A Different Outsider

Part 1: The Tulsa Project

Chapter 3

Ponyboy really wished it wasn't Tuesday. He could've convinced himself that he could make through the end of the day if it was a Friday, maybe, or even a Thursday. But, lo and behold, as he lay there next to his brother with sunlight beginning to filter in through the blinds, it was only Tuesday morning.

On the bright side, he'd woken up better than he had yesterday. Darry hadn't come in the room to get him up yet- it was still early enough that Darry himself was probably getting ready- and Sodapop had fallen asleep beside his brother this time (there were no dirty socks in his face this morning). Ponyboy, to his own surprise, could actually have a few minutes to himself before the day started.

He got out of the bed, going to sit at his desk. Although he was able to avoid his brother's rather raunchy feet, he was still subject to Soda's open, snoring, (drooling) mouth. It was kind of hard to think when you had someone making noises in your ear.

He flipped through the notebook that sat on the surface of the table. He'd been working on it ever since he got home yesterday, before they'd gone out for supper. The other assigned make-up work he could do in a jiff- he hadn't been skipped a grade for nothing- but the theme required more thought and time. There was so much he could write about- his parents; when he lived in the country as a kid; Soda's old horse, Mickey Mouse- and yet he'd had nowhere to start. So, he chose the event that was freshest in his mind: when he and Johnny ran away.

Darry was right about his head always being up in the clouds: his mind was drifting even after he let it wander in the first place. There wasn't much he could add to his theme at the moment. He was through half the notebook anyway; surely he'd have it done by Friday. With the assignment out of his head for a second, Ponyboy started thinking about yesterday, and all that had happened at The Red Rooster.

The girl stuck out in his mind the most. Ponyboy felt bad for her, remembering how she had tried to hide behind her hand from the many looks people cast her way. He knew the feeling all too well.

Sitting there at the desk, he also wondered what Mr. Syme had to do with that girl. He thought back to Johnny's question, about how if one of the men were her dads or something. They couldn't have been though, he was sure of it. Something about their meeting in the back of the diner was formal. He wondered if this had anything to do with what he'd overheard Allan Cummings telling Mr. Syme the afternoon before…

"Ponyboy, are you gettin' ready?" Darry had his head poked through the doorway, the door half open. He was all dressed and ready for work, in his old blue button-up, worn jeans, and brown boots.

Ponyboy looked down at himself, where he sat only half dressed in his white undershirt, from the day before, and boxers. "No."

"Well, you better get to it. I'm leavin' in twenty minutes, if you want a ride."

It was rare that Darry offered to drive him to school. He was usually up and out of the house before it was light out, and when he wasn't he was always in too much in a hurry for Ponyboy's "dillydallying."

The question threw Pony off guard, but he was happy to accept. "Alright, I'll get goin'."

Darry nodded and shut the door behind him.

Ponyboy went to the drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing his nightshirt on the bed. It landed on Soda, who made a gurgling noise but stayed asleep. As hard as that boy slept, he wouldn't even wake up for a tornado.

Less than an hour later, Darry pulled up at the school. People were gathered all over the sidewalks and the front lawn, holding signs and yelling. The majority of the crowd were adults, all dressed nicely and formal- in the Soc sort of way. But, despite their clean looks, the rage was clear on their faces.

"What in the world…" Darry muttered, driving slowly as to avoid a collision with the pedestrians spilling out onto the road, on their way to the curb. Just as he began to pick up enough speed to make it the rest of the way to the drop-off area, a Soc woman ran into the street, narrowly missing being hit by the station wagon's front bumper.

She turned to glare at them, and, most likely catching sight of Ponyboy's greased hair, yelled, "Watch it, hoods!"

Darry lifted his hand into a wave, apologetically. "Did another greaser-Soc fight happen or something?" he asked, motioning his head toward the small, angry mob.

"No," Pony replied. He paused to think about it. "Actually I think it might have something to do with that integration thing. It was on TV the other night."

"Oh yeah, that's right." Darry pulled the car to a stop. "Well, just keep your nose clean, kid."

Ponyboy silently nodded his head, which went unseen by his older brother. As he stepped out of the car, Darry pulled him back. "Seriously, Pone, stay outta trouble."

"Alright, Darry. I said alright." He pulled his arm out of his grasp, doing all he could not to roll his eyes.

