Chapter
1:
"See ya tomorrow, kid."
"Bright and early, Stella," I called back as I opened the door and
stepped out into the parking lot of the diner. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring
the warm sunlight shining down on my face, and the clean, fresh air that wasn't
tainted by the greasy aroma of burgers and fries.
A loud catcall whistle shook me from my reverie, and I looked up to see Curly
Shepard heading towards me, his fists jammed into the pockets of his leather
jacket, sporting torn jeans and enough hair grease to put even his older
brother Tim to shame.
"Somethin' ya want, Shepard?" I asked as he approached.
Curly grinned, his eyes raking me over appreciatively. "Now that ya
mention it..."
I rolled my eyes and shoved him in the chest, sending him stumbling back a
little. "Shut ya trap, Curly, I ain't in the mood to play around."
Curly immediately sobered, his dark eyes narrowing. "Long day at work,
Curtis?" he asked, nodding his head at the diner behind me.
"No more than usual," I replied with a heavy sigh as I started
walking. Curly fell into step beside me, as I had expected he would. We've
known one another for a long while, since the playground back in grade school,
and while Curly may have grown into a first rate thug, he was still a good guy,
deep down, you know? I mean, sure he was going to wind up in the cooler for the
rest of his life one of these days, having spent more time in the reformatory
than anyone else I know, but I kind of liked him.
"Glory, girl," he muttered, digging in his jacket for cigarettes.
"I don't see why ya keep workin' yourself this way. It ain't like ya have
to or anythin'."
"But I do," I retorted, taking the cigarette he offered me, and
allowing him to light it. "We're strugglin' as it is to get all the bills
paid each month, an' workin' double shifts gets me some extra cash to put
aside."
Curly nodded, but didn't reply. Despite his complaining about the fact that I
was overworking myself, he understood why I was doing it. Ever since my parents
died a while back, money had been real tight for us at home. My older brothers
both had full-time jobs, but what they made was barely enough to make ends
meet. I'd been working at the local diner part-time since I was fourteen, but
with school and the diving team I wasn't able to get in a lot of hours.
Something had to change if our lives were ever going to get any better.
Since dropping out of school wasn't an option, Darry had let Soda drop out only
because we needed the money and because Soda isn't really the scholarly type,
that left diving to quit.
I hated not being on the team this season, hated not being able to stand up on
the edge of the high dive and just loose myself in the art, hated letting my
teammates down, but I'd made my choice, and I knew it was the right one.
Of course, Darry wouldn't agree. He's got some much hope for my future riding
on my diving. The coach says I've got God-given talent, that I could even make
it to the Olympics someday if I worked hard enough. Darry's real serious about
me suceeding, the same way he is with Pnoyboy about his schooling. Sometimes I
reckon he wants us to do so well because he missed out on his chance.
That's why I couldn't tell him I'd quit the team.
Especially not to work extra hours to help him support the family.
It was hard, sometimes, covering up the fact that I was working more hours than
I should be, but I managed. Most of the time I said I was going out with some
friends, or to the library or the mall, when in reality I was waiting tables at
the diner. I'd started packing my uniform in my bookbag so that right after
school I could take off and then change once I got to the diner. When my shift
was over, I changed back into my normal clothes, and left my waitress dress
with Emma, my best friend since before we could walk, and a fellow waitress at
the diner. She'd get my dress cleaned with hers, then bring it back to me at
school, so my brothers were none the wiser.
"Your brothers still in the dark?" Curly asked, gesturing with his
cigarette to the bag slung over my shoulder.
"Yeah," I replied, taking a long drag on my own cigarette. "They
haven't got a clue."
Curly shook his head. "You know when your big brother finds out, Lizzie,
he's gonna skin your hide, you know that?"
"Yeah," I said, and I did. But the way I figured it, by the time
Darry caught on, I'll have enough money saved up that he won't really be that
angry with me. Lord knows we need the money, and he's too proud to admit that
he needs the help.
Darry's always been that way, though, even back before Mom and Dad were killed.
He works too long and too hard, and refuses to let anyone see him as weak.
Guess we both got that from Mom, she was always a real stubborn woman. Darry
looks just like Dad, though, with the same broad, strong build, and the same
dark brown hair. Dad had brown eyes, though, Darry's are a real pale aquamarine
color. Darry's also real serious, the strict and firm man of the house,
even though he's only twenty. He's been that way ever since Mom and Dad died,
and sometimes I makes me real sad to see how fast he had to grow up. He was
just a kid one day, and the next he was suddenly forced to be an adult, and a
parent to his three younger siblings. I kind of admire him for that, you know?
