Kait: I know, I know. I don't own the outsiders, just my little side plot thingamabob. All clear? And Soda wants to say something, real quick.
Sodapop: Hiya guys. *stuffs hands in his pockets* don't get mad at me or nothing' when you read these next few little chapters, or get mad at Kait. I made her tell my story right. She was all for knocking Eddie out with a baseball bat and leaving him in the mud, but I wouldn't let her. So….enjoy? *Soda evaporates*
Kait: *gaping, open-mouthed* Uh, well then. Here's the story!
Songs for this chapter are… Go To Sleep- Eminem and Scars- Papa Roach
I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
And my weakness is that I care too much
And our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you going down
But you never realized
That you're drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last stand
Scars- Papa Roach
Sodapop POV- My Choice
I strode forward, Two-Bit at my side as I threw myself into the wind, navigating to Steve's house blindly, trying to keep my eyes peeled open wide enough to see if I was about to crash into a tree or something equally painful and embarrassing. Two-Bit, his hands stuffed in his jacket, looked at me, his cheeks flushed from the wind that nipped at them.
"So, d'you got a plan to take down our friend Eddie?" His voice was cold. Business. I nodded, huffing out air from my cheeks. I checked out the battered watch we had found in Two-Bit's garage about six minutes ago that was strapped to my wrist tightly. The cracked glass face read half past eight in the morning. That was good. We had enough time to do this, and be done with this damming business before nightfall. I didn't want to be anywhere near the Soc's neighborhood come nightfall, when the story of what we had did would have spread around the city. I shuddered a little, but it wasn't from the cold. If they found out…I wouldn't need to think about killing myself, they'd do it for me.
"Yeah, I do," I said, answering Two-Bit's question. "I say we just beat the bastard to a bloody pulp and leave him there to rot. Got any better ideas?" I asked, looking cockeyed at my buddy. He shrugged, looking fixedly ahead, concentrating on something I couldn't see, his mouth set in a fixed line. I left him alone for the rest of our walk. I knew better than to bother Two-Bit when he was in a mood like this. It was like something came over him, consuming him and making him unreachable to the gang. Well, that wasn't true. Ponyboy could always snap him out of it, whether it was with a snappy line or just the right facial expression, he could do it. Damn, I missed my little brother. Get better Pony, I prayed silently, glancing over at a stony-faced Two-Bit. Then I ran the rest of the way to Steve's, Two-Bit gliding silently along on my tail, still not talking.
I trotted up Steve's driveway, not even bothering to turn toward the door, electing instead to head for the garage. If I knew Steve, and I did, he'd be in there working on his latest project. Sure enough, as we walked into the garage I almost broken my neck tripping over his feet, sticking out from underneath his dad's car. Along with music issuing from an old beaten-up radio, the sound of soft cussing floated up, along with an uneasy clanking sound coming from the underbelly of the car. I nudged his foot gingerly with my toe, trying not to startle him. His body jerked, and I heard a very loud ringing clunk as his head made contact with one of the pipes on the underside of the car. I almost smacked myself in the forehead. I should have made more noise. Steve could be as jumpy as Johnny had been when he wanted to be. He yelped, crawling out from under the car and woozily standing up, swaying slightly, his eyes fuzzy and kinda unfocused. Looking at Two-Bit's amused face, I tried my best to bite back a laugh as I slowly waved my hand in front of his eyes.
"Steve? Hey buddy, you alright?" I checked, choking back chuckles and Steve moaned, rubbing a purpling mark that was forming on his forehead.
"Jesus Christ," He groaned, gazing up through bleary eyes. I glanced at Two-Bit, and then burst out in laughter, slumping on the car as Steve slowly came to. Two-Bit ended up straddling Steve's rolling car dolly, crying with laughter as he held his sides.
"Oh, my god." I said, wiping my eyes as my insane laughing fit faded, and I was finally able to stand up straight. "That was great, but Steve, you okay?" I managed to get out, excess laughter still spilling out of me as I tried to pull myself together. Two-Bit swiped his eyes and managed to struggle up, clapping Steve's shoulder, still hooting with laughter.
"You-pipe… oh, lord..." He laughed; his eyes once again sparkling and merry.
"Shut up." Steve snarled, still gently touching his lump. I just shook my head, feeling the smile slip off my face as the happiness emptied my stomach, curdling and turning into uneasiness and anger once more. I cupped my chin in my hands, letting lose a long sigh. Damn it, I was tired of always being angry, always wanting 's why this all had to end tonight. Straightening up again, I nudged Steve to get his attention. This time, I tried to edge around the subject a bit more delicately than I had with Two-Bit.
