Author's Note: This is my first Outsiders fic, so please keep an open mind. If you find any of the content inaccurate, please alert me, but otherwise, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own all you don't recognize from the book.
The Restoration Process
Chapter One: Cherry, Sherry, Quite Contrary
.
It could have been the way he was walking, that was the chief perpetrator for distracting her from lighting her cigarette. He had a bit of a swagger, and a lot of arrogance exuded from his figure. He had a bad limp in his right leg, and she could sense his wounded pride. She was leaning against the bus stop sign pole, casually examining her nails as he walked up, kicking an empty can of beer out of his path, with a little more exuberance than necessary. He fell heavily to sit on the curb, and he flipped up the collar of his leather jacket, trying to hide from her.
At this time of day (especially as the sun was setting and her day was, in reality, just beginning) she wasn't one to pick fights or to talk to little boys, but she felt the urge to state the obvious.
" You look like you've been in a brawl kid," she said as she took a drag from her cigarette.
Seven minutes till the bus would come.
" No shit, lady," he fired back.
She raised her eyebrows at his language. " You okay?"
He didn't respond immediately, and right about when she thought he was just going to ignore her, he spoke.
" Oh yes," he said, looking up at her with cold eyes, nodding emphatically, " I've got two black eyes, a split lip and several knife wounds in my leg. I'm just Jim dandy."
She narrowed her eyes.
Five minutes until the bus came.
" You're a cocky little imp."
The boy was getting irritated. Who was this lady anyway? She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. She had on heavy make-up, and she was smoking. She was dead attractive, even though her manicured nails were losing their touch, and her hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in a while. She had it partially clipped back, and the tresses of copper fell down a little ways past her shoulder blades. She had a knitted sweater balanced perfectly on her shoulders, and he could spot a pink shirt under the dark blue of her sweater. The jeans she was wearing were ripped at the knees, and they were a little to big for her, so she employed a belt to secure them, slung so low that he had the good grace to look the other way when she caught him staring at her.
She smirked and took another drag, scratching below her lower lip when she released the furls of smoke with the same hand that held the dwindling "cancer stick."
She was really beginning to irritate him. So he came up with the best insult he could.
" Yeah, well you're a whore!" he shouted.
He hadn't really meant to say that, but he saw one of his friends get cuffed by their older sister for saying something like that. He knew what a whore was too. Some woman who sleeps around with men for money. Not a noble profession if you asked him.
Then she did the most wondrous thing. She laughed.
A tear of mirth escaped her left eye. " Don't I know it, kid!"
Her eyes were green, and they crinkled in amusement when she laughed. Boy, she was attractive. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, and if she was, well then damn, she looked good for her age. He found suddenly, that he liked this woman, and not just because she was pretty, but because she could laugh at herself.
Laugh at her lowness, and the pool of degradation that she swam perpetual laps in.
He had a sudden idea, and he had exactly two minutes within which to execute it. He could convince her to come home with him and have dinner, so maybe for once she could have a comfortable meal, without the pressure of sleeping with the waiter that served her as her way of payment.
" Hey lady," he said slowly, a sheepish smile creeping across his face.
" Yeah, kid?" she responded, dropping her cigarette after taking a particularly deep drag, and stepping on it.
" I'm really sorry about what I said," he continued, " Can I make it up to you with dinner?"
It was really funny when she choked on the smoke. He almost burst out laughing. Tears sprang to her eyes as she fought to expel the taste, and finally when she had her composure back, she answered him.
" How old are you, kid? Seven?" she asked, trying to size him up in the approaching darkness.
" I'm eleven goddamnit!" he said indignantly.
She peered at him closely, and he couldn't place the emotion etched into her face.
" Alright then, kid. Take me to your place," she said softly, thinking she'd make up an excuse to get off the bus before him.
His family wouldn't let him bring someone like her in.
The headlights drowned them in man made white light, and they paid their fee to a gruff ageing man of about 60, making their way to the back of the bus.
The boy looked at the woman, as she fished through her faded green purse for a compact. She opened it, licked at her teeth and made a jeering face at it, examining her appearance. She made a show of applying lipstick and eyeliner, although the boy thought she had on enough. Finally, after popping a mint in her mouth, ("Hey kid, you want one?"…. "No thanks, lady.") she snapped her compact shut and tossed it back into her purse, closing it.
" Hey lady, what's your name?" the boy asked, for formality's sake.
" My name?" and here she paused, breathing in deeply, " My name is, um, Sherry Valen. No- Valence. Sherry Valence."
The boy looked at her, an eyebrow quirked. She quirked both of hers, when she looked back down at him, and he was struck with the thought that she might look good in glasses.
" Cool," he shrugged, and then muttered to himself, " Miss Sherry Valence…"
" What's your name?" she inquired, looking out the window at the street signs, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
She was either bored or nervous, and judging by the way she kept chewing on her nail, the latter seemed more likely. The boy smiled smugly.
" My name is Atlan Kaleidoscope Curtis," he said proudly, his nose slightly upturned.
Sherry snorted. " Kaleidoscope?"
" You can call me Kal, if you want, cause everyone else does."
" What kind of parents do you have?" she laughed, shaking her head.
" I don't have parents," Kal said crossly.
She sobered up. " Oh, I'm sorry."
She began biting her nails again, and Kal surprised himself when he smacked her hand away from her mouth.
" Stop," he commanded, " it's bad for you. You've got pretty hands, so use scissors, or some other girl toy. And don't be sorry about my parents. I live with my three uncles and my cousins."
She blinked, looked down at her hand, and back at him. " Well, that doesn't sound so bad."