My other big brother, Soda, is the complete opposite of Darry. Soda's wild and
free, like a young colt that's just testing its legs as it gallops around the
field. He's a real charmer, too, with movie-star good looks and the suave
demeanor to match. Girls are always fawning all over him, Greaser and Soc
alike. It's annoying at times, how that dreamy smile of his makes every girl in
town melt. Soda's tall, but shorter than Darry, with a wiry muscularity that
suits his seventeen years. Out of all my brothers, I guess I look the most like
Sodapop. We both have dark-gold hair and deep brown eyes, a combination of Mom
and Dad, and reckless grins. While I tend to work too hard and worry too much,
like Darry, Soda just lives every moment as it comes. He's a lot like Dad was
in that sense.
"How'd you keep Ponyboy from finding out about you quitting diving?"
Curly asked curiously as we turned the corner. He and Pony have always gotten
along well, ever since I can remember. They don't hang out much anymore, which
is probably a good thing since whenever they did get together they were bound
to get into trouble. "Isn't he usually around after school because of
track?"
"Nah," I shook my head. "Track season doesn't start for another
month."
"You better figure out what the hell you're gonna do about this mess by
then," Curly advised. "I don't reckon Pony'll keep his trap shut. Not
about that, anyway."
"No," I agreed. "Probably not."
Ponyboy's the baby of the family at fifteen, and a dreamer. One thing I know?
That boy's going places in his life. He won't be stuck here forever like some
guys, he'll find a way out and make it on his own. He might not see it, but I
do. So does Darry, which is why he's so hard on him, pushing him to succeed. While
Soda and I look like Mom, and Darry looks like Dad, Pony's as original as they
come. His light brown hair has a subtle tint of auburn to it, and his eyes are
a stormy gray-green. Sometimes Pony reminds me of a bird, always watching,
waiting, searching for the perfect time to fly.
It's for him that I'm working so hard. For Soda and Darry, too, but mostly for
him. He doesn't belong in the world we live in, he deserves better. That's why
I'm saving up as much money as I can, so that we can give him the life he
deserves one of these days.
"Well, I best be gettin' back home," Curly said, taking a drag on his
cigarette and nodding back in the other direction. "Wouldn't wanna upset
Mr. Timothy Shepard, now would I?"
I grinned as I stomped out my cigarette. "No, wouldn't wanna do a thing
like that."
"See ya at school, doll," Curly called over his shoulder as he
disappeared around the corner of the abandoned lot.
"Ya actually plannin' on showin' up?" I called back, only
half-joking. I hardly ever miss school, Darry makes sure of that, but Curly
attends about as often as I play hookey.
"Maybe," I heard him yell back.
I snorted, doubting very much that he'd show up on Monday. As I walked towards
my house, I mentally made a list of the schoolwork I had to get done by Sunday
night. Darry wouldn't ask about it until Sunday morning, so I had plenty of
time to finish the assignments that I hadn't started on yet.
I was nearing our house when I spotted a bunch of guys sitting on the side of
the road. As I drew closer, I recognized them, and veered off towards them.
With a quick glance in both directions- the gang is always making fun of me for
doing that, but I don't see what's so wrong with trying not to get run over- I
cut across the street. "Hey, ya'll," I called out, and the gang
looked up as I approached.
There's eight of us in our gang, four others besides my brothers and I. We've
all known each other a long time, having grown up in the same neighborhood. The
boys were all tough as nails, and they looked it, too.
Two-Bit Matthews was the oldest, after Darry, that is, at eighteen and a half.
His real name was Keith, but no one ever called him that, not even his own
mother. He was about six feet tall, with a stocky build, and his copper-colored
sideburns were his pride and joy. His gray eyes always seem to be laughing, and
nearly every time he opens his mouth something sarcastic comes out. Two-Bit's
always liked fights, blondes, shoplifting, drinking, his precious switchblade,
cars, and, oddly enough, school. He's still a junior, and I doubt he's planning
on graduating any time soon, he just goes for kicks. Two-Bit's a real buddy,
though, the kind of guy who can always make you laugh.
