Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.
Georgia O'Keeffe
XXXXX
"Are you asking me on a date, Ponyboy Curtis?" Cathy crossed her arms, and smirked. Her grey eyes almost twinkled, but that could have been effects of the buzzing light fixture directly above her.
Or the too-many-hours-on-sailboat-lolling-across-the-Arkansas-River nausea Pony felt creep up his throat.
Great, he was going to vomit all over her.
Although Pony had a few inches on her, this morning she loomed over him, her easy going confidence crafted into imaginary stiletto heels. Pony would never have Darry's made by Jack LaLanne body, and even Soda, though he had a lean panther like physique, made Pony feel like a collection of sticks in comparison. Short sticks, the type of sticks that girls in stilettos crush into fine powder and turn into compost.
Well, at least the birds will be happy.
Pony looked down at his Converse. He might as well be barefoot.
Despite the runaway train of thoughts derailing his brain, Pony tried to look as unbothered as possible.
What the hell was wrong with him? He had no fear of good skin on skin fight, didn't even fear Darry's temper no more, but asking a nice girl like Cathy Carlson on a little date and he was nervous and jumpy as all git out.
Pony really wished Soda or Johnny were with him. He scoffed, no, he needed to this on his own, shit, he was fourteen. The worse she could say was no.
Ponyboy scratched the back of his head; why did his head always itch when he was nervous? He casually moved his hand behind his head, his elbow resting against the locker, trying his best to ape the casual coolness he'd seen from Tim Shepard.
Shit, what a role model to emulate. He almost laughed at the thought of Tim Shepard being his model for how to look when he was asking Cathy Carlson on a date. Besides Shepard probably didn't even need to ask, with his JD smoldering looks and rap sheet he was a magnet pulling in girls wanting to give her father a coronary; if their dad was still around, in their neighborhood, a hit or miss.
He was planning on asking Cathy to Homecoming, he really was, but he figured he should at least ask her on a regular date first.
Cathy cracked a laugh, her eyes though grey sparkled and her mouth curved into a grin that was, hot. He never thought of a girl's grin being sexy before, hell, he never thought of anything as being sexy and it may have been his nerves or the extra chocolate cake he had for breakfast, but she was mesmerizing in a way he never saw before.
She reached her hand out and touched Pony's wrist. Her hands were warm to the touch. "I'm sorry, I'm just joking, of course, I'd love to go."
That was it? That was almost too easy. Pony waited for the other shoe to drop.
Cathy broke through his thoughts, "so, if it isn't a state secret, where are we going? It is dressy-casual?"
Dressy casual? What the hell was she even talking about? But Cathy looked earnest, as if this was an actual good question that required a serious response.
Pony shrugged, "I don't know." He felt a twinge of pain he really wished his mom was still around, she'd know what dressy-casual meant. Hell, even Darry, with the Socy gals he used to date, would be able to tell him what 'dressy casual' meant.
Whatever 'dressy casual' meant it sounded way above what Pony could afford.
Pony shrugged, "I'm thinking about just going down to the Ribbon, you know, nothing major." Pony wanted to kick himself with Cathy's invisible heels. What girl wanted to hear that a date with her was 'nothing major?' Well, there it was folks, the shortest relationship in human history.
Forget Readers Digest, maybe he could contact the good people at Guinness Book of World Records. His ears burned red with embarrassment.
But as Pony folded into self-pity, Cathy only grinned, "that sounds great, it would get me a chance to get out of this," she pointed contemptuously to her dress. Pony didn't notice it before, but it was an inch or two shorter than the usual jumpers she wore. She had nice legs.
"You look nice," Pony said smiling and he meant it, but he wish he could find something more intelligent to say, something that would express how pretty she was, how much he enjoyed being with her. That seeing Cathy at school was the only good thing in his day. But Pony's tongue got twisted and his mind felt thick and fuzzy, yet oddly empty.
Girls liked being complimented, even at fourteen year old Ponyboy Curtis knew that, but Cathy only rolled her eyes, "I hate wearing dresses, I have homework to do, so do you want to pick me up after 7:00? I have to be home by 9:00 so that should give us enough time. Does that work for you?"
Pony's eyes darted back and forth, he hadn't even thought about all that, but Cathy was as organized and take charge as Darry, but hot.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Cathy grinned, "great, oh, you should plan to arrive about fifteen minutes early, my dad is going to want to meet you first." She squeezed his arm, "I'll see you tonight!"
Pony smiled weakly but as soon as Cathy turned the corner, his head slammed against the back of the locker, meet her parents? Glory this was turning out more complicated than he thought.
XXXXX
Art class was a fuckin' blast as normal. Ol' Girdle bitching about some painting, Ella Mitchell kept on glancing over at him, the girl with the weird eyebrows grinning like a damn loon. It was enough to drive a man batty.
Speakin' of batty…
"How are you coming along with your project, Mr. Winston?" The middle aged woman asked as the class was busy free drawing one of the model hands.
