trapped in a soda can (sodapop x reader)

Give My Love to Rose

When I woke up, I saw two people standing over a pristine white bed; it took about ten minutes to register that those two people were my parents, and another ten minutes to realize I was in a hospital. There was no way I couldn't recognize the point blank walls and the snow white covers.

"Hi," I croaked, my voice sounding as hellish as ever.

My parents were immediately summoned to me at the sound of my voice.

"You're alright!"

"Of course she is."

"My love, what happened?"

"You weren't thinking!"

Their voices were overlapping each other, hardly understandable. They said this and that, switched emotions faster than a lightbulb, and Mother even shed a tear for some reason. Out of all honesty, I was only half listening, when my dad had said,
"He sure is a charmer, ain't he?"

Now paying attention I looked up. "Who?" I asked.

"Sodapop Curtis. I won't ever forget such a name."

"Such a pleaser too," my mom added.

Mother told me how two boys came to visit me regularly for the past day or two, both extremely handsome and kind. I gave her a somewhat unamused look, but I knew deep down that the two were indeed handsome. She added how her and Father had initially  hated them, shouting at them for not "taking care of me properly." But Sodapop had worked some magic, and it seemed to work because here we were, talking about them.

"But you're grounded for a month."

Father ended the story on such a sour note.

"What?" I half exclaimed.

"You can't hang around boys, especially ones drop dead gorgeous. Especially at THIS age…" He went on about dating and such, and I felt annoyed with a twinge of anger. In an attempt to drown him out, I squeezed my eyes shut and repeatedly plugged and unplugged my ears. Something must've gone wrong though, because after a few more shuts and plugs, I fell asleep cold.

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When I came back, I was back at home, laying on my bed all alone. I ran a hand down my side where the stitches apparently were. They were there alright.

Pushing myself up, I decided to phone Pony. Both my parents had gone to work, and I had the whole house to myself. I threw some Johnny Cash vinyl onto my dad's record player, and dialed up Pony's number.

The receiver picked up on the other end.

"Pony!" I enthusiastically said into the phone. "Man, what happened on Saturday?"

To my surprise, Pony's voice didn't reply. Instead it was a deeper, older voice; Sodapop.

"Pony's not home right now," Soda said, in a kind but slightly amused voice. "He's at school."

I checked the time. It was around 10 am, when the first period dragged on slowly. That meant I was absent from class; this never crossed my mind until now, and I was quite content with the hole in my side that spared me from a Monday morning.

"Oh."

There was a brief silence, Johnny Cash just belting his soul out in the background. Finally, Sodapop spoke up, "I'd be more than happy to tell you what happened."

"You're making it sound like me getting my side ripped was a good thing," I jokingly remarked.

"Sorry."

He told me everything that was relayed to him by Ponyboy; Bob and Ape-face, my ball of spit, us running off. They had guessed that I cut myself on the broken chain fence that stood unattended, because a part of my sweater was there, and scarlet drops seemed to trail in a line. Apparently, a whole lot of blood seemed to trail off, leading right to the back fence of the Curtis house. This, of course, embarrassed me. Did I accidentally cause a scene?

Sadly, I did.

"There was a group of police who came on by, asked what the blood was about," Sodapop explained from the other end of the phone. "Told them that a friend of ours got cut on a fence, and that you was in the hospital, getting stitches. They didn't believe us at first, but decided to change their minds 'cuz they left us and went right on back to the station."

I found myself laughing as I imagined the scene, Ponyboy white with fear for a crime he didn't commit, Dallas or something hitting his back for acting so suspicious.

"Ah, well I gotta run on over to the DX now. Steve's gonna be furious."

"I see." It was a shame to end the conversation. "I should head on back to bed or something. My head's killing me."

My head was perfectly fine. I felt somewhat guilty at that moment; this was just an attempt to try and make it seem like I too had something to do.

"You rest that head up. Take care dolly."

The dial tone echoed in my ear as he hung up. Dolly? I felt myself go red at the nickname.

Dolly was so utterly stupid that it was sweet, and I found myself standing by the phone, jaw half open, while Give My Love to Rose began to play.