Next was Dallas Winston, who we call Dally. Dally's easily the most dangerous of
our gang, with a hatred for the world that the rest of us just don't have. In
that way he reminds me a lot of Tim Shepard, both of them wild and bitter and
deadlier than a rattlesnake. He's had a hard life, he was thrown in jail for
the first time when he was only ten. He even spent a few years up in the rough
parts of New York. Dally's a real hood, with a rap sheet down at the station a
mile long. He's good looking, with high cheekbones, a narrow jaw, unruly
white-blond hair and ice blue eyes. He'd be real handsome, if there wasn't so
much coldness, so much meanness, inside of him. It ain't really his fault, he
doesn't try to be that way, he just is.
Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with dark curly hair and intense
dark eyes. He and Soda have been best friends since they were little kids, and
they've always made a great team. The DX station they work at gets the most
business in town, partly because Soda attracts girls there like crazy, and
partly because Steve is so good with cars. He knows them inside and out, and he
can lift a hubcap quicker and more silently than anyone in town. While Soda
works full-time, Steve works part-time, since he's still going to school.
Sometimes I wonder why he bothers with classes, when he claims all he's ever going
to do with his life is work on cars. Maybe his old man won't let him drop out,
or maybe that diploma means more to Steve than he lets on.
The last member of our gang was sixteen year-old Johnny Cade, and he comes from
a real broken home. His father is always beating him, and his mother's too
drunk to even know he exists, except for when she's angry, in which case you
can hear her screaming at him all the way at our house. Johnny's a real good
kid, with tan skin, slicked back black hair, and haunted black eyes. He's the
youngest, other than Pony, and small in build. Though he's only a few months
younger than me, he looks a lot younger. A lot smaller, too, in some ways, more
timid and scared. A few months back Johnny was walking home when he was jumped by
a group of Socs, and they beat him up pretty bad. He was a bloody, bruised mess
when we found him, with a nasty gash from his temple to cheekbone. He'd carry
that scar, and the emotional ones that day had inflicted, for the rest of his
life.
"Well, look what we have here, boys," Two-Bit drawled with a lopsided
smirk. "Ain't she a pretty li'l thing?"
"You ain't so bad, yourself," I retorted with a wink as I dropped
down on the sidewalk beside Pony. "What the hell happened to you,
kid?" I asked, reaching out to brush some blood from his face with my
thumb. "You look like you ran into a truck!"
"A couple of Socs got a hold of him," Dally explained, flicking his
ashes in my direction. I scowled at him, and he shrugged innocently. "Got
himself roughed up a good bit."
"I'll say," I murmured, tracing the bruise on Pony's cheek with my
fingers. "How'd ya manage to get cornered, huh, Pony?"
Darry answered for him, giving us both a scolding look. "He was walkin' by
his lonesome. And by the looks of it, so were you."
For a moment I was tempted to make a snappish remark, I'd had a long day and
the last thing I needed was Darry acting like I was a helpless little damsel in
distress, but I thought better of it when I saw the warning look Ponyboy threw
my way. "Curly Shepard saw me as far as the lot," I replied simply,
batting aside the cigarette Dally was offering to me.
Darry didn't look real thrilled to hear I'd been associating with Curly
Shepard, but he couldn't say anything. He'd said that I shouldn't walk alone,
he never said anything about who I should or shouldn't walk with.
Steve, though, apparently felt the need to open his mouth. "What were ya
doin' with the likes of him?" he demanded with a disapproving frown.
"Walkin'," I replied shortly. "Or did ya miss that part?"
I don't know why Steve and I bicker like we do, I reckon we can't help it. It's
not that we don't like each other, it's just that for some reason he always
knows what buttons to push with me, and I do the same with him. We're both
stubborn and sarcastic, so it doesn't take much for us to get into a scuffle
about the littlest of things.
Luckily Dally chose that moment to speak up. "I'm walkin' over to the
Nightly Double tommorrow night," he announced. "Anybody want to come
and hunt some action?"
Steve shook his head. "Me and Soda are picking up Evie and Sandy for the
game."
I rolled my eyes in disgust, partly because I don't care much for Evelyn
Parker, but mostly because I had plans to go to the game, too, and I didn't
fnacy spending it with Soda and Steve and their girls around. It wasn't often
that I actually took a night off from work lately, but Emma and Tessa had
pleaded with me, and I'd caved under their begging.
"Lizzie?" Dally asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. My full
name is Elizabeth, but no one calls me that, except for Darry, and then only
when I'm in trouble.
