Chapter One:
There was no real explanation for Angel's newfound talent. It seemed to me, that she just woke up one morning and decided that she was a make-up artist, and it was beginning show that she had no real natural talent for the skill. Watching skeptically from the safety of my bed and as far away from my vanity, I carefully eye the thick and shaky line that she sweeps over Annette's eyelid.
"Olay," Angel says, "open your eyes."
Annette opens her eyes and leans closer towards the mirror. I can feel my own laughter beginning to swell in my chest, but I swallow it carefully, knowing better than to dare laugh at Angela Shepard.
"Angel," Annette begins, and my body leans closer with anticipation, "It's just what I wanted!" She trills, turning her head from side to side, "I look like Cleopatra."
"Just like Elizabeth Taylor." I agree, hoping that neither girl catches onto the sarcasm.
"You think so?" Angel asks as she uses the eyeliner to thicken her own crooked lines. "You want me to do yours too, Penny?"
I feel one of my eyebrows lift and I bite back the retort that builds in my throat. "I think that if we don't get going," I say glancing at the clock hanging above my bed, "we're going to be late."
"You can't be late to a Mark and Bryon party, dummy" Annette says with an eyeroll.
"Oh, I'm sorry," my voice equally as heavy with the sarcasm. "I tend to not hang around with degenerates."
"You seem to have a pretty good relationship with your brother," Annette laughs, and Angel joins in with a chuckle.
"Har, har." I say before tossing a pillow in their general direction of my vanity. They dodge the hit, and the pillow hits the mirror causing it to slightly swing and knock over a bottle of perfume. Annette takes a moment to clean up the mess before throwing the pillow back at me.
"Speaking of your brother," Angel says with a quick glance in my direction. I feel a blush beginning to settle on my face, creeping towards my ears as I try to imagine what Angela Shepard could possibly want with Two-Bit. Angel, in my opinion, didn't have the best reputation when it came to her relationships with the boys on our side of town. She had just broken up with Bryon Douglas and was suddenly asking about Two-Bit.
She must notice my eyes narrow because she's suddenly laughing at me, "I don't want to date your brother."
"Why are you asking then?" Annette asks suddenly just as interested as me.
"I was just wondering if he's still friends with Curtis," Angel says with a sharp smile.
"Oh," Annette laughs. "Is he your next victim?"
"Which Curtis?" I ask at the same time as Annette.
"Ponyboy" Angel trills like it's the most obvious thing in the world. She takes a moment to swipe a deep red lipstick over her lips and suddenly she reminds me of a black widow. Nothing good could come from this. "One of them is too old and the real handsome one is all messed up from Vietnam anyways."
I feel the goosebumps rise on my arms and suddenly get up to close the window just to give me something to do. The girls chat smartly about how beautiful Sodapop Curtis used to be and I hold my breath waiting for them to finally stop.
"I think he's the perfect boy to make Bryon really question why he would ever want to leave me." Angel finally says and her haughty smile grows into a brilliant grin. The same sharp glint sparkling in her eyes that her brother's sported whenever they were ready to pick a fight.
"I thought you broke up with Bryon," I ask to steer the conversation away from the Curtis brothers. Those boys had always been Two-Bits friends, but I felt the same inclination to protect them as I did my own brother.
"You're missing the point," Angel snaps, clearly done with the conversation. "Curtis is the prize for the night. I won't accept anything less."
The downstairs of our house has always been my mother's domain. The upstairs has always been a mess from Two-Bit and myself, but the downstairs really mirrored the home-life my mother did her best to provide for us. As we descend the stairs, I can hear the charming voice of Paul Anka filling the kitchen as my mother putters around and Two-Bit and his girlfriend laugh over something she just said.
"Nellie," she calls over the radio, poking her head around the corner to catch a glimpse of us. I see her eyes widen as she looks over Angel's and Annette makeup and for a moment the corners of her mouth twitch towards a smile.
"Yeah, mama?" I ask, leading the girls into the kitchen where my mother has a large pot of stew on the stove. The smell is heavenly, and I lift the lid allowing the aroma filled steam to tickle my face.
"Circus in town?" Two-Bit asks once Annette and Angel are in the harsh fluorescent lights of our kitchen. I lift an eyebrow at him and suck down the laugh that dares to escape my lips.
