Chapter 10
"I'm amazed at your progress," my teacher says. "I bet you've already forgotten that you're from the future."
"Yeah... I guess I have. But when can I go home?" I ask.
"Would you like to?"
"I don't know. Maybe..."
"We'll have to see. Your time here is far from over. There's so much more you must witness before ever considering going back," she says.
"Oh and why did you send me that letter?" I ask angrily. "I'm not too happy about that."
"I know, I know. It just happens to be a part of the sentence you're currently serving."
"Sentence? I'm being punished?"
"Well... Yes. You were spoiled, rude, and conceited before. I knew you were different though. Now you're selfless, polite, and a bit more outgoing in the right kind of ways. Way to get kicked out of the fair last night, by the way," she says. I laugh. That was pretty funny...
"But that doesn't tell me everything I need to know."
"What do you want to know?" she asks.
"Is my dad okay?"
"In the future, no. In the past, yes."
"Will I get another letter?"
"Actually, yes. You're due for one soon. Don't worry about that though," she explains. She then sighs heavily. "Look Ms. Thompson, I know this is very difficult for you to understand right now. In all due time, you'll understand everything perfectly. Until then, please try to have a good day, and don't think about me or your dream. Okay?"
"Fine. When will I hear from you again?" I ask. Her image begins to fade. Here we go again.
"Soon. Now wake up..."
•••
"Hey, Ponyboy?" I call in the empty house.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?"
"Sure," he calls back. He comes into the living room with a notebook and a small pencil. "What do you need these for?" he asks.
"I don't know. I'm gonna figure it out though." He smiles and sits across from me, bouncing his rubber ball yet again. I study his features as he watches the television at the same time.
I never realized how easy Ponyboy is to sketch until now. I really just wanted a pencil and some paper because I wanted to draw something that makes me happy. So I decide to draw him and his smile. I know it sounds cheesy, but I really think it'd be a cool thing to show off when I'm finished.
I glance at the TV and see the old classic Three Stooges. I used to watch this show with my dad when I was a little girl. I always found it amusing no matter what age I was. Ponyboy and I both laugh at the mischief and the stupid act of them in general.
I take this opportunity and remember the image of him with laughter captured on his face. I quickly sketch an outline before working on details. It's not true work. It's just something simple.
"Whatcha got there?" he asks.
"You'll see," I tell him. "Hang on a minute."
"Okay."
"Hey, what was Darry talking about last night?" I ask.
"Oh it's nothing."
"Ponyboy, don't you lie to me. I heard every word." He sighs.
"Tim Shepard called wanting to know when we're gonna have another rumble with them socs. Darry knows the socs know you by now. He's worried they'll kidnap you or something. Or worse, kill you. I don't know how he figures that but Darry thinks of everything."
"So y'all are always gonna be around?" I ask.
"We've never left you alone, really."
"I guess that's true..." I go back to sketching and finishing up some final touches.
"Darry's been different, don't you think?" he asks.
"Different how?"
"He doesn't yell at me much anymore. Since you've been around, almost not at all." I remember the day Darry and I talked about his mom and the memories. I remember I told him to try and understand Ponyboy for once. I guess he took my advice.
"Well that's a good thing, ain't it?" I ask.
"Well sure, but you wouldn't have something to do with it. Would you?"
"Me? Pft. No!" I answer sarcastically. "Yeah. I told him to understand you better. That's all."
"No one ever talks to Darry about stuff like that," he says.
"How come?"
"He's just not like that. He doesn't dig sunsets and all that kinda stuff. You know?"
"Ponyboy, let me tell you something. You think you might know Darry, but then again, maybe you really don't," I tell him, glancing up every so often from the paper. He watches me with concentration and meets my eyes when I look up.
"And Darry said he knew you were different from the start. He knew you were special. He admitted he was crazy to keeping you safe. He loves you, Pony. It's just not like in the way you'd expect it."
Ponyboy's voice replays in my head. "He just cares a little differently..." I remember when he referred to Dally that way. I never thought it'd turn on his brother like this. But it's true. We all care a little differently. Even if it doesn't seem that way, we really do.
"I guess you're right. If he's gonna do that for me, the least I could do is the same for him, right?" he asks.
