Chapter 5 - Train Tracks
Dallas stirred with a grimace as morning sunlight pierced sore eyes. Blinking away the fog, memories seeped in from the fading edges of dreams - busted lips and bloody knuckles in a haze of violence - he had half expected to wake up to a fist in the face. Taking in his surroundings he remembered he was on the Curtis' couch. He had come last night after dropping off Steve and Two-bit.
Rolling stiff shoulders, he spotted Darry gathering his tools, broad back already damp with sweat. "Rough night, Superman?" Dallas grunted.
Darry glanced over, concern creasing his brow. "You boys need to be more careful. Another scrape like that and the law will be down harder than hail." His tone booked no argument as usual.
"Sureee.." Dallas yawned, although the look in his eyes said otherwise.
Pony shuffled in next, shouldering his bag wearily. But a spark ignited in him catching sight of the older boys, idolizing them despite all. Dallas saw himself there once, before reality set in harsh.
Pony slumped onto the couch, eyes alight with curiosity at seeing Dallas there. "So how'd the rumble go? You guys whoop those Socs good?"
Dallas chuckled, wincing as his split lip pulled. "It was goin' our way till the fuzz showed. Got in a few good licks though."
Just then Sodapop burst in, shirt half-buttoned as he rummaged frantically. "Anyone seen my DX shirt? I'm gonna be late!" Darry sighed, already shouldering extra responsibility since their folks passed.
It'd been a couple of tough months in the Curtis household. Their parents' accident left huge holes, both financial and emotional. Darry stepped up at just 20, working his fingers to the bone as a roofer to care for his brothers.
Sodapop helped out too between his job, ever the cheerful face to buoy the family's spirits. And Ponyboy - the youngest worked hard in school, hoping to help lighten loads someday with a good career. Ponyboy was probably - no definitely - the smartest kid in all the East side.
"Shit, where is it!?" Soda said, looking underneath the couch.
Dallas smirked. "Try looking somewhere besides under rocks, dimwit."
Soda shot him a look, grinning despite himself. They'd all been through hell, but his smile never faded - a beacon of hope keeping the dark at bay.
Pony sighed wistfully. "Musta been some rumble. Wish I was old enough to join in."
Dally ruffled his hair roughly, fighting a grin. "You're too much of a pansy, 'sides you shoulda seen Curly. Punk got beaten up real good." Glancing at Soda, now triumphantly waving his shirt, Dallas knew this ragtag family was tougher than they looked.
Witnessing their morning routine filled Dallas with melancholy. Nearly a year since the accident, and he missed the Curtis' parents more than he'd like to admit, all the boys did.
Since both Darry and Sodapop needed to rush off to work on time, Dallas offered - more like forced to by Darry - to give Pony a ride to school. They swung by to pick up Johnny as well who was only down a couple of houses.
The rumbling truck bumped down the road as Dallas steered one-handed, cigarette dangling from the other. In the passenger seat, Johnny kept his eyes low, as always, scrawny frame seeming to sink into the worn upholstery.
Dallas flicked a glance his way, catching the fingerprint-shaped bruises stark on Johnny's tan skin. His jaw tightened, hands grasping the wheel till his knuckles blanched.
"Your old man at it again?" he grunted around the cigarette. Johnny gave a tiny shrug and nod. Dallas spat a curse under his breath.
In the back, Pony prattled on obliviously, but Dallas barely heard him. All he saw was red, like whenever he looked at Johnny's damn face and saw the man who put it there. Johnny shot him a fearful glance, reading his expression all too well.
"Leave it, Dal," he pleaded softly. But Dallas knew one day he wouldn't, Johnny's dad would go too far and Dallas wouldn't restrain his Indian and then. For now, he throttled the rage down, keeping his cold eyes on the road ahead.
"Better ice that shiner later, Johnnycake," was all he said, but the promise lingered heavy in the raw quiet of the truck's cab - no one messed with what was Dallas's, especially not blood kin who should've defended the boy instead of damaging him.
Johnny shot Dallas a grateful look as they slipped into lighter topics. But the promise still hung thick in the cramped car.
From the back seat, Pony rustled around noisily, papers swishing. Dallas flicked his eyes to the rearview, glaring. "The hell's the racket, Ponyboy?"
Pony glanced up with a sheepish smile, notes clutched in hand. "Just goin' over for my math test. Mrs. Hammner's been piling it on and I wanna be ready."
Dallas scoffed. "Ain't no equation worth that kinda fuss, kid." Still, something twitched in his stoic face seeing Pony so determined - reminded him of someone else with a burning fuel that needed safe passage, not stomping out.
