Soda dropped his hand on the steering wheel of our old Dodge pickup truck and started tapping his thumb to the beat of the song he was blaring as we pulled out of the parking lot. The music was too loud but I didn't say as much. Instead, I looked out the window at the grey buildings and sidewalks as we passed them. I couldn't remember everything being so grey and dull before. It seemed like the world just used to be more colorful. Darry and the rest of our siblings were in the Ford coup behind us and I watched in the rearview as they turned off onto Hardwick Boulevard to head home without us.
"Jimmy said he'd let you off early tonight since you ain't been feelin' so well" Soda informed me loudly, still drumming his thumb on the wheel as he bobbed his head. He looked over at me for a response and I nodded slightly and gave him a small smile. It wasn't worth trying to talk. He'd never be able to hear me anyway. Still, he kept his eyes on me for a moment as though he were waiting for something and then sighed and returned his focus to the road. "Michael was asking for you" he tried again, this time turning the radio down so he could speak at a normal volume. "I think he really likes you." I nodded quietly and turned to the window again. He knew I didn't like Michael. I couldn't figure out why he kept pushing him on me.
A set of leafless grey trees passed by us, then a brownish grey telephone pole and some more grey buildings with dingey signs on top. My eyes searched for some color but even the blues and greens in the signs were too covered in dirt to be anything but dull.
"June" Soda sighed. "I think it would do you some good to go out on a date." I looked at him and scrunched my eyebrows slightly. "Nothing heavy" he asserted. "You know, just go out to dinner or let him take you to a movie or something" I imagined myself awkwardly sitting across the table from Michael, neither of us speaking, and my resolve to avoid this date solidified. "He seems like a decent guy" Soda continued. "And he makes his own money. Even tipped me for fixin' his Chevy the other day. He's the only customer I have who tips."
"I'll think about it" I lied. But I didn't have to lie. Soda always saw through me anyway. He sighed again and dropped his hand off the wheel and into his lap.
"Ok" he said defeatedly, hearing my real answer.
I was a few minutes early when Soda dropped me off at Maybell's for my shift. He raised a hand out the window and waved to some girls in the parking lot as I leaned forward, grabbing my bag and folding my uniform over my elbow.
"I'll call you" I said unnecessarily. I didn't need to say it. He knew by now that I'd call when I was ready to be picked up, but somehow it just made me feel better to have him affirm it anyway. It was sort of like testing the lifeline before jumping into the ocean.
"You know, you're making us all look real bad by showing up early all the time" my co-worker, Diane, teased as she strapped an apron around her waist and slid a pencil behind her ear. She checked her cleavage, then began stuffing the bottom of her breasts up higher so they'd peek out from the v of her checkered button up shirt.
"Nah, she's only been here a week" Courtney retorted with a friendly wink in my direction. "Give it some time. She'll hate it soon enough and then someone will have to drag her in here by her ear like the rest of us."
"Ain't that the truth" Diane added grimly. She raised a metal napkin dispenser and checked her bouncy blonde curls in the reflection, puckering her cherry red lips for added effect.
"Hey did Sodapop tell ya?" Courtney asked with an eyeful of disgust. "That creepoid was in here looking for you again, June. Went right up to Soda while he was eatin' breakfast with that pretty blonde girl of his..."
"Sandy" Diane inserted.
"Right, Sandy. Went right up to him and started asking about ya right in the middle of their meal. Asked Soda what shift you were workin' today. I wouldn't be surprised if he's in the dining room right now lookin' for you."
"Which guy is this?" Diane asked, probably intrigued with the fact that a guy was into me and not her.
"Tall, dark, and handsome with the bomber jacket. Three eggs over easy on wheat toast with a side of sausage and a stack of pancakes to go." Diane thought back to the orders of our regulars and then a glint of recognition sparkled in her eyes.
"Ohhhh, you mean Michael?" she chirped. "He ain't no creep. He's gorgeous if you ask me."
"Looks ain't everything you tramp" Courtney mocked, slapping Diane with the dry dishrag she had in her hand. "He stares at her like she's food or somethin'. It's gross." Diane grinned.
"I'd let him eat me."
My face flushed as the two of them broke out into a laugh and then chittered away into the dining room to start taking orders. The layer of stress I usually felt in social situations eased up slightly as they moved away from me. They hadn't even noticed that I hadn't said a word to them. It was a relief but somehow also a disappointment that I could be so utterly insignificant to a conversation.