"You mean the picture or Homecoming? Cause thanks to you I got a bunch of "projects" to work on," Dal slammed his pencil against the notebook.
"Well, if you ever need any extra help, I'm always here," the teacher said brightly and Dally hated how no matter how hard he tried, she never lost it with him. Most teachers gave up on Dallas Winston before the second day but this dame was still a fucking pain in his ass.
"How's your portrait coming along? It's worth a good percentage of your final grade," if there was any nerves in her voice, she hid it well.
Dally grinned and if ol'Girdle had any brains she'd be scared shitless of his grin, cause Dal's grin was one of the most dangerous things about him; but her face showed no sign of worry, instead she leaned towards him a bit more.
"Oh you mean the picture of you Mrs. Girdle? How is it coming along? Fine and Dandy. I've decided to draw you as a sun, a big ol' ray of sunshine." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
She should be relieved he wasn't drawing her as a piece of shit. Don't think he wasn't tempted. Fuck, after she forced him to join that pansy ass Homecoming Committee he was itching to get back at her.
Her only response was a closed mouth smile.
"That sounds wonderful Mr. Winston; I'm looking forward to seeing the finished project."
She walked to another desk and began to talk to another student.
"Yup" Dally said under his breath, "a big ol' ball of gas."
He scribbled furiously on his sheet of paper.
XXXXX
"Hey girlie, come here."
Ella Mitchell gritted her teeth and gathered her art supplies and text books, she felt every muscle of her body tighten up with frustration and anger.
"My name is Ella, Dallas" she said his name with expanded contempt and weariness.
Dal sighed impatiently, "whatever, come here your highness." Ella popped a piece of gum in her mouth and letting the saliva wrap around the gum stick; she walked over to Dally Winston.
Why did she let him talk to her this way?
"What's going on," his harsh voice hitting her like a fierce wind, his arms crossed and his whole body stiff, as if she was inconveniencing him and not the other way around.
"With Vickie?" Ella felt her face grow hot she hadn't mentioned to the girls what Vickie had said about Evie.
"No, with the fuckin' Queen of England, of course with Vickie." Dally was in a fucking pissed off mood and trying to get a conversation with Ella going was not putting the edge off at all.
Ella sighed, she hadn't talked to the girls about Vickie Harper yet, Vickie didn't exactly lend herself to fun conversation but it was more than that. Ella never saw herself as a forceful girl, as a girl who was a crowd leader. Evie, Cathy, even Bridget, had more confidence than Ella could ever muster.
What Ella could do was be a friend. She liked Evie, and she liked Bridget she didn't want to play monkey in the middle in this crazy greaser-Soc war she just wanted to get through the year in peace, was that too much to ask?
"I'm getting to it." Ella said in an exasperated tone. If Dally was so concerned shouldn't he talk to Evie himself?
"Yeah, well the longer you take your sweet time girlie, the more I'm thinkin' that maybe there is something going on and Bridget Stevens got her snooty ass sticking where it don't belong." Dallas gave her a contemptuous grin.
Ella felt anger climb through her stomach and up her throat until it wasn't just fresh mint saliva sloshing around in her mouth.
She was sick and sad that it seemed that no matter how hard Bridget tried no one was giving her a chance. Bridget, as far as Ella was concerned had already made amends for her comment in English class ten times over.
"Bridget has nothing to do with what Vickie is planning."
A slow smirk burned on Dallas's mouth, "so you admit that Vickie is planning something for Martin?"
Ella burned with frustration, "you're the one who told me that Vickie was setting Evie up!"
Dallas, his face blank and unreadable looked the blue haired girl in the eyes, "for someone who claims to be Evie's friend you sure as hell suck at it."
Ella stormed out of the room, as she passed a poster of Vickie staring down at her like a warped Mother Theresa of Calcutta, her stomach sank inwards, Dallas Winston was right.
XXXXX
Cathy Carlson had to tell Bridget Stevens her good news. She wanted to tell Ella, but she had never had a chance during art class, the older girl looked preoccupied, occasionally glancing back at Dallas Winston the entire class period.
"Bridget!" Cathy happily cried out, ignoring the glances as she walked up to her friend. She was not one to give into exuberant displays of emotions, but she couldn't help it, today there were still butterflies in her stomach, but instead of making her feel sick, she felt as if she could fly.
Bridget turned and smiled at her younger friend.
"I have a date!" Cathy's eyes glowed and for the first time the fifteen year old didn't look older than her years. There was something so earnest in her expression.
Bridget grin broke over her face; she was genuinely thrilled for her friend. Bridget liked having someone to look after, she didn't have any siblings of her own, but she liked feeling almost like an older sister to the younger girl. It was funny, she felt happier for Cathy than she did for herself for anything as of late.
"That's fantastic! Maybe we can double date?" She winked at Cathy as pulled a textbook from the top shelf of the locker.
Cathy chuckled, "oh my gosh, Pony and Jerry would probably talk sports the entire time."
