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. Have another light chapter, you deserve it for slogging through the angst and sadness.
When we stopped for gas, Dal shook me awake. "Hey, get out and stretch your legs, kid. I'm buying, if you want anything." I exited the car on wobbly legs, wincing as pins and needles raced up to my thighs. After a quick pit stop, I looked around for anything that caught my interest. There wasn't much; mainly junk food, booze, cigarettes, and pulp magazines that were six months old. I picked out a couple Dublin Dr Peppers, some smokes, and eight different types of candy. Laying them all on the counter, I waited while Dallas finished with the gas and came in to pay. "Are you eighteen?" the clerk eyed him suspiciously.
"Here's my ID." Dal shoved his wallet across the counter, the card within giving his age as twenty-one. I knew it was a fake, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't feel like getting walloped today.
"What're y'all up to this early in the morning?" This clerk would've made a great inquisitor.
"My brother and I are fixin' to head out Windrixville's way. We've got some cousins down there." He bluffed, sounding as corn-poney as possible.
"Mmm. Have a nice time, then. You want a bag for all this?"
The car was warm as we got back in, and Dal peeled out, cussing that clerk till the station was well out of sight. "I can't believe he bought it! That fuckin' idiot actually thought we were related. Glory, if that ain't the funniest thing I've heard all week, I dunno what is." He would still laugh periodically, smirking as he remembered our ruse.
"How long till we get there, Dal?"
"It'll be a couple more hours yet. Hand me those M&Ms, would you? I'm starving."
"There's a Dairy Queen there, I think." I'd lit up, and cracked the window so the smoke wouldn't cloud up everything.
"Let's hope it's still in business after forty-some years."
"Why're you so interested in Windrixville? I thought you hated reading and stuff."
"I dunno, I guess somethin' about that book just grabbed me, you know? I couldn't get it outta my head. That sounds pretty fuckin' mental, huh?"
"Not really. Books do that to me all the time. I just don't read real fast, you know? I like it, though. My dad's a good reader."
"Does he still read you bedtime stories?"
"No, but he'll read the paper to me sometimes. There's some funny stuff that makes the news."
"Like what?"
"Once, there was a guy who was in a motel overnight, and he fell asleep smoking. Well, it wasn't an hour later, when he found that the couch was on fire, so he dragged it outside the motel and the firemen were able to put it out, no sweat."
"Was that here?"
"Yeah. It made the paper recently, and Dad and I about died laughing." I grinned at Dallas, who was having a hard time keeping his laughter at bay.
"Sounds like somethin' my old man woulda done, if he'd ever get sober long enough."
"What's he like?"
"Like all those stray cats at our place- mean, ornery, and generally no good unless he's fed or sleeping."
"I'm sorry."
"What's there to be sorry for, kid? He's my old man, not yours."
"I know, I just feel bad. My biological dad was like that."
"You remember those folks at all?"
"They're the reason I can't abide closets, the dark, or loud noises. They were shot by their dealers when I was four. I heard everything."
"Why did you live?"
"I almost didn't. My momma had locked me in a broom closet for a couple days, and when the police found me, I was in a real bad way." I squeezed the side of the jacket where Buttons was, then took him out. "This was all I had from them. I don't remember where I got it, but I think it was from one of the times she'd tried to sell me."
"I'm sorry, kid. I didn't know you'd had it rough too."
"It's fine now, I just have nightmares sometimes." I don't know why I was spilling my guts to him, but I did, and I held Buttons on my lap the rest of the way to Windrixville.
We hit Windrixville at about 8 AM, but we had to wait for a couple hours because nothing opened until 10. "Some town. I bet the worst they've ever had to worry about are runaway cows and tornadoes." Dal observed wryly.
"That's probably the most excitement they see in a year."
"Wanna see Jay Mountain before we eat? I think it's gonna be a while."
"Yeah, let's go." I agreed, shivering.
After getting directions from a local farmer, we were eventually headed the right way. Jay Mountain wasn't really a mountain, as it turned out. It was more like a big hill, but the path was real steep. We climbed to the top, but it took us a good forty-five to fifty minutes before we reached what remained of the church there. Only the floor and foundation were visible, weathered by four decades of neglect, but we looked around anyway. I found the old pump, tried it, and nothing came out. Maybe the well had dried up. We sat on a corner of the stone floor smoking, each of us lost in thought. I was thinking about my dad and his buddy Johnny. They must've felt so isolated up here, all by their lonesome and waiting for a rescue or cop car.
"It's nice here." Dallas's soft voice broke into my thoughts, startling me.
"Yeah, it's real pretty." I watched the frost glitter like spilled gems in the field below, sparkling in the weak winter sunlight. "Did you ever wanna put yourself in their shoes, like feel how they felt waitin' for a whole week? I bet they were scared outta their minds."
"Yeah, at first, but then you get bored waitin' around." He turned to face me. "Man, I wish this place was still standing, that way we could come here whenever we felt like it."
"'We'? You mean, you'd actually want me around?" I was shocked. I never thought someone like Dal would be caught dead with me, much less have a desire to stick around.
"Yeah, you dig okay, kid. I like that. You're the first kid who hasn't been scared of me."
"I was a little scared at first. I mean, I heard all the stories, and-"
"Most of those have been on the grapevine a little too long. They tend to grow bigger and badder with each person, you dig? I ain't that mean, but I like havin' those stories around so people don't mess with me." He came over to my corner and sat down, putting his arm around me. "They won't mess with you either, once it gets around that you're tagging along. Everybody and their mom's afraid of mean ol' Dallas."
"Does it get lonely?"
"What?"
"Bein' so tough all the time; does it get lonely? 'Cuz I get lonely sometimes." I looked down at my shoes, hoping I hadn't said something too strange. He thought for a long time.
"Yeah, it does get lonely, but I got you now, kid. We ain't gonna be lonely no more." He squeezed my shoulder and glanced at his watch. "I guess we should get somethin' to eat. Dairy Queen's open."