Disclaimer ~ I do not own The Outsiders, we all know SE Hinton does.
AN – I'm currently working on two stories, which one do you want to see published first?
The Classic Mixup –Instead of being a Curtis, Ponyboy is a Cade. Him and his brother Johnny get jumped, meet the gang, crazy times ensue…etc
Or
Nightmare on Grease Street – a mix of Nightmare on Elm Street and the Outsiders. The boys start having weird nightmares that eventually turn into real-life.
Let me know! Please enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to review! I haven't been getting that many reviews lately *sadness* but hopefully I'll get more this chapter!
…
I sat alone, not for the first time, staring out the window – to the fields beyond, wondering why I wasn't aloud outside anymore.
Oh yeah, cause Darry's jacked off about something, and took it out on me by grounding me for two months and giving me a good beating.
I hated my life. I knew that now. I used to love my life – back when Darry was nice and loved me, back when Sodapop was here. Back when they both cared about me, back when my parents were alive…back when Johnny and Dally were alive…back then…
Back then…
Back then everything was new, golden – like that poem from Robert Frost – but now I was turning green. I guess he was right – nothing gold can stay.
…
"I think you should actually start looking for a job." I stated, looking at Two-Bit with a frown, "I don't need you babysittin' me when Darry's not around. I'm not a baby no more. He can hi—yell all he wants." I caught myself at the last minute, but thankfully Two-Bit didn't seem to notice.
"Shoot kid – the day I get a job is the day my mamma will have a heart attack!" Good 'ol Two-Bit. He's so used to having the rep of being 'jobless' that he doesn't even care anymore when we make fun of him for it.
"Yeah, well maybe that'll be soon."
Two-Bit thought for a moment, then said "Nah, my mamma's too young to have a heart attack – most people get em when there in their sixties or som'in right? Tha's old. My mother's young. Hittin forty-three." He said proudly.
"Uh-huh…"
"So kid, what'cha been up to lately?"
"Nothing." I said as quick as possible, trying to get off that topic.
"Nothin eh?" Two-Bit asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Mhm."
Two-Bit frowned at me for a second, then went on. "So the other day I was at Bucks right…"
I spaced out most of the story, thinking about my home-life. Darry. Alcohol. Fists flying. Soda. Vietnam. Emptiness.
"- so then she said, "Ew I ain't touchin that!" Two-Bit started cracking up at his own joke, which faded when he realized I hadn't given a response to the story,
"Kid, were you even listenin to a word I was sayin?"
"What?" I asked, looking up at him.
Two-Bit sighed and said, "never mind. You must got a lot on your mind kid. Tell me, what's goin through that thick head of yours?" I decided to ignore his jibes, and frowned.
"Nothin."
"Nothin?"
"Nope."
"Sure kid, whatever you say." Two-Bit smirked, and I half-expected him to hit me like Steve had, but he just went on talking. And talking. And talking.
Finally he got bored of talking, grabbed some chocolate cake out of the fridge, and sat down to flip on the TV with a bear bottle in his hand. I vaguely heard the sound of Mickey Mouse, and Two-Bit's loud cracking up.
…
"Ya got a smoke Steve?" I asked, walking up behind a man with black hair curled in complicated swirls. He jumped a mile then cursed.
"Jeesh kid, scared the crap outta me. Here." He tossed me a package of Kools. I shakily grabbed a cancer stick, cursing when it crumpled in the package – my hand was shaking so hard that it accidentally snapped it. I reached for another one, proud that I had at least gotten one this time. I leaned my head against the wall behind me and exhaled smoke slowly.
"What's got you down in the dumps?" Steve asked, looking sideways at me. I shrugged.
"Darry hit me." I said matter-of-factly. Steve didn't say anything, just frowned and turned away.
"Yeah well, I aint givin you shelter." He joked. I looked at him in surprise.
"I didn't ask to stay over."
"Well, you were goin to weren't cha?"
"N—I don't know. I wasn't planning on it, I just wanted to get out for a little bit."
Steve sighed and said, "Darry know you're here?"
"No."
"Kid I swear your givin Darry more and more excuses to beat the livin crud outta you, ya know that?"
"I don't care." I mumbled, staring at the ground. Steve watched me curiously.
"Yes you do." He said, nodding his head as though he had just come to that conclusion.
"No, I don't care anymore." I said, thinking about it. I was right – even though they hurt physically, Darry's punches don't hurt me mentally any more.
"Kid, don't get like that." Steve sighed.
"Like what?" I asked, confused.
"Just – be yourself kid. Let it out."
"There aint nothin to let out. You're the only person I really talk to anymore. Hell, I talk to you more then I talk to Two-Bit." I realized.
Steve smiled slightly, "Yeah you might wanna get some more friends."