I observed them from behind the kitchen door for a moment, wondering why I was so different from all the other girls from my neighborhood. I was a greaser. I was Darry Curtis' sister for God's sake. Darry was sort of the unofficial leader of the gang. For a greaser, that was the equivalent of being in the royal family or the Kennedy family or something. But I didn't dress like greaser girls or act like them, and I certainly didn't talk like them.
Greaser girls drank and swore and smoked too much and only dated men who drank and swore and smoked too much too. Where we were from, the boys were instantly recognizable by their long, greasy hair. For the girls, it was in the wardrobe. Tight pants, pencil skirts, blouses that weren't buttoned up nearly high enough, or V necks with a neckline so deep you could see the tops of lacy bra's peeking out.
I got to hide behind the fact that Darry wouldn't allow me or River to dress that way. Emma was too old to set rules for and she made it clear that she'd wear what she wanted. Darry's rules never applied to her anyway. But River and I lived under a strict set of guidelines when it came to wardrobe and River was constantly protesting or sneaking a change of clothes to school. I pretended to take issue with it too but I was pretty sure even Darry could see right through it. Dressing like a greaser would have just made me feel like I was wearing a costume. Which was confusing in its own right because I was one. But even among misfits I was a misfit.
I was also, admittedly, a terrible waitress. An hour into my shift I had already fumbled two orders and dropped a plate on my way to a table. I wasn't sure how I hadn't been fired yet, but I assumed it was because the owner, Jimmy, was a friend of Soda's.
"Juniper, table two, he called out to me tiredly from behind the register. "Come on sweetheart, get with the program."
I snapped out of my daydream and tightened the strings of my apron, letting the door swing closed behind me as I made my way into the dining room. The first of the dinner crowd was already starting to file in and pepper the booths and tables around me. I made my way over to the booth by the far window, taking note of a head of dark greasy hair across from a blonde ponytail that was bopping side to side to the music. She snapped her gum as I came into view and the boy looked up at me.
"Welcome to Maybell's, can I take your order?"
"Sure can, doll" Dallas Winston said, pulling the menu away from his face and grinning at me. I let out a breath and tried not to let my face pull into a reaction. "How's it goin' Junie?" I gripped the pencil tighter.
"Fine, Dally" I stuttered. I had tried to sound confident but failed miserably. Dally just had that effect on me. As much as I felt like I didn't fit in under normal circumstances, being near Dallas Winston was like throwing a magnifying glass over my differences so that they all stood out in bold, clear detail.
It stood to reason that I should have felt like I fit in at least more than Dally. Unlike the rest of us who had been friends since we were little kids and shared a certain bond and comradery because of it, Dally had grown up in the streets of New York City and had only moved to Tulsa a few years before, after getting out of prison for a crime none of us ever dared to question. He was one of us, a greaser, but also starkly unlike us. Where we were angry and full of bitterness, Dally was cold and uncaring. Where our fear for the law and consequences kept us within certain limits, Dally was fearless and boldly intolerant of authority. He was heartless and broken in a way none of the rest of us were. It was obvious whatever life he had led in New York had damaged something deep in him and hardened him beyond reach.
He had entered the gang by way of Johnny Cade, who was opposite of Dally in every way other than hair grease and posture. Johnny was sensitive and full of emotion. He was overwhelmingly lost and lonely and he looked to unfeeling Dallas with such reverence, it was hard to miss the connection he was subconsciously trying to make to his own calloused and neglectful father. Dally was a protective and steadfast hero to have but he couldn't offer anything in return. There was no rattling him, not with fear or with love, because he didn't feel any of it. It was his lack of connection to anything and anyone that made him dangerous. In my mind, there was nothing more dangerous in Tulsa than a greaser with nothing to lose.
I took in his sharp features and the icy eyes that were piercing into me and swallowed, trying to muster up a tone that would sound at least somewhat confident.
"What would you like?"
"Just the usual, princess" he said holding the menu out for me.
"And for you?" I asked the blonde across the booth.
"She ain't hungry" Dallas answered for her. "Just get her a Coke."
I tucked my notebook into the front pocket of my apron and nodded, turning to head back to the kitchen when Dally called out to me.
