Thank you all for the kind reviews and helpful grammar and spelling hints. I hope everyone enjoys the second chapter. I don't own The Outsiders
-The Youngest Writer
Chapter 2-Short Shadows, Sun Sky High.
It was summer once again, cold nights left the now sunshine Tulsa, Oklahoma as Sodapop got ready for work. He held back a giggle when he saw Ponyboy in the bathroom mirror looking for any hair on his face. Sneaking up behind his little brother somehow Ponyboy didn't spot him in the mirror and he surprised him with a kiss on his cheek.
"Nope, not growing up today, Ponyboy."
Ponyboy narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
"That makes no sense and it's impossible to 'not grow up', Sodapop" Ponyboy didn't mind being coddled once in a while, but ever since he returned from Windrixvill, Soda had raised his "brother love" through the roof. Ponyboy guessed it was best to ignore it and maybe Soda would knock it off.
Since it was Summer, Ponyboy knew within the first week, report cards would come in. Ponyboy knew he had managed to pass all of his classes, but he was still worried of what Darry would say.
"Well, I'm passing, he couldn't yell at me for that, it'd be stupid." Pony mumbled to himself.
"Who ya' talkin' to?"
Pony turned seeing Soda slip on his shoes.
"Well, myself. I needed a genius' opinion."
Soda laughed at that. "That's a good one, Ponyboy."
Later that day, Steve and Two-bit came over. As much as Ponyboy was annoyed to see Steve, he was curious as to why Two-Bit looked nicer than usual. His hair wasn't mopped with as much grease, he had on a clean shirt and jeans with no holes.
"You look nice, what's the occasion?" Ponyboy asked.
Two-bit sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Ponyboy, you won't believe me, but I died this morning. Yup, at seven o' clock. I died in my bed."
Ponyboy was confused when Steve rolled his eyes.
"His mom woke him up saying she filled out an application to The Dingo and now he's got an interview."
Ponyboy could hardly believe his ears.
"Really? That's wonderful, Two-Bit." Ponyboy was really impressed by Two-bit, turning his life around and getting a job. Two-bit didn't look too happy when he tried to crack open a beer only having it taken away from him.
"Going to work smelling like beer? That's good." Steve rolled his eyes as Two-bit huffed.
"I don't see the point in all of this, I mean if I absolutely need something, I'll just steal it."
"Great accomplishment, buddy." Steve patted his shoulder then left to the kitchen. Ponyboy only smiled.
"I think it's great, Two-bit. Now you can buy things with your own money and-"
"Still, it's stupid!" Two-bit groaned walking to the TV to plop down and turn on Mickey Mouse. "Man, I gotta' be there in less than three hours."
"Better get washed up, than." Darry spoke, walking into the room. He poured himself a cup of coffee, sliding on his work boots. Ponyboy watched Darry like a hawk, for all the years he's known Darry, he knew Darry wasn't a morning person. He kept his eye on him, just to make sure he wouldn't spill coffee on him.
Since Steve was standing right next to Darry, Steve took it as Ponyboy was watching him.
"What are you looking at?" Steve snared.
Pony's eyes narrowed.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
"Smart ass! He's a smart-ass kid!"
After everyone left (along with an embarrassing kiss goodbye from Soda) It was just Pony in the house.
Well, Pony and Dally.
Pony's eyes adverted to Darry's door. Dallas was sleeping there while Darry took Soda's old room. Ponyboy didn't want a repeat of what happened last time, but he felt Dallas needed something to eat; he was still shook up from the last time Dallas "politely" asked him to leave so he slowly opened the door, but the wider he opened, the fast her did.
The curtains were blowing in the gentle wind and the bed was unmade.
Dallas was gone.
Pony felt a lump in his throat. He couldn't believe Dallas would leave like that. For some reason he felt Dallas was just as gone as Johnny was. That made him feel lonelier than ever.
Tulsa, 1924
Two children at a book skipped rocks, barefoot and enjoying the summer wind.
"I tell ya' it don't get any better than this." A boy with raven hair and a cowlick in the back answered. He allowed the tiny fish to nibble at his toes as he stretched allowing the cool air to linger around his hot body.
He must have been around twelve-years-old. He was a little small for his age, he wore a large, but tight white shirt and black pants he rolled up to his knees.
He looked over at another boy, sitting in the grass away from the creek. He too wore a white dress shirt and black pants, but with overalls.
"You'll get in trouble if teacher finds out," The boy on the grass replied. "It'll be a paddle."
"Nah, I'm thinking more along the lines of a willow tree slash to my ass." The boy laughed, but left the creek to sit next to his friend. The boy with suspenders had black, semi-long hair and bright blue eyes. He was oddly pale and looked uncomfortable in the sun.
"So, did your Dad come home yet?" The brunette asked his friend.
"No," His friend replied. "I think he ran out on us. We didn't get a letter from the Army confirming his death, nor did a missing-in-action list come. He's gone."
His friend smiled sheepishly, patting his friend's back. "Ya' stuck with me then."
The raven haired boy smiled.
"What would I do without you, Darrel?"
A young Darrel Curtis smiled. "Probably have a boring life." He stood up to stretch some more. "Well, should we get back to school? Or do you want to go home early?"
"Well, mother would be mad if I skipped again, Darrel. You know how picky she's been." The blue-eyed boy stood up, collecting his books and rolling his sleeves down to his wrists. It wasn't too hot and he could get away with long sleeves.
Darrel on the other hand kept them rolled up to his shoulders and his pants crookedly loose on his hips.
"Suit yourself. Want to head into town when we're done?" He asked, walking back to the school house only a mile away.
"I don't have any money." His friend replied.
"Nah, Freddy, who said anything about buying? Every gone window shopping?" Darrel smirked. Fredrick and Darrel were inseparable since they met so many years ago. It was a friendship that was accommodating. Darrel the wild and free-spirit. Then Freddy, the quiet, timid one who'd rather read a book than anything.
"I do have to get home."
Darrel just smiled, arms behind his head as they walked to the wooden, five room school house.
"You know, you're my family, right?" Darrel smiled, turning to Freddy. Freddy just gazed on with aura-blue eyes. Darrel's smirk reassuring and caring.
Freddy smiled softly.
"Blood brothers for life." The two held hands, walking into the building. Two short shadows lingered along the walls of the crust-paint and wooden walls of the school.
Locked together,
Inseparable.
Ponyboy sat in the room, staring at the walls. He was trying to process the fact that Dallas was gone. He just left them. Like he arrive so long ago, found sleeping in their living room, beat up and bloody, he was gone without a trace.
Did he do the same when he was in New York?
Ponyboy sighed, folding his hands together, closing his eyes. He needed to do the laundry or Darry would have a fit.
He went digging through piles of Soda's tossed-away DX shirts and left over pants on the floor. He had a large arm full and fell over a beer can in the hallway.
"Damn it, Two-bit!" Ponyboy cursed. He wished he hadn't fallen, he was right outside his parent's room.
Ponyboy hadn't stepped in there in over six months. . . .wait. . . was it that long? Ponyboy swallowed another lump seeing the door was cracked open. Ever so gently he creaked open the door. Everything was how it was just before they died.
The bed was still made, just dusty.
His mother's vanity was left untouched with bottles of crystal perfume and jewelry hanging. His father's tool box was neer the closet and his boots and his. . . Ponyboy felt sick.
Quickly he stood up and raced to the bathroom to empty his stomach.
". . . .can't go in there." He reminded himself. "Can't. . . .go."
The laundry would wait.
Thank you all, I'll update soon. Please leave a review.
-The Youngest Writer.
