"But how do you get on the horse?" I asked Soda the next day when we were very close to a horse. It was an old, gentle horse according to Soda, but I was still afraid of it. He had told me that the guy who owned Mickey Mouse all those years ago now owned the entire stable and let Soda come and ride and care for the horses whenever he wanted.
I had seen Dally race horses and other people ride horses, but I had never even pet a horse. All I knew was that they were much bigger when you were standing so close to one.
"I'm gonna put you on there, Brookie," he said, and his hands were on my waist lifting me up. "Swing your leg over!" I was too scared to do anything other than what he asked me to and in a matter of seconds I was sitting in the saddle. I was scared out of my mind once I looked down and realized how high up I was.
"I thought you said this would be fun!" I said, holding tight to the edges of the saddle because Soda had already told me not to touch the reins unless I wanted to make the horse go.
"Well, hold your horses!" Soda said, and then took time to laugh at his own joke while I rolled my eyes. He moved with the grace of someone who rode horses every day, easily swinging one leg over the saddle and getting his feet into the stirrups so that he was sitting directly behind me.
"Just keep a hold of the saddle horn there," he said, reaching around me to take the reins and planting a kiss on my cheek, "and I'll do all the work."
It was an almost cold day for late spring, with heavy clouds in the sky and a cool breeze, but I was perfectly warm with my back pressed against Soda's chest. There was enough of a height difference between us that our heads didn't collide. In fact, if I leaned back enough, I could tuck my head just under Sodapop's.
Having Soda so close did not entirely make the whole riding a horse thing less scary. He kept doing things like dropping one of the reins to point something out to me. It made me nervous everytime, and Soda being Soda, he picked up on it. He let go of the reins with one hand and slipped it around my waist, pulling me into him.
"You gotta relax, Brookie," he said, his lips against my hair. "I'm not goin' to let you get hurt. Give me your hands."
One at a time he took my hands into his and put them on the reins with his on top of mine. I didn't feel as steady as I did holding onto the saddlehorn, but it was kind of cool to feel the horse through the reins. Ever time I did slip or slide too far left or right, Soda's arms were there to keep me in.
"You wanna see something fun?" He asked but before I could answer I felt the horse pick up speed. I knew enough from having watched Dally ride that Soda must have dug his heels into the horse's side to make him go faster.
"Soda!" But he just laughed and wrapped one arm around me again, crushing my back against his chest. I didn't have stirrups to brace my feet again so I was bouncing more than he was even with him holding me in place. Even though I was kind of scared, I laughed, too. It felt like flying. I could see why Soda, always so restless, would love it.
Riding with Sodapop was new and scary but fun. The rest of the week proved to be interesting to say the least. I got suspended from school for a full week the following Monday.
The day started off like it should have. Soda walked me to school before walking to work. I talked to Steve and Evie, Karen and Curly, and even Angela who had decided that she would 'make her appearance at school for the week.' How she hadn't flunked out yet I had no idea. She missed more school days than anyone I knew. Maybe if Angela hadn't come to school that day, I never would have been suspended. But who knows. Things are supposed to happen for a reason.
"Have you seen Sylvia lately?" Angela had whispered to me. When she bent over to whisper to me in the loud hallway, her short skirt bunched up and I quickly pulled it down. Angela rolled her eyes, but she smiled too, and motioned for me to come closer to her.
"No! That's a dumb question," I said, rolling my eyes. Angela tossed her hair back over her shoulder, hitting Curly in the face with it in the process.
"Thanks, Ange. Just what I wanted, a mouth full of your stupid hairspray." Angela turned around and socked him in the arm, telling him that as tough as a hood as he thought himself to be, she could still whip her baby brother.
"Anyway, before Curly so rudely interrupted! Sylvia has been sayin' that the reason Dally pulled that gun on the fuzz was 'cause he and Johnny was queer for each other." I laughed, because that was absolutely ridiculous. I kind of wanted to tell Ponyboy, because I knew he would get a kick out of it, too. Johnny may have been too shy to ever really talk to girls, but Dally had blown through greaser girls like it was nothing.
I didn't tell Ponyboy though, because we were at school and he was honestly still a little testy at times. His parents' deaths and then Dally's and Johnny's had come so hard and fast. I didn't blame him. If I had lost my mother and Dally so close together, I don't think I would have handled it nearly as well as Ponyboy was.
So I kept it to myself and went to class, and most of the day was normal and okay. Until lunch, which me, Evie, and Karen usually ate at school. Not in the cafeteria, which was run by Socs, but outside at the picnic table. Angela joined us that day, since it was her weekly appearance at school and all. I was walking with Angela back inside to put our trays up when we walked past Sylvia's table.
"Oh, Brooklyn," she said in the same fake, sugar sweet way she talked to me while she was dating Dally. She always talked to me like I was stupid in the head.
"What do you want, Sylvia?" I asked, shifting my tray so I could stand with my hand on my hip. She stay sitting, so she tilted her head back to look at me and smiled in the most sickly way I'd ever since.
