A Different Outsider

Part 1: The Tulsa Project

Chapter 4

Two weeks later…

To call the previous two weeks "complicated" would be an understatement. And, for much of its duration, Dally had been in an annoyed, irritated mood.

It had started when Darry had gotten a call from the hospital. Something about how there was a record of Johnny being officially released, and then there wasn't. And then, to add to all the confusion, there was a report given by a startled nurse.

When Dally arrived some five minutes after Darry and the two younger boys did, the frustration was already high for everyone. The nurse at the front desk wanted answers as to why one of Johnny's parents hadn't picked up the phone when they called to get information, and once a half-tailed answer had been given, someone had to go and call a social worker.

Dally could tell that part made Darry nervous. Things were going fine at home, with the exception of Ponyboy's running away. There was still always that chance that Soda and Pony could get taken away and put in a boys' home. And now there was the prospect that Johnny might be too, and that had Dally concerned.

Two hours later, Darry and Dally still sat in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for the social worker to arrive. Darry had Sodapop take Ponyboy home- it still was a school night after all. As for Johnny: he had been readmitted. There had been a complication with the x-ray and the written diagnosis of his condition, and they wanted to do another check to make sure things added up.

"They wouldn't assign me as his guardian, would they?" Dally asked suddenly.

"Hm?" Darry had been zoned out, with his eyes closed and two fingers rubbing the bridge of is nose.

"Johnny's gonna probably need a guardian so he won't be sent to a boys' home. I was sayin' they probably wouldn't let me be one."

Darry paused, looking for the right words, looking for the opposite of what Dally knew was the truth.

"You're seventeen. Technically you're still a minor. They can't give a minor custody of anybody."

Dally shook his head, laughing humorlessly. He stuck his hand in his jacket's pocket, feeling for the pack of cigarettes inside. "Nah. We all know the reason they wouldn't let me is 'cause I'm a hood, a criminal." He laughed again.

"You've still got a few months 'til you're eighteen. Maybe if you keep your slate clean 'til then, things could change."

Dally shook his head. Even if he could do just that, his list of crimes was too long for any court of law to overlook. But still, Darry's words gave him reassurance, some that he hadn't even realized he needed.

He only knew one person who'd been like that, and that was Mrs. Curtis. It almost pained him of how alike she and Darry were.

A signature.

One single signature from either of Johnny's parents was all it took to give Darry temporary custody. Two signatures were usually required, but the social worker agreed that with Johnny's situation perhaps the judge would be swayed.

Darry had been confused as to how they could even get one signature, let alone two. Johnny's mother would usually be the most approachable of his parents, if that was a word that could be used to describe her, even on her "good" days. But, from the scene that had taken place the last time Johnny was in the hospital, she obviously wasn't their best bet.

At first, Dallas suggested that maybe he should just forge the signature. But, that didn't exactly go along the lines of his plan to straighten up and stay out of trouble. They'd have to go with Plan B, or rather Person B.

And Dally knew exactly how to get the signature out of him…

It was nearly midnight when he arrived where he needed to be. The one story building's lights were out, but Dally knew the residents were home. Someone must have forgotten to pay the light bill.

Lazy morons, he thought. He could care less if this was Johnny's parents he was talking about; it was true.

When Dally approached the front door, he wasn't surprised to find it unlocked. He let himself inside, striding his way to the kitchen and lighting a cigarette.

In the darkness, he could make out a form at a battered Formica table. They sat hunched over, elbows resting on the table, and surrounded by numerous beer cans.

So he's drunk, he thought. Just makes my job easier.

"Who's there?" Mr. Cade's voice came out slow and slurred, which confirmed Dally's original thoughts.

"What's it to ya?" Dally circled the table and blew out a few rings of smoke.

"How'd you…get in 'ere?"

"You left the frikkin' door unlocked; how'd you think?"

"I can…I can 'ave you-" the man let out small belch and continued, "-'rrested for this. Breakin' and enterin' my home."

Dally stopped circling to smack his fist down on the table. "Oh yeah? Well I can have you and your no-good wife arrested for child abuse and negligence."

