Deceiver
Chapter Eight - The apartment
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
I get the feeling that something is wrong some blocks later, when we don't drive toward the centre of the city, like I thought we would. Instead, we're still on the east side of town, and it just not feels right. I shift uncomfortable in my seat, and the woman, Sarah Wells, throws a glance sideways, smiles at me. But she seems nervous, somehow. It's the way her hands grip the steering wheel, how she leans slightly forward, and there's a tension in the air, unexplained. It's too quiet. The air is too heavy to breathe. I finger the bag on my knee, braid the straps between my fingers, wondering if these... things usually happen this way. I mean, I don't know. I don't have the experience. Maybe all this is like it should be, but the feeling won't go away. We're at the wrong place, and the streets don't get any nicer when the car turns around another corner, approaching a worse area of Tulsa.
"Um, where are we goin'? Are we lost?" I mumble out the words, not sure if they will get me into trouble or not.
"Oh no, we're on the right way. I told you not to worry, didn't I? And we're going to the boys home." Suddenly she hits the brakes and we both jerk forward. My seat belt digs into my chest. "Jesus!" she curses. "Damn cat!"
I see its black tail when it disappears behind a pile of trash in an alley, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Um, there ain't a boys home around here," I say to her, a bit uneasy. I wonder if I should unbuckle and run, but I don't have the time until she speeds up again, and then it's too late. I regret even coming with her, I should have listened to Johnny. The feeling just grows stronger in me, and I notice some details destroying the picture of her as a Social worker, like the coffee spot on her collar, her wrinkled skirt and down bitten nails and her scaled off nail polish. Mrs. Garcia never looked like that, and she had a nicer car. The one we ride in is a twin to Two-Bit's jalopy.
But she must be a Social worker. Why else would she come and get me? And Darry... Darry trusts her. Maybe I should do too. Try to. I want to believe her words, and I remember them all, and I want to believe that I did the right thing coming with her, that Darry will win the custody back if I just do as she says. It was my fault that he lost it in the first place, so maybe I just get what I deserve. I will learn my lesson, I swear. If only I can come back home again.
"Oh, right," Sarah Wells says. "We're here to pick up another boy too. You're not the only kid who needs... my help."
I press my lips together. I guess that explains it then, why we're driving on this street. Maybe that's why she seems nervous too, coming as a lonely woman in this neighborhood, it's even worse than mine.
She pulls the car over to the curb outside an apartment building, parks and takes out the keys.
"I want you to come with me," she says urgent. "I can't leave you alone here. It's not safe."
"O-kay." Slowly I lock up my seat belt and climb out. She hurries around, grips my arm again, but this time the sleeve of my jacket, and drags me along. The glass in the door into the building is cracked, everything feels dirty and broken around here, and I don't like it.
"We have to take the stairs," she says. "The elevator is broken."
She ushers me forward, and I go ahead, climb upward. The stairwell smells bad. "Don't stop," she says when I hesitate.
"I don't think I-" I start, but she interrupts me.
"It only takes a minute, Ponyboy, and then we'll be back in the car again, okay? I promise you the boys home will be better than this."
On the third floor she digs up a key from her purse, opens up a door. "Go inside."
I should know better, but I do as she says.
The room is empty. Two doors stand ajar, revealing a small kitchen and a small bathroom behind them, otherwise, the only thing in the apartment is a mattress on the floor, a lot of beer bottles, most of them empty, and a full ashtray. I glance up at the lamp as Sarah flicks the light on, it's only a naked bulb hanging from a cord.
Behind my back the door is closed and I turn around in time to see Sarah lock it.
"What are you doin'?" I frown, trying not to show that I'm scared. Besides, I don't think I have to be. She's just slightly taller than me, but I am better built even if I'm skinny. I'm stronger than her.
"I'm sorry, Ponyboy," she says, drops the keys back into her purse. "We have to wait."
The realization finally hits me, too late, but I think I already knew before, and I want to curse myself for being so stupid. "You're not a Social worker!" I spit at her. "Let me go! Gimme the keys!"
