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. I'm spoiling you guys with yet another light chapter. I hope you like it!
After we'd gotten our food, we stayed in the parking lot and divided everything up. We put about four barbecue sandwiches in a cooler in the back, and each ate two for breakfast. "You've got it all over your face, kid."
"So d'you, Dal." I blushed a little, running my sleeve across my mouth.
"Did you think they'd still be churning out burgers here after so long?"
"No, I thought they'd've grown a little, though. This must've been exactly what my dad saw."
"How'd he get that book written about him, anyway? Is that a writer's name he uses, or somethin'?" He asked, around a bite of sandwich.
"Nah, the author's actually a real sweet lady, and Dad gave her his essay to use for that book. He ran off a ditto for her, and I have the original now." I took a bite too, looking out the window as kids wandered the street, finally free from school. "What're we thinkin' of doin' later on?"
"I saw a motel a few clicks back. I thought we might stay there for the night, then go home tomorrow. I ain't too keen on drivin' any longer than I have to today. I wanna kick back and take it easy."
"Sounds good. Thanks for haulin' me along, Dal. I'd never have got to see this place otherwise."
"No problem, kid. You're a nice travel partner; I like hearing you talk. You come up with the most interesting stuff I've ever heard, and you sure do talk a whole lot for bein' a quiet kid. Keeps me entertained."
The motel looked as seedy as the run down movie theater back home. The décor was a strange mix of mid-century modern, art deco, wood paneling, and lodge furniture that probably hadn't seen a duster or vacuum in fifty years. It smelled like old cigarettes, dust, mold, and wet dog, but I couldn't see a dog anywhere. There was no one around, so Dal rang the bell, which echoed through the long entryway, and still nobody answered. "That's weird. Hey, do y'all make a point of having lousy customer service, or somethin'?" Dal hollered, though I knew no answer would come. I'd been idly flipping through the guest book, looking for the most current date. "Hey, Dal? C'mere for a sec."
"What's up, Buttercup?" He leaned on my shoulder, peering at the book.
"Look, this book hasn't been signed since the seventies. I think this place is abandoned."
"You might be right, but let's go check it out anyway, shall we? Grab a room key."
We wandered through the shadowy hallway, careful not to step on any weak flooring or breathe too deep. Black mold painted the walls, ceiling, and carpet, rendering it mushy beneath our feet. There was no sound, except our shoes squishing, as we crept through the darkness to the room I'd scavenged the key for. "Here it is, room twenty-two. Hand me the key and stand back, I dunno what's in there." Dallas said, pushing me back towards the wall. He worked the key into the lock with a little difficulty, but once he'd opened the door, I peeked beneath his arm to get a better look. The room didn't look half bad, considering how long this place had been neglected. There was a full bed in the middle of the room, and the blankets were thin and faded- their once cheerful colors long gone, the carpet was mushy still, but it was constantly humid outside, so that didn't surprise us, and there was a small bathroom with all the fixtures still intact. "No copper thieves? That's a nice change. I'm gonna go get those blankets from the back, you stay here, kid. Make yourself comfortable." Dal left me standing silently in the middle of the room, wishing I had a phone to call home. I missed everybody.
The homesickness gradually wore down as Dal and I made a makeshift covering for the bed. No animals had infested anything, so the worst that had happened was the natural decay of the furniture over thirty years, give or take. "You think there's water still?" I wondered, half-tempted to run the shower for kicks.
"You could try it, but I wouldn't bathe in it. Could be real nasty, or the pipes might be corroded." He smoothed down a rough wool blanket over the old feather pillows. I yanked hard on the faucet, but like the pump on Jay Mountain, nothing came out. It's just as well, I don't know what I'd have done if a gallon of red or black water would've sprayed in my face. I returned to the bed and stretched out on the blankets. "Nothing." I said matter-of-factly.
"Good, that means we'll be safe. I parked out back so the cops wouldn't see us from the road. I'm kinda surprised that they haven't tore this place down yet." He lit a cigarette, passing it to me.
"It's not the nicest thing to look at, that's for sure. No electric either. It's gonna get cold tonight."
"We'll be okay, kid, these blankets get real warm. Want something to eat?"
"Nah, I'm okay."
"I am too, you're just real skinny. Thought you might be hungry."
"I've always been that way." I shivered, and he scooted closer to me.
"I'll keep you warm, kid, don't worry." He let me fall asleep, kissing my forehead before dropping off himself. That was the first good night kiss I'd had since Mom died.
I woke up a couple times during the night expecting my dad to be there, but it was just Dal and me each time. And each time, I laid my head on his shoulder. He wasn't fat by any means either, but his shoulders were more comfortable than the pillows. He'd run his fingers through my hair when he woke up, and kiss my forehead when he'd go back to sleep. It was nice.
We packed up and left when it was still dark out. My watch read 2.30 AM. "I just wanna get you home. Your folks must miss you, kid." I think he wanted to go back also, but I didn't say anything. I don't know what he would've gone back to. We made good time, rolling into town at about 6.30 in the morning. The lights around the roof looked real pretty reflecting off the frost- just like little stars strung along to illuminate the night. "Well, here we are, kid. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"If I don't, it means you gotta drop by and knock some sense into me, okay?"
"Okay, kid. Good night, I'll see you later." He squeezed my shoulder before I hightailed it to the front steps. I waved after unlocking the door, and he drove up to his own house. Our house was quieter than normal, but there was still a little activity going on. The infomercial lady was hocking her product of the week, and Uncle Soda was nursing a drink. "Hey, stranger. Did you have fun?" he whispered, patting the couch cushion. I nodded.
"How'd y'all do without me? Is Old Glory still flying?"
"Yep, she's still flyin' high. You look exhausted."
"I'll be okay once I go to bed. I missed y'all bad, though. I know it was just one day, but I'm glad to be home." I let Uncle Soda hug me before I stumbled off to bed. He was right, I was dead tired.