Chapter 2

Dallas wasn't always the cold, mean boy he'd grown up to be. His change could be attributed to his home life, where he grew up, maybe he was even just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. As a small child Dallas was so full of life, so willing to learn. Everything he did burst with passion, he was just a normal 5 year old boy.

Dally's father didn't stick around, once he found out he'd gotten Dally's mom pregnant he skipped town. He was a hood, he didn't want to be tied down with children no matter how much he liked the sound of Elaine Winston. Dally always wondered why his mom decided to give him his father's last name, in his eyes he was useless. His mom was a good girl, high off the feeling of having a bad boy show her some attention. It seems as if history repeated itself.

Growing up, Dally and his mom had a nice relationship. He wasn't the type to kiss her goodnight, but when his friends came over after school he wouldn't let them eat her favorite pudding. Dallas was always craving male attention, though, with not having a father or brother. Sometimes his dad sent a birthday card, but they never came anywhere close to his birthday. They stopped coming when he was five. He wondered why he sent them, maybe it was to keep his mother happy, or because he felt guilty, maybe he was mocking him. He looked to some of the older boys in school for some guidance, things he couldn't talk about with his mother.

In fourth grade someone made the accusation that Dally's mother was a floozy for not being married and having a kid. That was the first time Dally broke someone's nose. A few of the big kids saw it and got the impression that he was tough. They accepted him, and for the first time, Dallas had some kind of acceptance from an older male. It was what he always craved.

He began spending time with them and their older brothers and friends. He stopped showing up in the field behind the school for football. He left the house early and came home late, he was worrying his mother to death. New York City was a rough place in the late fifties, and it's no wonder he fell into the wrong crowd. Jail, drugs, booze, girls; it all became a part of his lifestyle. He saw friends die, but he was in too deep to ever get out. He was twelve years old when he took place in his first murder, his job was to lure the man in. Who would ever suspect a scrawny little kid? He went home and cried, but he met up with his gang the next day.

Dally's mother had saw her little boy transform before her eyes. She tried everything, but nothing could tame him. If she'd ground him he'd just leave the house while she was at work or running errands. She knew she had to do something or her son was going to be one of the many young faces in the obituary section of the paper. She loved Dallas, and because of that, she had to let him go.

Dally remembers hearing yelling on the phone some nights. He never knew who she was talking to, but boy, did he have an idea.

"He's your kid, too!" She'd scream into the line. Dally thought maybe she was trying to get him to come up and visit, that'd be stupid.

"He is going to die," she'd repeat over and over again. "You have to help me." Dally'd just put his pillow over his head.

It came as a surprise when he came home one night, buzzed from a party down the street. His mother was sitting on his bed, tears streaming down her face. All the contents of his closet were packed into two small luggage bags.

"The fuck is going on?" he stammered out. He still felt weird cursing in front of his mother.

"You're going to live with your father in Oklahoma," she explained. Next came the obscenities flowing out of Dally's mouth, followed by protests. He felt like his mother was abandoning him, just like his father had done many years ago. His whole life was here, his gang. He couldn't just up and leave like that to go to some hell in the middle of nowhere, to live with a man who didn't give a shit about him.

"Dallas, I don't want to bury my baby," his mother squeaked out between sobs. She didn't want to lose him to the streets, like so many other mothers already have. "You can come back as soon as you straighten out, but if you don't leave now I'm going to lose you."

He'd seen his mom cry plenty of times, but never like this. Never because of the fear that her son was going to die. He'd imagined she had before, but never in front of him. He kept his face stony and hard when he agreed, but only with the fear of dropping it he'd crumble. He didn't want to die. The image of his mother huddling over his casket proved to be too much. He was determined to come back to her one way or another.

A year later he would get a Christmas card from her, a picture of her, her husband, and new born baby sprawled across it. He didn't even know she had a boyfriend, he wished he paid more attention to her. He ripped it up and never spoke to her again.

A fourteen year old Dallas arrived in Tulsa, struck by the lack of pollution and tall buildings. He had an address written down on a piece of paper that his mother gave him. He stood in front of the small run-down house for a while, debating on going in or not. He finally walked up the porch, knocking on the door. He wanted to throw up.

"Hey, Dal," his dad greeted him at the door, with a kind of deer-in-headlights expression. He looked just like him. Dallas hated him on the spot. He hated the world.

Mr. Winston had a problem with the bottle, working the night shift and drinking and sleeping all day. Dallas stayed locked up in his room most days, remembering his life in New York and stewing over how much he hated it here.

Dally's dad was both physically and emotionally abusive at times. He'd smack him around a lot, hating the fact that he'd gotten his high school sweetheart pregnant. One day Dally's dad literally dragged him to get a haircut, he hated Dally's hair long. Maybe that's why Dally never got haircuts. He was really upset and decided it'd be a good idea to mouth of to his dad, he ended up with a belt to his back and a tough looking shiner.