I have to get out from here, and I move forward, but it happens so fast I don't stand a chance. She puts a knee hard between my legs and slaps me across my face, and I'm down on the floor, whining, unable to do anything, almost not even breathe.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956
He doesn't really know why he continues seeing them, go to their house, babysit the boys when asked to. It's bittersweet. He hates it and he loves it. He feels a rage when he sees Darrel with Anne, Darrel with the boys, happy moments, smiles and all the goddamn love. It's pathetic, but in the same time, there's a wish to be a part of it.
It could have been his, all of it. He could have had the same. A family, a life, another future, another past. So he keeps coming, keeps watching keeps... wishing.
But it's not getting easier to hide the hate. Sometimes he has to clench his teeth hard to be able to smile. Maybe that's why he curls his hands around the little boy's neck when they're alone. Not hard. Not choking. Just enough to sense the panic. Maybe that's why he still whispers his threats to him, because he likes to see the green eyes widen. He knows he will shut up too. The only one he can get, small enough, scared enough, and it's satisfying. The power is in his hands for once.
It doesn't explain the park, though. Why he crossed the line.
He has no idea why he showed him, told him, did what he did. Only Luke knew before, and the only reason he told Luke was because of the nightmares.
But now he stares at the boy in the grass, the boy he just...
-goddamnit-
...and the boy he just pushed away, and he knows he went to far. He drags his hands over his mouth, through his hair, breathes in his palms to try to calm down. He needs to calm down, memories rushes over him, and he won't panic here, not now, not ever.
He has become them. What they did to him... and now he's about to do the same. To a little kid. It's disgusting. He could hate himself even more, but he doesn't. He knows who to blame, who to hate, and he does, he hates Darrel. It's him, it's his fault, it's him who has created this man he has become.
"It's your daddy's fault," he hisses, angry now, in a try to explain to a tear filled face. "I just want him to suffer, like I did."
Then. "No, I want worse. I want him dead!"
And it's then he realizes, it's true. He wants him dead so fucking badly, to make things all right again. He's sure it will make himself better again. It will erase the past, take away the nightmares. Go back to the source, to what caused it all. The betrayal the night he got caught and what happened afterwards, everything.
Darrel deserves to die.
He grins.
"C'mon boy... let's go to daddy, all right?"
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
He's not a runner but he runs anyway. At first he doesn't know where, because following the car is an impossible mission even if it's the first thought that crosses his mind. Follow Pony. But the car disappears and he realizes what he has to do. Get Soda.
He should have, the first time, when Pony asked him, but right then he didn't want to leave him. Maybe he's not smart, in any way at all, but sometimes he can read people. It's in their eyes and body language, the signs of betrayal. He always knows when his dad is about to hit or kick him, he can sense it even though not block it, he always knows, and that woman was no good. He doesn't know how, but something wasn't right.
He jerks the door open to the DX, almost trip on the threshold, and Soda looks up at him from behind the counter.
"Hey, Johnny."
"It's Pony," Johnny says, catching his breath.
Even from this distance, he can see how Soda pales. "What? What about Pony? What happened?" He rushes around the counter. "Johnny?" He grabs his shoulders, almost shakes him.
He speaks fast. "She - she said she was from the state, that she was gonna take him to a boys home."
"Oh god," Soda breathes, letting Johnny go. "Fuckin' damnit!" He clenches his fists, wants to punch something. "I can't fuckin' believe it! She can't do this! She said-"
"It wasn't her," Johnny interrupts. "It was someone else." His dark eyes are wide.
"What?"
"She wasn't your real Social worker. She said those stuff to him, that Darry had agreed with her to come and get him, and -"
"Wait- what?" Soda exclaims. "The hell are you talkin' about, Johnny?"
Johnny still breathes hard from the running when he tells.
"Darry wouldn't do that," Soda says pleading when he's finished, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to collect his thoughts. "Why would Pony think that? I mean, c'mon..."
"He was upset," Johnny says quietly.
Soda turns around. "I have to call Darry."
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1943
He parks his car on her driveway, facing the house. The light is on in the kitchen, as always, her mom sits up waiting for her to come home. Anne waits too. He doesn't move, so she places her hand on his arm.
"Darrel?"
He sighs. He can't tell her, but he can't lie to her either. She's the best thing that ever happened to him, he still can't really believe she wants to be with him. Of all people, him. He is nothing. Become nothing when his dad died, was nothing until Henry came up with his stupid ideas. They weren't stupid then, when he suddenly could wear decent clothes again, eat decent meals. Ask her out.