Bridget let out a soft laugh to hide her sigh, it wasn't Jerry she had in mind.
Neither girl noticed that Vickie Harper lurked two lockers down, listening to it all.
XXXXX
Ella felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, Bridget and Cathy were happily chatting away and Ella didn't want to interrupt them, but she needed advice.
Nervously, she tapped Cathy on the shoulders, "can I talk to you girls?"
Cathy nodded with concern, "of course, what's wrong?"
Ella only shook her head, "in private," and pointed to the girl's bathroom.
Ella opened the bathroom door, the worry and dread on her face palpable.
Bridget looked concerned as well, but unlike Cathy who was hovering over Ella, she stood back a few feet.
Ella sighed, "If someone was spreading rumors about you, would want to know?"
Bridget shook her head no, "I don't think so, I mean, I guess it depends on what kind of rumors and who's spreading them, but sometimes it better not to know what people really think about you. You can't change their opinion of you no matter how hard you try." There was a tint of melancholy in her voice, and Cathy's eyebrow shot up, wondering what Bridget was talking about.
It was odd, Bridget was in Cathy's mind, the epitome of cool and sophisticated, she was from New York for Pete's sake! But Cathy knew from her time at Graves that rich and sophisticated people, not that there were that many at the private Quaker run school, were no more immune from problems than anyone else.
Cathy crinkled her nose and looked at Ella with curiosity, interested in what her friend had to say. She knew for a fact that no one was spreading rumors about her, she was too boring. Cathy, absent mindedly stroking her purse that held her secret smokes, half-way wished she led the type of life that could inspire rumors.
Not dirty ones of course, but she wanted to turn heads to be the center of attention, to be not just Cathy Carlson oldest of the seven Carlson kids, but Cathy Carlson the groovy chick.
"Yes, I'd want to know," she said in a sure fire voice. Cathy never got how girls were always so timid with each other, she preferred honesty. She much rather have someone come up to her and straight up call her a bitch than pretend to be her friend behind her back.
"Why are you asking us?" Bridget asked.
"Yeah, "Dead boy or live girl?" Cathy said with a wink, it was strange, in the past week she felt her confidence grow by leaps and bounds. It wasn't just Pony or making friends with upper classmen, it was discovering herself piece by piece, inch by inch.
She touched herself down there, and her fingers didn't shrink into stubs, she didn't grow a beard or break out in hives, she didn't go blind. Nothing happened, except Cathy found that she liked, after a few moments of pain, the sensation of her fingers deep inside of her when she thought of Ponyboy Curtis.
It was almost as if, in a small way, her fingers slowly, and not without some pain, pressed through the layers of self-doubt in Cathy's mind and having felt herself in the deepest part, she was now more willing to share parts of her personality, like her humor, with others.
It helped that she had friends like Bridget, Ella and even Evie to share that part of herself with.
Ella smiled slightly and shook her head, "nah, I mean, it's Vickie she's telling everyone Evie is…"
"Telling everyone Evie is what?"
Evie stood in the bathroom doorway.
Bridget's eyes opened wide, Cathy's mouth dropped and Ella sucked in the heavy, charged air. Her body felt so flushed she half though she was going to faint.
The buzzing sensation inside of Evie felt as if every rude glance, every insult she'd ever received had come to life, its shadowy breath licking on her body.
She was used to having bitches like Cherry and their ilk talking about her behind her back, but Ella?
Ella was a friend, she thought with chortled laughter.
She stood back, widening the space between her and the gossip triplets.
"We have got to stop having these little random run ins in the bathroom," the voice was unsteady and cracked as a boy going through puberty, but everyone turned around, surprised that it was Bridget Stevens not only trying to make a light-hearted remark, but usher in an uneasy peace.
Cathy tried to give her friend a slight smile. Cathy was nervous as hell herself, waiting for the venom Evie was gonna unleash on them all, knowing that they would deserve it.
A sick feeling moved inside of her, she had wanted to be accepted, to break out of her shell, to be, and God this sounds so ridiculous, 'cool' but she never wanted that acceptance to be paid by Evie Martin's feelings.
Guilt was a funny thing Ella thought, the larger the guilt the smaller you felt. Right now she felt like a bug.
She hoped Evie Martin could feel her shame.
"Evie," she quickly said, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't sure how to tell you."
Evie crossed her arms, "oh, you sure don't have no trouble talking to Cathy and Stevens about me, do ya?"
Bridget could barely contain her rolled eyes, great, now she was Stevens again?
Cathy did what she did best; she injected herself into a middle of an argument that wasn't hers. She stepped forward, standing between Ella and Evie; the sophomore wasn't too weary, between her siblings she had broken up a lot of fights.
"Evie, Ella wasn't trying to talk behind your back." She tried to keep her voice steady, but it was hard with Evie shooting daggers at her.
"No?" Evie glared at the sophomore, "what do ya call it? Singing my praises?" The hurt in her voice wrapped in an itchy cloak of anger burning through every caustic note of her words.
