Author's Notes:
Sorry to disappoint those of you who were hoping for a happy ending, but as you might have guessed, this story is going to align with the events of the book from here on out. There are only three chapters left (including this one). As for Ponyboy knowing about Randy's involvement in Johnny's jumping earlier in the narrative: I promise that will be explained next chapter. For now, let's just say Pony's a good friend, and not the most reliable narrator.
I have tentative plans for a short sequel, Randy's perspective. Please let me know if this story sound interesting to you in the comments section!
From this point on, the plot, as well as quite a bit of the dialogue, is taken directly from The Outsiders (both the book and the film). I do not own The Outsiders. Also, there is a line lifted from the 1965 movie, Beach Blanket Bingo. I do not own that film, either.
Once again, thanks for reading.
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Johnny is struggling to get over the back fence that faces the rear of the drive-in movie screen; he can hear the dialogue of the film that has already started, even if he can't see it. "I come to tell you that these beach bums is bums!"
It's one of those cheesy motorcycle and bikini flicks that Pony loves to hate and drags him to all the time, just the two of them. That kid somehow manages to remember the most ridiculous quotes at just the right moment weeks later, forcing Johnny to gulp down his laughter in embarrassment because none of the other boys get what's so funny.
Pony's already hopped to other side, and he's kinda smiling smugly at himself for being such an athlete. Johnny cusses under his breath, 'cause the damn fence is built pretty high to prevent just this thing from happening, and he can't get a good grip on the chain-links now that the rubber traction at the bottom of his shoes has worn out. Dally should have let them pay like Pony wanted to–it only costs twenty-five cents, and even Johnny has a quarter on him. He slides down the fence for the second time, burning his palms. Dally snickers and gives him a boost. When Johnny reaches the top, he swings himself over. Somehow, Dally lands before he does.
It's rare he gets to hang out with Ponyboy and Dallas, just the three of them together; Darry doesn't let Pony spend time around Dally without the rest of them too often. Out of the whole gang, the two of them are the least connected people (Johnny has a sneaking suspicion that Ponyboy doesn't even like Dally all that much). But Johnny never feels better than when he's in between them. Nights like this are rare and perfect, getting his two favorite people in the world all to himself. He's always felt that he has two best buddies, buddies he cares about in two drastically different ways, but with equal strength just the same. It used to worry him, like he felt like he was supposed to choose or something, but he thinks it's okay to have two best friends; just like it's okay that Pony has two brothers.
Dally spots the backs of two chicks' heads up towards the front, and he eyes them like he's got a plan, grins a feral grin at Johnny and Pony, and then saunters down the aisle in the girls' direction, even though there are at least three dozen other unoccupied seats. Ponyboy rolls his eyes at Johnny when Dally's not looking.
Dally stops at the aisle behind the girls, and Pony urges Johnny in first. Johnny's a little disappointed that he's sitting on the end: it leaves the other seat open for a stranger and keeps him too far away from Dallas to have a conversation, but there's not much he can do now that Pony's pushing him along impatiently and playfully, so he takes his seat. It's also annoying because he's sitting directly behind someone, so he can't kick his feet up, and the seats aren't elevated, so the top of the chick's head in front of him blocks the bottom third of the screen. The girl turns her face just slightly, and he catches her profile, the outline of her button nose.
He thinks he might be sick.
It's Randy's girl, Marcia. The cute, Socy brunette, with her perfect pony and her perfect life. Why the hell did Dallas have to choose these seats of all places? All the thrill of sneaking in, all the joy of the occasion is sucked up and spit out with just the glance of that girl. He's going to be stuck looking at her the entire film, stuck thinking about Randy, when all he wants is a good night out with his buddies.
Going steady. He swallows, wondering what it must be like to be allowed to walk around arm-in-arm in public and kiss in public and not have anybody harass you or hate you for it. He wonders what else they've done besides kiss. He hates himself for wondering, for caring. He doesn't own Randy. With the way things ended, he shouldn't care if Randy slept with half the school by now. It has nothing to do with him.
He wonders if Marcia's just a mask Randy can hide behind, or if maybe Randy's not completely like Johnny and is capable of being a real man, too. He wonders if love was a line Randy borrowed for convenience, if he uses it on all the people he wants to lay. Johnny feels a wave of guilt and shame and honestly, a little vindication, when he realizes that technically, that night in the lot when Randy came to kiss him, that night that ended so disastrously, Randy'd been cheating on Marcia with him.
"Hey Pony, you know what I love? I love me a real redhead," Dally says, kicking his feet up on the seat in front of him, crossing his legs leisurely so his dirty shoes land right next to to the face of a real redhead. Bob's redhead, Johnny realizes. He takes a deep breath, praying this is where Dally's comments end. Pony shakes his head in Johnny's direction, amused and exasperated with Dally's antics. He gives Johnny a knowing look, as if they both know the trouble that's coming.
Johnny closes his eyes and swallows. Not this girl, he thinks, willing Dally to hear his thoughts and understand. Please just leave her alone. Because neither Pony nor Dally have any idea of the real trouble that's coming if he keeps it up. This situation ain't as simple as Dallas's usual flirting that either ends in a slap or a one night stand. Scratch that. 'Flirt' is too soft and generous a word to apply to anything Dallas has ever said to a woman.