"Didn't you have a favorite while in school?" Pony asked.
Dallas laughed dryly . "Wasn't none. Dropped out soon's I was able, hate all that homework bullshit."
Johnny piped up. "Art's fun, and the easiest."
"You still draw those pictures, Johnnycake?"
Johnny nodded without looking up. "Johnny's real talented. His landscapes look so real." Pony said, voice closer as he propped his chin on Johnny's headrest.
Johnny shifted uncomfortably under the praise but didn't deny it. Dallas watched him, noticing a familiar spark in those shadowed eyes. Maybe there was hope left in this crackerbox town if they each found their own routes, not the ones society set out.
With that, they fell to brooding silence once more, three greaser boys lost in private thoughts, traveling as always toward uncertain tomorrows.
Dallas pulled up in front of Will Rogers High, engine rumbling impatiently. Pony swung his bag over his shoulder and flashed a quick smile. "Thanks for the ride, Dal."
Johnny nodded gratefully too before joining Pony toward the cacophony of students. Dallas watched them go, wrestling with strange swells of pride and worry for his younger companions.
School held no appeal, so he decided to grab breakfast at the Dingo, hoping to occupy his time before his usual haunts opened. Inside, the place bustled with bleary-eyed workers rushing for their morning caffeine. Dallas ordered a cup of sludge and took in the crowd, sizing up potential targets for a game of pool or cards later. Anything to pass idle hours and ease his rolling thoughts.
As he ate, a familiar figure caught his eye entering - Tim Shepard and his gang, hard boys who ran their own territory. Wondering what trouble was brewing, Dallas finished up and sauntered over smooth as a stray. "Hey Tim, what's the word?" Maybe a distraction had found him after all.
As Dallas approached, Tim slammed his fist on the counter, startling the half-asleep server. "Coffee. Black." He turned to Dal with a scowl. "Saw your boys mixing it up the last night. Mickey says you held your own."
Dallas leaned against the bar, probing the split in his lip casually. "Ain't my first rodeo, Shepard. Steve and Two-bit did swell too."
Tim huffed. "Yeah, well, don't go starting nothing on my turf. We just finished repairs from the last mess."
Taking their coffees, they settled in a booth as Tim's gang filtered out, sensing their leader wanted to parlay alone. Dallas lit a cigarette and eyeballed Tim shrewdly. "Things getting hot on your end?"
Tim ran a tired hand over his face. "Some hotshot smalltimers been muscling in, wanting to prove themselves. Keeps us busy putting them in their place."
Dallas blew a plume of smoke, calculating. "Need an extra knife? I'm feelin' restless." A sly smile played at Tim's lips - he admired Dallas' itchy trigger finger. A perfect foil for troublemakers needing sense knocked into them.
"You read my mind, Winston. Follow me after. I got a...proposition."
Dallas followed Tim's prowler through back streets, already anticipating fists flying. It had been too long since his blood sang with purpose.
They rolled up outside an abandoned warehouse near the train tracks. Tim scanned the area before gesturing Dallas to follow silently inside.
Muffled voices floated from the far room. Dallas lithely stole closer, Tim at his heels. Peering through the cracked door, three rough looking strangers came into view, passing a bottle as they laughed raucously.
"-heard Shepard's crew been slacking. Time for new blood to take over." The speaker gestured wildly, missing Tim's narrowed eyes behind the door.
"Yeah? You and what army?" Tim snarled, barging in with Dallas on his heels. The men sprang up, fumbling for weapons, but Dallas was faster, launching into the nearest bastard with a right hook.
In seconds the room erupted into a brawl, fists cracking and grunts of pain filling the tin-walled space. Dallas let loose, savoring each blow landing true. This was his domain, the only place he felt truly alive.
When the dust settled, the three interlopers lay groaning on the floor, one out cold. Tim grinned at Dallas, bloodied knuckles shining. "Not bad, Winston. You ever think of expanding your horizons?"
Dallas lit a fresh cigarette, regarding Tim curiously through the smoke. "Expanding, huh? Don't beat around the bush Shepard, out with it."
Tim wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "This scrap just proved what I been thinkin'. You got skill, Dal, and lack of fear I admire. Ever think of partnering up on more...lucrative jobs?"
Dallas blew out a long plume, mulling the proposition. He got by on smalltime hustles and petty crimes, but there was appeal in scaling up, having more weight to throw around.
"And what do I get out of it?" he questioned.