"I guess you could. You gotta see that he's looking out for two kid brothers, hoping they don't get put into a boys' home. He's playing both roles of the parents, and he's maintaining a job and money all at once. Now you see why he cares?" I ask.
"Yeah. But only Soda would tell me about stuff like this. I never thought someone like you could. I guess I was wrong there too."
"We're only human, Ponyboy. People screw up sometimes." He laughs.
"Sometimes really bad... You know. I thought I could only tell Johnny and Soda about things like that."
"I couldn't tell anybody. I had no one who cared about stuff like that. My friends were socs. They were too blind to see stuff like sunsets and colors. I never noticed how pretty they really are until I talked to you," I tell him.
"I never noticed how socs could be different like you. It's impossible to tell you were a soc. I guess they ain't all the same. Maybe one or two are a little different."
"I guess so..." I put down the notebook, place the pencil on the page, close it, and slide it across the room to him. He opens it and examines the paper with wonder written on his face.
"I never noticed how much happiness there was without being a soc. You showed me that," I tell him.
"JT, this is really good. How'd you learn stuff like this?"
"Mom told me I have a gift."
"She sure wasn't lying," he says.
"I guess not. But you can keep that if you want to."
"Alright. Thanks," he says.
"Oh and I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I guess I tell you all my little secrets. You can't tell anyone, alright?" I ask. He nods.
"I won't."
"My real name is Jane Taylor, JT for short," I admit.
"Shoot, I knew it had to be something pretty sounding like that!" he says.
"How'd you figure that?"
"A nice girl like you should have a name like that. And your last name's Thompson, right?" I nod with a smile.
"Hey, do you wanna go get a Coke down at the Dingo?" he asks. "I can't stand being here all day. Too quiet."
"Sure. Let's get going." I watch as he puts the notebook back in his room. He playfully but politely opens the door for me. He shoves his hands in his jean pockets while I nervously pick at my fingers. I have a switchblade in my back pocket now. I really hope I don't have to use it.
Ponyboy's told me a couple times about the Dingo. People, mostly greasers, hang out there. Socs come to cause trouble. Most don't have all intentions focused on that though. It just happens.
We go inside, order two Cokes, and await any socs to mess with us. I'm really beginning to hope maybe Two-Bit, Dally, or even Johnny could come along and reassure me even more. With all this talk of possibly kidnapping or killing me, I'm scared to death.
"JT?" Ponyboy asks with concern.
"What?"
"Why are you so tensed up?"
"Well in case you forgot, I don't want to be kidnapped!" I say, lowering my voice to a whisper.
"You won't be. I'm right here watching and we both have a blade. We'll be fine."
"I hope so..."
"Dally got in trouble with the cops last night," he says, changing the subject. "He went out to Buck's or something after we got kicked out of there and stuff. All he did was get wise with 'em."
"Why am I not surprised?" I look past Ponyboy's shoulder to see some socs outside pushing around on some greaser. Pony follows my stare and looks behind him. He turns back with his head down. He shakes his head before looking back at me. He locks his gaze on me. I meet his eyes.
"I hate when they pick on us," I mumble.
"Yeah... You have... really... pretty eyes," he says slowly, mesmerized, like he's dumbfounded.
"Thanks. But I don't know what's so pretty about them. They're just blue and green."
"Well I ain't ever seen somebody with eyes like yours."
"No one's ever told me that. Probably 'cause I don't look like my mom or dad."
"I guess they're eyes all your own," he says.
"I guess so."
"Hey, greasers!" someone says across the room. I look up and see socs, surprise, surprise. But this time, they're girls. And not the goody-two-shoes people think they are.
"Hey," I answer. Ponyboy looks at me with wide eyes.
"What are you doing?" he asks quietly.
"Making friends. Watch this," I answer him in the same tone.
"What's a trampy girl like you doing around such a cutie?" Oh, now they're just indirectly flirting with Ponyboy. I can immediately tell he's freaked out from the look on his face.
"What's a rich girl like you doing talking to a greaser, huh?" I ask. She turns and sneers at me.
"I didn't ask you, okay?" she says, smacking her bubble gum.
"Actually you did."
