Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 33

"You're not supposed to be here," he slurred, squinting up from the floor, a bright light from above burrowing into his skull like a bullet. His mind was moving like Two-Bit's car - in fits and starts. Her name was on the edge of his brain, but he couldn't grasp it. It was something silly, like a fruit or vegetable. For some reason that struck him as really funny and he laughed, causing a bolt of pain to streak across the back of his head.

"I'm not supposed to be here?" she asked hotly, her brow furrowing in anger. He didn't answer, just stared mutely at the two redheaded visions that swam and swirled before his eyes. That didn't seem right. He was pretty sure she didn't have a twin. Although, he mused, that would certainly make things interesting.

"You've got some nerve, Dallas Winston," she said, throwing her thick hair over her shoulder as she began to pace.

From his vantage point, flat on his back on the cold marble floor, he had an interesting view of her legs and her skirt as it twirled around her calves. There was probably less than six inches of leg exposed, but something about that bare skin grabbed his attention and wouldn't it let go. Sylvia let it all spill out like the dessert case at a cheap diner and he liked that. He didn't need to use his imagination, which was fine by him. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd be turned on by the sight of prissy bobby socks, saddle shoes and a plaid skirt Tim's grandma wouldn't have been caught dead in. Damn broad must have hit him harder than he thought.

The pacing continued and now she was talking to herself, muttering under her breath. He could only make out one word, but one word was all it took. Police.

"Shit," he groaned as he sat up quickly - too quickly. The room spun like one of those rides at the fair that spun around … in a circle … whatever, he couldn't think of the stupid name. The edges of his vision started to darken and shrink; his stomach lurched, threatening to spill its contents all over her pristine white floor. Serve her right if he puked all over her perfect house - she'd really fucked him up. Score one for Cherry Valance, he thought.

"Cherry, your name's Cherry," he said out loud without meaning to. Startled, she stopped wearing a groove into the floor long enough to look down at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he mumbled with a grimace. Reaching up, he gingerly probed the growing lump on the back of his head. It felt sticky and slick and he wasn't surprised to see blood coating his fingers when he brought his hand back. "What the hell did you hit me with?"

"A vase, a very expensive vase." She looked pissed, like it was his fault she hit him with the damn thing. Arms crossed, toe tapping, she seemed to be waiting for something - like she actually thought he would apologize. Not in this lifetime.

"Hate to break it to ya, doll - but your very expensive vase shattered like a fucking fifty-cent bottle of beer." He shook his head tentatively, shards of clear glass dislodged from his hair, catching the light as they fell to the floor.

"That's only because your head is thicker than a brick wall," she said with annoyance. Dally laughed sharply, she certainly wasn't afraid of him - or she was really good a hiding it.

Changing the subject to the one he was afraid she would change it to, she said, "Just what were you doing in my house in the middle of the night?"

"Exterminating … stuff?"

Rolling her eyes, she knelt down and picked the abandoned pillowcase up off the floor. She opened it, studied it for a second, then flung it at his chest. Instinctively, he caught it but didn't open it. He knew what was inside and now it was covered with his smeared, bloody fingerprints.

"You're a lousy liar," she said as she walked over to the phone hanging on the wall.

"So I've been told," he said to himself, watching with growing alarm as she picked up a piece of paper from the table by the phone and grabbed the receiver, ready to dial. He tried to stand up, but only made it to his knees before nausea threatened to topple him.

"Wait," he said weakly, maybe a little more weakly than he truly felt - but he was wounded and she's a girl - girls dig that shit, right? He tried to adopt his most pleading, innocent expression as she turned to look at him. "Can't we talk this over? There ain't no reason to go gettin' the cops involved."

Her eyes softened a little bit - she was falling for it. Sucker, he thought; but it was a short lived victory.

"You try to rob my house and you want to talk it over?" she said incredulously, her eyes narrowing and jaw clenching as she turned her back on him. She was muttering to herself again - this time he made out the words stupid and idiot. She dialed the number quickly and with purpose, not making a single mistake.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Dally lurched up on wobbly legs and made his way over to her, trying to snatch the phone away. She quickly angled away from him, driving her elbow into his face, splitting his lip.

"Goddamn it," he grunted in pain as he doubled over, clutching his mouth, his lip throbbing in time to the pain pulsing through his head. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end and he felt a dread wash over him. She was actually going through with it - she was calling the cops. He closed his eyes and an image flashed before his eyes - a barred door sliding shut, a metal clang echoing into oblivion. He couldn't go back there - not now, anyway. Shit, he thought, when did I turn into such a fucking coward?

Slowly, he sank back to the floor, his back propped up against the wall beneath the phone. He should make a run for it, he really should. But he couldn't see straight and it wasn't like she wouldn't tell the cops who he was. The way this night was going, they'd have him arrested and locked up within the hour. Might as well make it easy for them. He kept his eyes closed, willing unconsciousness to return.

