Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 20

"He's retired." That was easily the fourth time Sarah had stated that fact - twice in the hospital and twice now in the car. If he hadn't been so nervous, Johnny would have started to find it funny.

"Really - I swear," she added, holding up three fingers like she was a girl scout or something - making a pact. She was smiling, and Johnny didn't think she realized just how messed up she was making his life.

Cops hate greasers and greasers hate cops, it's a fact of life. One well-meaning social worker wasn't going to change all that. He was sure Dally would have said something like: "There's no such thing as a retired cop," and he probably would have been right.

Johnny sighed heavily and leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window. At least he looked like a greaser today and he wasn't going to meet her parents in some silly costume. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a jean jacket. They may be new, but they were familiar and he was finally beginning to feel like himself for the first time in a long time.

"Retired - fine, I believe you," he told her, trying to make her happy but failing to keep the frustration out of his voice. They had just dropped Ponyboy off at his house and they were making their way to Johnny's new home. It turned out he was going to be living only fifteen minutes from his old neighborhood. It might as well be on another planet, though, because it wasn't like his friends were going to jump at the chance to come hang out at the home of a cop, retired or not.

He started to wonder if her dad ever arrested Dally. Probably. Dal liked to brag that arresting him was sort of a rite of passage for the local police. Maybe he could ask about it over dinner - should make for an interesting conversation, Johnny thought, grinning despite himself.

"Dad left the force two years ago. He was injured in the line of duty and they made him take an early retirement," Sarah explained. "Now he works as a security guard at the Sears in the Promenade downtown."

Johnny knew the store, it was one Two-Bit excelled at shoplifting in. He didn't think now was the best time to share that bit of information. This whole thing was just getting better and better by the second.

"He doesn't really work for the money, more so just for something to do. He was bored and driving my mother crazy. I think he realized he needed to get out of the house when he started planning his whole day around Search for Tomorrow and The Guiding Light." She laughed, but Johnny didn't respond. He just stared silently out the window, watching the houses go by in a blur.

Sarah looked over at him and she felt her heart twist. "Johnny, I didn't do this as some sort of a trap or to trick you. My parents are great people. My mom is a nurse but she took a leave of absence about a year ago. She keeps saying she'll go back, but I don't know if I believe her anymore."

She started to wonder if she was trying to convince him or if, on some level, she was trying to convince herself. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, now she wasn't so sure. Johnny didn't just look worried, he looked terrified.

"Look, it was either this or a group home. I know I'm not supposed to bad-mouth the system - heck, I am the system. A boys' home would have been a mess. You would have hated it there and you wouldn't have gotten the care and attention you need." Johnny finally looked over at her, a guarded look in his dark eyes.

"I tried to find a foster family who would be able to handle your special needs," she saw him wince at that and knew he didn't like to be reminded about his disability and continued recovery and rehabilitation. "I couldn't find anyone that I trusted, and like I said, my mom's a nurse - a great nurse. She'll be able to help you with all the things your doctor said you'll still need help with, and she's really great at just being a mom."

She smiled at Johnny, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "And my dad's pretty cool, too. I'll make sure to tell him not to arrest any of your friends."

She was rewarded with a tentative smile from Johnny. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," she said with a wink as she maneuvered the car into the driveway. She nodded toward the windshield, indicating the view outside. "We're here," she said as she turned off the car and unhooked her seatbelt.

Johnny looked out the window. It was much bigger than his parents' house, that was for sure. It wasn't a soc house, but it certainly wasn't a greaser house, either.

It was … nice.

It was hard to believe this place was fifteen minutes from his old neighborhood, it felt like a completely different world. He remembered telling Ponyboy that he just wanted to be where people were people - plain ordinary people. This looked like that kind of place and, despite his reservations and against his better judgment, he found himself hoping he was right.

The silence was deafening.

Sarah's mom had a smile that seemed to be frozen on her face. Her dad looked like he was in pain - like he'd rather be anywhere but there. And Johnny … well, he was staring intently at his sneakers.

Sarah cleared her throat, breaking the hypnotic trance that seemed to have gripped the house.

"Mom, Dad - this is Johnny," she said warmly as she stepped up behind Johnny and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Slowly, Johnny raised his head, forcing himself to look them in the eye. He was met with gazes that were hesitant and unsure, but seemed kind. Her mom was still smiling.

"Hello, Johnny. It's nice to meet you," she said, her voice wavering slightly. He nodded in response, unsure of what to say. She looked like her daughter, only heavier and her dark blonde hair was shorter and threaded with gray. She looked nice, like what a mother should look like. His own mom reminded him of a crow - bitter and ugly.