"Hush-up, Two." Donna, Two-Bit's girlfriend says, but I can hear the laughter in her voice. "They look great."
"The only clown here is you, Two-Bit." Angel spits before sticking her tongue out at him.
"You girls eating with us?" Mama asks cutting off whatever smart retort that Two-Bit had waiting for Angel I watch her eyes Angel and Annette carefully, noticing how her eyes sweep over them carefully and then once over me. In comparison, my short dress, which my mother had described as "floozy" when I purchased it, now looked tame compared to their even shorter skirts.
"No, we gotta go Mama." I say, knowing better than to hang around her and Two-Bit any longer. They suddenly might decide that I can't go. The thought itself was mortifying.
"Take a piece of bread and butter at least," she says, pushing the basket towards us.
"Where you girls headed anyways?" Two-Bit asks and I'm about to tell him to mind his business when Anette cuts me off.
"Mark Jennings and Bryon Douglas' house. They're throwing their annual end of the school year bash." She smiles coolly and I roll my eyes, nudging her to shut-up with my elbow.
"Huh," Two-Bit says before directly looking at me. "Don't stay out too late."
"I don't think I've ever met Mark or Bryon," my mother says thoughfully. "Do you know them Two-Bit?"
"Like I said," I nod for the door, grabbing a piece of bread as the girls follow me out of the kitchen, "we gotta go."
"Penelope Mathews," my mother warns, and I pause, turning to face her with a blank face. If I panicked or overreacted she definitely wouldn't let me go. "Who else is going to be there?
"My brother Curly will be there," Angel chimes in. I sigh, this was not helping me the way Angel thought it would.
"I don't think I know Curly either," my mother turns to look at Two-Bit, waiting for his input on the situation.
"Ponyboy will be there too," I say quickly, cutting off whatever two cents Two-Bit wants to add in. "Ponyboy and Mark are good friends."
"Oh! Well, that is a name I do know," my mother smiles and waves me away. "Stick close to Ponyboy, will you, Nell?"
"Sure mama," I sigh turning back towards the front door to hide my eyeroll.
"Be safe tonight ladies," my mama calls after us as the screen door slams shut behind us.
Lucky for me, Mark and Bryon's house isn't too far from my own. The very idea of having to be my mama to borrow her car or ask Two-Bit to drive would have been too mortifying. Mama would walk into the house and demand to meet Bryon's mother and Two-Bit would decide he would need to stay. I sigh, allowing the cooling summer night to wash over my body and I rub my hands over my arms to try to conserve some of my body heat. The cicadas hum lazily in the bushes around us, and I watch our shadows stretch out across the sidewalk as we turn the corner away from the streetlights and away from my brother's watchful gaze.
It was always such a double standard when it came to me and him. Two-Bit got to do whatever he wanted, but I had to follow a specific set of rules that seemed to change at a drop of a hat. It drives me nuts, especially when Two-Bit and his friends caused enough trouble for me to look like a saint in comparison.
I sigh and kick at a rock, annoyed that I allowed Two-Bit and my mother to get under my skin. I wanted them to trust me, practically begged them to. It was so unfair that I was held to such a higher standard without any of the benefits to go with it. The walk is short, just a few blocks over from my own street as we near I find my mood changing with each rhythmic step closer. The sounds of the cicadas slowly fade into the loud music and laughter filling Mark and Bryon's house party
Following, Annette and Angel up the steps of the porch, I find myself pulling on the hem of my dress, suddenly wondering why I didn't listen to my mother about its length. Angel notices and swats at hands before pushing me in through the front door. I have never attended a party thrown by Mark and Bryon but had heard enough about them. The music was just loud enough to barely hear the people next to you, the alcohol filling every space on the kitchen counters ranging from beer to wine coolers to vodka to whisky, and the people packed so tightly into the house that you couldn't move without someone rubbing against you. It was everything I had imagined, but not as glamourous as the girls had made it seem.
Angel beelines for the group of boys that are crowding the kitchen, reaching behind herself to grab me and Annette by our hands and dragging us along. In the kitchen, Mark and Bryon are mixing a couple of drinks for a different group of girls, but I suddenly realize why Angel rushes over, when I notice Ponyboy Curtis leaning against the wall and talking to her brother Curly.
"Gentlemen," Angel coos as she pushes her way past the group of girls. Annette following hot on her heels, "and Curly."
