A Girl in New York (Pre/Sequel to The Outsiders: A Girl in the Gang)

Chapter 7- My Great Lie-Fest

        “Look who finally showed up,” Steve remarked as we walked in the door.

        “I was wondering why you guys didn’t stop at the DX.  You get a detention again, Two-Bit?” Soda asked.

        It was much worse than a simple detention, but I replied, “Like you really missed us all that much anyways,” in my usual sarcastic tone.

        “Yeah, you’re right.  You can leave again,” Steve said in a sarcastic tone as well, pretending to agree with me.

        I was about to smart off to him when Dally noticed Johnny holding his arm. He was still cradling it close to his chest.  I knew he was trying to hide how much it hurt.

        “What’s with your arm, Johnnycake?” Dally asked, and Johnny successfully kept his face impassive as I began my great lie-fest.

        “A Soc plowed him over in gym class and he landed on his arm wrong.  The nurse checked it out, that’s what we were waiting for, and she thinks it might be broken so we should probably go to the hospital,” I explained, and no one knew I was lying but Johnny.

        “All right, Johnny, get in the truck,” Darry told him, grabbing the keys.

        “Which Soc was it?” Dally asked, that feral look flashing in his pale blue eyes like he was about to kill.

        I gave Johnny a look, he had to answer this one or they’d get suspicious.

        “I-I don’t know.  I couldn’t really tell, he just ran into me,” Johnny answered quietly.

        Good answer, I thought.  Johnny must be picking up something from me, he could tell a believable lie and keep a straight face.

        “I’m coming with,” Dally said.

        “Fine.  It’s probably only broken, nothing too serious,” Darry replied, and we all knew what he meant by that compared to all the other times Johnny’d gotten hurt.

        As they headed out the door, I flopped down on the couch, and of course Two-Bit had taken control of the remote and we were watching Mickey Mouse.  We watched that so much I was amazed I still liked it.

        About an hour later Darry called the house.  Soda answered, and after he hung up he came into the living room with an unreadable expression on his face to tell us the news.

        “It was broken,” Sodapop started, sounding a bit glum. “He shattered it in one spot, and they’re doing surgery right now to fix the bone or something,” he explained.

        “You think he’ll be okay?” Pony asked immediately.

        “Yeah.  It’s a broken bone.  Minor surgery and a cast for a couple of months and he should be fine,” I said, entirely sure of myself. 

        Everyone else got all worried if this kind of stuff happened to one of us, but I didn’t see it as a big deal.  A broken bone wasn’t fatal, I knew Johnny’d be fine soon enough. And I was always right when I said things would be fine.

        Around eight at night, they all came home.  Johnny had a big white plaster cast on his arm, and it looked like his arm had been swallowed by a giant club.  He looked pretty drowsy, I’m assuming from the drugs, and immediately he crashed on the couch.

        “Did it go good or bad, cause I can’t tell,” Two-Bit asked, glancing at Johnny sleeping.

        Darry shrugged and replied, “It was good.  They drugged him up a lot though.  He’s got some really strong painkillers.”

        “He’ll be all right though?” Pony asked again, sounding worried. 

        He was almost as upset as Dally about Johnny being hurt, and I wondered how mad they would have been if I’d told them the truth about what had happened.  How it was really three Socs attacking him and how I’d busted one of them up pretty bad, and I was going to get sent to reform school because of it. 

        Yeah, it’d be better to stick to my lies.  They’d never failed me before, as far as I could remember.

        “Quit freaking out, he’s not going to die or anything,” I replied evenly, because I honestly wasn’t worried. At least not about that.

        Ponyboy sighed but didn’t say anything else.

        Soon after, we left.  Darry said that he’d make sure Johnny was okay and call us if anything happened.  Dally was freaking out—or freaking out and trying to hide it—about Johnny, like he was in a coma and might die rather than just sleeping on the Curtis’s couch cause he had strong painkillers for his broken arm.

        He said nothing to me on our walk home, and I said nothing to him as well.  For once we weren’t mad at each other, we just had nothing to say.  Or more so nothing we wanted to say, at least in my case.

        I wasn't going to tell him the truth about what really happened, ever.