Johnny's father laughed harshly before breaking into a cough. "Y'all can't 'rrest me. If that boy ain't dead already then he's as good as gone. Any mark I put on 'im was burned away by that damn fire he had to go and run himself into."

Dally punched him square in the jaw, knocking Mr. Cade backwards and breaking the chair's wooden leg. He didn't even feel the pain in his knuckles as he punched him again, feeling only the anger coursing through his veins. He wanted to do it again. And again. And again. He wanted him to know how it felt to be hit while he was down, how it was to have the soreness and bruises to tend to the next day. But he had to stop. This was about Johnny, not his own vengeance for him.

Dally yanked the man upright by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back to the table. He pulled the legal paper and a pen out of his jacket pocket and slammed them on the table.

Dally muttered low in his ear, "Listen here: you are goin' to sign this paper. Think of as the only good thing you do for Johnny in your life. After this, you will never have to give a damn about him again."

Mr. Cade worked his jaw, trying to regain feeling back in it, for a few moments. Then, he signed the paper. The signature was surprisingly neat for someone in such an intoxicated and beat up state.

Dally folded the paper back up, putting it and the pen back into his jacket. He was done here and couldn't bear to stay any longer. He began to walk out…

"Do y'all really think you can take care of that runt? Pay for 'im and his bills." Mr. Cade snorted. "You'll be begging a boys' home to take him," he called after Dally as he left the house.

Dallas didn't even bother closing the door behind him; it was taking all his strength not to turn back and give that man the beating of his life.

It had been a misdiagnosis. Something the hospital apologized over and over for and even dropped the cost of the procedure over.

It turned out what Johnny actually had were vertebral compression fractures, not a broken back. The procedure for it was something he had trouble pronouncing himself. What was it? Kyphoplasty. The doctor who had done the surgery was on "the move" since this was a fairly new and growingly needed technique. He'd stayed long enough to help perform his skin graft surgery, which had to be done after the Kyphoplasty procedure.

Technically, if Johnny had stayed in the hospital for another week after the rumble, he'd have been fine for a while now. But, going home prematurely caused problems, one being that his attempt at taking a shower had caused his skin grafts to get inflamed. Still, it was hard to blame a doctor who was gone, so the fault had been placed on the startled nurse, who "could have stopped him from running out."

Johnny sat on the newly made sheets of his hospital bed. The past two weeks had been long and boring. They hadn't let him get out of bed for the first week, and only this morning had they let him walk around and shower on his own. To say he was ready he was ready to go home would be an understatement.

Home.

It was something he hadn't thought about. He'd only been allowed to know small snippets of details, and he'd also had to talk to a social worker. But, from what he found out, the custody of himself had gone from his parents, "temporarily." Apparently, Dally had somehow gotten a signature that implemented this.

Johnny couldn't tell if the going to get the signature had gone wrong. It didn't seem to have gone "fine and dandy," as Dallas put it when he arrived during visiting hours the day after Johnny's readmission, with bruised knuckles and a hangover.

He'd had an irritated mood the whole time he was visiting and the nurses had to kick him out of the hospital when he vomited into a bedpan. Of course, the hangover went away, but his piss-y attitude didn't for the next two weeks.

Now, Johnny wasn't sure what mood Dallas would have when he came to pick him up that day.

When he finally arrived, Johnny decided it would be okay. His blue eyes were steady and his words weren't slurred- although it was hard to tell given that he was barely speaking.

"Here." Dally pulled something out of a plastic bag and handed it to Johnny.

Johnny glanced down at the container in his hand. Hair grease.

"The hospital wouldn't let us give it to you until you got out. Morons," Dally muttered.

"Uh, thanks."

Dally began walking around the room, picking up items and putting them into the empty plastic bag, all the while talking. "Ponyboy's at school right now and Two-Bit actually went with him today. Go figure."

Johnny nodded in response, staying out of the way as Dally packed up a balled up t-shirt and pilfered a plastic water cup. Johnny rolled his eyes at the pointlessness of taking it but didn't say anything…

The social worker came sometime after to check Johnny out of the hospital and to make sure his living arrangements were squared away. Dally had to take the place of Darry, as he was at work, and had to make sure Johnny got home safely. But, finally, they left the hospital, and were back in the lifestyle of Tulsa.