I didn't answer, I just clenched my jaw and stared ahead.
"What's the matter?" Steve asked, lookin me over.
"Darry – he aint lettin me do track next year." I said slowly.
"Shoot kid, that's all you're worried about?"
"Shoot nothin!" I snapped. "Track was the only thing that kept me sane through all this! That and Sodapop's letters, which he stopped sending." I confessed, still a little pissed off.
Steve looked confused. "He stopped sendin you letters?" he asked.
"Yeah." I sighed.
Steve frowned at him for a minute, before asking, "Do you think it's Darry?"
"Do I think what's Darry?" I asked.
"Ya know, Soda not sendin you letters and stuff. Maybe Darry's like, intercepting them or somethin." I raised my eyebrows, surprised that Steve had used a word like 'intercepting'. Then thought about what he said, but that didn't seem very likely. I just know that Soda hates me – Darry told me, I didn't believe him…then Soda stopped sendin me messages. That had got me worried. I just knew that Soda hated me. He sent Darry messages, but not me. And he never asked about me in Darry's messages. I would know – Darry would show them to me and taunt me. Sometimes I wondered if they were even real letter's that Sodapop sent him.
"Maybe." I said, but didn't really agree with him.
Steve didn't say anything else, just stood there, smokin.
…
P
"Hey Pony." Soda greeted me as I walked into the living room. I glanced around, Steve wasn't here and his dad was gone for the week.
"Soda?" I asked. He was layin there with his eye's closed, lookin like he was half asleep.
"Hm?"
"When are we leavin?" Soda opened one eye to look at me.
"Well uh, you wanna leave?" he asked, getting up from his spot on the couch to crawl into a sitting position.
"Yeah." I admitted quietly.
There was a silence then Soda said, "We'll leave tonight then…" he sounded slightly sad, but it lifted my spirits a lot. For the first time in a long time I smiled. It might not have been the biggest, brightest smile of all times, but it was still a smile.
"Thanks Soda." I said, walking over to sit next to him. He started to pull me into a hug and I flinched away on reflex, earning a saddened look from Soda. He sighed.
"Sorry kiddo." He said, putting his arms back down, but I snuggled up next to him. Relieved, Soda pulled me back into a hug. We sat like that until I drifted off, still in Sodapop's arms. I felt safe. For the time being.
…
P
"What, you don't like this song?" Sodapop asked, turning up the radio. I inwardly rolled my eyes. We had left Steve's about an hour ago, and were just driving, looking around for a motel to stay at. Sodapop had been singing along to the radio as loud as he possibly could. "You aint nothing but a hound dog…!" he yelled.
"No, it's fine." I said, staring at it.
Soda gave me a tight smile before returning back to his singing, but he wasn't as in to it anymore. He even went off-pitch on a few lines. I mean – Soda wasn't the best singer to begin with, but he always had a good tone.
Sodapop turned to look at me, "So what'cha think?" he asked. "Should I get a career in the sin - as a singer?" he asked.
I couldn't help but to laugh, "Sure Sodapop, you do that." Soda gave me a whacky grin, and I returned it. His face lit up like a Christmas tree at a job well done.
I just chuckled and shook my head, watching the people pass by us so fast it was like slow motion. There were a crowd of people gathering somewhere. Weird. I looked closer and felt my stomach drop. "Hey Sodapop you see that?"
Soda averted his eyes off the road to see what I was talking about. He did a double-take. "Holy shit!"
I clung to my seatbelt for dear life as Soda swerved the car around and almost hit a tree. I stared at him wide-eyed, he gave a brief "sorry" before unbuckling himself and jumping out of the car. I followed in suit, but more slowly. I already knew what was there, but I didn't want to admit it to myself yet. Sodapop was frozen in the crowd of people, fear evident in his eyes.
"Sodapop?" I asked, coming to stand next to him. Soda hurriedly ushered me away from the crowd but not before I saw the dead body of Tim Shepard.
"That's Tim! That's Tim!" I cried out, pointing. Sodapop tried pushing me back but I gave a mighty struggle – Soda was panting by the time he finally let me go. I simply raced back to the group of stragglers that were still examining the body. I briefly wondered why the police weren't here yet.
"Hey, look at this!" one guy shouted, holding something in the air. It was white and red.
No…it was white with red blood-stains on it.
It was a note.
I felt myself freeze as the man spoke aloud what was written on it. "I'm coming for the kid and his brother next – stop me if you can. T.F."
I didn't even register Soda's hands resting on my shoulders, I was just so...oblivious…so…numb. T.F…
Toby Fisher.
Okay I'm starting to think these chapters are sucking – anyone want to reassure me? Haha, or am I right?
Well, there's only going to be a few more memory chapters – then we'll go onto the real plotline.