"Sorry, Dallas," I replied apologetically. "I promised Emma and
Tes I'd go with 'em to the game."
"And just how do you plan on gettin' home from the game, princess?"
Darry demanded evenly.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Soda cut me off. "We'll give her a ride,
won't we Steve?"
"Sure thing, Sodapop."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Darry was already nodding his consent.
"Good. That's settled then. Lizzie, you wait for Soda and Steve, you hear
me?"
"How could I not?" I muttered under my breath. "You're loud
enough."
Apparently I didn't say that quite as quietly as I meant to, because Two-Bit
snickered, and Darry glared at me. Of course, the affect of his glare was
severely diminished when Soda stuck out his tongue behind his head.
"How about y'all?" Dally asked the others. "Two-Bit? Johnnycake,
you and Ponyboy wanna come?"
"Me and Johnny'll come," Pony answered. He glanced at Darry for
approval. "Okay, Darry?"
"Yeah, since it ain't a school night," Darry agreed. It's funny, on
school nights Darry barely lets Pony out of the house, he's so strict about his
schooling, but I'm pretty much allowed to come and go as I please, so long as
I'm in by a reasonable hour. Pony complains that it's not fair, but I am a
whole two years older than him, not to mention half the time I'm at work
instead of out with my friends.
"I was plannin' on gettin' boozed up tomorrow night," Two-Bit said.
"If I don't, I'll walk over and find ya'll."
"You break up with Sylvia again?" Steve asked, and I turned to see
him studying Dally's right hand. On his finger was his infamous ring, which
he'd given to Sylvia a while back.
"Yeah, and this time it's for good," Dally growled. "That little
broad was two-timin' me again while I was in jail."
I couldn't really say I was surprised. Sylvia had never been much for fidelity,
though in her defense it wasn't entirely her fault. Dallas wasn't exactly the
kind of guy who lavished you with time and affection, he mostly just wanted
some action.
Sylvia just wanted some attention.
Not that I was going to point that out. Dally's never raised a hand against me,
not once, no matter what I've said or done, but I knew better than to make him
angry. Besides, Sylvia wasn't exactly my favorite person. She wore too much
make-up and bleached her hair, and she had a shrill laugh, one of the ones that
made your skin crawl. Like most of the girls in our neighborhood, she had a
foul mouth, a sharp tongue, and was just plain rude. I never did understand
what Dally saw in her.
"It's gettin' late," Darry said, rising to his feet. "We better
get on home or dinner's gonna get cold."
"What are we having?" I asked as he extended a hand down to help me
up.
"Burgers," Darry replied, and it was all I could do not to throw up.
After working all day at the diner, the last thing I wanted to eat was a greasy
hamburger, but I wasn't in a position to complain. For one thing, Darry worked
hard to keep food on our plates and I wasn't going to upset him. For another,
as far as my brothers knew I'd spent the past few hours at the shopping mall
with Emma, not waiting tables.
I forced myself to try and finish off my burger at dinner, but I couldn't
manage it without feeling nauseous, so I ended up eating the roll instead. Soda
noticed, and asked if I was feeling okay, so I told him that my stomach was
bothering me a little, that was all.
After dinner, Ponyboy sat down to work on some of his homework, and Soda gave
Darry a back-rub. Darry roofs houses, so he's always pulling muscles. Soda's
real good at back-rubs, though, so he's usually able to work out the stiffness
in Darry's back.
I took a long shower, trying hard to scrub the scent of burgers and fries off
of my skin and out of my hair, though I knew it was mostly my imagination. By
the time I emerged from the bathroom, Soda was already laying in bed, hollering
for Pony to turn off the light, and Darry was passed out in his own room, sound
asleep. I paused at Soda and Pony's door, offering them both a small smile.
"Night," I said. "Sleep well."
"Night, li'l sister," Soda murmured sleepily.
"Night, Lizzie," Pony said as he climbed into bed beside him.
I padded along the hall to my own room, which was considerably smaller than the
one Soda and Pony shared. It used to be our washroom, but when I'd hit puberty
Mom had decided it wasn't fair to make me share a room with three boys, so she
and Dad had worked it out so that the washer and dryer could go in the utility
closet, and they'd converted the old washroom into a small bedroom for me.
After the accident, Darry had moved into Mom and Dad's room, giving Soda and
Pony more space.
I turned off the lamp beside my bed and laid down.
I was alseep before my head even hit the pillow.