Tim grinned. "Cut of profits, of course. And you'd be representing my crew, so no one messes with you either. Consider it...payment for services rendered."
Dallas pondered the offer - stable pay, protection, and action to sate his wanderlust. Could be just what he needed to feel in charge of his life for once. He took a final drag and met Tim's eyes steady.
"Alright Shepard, I'm in. What's the first job?" Opportunity was knocking - whether he'd answer was another story. But one thing Dallas loved was a good gamble.
Mary hid her face as she hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her sweater tighter against the chill. She tried to ignore the stares of people she passed, knowing her faint bruise was still visible beneath the powder.
As she neared the church, familiar giggles made Mary pause. Two girls from her youth group, Beth and Debbie, lingered outside huddled together against the cold concrete wall. .
Mary wasn't overtly religious herself, she found solace in the youth group community. She mostly came for the friendship and support network, not necessarily the sermons or scripture study.
Beth and Debbie - two other greaser girls trying to escape their own troubled homes for an hour or two each week. While different, they all shared a look of weary resignation in their eyes.
Over choir practice and bible study, the three began bonding through small acts of compassion - sharing cigarettes out back, passing notes to lift each other's spirits, little acts of comfort in a cold world.
Beth spotted her first, waving wildly. "Hey Mare! We were waiting for ya." Her smile faded as Mary approached slowly. "You okay? You're as white as a ghost."
Debbie noticed the discolored skin, her eyes darkened.
Mary looked down, ashamed. "It's nothing, really. I'm fine. Yesterday" She paused. "You know how I got a job at Mel's? I crashed into one of the girls carrying a tray..got smacked right in the face.." she finished with a nervous giggle.
Debbie lit up a smoke, nudging it towards Mary who politely declined. "C'mon, let's blow this place for a while. I know a spot down by the train yards, real peaceful."
The girls linked arms and wandered toward the all-too-familiar sounds of the trains, seeking solace however brief among their greaser brethren.
The sun beat down as Mary kept pace between Beth and Debbie, their shoes kicking up dust on the gravel path.
Debbie's laughter rang out, head tossed back carefree. "Didja see Marnie's face when Sister Jackie called on her to recite passages yesterday?" She imitated Marnie's stunned expression with gleeful accuracy.
Beth giggled, shoving Debbie's shoulder playfully. "Cut it out, you'll give Mary here another shiner." Her eyes softened as she glanced at Mary's bruise.
Mary managed a wan smile, appreciating Beth's quieter compassion beside Debbie's brassy charm. They had become her anchors in a tempest, understanding without interrogation.
As the train yard spilled into view, Debbie pulled ahead, blonde hair streaming behind her. "Last one there's church choir fodder!" she hollered with a devilish grin.
Beth rolled her eyes fondly and gave Mary a knowing look. "Come on, slowcoach. Better not leave Debs waiting or she'll talk your ear off all afternoon."
Their laughter echoed across the meadow as they ran, for a blissful time forgetting everything beyond. Here, they were just kids spiritedly chasing each other through summer grass.
Mary pushed her bruised body as hard as she could to keep up with Beth and Debbie's bounding forms ahead. Their carefree laughter drifted back on the breeze, egging her on, but each footfall sent a fresh jolt of pain through her legs.
She slowed to a pained jog, pressing her fingers tight against the tender skin. Glancing up, she realized with a jolt that the meadow had swallowed her friends from view.
"Wait...!" she called weakly, but the wind stole her voice. Around her the grasslands stretched endless in every direction. A familiar swell of panic began to rise in her chest.
Then off to her left, Debbie's bright hair emerged above the wafting stalks like a beacon. "Mare, you okay?" She yelled, spotting Mary's lagging gait.
Beth appeared at Debbie's side a moment later. Her sharp eyes quickly took in Mary's distress. "Hey, hey, we don't gotta run none-"
"N-no! I-I'm okay," Mary cut her off. "Sorry, I ain't good at runnin', I get tired quick.."
Mary's ragged breaths began to steady as Beth and Debbie tenderly supported her weight.
Beth rubbed her back gently. "Nothing to apologize for, Mare. We all got our limitations."
Debbie flashed her trademark roguish grin. "Speak for yourself, church girl. Not all of us are so delicate."
Beth shot her a mock glare, then turned back to Mary with a soft smile. "Color's coming back to your cheeks now. Think you can walk on your own?"
At Mary's nod, they released her cautiously. She stood steady, bruise throbbing but bearing it. Just then, a chugging rumble echoed across the clearing.