Johnny's going to take a wild guess and assume this girl didn't get to be captain of the cheerleading team, didn't get to be the queen bee who wears Bob's letter jacket, by having a nice personality. He bets she's a real bitch. But then again, Dallas probably knows that. It seems that somehow, instinctively, Dal can scan a crowd and know every time which girl is the wild, manipulative sort who'll respond to his advances in kind, with either an insult or an insinuation. Johnny's never seen Dally pull this macho shit with a girl who got shy and scared and cried. And Johnny knows plenty of girls do react that way when men get mouthy, 'cause his seen it happen with other people.
Of all the chicks in the world, Dallas had to go and pick up Bob's.
Dallas leans forward in his chair, hovers over her shoulder so his lips are near her neck. Johnny can see the girl's body stiffen in indignation. "Are you a real redhead?" Dally asks into her ear. Johnny watches as she recoils.
He wants to tell Dallas to stop it, but he can't. Not after he just got through with serving time for his sake. Not after everything Dally has done for him. He taps his foot anxiously on the grass, waiting for Dally to give up and leave her alone, feeling a new sort of helpless. It's different to feel helpless from stopping friend than it is from stopping an enemy.
"How can I tell if you're a real redhead? If this pretty red hair on your head is the same as it is-"
He can't take it. He stands up abruptly, hoping Dally'll get bored with the game after his interruption. "I'm going to get a Coke," he mumbles, and shuffles out, stepping over Pony's feet on the floor, and waiting an uncomfortably long time for Dally to huff, annoyed, and remove his feet from off the chair in front of him to let Johnny step by.
When he returns with his pop, Pony's sitting there alone, chatting with the girls. They seem to be having a pleasant conversation. Johnny hovers there awkwardly, bending the straw of his drink back and forth between his fingers, waiting for Pony to move in his legs (which are now stretched out, cat-like) so he can scoot by. He feels exposed. Bob's girlfriend's body is angled so that she's turn around and facing them. And Johnny is keenly, uncomfortably aware of her gaze. It's not often a Soc girl bothers to glance his way, but when one does it's always the same: a critical scanning up and down that always ends in a sneer of contempt. He quickly shoots his eyes in her direction, maybe as a form of defiance, to prove he can stare with equal disdain. But he never gets the chance to scowl at her; she's wearing a warm, gentle smile. Like she can tell he's uncomfortable and wants to make him feel better.
Johnny shoots her a mumbled, guilty, "Hi," feeling the sting of his incorrect and unfair assumption that she must be a bitch. This time, even though she's the Soc, he was the one to be judgmental.
Johnny hastily takes his seat, balances his pop between his knees, and tucks his cold fingers under his thighs. He stares at the screen intently, hoping to signal that he's so engrossed in the ridiculous plot that he doesn't want to talk. Hoping the girls will turn their faces back around, leave them alone, and watch the movie as if nothing had happened. He wishes he'd gone to the bathroom instead of having grabbed a drink, 'cause he really feels nauseated by the whole ordeal. At least they don't try to talk to him.
When Dally returns, he plants himself directly next to Bob's girl and hands both girls a Coke. He drapes an arm around the redhead, stretches out in cocky indifference, and says something smug under his breath to her. She throws the pop in his face. Johnny's guessing that's exactly the reaction Dally was looking for, going by the frighteningly delighted way he's wiping off his mouth with his sleeve. "That might cool you off greaser..."
As Johnny listens to her increasingly loud retort, he starts shaking. The cold of the night is something fierce, but that ain't the reason.
This needs to end. Now.
He can't have Bob and Randy and their posse chasing after them, seeking revenge after Dallas inevitably takes this too far. Because when the Socs come looking for them, Pony ain't gonna be able to keep his mouth shut. He's gonna blurt out who they are, what they've done to Johnny. And without second thought before or after, without an ounce of remorse, Dally will do his best to kill them. He's wanted them dead since he found Johnny in the lot, and Dally always gets what he wants. Johnny knows this like he knows his times tables. With some things, Dallas is as predictable as a mathematic fact. That's how this night will end if he doesn't put a stop to this now. If he lets it escalate. He can't let Dally get locked up in the cooler for life.
"Fiery, huh?" Dal asks wickedly. "Well, that's the way I like them."
"Leave her alone, Dally."
"Huh?" Dally asks, initially confused. And Johnny watches as that confusion changes to fury.
He realizes suddenly what he must think: that he's jealous. That's he's trying to get in the way of him getting laid because Johnny wants to be the one with him. And it's so unfair because that's not even how he feels. This has nothing to do with that at all. But Dally's glowering at him with such contempt that Johnny knows that has to be what he's thinking. And he can't have Dally think that about him. He can't have Dally think he'd ever stand in the way of something that makes him feel good. He's only ever wanted to make Dally happy.
He's too upset to speak, but even if weren't, he couldn't explain. No. He can't let Dally get locked up in the cooler for life. Or worse, get sentenced to death and die in the chair before he turns eighteen.
"What did you say to me?" Dally shouts at him.
Johnny sinks further down into the seat. He sees Pony's wide, surprised eyes boring into him as Pony watches the whole exchange. He looks like he can't believe what Johnny just did. Johnny can't believe himself, either. It's not his place to talk back to Dal, who has always protected him, who has always had his back. He feels like a traitor, but he has to do it.
"You heard me, Dal. I said leave her alone."
For a second, it looks like Dally's gonna clock him. Johnny winces in anticipation of the blow, but it never comes. Dally stands up brusquely, shoves his hands viciously into his pockets, kicks in his seat, and storms away.