A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This Johnny (Johnny 2.0) is my own creation (along with Mikey, Dave, Shane, Pat, & Neil), though he was unashamedly inspired by Ms. Hinton's Johnny. And the heaviness continues. When will it end? I have no clue.
The next time we went over to Uncle Darry's house was for Pat's and Uncle Soda's birthday. Just like the first time. I thought, steeling my nerves for the inevitable insanity that would ensue as soon as we stepped through that door. "Is their house ever quiet?" I asked, grabbing one of the presents from Dad's arms.
"Nope. It never has been, except for that time when I was sick before the trial. That's the only time I ever remember it being completely silent in the house."
"Would you ever move back?"
"I can't say that I haven't thought about it. It'd be crowded, though, with everyone there."
"That's okay. I don't like living at our place much."
"Neither do I, bud." Dad herded me into the living room, where I sat down after putting the gift on the coffee table.
"Hey, they're finally here! That means it's cake time, guys." Two-Bit hollered, making me and Uncle Soda flinch. "Oh, sorry, Soda. I didn't see you there."
"That's okay, Captain. I think you scared Pvt. Johnnycake here more than you did me." He winked at me, handing me a thickly folded piece of paper.
"Sorry, Private. I forgot you were jumpy too."
"That's all right, Cap. I can take being scared once in a while. That's why I'm here."
"Yeah, we're all pretty freaky, huh. Mikey, why don't you sit next to Johnny? I'm sure he'd like it."
"I don't think so." One look from Uncle Darry changed his mind, but it didn't change his tune. I offered him a weak smile, just to see what he'd do. He glared at me, so I slid closer to Uncle Soda.
"Hey, open the paper." Uncle Soda prodded my arm. I unfolded it to find it blank. Taking out a pen, I wrote a message: Sorry for seeming like such a jerk. Can you forgive me? Is something wrong? You look sad. And handed it to Mikey. He tilted his head to size me up, then took the pen: That's the first thing you've actually said to me. I just miss my bro. He called yesterday, but I guess he isn't getting out anytime soon. He passed me the pen.
Can y'all go visit him? I know the feeling; I miss my mom.
No, he's locked up tight. They won't even let my dad see him. I miss Aunt Cathy too. She was really nice. Sorry about last week, I was just mad because you got all the attention. D'you want cake?
Yeah, I do. He smiled at me and I thought I'd made a friend.
We went off to his bedroom as soon as all the presents had been opened, and I learned that he shared one with both of his brothers. "Shane used to have that bed, but of course he doesn't sleep there now. Come here for a sec, I wanna show you something." He dug around beneath his bed, sneezing a couple times from all the dust. "Remember that turtle I used to have?"
"Yeah." I didn't want to think of that poor turtle.
"Well, I kept a few pictures of it. Want one?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Maybe this was all a joke. Making friends with Mikey had been too easy.
"I guess I just wanted to make it up to you. I thought you were a spoiled jackass till you sent me that note. I didn't think you cared about us at all."
"Really?" A red flag was up now, there was no way this was genuine.
"Yeah. We all think you're stuck up 'cuz you don't talk to us at all. Pat said he's tried getting you to do stuff with him, Dave, and Neil, but you never go along with it." The 'stuff' they'd wanted me to do usually involved something dangerous, disgusting, dumb, or all three. There was no way they'd get me to eat fire ants or peek into a rattlesnake nest, unless they held me down like they'd done for the scorpion incident.
"Well, my dad's pretty strict. I can't just run off all the time, you know?" A tremor crept into my voice, and I coughed to cover it up. Something in his gaze told me I should leave fast. I slowly moved toward the door, turning to open it.
"Where d'you think you're going, Johnny?" The soft snick of a switchblade behind me stopped me dead. "I still wanna get to know you; aren't we having fun?" I started as the cold steel blade was pressed gently against my carotid artery. "I wouldn't make another move if I were you. There sure is a lot of blood in people."
"Mikey, don't, please? It's Pat's and Uncle Soda's birthday, and I wouldn't wanna take all the attention away from them." My ploy didn't work, his breath was hot and even on my neck.
"Oh, you won't. Not if you know what's good for you, anyway. Sit down next to me."
I did as he commanded, hoping that he couldn't tell I was trembling. I felt my own switch in my jacket pocket, but I couldn't get to it. He'd see if I made any movement at all. "You don't belong here, Johnny." Mikey remarked. There was almost a hint of tenderness in his voice, but I knew he was trying to get my guard down. "You weren't supposed to be adopted; you weren't even supposed to exist in the first place, were you? I know all about it. Shane and Pat told me how your parents were druggies, and how they died. I bet you wish you could've too, Johnny. Maybe if they'd seen you, the dealers would've killed you too. It would've been worth it." His soliloquy was broken by a tap on the door.
"Hey, why don't y'all come out and socialize with us for a bit? You've been in there an awful long time." I couldn't tell whose voice it was, but I had a feeling it might've been Steve. Now was my chance. I gave a long low whistle, but even before I'd gotten the high note out, he'd opened the door. "What's goin' on in here, Mikey?" he demanded, as I sneaked out from behind him. Mikey's eyes burned into my back as I left, and I quickly sat between Uncle Soda and my dad, clutching my switch in a quivering death grip.