"Hello, is Ponyboy Curtis there? May I speak to him please? Yes, I know it's late. I'm really sorry, but it's kind of important." At first he thought his rattled brain was playing tricks on him. The broad was asking for Pony. What the hell was he doing with the fuzz? Confused, he opened his eyes and watched her as she spoke quietly, her fingers twisting the cord into a knot as she waited for the person on the other end to do her bidding.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you so late. Well, this may not make much sense, but …" she turned just then and looked straight at Dally, a determined, almost mischievous gleam in her eyes, "there's some trash here that needs picking up."

"Gee, sweetheart - does this mean there's a chance for us after all? I always knew you had the hots for me."

She was at the sink, running the water and basically ignoring him. She returned, carrying a damp towel which she proceeded to drop in his lap. He grabbed it and grinned slyly up at her.

"Anybody ever tell you that you should quit while you're ahead?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Now clean yourself up, you're bleeding like a stuck pig."

He moaned dramatically as he pressed the cloth to the throbbing wound. "Ya know, I'm feeling kinda faint here. You hurt me real bad - I may die right here on your floor."

"We can only hope," she said under her breath, but he ignored her.

"Maybe you can doctor me and save my life. I'm up for a little mouth-to-mouth. How about you?"

"The only help you'll get from me is another vase to the back of the head. Save me from having to listen to you for God knows how long until your friends show up." She'd made her way into the foyer and was impatiently looking out one of the windows that flanked the heavy oak door.

"What did you call them for anyway? Didn't you read Pony's article? Me and the Curtis brothers don't exactly roll in the same circles anymore." He felt a twinge of regret when he said it, but he pushed it aside. He didn't belong with guys like that - he was a hood, plain and simple. They were just holding him back, making him weak.

"Would you prefer I call your new friends? The ones that left you dying on the floor while they ran for it, leaving behind a van full of stolen goods and you to take the rap? I'm sure they'd be a huge help." She'd made her way back into the kitchen, but all of her attention was on the front of the house - waiting for the tell-tale sign of approaching headlights.

"Rap? Man, you talk like some bad cop show. 'Sides, I still don't get why you didn't call the fuzz in the first place."

"Trust me - I'm asking myself the same question."

"Got an answer?"

"If I come up with one - I'll let you know."

Dally nodded thoughtfully, a sly grin tugging at his mouth as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling where her elbow had broken the skin.

"Face it, doll - you dig me," he said with a wink.

It was twenty long minutes before the old truck finally pulled up into her driveway. Ponyboy was the first at the door and she was relieved to see him. She almost gave him a hug before catching herself.

"Thank goodness you're here. I was ready to go get my daddy's shotgun and put us both out of our misery," she said with a forced grin, wrapping her arms around herself. Pony stood there silently, looking a little alarmed and maybe a bit confused.

An older boy, a man really, stepped up behind him and she assumed it was his brother, Darry. She'd seen Sodapop at the DX and would recognize him in an instant - he was a hard one to miss. She figured he must have stayed behind while the other two came to collect Dallas. The truck was probably a tight fit with three boys, it would have been downright claustrophobic with four.

"Hello," Darry said, his voice deep and formal. Cherry remembered the way Pony described Darry that night at the movies - how he was hard and mean. The guy in front of her sort of fit his description - stoic was perhaps a word she would have used. He seemed older than he truly was and a little tired. Of course, she reasoned, she'd basically pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night, anyone would look tired.

"Hello," she replied with a kind smile. "Thank you so much. I didn't know what to do. I was staying at Marcia's this week, but decided I needed a break and came home tonight. My parents are away on a cruise and aren't due back for a few days."

"You could have called the cops," Pony said steadily as he looked her in the eye. His gaze was unsettling and Cherry looked down at the ground, feigning an interest in her mother's prize rose bushes.

"I could have, you're right. But that felt wrong, somehow. Like I owed him one pass or something. I don't know why," she said with a shrug as she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I'm going to call the police as soon as you leave. I'll tell them I just got home and scared them off," she assured them. "I don't think they actually took anything - their van is still here ..." she trailed off, realizing she was rambling.

Ponyboy was looking at her intently, like he was trying to see the truth. She wanted to tell him he was wasting his time. She had just as much an idea as to why she didn't turn Dallas in as he did. There was a niggling in the back of her mind and that stupid thing she'd said that night at the movies was like a ghost in her brain, haunting her. I could fall in love with Dallas Winston. I hope I never see him again, or I will. How she wished she could take it back.

Seeing Dallas Winston tonight, sprawled out on her floor, unconscious and holding a bag of her mother's jewelry - all she felt was pity. Like he was a dog that kept getting hit on the nose with a rolled up newspaper but never learned any better. Maybe she just didn't feel like wielding the newspaper tonight.

"The cavalry has arrived," a sarcastic voice drawled behind her. Dally was in the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He looked terrible and she wouldn't be surprised if he passed out again before they got him to the truck. She felt guilty, she couldn't help it. But he didn't deserve her guilt. Heck, he'd probably ridicule her for it. Fact was, he broke into her home; he was nothing more than a common thief.

Darry stepped up, ready to enter the house. His broad shoulders filling the doorway, making her take a step back.

"Come on Dally, let's go home," Darry said, his voice laced with exhaustion, a look of disappointment on his face. "I think you've done enough damage for one night."