"Ah, Steve?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets and looking at his familiar face, one I had known for most of my life. His brown eyes landed on my face, forgetting about his verbal sparring with Two-Bit. Two-Bit was next to him, the sparkle leaking out of his eyes as the stony Two-Bit remained behind, his eyes urging me on.
Once again I could feel a clock tolling somewhere, compelling me to hurry up. Bong, bong, bong…
"I-Steve, well, we…" I trailed off, looking helplessly at Two-Bit. He took my cue, crossing to stand in front of Steve, crossing his arms and looking directly at Steve, his posture making it clear that Steve was going to do this, whether he liked it or not, not matter what came out of Two-Bit's mouth.
"Steve, we're gonna go get us some revenge tonight, on that little shit that decided to mess with our gang, who messed with Pone. You dig?" Two-Bit said, his eyes serious, looking directly at Steve. Steve's body stiffened, and his eyes darted to me. I ducked my head down, biting my lip and scraping my toe in a pile of dust.
I looked up at their faces, at Steve's slightly questioning one and Two-Bit's no-nonsense face. I admitted softly, "Yeah. It ends tonight, once and for all. You in?" I couldn't look at Steve's face. If he said no, if he turned away from me, away from Ponyboy…
"I'm in." My head snapped up, and I barely restrained myself from throwing myself at my best friend and grabbing him in a hug so tight it would snap his ribs.
"Thank you so, so much." I finally croaked, finally realizing how much and how far my friends, my family was willing to go for me. They'd risk jail time and maybe even injury to help me. I gulped air, looking at Steve. His face only held sadness, and an oldness that seemed beyond his years, like the look Darry got sometimes when he thought Pone and me were in bed and he was alone. He'd slump down, and bury his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his hair, and simply look at the wall with a look that belonged on some old grandpa's face, not his smooth and unlined one. This was what I saw on Steve's face. Decades of sadness and fighting and pain, all wrapped up into one agonized look, a scorching gaze that burned through me and left me shaking.
"Oh, Soda," He said quietly, laying one gentle hand on my shoulder. I stared at it, not comprehending. Looking back at him, I saw the pity in his eyes, pity and empathy for my crumbling family. It was the first time I'd ever seen something like that in his deep, expressive brown pools for eyes. I had seen them shining with fiery anger or even glistening with tears, or sparking in happiness, but never pity or this deep, consuming sorrow I saw in the depth in this eyes. "Soda, don't thank me. Not for this." With that he turned, and began discuss tactics with Two-Bit.
Darry POV
Songs for this mini-chapter
It ends tonight- All-American Rejects
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
A falling star
least I fall alone.
I can't explain what you can't explain.
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain
the walls start breathing
my mind's unweaving
Maybe its best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
on this evening
I give the final blow.
I ran down the street, my mind going in circles. Damn it all, I should be with Pony, getting ready to take him home. Instead I was running the streets of Tulsa at-I checked my watch- two in the afternoon, looking for my vagabond brother. Holy Hell, I was gonna whup that boy when I found him. Mumbling under my breath, I crossed a street while ignoring the strange looks I was getting from passerby Socs. Stupid, stuck-up, swotty Socs, I internally grumbled, scanning the crowd of heads as fast as I could, trying to pick out Soda's mop of strawberry-blonde hair. Where was my fucked-up little brother?
"Sodapop!" I called out, still looking for Soda. Great, now I was getting long glances, not to mention incredulous looks. People were starting to edge away from me, clearly wondering if I had gone over the edge. Despite going out of my mind with worry, I really wanted to do something crazy, just to see what someone would do.
"Oi! You, greaser!" A sneering voice called, slicked and dripping with malice and obvious hatred.
Oh, damn. I was screwed now. I turned slowly around to look straight into the face of Paul Holden. I clenched my fists, and tried my hardest not to start slugging the life out of him.
"What," I said, my voice saturated with sarcasm, "can I do for you on this lovely Saturday morning, Paul?" He glowered, looking over his shoulder at the two other Socs he had with him, both of them reeking with new money, their clothes too finely tailored and their shoes new and shiny. About ten feet away sat a gleaming new Corvair, red and obviously bloody expensive. Stupid Bluebloods. They just don't know when to stop, do they?
"You just think you're hot shit, don't you, Curtis?" His arms flew out in a blur and he shoved me in the chest, hard. I felt my breathing begin to quicken, and I started to get mad, all the panic and rage over Pony, over this whole rivalry, begin to build, like a pot boiling over.