"I was just wonderin', what is it like to know everyone thinks your brother was a faggot?" She smiled as prettily as she could, waiting for an answer from me. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how mad I had been since Dally's death. Mad that he couldn't just think things through and be sensible for once. Mad that he carried our mother's death like he was the only one it effected, like it gave him a right to throw his life away time and again in different ways until he threw it away for real on the wrong end of a cop's gun.
But Dally wasn't there for me to be mad at, so I took it out on Sylvia instead. I picked my milk carton up off my tray and gave it a good fling. The front of Sylvia's blouse soaked through in seconds, and her ample cleavage decreased just as quickly. She was no longer smiling at me, she was staring down at her clothes, he hands up beside her in shock.
"If my brother was so queer, how'd he know you stuff your bra, you dumb broad?" Angela dissolved in a fit of laughter as soon as the words left my mouth, but Sylvia looked as if she'd like to slap me. Maybe she would have, but as Angela laughed and Sylvia's face turned redder and redder I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Miss Winston. Miss Shepard. To my office." I rolled my eyes before before turning around.
"Angela didn't do anythin', Mr. Burns. Please don't punish her, too." I was hoping that he would let her slide and he did, nodding and motioning for me to follow him. I gave my tray to Angela and hurried to catch up.
"I am very surprised, Miss Winston. You have been doing so well." I knew he was talking about my grades. I never really skipped school, but I also never really tried either until recently. I didn't say anything, but I heard Dally's warning again. Get tough. Nothing can touch you. Not Sylvia, not Mr. Burns, nothing in this situation.
When we got to his office, he motioned for me to sit in one of the lumpy chairs in front of his desk.
"You understand I'll have to suspend you," he said, and even though I was supposed to be tough, this surprised me. I tried not to let it show, to stay quiet and uncaring like Dally would have.
"Brooklyn," he said, and I wasn't sure if he was supposed to use first names, "please don't pull this act. I know this is a rough time. Really, I should have sent yourself and Mr. Curtis to grief counselling considering recent events and both of your past histories with losing parents, but I didn't. I didn't think either of you would take it well, and until today I have felt very good about that decision. Both of you have been improving leaps and bounds."
He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Look, Brooklyn, I know that this probably wasn't unauthorized and if Miss Shepard will vouch for you, I'm sure I can give Miss Brown some detention. But what you did can be classified as a sexual assault and I'll have to suspend you for a full week."
Mr. Burns took a notepad out of his desk drawer and scribbled out a note addressed to 'Mr. Winston'. I still didn't say anything, but I also stopped staring blankly. I looked down at the floor instead.
"Miss Winston, I'll need your father to sign this. If you can behave for the last three weeks of school following your suspension, I won't refer you to grief counselling. Bring this back with you next Monday. I'll be sending your homework home with Mr. Curtis each day."
"Um, my father works a lot and he's gone a lot. He's a truck driver. I reckon you already know that, but, um, if he isn't able to come home in this week could my aunt sign this? She's stayin' with us for awhile." Mr. Burns put his hand out and I gave him the note back.
"What is your aunt's name?" he asked.
"Dolly Sinclair. I mean Rodriguez, 'cause she got married. But she's stayin' with us 'cause her husband had to go back to Spain. Um, my family's weird. I know it sounds like I'm bluffin' but I'm not. You can call her if you want." I rambled the more confused Mr. Burns looked.
"No, that's okay. Mrs. Rodriquez can sign your note if necessary. You will not be able to come on school grounds for a week, so it would be best if you gathered any things you may need from your locker and leave immediately."
I took my note and all my books from my locker for homework. Mr. Burns said he wasn't going to call and I didn't want to go home yet, so I headed to the cemetery instead. I decided to have a smoke with my brother. I hadn't had one in a while, so the pack in my bag was almost completely full.
I sat down beside his grave. Never on it. I didn't like that. The beer bottle I had left there before was gone. Trust Tulsa to have the kind of residents who would steal from the dead. I pulled my knees up and rested my elbow on one of them, trying to keep my ashes from falling on either Dally's grave or whoever was buried beside him.
Just sitting for awhile, I thought about Dally. About how instantly made he was after Momma died. How he started getting in trouble in school and eventually fights and gangs and jail. All at the age of ten. Dally was the reason Dad decided to move us to Oklahoma, thinking it would be better here for us. But the Tulsa my dad grew up in was not the Tulsa Dally and I ended up growing up in.
Dally was mad and bad enough for the both of us, so I spent my time trying my best to be good.
"Oh, Dallas," I said, patting the ground where I imagined his hand might be. "You were such a fool." I left him the rest of my cigarettes and then stood up to look at the graves on either side of his. One said 'Ava Winchester' and the other 'Luke Woods'. Ava Winchester had been elderly but Luke Woods was just a kid. There were wildflowers growing in patches all over the cemetery, so I picked three bouquets worth: One for Dallas, one for Ava, and one for Luke.
A/N: I have nothing against homosexuality and I am all for gay marriage rights, but for the time period this story is set in, such actions would be shameful/embarrassing/unwanted. Please understand that this was for the purpose of the story being accurate historically, not personal views.