Johnny and Pony are sitting side by side, ready to start lunch. Two-Bit is sitting across from them, ready to start trouble.
"What do you got for lunch, Pony?" Before Ponyboy can inspect his brown paper bag, Two-Bit snatches it and decides to find out for himself. He takes out the items one by one.
"Baloney and cheese sandwich, on...is this whole wheat bread? Gross. An apple? Peanuts? A bottle of water? Wow. It must be real rough living with Darry. There's nothing in here worth trading, let alone stealing. I'm surprised he lets you eat all the chocolate cake and colored pancakes that Soda cooks up."
Pony groans. "He says I gotta stay healthy so I can get a track scholarship."
Two-Bit whistles. "Better you than me, kiddo."
"Well, what do you got?"
"Lemme check."
"You mean you don't know?" Pony asks.
"My mom packs it for me," Two-Bit says.
Ponyboy and Johnny exchange a look.
"What!"
"You're seventeen. Don't you think you should pack your own lunch?" Ponyboy asks, eyebrow raised.
"You let Darry pack your lunch," Two-Bit accuses, shame-faced.
"Darry's controlling," Ponyboy says.
"Darry likes to look after you," Johnny corrects.
They both look over to see what Johnny's got. It's the same meal as usual. Nothing. There was nothing in the fridge. And there's never any money in his house.
Pony pushes his sandwich over to Johnny. "You can have it. I don't know why Darry always insists on giving me pepper jack, when he knows I don't like it." Except, Ponyboy loves pepper jack.
"Nah, Pony, I ain't hungry." Johnny slides it back over.
"This pepper jack ain't going to eat itself," Ponyboy says. He doesn't push the matter and hand him the sandwich again, but he bites into his apple, just in case.
A hand drops on Johnny's shoulder startling him so bad that he jumps in his seat.
"Sorry to bother." It's Randy. He slides onto the bench directly next to Johnny, as if it were perfectly natural for him to sit there. Johnny tries to tell him through looks alone that he'd better go away, but Randy doesn't seem to get the message.
Two-Bit stands up and leans over the table. "What do you want, punk?" That probably got the message through.
Randy shakes his head, amused. He ignores Two-Bit and hands Johnny a folded white sheet of paper. "I couldn't wait for our session to show you," he says, speaking quickly, like he's really excited about some big news.
Johnny stares at it, wondering what could possibly be important enough for Randy to disobey every unwritten social rule regarding the boundaries of greasers and Socs in the cafeteria.
"Well, open it!" Randy insists.
Johnny unfolds the paper. It's his hand writing. There are ten math problems. In red markings at the top of the page is written "95%." Johnny examines the quiz. He answered nine problems perfectly, and one he received partial credit for, because he got the formula and steps correct, but the arithmetic wrong in one place.
"It's that quiz you retook," Randy says, unnecessarily. "I stopped by Mr. Johnson's office right before lunch."
The two of them stare at each other. For a second, Johnny forgets that his buddies are watching. That, indeed, a lot of the students nearby are peering over to get a good look, because greasers and Socs in close proximity during lunch usually mean an interesting fight is about to start. All he can think about in that moment is the pride that's overwhelming him, reaching up and knotting his throat. He's looking at Randy, smiling broadly, but his eyes are stinging like he's going to cry. Grades shouldn't matter like this. School shouldn't matter. But here is proof. Physical evidence that he's not retarded like everybody thinks he is. Like he thought he was.
"Thanks," Johnny chokes out.
"It was all you," Randy says. "I didn't take that test." He pats Johnny on shoulder again and stands up. "Guess I better get going." But his eyes catch something on the table. Or, more accurately, his eyes catch an absence from the table.
"Hey, kid, where's your lunch?" Randy casually asks.
Johnny clears his throat. "I forgot it."
"Why don't you go buy some?"
"I forgot money."
"Why don't you put it on a tab?"
Johnny's face turns red in shame. He's already built up a tab that's too long gone delinquent. He's not allowed to buy anymore lunch until he pays back the $6.03 that he owes.
"Why don't you shut up?" Two-Bit answers for Johnny.
"Hey, what's your problem?" Randy genuinely has no idea what he's just brought up. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a crumbled bill, and drops it on the table in front of Johnny. Johnny stares at it in disbelief.
"Really, I'm just not hungry," Johnny says. "I ate this huge breakfast-"
"Don't worry about it. You can pay me back later." Before Johnny can protest further, Randy turns around and walks away. Johnny thinks for a second of chasing after him to give it back, but he's pretty sure Randy wouldn't take it, and then it would cause a scene and he'd be even more humiliated. He looks at the bill on the table. He couldn't bear to pick it up and use it. To shame himself like that.
Ponyboy and Two-Bit are staring at him.
"That was weird," says Two-Bit, breaking the ice. "How much is it?" Two-Pick picks it the bill and unfolds it. "Wow." He holds it out for Johnny and Ponyboy to see.
Twenty dollars.
Twenty dollars.
"Wow, is right," Ponyboy says. Because there really is nothing else to say. It's an enormous amount of money. Enough money for almost three weeks of lunch.
"He must really like you," Ponyboy concludes.
"Naw," Two-Bit says. "He's just really rich."
Two-Bit hands Johnny the bill, and Johnny shoves it into his pocket. As soon as their next lesson starts, he's going to give it back.
TBC