"Holden, if you know what's good for you, you'll walk away before I decided to beat you to a bloody pulp. D'you really want a replay of two nights ago?" I demanded, planting my feet and staring him down. Paul's jaw twitched and his eyes softened for the barest second. In that second I saw my old best friend, the Paul I used to know. I stared deep into the liquid blue, falling hard and fast into a memory from four years ago, when life was still golden.
"Paul! Pass it here!" I called, waving my arms frantically, trying to dodge grunting players as I waved at him wildly, trying desperately to get his attention. The only way I could tell it was him, besides the number on his jersey, was the tuft of golden hair sticking out from his leather helmet. "Paul, here!" I cried again, confused as to why he wasn't passing.
"Holden! Are you bloody deaf?" I finally yelled, giving up. His bright eyes, gleaming under his helmet, quickly glanced at me than looked away, shame overflowing in his eyes. I stopped moving and weaving through players, puzzled and kinda hurt that he would treat me so coldly. We had been good buddies ever since our first football practice freshman year, and it was now our junior year. I let the players flow past me in a sweaty, grunting stream, leaving me standing motionless on the field.
After practice ended a grueling hour later, I staggered to the locker room, stripping hurriedly out of my gear. Panting heavily, I shoved my pads and helmet and jersey into my bag and shouldered it, peeking through the throng of sweaty, laughing guys to try and see Paul. I finally saw him, striding toward the exit, his head ducked down and his shoulders hunched, almost as if he didn't want to be seen. That was odd. After practice we always walked home together, to the main street in Tulsa before parting ways.
I strode over to him, shoving his should harshly. He whirled around quickly, and seeing me, he flinched away, trying to turn around.
"Dar, just- just go home, okay? Leave me alone." He said almost harshly, but I could see warning for me in his eyes. I staggered back, hurt. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with this picture? We were friends. Why was he acting so strangely?
"Holden- Paul. What's rattling your cage?" I asked, running through all the possibilities in my head, and coming up frustratingly blank. He just looked at me, and opened his mouth, his eyes guarded, but I could see that for some reason, he was hurting. Shaking his head only once, he looked down, his shoulders slumped and his posture defeated.
I put out my hand to clap him on the shoulder, to try to help him, when I heard a loud voice from behind boom, "Get your filthy hands off of Paul, you damn greaser!" someone yelled, spinning me around and punching me square in the mouth. I came face to face with Jacob Wolfe. Touching my lip in shock, I looked up to see myself reflected in his angry brown eyes. My hand came away bloody, and I staggered away to lean on the wall, my mind reeling.
Jacob Wolfe was a year above me, a senior. His hair was dark and shiny, and he had a dimple, along with blindly white teeth and a loud, booming laugh. He didn't just fill space; he owned it, made it worth existing in. In other words, he was head of the football team, popular, a Soc, and loved by all. Except the greasers, who saw him for what he really was. He was a snake, a cheater, and a liar. Everybody else say him through a gilded veil but us.
My head whirled and I tried my best not to throw up in shock and sudden pain. Paul gasped, stepping slightly in front of me. I saw this through a blurry mask of pain and shock. What just happened? I had a sense of watching the scene go down around me through detached eyes, like I was watching it on a fuzzy TV.
Paul threw up his hands in exasperation, talking to Jacob. Jacob seemed to be yelling and stabbing a finger in my direction, his face angry and warped with frustration. I tuned back in just to hear Paul start yelling.
"Jacob! I told you I'd deal with this myself," Paul snarled, his eyes darting angrily between me and Jacob. I looked in confusion from Paul's slightly embarrassed and guilty look to Jacob's angry, demanding look when it suddenly clicked. I straightened up, and put my bad back on my shoulder. Without looking back, I started walking away, determined to walk away with some scrap of dignity left.
I heard footsteps behind me and I turned at the feel of a warm hand on my arm, tugging. I looked at Paul in exasperation, pinning him with my eyes to the wall outside the gym.
"What the hell, Paul?" My injured words hung in the air like fog, thick and stifling. He looked at me helplessly, at a loss for words, for once. Usually I couldn't get him to shut up, short of stuffing a hot, well-endowed blonde under his nose. I knew his weakness, his strengths, as well as he knew mine.
When we were friends this helped us back each other up.
Now it looked like it was going to help us take each other down.
I glared, the stuffed my hands in my pockets and began to walk across the football field, walking fast. I could feel anger building and I didn't want to lose it in front of Holden.