Curly Shepard rolls his eyes and shifts his weight to block his sister from getting any closer. This makes me laugh, but I cover it quickly with a light cough, remembering my own frustration for older brothers. Not wanting to be left behind, I carefully scoot past the group of girls, apologizing when I step on one of their shoes and then feeling the blush burn my cheeks when I realize, once again, how out of place I am.
"I don't think I've seen you here before," a voice says close to my ear, causing me to jump in surprise. I look up to find Mark Jennings leaning over me, his yellow eyes staring intently into my own. "Penelope Mathews," he continues with a teasing grin, "does your brother know you're here?"
"Funny," I say before pushing him away. Mark laughs but doesn't move back to the other group of girls like I expected. Instead, he opens his hands and gestures to the wide range of alcohol sitting on the counter, "What's your poison, Penny?"
I study the different bottles of alcohol that fill the counter and lick my lips unsure of where to even begin. I glance towards Angel and Annette, who are already deeply engrossed in their respective conversations between Ponyboy and Curly, that I know it will look silly to interrupt and ask what I should drink.
"Well," Mark says, like he feels my sudden apprehension, "I recommend the special." He reaches into the ice box and pulls out a wine cooler, cracking it open for me with ease. As he hands it over, Mark leans a little closer and says, "Not a lot of alcohol, but just enough to help you loosen up."
"Thanks, I guess," I say, feeling my eyebrow lift. Mark laughs and tips the mouth of his beer against mine in a cheer.
I stand awkwardly between the two groups, sipping carefully on the wine cooler, and leaning against the open counter as I watch the conversations play out. Mark stays silently next to me watching closely with me. From our spot in the kitchen, I feel like I can watch the small chaos unfold around us. Bryon seems to have found a girl up to his liking and is slowly leading her back towards the living room where people are dancing. Annette has taken it upon herself to distract Curly and is doing a fine job of it. I notice that every couple of moments she reaches over to touch his arm or ask about one of his many scars. He is leaning towards her, licking his lips, eyeing the shape of her hips in her skirt.
Unfortunately for Angel, Ponyboy Curtis doesn't seem to be as captivated by there conversation. He nods politely and answers her questions but refuses to meet her eyes for too long. Every few seconds, his gaze lifts from her face and settles on the crowd, like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Angel shifts he weight in frustration, taking a long sip of her beer, before demanding his attention once more.
"How's your brother," Angel asks, and I feel my body turn cold. The same goosebumps from earlier spread over my arms and I study Ponyboy's face intently.
He looks down at her, his attention finally fully focused on her face. His brows furrow and I watch his lower jaw clench in annoyance. It's so subtle, that a person like Angela would never notice.
"He's fine," Ponyboy answers and this time he takes a long gulp of his drink to cut the conversation. Over the rim of his cup, he finally notices me and Mark standing there watching, "Hey, Nel."
"Pony," I say with a small, but forced smile back. "Or should I say Curtis?" I ask, trying to lighten the tension.
"Ha-ha," he says, cocking an eyebrow to mimic my brother, "I'll call you Penny then." He takes this moment to step around Angel and join me and Mark against the counter.
"I like Nellie just fine, thanks." I tell him.
"Me too," he responds with a sigh as Angel turns to join us.
"You wanna dance or what?" She finally asks with a desperate glance to the crowd that Bryon disappeared in with his date. Ponyboy shifts uncomfortably and takes another long sip of his drink.
"Well damn, Angel," Mark says picking up on the awkwardness. He tips his drink back and chugs, "Why didn't you say something earlier?"
Mark grabs Angel by the hand and as he drags her out onto the dance floor he turns and winks towards Pony and me, mouthing the words run. This makes me laugh and Ponyboy joins me with a light chuckle.
"Good'ol Mark," he tells me, "Want to go smoke a cigarette on the porch?"
"I don't smoke," I tell him with a shrug of my shoulders. He starts to walk away and I awkwardly hang onto the neck of my wine cooler, wondering what I can distract myself with now that half the group has moved onto the dance floor.
Ponyboy stops in the doorway of the kitchen and turns to look at me, his eyebrow raised in questions, "You comin' or what, Nel?"
He reaches his hand out and pulls me into the crowd, hanging onto me tightly as we push through the couples on the dance floor. As we pass, I catch Angel's eye and smile sheepishly, trying not to read too much into the daggers piercing me through her eyes.
