SE Hinton owns The Outsiders
Female Lead
Seven-
Honey waits to come out of her room until they're all out of the house. She knows her white work blouse will be hanging on the corner of the bathroom door. Darry will have ironed it early this morning when he ironed Soda's and his shirts. Why he irons his shirt for the roofing company every day, Honey will never understand, but there is something endearing about the way that Darry is old-school enough to go to a manual labor job in a crisp, ironed shirt but also progressive enough to iron it himself.
Darry and Soda are gone by 7:30. It takes Soda twice as long to just get out of the house. The door opens and slams shut again at least three times as he returns to grab things he forgot. Darry waits for him on the porch. Ponyboy hangs around until the last possible second. He must have to sprint to make the bus, but Pony is fast. Honey doesn't hear the door open again after he leaves, so she figures he must have made it.
She stretches on her single mattress, and looks into the light coming down from the high window on the opposite wall. Her room is a converted sleeping porch at the back of the house between Darry's bedroom and the kitchen. All the Sears and Roebuck houses built in the 20s and 30s had sleeping porches. They built them into the plans of bungalow houses to allow people to sleep in the cool evening air without getting eaten up by bugs. They put them there for people with TB, too, so they could sleep in the dry air. The thought of it baffles Honey sometimes- that there could have been so many people with tuberculosis that they built porches into the blueprints of houses to accommodate them.
Darrel, Sr. had dry-walled their sleeping porch and made it a legitimate bedroom for Honey when she was two. Until then, it had been appropriate for her to share a bedroom with her older brother. When her younger brother arrived, it was decided that she ought to have her own bedroom and her father converted the porch. There is enough room for a single bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. There is no closet, but her dad installed three hooks in the wall that she could hang tiered hangers from them. The bed and the dresser were covered with sheets when she came home after her parent's deaths, but the hangers were as she left them- holding blouses and dresses that she can't see herself wearing now.
With the house otherwise empty, Honey thinks nothing about walking to the bathroom in her skirt and bra to get her blouse. Except that the house is not empty. She comes into the dining room and finds herself in full view of Dallas Winston, who is laying back on the couch. Honey sucks in a breath of surprise and then curses. Dally raises himself up on his elbow and grins at her with his animal teeth.
"Good morning, glory," he says. "I gotta say- my day's looking up already."
Honey clicks her tongue and dashes into the bathroom, snatching her blouse down on the way. She buttons it up, then takes a moment to make sure it is straight before she goes back out into the dining room.
"You're such an asshole," she says, heading straight to the kitchen without stopping to even look at Dally.
"I'm an asshole for sitting on your couch? I thought that was allowed."
"Why are you here after the boys are gone?" She doesn't wait for an answer. It will only be more snark and bullshit. "Do you want coffee?"
"Can I drink it on the couch?"
"You can drink it in hell for all I care. Yes, you can drink it on the couch. Black?"
"Sugar, sugar. Please."
Honey pulls two coffee cups down from the cupboard and pours the coffee. She dumps a spoonful of sugar in each cup. Dally is laying back on the couch again with the newspaper open to the police reports. He waves a hand to guide her to leave the cup on the coffee table. Honey considers throwing it on him, and then relents. She goes to the armchair that was first her father's and now is mostly Darry's.
"You got a car today, Dal?"
"Nope. You're going to have to charm someone else into giving you a ride to work. Did you see the paper?"
"No. Because you have it."
Dally gives her the finger while still holding the edge of the paper with his thumb and forefinger.
"Our boys and Shepards are supposed to discuss something with the River Kings tonight. Paper says Timothy Duane McDaniel is wanted on a bench warrant related to his failing to complete community service. Supposed to turn himself in. That's going to throw a wrench in things."
"Why's that? Who's Timothy McDaniel?"
"Tim. Shepard. His stepdad's the Shepard. They never legally changed it."
Honey nods and blows on her coffee. She hates hot drinks. She drinks coffee with ice cubes in it when she's working. At home she has to wait for it to cool to her liking.
She asks Dally, "What were y'all going to discuss with the River Kings? I didn't know those guys could speak in complete sentences let alone carry on a conversation."
"Yeah, no shit. Talking to them's going to be like drawing blood from a stone. Don't you worry your pretty, little head, though. We'll take care of it."
"Uh huh. So this is little boy stuff. No girls allowed."
"Man's stuff," Dally corrects her.
"Maybe. If you're taking Darrel with you. And he'd better not be going with you. He knows better than to bring that down on us."
"Didn't I tell you not to worry about it? Don't worry about it."
Whenever a guy tells her not to worry about something, Honey knows it's time to start worrying. It's the opposite and equal to a woman saying, "do whatever you want". She sighs and pulls her feet up under herself. She waits. Dally either doesn't take the hint or is trying to ignore her. He holds out longer than she would have expected, so she pokes the proverbial bear.
"So, what's Sylvia going to be doing tonight if you all still end up having this little meeting? I mean, I don't really see Shepard making things convenient for the County, do you?"
"Don't, Honey. I already told Sylvia I had something else going. Don't go getting her all stirred up."
"If you told her something as vague as you had something else going, my guess is that pot's already been stirred."
Dally throws the paper down and sits up. The move is meant to make Honey jump, but she knows better than to think Dally is going to try anything with her under Darry Curtis' roof. She stretches her legs out in front of her and smiles.
"Where y'all having this little meeting? Somewhere neutral, I'd assume. Outside of City limits and therefore not within Tulsa jurisdiction. Someplace with booze. Buck's then?"
"How many times do I have to say it?" Dally snarls.
"Do I look worried, Dal? I was just trying to think of a place to hunt some action with Sylvia tonight, since it sounds like she won't be with you."
"Well, you'd better not be doing it within a mile of Buck's."
"So, it is Buck's?"
Dally lets loose a string of curses. Honey clicks her tongue at him.
She asks, "so what's with the Shepards and River Kings?" When he doesn't immediately answer, she tells him, "Y'all had better hurry up and spill it. The longer it takes, the more time I have to decide whether I'm going to tell Darry or Sylvia that you were in here watching me get dressed."
"You can kiss my ass, Honey. Darry ain't going to believe that, and I got dirt on Sylvia that trumps me seeing you in your undies. Stay away from Buck's tonight."
He stands up and turns towards the door, remembers his coffee, and turns back to take a sip. It's too hot, but he gulps it down rather than let on to Honey that he's burning the hell out of the inside of his mouth.
"Thanks for the coffee," he says. "And the peep show."
"Anytime," she tells him.
Dally stalks out the door, letting the screen slam.
Honey waits until he is gone to finish her coffee. She checks the clock on the wall. She can take the next bus and make it to work. Before she goes, she needs to call Sylvia Bell.
