It’s a Damn Cold Night

by starcrossed_kaiju

Summary:

Ponyboy considered herself to be as regular as regular came. Perhaps the definition, even. She was unassuming. Not like her brother Soda, who could have been a movie star. Not even like Darry, who everyone at school loved even though he was a Grease. Pony got overlooked; and more often than not, she was fine with that. Darry probably was, too, if it meant she was staying out of trouble.

Though, trouble was kind of built into her. Not like she could help it. That was just what growing up around a bunch of greasy boys does to a person.

*****

Basically, Ponyboy Curtis is a girl, which changes a few things, but definitely not everything.

Notes:

If you do some light research you can find out what year this takes place in based on the pop culture references alone.

Okay anyways. I don’t usually write this type of stuff but I saw an influx of fem!pony in the tags recently and was like “Oh we’re doing this? Oh, We’re doing this.” and this is what spawned from it. I kind of just started writing to see where I would end up, and I’m not displeased! Considering I never even intended on posting this.

Also, I copy pasted this directly from the old notes app so the formatting is probably Shit, but this is some old school bullshit so you’re gonna get the old school setup. Okay that’s it, enjoy.

Lying on the couch at 1:30pm on a Sunday was not exactly the teenage dream. Well, not the typical teenage dream. Right now it was pretty close to a nice fantasy though, and Ponyboy Curtis was watching Liv Tyler and her perfect face on the T.V while an unrelenting winter wind bashed into the living room window.

 

Liv Tyler might have been the prettiest girl Pony had ever seen. Her and her perfect hair, her perfect legs, Gina was right when she broke down about it in that movie. It wasn’t fair that some girls just got to be so pretty. Even her name was beautiful. It made Ponyboy stop and consider her own name, it made her wonder if she should start going by Michelle. If people would make fun of her less.

 

But Michelle just sounded so Socy, and Pony was no Soc. She turned the T.V off and rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling of the living room. An off-color stain on the white wall caught her eye. From when Two-Bit and Steve put mentos in a bottle of coke and set it off inside the house three years ago. The mess was unbelievable, sometimes when Pony sat down, she swore the couch cushions were still wet.

 

That period of time was messed up. Mere months since their parents died, Darry in over his head on just about every issue, Soda clueless and lost. Darry kicked Two and Steve out of the house for over a week, and to think that just a month earlier it would have been funny rather than borderline terroristic.

 

Ponyboy sighed. She was home alone and it was horrid outside. Winter break was in two days and she had no plans. No events to attend or friends to shop with, though it could be argued that she never really did anyways. It was just getting more noticeable now that she wasn’t in the bottom age brackets anymore.

 

She turned sixteen that past July and really it didn’t feel very different from fifteen. Same bullshit, same high school drama that seemed like it never ended so much as got recycled for when everyone seemed to be getting along a little too well. Pony wished people her age had more serious problems sometimes. Maybe then she could live in even an ounce of peace without people judging her for something as benign as how she looked and acted.

 

Ponyboy considered herself to be as regular as regular came. Perhaps the definition, even. She was unassuming. Not like her brother Soda, who could have been a movie star. Not even like Darry, who everyone at school loved even though he was a Grease. Pony got overlooked; and more often than not, she was fine with that. Darry probably was, too, if it meant she was staying out of trouble.

 

Though, trouble was kind of built into her. Not like she could help it. That was just what growing up around a bunch of greasy boys does to a person.

 

Her gang of guys were nicer than most. Never treated her too bad (except for that bonehead, Steve) or teased her for being a girl. Really it was the opposite. They teased her about how much she acted like a boy . Which was cute at first but now that she was rapidly approaching actual womanhood, things were starting to get weird. Namely, everyone was treating her differently. And she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

 

Once upon a time, she was just Darry and Soda’s silly little tomboy sister who could give as good as she got. Who could be a boy because she was seven, or ten, and kids could play however they wanted. The guys almost seemed oblivious to it. Why wouldn’t they be? When you’re all getting scolded for beating each other up with tree branches, you’re all the same.

 

Then Pony’s parents were dead, and Darry was suddenly looking at her with a dimly horrified expression on his face. Like he was seeing her for the first time. Not as a little kid but as a newly teenage girl who he now had to raise, and Ponyboy was feeling it too. Feeling her childhood draining out of her the colder her parents got under the ground, and with it went the illusion of pure androgyny. She looked in the mirror and saw the features of a woman slowly emerging from her face, and there would be no denying it any longer.

 

The further everything progressed, the more Pony felt like womanhood was wearing her instead of the other way around. If they weren’t flat broke, maybe Pony would at least have a more appropriate selection of clothing in her wardrobe; but ever since she well and truly grew out of the things her mother picked out for her (which happened surprisingly fast), she’d been trying to find ways to make Soda’s hand-me-downs look chic instead of completely post-apocalyptic.

 

It was mortifying, in all honesty. The girls around her in school all looked so enviously girly in their colorful skirts and stylish tops from the GAP. They were cool, and puberty had turned them all into infuriatingly good-looking specimens. Meanwhile Pony looked like the diving board. It wasn’t until this year that she had to move up a bra size and stop cinching Soda’s jeans so they wouldn’t fall right off her hips. She blamed malnutrition. Maybe then she’d have been a couple inches taller, too.

 

The front door all but blew open, breaking Pony from her train of thought, and a heavily bundled figure cursed at the wind as he swept into the house. Pony watched him upside down and realized it was Steve . Ugh. His black hair was sticking out from under his winter hat and he was throwing his layers down on the foyer instead of trying to hang them on the coat rack, which Ponyboy knew she’d be the one to clean up before Darry got home.

 

He gave her a sparse once-over before going straight to the kitchen. Pony suppressed a grin because she knew he wouldn’t find anything in there.

 

“Where’s Soda?” he called over the sounds of rummaging through the cabinets and fridge.

 

“Work,” Pony replied. Soda picked up a different job recently and didn’t work at the DX anymore. It paid better but he got home late. Steve had taken off work to try and graduate high school but nobody knew how long that was going to last.

 

“Two-Bit’s on his way,” Steve said. A soft drink popped and fizzed.

 

“Hey, you better be leaving enough Pepsi in there.”

 

Steve appeared in the living room. Still wearing his long sleeved shirt and jeans. “Cool it, horse girl,” he said and flopped down on the carpet. “Are you just sitting in here with the T.V off? I mean I know you like to daydream but this is a little concerning.”

 

Pony sat up and felt around for the remote. “I was watching something. And so what if I wanted some peace and quiet?” She switched the screen back on and headed over to the bookshelf next to the television, dropping down to search their small but respectable collection of both ripped and legit DVD’s. If Two-Bit was on his way he’d probably want to put on a Disney movie. He was a freak about those things.

 

She picked out The Little Mermaid . Thinking that if she had to put up with watching a cartoon it may as well be one she actually liked. The music was more than alright and although she’d never admit it out loud, she still liked the mermaids and simple romance. Her mom made her an Ariel costume for Halloween the year after the movie came out.

 

As Pony messed with the DVD player, she tried to ignore Steve’s existence, but she knew he was watching her. Not that there was much else to look at, but a string of self conscious thoughts formed in her head anyways. It wasn’t like she was dressed inappropriately or anything, quite the opposite. She was covered from head to toe in a sweatshirt and pajama pants, even a pair of socks because they kept the heat off during the day to save energy. Her hair was a little unmade but that was it. And why did she think Steve cared how she looked in the first place?

 

Pony clicked through the menu and fleetingly considered asking Steve if he thought she was pretty, then quickly banished the question from her mind. As if to distract her, Two-Bit came barreling through the door hollering about the weather. He too discarded his coat on the floor and walked into the kitchen.