" It isn't," he shrugged, looking out the window.
Sherry gazed at Kal intently. This boy was pretty strong. He didn't care about parents, seemed totally unaffected by his wounds, and had even invited her -a whore no less- to dinner with him.
Not that I'm going to eat with him, she reprimanded herself, although a little tiny part of her wanted to hang around him a little more. He seemed like a nice enough kid.
" Wanna see my surgery scar? I woke up during the operation, and I watched them cut me open and stuff."
Well, when he wasn't being a cocky little bastard. Full of shit.
" Sure, Kal," Sherry said wryly, watching as he thrust his upper arm under her nose.
She scrutinized a long thing scar, that didn't look much like an operation one. It didn't look like the one she-
" Hey, get up Miss Sherry, we're here!" Kal urged, tugging at her sweater, which slid off her shoulders.
Damnit! I forgot to get off! I guess I'll have to put in an appearance after all, Sherry thought.
She got up; tempted to bite her nails again, but instead she snatched for her sweater, and slung it onto her form, buttoning the bottom buttons. She walked behind him, her right arm jerking every so often. She wanted to bite her nails, but he didn't like that. So she wouldn't.
Wait a minute, how come this kid's got such a fix on me? He's eleven for crissakes, and I'm having second thoughts about biting my nails all because he doesn't like it? I must be going mad, Sherry thought desperately, jogging up to him when she realized she was lagging behind.
" We're here," he repeated, bounding up the steps with no difficulty at all, and as a matter of fact, he hadn't been limping since Sherry first saw him.
Strange…
She followed warily, calculating her story:
My name is Sherry Valence, and I am not a child molester. But I am a prostitute, however. I will not burden you with my presence, and I did not touch your nephew in an improper way whatsoever. Have a nice ni-
" Uncle Darry, this is my new friend."
His words cut through her thoughts like a knife, and she startled herself into awareness. She was biting her nails again. She looked to the doorway where Kal and, she presumed, "Uncle Darry" (Strange name for a grown man) were standing.
This "Uncle Darry" had stony green-blue eyes, and they were piercing. Shoot, she felt like she was on trial for murder, or something of the like. She managed a nervous smile, as she quickly dropped her had to her side, realizing that she was still biting her nails. Very unladylike. Plus it was bad for her or something.
" New friend?" Darry said faintly, paling as he took in the sight of the woman standing on his porch.
" Hi," Sherry finally managed, thrusting her hand forward, " I'm Sherry Valence."
That only served to make him pale some more. Another man came to the door, with a questioning look on his gorgeous features. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and looked down at Kal. He ruffed his hair a bit and frowned.
" Did you get into a fight?" the man asked.
Uncle Darry kept staring.
" No," Kal said stubbornly, " I fell down!"
" Again?" A voice drawled from inside the house.
Kal rolled his eyes and grinned as another man came up, behind the blonde man and Uncle Darry.
" Uncle Pony!" Kal exclaimed, launching himself into the arms of one Uncle Pony.
Sherry refused to believe that this was reality. Of course, she hadn't seen the worst of it yet.
" You fell? How come you always lie to poor old Uncle Sodapop?" Uncle Pony asked, lifting the kid up and jerking his head in the direction of the blonde man.
Sodapop?!?!
" This is my friend, Sherry Valence," Kal said, beaming despite his split lip.
Sherry was beginning to get nervous. These men were all gawking at her. Slack-jawed, bug-eyed, and white as ghosts. You'd think they'd never seen a prostitute before. She pulled her sweater around her tighter, and was considering making a run for it when two other men walked up behind the immobile trio of men in the doorway.
One had an extremely faded Mickey Mouse shirt, and the other was just finishing off a can of beer when he choked. The man who choked whistled long on low. His dark hair was greased up in thick, complicated swirls, and his even darker eyes roamed her body.
" Glory…" he muttered, fixated on Sherry.
" Well, Plato on a cracker, look who it is!" the man in the Mickey Mouse shirt exclaimed softly.
Kal took a hold of Sherry's hand and dragged her inside, pushing past his uncles intent on heading to the kitchen.
" Wait a minute!" The uncles and Sherry said simultaneously.
" What?" Kal said, casting a glance around the room.
There was a man with white blonde hair and arctic ice eyes, glowering at the T.V., seated in a worn recliner. There was a heavy tension in the room, and Sherry, unable to stop herself, began biting her nails again, not being able to think of another way to relieve the jitters she was experiencing. Kal didn't even stop her. He was looking at the man who was watching T.V.
The man in the Mickey Mouse shirt bolted over to him, and Uncle Sodapop held back Uncle Darry, who looked ready to deck the man into the house next door.
" Two-Bit!" Uncle Darry shouted as the man began shaking the seated man, " don't excite him! You know what the doctors said-"
Holy Mother of Christ they housed a psycho-maniac! Sherry wanted to run, but the exchange between this man called "Two-Bit" and the one with the arctic eyes stopped her.
" Hey Dallas, look who it is!" Two-Bit said excitedly.
Dallas fixed his steely glare on Two-Bit, and then on Sherry. She felt herself squirm as she was scrutinized, and she felt sure at least one of her nails was bleeding.
" Who?" Dallas asked indifferently.
" Don't you know her?" Two-Bit persisted, looking as if he was going to wet his pants.
Dallas looked over at Sherry again and grinned wickedly. " No, but I sure wish I did."
" But you do know her," Two-Bit continued.
" I do? Well hot damn, this keeps getting better and better."
" Dallas," Two-Bit said bracingly, making an effort to subdue himself, "It's Cherry."
End Chapter