Johnny's started walking home. He's not familiar with this side of town, so he's not even sure if he is headed in the right direction. He guesses it's the right direction, so long as it's away from the Adderson household.

Johnny's making a random right at a stop sign, when he hears the sounds of running footsteps behind him.

"Wait up!" Randy shouts. Johnny keeps walking. But with Randy's long stride and cross-country training, it doesn't take long for him to catch up. Johnny stops in his tracks, knowing he's not going to be able to avoid him. Randy is holding a brown paper grocery bag, which he hands over to Johnny. Johnny reluctantly takes it. He peaks inside. There's a box of tupperware with the remainder of his meal inside, and underneath the food is the pile of Randy's reject clothes.

"My mom packed you the leftovers," Randy says.

"How do I get home from here?" Johnny asks.

"I can drive you."

"I can walk."

"Your ankle's not completely better yet. I saw you limping."

Johnny shrugs. "I'll live."

"I'm sorry about what happened in there."

"You shouldn't talk back to your dad like that."

Randy stares at him, like he's just said something crazy. "He was being rude to you."

"I get it. I mean, look at me."

Randy does look at him. But not with judgment. He looks at him with compassion, and Johnny has to turn away.

"Johnny, trust me, it's not you. The clothes and the hair don't help, but you could be the valedictorian and my dad would still make a comment about the cut of your tie or ask where your parents went to school or whatever. No one impresses him. Especially not me."

Johnny doesn't understand it. Not one bit. If he could win sports competitions and spelling bees and awards of academic achievement, he's sure his parents would love him. Johnny doesn't deserve to be loved because he's a bum, but Randy is successful. That all of his achievements aren't enough makes no sense.

"Come on, Randy," Johnny says. "Don't say that. You're like, the school hero or something. They've gotta be proud."

"My mom is proud. But it's like, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, nothing will be good enough for my dad. You know, I'm on the polo team-"

"We have a polo team?"

"No, we don't. But my family's country club does. Anyway, I'm on the polo team there, and after the last game of an undefeated season, the only thing my dad had to say about it was that I missed a goal."

"Screw your dad. That's impressive. I could never do nothing like that."

"Yes, you could. You could."

"You don't have to be nice. We both know I'm dumb, and I ain't exactly athletic."

"If you had a mom who checked your homework, made sure you got to school on time, packed you a lunch every day and left you encouraging notes in it, kissed every bruise better...you'd have never fallen behind in school in the first place. You'd make honor roll like me.

"If you had a dad who enrolled you in sports, practiced with you at home, hired personal trainers, told you not to smoke, invited the coach over for dinner...you'd make whatever team you went for, too.

"My dad is right. I'm not exceptional. Considering the advantages I've been given, I'm average. But the thing is, I'm okay with that. He's the one who's not. And I'm sick of trying to impress him.

"You know, I think that's why so many social club kids hate greasers. We have all these merits and marks of achievement. But we know they're lies. We know deep down, what separates us and the greasers is money. That's why we have to constantly prove our superiority by not caring, not feeling. That's why we fight you. To prove we're men. It's all bullshit and I'm done with it."

Randy kicks up dirt. "I'm doing with taking my dad's comments, too. I swear I'm done with it. I've started talking back, and pretty soon I'm gonna do more than talk if he doesn't let up."

"Don't." Johnny sounds panicked. Shoot. He is panicked. He knows how bad it can get when you talk back to your folks. He doesn't want that for Randy. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" Randy asks. He's angry. Angry at his dad, certainly. Angry at the world. Maybe even angry at Johnny for rejecting him.

Johnny doesn't know what to say. He can't find the words, because if he said exactly what is on his mind, it would sound wrong, even though he knows he's right. Your folks are right no matter what. They are allowed to discipline you however they want. It's wrong to argue with them. You owe them your life, because they made you and they provide for you. It is your job to make them happy, and if you don't, you deserve what you get. They hurt you because they want what's best for you.

These are the things he tells himself when his folks lay in on him. And helps. It does. He doesn't know when he came up with those laws, those truths; it's like he's always known them. And if believes in them, he can accept whatever his folks do. But if he said that out loud, Randy would think he was crazy.

Johnny needs to help Randy understand, though, so Randy doesn't get himself into trouble. "Randy, listen to me," Johnny says, struggling with his wording. "Don't fight back. It only escalates if you do. You just gotta, I don't know, let him treat you how he wants to treat you. Don't question it." That's good, Johnny thinks. That's a safe way to put it.

"Wow." Randy shakes his head. "And I thought I was fucked up. Someone mistreats and your answer is 'submit'? Johnny, that is not healthy."

Johnny's face goes red. "Neither is raging against a world you can't change! You ain't only like this with your dad, but with everything."

"What do you mean?"

"How many times do I gotta hear you talk about Civil Rights or how the war is wrong? It's not like anybody in power cares enough to change those things. You should just let things be, even if they are shitty. If you fight back, life gets shittier. Keep your head down, and yeah, submit, if you want to call it that."

"I can't imagine what in your life happened to make you this apathetic. You shouldn't just lie down when things get tough, Johnny." Randy sounds sorry for him. Patronizingly sorry for him.

Johnny suddenly hates him. Randy, with his stupid, naive ideals. Randy, with all this righteous fight in him, criticizing Johnny for giving up. He doesn't have a right to criticize.

"Maybe you can't imagine what happened, but you were part of it," Johnny mutters under his breath. "You and your goddamn friends."

It's true. Johnny has always been kind of weak and timid, but he's never been this bad off. After that beating, he hasn't been the same. It's not just the fear or the jumpiness. In the months since it happened, he's felt completely, utterly helpless. Helpless to stop bad things from happening, helpless to protect himself, helpless to do anything but feel helpless.

That night, he had started out brave, slinging insults back at them, defending himself with his wits and his fists. But there were too many of them. They were bigger than him, and stronger, and mean with drink. And they didn't win because they had broken his ribs, scarred his face, or damaged his kidneys. They won because he had cried. They won because he had begged them to stop. He's taken a lot of beatings in his sixteen years, but he'd never begged before that night.

Since then, life has seemed like an endless strand of impersonal objects set out to defeat him, regardless of whether or not he fights back. What Johnny lost that night, besides a fight, besides an already tenuous sense of personal safety, was his self respect. He's stopped fighting.

"What do you mean?" Randy asks. "What do I have to do with your apathy?"

"Forget it."

"No, tell me what you mean. Are you speaking metaphorically? Do you know how tired I am of getting blamed for all of the world's problems as if I am personally responsible, just because I was born rich? I can't help being given all the breaks, Johnny, and I'm doing my best to be socially conscious-"

"It's not about your damn money!" Johnny interrupts. "And for such a 'socially conscious' person, you sure have a real convenient memory." Randy's confused face infuriates Johnny even greater.

"You know what? I know what metaphorical means. And I'm speaking literally now. You and your buddies fucked me up. Take these." Johnny shoves the bag of charity clothes into Randy's chest. "And get out of my life."

TBC