Ella looked like she wanted to cry. This was all too much, she had to deal with Dallas Winston, her mother, and now some war between the social classes that she wanted nothing to do with. The only bright spot right now was Craig Bryant and her new friends, and now because of Ella's mouth all of that was being flushed down the toilet.
Worst of all, she let Evie down. She never asked for any of this.
In trying to protect her friend's feeling, Ella ended up hurting her. Could Ella do anything right?
"I'm sorry, Evie," and Ella Mitchell truly was; the simplicity of her apology not able to contain how awful Ella truly felt.
Evie sighed; she was still plenty upset and hurt, but even more she was curious what Ella had to say. It had to be something good if she was so nervous she was talking to Bridget and Cathy about it. Ella was a shy girl and a lot less brash than Evie, but she wasn't a girl who got easily intimidated. Any girl who could strike up a conversation with Steve had to have at least some guts; even if they were the type of guts who spilled secrets about Evie to others.
"The fish in the rumor mill would like to know what all the sharks are sayin'" Evie tapped her foot impatiently.
Ella sighed, three set of eyes on her. She hated being the center of attention.
"It's Vickie Harper."
"Well no shit," Evie snapped. She looked over at Bridget who was doing her best to become invisible.
"So, what does bitch have to do with me?" Both Bridget and Cathy winced, Cathy because of Evie's language, she may have fingered herself, but swearing in public still made her uncomfortable. Bridget winced because for the first time she was beginning to think that maybe that word could apply to Vickie. It made her feel awful to even think of her friend as 'bitch'; even worse to think that it might be true.
But Ella wasn't deterred by Evie's tongue. She never was.
"She's spreading rumors that you stuffed the ballot box and that's how you got on Homecoming Court." Ella said it in such a rapid voice her words almost slurred together.
Evie cracked up laughing, "shoot, that all? Honey, Angela Shepard has spread better yarns about me when she was only knee high in her step daddy's liquor."
Evie felt a small bit of relief, out of all the possible rumors that could be spread about her, this one wasn't the worst.
Besides, Evie told herself what did she care what people thought of her? She had Steve she had her friends, she could give two shits about Vickie Harper.
But Ella still looked nervous, "and, I don't know, but I think Vickie and George might be planning something at the dance."
"Like a sabotage?" Cathy spoke up, there was part of her that was almost intrigued, she looked down guiltily at her feet.
"I dunno," Evie turned to Cathy, "my boyfriend told me about it earlier."
Cathy was confused, all of these moving parts, she felt like she need Cliff Notes to keep track of it all.
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" The younger girl asked in a take charge voice.
"What do you mean what are we going to do about it?" Evie could barely hide a smirk, she knew Cathy meant well and she liked the younger girl enough, but the idea of Cathy Carlson leading the light brigade against Vickie Harper struck Evie as amusing.
What was she gonna do, read a list of list of rules and bore Vickie to death?
But Cathy only shook her head, "we can't let Vickie get away with this." She meant it, she didn't know how they would stop Vickie, but they had to stop her.
"So what should we do?" Bridget looked around nervously. Four girls not quite friends, but maybe more than acquaintances linked in a coifed alliance.
Bridget sighed and felt a tangled piece of dark hair fall in front of her eyes, she blew it off her face. To think this all started over hair.
Guys had it so much easier.
XXXXX
"Well, if it ain't Miss. Homecoming," Kathy cackled loudly. She sure did know how to master the whole holier than thou look, despite her rep for being loose; must be the perk of being a preacher's daughter.
Evie rolled her eyes, she had told the girls Vickie's little stunt didn't bother her in the least, and she meant it, but that didn't mean she was in the mood to be dealing with being the butt of jokes.
"Yeah, so what?" Evie's voice snapped, a bit louder than she meant.
"So, are you dropping out?" Sylvia said, a hunger glint in her eyes.
Evie felt a slight tremor in her hand, but did her best to look steel eyed. "Why the hell would I do that?"
Sylvia looked at her with a hurt expression, but Evie was too bristled to notice.
"Because," Sylvia said, her voice, unlike her top, oddly controlled, "you ain't one of 'em."
Everyone kept on saying that but she had no idea what that meant anymore. Truthfully sometimes she didn't feel like she fit in with anyone, she sure as hell didn't fit in with Bridget, Cathy was young, Ella was fine, but a bit of a square and her friends, well, she hardly saw them anymore. When she did see them the only thing they had in common were the boys.
Evie was feeling so damn uncomfortable right now, "so what's the big deal about Homecoming? It just ain't for girls like Harper and Stevens." In the back of her mind, Evie remembered saying something similar to Bridget Stevens, the irony was not loss on her, Stevens seemed to get it, her girls, still didn't.
"No," Sylvia replied, her tone colder, "but being on the Homecoming Court? Being next to all those bitches who spend years knocking you down, trying to pretend that you're one of them?"
"You're ashamed aren't you?" Kathy broke in. "Ashamed of being greasy, ashamed of us, maybe even," her voice broke an octave, "ashamed of Steve."