"Well, my name's Mary and this is Tom." She gently nudged her husband in the side, prompting him to talk.

"Hey," he said gruffly. He was a big guy, bigger than Darry, even. He had a stern look about him and Johnny had no trouble imagining him in a police uniform. Hell, he wouldn't even need one to be identified as a cop, the gang would've known the minute they spotted him.

"Hey," Johnny managed to mumble quietly.

"Hey," Tom said again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Johnny realized he was just as nervous as he was and probably had no idea what to say or do, either. Luckily, Sarah was there to guide things.

"Geez, guys," she said with more than a hint of exasperation, "talk about your sparkling conversation."

Tom threw up his hands. "What --?" he started to say, but was cut-off by a glare from his wife. Shaking her head, Mary turned and walked down the foyer that opened up into a big kitchen.

Tom stepped to the side as Sarah pushed the wheelchair, following her mother. She grinned at her dad and made a "tsking" sound as she passed by him. "What?" he asked again, clearly not understanding the women in his life.

Mary was explaining things as they made their way through the house. Pointing out the dining room and family room. Making note of the deck off the back and the big backyard.

Johnny looked around, feeling apprehension prickle the back of his neck. It was so different from what he was used to. Everything was clean and bright; it felt sunny and cheerful - like a Hallmark card come to life. Certainly nothing on the East side of town would be described as sunny and cheerful. He felt so out of place.

They came to a door off the family room and Mary opened it as though she was revealing the secret behind door number one.

"And this is your room, Johnny," she explained as Johnny slowly wheeled through the doorway. "It used to be Tom's study, but he never used it for anything except to sneak his cigars. We made it into a bedroom when my mother came to stay with us after she had a stroke - gosh, was that five years ago? Luckily, we never changed it back."

The room was big - almost as big as what passed for the family room at his house. A dresser was up against one wall and there was a desk under a big window. Two end tables flanked a hospital bed. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see that here, Sarah had said something about the hospital sending over supplies.

One thing he noticed right away was the pink. Lots of it. And flowers - wallpapered over every square inch. Sarah looked around like she was seeing the room for the first time.

"Um, well - it's pink," she said, biting back a laugh. "I guess I never really noticed before."

"That woman sure did love her pink and those god-awful flowers," Tom said from the doorway, shaking his head. "We'll pick out some new paint tomorrow, kid. Okay with you?"

"Uh … sure," Johnny said slowly.

"Unless you'd rather keep the Pepto-Bismol and the garden from hell," Tom said with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Johnny said quickly, causing everyone in the room to laugh. Johnny felt his face grow hot as he blushed, but he found himself laughing along with everyone else.

"Alright," Mary said as she wiped tears from her eyes, "I'm going to go make lunch, Tom you're going to help me, and Sarah you're going to get Johnny settled."

Mary left the room, pulling her husband behind her.

Sarah sat down on the bed and looked at Johnny. "So, what do you think?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip, waiting in anticipation.

"Well …" Johnny began, trying to choose his words carefully. "It's different."

Sarah's shoulders slumped. "Different good? Or different bad?"

Johnny wheeled over the window, it looked out over the backyard. There was a bench next to some trees and a small clearing he assumed would be a garden full of flowers in a month or two. It would be a great place to lay out and look at the stars. He could see Pony sitting there, reading a book and probably daydreaming. A huge expanse of land was free from trees and would be perfect for playing catch or a game of football with the guys.

He thought of his house with the patch of dirt that was riddled with broken beer bottles and trash. The only thing green that ever grew there were the weeds - the only thing his mother knew how to cultivate was a hangover.

He thought of his room, with the old, lumpy mattress sitting on the worn carpet, the frame busted years earlier. The walls were colored with grime, not paint, and cracks and water damaged snaked through the cheap plaster. The small closet across from the bed was more for hiding from his dad than for keeping his pitifully small wardrobe of clothes.

He looked around his new room again, taking in the nice furniture, the desk, and even the "god-awful" flowers. He thought about her parents in the kitchen making lunch. He can't remember his mother ever making him lunch, or smiling, or laughing.

He was wary of Tom; he wasn't sure what to make of him yet. But he didn't scare him like his dad did. With his dad it was the uncertainty - what would set him off? Sometimes all it took was a look he didn't like or an answer he wasn't looking for. Sometimes it didn't take anything at all.

Hopefully, he would never have to see them again.

Second chances, everyone kept telling him. Well, second chances sure don't get much more obvious than this, he thought to himself.

"Different good," he answered with a small smile. "Definitely different good."