Darry watched him leave, wearily, hoping that his youngest brother meant what he said…

Ponyboy kept his head down as he walked down the sidewalk, to the front entrance of the school. Socs were gathered on either side of the concrete, on the grass, the anger plastered on their faces even more animated up close. There were no greasers in the crowd, he noticed; he figured they had worse things to worry about than the possibility of the black population being able to attend their schools.

"Hey, grease!"

The harsh voice startled Pony out of his thoughts. He looked up to see it belonged to a jock- looking Soc in a letterman jacket. "You must be happy that heat's off of you and your kind, eh?" He grinned then, showing his crooked front tooth. His smile was just about as nasty as his voice.

Ponyboy stared back blankly, not really knowing what to make of what the boy just said.

"Don't you worry, greaser. Soon this integration bull will be over and the attention will be right back on you."

Ponyboy started walking again, ignoring the boy as he let out a burst of laughter. He probably shouldn't have stopped to listen in the first place, but of course, he never used his head.

Not being enrolled in school yet made life in the apartment pretty slow for Rebecca. Not boring exactly, with all that was going on after moving to Tulsa and all, but things were definitely sluggish.

She started her day early, at school-waking hours, as her mother would have called them. She went on to call her aunt at the number she left for Becky to reach her at in Abilene. It was more of a formality, though; the last thing she wanted to do was to listen to Aunt Ruth ask her questions she couldn't answer in full. But, if she put off calling her any longer, that would just lead to more questions: Where have you been? What have you been up to? Has your mother been around?

Lucky for her, Aunt Ruth hadn't been able to come to the phone.

Becky spent most of the morning after that setting up the apartment. She'd washed the silverware and tableware, given to her by Mrs. Harris that morning as she'd been on her way out to drop Penny off at school and to go to work.

Penny attended Booker T. Washington High School, not far from where they lived. Of course the question of whether or not Becky would be going there, or another school maybe, came up. Becky avoided staying on the topic for too long, telling Mrs. Harris that she was just waiting for the official papers and such to process.

This fact, much to her relief, was something Becky did not have to lie about.

Now, it was only eleven-thirty and she had run out of things to do. She dwelled on accepting the open invitation Mrs. Carter had extended to her, letting her come over if she pleased while she remained out of school.

And, as the feeling of something between boredom and drowsiness fell upon her, Becky decided she just might take Mrs. Carter up on her offer…

Mrs. Carter had the twelve-o'clock news on when Becky was let into the apartment. It'd taken her a half hour to convince herself to go down to the first floor and visit the older woman. After the polite, almost formal greetings, they both took seats near the television set, Mrs. Carter in a soft-looking, weathered armchair and Becky in a foldable wicker chair.

"…And there seems to be some protests today at Will Rogers High," Joe Reaves, the noon news anchor, stated. Mrs. Carter leaned forward and turned the volume knob, making the TV grow louder. "The high school seems to be wasting no time in addressing the issue recognized by the Supreme Court. We were declined a response by the school's administrators when asked for questioning on this impending integration…"

Mrs. Carter sat back in her chair. "Hmph," she said quietly, musing it seemed.

Becky chewed her lip, trying to look concerned as well. It didn't really faze her, though; she knew about situations like this from reading. Back in Louisiana, her mother had made her look at old newspapers on Ruby Bridges, and other cases like it. Preparation, she called it.

"It's, uh, amazing how some white folks are gettin' upset."

Mrs. Carter hmphed again, the sound coming through her nostrils, almost like she was snorting. Tell me something I don't know, it seemed to say.

"If only they knew how the girl on the other side must be feeling."

The old woman furrowed her eyebrows. "Girl?"

Becky hadn't realized she said that exact word aloud and suddenly panic ran through her.

"Hasn't the news said something about the black student being, um, female?"

Mrs. Carter's eyes were unwavering as she focused on Rebecca. "No, I don't believe they have, hun."

"Oh, well, I was just thinking about Ruby Bridges. I was reading an old article the other day and, um, I must've gotten the cases confused."

"You know a lot about these integration cases?"

"I- I guess."

"Well, then why don't you tell me what you know. Everything."

Johnny could tell Ponyboy had had a rough day. He burst through the front, the screen door loudly slamming shut behind him, muttering something under his breath as he came storming through the hall. He heard a thud from where he stood in the bathroom; Pony must have dumped his book bag on the floor.

"Crappy day?" Johnny called out.