An anger so scorching it could light the entire state on fire rose through Evie, yet it came out not as a fierce scream, or an angry shout, but a whisper, "fuck you."
"Well, you ain't Two-Bit, so no thanks." Kathy said a smoldering look of superiority.
"You know Evie; there are a bunch of rumors going around that you…"
Evie cut off Sylvia, "it ain't true," Evie hated the desperation that snaked through her voice.
Sylvia shrugged, "I know, but why don't you take your name off the list? Listen, hon, I'm tryin' to be a friend here, I know you didn't put stuff no ballot, shoot girl, you can barely stuff your bra," in spite of herself, Evie grinned.
But Sylvia went on, "but when you spend all your time with Bridget Stevens, get nominated for Homecoming Queen, hardly spend time with your real friends no more. You can't blame people for questioning. You've changed Evie." There was a thick layer of hurt in Sylvia's voice but Evie was so fucking pissed over what Kathy had said, she didn't notice.
"You know, I heard that it's actually Stevens who is…" Evie cut off Kathy mid-sentence.
"She's fine," Evie said coldly, she didn't want to hear Kathy open her damn trap anymore.
But Sylvia bit onto the words like the snake biting onto the apple.
"See?!, You're real quick to defend Stevens. Says something don't it?" Sylvia twirled her hair, her smug look crossing into a dangerous territory.
"It says what?" Why was she even taking this shit?
"That you even have to ask says it all, don't it?" With that, Kathy and Sylvia walked away, talking to each other in exaggerated whispers, ever so often looking back at Evie.
Evie walked to her next class, she felt the eyes of everyone upon her, gazing, judging.
It didn't bother her, she told herself, but it did. The dirty looks she got from the Socs was something she was all too familiar with; it was the judgmental eyes of her friends that burned.
For the first time Evie could identity with Hester Prynne; the hallways of Will Rogers transformed into a Puritan court house, the sign of her sin not a scarlet letter, but a slip of paper that read, "Evie Martin Homecoming Queen Nominee."
XXXXX
Dallas Winston slammed his hand into the steering wheel of Buck's T-Bird. A fucking nightmare. This whole Homecoming crap was nothing more than a pain in the ass. Now he had to deal with whatever shit Vickie Harper had planned for Evie. Evie wasn't his chick, and normally he wouldn't give two shits, but Evie was Steve's girl, and Steve was his buddy, so that made it his problem.
Pony Curtis walked towards Dal, he could feel the bruise under his eye and he guessed he would end up with a pretty good shiner. Great, right before he's supposed to take Cathy out on a date. He would have rolled his eyes at the thought of having to meet Mr. Carlson when it looked like a juvenile delinquent, but his eye was too swollen to even move.
"What's goin' on with you?" Dal's eyes bore a hole through Pony.
Pony tried spilling some bullshit story about how there was nothing going on, even though the nasty bruise on his face was screaming so loud that even Dal could hear it over the roar of traffic zipping past them.
But Dal, wild, cunning Dally, didn't believe him for a second. He recognized that slight look of fear on Pony's face. He had seen it before.
"Don't fukin' lie to me kid." He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, yet it didn't hurt at all. He wasn't gonna let what happened to Johnny happen to Pony, if someone was screwing with the kid, he'd find out and make him pay.
"I aint!" the kid yelled. Damn apparently his attitude was still going strong. Dal glared at the kid.
Pone might be Dal's friend but he wasn't one to take no lip from nobody. Only one person could get away with putting Dal in his place.
Got away.
Dal, wiped his face with his bare hand. So, the kid was playin' Helen Keller, that was fine. Dal would figure out what was goin' on and make the assholes pay.
He licked his lips at the thought of settling scores with the Socs, would serve 'em right, but Dal knew that he needed a plan. Dal shook his head, now he had to do the one thing that was harder for him to do than anything. He had to wait.
He thought of Ella who was supposed to talk to Evie about all this shit, he sure hope dopey wasn't gonna fuck this up.
Yeah right.
XXXXX
Ponyboy Curtis ran cold water over his face and ruefully touched his bruise.
Of course he'd have to meet the parents. Of course he knew that, but meeting some phantom parents in his imagination was completely different from actually coming face to face with the man who could probably break him in half like a twig.
"Open up Pony, shit man, I gotta piss!" Soda was banging holy hell on the bathroom door.
"Hold your damn horses! I'm gettin' ready." Pony shouted with annoyance. Crap could a guy have any privacy in this house?
"It ain't my horses I'm tryin' to hold on to!" Soda piped up and busted the door open.
Soda rushed to the toilet and dropping his jeans and his drawers and let it rip.
"Hey," he said over the competing sources of flowing water, "you look all spruced up." Soda looked over his younger brother, Pony had on a clean pair of jeans and blue t-shirt, it was a hand me down from Soda. His hair was half combed back, half combed to the side.
Soda ran his hands under the lukewarm water.
"Yeah," Pony smiled, "I have a date."