"Greaser, wait! Lemme explain, at least..." Paul said, sounding hopeless. I turned around and did something I never thought I'd do, at least not to Paul or anybody I counted along my friends. I punched him in the mouth. He rolled with it smoothly, and then rubbed his nose, gingerly feeling the now-swollen appendage.
"What the hell d'you want now, Holden? Want to insult me some more? Perhaps take a go at my brothers? 'Cause if you feel the need, lemme be the first to tell you that you won't see daylight again. " I spat venomously. Rubbing my bare arms fiercely, I was trying to make the coldness go away. I stopped when I realized the coldness was in my bones, not my flesh. He looked as if I had slapped him, not punched him out.
"Since when do you call me Holden?" He asked, genuinely confused.
"Since when do you call me GREASER?" I asked, glaring daggers. He looked away, blushing shamefully. I sighed, my body heavy with sadness. I didn't need to know how or why right now. I just wanted to go home.
"Paul, just leave me alone, okay? This would have happened, sooner or later. Socs and Greasers just aren't meant to be friends," I said, scuffing my battered cleat on the frosty football pitch, looking over the field at the lush grass, the huge goal posts. This was my home. So why did it now feel so forbidding?
"Go away, Holden. I'm not worth it, remember?" I said; my voice weary. Then I walked home, leaving Paul standing on the football field, alone.
Blinking hard, I staggered, pulled back to reality.
"You still in one piece, Curtis?" Paul sneered. I glared right back, and answered evenly, "Yeah. What's it to you?" He looked down, then, cruelly said, "So, how's baby greaser doin'? Pull out of that coma yet?" He chuckeled cruuley, looking to his friends for their approval. They roared with laughter, but kept a close eye on my clenched fists. Holden wasn't so lucky.
He was still laughing as my fist smashed into his face.
Blood poured out from his nose, bright red as it hit the cool black asphalt.
I walked away, like I did four years ago, not looking back.
Now, where could Soda be?
Soda POV
It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
I was ready.
Two-Bit and Steve, however, were driving me batty. I stared down at the ground, trying my hardest not to scream in frustration.
"Guys, he's gonna have died of old age before we have a chance to hurt him if we don't get a move on," I growled as they rummaged around in Two-Bit's garage. Steve muttered something over his shoulder, to which Two-Bit replied seriously, looking at me quickly, and then turning back to whatever he was looking for in Steve's toolbox. He gave a victory whoop, and spun around, his face alight with happiness. I stared blankly at what was sitting on his palm until something in my brain clicked and I recognized it.
A crowbar.
I looked slowly from the curved piece on metal back to Two-Bit. Then I shook my head, first slowly, then faster as I resolved my mind.
"Two-Bit, no." I said, crossing my arms and refusing to take it. Two-Bit looked almost comically shocked. His arm dropped, but he didn't let go of slim cane.
"Why not, Soda?" He almost whined, looking at me pleadingly. I wagged my head in an adamant nogesture,my mind made up.
I'm not going to take a life.
"No. I won't kill him. I don't care what he did; I'm not going to kill anybody. Not like-"I stopped. Not like Johnny had, I was going to say. But I couldn't bring myself to. Johnny did what he had needed to, to save Pony. I did care, to the point of pain, about what he had done, but I wasn't going to inflict that kind of everlasting pain on anybody's family.
A spasm crossed Steve's face, almost as if he was going to cry. He passed a hand over his face wearily, and then he looked normal again, save for the pain buried in his eyes.
"Two-Bit, no. We're not banging in his skull with a crowbar. That's not nice to do, not even to an asshat like Eddie. The answer is NO." Two-Bit sulked for about five minutes, before perking back up and bouncing over, his before-fight high he usually got beginning to kick in.
"Guys, we gotta go. I heard that Eddie hangs out at the park on Fridays, for about an hour to practice football drills by himself before he goes home or parties till he collapses or whatever the hell he does," Two-Bit babbled. I nodded distractedly, rubbing my throbbing temples.
"Guys, let's just do this, and be done with this damning business," I grumbeled, grabbing the nearest thing I could find, which just happened to be a socket wrench, and starting down the driveway. I could almost feel Steve and Two-Bit burning holes into my neck, but they followed after me.
Eddie-boy, let's finish this, tonight.
Darry POV
I headed down Elm Street, to Two-Bit's house. I almost passed it when I walked by, because I hardly ever went there. Two-Bit always just popped up wherever we happened to be, almost as if he had a sixth sense for his friend's comings and goings. That or he was at our house, raiding our fridge and being the pain-in-the-ass, Mickey-Mouse watching, chocolate cake stealing, laughing Two-Bit that we loved.