"You could say that," he heard his friend grumble as he passed the bathroom on the way to the kitchen.

Johnny paused to listen the thumping noises of cupboards and the fridge door opening before turning to look at himself in the mirror. He wasn't looking too hot lately, whatever miracle that had quickly healed him seemingly fading off. Taking beatings at home had taught him to take care of wounds, but the ones he had on his body were like nothing he ever dealt with.

He'd gotten Two-Bit to go to the drug store for him sometime last week, when they hadn't been celebrating. Now, Johnny carefully unwrapped the layers of brown and white gauze Two-Bit had "retrieved" from around his neck, revealing the red, splotchy skin underneath.

He didn't know what they had done to him in the hospital, but the severely burned skin on his hands and shoulders looked like this too. He'd gone to take a shower the other day, and that didn't go too well: the burned areas had gotten redder and burned like crazy. He hadn't told anybody yet, though the gang seemed to be able to tell that he was in some sort of discomfort. Johnny didn't notice the pain as much anymore, though, mostly spending his day sleeping or popping aspirin, sometimes willing himself to eat.

Johnny hoisted himself onto the sink to reach the medicine cabinet high up on the side of the wall. Right as his hand reached the door, pain shot up his lower back and he had to drop his weight back onto the floor. He stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the counter for a moment, waiting for it to return.

"You alright?"

Ponyboy stuck his head through the doorway, looking less irritated than before, holding a bowl of cereal in his hands.

"Yeah…I'mma….I'm alrigh'," he replied between labored breaths.

Ponyboy lingered for another moment, glancing at the gauze hanging from Johnny's neck and the swinging cabinet door.

"Ya need that?" he asked, using his eyes to point at the roll of bandages on the shelf.

Johnny could only nod in answer.

Ponyboy reached up, standing on the balls of his feet, and picked up the gauze, all the while eyeing Johnny warily.

Johnny took the gauze from his hands and began to replace the bandages around his neck. He didn't try to shield the healing burns from him, but still quickly rewrapped his injuries. He didn't even think to remember Ponyboy's squeamishness, or the fact that he was eating a bowl of cereal, until the kid almost busted his head open trying to scramble out the door.

"Sorry," Johnny mumbled, ten minutes later when he left the bathroom.

His right hand had started bleeding under the wrappings and he had to take more time to apply pressure and stop the slight flow. Nothing he wasn't used to, though.

Ponyboy nodded in acceptance to the apology as Johnny came to sit next to him on the couch.

"You ever think about going back?"

"To the hospital?"

"Yeah."

Johnny shrugged and sat back. "They let me go for a reason, don't ya think?"

"I guess."

They fell into a silence, only the sound of the television breaking through. At some point, Ponyboy dragged his backpack over and began to do his homework. It seemed to be a lot to Johnny but he watched as his friend went from subject to subject quickly before settling on writing in a composition notebook. Pony was so into his work, Johnny decided not ask what exactly he was writing.

Johnny had no idea what he was going to do when he would be allowed to go to school again. He was nowhere as smart as Ponyboy. By some miracle, he was in the 11th grade, with Two-Bit. Even though he'd skipped a lot while he attended school, somehow he managed to be promoted at the end of each year with C's and the occasional B-. He'd have to get on top of his schoolwork when he returned. If he went back…

The phone rang suddenly. Ponyboy's head jerked up but Johnny got up before he could. Even at his slow pace, Johnny reached the phone, halfway across the room, before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?" he answered, not quite breathlessly.

A minute later he hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" Ponyboy asked, putting his pencil down and closing his notebook.

Johnny shook his head. "Darry. Said he was gonna pick us up as soon he got home."

"Why? Where are we goin'? It's a 'school night'," Ponyboy mimicked in Darry's voice.

"To the hospital. They've been looking for me."

(A/N): Ok, so this was a little shorter than usual because I felt this was a good place to stop. But, guess what? There's another chapter already posted! Hopefully this wasn't too "all over the place" or had too much information to take in. I'm kind of focusing on Johnny right now, trying to clear up his situation to be as realistic as possible. The next chapter should have some more answers.

Also, please feel free to reach out to me if any of the content makes you uncomfortable, for example the use of the n-word. I know how it feels to have that word used against me, and I am trying to limit its use in this story.

But anyway, please read on and review and thanks so much for the comments and criticism!

DazzlinPinkLemonade