"Hey, June." I winced and turned on my heels. "You missed a button on your blouse darlin'. It ain't coverin' your whole chin."
The blonde across from him broke out into a bubbly laugh and I reddened and turned back towards the kitchen again. An energy flashed in my chest that made my hands shake and as soon as I was out of view of the dining room I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.
"When I feel blue" I sang quietly to myself. "In the night, and I need you to hold me tight. Whenever I want you all I have to do is dream. Dream, dream, dream." It was the Everly Brothers song mom used to sing to me when I was little and it always helped to calm me down. I imagined leaning back in her lap as the chair rocked back and forth, creaking lightly in the moonlight. Her long hair draped around me as she rested her head on mine, and the muffled vibration of her voice as I leaned my head against her chest, comforted by the steady heartbeat at my cheek. For a moment I stood there, eyes closed and singing lightly, just imagining myself safe in mom's arms until the anxiety began to slowly release me from its grip. Then I took a breath, glancing around and feeling the heartache stab through me as I returned to reality.
All l I wanted, above all else except mom and dad coming back, was to be normal again. To not be rattled by people like Dallas Winston. To know how to be part of a conversation again without feeling completely out of place. Somehow it seemed too far out of reach. Everything about getting through life right now just felt like going through the motions, trying to blend in. Soda promised me it would get better. He had never broken a promise to me, ever, so I had to believe it was true.
I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my apron as I walked over to the kitchen and then fished the notepad out, tearing off the top page and clipping it to the carousel on the counter in front of me.
"Order up" I strained to give my voice enough volume to hear over the clanging of spoons on pots and pans in the kitchen just beyond the wall. Everything in me wanted to call Soda so I could get home but I took a steadying breath, thought about the bills that needed to be paid, and smoothed out my apron as I made my way back out into the dining room.
"Your lover boy's here" Diane said with a teasing smile as she passed me. I spun around to her in a somewhat panicked confusion. She merely winked at me and turned back towards the kitchen and for a moment I wondered if she was talking about Dally. Then it hit me.
"Welcome to Maybell's. Can I take your order?" I muttered to Michael as I stood in front of the small, rickety table where he had seated himself just feet away from Dally's booth.
"Hi Junie" he drawled with a thick Alabama accent. "My, you're lookin' about as perty as a sun covered daisy glistenin' with fresh mornin' dew." I froze with my pencil pressed to the notepad and stared at him. What did that even mean?
"Thank you" I responded unsurely. "What can I get for you?"
"Well, I'm not really sure what I'm in the mood for. What do you recommend?"
Dally's voice cut into our conversation.
"Hey, June."
"Our special today is the bacon burger" I said, scribbling across the top of the page so Dally would get the hint that I was busy.
"Junie", he repeated louder. Michael leaned back in his seat and peered over at Dally, then set his chair back on the floor.
"Okay, I'll take one of those and maybe some of that sweet cherry pie Maybell's so famous for."
"And to drink?" He peered down at the menu again just as a hand pulled at my elbow from behind. I jumped nearly a mile and spun around.
"What?!" I demanded. I felt my face flush. I hadn't meant to yell. It had just come out. Dallas eyed me for a moment as thought he was deciding between reactions and then a crooked grin tugged at his lips.
"Your brother's here" he said nodding towards the door. He looked me up and down and chuckled a little and I glanced up to see Pony waving at me meekly from the entrance. My heart stopped. Something had to be wrong.
"I'll be right back" I whispered in a tight strain to Michael, pushing my way past some customers who were taking their seats.
"Pony? What is it?" I asked, touching his face and looking him over. "What's wrong? Is it Darry? Soda?" He shook his head and pulled my hand off his cheek with a confused look on his face. "Oh, God. It's River isn't it? Did she get in another fight?"
"Juniper" he squeezed my hand with a small smile. "Relax, everything's ok." I blinked at him, taking a second to let that dissolve my irrational fear.
"You're ok?" I asked, looking him over again. He looked at me sadly and nodded and I tried not to see the pity in his eyes.
"I'm ok" he said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Darry told me to come by."
"Darry?"
He raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Yeah" he said pointedly. "Darry asked me to come by." It took me a second but then I got it. If there was nothing to put on the table Darry would send someone to pick up food. Jimmy had agreed to put it on a tab and take it out of my check at the end of every week.