 

“What am I? The maid?” Pony asked, irritatedly gathering the pile of both boys’ clothes and attempting to get them out of the walkway.

 

“Shoot, you sure act like one,” Two-Bit joked and she tossed the collection of jackets and gloves at him.

 

“You will never get a girl to like you if you can’t even pick up after yourself,” Ponyboy said.

 

Two-Bit just kicked the garments onto the living room floor and stole another Pepsi from the fridge. “You would know, huh?” he asked mirthfully.

 

“I would know. If you’re annoying me, how do you think it’d go with those Soc girls you love to chase after?”

 

The other boy was already making himself comfortable in the living room and Pony just rolled her eyes. She left the mess on the floor out of spite and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Two-Bit, who had started the movie already. Pony sat curled up with a pillow in her lap and tried to pay attention to the film instead of the guys. It was getting harder to just be casual around them. They were guys now, after all, not just kids she played outside with. Most girls didn’t hang out with boys like that unless they were fast, which was a word Ponyboy had become too familiar with in the past three years.

 

It wasn’t her fault she had to hang around a bunch of guys. As if she chose it. Maybe she’d have rather had two sisters instead of two brothers. If that were the case they’d probably have gotten their shit together in a lot less than a couple years . Pony tried to imagine Darry as a girl and found herself amused more than anything. The gang was an offshoot of her brothers, and she knew deep down that they were lucky to have them around. Even if she wished they were capable of understanding her better.

 

Two-Bit took her out to dinner because there was no such thing to be found in the house. Pony liked Chinese food fine, certainly better than whatever concoction Soda would have made. He called her when he got off work.

 

“How are things? Hey, where are you?” Soda asked, probably hearing the noise of the dining room. Pony sighed. She didn’t need him to jump on the worry train with Darry.

 

“I’m at dinner with Two-Bit. All we had at the house was frozen tater tots,” she replied.

 

“Spoiled brat,” Soda said. He was just jealous.

 

“How about you don’t forget to go to the store next time.”

 

“Alright, you got me. Anyways, see you at home. You know the drill,” Soda said and hung up. The drill was that Pony had to be home before the street lights came on. She huffed and flipped her phone closed, shoving it back in the pocket of her jeans.

 

“Darn, kid, you should know what Darry was doing out on the streets when he was your age. He must have grown a conscious,” Two-Bit laughed. “We used to not get home ‘til three in the morning and your parents didn’t give a hoot.”

 

“Course they didn’t. They knew you and Darry were the trouble,” Ponyboy replied and Two-Bit stomped on her foot under the table. “He’s worried I’ll run into no-good’s like you two were.”

 

“Touché.”

 

All things considered, Darry was actually pretty lenient on her. More so now that she’d settled into a healthier rhythm with school and proved that she didn’t need him breathing down her neck about it to excel anymore. She had more free time, and he’d just be a bitch if he didn’t let her do anything with it. Not that there was much to do but wander around or go to the movies.

 

Two-Bit left her in the front yard, talking about hitting up Buck’s place, but Pony didn’t go back inside when he walked off. It was still pretty much daylight out. Instead she zipped up her coat and braved the cold, making her way towards the lot a block away. She hoped to find nothing there, but sitting on a dismantled old truck bench was Johnny with a small fire pit in front of him. He looked like the ghost of Christmas past with his ratty layers and fraying scarf.

 

“What’cha doin’ Pony?” he asked when he saw her approaching.

 

“Were you planning on spending the night out here? Come sleep on the couch, it’s going to be below zero tonight.” Boy did she feel like a mom sometimes. Always pointing out things that ought to be common sense. One of these days she was going to stop doing that.

 

“Naw, I was gonna go back home. Was just waiting for the old man to calm down a bit so’s I might actually get some sleep,” Johnny replied. “But I guess I’m glad you showed up. Else I might’ve forgotten to head in.”

 

Johnny stood up and started stomping out the fire, embers and puffs of ash flew up into the darkening sky. Ever since he got a job at one of the downtown bars his parents started leaving him alone more. He was also getting kind of muscular and his father was starting to realize that Johnny could probably put him in the hospital if things got really dirty.

 

He still came to the lot to avoid the constant fighting at home, but the sight of his timid and bruised face was a thing of the past. Pony could see the light coming into his eyes the closer he got to autonomy and she tried not to let it hurt her heart. Why did things have to change? Why did the bad times always feel so good after they were over?

 

“You okay Ponyboy?” Johnny hunched down a bit to see her better. He was way taller than her now and she had to look up at him.

 

“I’m alright, Johnnycake. Glad you’re spending the night at home instead of out here,” she said.

 

“Thanks for checking on me,” Johnny replied. “And for offering the couch. You oughta get yourself home though, it’s too cold to be standin’ around out here.”

 

“Night Johnny.” Pony moved to leave but heard the other hesitate.

 

“Hold up, I forgot to say me and Two are going to that five dollar thing at the drive-in tomorrow night. All the movies are for cheap next week for Christmas or somethin’ if you wanna come along,” Johnny explained quickly.

 

“Yeah I’ll be there,” Pony agreed, and then they went their separate ways.

 

*****

 

School the next day was both agonizingly slow and boring in the way any day-before-a-long-break always felt. Pony finished all her assignments early so she wouldn’t have to stress about anything, which left her with nothing to do but read and draw in her sketchbook.

 

In the courtyard during lunch, she would use two pages to draw the scene in front of her. She liked to flip back and see what everything looked like on different days, and it was also satisfying to see her own improvement. Pony was scribbling away when her Soc Senses started going off, and she glanced around to see two older boys coming towards her with the easily recognizable air of “I’m about to annoy the shit out of you.”

 

Ponyboy knew them. They were in her gym class. The type to always throw dodge balls at mach six like there was a hit out on everyone in the pavilion. She’d been beamed in the face one time and her head stung for an hour afterwards. Randy and Bob were their names, and they always stuck together. Though Bob seemed to be the mastermind while Randy was simply a particularly willing underling.

 

“Hey Grease, you draw?” Bob asked, feigning interest. “How about you draw me.”

 

“Draw both of us,” Randy said, and they sat down across from her.

 

“You gonna pay me?” Pony asked, putting her arms over the pages of her book in case they tried messing with it.

 

Bob laughed at her. “Let’s see if you’re good enough for me to pay you,” he declared and quickly snatched her sketchbook before she could get a hold of it.

 

“Give that back, you fucking jerk!” Pony demanded in a raised voice. Her anger just made Bob and Randy more amused and they held the book out of her reach as they started rifling through it.

 

Ponyboy tried not to get visibly angry, or else she would turn beet red from humiliation and they’d know to come back and harass her another time. But watching the Socs gawk at her art felt uniquely hurtful. It wasn’t like she drew anything inappropriate, but the once innocent drawings of cartoon characters, self portraits of varying likeness, and random abstract designs felt more like she’d just bared her heart than anything else.

 

Bob paused on one page and pointed at something, which Randy immediately giggled at.

 

“Give it back now,” Ponyboy made a reach for her sketchbook again only for Bob to stand up with it.

 

“Hey, Randy, this page looks pretty greasy to me,” Bob said and turned the book so Pony could see the drawings he was talking about, and now she did flush red, because she was looking at a handful of sketches she’d made of the gang. When they’d all been in one place for Halloween. “I think I ought to take this with me and tape it to my punching bag.”

 

Bob began to rip the page out of the book and Pony reached out. “ No! ” she cried.

 

“Bob! Quit bothering that girl, why don’t you.” Bob stepped to the side to reveal a pissed off looking Soc girl, who glared at him like he was the scum of the Earth. “Give her book back and leave,” she said.

 

Bob tossed Pony’s sketchbook down on the table and scoffed. “Don’t slip on the grease, Cherry,” he said and shoulder-checked her as he and Randy walked away.

