"It's time for the reading test," he said, and I lowered my head. I hated tests. They made my stomach hurt. I used to wonder what it was like to be Pony, to read so easily, to understand everything. I'd take tests and I'd try but it never worked out. I'd get questions wrong, I'd flunk, and the test would come back with all these red marks all over it. Sometimes my old man would find out how bad I did on some test and whip me. How did that help?
So I sat there and kicked my feet against the rug and didn't say nothing. It was a bunch of words on a paper and all he wanted me to do was read them.
"Just read them?" I said, looking at the list of words, and he nodded. So I read that list of words and then he gave me another list of words to read. I read a couple of these lists until one of them didn't even seem to have English words on it. I looked at this list and then looked up at him.
"Just try to read the words," he said, so I did, but they didn't seem like any words I ever heard.
"Okay," he said when I was done, and he didn't tell me if I got them right. I didn't think I did.
"Okay, Johnny," he said, and he didn't sound as upset as he did when he was talking about the gang stuff. He seemed sort of nice again. But I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anybody like that.
"Come with me," he said, standing up, and I stood up, too. I felt kind of relieved that this part of things was over, all these questions and that stupid test. I followed him out of that office and down a couple of hallways. I was wondering where Pony was, if he was talking to some other guy about this same stuff. We got to a room, like a big living room.
"This is the Orientation Unit," he said, and he handed me a book. I took it.
"This is the handbook. I went over most of it with you but I want you to read it, or have someone read it to you if you can't read or understand all of it," I must have flunked that stupid reading test, he knew I couldn't read good. Pony could read some of it to me if he had to. He wouldn't mind.
That guy left, and I looked around the room. There were a few kids there, all dressed in the same thing as me. There were some staff people, too. I glanced around for Ponyboy but didn't see him. I really wanted to see him.
I sat on the couch. It was sturdy looking, it had these rough thick cushions and a wood frame that looked like it wouldn't break even if you threw it out of a building or something. There was a little T.V. on in the corner, some cop show. I just started watching it, feeling so bored and scared and out of my mind. I'd rather be at my house than here. I'd rather be getting whipped with my old man's belt than be here.
One of the staff people came over to me. He was a big guy, looked like he was in his twenties.
"You must be Johnny," he said, half smiling at me.
"Yeah," I said, and he laughed a little.
"Don't worry, kid. It isn't so bad," I didn't say nothing. It wasn't so bad? I was in this place. I killed someone. They could give me the electric chair for that. All this, this place and these rules and going to school, what was the point of that for me? I might just never get out of jail or be executed. Things couldn't be worse.
I was just watching T.V., waiting for Pony to show up. There was a kid on the couch next to me, a blond kid with funny green eyes.
"Hey," he said to me, "who are you?"
"Johnny,"
"Johnny what?"
"Cade,"
"What'd you do?" he said, and I glanced over at him. I didn't want to talk about it with this kid.
"What'd you do?" I said, looking back at the T.V.
"Stole a car," he said, sounding proud, kind of like Curly would sound. He's stolen cars before.
"Yeah, good," I said.
"So what'd you do? I'll find out anyway, you know," I sighed. He was right. It wasn't a secret, or it wouldn't be. It was gonna be big news, if it wasn't already. So fine, I'd tell him.
"Killed a soc,"
"Holy shit! No way!" he said, and the staff guy that had talked to me shot the kid a warning look.
"Jason," he said. Maybe it was the swear.
"Sorry, don't take points off me for that swear, okay?"
"You know the rules," the staff guy said, marking some paper. He probably had some paper for me, too, taking points away.
"How'd you do it?" he said to me, all interested and everything, and he looked at me with this kind of admiration. That was, I don't know. I didn't admire him for stealing a car. But a car was nothing, it was just a thing. This was a person I killed.
"I don't want to talk about it,"