A huge grin spread across Soda's face, "a date, no foolin'. Who is the lucky chick?" Both he and Darry had started to date back in junior high, Pony was shier than his brothers, and it was wild to think of him on a date.
"It ain't that big of a deal," Pony said, combing the other half of his hair back, "just to the Ribbon."
"Shit," Soda was about to make a dirty joke about all the fun times he had at the Ribbon, but he didn't want to make Pony nervous. The way he was combing his hair back and the steady tap of his feet against the tile told Soda his brother was nervous enough without being ribbed.
"Cathy?" Soda asked, jumping up on top of the sink, his feet banging against the cabinet.
"Yeah," Pony said, flicking water at his brother.
Soda met Cathy once, she seemed like a nice girl, she was quiet, but that would be just perfect for Pony who even on his best days wasn't given to the gift of gab.
Pony turned to his older brother, worried, "do you think I should wear more hair grease?" He pointed to his reddish-brown hair. Without the hair grease Pony had a slight cowlick that stuck up in his hair, just like Darry.
"Cathy doesn't have a problem with the hair grease," Pony went on, "but she's not greasy at all, I don't want her parents to blow a gasket when I first meet them."
Soda looked his brother in the eyes, "I think this Cathy chick is real lucky to have you, and if her parents can't see that, that ain't your problem, it's theirs. Besides, you don't wanna look like you just rolled out of bed." Thus spoke Tulsa's Vidal Sassoon.
Pony smiled and although his smile was plagued with self-doubt he confidently added more hair grease to his fly away strands of hair.
Now, if only he could think of a good explanation for the eye.
XXXXX
"Oh my God, Cathy you're bleeding!" Bonnie Carlson pulled her sister's hand by the wrist, the tip of her index and ring finger covered in blood.
Cathy winced of course she would run into Bonnie on her stealth trip to the bathroom. Bonnie was like a Jack in the Box, a pesky, loud Jack in the Box who always popped up at the worst times.
Cathy was relieved that the faded glow of the bathroom light did not show her red face, or the quickening of red she felt against her underwear.
"What happened to you?!" Bonnie Carlson shouted.
Jesus, Cathy thought, could Bonnie ever speak in a normal tone of voice?
"Shh," Cathy said harshly, "you'll wake up the baby, I just got a paper cut. Now move it."
Bonnie cracked up, "paper cut! Gosh Cathy you're the biggest square!" With her clean hand, Cathy pulled harshly on her sister's braid before pushing her and sending her flying towards the wall.
She quietly closed the bathroom door and ran her hand under the warm water, thoroughly cleaning with soap. Once clean she pulled out a sanity napkin from the cupboard below the sink.
What a night to get her period.
XXXXX
"Hello Mr. Carlson," Pony said and stuck out his hand.
Cathy's father didn't look anything like he imagined. Not that Pony had anything to compare him too, but he imagined him as a big man, the type who would tear him limb for limb if he was a minute late dropping Cathy back home.
Probably with a prison tattoo marked on his bulging forearm and a shot gun in his hand.
But Mr. Carlson with his sweater and plain slacks looked like a principal.
Which Pony decided was only a slightly better alternative.
Cathy's house was almost as poor looking on the outside as his own, but inside it was much neater; beer and Coke bottles didn't cover almost every inch of the coffee table and Mr. Carlson was almost like a figure from a Norman Rockwell painting compared to his dad's rougher exterior.
Pony felt slightly uncomfortable, though Mr. Carlson had done nothing to make him feel uncomfortable, besides being Cathy's dad of course. It was the same feeling he got when his middle class friends visited him after he got a concussion. With his leather jacket on, with the bruise courtesy of George flashing like a stop light that said: DON'T PASS GO, DON'T LET YOUR DAUGHTER DATE THIS HOOD he felt small and out of place.
He wish he didn't wear the leather jacket. He wasn't planning on, but it was chillier this evening than normal. He felt stupid, looking like a future JD when he met Cathy's parents for the first time.
Glory, Darry was right, he really didn't use his head.
Mrs. Carlson came out of the kitchen, a little kid, Christopher maybe, asking if he could go outside. "You had all afternoon to go outside, it's getting late, go play in your room." She gave her son a light pat on the bottom and ruffled his hair.
Pony smiled softly, her easy going firmness reminded Pony of his own mother. It was strange, every day he felt like he was moving away from the horrible nauseating grief that became his companion since the day his parents died, yet sometimes he could see his mother flash before his eyes, and it was that horrible night all over again.
But sometimes, it was nice to remember her.
"You cold son?" Mr. Carlson asked in a polite if slightly incredulous tone.
Pony shook his head, feeling slightly embarrassed, "no sir."
Mr. Carlson asked him about school, what classes he liked, what kind of grades he got, if he was going out for any sports. He didn't ask about his family and Pony figured that Cathy told him that his parents were dead. He was grateful for that, he still didn't like talking about his parents. It still hurt too much.