 

Cherry turned her attention back to Pony, who was hurriedly shoving her book into her backpack. “I’m real sorry about him, he just doesn’t know how to act sometimes,” she apologized.

 

Ponyboy knew of Cherry Valence. She was a senior, too, except she was an older senior. Not like Pony who got to skip a grade, and Pony really did not like her. Cherry was absolutely gorgeous. She always had the most trendy outfits and hairstyles, she looked good in everything and to top it off she was actually a nice girl. The thing Pony didn’t like about her was that she strictly dated the worst guys in the school. Not the Greaser guys, either. The terrible Soc boys like Bob Sheldon who ultimately never treated her right and caused public breakup scandals that rocked the gossip scene for weeks.

 

This was how Ponyboy knew that Cherry was dating Bob. “Don’t apologize to me,” she replied, “he’s your boyfriend.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Cherry sighed sadly. “I dumped him last week.”

 

Pony stopped herself from saying anything offensive and sat back down at her table. “Well, thanks for telling him off anyways, I guess.”

 

Cherry joined her, which threw Pony for a loop. “I don’t know how he could make fun of your art. You’re an amazing artist.” When  Ponyboy gave her a quizzical look she continued. “We had art together last year. They always hung your drawings up in the hallways, remember?”

 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Pony didn’t forget. She just didn’t remember they ever had art together.

 

“Cherry? What’s goin’ on?” Another girl had approached them, Soc, by the looks of it, and Pony wanted to hide under the table.

 

“Bob and Randy were giving her grief,” Cherry explained.

 

“Oh no, I’m sorry about that,” the Soc girl said. “I recognize you, what grade are you in?” she sat down on Pony’s other side and set her book bag on top of the table.

 

“Twelve,” Ponyboy replied. “But I skipped a grade.”

 

“I’m Marcia,” the Soc girl said. She was tall and sharp. Pony was pretty sure she was on the volleyball team. Her black hair went down to her shoulders and she had sparkly extensions in. She looked like Liv Tyler.

 

“I’m Pony.”

 

“What an interesting and unique name,” Cherry commented, and Pony forced a smile at her. She couldn’t really tell if she was being messed with or not and it was making her uncomfortable.

 

“My father was an original person,” Ponyboy replied. “I have a brother named Sodapop.”

 

Marcia snapped her fingers. “That’s where I know you from! Boy, you and him kind of look alike. I’ve seen you at the rodeos.”

 

“Didn’t recognize you without the hat and boots,” Cherry giggled. Pony looked an awful lot like a boy when she went to the rodeos. She’d wear her hair in a bun and the cowboy garb made her look a little bulky.

 

The bell rang and they all got up to leave, but the Soc girls held Pony back a second. “Sorry again about those stupid boys,” Marcia said.

 

“Pony, maybe we can make it up to you. We’re heading to Woodland Hills after school, come with us,” Cherry offered with a genuine smile.

 

Ponyboy almost went slack jawed. Her broke ass shopping with Socs? She had half the mind to start looking around for film cameras, because this had to be some kind of Hallmark operation.

 

“Are you sure?” Pony asked.

 

“Course, just come and hang out. It’ll only be the three of us, no boys allowed,” Marcia added with a smile.

 

“Alright, okay,” Ponyboy agreed, growing excitement fizzled in her stomach. She’d have to lie to Darry about why she wasn’t going straight home. Tutoring ran late, something like that. She’d figure it out.

 

The last four periods were hell to sit through, and Pony scrambled to the parking lot as fast as she could before Steve or anyone who knew her could ask where the heck she was going. Cherry waved her down and Pony sat in the back of her blindingly silver Lexus, feeling a bit like she was dreaming as they drove across town with the music turned up.

 

Even the music they listened to was different. *NSYNC, Destiny’s Child, Mariah Carey. Stuff you wouldn’t be caught dead listening to around the Greaser hood.

 

“What music do you usually listen to, Pony?” Marcia asked after offering her some fruit flavored gum.

 

“Grateful Dead,” Pony replied.

 

“Is that a song?” Cherry asked.

 

“Um, no, it’s a band,” Pony said with a little bit of embarrassment.

 

They entered the mall through the Dillard’s, and immediately the smell of wealth washed over Pony’s senses. She’d only ever been in a department store like this on accident, but Cherry and Marcia seemed to know it like the back of their hand. They promptly led her up the escalator and into the young adult sections, taking time to examine certain shirts or dresses that caught their attention.

 

Pony pretended to know exactly what they were looking at, picking up random items herself and trying to imagine wearing them. She found a light purple shirt with a low neckline and held it up to herself in one of the long mirrors attached to the racks of clothing. It was a similar shade to the jacket she was wearing, maybe they would have matched if it was less faded.

 

“Oh that’s a cute one, Pony!” Cherry exclaimed. “It’d look good with one of these skirts over here, don’t you think?” She gestured to a display of various thigh-length skirts, all of which had the same criss-crossing pattern in different hues. Pony blushed at the thought of wearing one. It wasn’t like they were risqué, she saw girls wearing them all the time, but she never owned anything shorter than her kneecaps.

 

Darry and Soda never said anything, but Pony was pretty sure they were thankful that she only ever wore men’s clothing. It wasn’t exactly her choice, but she never complained about it. Nor would she ever complain about it to them, because that would just be embarrassing. On top of that, Pony really did not need one more thing for her brothers to police her about.

 

Cherry and Marcia seemed to go into some kind of ecstatic trance in the following hour and a half as they built Ponyboy an outfit from thin air. They whisked her in and out of dressing rooms and through different stores until finally they decided they had the perfect canvas to work with. In the SEARS dressing rooms, they waited outside while Pony put on what they’d gotten her.

 

Initially Pony had been horrified when Cherry insisted on paying for the frankly ridiculously priced items they picked out, but she just brushed it off. “It’s Christmas, Pony,” she said without a hint of malice, and Ponyboy couldn’t help but feel warm inside.

 

As she got dressed, the true merit of what Cherry and Marcia had accomplished became clear. The purple top she picked out served as the base for the skirt, whose blueish-violet pattern was neither overshadowed nor obscured by the plain top. Under the skirt she wore white tights which matched her collared undershirt. Cherry had called Pony an artist earlier that day, but it seemed that she’d neglected to consider her own talents.

 

Pony pulled back the curtain with a strange new confidence, and Cherry snapped her fingers in approval. “How do you feel, Pony?”

 

“I feel like a million bucks,” Ponyboy replied. “No, really, I think the price tag on this shirt was in the triple digits.”

 

Marcia chuckled and handed her a pair of slip-on shoes with a tastefully small heel, which Pony was grateful for because she probably wouldn’t be able to walk in anything else. “Doesn’t it feel good to make yourself look nice sometimes?” Marcia asked.

 

“If I could look like this every day I would,” Pony admitted, examining herself in the mirror. “But my brothers would have a stroke. Their lives are so much easier when I’m plain Jane.”

 

“You need to hang out with us more,” Cherry shook her head. “We’ll make sure a girl gets treated right, won’t we?”

 

Marcia nodded in agreement, then perked up. “I think I left my makeup bag in the car. Let’s head out there, don’t you think some of that silver eyeshadow would look perfect?” she asked Cherry.

 

On the boot of the Lexus, Marcia expertly applied a simple layer of shimmering, silver eye shadow and mascara to Pony’s face. It was much more understated than the looks she’d seen on Greaser girls that Darry forbid her from ever wearing. She actually wasn’t supposed to wear makeup at all because it was “too grown,” but Pony figured she could easily remove it before she got home.

 

“Oh, one more thing,” Marcia said and reached around in her beauty bag, then revealed a tube of shiny pink lipstick and handed it to Pony.