"You hungry?"

They had been walking for a while now and were close to where the West side met the East, at the train tracks. Dally had been swinging that plastic bag the whole time and Johnny was sure they would break any moment. But, again, he didn't open his mouth about it.

Remembering the question, Johnny shrugged. "I guess."

"'I guess'? You must be starvin' like a dog as much as that hospital food sucked. I know you couldn't've been eating that crap."

"I wasn't all that hungry at the time, anyways." Johnny looked at the graveled road not sure of what to add to that.

Dally stopped swinging the shopping bag and glanced at Johnny. The younger boy had never been much for words but his gaunt face answered Dally's question. But, at least food would fix that problem; he needed to do something about how he was scared and uncomfortable all the dang time.

"Well, I for one am in the mood for a burger. And since The Dingo is out of the question it looks like we'll have to head to The Red Rooster."

Johnny lifted his shoulders again. "Alright."

The rest of the walk to the restaurant didn't take all that long. But as the diner came into view it wasn't hard to tell that something was wrong.

When they finally reached The Red Rooster, Johnny noticed a small crowd gathered around the front. Standing on his toes, he peeked over the tops of the heads of the people. He could see a broken window, its shattered glass laying on the ground in front of the window.

"Wonder what happened," he muttered, mainly to Dally but partly to himself.

"D'know."

They stood there a bit longer, catching snippets of conversation from the people around them. Words like "drive by" and "brick" were repeated but it was hard to pick up on any clear explanation.

Suddenly, shouting from the inside could be heard. "Y'all move away from the dang window and come on in! Good Lord, y'all people don't know how to act."

Many of the people, being just nosy onlookers, moved away from The Red Rooster and went about their days. Once again the hole-in-the-wall was quiet and, for the most part, empty.

Dally began walking towards the door, and so Johnny followed him. Inside, a man was sweeping up glass, grumbling all the while, and a woman sat at the register, dozing off. A few customers sat scattered around the restaurant, but, since it was only a little past midday, there weren't a lot of people.

They found a table in the back and seated themselves across from one another. Not long after the waiter came and took their order, the man sweeping came and hovered by their table.

Dallas looked up at the man and rolled his eyes. "Can I help you, or are you gonna just breathe down the poor kid's neck?"

"Look, bub, I had some important information that may concern you. But since you wanna be smart I can just keep it to myself."

"C'mon, Dally. Apologize," Johnny whispered, curious of what the guy had to say.

The man had moved from behind Johnny's seat, and he could see him better now without having to twist his back too much. He had a sort of sleazy look to him with greasy, unwashed black hair and a beer belly that hung over the apron around his waist. He leaned into his broom, with one arm pressed into the long plastic handle. He looked less offended than he did smug as he watched Dally huff out a half-tailed apology.

"Now, what's this oh so 'important information'?"

The man shook his head and smirked. "Uh uh. I think I'll be needing a little persuasion after you done hurt my feelings." He raised his eyebrows and his smirk widened as he rubbed his thumb across the rest of his fingers.

"I ain't givin' you no money. I'm already eating here, ain't I? And it certainly looks like you need my business so I wouldn't get on my bad side."

The man shot a long, weary look at Dally. "Well, since I'm in such a generous mood today I'll tell ya anyway," he said grumbling once again. He pulled a folded up piece of paper from his apron's front pocket and slid it onto the table. "There was a drive-by. Some Socs who were probably skippin' school, I guess. They threw a brick through my window, and this note was attached.

"Says here, that they're looking for some kid named Johnny. I don't know which one of you it was from the other day, but if I were him I'd just lay low."

Johnny looked down at the table, his fingers twiddling with a napkin as he began to tear it up. His heart was in his stomach; with all the problems with his back he'd forgotten about the Socs. But now that they were back, there was no doubt in his mind about what they wanted him for.

Killing Bob.

(A/N): Finally! Chapter 3 and 4 are up! Hope they were good and not too confusing or rushed: took me forever to finish this chapter up with schoolwork and all. I hope your holidays are lovely and that you enjoy yourself if you have time off! Please review and Happy Holidays!

-DazzlinPinkLemonade