That was the last straw, Dally ran out of the house and never looked back. He still had a taste for alcohol that would never leave him. Several weeks prior he had sauntered into a bar, expecting to get a drink. The bartender laughed in his face and sent him along. While walking away, a guy a few years older than him followed him out.

"Hey, man. I could get you some booze, might cost you some, though," he explained to Dallas. His name was Buck, he had a real goofy grin. He apparently had some sort of party house, where all the kids in the neighborhood could drink up without getting carded.

One night Buck was out driving around when he saw Dallas sleeping on a park bench. He offered him a room for the weekend, but after that he couldn't help him out. That Saturday Buck took Dally to the rodeo with him. Somehow, Dally had suckered him into letting him ride for one of his events. He did pretty damn good for it being his first time. After that, Buck offered Dallas a permanent room so long as he did well for him in the rodeos, which he did.

Dallas liked Buck, it just wasn't the kind of place he wanted to live in. There was no one to cook for him, or do his laundry, or clean up after him. He had a terrible time sleeping at night with Hank Williams blaring through the thin floorboards.

"I'm keepin' his legacy alive," Buck would say, dumbfounded that someone didn't want to hear his music at all hours of the day.

It didn't take long for Dally to realize he could get the girls to do just about anything for him if he just paid a speck of attention to them. Some of the older girls that hung around Buck's, in their early twenties, felt sorry for Dal and would often stay to make him breakfast or wash his clothes. All he had to do was whisper something dirty in their ear and they'd be under his spell. He was smart, he knew what he was doing.

"Just watch this," he'd told Two-Bit one time after bringing him to Buck's. He approached a girl who had probably had too much to drink and began sweet talking her. Two-Bit could tell from the pink covering her cheeks that it wasn't anything to be proud of. A short, few minutes later she was following Dally up to his room, the same shameful walk she'd make in the morning.

There was no denying Dally's spell on women. He typically went for the greasy, makeup clad girls from his side of town that cussed and smoked too much. Sometimes he'd manage to score out of his league. No matter who they were, they'd be gone in the morning before he woke up. Scrambling to get dressed quietly, they'd make their way out of Buck's with a heavy heart and regret. They knew the score.

For the few nights that Buck wasn't having a party, Dally had to fend for himself. There was never anything in the fridge, and Dally was such a picky eater. He was spoiled as kid, with his mom always preparing his favorite home cooked meals. He knew if he was going to eat he'd have to find something for himself.

On one of those days, Dally made his way down to the grocery store with a few bucks he "found" in one of Buck's rooms. He was just coming to get a few things; milk, a candy bar, and two boxes of cereal. Buck always made fun of him saying that he ate like a little kid. Dally would just give him the finger.

Dallas decided against getting a basket and just carried everything to the register. While walking, he bumped shoulders with someone, dropping what was in his hands.

"Watch where you're going!" He whipped around real quick, startled by what he saw. She was beautiful, surely she was old enough to be his mother. She muttered a soft "sorry" and helped him pick everything up.

"Here, let me help you carry these things to your mother's cart," she insisted.

"Ain't got a mom, ma'am," he said with a hint of anger. He was still resentful towards his mother for sending him off to this hell hole. Her face dropped, and he momentarily felt bad for not lying.

"Well I'm Mrs. Curtis. You must know my son Sodapop from school, you look to be about the same age."

"Don't go to school, ma'am," he drawled. She searched his face for some sort of joke, but there was nothing. After a few minutes of going back and forth Dallas finally agreed to go over to her house for dinner.

He half wondered if maybe Mrs. Curtis had a crush on him, but then scolded himself for thinking so stupidly. Walking into the small house, he was greeted by four guys. One looked his age, the other looked a bit younger, one was probably older, and then there was their father.

Sodapop was too rambunctious, he was constantly poking everyone and running around the house with some goofy grin. Dally had to hold himself back from socking him. Dally made some joke about Ponyboy's name, and after seeing no one laugh, he quickly mumbled an "it was just a joke". He was a quiet kid, but had some smart-ass tendencies, he liked that about him. Dally instantly clicked with Darry, he was still craving that older brother relationship with someone. Darry was apparently the star of the football team, maybe he'd go watch him play one day.

Mrs. Curtis insisted that he come over tomorrow after school to meet the boys' friends. He nodded and made his way back to Buck's. There was something different about Dallas that the Curtis family couldn't quite place. He seemed so indifferent to everything, like the life had been sucked straight out of him. They wondered how he'd fit into the lively crowd they hung around with.

No one knew how well he'd mesh with the little dark eyed boy down the street, or how close they'd become. No one knew what went on in his mind. No one knew that he'd take his own life, there was so much that no one knew about Dallas Winston.