 

It felt strange on her lips. Somehow more serious than chapstick, and the shine commanded a certain attention to her face that was never there before. It felt good, sort of rebellious. No longer would she be just a face in the crowd.

 

Cherry then used a comb to part her hair so that it fell in a side part rather than down the middle. Pony’s hair was pretty straight and she usually kept it in two long braids, but it was thick like her father’s and had alright volume when Cherry messed around with it enough. Though it was nowhere near as perfect as Cherry’s own shining curls.

 

Pony stuffed her regular clothes into her backpack and wore her purple jacket to keep off the evening chill. “Are y’all goin’ to the five dollar deal at the drive in? I’m supposed to meet up with some friends there tonight,” she said.

 

“I was thinking of going to that. Haven’t been around there much since I’ve been dating Bob, he always said movies were stupid,” Cherry replied.

 

“That Jumanji thing looks kinda fun,” Marcia said.

 

“The kids movie?” Pony asked.

 

“It ain’t just for kids! It’s got Robin Williams in it,” Marcia defended herself. “What’d you want to see, Pony?”

 

“ Heat ,” she replied easily. That was a lie. She really wanted to see Sense and Sensibility , but the guys would laugh her off the premises if she ever admitted to it.

 

“You’re hardcore, girl,” Cherry said. It was only five and the drive in didn’t open for another hour and a half, so they left the car at a park and decided to take a walk around the upscale neighborhood on the west side of town. Pony wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to be doing. Cherry and Marcia seemed to be window shopping for houses, and Pony noticed for the first time that a lot of the two-story fancy homes were actually unoccupied.

 

“Why are so many of these empty?” Ponyboy asked, standing in front of a nice white house with blue shutters and a two-car garage.

 

“Oh, it’s winter. The people who usually live here go down south for nicer weather. I’m leaving on Thursday to go to Florida until school starts up again,” Marcia explained.

 

“So they just sit here empty half the year?”

 

“I guess they do,” Marcia said nonchalantly. “I like the columns on that one, I bet it looks good at night with the lights all on.”

 

Pony tried to imagine what it would be like if she were able to just pick up and go to another state when it got a little too chilly out. To have a whole other house set aside just for you, where you chose it to be and already with everything you wanted in it. Images of a bright blue lake and a porch swing meandered into her mind. Purple sunsets over the sparkling water and bay windows where she would write books and draw the mountains in the distance.

 

When they got to the drive-in, there was already a good crowd in the parking lot. Pony saw some Greasers milling around, Socs too. Both groups on opposite sides of the lot. She felt nervous when she stepped out of the car, leaving her jacket and bag in the footwell of the backseat so nobody would get any ideas about stealing her stuff. It was like she was going undercover, playing a part that didn’t belong to her.

 

None of the Socs seemed to realize there was a Greaser among them, though, as the three girls perused the concession area and waited in line for their tickets. Pony looked around for Johnny, though she knew he would probably get in through the back and fall in with the crowd seeing the movies that played outside rather than in the movie house.

 

Marcia and Cherry talked her into Jumanji , but the showing wasn’t until six thirty so they all went outside and decided to watch one of the older films being played for holiday cheap.

 

“Did you wanna go and try to find your friends, Pony?” Cherry asked.

 

“I don’t know, they might think I’m trying to switch sides on ‘em,” Ponyboy said.

 

“Any friends worth a dang wouldn’t hold a little makeover against you,” Cherry replied righteously, and it was then that Pony realized Cherry probably thought the friends in question were girls.

 

“Oh, uh, they ain’t really like that,” Ponyboy tried to explain without revealing what was suddenly a quite embarrassing factoid. “They’re, uh, they’re too proud of who they are. If they saw me looking like this they’d never think of me the same way again. And—and I couldn’t let them tell my brother about all this. He’d probably ground me til I paid you back what everything cost.”

 

Cherry sighed. “I just don’t understand why things have to be this way,” she said sadly.

 

“Like what?” Pony asked.

 

“Like Greasers and Socs. Like the wrong and right side of the tracks. You’re such a nice girl, Pony. You don’t deserve anyone telling you what you should be like. Not Bob and not your own people neither,” Cherry said.

 

“Greasers aren’t all hoods,” Ponyboy replied. “They’re friends and family same as you and your folks. And what makes you so sure I’m such a nice girl?”

 

Cherry smiled an almost comically beautiful smile at that. “You’re too sweet to be a real hood. I know plenty of Greaser girls who’re proud of it like you said, and you just aren’t like any of them. You don’t have that meanness in your eyes.”

 

“Oh sure, I’m young and innocent.” Pony really wanted a cigarette.

 

“Not innocent,” Cherry said slowly. “Just not…dirty.”

 

Pony wondered whether or not that was offensive, but couldn’t decide. She looked straight ahead and tried to focus on the film without drifting into blurry thought about what a weird day she was having, but she didn’t succeed. It was getting kind of dark out now and people were filling up the outside area pretty fast. Just as Marcia left to get more popcorn, Pony saw two familiar figures walk down the rows of seats towards them.

 

Bob and Randy and another boy Soc Pony didn’t recognize approached them, and Cherry shook her head disappointedly. The boys loomed over them and sat in the chairs a row ahead, all flipping around in their seats to gawk.

 

“Making new friends, Cherry?” Bob asked with noticeable venom. “I didn’t know we took on charity work, is that you? Charity Valence?”

 

Pony could smell beer on him and wrinkled her nose. “Leave us be, Bob,” Cherry commanded. She was a fierce one, Pony thought. She’d make a good Greaser.

 

“I gotta admit the grease rubbed off real nice,” Bob continued, eyeing Pony’s made-up face like she was an ice cream. “She’s real easy on the eyes for a Greaser.”

 

“I don’t need a douche like you to tell me I’m pretty,” Ponyboy shot back.

 

“What’d you say to me you little skank?” Bob reached forwards suddenly and locked a fist in the front of Pony’s shirt, jerking her forwards violently.

 

“Bob!” Cherry cried. “You get your hands off her or I’ll scream,” she warned. Bob shoved Pony back onto her seat, his lackeys all laughed at her and Bob stormed off once again. Leaving her wide-eyed and trembling.

 

Cherry was beside herself, muttering apologies and quietly trying to calm her own fright. “He’s having a hard time, Pony, I swear it,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “He was never like that, ever since his parents got divorced it’s like he’s a different person. I don’t know how he could have been so sweet one day and the next..”

 

Marcia returned at that moment and immediately saw her friend in tears. “Cherry! What happened?”

 

“Bob came over and roughed Pony up,” Cherry replied tearfully. It was obvious she still loved him, though it was beyond Ponyboy how that could be possible. Why should he get to harass her just because things weren’t perfect at home? Why should she be the one to excuse his bad behavior, why should she just have to understand and not hold it against him?

 

Marcia sat down and immediately began comforting her friend, which was weird considering Cherry was perfectly fine. She wasn’t the one who got hit on and manhandled by a drunk asshole. Pony crossed her arms over her chest and slid down in her seat, wishing she was just a wallflower again. Socs never bothered Greaser girls. They were supposed to be off limits.

 

Five years ago, a Soc had tried something on one of the Tiger Kings’ girls and they ran the kid over with a car. Two people went to jail and the kid was in the hospital for months. Pony still remembers the rumble they had over it. The Greasers ended up winning and it was declared that messing with girls on either side was strictly off limits. Maybe Bob just forgot about that in his stupor, or maybe he was trying to make some sort of power move.

 

Pony couldn’t be a Soc and a Greaser. Else she was walking in no man’s land, and everything flew where there were no laws.