He glances at her, wondering how much she really knows about his past. What he has done. He's not proud of it, it was survival, and he stopped when he got his job, he can tell her that and maybe she will forgive him. Maybe she will still want him.
"I ain't a good person," he says, a bit defeated. She deserves the truth. He has never loved anyone like he love her, and he never will. If she wants to go after this, leave him, he will let her. She deserves so much more.
"You are," Anne says. "I love you, Darrel."
He grips the steering wheel. "You don't know what I've done," he says.
She lets go of his arm, and he knows it's over. But then she snorts.
"Oh come on, Darrel. I ain't stupid. I was born on this side of the tracks too, you know."
He stares at her and she smiles. "I don't care, Darrel."
"You don't?" He's perplexed.
"No. 'Cause I know you don't do it anymore."
Not anymore. It was months ago, last time after their fifth date, when he suddenly got lucky and got his job. But others aren't that lucky. He has to say it. "Henry wants my help tonight. He helped me before."
She frowns a bit. "You're not plannin' to help him are you? Is it serious?"
"Yeah." God. Robbery. He can't do it. He doesn't know what people Henry surrounds himself with these days, but he knows he wants no part of it.
"Darrel?"
"It feels like I let him down if I don't - I betray him if I don't..."
"Look at me." He does. "You have changed, Darrel. Don't change back. I can't be with you if you change back."
"I won't."
"I mean it, Darrel. You have to choose between him and me."
It's a simple choice. He smiles, walks out of the car and rounds it, opens up her door. When she steps out he kisses her. Gentle. He follows her inside, sits by the kitchen table with her mom, drinking coffee, like adults. An hour later he drives home, and he never hear the sirens, don't know a thing about Henry, his hands cuffed behind his back, his body slammed into a car.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
When I can move again, I sit up with effort. I look at her. She stands by the door, like she guards it, and she hasn't said a word about what's going on. I keep my mouth clamped, not sure what she's able to do. I still have Soda's blade with me, and I wonder if I'm even able to use it. I have seen Two-Bit and Dally and Steve with blades in their hands, even Soda, but it has mostly been for show. No real threats, never blood. When they fight, they always use their fists.
"Let me go," I mutter, crawl up on my knees. It still hurts.
"No."
With my gaze on her, I wobble up to my feet, stick down my hand in my pocket, grab the handle.
"What do you have there?" she says. Her eyes narrow, focus on my hand, still in my pocket. "Don't try anything," she warns me.
"I don't know who you are," I complain. "You don't even know me, why are you doin' this? Let me go home!"
"I know who you are," she says. "Ponyboy Curtis."
I take up the knife, flick out the blade and holds it like I have seen the others do, in a not too tight grip, arm bent and the sharp pointing edge towards her. I meet her eyes. "Let. Me. Go!"
"You wouldn't use that."
I try to look tough. Like I don't care. Like I would be able to stab the blade into her stomach without a doubt. I take a step forward, slowly, and the pain increase, and goddamnit, I hope I will be able to run. I bite my lip.
"I'll use it, all right," I threat her. She moves, closer, stands only an inch from the blade in my hand. I feel it start tremble, and of course she notices.
"You're too sweet to use it. You're just a little boy."
I jerk the knife away from her, take a few steps back. In the same moment, someone stick their keys in the door from the hallway outside, and it flings open.
Maybe I should be prepared, but I'm not. I'm not prepared for the person walking in.
"What the hell?"
I jerk at the voice shouting out. Henry closes the door behind him, glares at me with cold eyes, and I feel how I pale, walk backwards in the room, away from him, until my back hits the wall on the other side of the room. Henry turns to Sarah.
"What the hell is this?"
She puts her chin up, gestures toward me. "It's Ponyboy. I told you I can give you everything." She loops her arm around his, strokes it with her other hand.
"Goddamnit," Henry growls, turns around again to stare at me.
Sarah follows him in his movement, steps up beside him, says casually, with a little smile, her eyes on me, "You can kill him now so we can leave."
Oh, I managed to do a cliffy, right?
Thanks for reading! Hope you like it! Thanks to everyone that reviews and especially you I can't thank personally in PM's.