Mrs. Carlson lightly tapped he husband's arm, "alright, enough with the interrogation, you're gonna give the poor boy a heart attack."
Mr. Carlson sighed, but stopped the questioning.
"Looks like you passed the test, Ponyboy," Mrs. Carlson said in a thick southern accent that was warm and welcoming.
"Now where is that daughter of mine? Ya have to excuse her Pony, you know how us girls have to make a fuss when we have a date with a handsome gentleman," she winked.
Pony did not know how girls had to make a fuss but he nodded, "it's no problem, Mrs. Carlson."
He rose from his chair, the way his father had taught all three boys, when Mrs. Carlson left the room.
Mr. Carlson's eyes rose slightly in surprise, but he quickly edged up from his armchair as well.
He gave Pony a smile, Ponyboy Curtis had won him over.
Cathy walked into the living room, she had on a pair of pants, a cute blouse and a sweater that didn't look thick enough. Pony stood up, she looked even cuter in slacks than in her dress.
"Don't get any paper cuts!" A little girl called out and Cathy turned an odd shade of crimson before shaking her head, "family joke" she said to Pony with a nervous laugh. She quickly closed the door behind them.
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"Is a Coke fine?" Pony asked as he stood up, his change jingling in his pocket.
Cathy had an awful craving for a root beer float, but those were expensive, and she didn't want to be demanding. She smiled, "that sounds perfect."
Cathy adjusted her seat and looked out at the strip of highway known as the Ribbon. Even with the weather getting colder the Ribbon was always busy; the hot dog stand, arcade, and other joints along the road over stuffed with teenagers. On the side of the road beer bottles, used condoms and even a hypodermic needle or two gave proof of some of the other activity that took place in the seedier underbelly of this teenage wasteland.
Cathy knew that sometimes the Ribbon could be trouble, there was always a fight or two that was bound the break out, but there was also something exciting about the place where hormones and greasy food mixed in such a combustible way adults called it "the Restless Ribbon."
It was even more exciting to be there with Pony Curtis.
Pony returned balancing a tray with two chili dogs, fries and two Cokes.
Pony was a quiet guy, at first that was awkward, the long pauses between bites, the friendly but uncomfortable nods between them.
At the Carlson table between Bonnie and the little boys, Cathy hardly had any chance to say anything, so it was a shift being the center of attention. In the back of her mind her long embedded fear that she was too plain, too boring ,to hold anyone's attention kept on nudging through her mind.
Then just as she was telling him about the art project she was working on, she felt normally hunched shoulders relax and her fast paced voice slow down.
Holy shit. He was listening.
Someone, not just someone, but a boy, an attractive boy at that was actually interested in what she had to say; or at least he was giving an Oscar winning performance. No one, except M&M and now maybe Ella, ever really listened to Cathy. Her mother tried, but with seven children her attention was sliced and diced into tiny bite sized morsels.
Then Cathy realized something else. She was enjoying herself. She was making jokes and Pony was laughing. Out here in the chilly October evening, his leather jacket wrapped around her shoulders, stuffing her mouth with chili dog and fries, she was having a good time.
That almost never happened. It wasn't that Cathy was a stick in the mud or that she enjoyed raining on people's parades, but Cathy knew that was going to go wrong almost always did.
Pony seemed to read her mind, "pretty good first date, huh?"
"Oh it's not my first date," Cathy said with self-assurance. Cathy hadn't told anyone in her family, not even M&M about her brief summer fling with Mike, it was one secret she preferred to hold on tightly. It wasn't a scandal or anything, but she liked the idea of having something, of having someone she didn't have to share with anyone.
Her entire life she shared, for once she liked having something that belonged only to her.
She also liked the idea of quiet, shy Cathy Carlson having a secret boyfriend. No one would expect it. It made her feel older, cooler. She bet even Evie Martin never had a secret fling.
Pony grinned but laugh nervously, "oh. Well, I'm still having a good time."
"Me too," Cathy quickly said and sucked on her straw until she reached the bottom of the bottle. She was too damn honest.
"Hello!" A voice called out with exaggerated friendliness.
Vickie.
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Like a dreaded swamp creature bubbling up from the toxic water, there she stood, hands on hips, a slight smile on her face.
"You know her?" Pony whispered. He knew Cathy was friendly with Bridget Stevens; he liked Bridget too, but Vickie Harper?
"I plead the fifth" Cathy said dryly and Pony hid a smirk. It was remarkable how much more comfortable Pony felt with Cathy when she got mouthy.
Cathy's eyes narrowed, but otherwise her face was perfectly even and expressionless. She was still seething at Vickie for starting a rumor about Evie, but she wasn't about to let the girl ruin her evening.
"Catherine, you look so lovely tonight," the tone saturated and patronizing was even more off putting than Vickie's normally sparkling personality.
Pony rose slightly when Vickie came over and she smiled at him in a way that was equally dismissive and charming.
"Such a gentleman, I'm impressed, Catherine."