 

She was about to tell Cherry and Marcia that she’d decided to leave when a can of Pepsi appeared in front of her face. Pony looked up and immediately felt all the blood rush out of her face when she locked eyes with Dallas Winston, who regarded her with equal incredulity. He must have not recognized her until she faced him.

 

Pony nervously accepted the drink and tore her eyes away, heart beating so fast it could probably power a car. Behind Dallas was Johnny—also holding two drinks, who looked her over silently and followed the other Greaser to sit where Bob and his ilk had just been. It was the most embarrassing thing Pony had ever experienced in her life, she was absolutely sure of it.

 

Cherry was still sniffing and Dallas took a Coke from Johnny and held it out towards her. “Maybe this’ll cool you down,” he said in the signature sleazy tone that meant he really didn’t give a shit.

 

“Oh get lost hood!” Cherry replied and shoved the drink away. “We don’t need any more trouble from you tonight. If you want to bother someone so bad go find it in the parking lot.”

 

“That’s the Greaser who jockey’s for the Slash-J sometimes,” Marcia commented, which really sent Pony’s mind into a frenzy because she shouldn’t have been talking smack so nonchalant like that. Not to Dallas, who just laughed at her disapproving tone.

 

“You’d better leave us alone or I’ll call the cops,” Cherry said defiantly.

 

“Oh, I’m scared to death,” Dallas responded with mock trepidation. “You ought to see my record sometime, guess what I’ve been in for. And what do you know about hoods? Think you know everything just because you wanted to play dress up, huh?”

 

Ponyboy glanced between Dallas and Cherry, the latter of whom was no longer crying, instead she was almost matching shades with her hair in anger. “How dare you,” she said. “Don’t you talk to us like that, Greaser. Why don’t you be nice and leave us alone.”

 

“I’m never nice. Besides, your new friend here was playing hooky on us.” Dallas gestured at Pony, who was gripping her Pepsi so hard the can was staring to crinkle. Cherry’s head whirled around and regarded her with a shocked expression.

 

“You know him, Pony?” Cherry asked. Pony wondered if spontaneous combustion could be induced if someone wanted it badly enough.

 

“Didn’t tell you she was friends with the Greaser hood, did she?” Dallas inquired amusedly. He leaned over the back of his chair, balancing it on two legs and put an arm around Pony’s shoulders. Pony could smell his sweat and cologne which she was pretty sure he used in place of a shower. At least it wasn’t beer like Bob. Pony tried to shrug him off but the action only egged him on. “Hey, come on Ponygirl, we’re like peas in a pod ain’t we? You know it, don’t you Johnny?”

 

“Lay off, Dal,” Johnny said with more conviction than usual. He’d been watching them silently until then, but the look on his face now was toeing the line between guilt and disappointment. Though Pony couldn’t tell who it was aimed at.

 

“What’d you say?” Dallas asked Johnny, who just blinked at him unflinchingly.

 

“I said leave em alone, just give it a rest,” Johnny reiterated. Dallas let his chair fall back down with a loud SMACK , which made Pony and Cherry jump a little bit, but he strolled away like a dust storm and disappeared. The lingering static of his temper hung in the air as Pony smoothed out her shirt and put her hair back in place.

 

“Thanks for that,” Marcia said to Johnny, who shrugged.

 

“Really thanks for not starting in on us,” Cherry continued. “You’ve got no idea what we’ve been through today.”

 

“Just looking out. Pony’s my friend, too,” Johnny said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her yet and Pony kind of wanted to cry now.

 

“Well come over here, you can protect us from all the no-good’s out tonight,” Marcia invited the other Greaser, who looked a bit surprised but rounded the aisle and sat down next to her.

 

“Were those the friends you were talking about, Pony?” Cherry asked.

 

“Yeah,” Pony replied stiffly.

 

“Well I guess I see what you were talking about now,” she replied. “How’d you ever get to be friends with that Dally Winston? You don’t seem the type to put up with him.”

 

“Dally’s okay,” Johnny said.

 

“He was only doin’ that to tease me,” Ponyboy excused. “I told you what they’d think if they saw me like this.”

 

“Well that’s no way to treat a nice girl like you,” Cherry declared. “Your brothers don’t put him in his place?”

 

“He doesn’t usually do that,” Pony said, then realized she was sounding an awful lot like Cherry did not ten minutes ago when she was talking about Bob.

 

“We Greasers just joke around like that. It ain’t supposed to be hurtful,” Johnny piped up again. Pony would usually be quick to agree with him but in that moment she wasn’t sure if he was right. She felt pretty hurt right then, being on the butt end of Dallas’ “jokes.” And all because she was dressed differently?

 

“Kinda wonder what it’d be like to be friends with him,” Cherry said so softly that only Ponyboy heard it over the sound of the movie, and she almost wanted to laugh. If Cherry actually knew, Dallas, she wouldn’t be thinking like that about him.

 

Dallas was not someone to swoon at. He’d just gotten out of jail for breaking the window of a cop car and tonight was actually the first time Pony had seen him in about two months. Part of her was glad for it because something messed up always happened whenever he was around, and she really didn’t like him because of that. Everyone in the gang was capable of taking a chill pill except for him, and his constant search for danger really pissed Pony off sometimes.

 

She was never able to understand him. Most people were predictable enough, they had tells and patterns that let Pony see into their lives, but Dallas was an enigma. She couldn’t even draw him correctly. He was just a wild card and it really wasn’t fair. Nobody should get to be that unknowable, that’s how the angler fish catches its prey. That’s how a good girl like Cherry falls for someone like Dallas Winston.

 

Pony excused herself from the little group in the concession area where they were waiting for Jumanji to open up. She checked the time and saw it was still early enough, then headed to the restrooms. She was pleased to see that her makeup hadn’t moved and her hair was only a little frizzy. It was silly, really, suddenly being so concerned with her looks, but she couldn’t help it. This was her one night to see herself in a different way and she didn’t want to waste it.

 

As she was walking away from the restrooms, back to the indoor part of the theater, a loud BANG startled her and she looked over to see that darned group of Socs all standing around an overturned garbage can. Two seconds later, an empty bottle hit the wall behind her, followed by a few more pieces of trash that crashed around her feet. Pony ducked, realizing they were throwing things at her.

 

She turned and started to run away, not towards the movie house but into the parking lot, not wanting them to follow her inside and get everyone banned from the building.

 

“Grease!” they shouted after her, “Trash!”

 

A glass bottle shattered next to her foot and Pony stumbled over it, falling over on her side with a yelp. The knee of her stocking tore on the gravely blacktop. One of the Soc guys picked her up and pushed her into the arms of Bob, who held her against his chest with his arms locked over her own.

 

“You’ve sure got some pretty lipstick on,” Bob taunted. “Here Dobson, give us a kiss!” and he held her close to the face of a tall Soc with mousy hair.

 

“ Ewww ,” Dobson exclaimed, laughing along with his friends. Ponyboy stomped hard on Bob’s foot and he let her go.

 

“You’re worse than hoods!” Pony shouted at them making to storm off, but Dobson ran in front of her and blocked her path back to the entrance. Now she was starting to get scared. Darry and Soda had coached her tirelessly on what to do if this ever happened, even making her fight against them to practice, but five Socs was a bad deal for anyone.

 

Dobson had his arms up like he was corralling an animal, and Pony knew the rest of his gang were closing in behind her. She wasn’t sure what exactly they wanted to do, but she knew she didn’t care to find out. Darry would kill her for being so stupid.

 

She heard a click from behind her and saw Bob with a switchblade. He was in the middle of the circle now. “We don’t want your friends getting any ideas about coming over to our side of the tracks,” he said.

 

“So stay on your own side,” Ponyboy retorted.

 

“Not me, Grease. You ,” Bob pointed at her with the knife. “That nice long hair of yours must make you real proud, but I think you need a trim.”

