

He steps into their house for the first time. He knows they argued; Darrel told him. He told him Anne was insecure, unsure to meet him. He never said afraid, but Henry knows.

'She should be,' he didn't say. Just, "Oh. Maybe I shouldn't..."

But Darrel assured him. "It's fine. I want you to meet my family." And now he's here.

Anne wipes her hands on a blue apron, takes his hand. Hers are small, cool. There's the little boy he already met, Soda. The bigger boy, named after his father. Darry is a big ten year old, with a self confidence Henry never felt himself. Then he sees the third little boy, playing with a wooden toy car, makes it run over the floor. He looks up with green eyes.

"This is Ponyboy."

The boy doesn't talk. The single evening, he doesn't hear him say a word. But he does speak, in his own little way, with smiles and sounds and pointing fingers. And Henry feels almost alive when he throws football with Darry, when he throws the two youngest high in the air, hearing Soda cheer, "One more time, uncle Henry! It's my turn now, not Pony's! I'm next!"

It's like theater. Sometimes it feels like it's two of him, one acting, one standing on the side, watching this perfect family, and he looks at Darrel, thinks

You stole it from me.

It's getting dark when Anne excuses herself with the dishes, when Darrel gets the beers, when the two oldest boys wrestle and Soda's nose springs to bleed. And then there's only the two of them, him and the little boy, the youngest, the one who doesn't talk, when Darrel takes his other boys inside.

Ponyboy plays with a little bug. He watches it crawl over the grass, lets it up on his hand, shrieks in delightful horror at its six legs and black, shiny color. And Henry envy him. Once, he was like that, young and innocent, before he was destroyed.

That's the right word for it. It's him who is destroyed. Used. Damaged. The beer makes him light-headed and dizzy, and before he knows it, he wobbles to his feet, crashes down in the grass next to the little warm body.

"That's your toy?" he points at the little bug. Pony watches him, suddenly wary, and Henry feels the rage being built, because why is he fucking scared, hasn't he been nice all evening?

"You're not much of a talker, huh?" Henry mocks. "I bet you can keep a secret."

Silence.

"Well, can you boy? Wanna hear it?"

He doesn't know why it seems important to tell him, but it's like it's pouring out of him, like he wants to create a crack in the perfect picture he's been watching all night. And what's easier, than crack a little boy?

He should know. He was that boy once.

He picks up the little bug, holds it between his thumb and index finger, holds it in front of Ponyboy's eyes. And then he says it, while squeezing.

"I really hate your pa. I'll crush him like the bug."

Ponyboy flinches when he drops the dead insect into the grass. His eyes are wide. His lip trembles. Henry suddenly regrets everything, but it's too late to back down. His drunk mind screams at him that he's so stupid, fix this! and he puts his mouth near the boys ear,says, "Don't tell anyone, and I mean it!"

A week later, he's invited again, and he walks to the house, almost shivering, waiting for a scolding, a beating, a 'get out and never come back' but nothing happens, and he knows...

...the boy really kept it a secret.

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