I jogged up his stairs, and held my breath as I cautiously rapped on the door.
Please, please, please let Soda answer….
I felt my breath whoosh out in disappointment as a small, blond head popped around the door, followed by a pair of eyes exactly like Two-Bit's and a small freckled nose. I sighed, squatting down to the six-year olds level.
"Hiya, Linda," I said kindly to her, smiling gently. "I need to speak to your mother. Is she here?" I said, putting my hand on the door lightly. I hadn't really seen Linda a lot since around two years ago, when I landed myself the place of the brother's guardian. I was slightly afraid she was going to slam the door in my face and turn tail. Not that I would give up or anything, but I really needed to find Soda before he landed himself in a comfy jail cell for a month or two. That would be a great homecoming for Pony. Linda was shyer than her older sister, but sweeter. She regarded me solemnly for a moment, then turned and scurried away in a flash of blond and pink.
I stood up, my joints creaking and popping as I stretched, catlike. Even though I had a messy problem on my hands, the sky was blue, and a slight chill nipped in the air, just enough to wake me up fully. Birds chirped in the half-naked trees, as pretty colored leaves in hues of crimson, orange, and yellow spiraled to the ground gently. I groaned in slight agony as my muscles protested. My little jaunt in our neighborhood was the most exercise than I'd had since the rumble. Exercise. Work.
I slammed my face into my hands, my little high dissipating. Ah, damn it all to hell. I hadn't been in to work in almost four days. I'd have to go in tomorrow, whether Pony was better or not. Christ, Jeremy was going to hamstring me alive. That is, if I still had a job tomorrow. Even without hospital bills to worry about, I was still paying for our needs, and Mom and Dad's funerals.
Fuck.
"Excuse me?" I heard in the doorway. I whirled around, not realizing I had cussed out loud. My hands flew to my mouth. "S-s-sorry, Kathy," I stuttered, blushing and shuffling back and forth awkwardly. Kathy hated, hated when we boys cussed. It drove her crazy, but yet we never did stop. That didn't mean you wanted to face her wrath, though.
Kathy was an overworked, underpaid thirty-something lady with bushy red hair and fiery blue eyes, and pale freckled skin. She had the same mischievous look as Two-Bit, and it was easy to see where Two-Bit inherited his eye-brow tricks from. Kathy was the master at eyebrow cocking. I dropped my hands to my sides and twisted my shirt awkwardly, looking down at the floor as the silence grew and my ears got progressively redder. Then, my shirt ripped where I was twisting it with a splitting sound.
Oh, crap. This day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?
Then, the best sound I had heard all day broke the air. Kathy laughed, and smiling, ushered me into the house, and closed the door behind me.
"C'mon. You need a new shirt. Then we can talk all about what you're doing on my doorstep, and where exactly our wards are."
Kathy tossed me one of her ex-husband's late shirts, and I caught it one handed, stepping into the bathroom to change. As I quickly changed shirts I heard Kathy ask,
"Have you seen Two-Bit today? I woke the girls up at eight today and he was gone, no note or anything," She said as I ducked back out again and tossed my torn shirt away. I snorted.
"Kathy, you must be shooting crack if you think Two-Bit would honestly leave a note. When was the last time that boy picked up a pen in his own free will?" I laughed, dodging her half-hearted swipe at my head.
"Oh, hush," She chided, cocking her eyebrow. I shrugged, still grinning. It felt so good to laugh again, to smile and for a minute, pretend nothing was wrong.
"Ah well, they're bound to turn up sooner or later, but I better go look for them before I'm fishing them out of some rat hole," I said, standing up and putting my coat back on, smiling at Linda and Mary, who had turned up during our conversation.
"Oh, you," Kathy said fondly, pulling me into a warm hug. I melted into her arms for a moment, pretending once again that it was my mother. I didn't get babied anymore because I was too busy playing the parent. It felt good, for a second, to feel like someone else was in charge, even if it was for a second.
I let her go and headed to the door, my parent mask in place once more. Before I slipped out the door, I glanced at the soda-bottle clock that hung crookedly in their kitchen. It read 4:15 PM.
Soda, Two-Bit, please let me find you guys okay soon, so I can strangle you for leaving the first place.
*Peeks out from under her desk* Please, please don't kill me. I just wanna drag this on as long as humanly possible, so NEXT chapter Eddie will get his just desserts, i promise. And this was techinally like 5 chapters (mini-sixed, but whatevs) meh....
Thanks for Reading, and PLEASE REVIEW!!!! They are the air i breathe. Well, metaphorically speaking....
love Kait