 

The first thing that happened to a Greaser when they got locked up was that the jail would shave their head. Hair was important to them, it was how they showed off their personalities when they were too poor to wear cool clothes or otherwise differentiate themselves from one another. Pony’s long hair was one of her mother’s favorite things, she would play with it all the time and always sent her off to school with a beautiful updo.

 

Pony’s hands went to her hair protectively. Bob advanced on her and she kicked him square in the gut, which caused him to buckle and double over. Pony leaped over his body and ducked under the swinging arms of the Socs, running as fast as she possibly could away from them. She glanced back for a second to see if they were giving chase, which they were, then unexpectedly slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

 

She went down like she’d been clotheslined, her back smacked flat into the ground and she narrowly avoided bouncing her head off the pavement. Pony’s breath left her momentarily with a pained “OUGH!”

 

Everything was eerily quiet while she was still watching the songbirds fly around her head, then a series of heavy metallic clanks pierced her ears and she sat up only to see Dallas standing there with a piece of iron piping in his hand. He was slamming it against the ground and shouting at the Socs, who had stopped a few yards away.

 

“Yeah, come on! That’s what I thought,” he was saying. “Come over here and I’ll break your fucking fingers!”

 

The Socs disappeared in record time and Dallas launched the pipe like a javelin across the parking lot, it crashed down with a series of expensive sounding clatters in the sea of vehicles.

 

Ponyboy stood up and glanced at him momentarily, then promptly walked away, in the direction of Cherry’s car.

 

“Not even a thank you?” Dallas called after her.

 

“I gotta go,” Pony said back to him. He was following her.

 

“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you with all that crap on,” he said, jogging up next to her with his hands in his coat pockets. “I might’ve thought you were just some Socy girl.”

 

“And you wouldn’tve helped out? Gosh, Dallas, how honorable,” Pony said, yanking at the door of Cherry’s car. It wasn’t even locked, what a joke.

 

“Who ever said I was honorable?”

 

Definitely not me , Pony thought, but didn’t voice it. She unzipped her backpack and unloaded her regular clothes onto the seat. “I need to get home like now,” she said, then lifted her purple shirt up over her head. Dallas’ eyes bugged out of his head for a second before he spun around to look in the other direction.

 

“Jesus wept, Ponygirl, the hell are you doing!?” he cried to the empty lot.

 

“Darry’ll have a conniption fit if he sees me in this,” Ponyboy said, climbing into the car and taking the rest of the outfit off except for the tights, which she just wore under her jeans. She almost put her T-Shirt on inside out and she shivered in the cold night air before safely zipping her purple jacket all the way up to her neck.

 

“He’s gonna have a fit when I tell him a pack of Socs have it out for you, too,” Dallas replied, apparently forgoing propriety now as he leaned over the car door. Luckily Pony was fully dressed save for her sneakers. “What were you thinking going out with them girls?”

 

“They invited me,” Pony said. “We just wanted to hang out.”

 

“Hang out? You don’t know them, Pony.”

 

“They’re nice people. They felt bad about what Bob and them did to me at school. It’s nothing, Dallas, those Socs bother me all the time and nothing ever happens,” Ponyboy replied. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say, because Dallas’ eyes went cold and mean.

 

“What do they do? How come nobody knows about this?” he asked.

 

“Same reason Johnny never talked about people bothering him. It’s more trouble to make trouble out of it.” Pony hopped out of the car with her bag and caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror when she shut the door. “Crap,” she hissed at the sight of her made-up face.

 

Dallas produced a white handkerchief from his pocket and she went about wiping it off. A smear of pink and silvery black gathered on it. “More trouble for you, maybe,” he said. “Don’t you remember what we said? Let us handle it?”

 

“Nothing much to handle,” Ponyboy said. “I swear it, please don’t make a thing out of this. You can’t get in trouble again, Dallas. You’ll get a life sentence.”

 

Pony shouldered past him and started to leave the parking lot. “Where are you going?”

 

“Home! Where do you think?”

 

“You sure as heck ain’t walking by yourself. Wait for Johnny and Two,” Dallas said.

 

Two-Bit was actually there? She sure was glad he didn’t find her. “Johnny and Two-Bit can buddy up together,” she replied.

 

“Ugh, man alive, okay,” Dallas groaned and balled his handkerchief up, shoving it in his back pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

It was rare for Pony to find herself alone with any one of the gang, but Dallas was another thing entirely. Cherry asked her how they ever came to be friends, but Pony honestly wasn’t sure that’s what they were. She remembered when Dally arrived in Tulsa. He was only twelve years old but he’d been born a grown up. Pony was scared of him for a while, he reminded her of the eels in The Little Mermaid . Danger bringers, watchful and cunning.

 

Both Darry and Soda were home when they got there and Pony made some excuse about going to shower before anyone could get a word in. She knew Dally was probably down there telling them everything, and she let the sound of the running water fill her head instead of anticipation for the scolding she was about to get. When she vacated the bathroom it was quiet save for the television running commercials downstairs, and Pony quickly shut herself in her room and burrowed under the covers.

 

She probably wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep, though it wasn’t long before someone knocked softly on her door and entered the room. Pony didn’t turn over, hoping whoever it was would think she was already asleep.

 

“I know you ain’t sleeping.” It was Soda. He pushed the door closed and Pony saw the square of light it let in get slim. There was a weight on the bed then and he laid down behind her, not touching, but close enough that if she wanted to roll over she’d be in his arms. “Dally said what happened.”

 

“I told him not to tell,” Ponyboy lamented. She could feel tears of humiliation and pain in her eyes.

 

“You can’t keep things like that from us, honey,” Soda said. There was a hand on her back then, comfortingly rubbing circles. “What’s this about you getting bothered at school?”

 

“I said it was nothing, Soda.” Pony flipped over to look at him. He had a sweet worried expression on his face. She hated when he looked like that, it just made her get all weepy too. “You and the guys never make a fuss when they mess with you.”

 

“It’s different, Pony. Me and the guys can handle it ourselves. We don’t make a fuss because we’ll just set it straight in the next rumble.”

 

“Ugh,” Ponyboy sighed exhaustedly, shoving her face into her pillow.

 

“ Please tell us when someone is bothering you. Soc or Greaser.” Pony didn’t respond. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

 

“I’m okay. What really hurt was when Dallas walked out in front of me and I beamed myself off his chest,” Ponyboy said with a hint of humor that got the both of them giggling in spite of themselves.

 

“Ha, he said you ran into him. I thought he just meant you found him,” Soda giggled.

 

“No, I really rammed into him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a bruise.” They laughed at that too. “Is Darry gonna ground me?”

 

“He ain’t gonna do that. You didn’t do nothing wrong,” Soda said. Dallas must have withheld her involvement with Cherry and Marcia from the series of events. Pony relaxed at the realization. “You’re gonna get a talking to in the morning, though.”

 

“Well I saw that coming.”

 

“You’re a good kid, Pony, you know that right? I know it may not seem like it, but you make things pretty easy on us all things considered.”

 

“Mm,” Ponyboy responded absently. She hiked her covers up to her chin and curled up, desperately tired now that Soda had put her mind at ease a bit. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Night Pony,” he whispered.

 

*****

 

The next morning, Pony snuck to the middle of the stairs on her way to breakfast. Soda probably wouldn’t wake up until two in the afternoon, but Darry was an early riser. She peered through the banisters and spied Steve sleeping on the couch, but no sign of Darry.

 

“Ponyboy, what are you doing?”

 

Pony stood up quickly and saw Darry standing at the top of the stairs. “Um, nothing,” she said. Darry shook his head and brushed past her, pausing when he saw Steve on the couch. They wouldn’t be able to talk about jack if he was sitting there.