"Train's coming!" Debbie whooped, snagging Beth and Mary each by the hand. "C'mon slowpokes, best seats are down by the tracks."
As they wandered over the rise, Mary found her second wind keeping pace with the lively greaser girls. With them at her side, she feared no Boilermakers lurking in the tall grass—or ghosts haunting in her mind.
The trio crested the hill just in time to see the train emerge from the thicket of trees, engine billowing puffs of smoke into the amber sky. Mary's eyes widened at its grand scale—a beast of steel rumbling toward them.
"Ain't she a beauty?" Debbie sighed wistfully, as if naming an old flame. Beth squeezed Mary's hand with an excited grin.
They hurried to find a vantage point amidst the cusp of weeds between gravel and tracks. Getting as close as they dared, they felt the vibrations humming through the earth beneath their boots.
The train barreled past in a deafening blur, each boxcar revealing fragments of far off places through open doors. Mary swore she glimpsed a flash of stranger's face peering out, free as the wild wind in that instant.
Then it was gone, noises fading into the fields beyond. But its thrilling spirit lingered on the girls' glowing faces—a reminder that beyond their borders lay a vast, untamed world still waiting to be discovered.
As the sun dipped low, Debbie lobbed an arm around Mary with a catlike smile. "So? That put some color in those cheeks, didn't it Mare?" Mary smiled back, gratitude swelling her bruised heart. Wherever this train may lead, the journey seemed suddenly brighter.
Ponyboy and Johnny were walking about, shoulders brushing as they walked close in companionable silence. They had been at Pony's house working on homework until they grew bored.
"Thinkin' Darry'll let me catch the night showing tonight?" Pony asked hopefully as they meandered down the sidewalk, savoring the final moments of leisure before chores called.
Johnny considered. "Reckon you did real good on that algebra quiz. Couldn't hurt to ask real nice." He flashed Pony a small conspiratorial smile.
They shot the breeze as they walked, swapping ideas on what mischief they might find to fill the sunny hours. Approaching the lot, a burst of feminine laughter echoed from down the street.
Three figures crested the hill in a loose-knit huddle, backs to the setting sun as they chattered animatedly. Johnny nudged Pony. "Ain't that Mary?"
Pony followed his gaze, squinting as the fading light bathed everything in a soft glow. Mary spotted them and lifted a hand in an awkward wave. Even from afar, the shadow of a bruise was visible on her cheek.
"Is it me or is her face kinda purple?.." Pony whispered, waving back.
"Shit, man, I think it is.." Johnny said, lifting his hand to wave as well.
As they came together on the path, Pony returned her smile shyly. "Hey," he greeted, then realized Mary likely didn't know his name.
Beside him, Johnny flashed Mary a small, lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze flicked to Beth and Debbie, brows raised in greeting at the two other girls hovering protectively by Mary's side. He was more shy around unfamiliar girls.
"Johnny," Mary nodded, then to Ponyboy. "We ain't formally met but I know your face from around." A smile briefly lit her features before melting into a wince as her bruise pulled.
"N-Name's Ponyboy," Pony stammered as his cheeks flushed red from Mary's curious gaze. Beside him, Johnny scuffed the toe of his worn shoe in the dirt, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
Mary bit her lip, eyes dancing with barely contained mirth. "That's a real unique name," she remarked gently. Too kind to openly tease, but her smile betrayed her amusement.
Beside Mary, Debbie let out a laugh, nudging Beth playfully. Pony's blush deepened as the girls giggled at his expense. Nearby, Johnny shifted from foot to foot, gaze fixed determinedly on the ground as he wished the earth would just swallow him whole.
Beside her, Beth elbowed Debbie lightly. "Shucks, give the boy a break, Debs. Ain't his fault his mama fancied horses."
Johnny hid a grin, coming to Pony's defense. "Aw, lay off him. Ponyboy's a fine name." he said softly.
Beth gave Debbie a pointed look and she shrugged, still grinning. The girls introduced themselves briefly, their laughter faded into smiles as the group drifted together on the sidewalk.
After a few more moments of idle chatter, Mary glanced back the way they'd come. "Reckon we better start back. Bye Ponyboy, Johnny!" she said with a wave.
Johnny and Ponyboy returned the farewell, kicking at stones as the girls' figures receded into the dusk. An easy silence fell between them as they continued home.
"They seem nice, right?" Johnny mumbled, eyes fixed on his feet as he kicked a pebble, determined not to lose it.
"Mhm, nice folk." Ponyboy hummed thoughtfully.