She turns to her friends and scoffs. They laugh. "Ugh. I hate filthy animals like her," she says loud enough for me to hear.
"I'm sorry. I didn't get that. I don't speak soc."
She rolls her eyes at me and turns back to her friends again, but not before winking at Ponyboy. I gag a little.
"Oh, by the way. They use paint for houses, not your rat face," I add. The soc turns around with wide eyes and an open mouth. She looks offended. Good! It's working! I try to stifle my laughs as Ponyboy stares at me in disbelief.
"Uh... JT?" Ponyboy says.
"No, no, no. I've got this," I assure him.
"Shut your trap," she says.
"Oh I'm not done talking with you. You know, I wonder how many boys you've been with. You look like the type. Two-timing 'em, huh?" She stands up, infuriated by my comments. The soc continues standing there, her mouth open again. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head as she thinks of a comeback. It never comes.
"Why don't you just close your mouth, soc? You look pretty stupid just standing there. Try closing your legs while you're at it to, why don't ya?" I tell her. She screams, stomps her foot and goes to leave. "Oh no, no, no. You sit here," I tell her as we get up. I motion for her to sit down. She sits with a frown.
"You better leave me alone, ya hood," she says.
"You know, this is a real nice outfit. Too bad it's stained," I tell her sweetly.
"No it's- Ahh!" she screams as I tip over her Coke in her lap.
"That's what you get for being bitch," I tell her. "C'mon, Ponyboy. Let's get outta here."
"You're telling me. Manager's coming," he says. We begin running out the door and away from the socs and an irritated manager. We begin laughing as we slow down to a walk. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
"That was fun," I say.
"Yeah, you really showed her up," he says.
"You know, I used to be just like her. What was I thinking?"
"I don't know but I'm glad you ain't like that now." We continue walking aimlessly closer out of town. We stroll along talking until we see a figure leaning against the brick wall between an alley. Probably someone just running from some socs again. I look closer. It's not just someone though. It's... Dally.
I glance at Ponyboy. He has the same confused and scared expression as I do. We stop in our tracks and walk the opposite way until we're at the alley again. We run over to Dally. He moans and rolls his head to the side.
"Dally, what happened?" I ask with panic in my voice.
"Socs. There were too many of 'em. I couldn't fight them," he says slowly.
"Are you hurt too bad?" Ponyboy asks.
"I don't know. I'm dizzy and my face hurts," he complains. His cheekbone is bruised and he's bleeding from an open gash in his forehead. The blood rolls down to his lips. His upper lip is busted. It just doesn't even look like Dally.
I push his hair back to examine his cut. "How'd they do this?"
"Had a blade on 'em. Got me good didn't they?" he says.
"We need help. There ain't no way me and you can help him by ourselves," I tell Ponyboy.
"No, I don't want help, man. C'mon," Dally says.
"Dallas, it's no use."
"What about Soda and Steve? The DX ain't far from here," Ponyboy suggests.
"I don't know. He might not need it. Dally, can you walk? Me and Pony'll help you," I tell him.
"Yeah. Just get me up."
Ponyboy and I eventually pull Dally up on his feet. We walk on his sides as his arms around around both of us. We struggle but make it to Pony's house. He sits in the floor and complains with various curse words.
I wet a wash cloth and get the first aid kit. I remember when Johnny's dad busted a bottle on my back and Ponyboy was fixing me up. I guess it's my turn to play doctor on someone.
I sit in the floor by Dallas and gingerly wipe the blood from his face. I can tell he's clenching his jaw to hold back his complaints about the pain. I make him hold the wash cloth on the cut for a while until the bleeding stops.
"Why are you helping me?" he asks.
"You're my friend, ain't you?"
"I can take care of myself."
"Not this time, Dally. Even the toughest people get hurt. Now shut your trap and hold that cloth there," I tell him. He chuckles at my bossy behavior. I put small bandages on his forehead and give him an ice pack for his cheek.
"It's too cold," he says with a displeased tone.
"It's supposed to be. It's ice. Ice is cold, stupid."
"Hey, don't get wise."
"Like you did with the cops last night? And probably those socs. That's why you got in trouble and they beat you up?" I feel myself becoming snappy towards Dally now. I guess I'm aggravated he gets in trouble a lot. He just knows how to get under my skin, I guess.