 

Darry tossed a throw pillow at Steve’s face. “Up and at ‘em, Randle. Time to face the day.”

 

Steve groaned. “It better be after ten,” he said.

 

“It’s eight thirty you lazy dog. Aren’t you on winter break? Go get Soda and get your asses out of the house.”

 

Steve slid off the couch, looking the exact opposite of tuff. He gave Pony a scowl on his way up the stairs. “This is your doing, horse girl,” he said.

 

Pony stuck her tongue out at him.

 

As expected, Darry laid into her while she stared at her dampening corn flakes. He waited until the other boys dragged themselves out of the house, though, which was sensible enough.

 

“Do you need someone to be looking after you twenty-four seven?” he asked.

 

“No, Darry,” Ponyboy responded.

 

“I didn’t think so. This keeping things to yourself needs to end now, Ponyboy. You’re getting to an age where we can’t just assume what’s going on in your life, and things might go real bad if you’re keeping the wrong things secret.”

 

Pony’s ears went red and she tried to not gag into her cereal. Darry always made the worst comparisons and allegories to warn her against getting in trouble.

 

“Okay, I hear you,” Pony replied. “I’ll tell you right away if I’m pregnant.”

 

“ Ponyboy! ” Darry exclaimed, scandalized. It only made her smile wickedly. The great thing about guys was that the one thing they were truly terrified of was girl stuff. Darry still hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to her about periods or sex yet. He just gave her some money each month to stock up on pads without asking about it.

 

Pony dumped her uneaten breakfast down the sink and briskly got ready for the day. She had some vague notions about running errands for herself, which just meant returning books to the library and checking out new ones, then going to the Save A Lot to stock up on her secret snack stash. It wouldn’t take a lot of time to do all of that if that’s the only stuff she did while out, but Pony always ended up taking various detours to fill her time.

 

Usually those detours would involve walking around alone or finding one of the gang to hang out with. Since it was break, though, she decided to make for downtown after hitting up the Save A Lot. She still had some leftover money after stowing the rest in her savings and she was running low on watercolor markers. There was only one art store that had good quality brushes for a decent price and they flew off the shelves.

 

She peddled her bike down random roads, letting the cool air rush in her face. It was always when she went out of her way that she found interesting stuff. Yard sales, cute dogs, sometimes Greasers or Socs doing things they shouldn’t. In those cases she usually absconded quickly before anyone could get any ideas about leaving no witnesses.

 

The cold seemed to have sent most liveliness into hibernation, though she did stop to see a sweet golden retriever who still liked to be out in the yard. It was a well trained pup and never left the property even though there was no fence. This neighborhood was middle class and nice looking. Christmas lights and decorations were everywhere. Pony made a mental note to return here at some point when it was dark to see them all lit up.

 

Pony got to the art store on time to get her markers and the girl at the register made small talk. They saw one another a decent amount because Pony was a regular but friendship hadn’t really blossomed yet. Probably because one time Two-Bit came in with her and made a bit of a scene, which nearly got them both thrown out for good.

 

“What’re you doing for the holidays?” Joanne, the girl at the counter asked.

 

“Oh, nothing really. Definitely not going down to Florida, that’s for sure,” Ponyboy replied, thinking of Marcia.

 

“I wish I could go to Florida. They say the beaches in Texas are just as nice but I don’t believe it for a second.” Joanne was nice. She reminded Pony a bit of Dallas’ ex girlfriend, Sylvia. They had the same alternative kinda look to them, except Sylvia looked more like a goth and Joanne looked like she could be a witch. “Come back soon, Pony. But don’t bring that Greaser with you.”

 

Pony’s backpack was getting a little full and she hadn’t gone to the library yet. She was kind of avoiding it because now that she’d gotten downtown, she’d have to go back up through the sort of industrial area where the Socs and Greasers liked to mix and egg one another on for some reason. Usually she’d just take the long way, but it was cold and there was no excuse to make things take longer. She still decided to bike around the downtown area, though.

 

As she was passing through the auto district someone whistled at her from one of the open garages, and she hazarded a glance, seeing Curly Shepard kicked back next to a small fire pit made out of pails and newspaper pages. Pony considered just peddling off faster, but she stopped and walked her bike over to him.

 

“Heya Ponytail,” Curly said with a sweetness Pony was always certain he was faking.

 

“What’s the word?” She asked, feeling dumb because she always talked differently when she was around him.

 

“It’s colder than the grave out here’s what. Haven’t seen you around these parts in ages,” Curly told her. Standing up, he put his hands in his coat pockets and she could see his breath condense before he stepped into the sunlight.

 

“That’s because you’re never here. What did you do to make Tim put you on fire watch?” Pony asked.

 

“Got busted lifting from Walmart,” he said. “Wasn’t even worth it, it was just gum and cigarettes. Like they’d miss nine dollars.”

 

“Well I can see you’re making good use of your time,” Ponyboy observed how despite the appliances shop being opened, it looked like nothing had been touched.

 

“More like good use of company time. Anyways I’m going grey, let’s blow this joint,” Curly replied. He put out the fire and tossed the pail into a sink, then pulled the grate down and let it slam.

 

“You ain’t gonna get in trouble?”

 

“Tim’s so fucking high he probably doesn’t even remember I’m supposed to be here. Now scoot and let me on.”

 

Pony moved so that Curly could use the saddle seat of her bike while she balanced on the top tube. They were getting a little big to be doing that but the bike didn’t flip over, even if Pony had to shift the gear up so she wouldn’t tire herself out trying to carry both of them. Curly put his arms around her waist and squinted into the cold breeze.

 

He could be surprisingly quiet and thoughtful sometimes. Maybe that was the reason Pony hadn’t completely written him off as a hood who didn’t deserve her attention. She seemed to be the only one who thought that, though. Even his own brother didn’t give him the time of day.

 

“Where’re we going?” Curly asked.

 

“Library,” Pony said.

 

“ Library ,” Curly mocked. “How are you going to be a Greaser and a complete geek?”

 

“How about you shut up or get off my bike.”

 

Ponyboy was the only person who could talk to Curly like that and not get laid waste to. Certainly the only chick who he actually took any flack from because he enjoyed it a little bit and so did she. Pony wasn’t sure if it was all building up to something because she knew Curly wouldn’t ask her out if someone gave him five million dollars. She couldn’t really blame him. Darry and the gang had put the fear of god into him when Dallas caught him bringing her to Buck Merrill’s place.

 

It was only because Curly forgot his wallet, but apparently her even being in the driveway was like a crime against humanity.

 

They were approaching the underpass on the east side of the inner dispersal loop, which marked the boundary of the Shepard gang’s territory. There was some kind of code associated with being inside the loop or outside of it that Pony couldn’t exactly remember. Something about no Socs being allowed to start shit with Greaser gangs and vice versa. A lot of Greasers entered the loop for work, and a lot of the time they couldn’t afford to get in trouble on the job. Taunting and bullying definitely happened still, but no skin fighting.

 

“Can we take the road by the graveyard?” Curly asked.

 

“Yeah if you want. Looking to visit anyone?” Pony slowed their pace down so they wouldn’t miss the turn.

 

“Sure,” Curly said. They rode around the perimeter of the graveyard, which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. Next to the old fire museum Pony chained her bike to the fence post and they went through the gate on the northern side.

 

Curly took the lead and they walked east along the headstones, coming to stop at a flat one that hadn’t been too well maintained. He got on the ground and started tearing the weeds away from it, and Pony followed suit, brushing dirt and grass clippings off its surface. It was sad to see a headstone so neglected like that. Every month, Pony and her brothers spent a day doing up their parents graves and making them look nice.

 

The name on the headstone read Eduardo James Valdez, and Pony wracked her brain to put a face to it. He was sixteen when he died, the same age as her.

