It was getting late, and most of the greasers left with their dates. Soon we were the only ones left in the bar besides the bartender. Darry, his arm around my waist still, started to glance toward the door and gave Soda a few looks, but Soda ignored him and shotgunned another beer. It was time to get going, though; a few times I caught Ponyboy barely suppressing a yawn.
I was about to ask everyone when they wanted to go back home when two older greasers sidled in behind the bar from a side entrance. They were rough-looking, with tanned, tattooed skin and firm muscles etched with scars. They wore leather jackets and worn military grade boots and each had a wicked knife strapped to his belt. They immediately smiled in our direction with doglike smiles.
"Hey, Curly. Hey, Tim," Darry greeted them coolly. Two-Bit and Soda also gave them smiles of welcome, but there was something wary about their expressions that made me uneasy. I had never seen the gang act afraid before; even when they had taken on the Socs in my defense, they hadn't shown the slightest bit of intimidation. There was an air of uneasiness in the air as the two greasers made their way towards us.
"Hey, there, Curtis, Curtis, and Curtis," the taller of the two said, nodding at the three of them and smirking.
"Tim. What've you been up to?" Two-Bit asked as the two of them shook hands firmly.
"Nothin' much. Haven't seen y'all around here lately," Tim said. "You forget about us?" He looked at Ponyboy and Bryon.
Darry's arm tightened around me for a quick second. "Well, ever since Dally died we haven't been really around much," he agreed.
"Yeah, poor kid." Tim didn't sound too sorry, though.
I wondered privately who this Dally guy was, and how he had died. I made a mental note to ask Darry later.
"I heard you got in a rumble today," the shorter one, Curly, said abruptly. "With the Carreros over some broad. Arnie Carrero was talking shit to a buddy of mine."
"Not some broad," Darry said. "But yes."
Curly's eyes swept me up and down, rightly presuming that I was the broad who had instigated the rumble. "Ah. I see. Not some broad, your broad."
"I don't believe we've met the lady yet, Curly," Tim interrupted as Darry opened his mouth angrily, taking his hand off of my waist and balling it into a fist. "Keep yourself civil for a few seconds." He gave me the smile of a wolf. "I'm Tim Shepard. Co-owner of this fine establishment and leader of the baddest gang of greasers this side of the Arkansas River. Very pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," Curly said quickly. "I'm Curly Shepard, the real leader of the gang and other co-owner of this bar."
"I'm Diana Jean," I introduced myself, shaking each of their hands. I didn't like how they felt under my palm; instead of the hard strength and gentleness of Darry's workworn fingers, they were all thick tendons and lethal muscle. It wasn't hard for me to imagine those same hands strangling someone's neck or stabbing a knife deep into a person. I snatched my hand away after a polite amount of time.
"Well, as I said, it is a pleasure," Tim purred.
"We should get going," Two-Bit said.
"We should." Darry's voice was carefully controlled steel. "It's been fun, boys."
The corners of Tim's mouth quirked up, more of a spasm than a smile. "Glad we could entertain you," he said.
"Have a good one," Curly added.
I followed Soda and Steve out of the bar, risking a glance back at the Shepard brothers. They were both watching us leave intently as we walked out, and I turned my back on them.
As we piled into the car, the chatter started to buzz again. Ponyboy didn't join in; he stared out the window at the dark Tulsa streets and slowly began to nod off. Two-Bit and Soda were loud and boisterous, so obviously he'd had a few drinks. Darry hadn't even touched a drop as far as I'd seen. Maybe he was too embarrassed from the previous night, when he'd been too drunk to think straight.
"That was fun," I sighed, remembering how Darry and I had danced to that slow song.
"Yeah, it was," Darry said. I wondered if he was remembering it, too. His shoulders relaxed, and his grip on the steering wheel became less suffocating.
"You'd say so, Darry," Soda coughed.
"What?" Darry squinted at him in the rearview mirror.
"Well, I mean, you and Diana looked pretty cozy," he noted wickedly. Two-Bit wolf-whistled, and Bryon snickered. "Didn't you?"
"Little brother, who I dance with is my business," Darry threatened good-naturedly. "Keep your eyes to yourself."
The car erupted in laughter as I turned to stick my tongue out at Soda. The only one who I noticed didn't look particularly happy was Steve. He had a faint smile on his face, but he was staring out the window with a hard look in his eye. I hoped he didn't feel too badly about the situation... but I knew I should probably talk to him about it the next chance I got.
We got back to the Curtis house not long later, and the gang all trooped out of the car. Steve, Two-Bit, and Bryon said a few good-byes before heading off into the night. Darry shouted after them, asking if they wanted a ride home, but all of them declined. He shrugged and followed Pony and Soda into the house.
I was a little hungry, and evidently the three boys were hungry, too, because Soda got out some leftover chocolate cake and served up everyone a piece. We sat at the kitchen table and ate the cake, discussing the exhausting events of the day.
"Why were you even at the gas station, Diana?" Soda asked as he speared a big hunk of cake on his fork. "Didn't you have work?"