"Thanks," Cathy said coolly. Pony's eyebrow shot up, subtlety asking her if she wanted him to intervene, but Cathy only shook her head.
"Oooh! Chili dogs how fun!" Vickie said with exaggerated delight. "Not that I would eat that, it just goes right to my hips, you're so fortunate to have those jumpers on hand. Really does a lovely job of hiding that pesky layer of chub, but don't worry in a few years you'll certainly have a lovely figure."
Pony's mouth dropped open, growing up with all brothers he was intimately familiar with the cruel punch of late night wrestling matches, but this type of verbal jujitsu insults was new to him.
Man, he much preferred getting punched. Pony felt helpless; if it was a guy who started laying into Cathy he'd have no problem flattening the asshole. But against a girl, especially a girl like Vickie Harper, Pony felt helpless. He couldn't swear at her, he never swore at chicks, even when they deserved it, certainly couldn't punch her; so his fingers, bunched up and angry but with no place to go, clenched the Coke bottle.
Cathy felt like she had been pistol whipped, it wasn't just the embarrassment of being called fat by Vickie Harper in front of her date, although Cathy wouldn't be rushing home to write that detail in her diary, but it was the last line that threw Cathy for a loop. The way Vickie said it, "don't worry in a few years you'll certainly have a lovely figure" it was almost as if Vickie meant it. That was the worst thing about Vickie, Cathy decided. She was a snake, a horrible person, yet she was also capable of compliments that felt sincere.
Cathy also saw herself as head strong, yet why did a part of her feel a lulling comfort that came from being complimented by Vickie Harper of all people?
For the first time Cathy could see why someone as nice as Bridget could be friends with Vickie. But then Cathy thought of Evie and anger boiled up inside of her, threatening to spew chili dog all over Vickie's perfectly coifed hair.
"I think you better leave, Vickie" Pony's voice, sharp, sure, yet still polite and maybe a bit unsteady made Cathy smile. The way he glared at Vickie made Cathy smile as well. Mike was a nice guy, her first kiss, but he was, to be honest, a bit of a wimp.
Cathy liked the way Pony's voice wrapped around her, protecting her from Vickie's bitter tongue as much as his leather jacket kept the cold off he shoulders.
Vickie only smirked, seemingly enjoying the challenge. "Last time I checked this isn't Red China, but I appreciate you taking a stab in the dark to defend your little friend."
It took everything in Pony not to jump up and lay into Vickie Harper, and Cathy looked burned with anger as well.
"Go jump in the lake" Cathy said hotly, but Vickie only let out a fake laugh.
"You really hurt my feelings dear, that tongue of yours is on fire tonight, I'm just going to have to drown my sorrows someplace else." Her words were directed towards Cathy, but time entire time she glared down hard at Pony.
Just as she was about to walk away she turned back towards Cathy and Pony one last time, "oh Pony, I'm really sorry what happened to Jonathan."
"Johnny," The anger in his tone dangerous and growling underneath his normal soft voice. Cathy reached out and put her hands on top of his. It sure was a cold night.
"Oh, I'm sorry," and once again, Vickie almost sounded sincere, "anyways, George says hi." She grinned at a girlfriend sitting on another bench.
"George?" Cathy asked quizzically.
"Forget about it," Pony said in a glum voice.
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Cathy Carlson felt miserable, truly miserable. Her first date with Pony was a disaster she hated Vickie, truly hated her and now Pony would probably never want to go out with her again. She wouldn't blame her, if she was associated with Vickie Harper she wouldn't want anything to do with Cathy either.
She'd die a spinster or a cat lady. Or she'd become Aunt Rita with her creepy China dolls; the China dolls that would look at her with their glass eyes, judging her as she masturbated herself blind. Maybe she could call Mike back up? He was boring but at least he never heard of Vickie Harper.
Just as self-pity and despair threaten to shut Cathy's air passage and any hopes of future relationship tight, Cathy felt smooth lips touch hers. His lips were soft, gentle, slightly moist and locked around her mouth. Even the fact that their breath reeked like chili dogs didn't matter, there was something captivating about the way he kissed, sure, yet gentle. If this was his first kiss he was already a prodigy.
She felt as if all the art in the world had come to life and the vivid colors Georgia O'Keeffe used in her paintings were swirling in her mouth, her heart raced, everything was happening so fast, yet she felt it all. It was as if time had stood still and the noise on The Ribbon faded away.
Now all Cathy could taste was his kiss, it was both new yet familiar all at the same time. It was their first time kissing each other, but unlike her first kiss with Mike which involved them banging their heads together in a failed temp to get on the same rhythm; they were both on the same beat.
Slowly her mouth opened more, and his tongue moved ever so slowly into her mouth.
They pulled away and looked at each other and smiled, neither one saying anything. Pony took Cathy's hand and Cathy returned the squeeze of his hand. She could see the spark of the sky reflect in Pony's greenish tint eyes. It may be cold, but it was the coldest nights that brought out the stars.
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S.E Hinton owns, we borrow