"How'd you know?" he asks.
"I guessed. Except about last night. Ponyboy told me."
"Well I guess I was asking for it," he says.
"Why would you do that?"
"I don't know, man. Sometimes I think I should get beat up to remind me that I'm still a hood."
"Okay, Dal. I think they hit you a little too hard."
"No! Well, yeah. But you just don't get it," he says, giving up his thought.
"No I get it. You just ain't talking like yourself. Get some sleep or something."
"Whatever, JT." He lies down on the couch and rolls over, facing away from me. I sigh heavily and look outside on the porch. I find Ponyboy sitting on the steps talking to Johnny. So I stay inside and leave them to talk. If I were them, I'd get sick of having me around. I bet I get really annoying.
"Hey guys! What's- What happened to Dallas?" Soda asks, his enthusiasm dropping as he looks at Dally who's now asleep.
"He got jumped pretty bad. He was outnumbered," I answer like it's no big deal. Soda raises an eyebrow and goes into the kitchen.
"How come he didn't have a blade on him?" Darry asks as he walks inside.
"He probably lost it somewhere 'cause he's stupid sometimes," I answer, mumbling the last few words.
"I heard that," Dally says into the cushions.
"I guess everyone's mad at you today, Dal," Johnny tells him as he walks in the door. Dally rolls over and halfway smiles.
"Johnny, man. How you doing?"
"Alright."
"God, my face hurts! Damn socs!" Dally yells. I laugh quietly to myself.
"I've about had it with them," Soda says angrily.
"Tim'll call back sooner or later asking us to go on down there and have it out," Darry says.
I shake my head and go outside. I see Ponyboy still sitting on the steps. I lean on the porch rail behind him.
"Why do we fight all the time?" Ponyboy asks.
"Us and the socs?" He nods. "Because we don't know how to not fight. They can't accept that we're people too."
"I really hate socs," he mumbles. "But it sure is funny telling 'em off." I laugh.
"Hey, she was asking for it. And besides. I could've said worse." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, who drew this?" Soda's voice calls within the house. I look at Ponyboy and smile.
"Looks like they found your masterpiece," he says.
"Well, I know Ponyboy wouldn't draw himself. Heck he can't draw at all," Soda says.
"JT!" Darry calls. Ponyboy gets up from the steps and helps me up. We go inside as I follow behind him. Everyone, even Dally, is staring at me as I walk inside.
"What?" I ask innocently.
"You never told us you could draw like this," Soda says, holding up the notebook.
"Well I can. Now you know."
"Today is just not right," Johnny mumbles.
"It's really good. You got a real talent there," Darry says.
"Yeah. They could send you to a real good school in the city for stuff like this," Soda adds. "And it looks just like Pony!"
"It's kinda weird how real it looks," Johnny says.
"It does. It's like looking at a real Ponyboy," Soda replies with a laugh. I smile as they admire my work.
"Hey guys!" Two-Bit calls from outside, pretty much announcing his arrival. "Y'all might wanna see this!" We look confusedly at each other with concern on our faces. We all hurry to the porch, except for Dally. He limps most the way. We see a Mustang creeping down the road just looking for trouble.
"Should we chase 'em off?" Steve asks. He must've come with Two-Bit and stood on the porch while we were inside.
"If they get out of the car," Darry answers. The windows are rolled down and we see the socs scouting for a fight somewhere.
"How many can you see?" Dally asks from behind all of us.
"Four," I answer.
"Are you sure?" Soda asks.
"Yeah, pretty sure." The car pulls up in front of the yard. They stop, spit and throw things at us, and then drive off cackling.
"So long greasers!" one calls out the window. Two-Bit flips them off. I roll my eyes at their stupid behavior. We all go back inside as the phone rings. Darry answers and stays on it for a long time. I sit in the floor between Johnny and Soda and we get out a deck of cards. I don't have a clue what game we're playing though. We're just making it up as we go.
Darry comes back after about twenty maybe thirty minutes on the phone. He smiles a little.
"Y'all free next Saturday night?" he asks.
"Why? Who was on the phone?" Two-Bit asks.
"Tim Shepard called again. We got ourselves a rumble."