"Oh, right" I said taking in a sharp breath. "Ok. I'll go put something in. Just let me finish with this customer first, ok?" He nodded with a bleak smile and I took him in for another second to convince myself fully that he was ok.
"Oh, and June?" I stopped walking and turned back to him.
"Yeah?"
"Johnny's stayin' over too." I nodded.
"Ok. I'll add an extra plate." I said with a small smile.
I was glad Johnny was staying over. Johnny's parents were drunks and, on the nights when the drinking was really bad, he would stay out in the vacant lot across from the park or sleep at our house to avoid the beatings that always came with their intoxication. He was Pony's best friend but I enjoyed his company probably just as much as Ponyboy did. Johnny was quiet and soft spoken and he had a way of bringing out the best in the rest of the guys. The protective, compassionate side. Even Dally controlled his temper around him.
"Sorry" I muttered to Michael, trying to hold the pencil steady in my hand as I shook off the last of the adrenaline from Pony's arrival. "And what to drink?"
He smiled up at me, holding the menu out. "I didn't know you and Sodapop had another brother." I took a breath and mustered up my best friendly tone.
"Yeah" I breathed. "Three brothers and two sisters." His eyes widened.
"There's six of you? Boy howdy, you'd think your parents would have picked up a different hobby after the third or fourth" he laughed at his own joke. I stiffened but didn't say a word as Dally's eyes moved to our table.
"What would you like to drink?" I repeated weakly. Michael took in my expression and leaned back in his chair.
"Oh, I'm sorry darlin'. I didn't mean nothin' by that." He forced a smile that put me on guard. "Soda told me what happened to your folks. I was just makin' a little joke, that's all. Tryin' to lighten things up."
"It's fine" I said with the aftertaste of the lie burning in my mouth.
"It's a shame what happened to them" he said shaking his head and not reading my clearly visible discomfort. I looked to the kitchen, wondering again about just quitting and walking out the door. There was a rising urgency in me that was telling me to run. "They ever find the guy that..."
"Hey" Dally's voice broke into the conversation. Michael turned to face him, obviously taking offense to the tone Dally had used. Dally's eyes were like stone. My mother had been the closest thing Dallas had ever experienced to having a mother and he never let anyone talk about her now that she was gone. "Why don't you shut your trap about her folks" he warned. Michael's eyes turned to me and then back at Dallas.
"Well, she don't seem bothered by it. Why don't you mind your business, tough guy?" I closed my eyes and let out a breath. You just don't stay stuff like that to Dallas Winston. I heard him stand up behind me.
"She don't need to be bothered by it" he sneered. "I'm bothered by it." There was a certain glimmer in his eyes. He was anticipating a fight and there was nothing Dally liked more than a fight. Me on the other hand, I hated them.
"Dally, it's ok" I mumbled weakly. He ignored me and took a step forward as Michael pushed his chair back and stood up too.
"We got a problem?" he asked Dal, rolling his shoulders back and returning the blood lust expression.
"We don't got a problem" he retorted with a slight grin. "You got the problem." Michael laughed.
"I've got a problem?" he condescended. "What's my problem?"
Darry's eyes narrowed. He dropped his voice to a tone that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'm your problem."
The blonde in the booth leaned back with a satisfied smile on her face. Girls loved to watch Dallas in action. They all seemed to get some kind of a thrill out of it. I couldn't understand why. To me, it was terrifying.
Pony had noticed the tension between the two of them and was suddenly at my side, moving me away with his forearm as he stared down Michael too. He had no idea what was happening. He hadn't heard a word of the conversation and didn't need to. The gang always had each other's backs, and part of the code of being a greaser was you never let your friends fight alone. You always jumped in. No questions asked. Sometimes this would cause awful beatings when it was three or four against one. Most people knew not to pick fights with us unless we were out of our own territory, then we'd be less likely to have friends around. But Michael hadn't lived in Tulsa long enough to have learned that rule and I felt a sickening pity start to well up in my stomach for him.
I turned to Dally to try to calm him down just as Michael suddenly muttered something under his breath that flashed a fire in Dally's eyes. Everything next happened so fast but seemed slowed down somehow at the same time. I stepped in front of Dallas, his hand had already swung forward to connect with Michael but he hadn't anticipated my movement and in one sharp crack, I felt the impact of his knuckles against my cheek and the world suddenly went black.
~Juniper Beatrice and Sodapop Patrick~