My spirits took a nosedive as I remembered discovering the picture underneath the bathroom sink and Mrs. Jean running me out of the house. "Oh. Well, I did. But I was told to leave."
Darry looked up at me, maybe hearing the catch in my voice. I shook my head at him almost imperceptibly: We'll talk later.
"Oh. That's kinda nice. Early dismissal," Soda said.
"Yeah, I guess." I pushed the cake around on my plate.
"That Arnie kid is the worst," Pony muttered darkly. "We have to see him every day at school, and he never has anything nice to say."
"Try to stay out of his way from now on," Darry advised. "He'll probably be angry that he lost the rumble and might take it out on you."
Just great. Now I had to worry about potentially getting jumped again even more. Would it ever stop? The jumping, the rumbles, the violence... It all continued in a never-ending circle that just kept repeating and no amount of blood spilled could ever satisfy. I took a large bite of cake to try to distract myself from those scary thoughts. It mostly worked.
Soda placed his chocolate-smeared plate in the sink and gave a huge yawn. "It's been a long day. I'm gonna go to bed," he said, glancing at the clock. It was 11:45.
"I'm gonna go to bed now, too," Ponyboy said. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand sleepily.
"You coming?" Soda asked Darry.
"I'll be in in a little while. I'm not tired yet," Darry told him as he put his plate on the counter.
"I see," Soda said cunningly. Darry rolled his eyes at him.
The two of them went into the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Darry and I alone in the kitchen.
"So," Darry said, crossing over to the back door and opening it. "Why were you told to leave your job?" He pulled out a Camel from his jeans pocket and lit it.
"It was my grandmother's house." I crossed my arms; the cool air wafting in from the open door raised goosebumps on my bare skin.
He turned to look at me, surprise evident on his face. "Your grandmother? But wouldn't she be happy to see you?"
"I guess not. Apparently, my father was a greaser, and she hated my guts the second I was born. I wasn't Soc enough for her, I guess," I said softly.
"That's ridiculous." Darry shook his head. He smoked in silence for a second, so I let him think. The puffs of smoke he exhaled wreathed around his head like a halo of vice. "Did you find out who your father was, at least?"
"Yeah." I had been trying to keep my composure, but now I felt my throat constricting. "Some greaser named Charlie Hoffmeiner. I don't know where he is."
Darry looked at me like I was a ghost. "Did you say Charlie Hoffmeiner?"
"Yes. Why? Do you know him?" I asked him desperately.
"I used to." Darry let the smoke dribble out of his lips and sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.
"What do you mean, used to?"
"He was my dad's best friend. He used to be around all the time when I was younger. He had a wife.... Good God, that was probably your mother. This whole time, I never put it together. She was a Soc; my dad always teased him about it. They were in the army together. I never... but the two of them moved away. Your mother and Charlie, I mean," Darry muttered in disbelief.
"D-do you know if he's still alive?" I asked him.
"I think he..." Darry looked up at me, his blue eyes sad. "I don't think so."
My heart plummeted. So this was where it ended; I was so close to finding my father, only to find out that he was dead anyway. "Oh." My voice was small. I thought about the picture I had found under the sink, of what could've been my real, whole family: my mother, my father, and my twin sibling.
"What happened to the other child?" I asked Darry, almost afraid of the answer. "Do you know?"
Darry clamped his mouth shut. His eyes closed shut with frozen finality. "I can't say."
"Why not? Is... Are they... still alive?"
"Yes. He's still alive. But my dad promised Charlie he would keep him safe. And now that my dad is gone, that responsibility has fallen on me," Darry said.
I sank into one of the chairs next to Darry. "But this is my twin brother. I can help keep him safe. How will me knowing where he is endanger him?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Why wouldn't I?!"
"It could... It would change everything." He took a deep drag on his cigarette.
"Darry. Please." I grabbed his arm, my voice begging. "I need to know."
His body was shaking, which scared me more than I'd like to admit. He wouldn't look me in the eyes as he began to speak.
"A year or so after Charlie and his wife moved away from Tulsa, Charlie came back. He... He showed up on our doorstep. He was shot. He said he'd been trying to talk to your mother's parents about... about helping them out, but they had run him off their property, and a gang of Socs had attacked him to get him to leave. They shot him. He was bleeding pretty badly. My father asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, but he... he refused. He was holding a baby. I remember that." Darry paused and smoked for a second. " I was about five at the time. I don't remember much. But I do remember that Charlie handed my dad the baby and asked him to keep him safe. He said something about it being to late for him... and then he left. He didn't even tell them the baby's name." Darry's adam's apple bobbed twice. "They found his body the next morning. He had bled out trying to drive back home, and he crashed the car after he blacked out."
Tears were streaming down my face. So that was the fate of my father, the love of my mother's life: killed by Soc goons. He was gone. I had been searching for what felt like a lifetime in order to find him, in order to experience some of that paternal love, in order to tie up the loose ends and make my family whole again. "And the baby?"
"My mom and dad kept him to raise as their own." Darry's voice was strained and hollow.
My heart stopped beating. "But that means...."
"Your twin brother is Soda."