AN: Hey, guys I'm really really really etc. sorry that i haven't updated as often as usual, but i'm on vacation and it was HELL trying to get internet access. I finally got it though. Just don't ask questions, i can't tell you or i might be brought in for hooking up to somebody else's wireless without their permission. Ah...not that i did that... Anywho, the story is finally here! Read! Review! Write stories for me to read! Thanx.
Chapter 15
Darry pulls the truck up to the front of the school and I look at it skeptically. I give him one last look, to which he orders abruptly,
"Nice try, kiddo, but get to class." I reluctantly hop out of the car and awkwardly make my way down the hallway. A lot of people are staring at me like they've never seen me before. I don't think they expected I would ever be back here. I think the story was covered by a couple newspapers and was probably in the news, but my brothers never said anything and I haven't seen any newspapers recently. I look for room 237, Ms. Harlan. I finally find the room and hand her the note explaining how I'm new and she'll need to help me catch up probably and all that stuff. She smiles at me kindly and motions to a seat in the front.
"You feel free to move if you want after your cast is off." She says, "I just don't want you having too much trouble getting in and out of here." I nod silently and smile shyly, setting my things down at the desk and taking my seat. I, unlike most of the other kids here, don't really have any friends in this grade. I mostly hang out with the gang; they're all in high school. It's all right though, I've become used to loning it. The bell rings and students scurry in, talking rambunctiously and sitting in their seats after a few moments of bustling. Ms. Harlan stands up and smiles down at her students. "Good morning, everybody."
"Good morning Ms. Harlan." The class choruses back brightly, obviously a daily ritual.
"Today we have a student returning to us. I'm sure you all know him, but for those who don't, this is Ponyboy Curtis." She motions to me and this time there's no laughter. People are used to my odd name here. They look at me, probably wondering if the stories are true. I'm almost curious as to what they say. They turn their attention back to the teacher as she releases us into group reading. I've come in time for the new book, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle. Oh boy. Some kids from my neighborhood pull chairs up next to me. I expect this because greasers usually work with me when they want a good grade but don't want to actually work. They smirk at me as we bring out our books and I nod curtly back. We talk in low voices; they fill me in casually about the recent happenings on the North Side. Then we take turns reading paragraphs when Ms. Harlan comes around. We figure we might as well continue after we've started and get through the first twenty pages by the time she tells us it's time to switch to math. We gratefully put down our books, it's truthfully not all that exciting of a story, and arrange the room back to its previous position. I write careful notes about integers, taking in the information as best I can. I remind myself to ask Darry about it later. I don't see how you can have less than nothing.
At lunch I sit quietly by myself, eating between pages of Oliver Twist. I thought to bring a book with me this morning, for which I am grateful. I dump the plastic plate in the garbage as the bell rings and dog-ear my page. Upon returning to class we are told to bring out our history textbooks and read about the War of 1812. After that we talked about the structure of the atom for science. At one o'clock we leave class and go to gym class. Everyday at this time we do something different. Monday is gym, Tuesday we go to library, Wednesday there's art, Thursday we have music, and Friday the guys go to woodshop while the girls have home ec. I actually don't get to participate in gym because of my cast. I'm getting the thing off in a week. I honestly can't wait. I sit in the bleachers and watch my classmates run around the gym and play dodge ball. Then there's only five minutes left of school, we go back to our classroom to get our stuff before the bell rings. Ms. Harlan announces homework while she still has the chance. Once the bell rings, the building full of mostly well-behaved children turns into a free-for-all chaotic state as kids stampede out of the building, finally released to be with their friends in an unconfined setting. I make my way out of the building as the hallways gradually clear. Soda's leaning against the wall with an annoyed-looking Steve at his side. Johnny's there as well. I work my way toward them silently. Soda shifts off the wall, Steve turns to start walking and Johnny smiles at me welcomingly. I smile back,
"Hey Johnny," I greet him quietly, "how's it going?"
"Can't complain," he says with a shrug, "I gotta figure something about finding 'x' for math…"
I smile and say, "Let me look at it. Hey, do you understand integers? How can you have less than nothing?"
Johnny smiles, "Yeah, that annoyed me too. I guess you just…can."
I roll my eyes and say sarcastically, "Gee, thanks, that helps. I guess I'll ask Darry or something. He's not going to be home 'til later, though, so I'll help you out."
"Do you know anything about finding variables?" Steve says snidely.
Soda shoves him roughly, "Aw, let him alone. He's a genius, after all." Steve scoffs and I lower my head from habit. A Corvair drives by and the boys inside shout at us
"Greasers!" Steve and Soda act as if nothing has happened while Johnny tenses. We get home within a couple minutes and Soda and Steve sit down at a small table, starting to deal cards. Poker. Johnny and I sit down at the kitchen table, pulling homework out of our bags. Mr. Harrison is in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
"Hello, Mr. Harrison." I greet him politely. He nods in response and I feel watched as we sit down. I pull my chair next to Johnny's and look at the problems.
"Ok, so you want to get the letter by itself." I start to explain to him, "So, in this one the problem is 6x – 11 13. First you bring the eleven over to the right by adding it to thirteen. That's twenty-four. Then you divide by six to get x alone, so your answer is four." I draw it out for him and he nods slowly.
"I think" Johnny says with an apologetic look, "if you do one more I'll be able to do the rest." I nod and begin the next one before starting answering questions for history and filling out a worksheet on atoms. I do the math homework skeptically and look up at Mr. Harrison with sudden inspiration.
"Hey, can you look at this?" He seems surprised by the request, but he looks at my work carefully. When he hands it back he says simply,
"It's all right."
"I thought you didn't understand it." Johnny points out accusingly.
"I don't understand the concept." I reply, then turn to Mr. Harrison, "How can a person have less than nothing?" He looks as if he's trying to find a way to explain it.
"Well, you know that adults have bank accounts and checking books, right?" He begins, to which we nod. "Sometimes adults forget how much money they have in their accounts and they'll write out a check for more money than they actually have, so they owe money. Let's say a person has a hundred dollars and they write out a check for a hundred and thirty-five. The bank doesn't say he owes thirty-five dollars, they simply say that the account has negative thirty-five dollars in it."
"That makes sense." I say, "Thanks." Mr. Harrison nods and leaves the kitchen.
"He's an alright guy." Johnny observes after Mr. Harrison is gone, "He's nice enough, even if he don't have that much to say." I raise my eyebrow at the irony of this statement and Johnny defends, "Well, adults are supposed to talk!" I shake my head and jump up to answer the phone as it begins to ring.
"Hello?" Darry's voice comes back through the phone,
"Hey Ponyboy, I just called to make sure you were home. We've got an appointment with an attorney today when I get home. Is your homework done?" I walk over to the opening and look at Soda, who looks at me curiously.
"Yeah, Darry, I did my homework." Soda gets the clue and runs to get his book bag. Steve slouches in his chair and looks around for something to do.
"What about Soda?" Darry asks, "Has he done his?"
"He's doing it now." I respond.
Darry continues, "Good, good. I'll be home by five. We'll eat dinner and go to the office, the appointment is at six. Tell Soda to get his homework done by the time I get home or he's going to stay behind to finish it." Darry and Soda are avoiding each other for the most part. They don't want to have a blowout in front of the state worker. It's only a matter of time though, with all the guilt and blame Soda has stored up inside of him over me. Soda was never able to hold a grudge before.
I respond tiredly, "Alright, Darry. Go back to work. I'll make dinner so you don't have to."
"Thanks Pone." I sigh and hang up. I remember Darry's command and yell over my shoulder,
"Soda, I've got to go to some appointment with an attorney at six. Darry says if your homework isn't done when he gets home you can't come." Soda slams the door and stomps into the kitchen, sitting down and explaining shortly,
"I can't concentrate in the room." I nod and start digging around for pans. I fill one with water and set it on the stove for it to boil. The other is smaller and I fill it with sauce. Then I find some pasta to put in the boiling pot. I find some bread and manage to make garlic bread, which I stick in the oven. Soda continues to work diligently even as I set the table and prepare to take the food out and put it on the table. Soda shuts his last book just as I pull the garlic bread out of the stove and the door shuts. Johnny stares wide-eyed at the food and Darry stops when he sees it. I set the pans on the table and say in a snobbish voice,
"Dinner is served." Darry smiles and we all sit around the table. Darry and Mr. Harrison sit at either end of the table, Soda and I sit on the left and Johnny and Steve sit on the right. We make up our bowls and eat. I must say, it's pretty good. After we've finished, Darry stands up and starts gathering dishes.
"The chef," He says sternly as I stand to help, "never cleans up. C'mon, Soda." Soda gets up and the two of them clean up the kitchen as Steve and Johnny leave to go home. After that Soda, Darry, Mr. Harrison, and I pile into the car and Darry drives us to the office, which is thankfully in middle-class territory. I don't think I'd like to have a Soc attorney. We sit in the waiting room as Darry speaks with the secretary. Soon a woman comes out and calls us into the office.
She leads us down a corridor and into a room with a big wooden desk. Chairs sit before it neatly and a woman looks up from paperwork and rises to meet us.
"Do come in," she exclaims happily, "I've been preparing for you." She shakes Darry's hand as he offers it and we all sit down in the seat. She sits back behind her desk. She folds her hands on top of the desk as the door closes. She looks at me and says gently,
"I'm Ms. Sueno. You must be Ponyboy." I nod and she continues, "Now, we're going to try to build a case for your brother to be guardian and for Mr. Lilc to go to jail. Before we start though, you and I must come to an agreement. I need you to cooperate to the fullest extent and tell me as much as you possibly can. I may also need you to go to a psychiatrist to prove that the experience has traumatized you and such. Do we have an agreement?"
I nod, "I don't want to go back there…" She smiles warmly and takes out a pad of paper,
"I need you to tell me about the months you spent with Mr. Lilc. Of course, we only have an hour session every day, so we're going to start and see where we get. Then we'll continue tomorrow." Can I really do this? It's painful to relive. The flashbacks and nightmares that plague me constantly terrorize me without having to talk about it. Can I really explain everything, with my brothers sitting right there? They're already guilty enough. I remind myself forcefully, I won't go back there. I take in a breath and begin in a shaky voice,
"The first time I knew something was wrong was on the car ride home. He pulled into a brothel and paid his 'wife', who got out of the car. Then he told me she was a whore and he had a record. I asked him what he was going to do with me and he punched me across the face…"