 

“Good old EJV,” Curly said. “You’d have hated him, but he was a real nutcase. We called him Eddie J. He fell off a bucking horse and split his head.”

 

“I can’t believe I never heard of that,” Ponyboy said.

 

“You wouldn’t have. Him and some other guys were messing around with horses that didn’t belong to them, wasn’t at a rodeo,” Curly explained.

 

“Oh, I get it. How’d you know him?”

 

“We ran moonshine for Tim sometimes. That guy would drive around at fourteen with no license. If I were to ever get myself killed, he’d have probably been involved.” Curly smiled as he recounted the stories, and Pony started feeling really sad. Like she always did when she heard about a kid dying young, even if they had it coming like Eddie J did. Every time it happened she couldn’t help but wonder if it’d be one of her guys next. “Aw man, Pony, don’t you go and get all teary eyed. You didn’t even know him.”

 

“I have to know him to be sad?”

 

“No use in crying,” Curly shrugged, but he rested a hand on top of Eddie’s plaque. Greasers wore greif like they wore leather jackets. Some were more forward with it than others, like Soda, who cried when he thought too hard about their mom and dad. Curly just got that far away look you get when the past touches you, then he put it all away.

 

They walked a bit slower back to the bike and Curly took the handlebars that time around. Pony held onto him and rested her head on his back, cherishing the warmth he gave off. She knew he’d blow off steam by peddling until they were almost flying down the streets. Pony screamed whenever he took a particularly sharp turn and he laughed at her endearingly. He was real handsome.

 

Curly was handsome in the way a frozen lake could be both beautiful and dangerous depending on when you looked at it. Ice sheets promised a cold and unforgiving darkness; but there was still that blue water underneath. Water that would shine warmly, gold and green in the sunny months. Sometimes Pony wondered if there were things only she could see.

 

They stopped in front of the Kendall-Whittier library and hopped off the bike. “Where’re you going from here?” Pony asked. Not that it was her business.

 

“I’ve got a stash in Springdale. Maybe I’ll find some action on the way there,” Curly said.

 

“Would it kill you to do something normal?”

 

“What, like draw trees and read?” he pulled the front of her hat down over her eyes playfully. “No shot.”

 

“ Shot is what you’re going to get one of these days,” Ponyboy replied, fixing her hat so she could see again. He was leaning on the handlebars of the bike, closer to her face than what could be taken as non-romantic from afar.

 

“There’s gonna be a mixer over in Crutchfield on Wednesday. Maybe you should show up, do something normal , you know,” Curly posited.

 

Pony’s face got pink. “Nothing crazy right?” she asked, because she had to ask.

 

“I wouldn’t invite you if it was. I’m not looking to get knocked out. Is that a yes?”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Pony compromised, which left Curly looking a little unsatisfied but she knew he liked the suspense.

 

“Hey!”

 

Curly’s head turned so fast Pony thought he might get whiplash. She felt her heart drop, thinking they were about to get jumped—or rather, Curly was about to get jumped and she’d have to watch—but the owner of the voice wasn’t a Soc. It was Dallas. He was standing on the street looking hacked off, squinting pointedly at Curly, who immediately jumped away from Pony like he’d been burned.

 

Dallas strolled right up to them and Curly tried to look tough and unsuspecting, but nobody could act nonchalant around Dallas. Even a Shepard brother.

 

“Long time no see, Dally, I thought you were still locked up,” Curly said as a greeting, shuffling back a little more yet to get Dallas out of his personal space. They were the same height but Dallas had a way of looking down his nose at people that would make anyone feel small.

 

“I think you better get going, Shepard,” Dallas said in a way that sounded imminently threatening, and Curly allowed his gaze to meet Pony’s one last time before he nodded respectfully and scampered off across the street, going in the direction Dallas had just come from.

 

Pony stood, a little humiliated, still holding onto her bike. Watching him go like he was a stray kitten. Dallas was staring at her with that hard expression he got whenever he disapproved of a situation. Pony just sighed and walked her bike over to the rack and began locking it up.

 

“I thought Darry told you not to talk to that kid,” Dallas said.

 

“We didn’t get in any trouble, I just picked him up from Tim’s store and we came right here.” It wasn’t the full truth, but Pony didn’t have to give every single detail of everything. Especially not to Dallas, who knew this was barely his business but butted in anyways because he was just incorrigible like that.

 

“Tim’s store? What were you doing over there?” Oh brother.

 

“I had to go get markers downtown and I was just riding around. I gotta return some books, now,” Pony said. She really wanted to fight with him, but nobody talked back to Dallas. She hated how meek it made her feel but it was better than getting on Dallas’ bad side. Pony was pretty sure he wouldn’t give a toss about her if she was a guy. Then again, maybe not. He seemed to just be interested in harping on her more than anything else. That probably wouldn’t change if she were a boy.

 

“Hey,” Dallas said and grabbed the hood of her coat to keep her from walking off, “Don’t think I’m just chasing him off to be a dick. He’s sweet on you, you know that?” Pony didn’t respond, but her face got even more red than it was before. It was one thing to have a crush privately, to have someone call you out was another. Dallas must have realized that what he said wasn’t news to her and his eyes widened. “You know it! And you’re hanging around him still? Glory, Ponygirl, what’s in your head recently?”

 

“Oh leave it alone,” she finally broke. “It’s bad enough you scared him off, why are you so interested in my business? You ain’t Darry so don’t go acting like you are.”

 

“What did he ask you? He ask you on a date?”

 

“Fuck off!” Pony screamed at him, much louder than she’d ever expected was even possible. She was always quiet and in her head, it wasn’t often that her feelings projected so tangibly. She was like Darry in that way. Reserved and private until the dams broke loose. It looked good on her because she was a girl, and people liked when girls were non-combative.

 

“The hell did you say?” Dallas asked, he looked genuinely perplexed, but Pony knew that would only last a few precious seconds before he got dangerously pissed off. Pony used those seconds to turn tail and sprint for the entrance to the library like she was being chased by wolves. She could hear Dallas shouting after her but it seemed he had the sense not to bring it into the building.

 

The librarian at the desk was at attention, leaning back to try and see what was just going on outside. When Pony walked up to her all out of sorts, she took her books with a sympathetic frown. “You alright, sweetie?” she asked.

 

“I’m fine. Sorry,” Ponyboy apologized, though she wasn’t sure what for.

 

Dallas was nowhere to be found when she crept outside an hour later. It was getting into the afternoon then, and that’s when most Greasers decided to hole up and get wasted. Wherever he went, Pony was just glad he wasn’t there . She biked home in silence and tried not to think about the encounter at the library.

 

Two-Bit was in the backyard when she wheeled her bike around the back of the house. They had no garage so she stored it back there to keep it from getting stolen. He was sitting in a collapsible chair with a beer in his hand, apparently watching the paint chip off the fence. Pony was going to ignore him, but didn’t get as far as the back door.

 

“What’s got you stomping around like that, horse girl?” Two-Bit asked.

 

“I’m not stomping,” Pony claimed, not sure if it was true. In any case, something clued Two-Bit off to her bad mood, it didn’t really matter what it was.

 

“You only stomp when you’re mad at someone. Was it Darry?”

 

“No,” Ponyboy shook her head. She wondered when Two-Bit got to know her so well, had it always been that way? Two-Bit beckoned her over and she sat in the grass in front of him.

 

“Socs?” he asked.

 

“Uh-uh,” she shook her head and pulled a handful of shoots out of the ground. “Has Dallas been acting mean to you lately?”

 

“Dally? I don’t know, he’s always kind of mean ain’t he,” Two-Bit replied. “He’s the one you’re mad at? What did he do?”

 

“You gotta promise not to tell Darry or Soda, but I was hanging out with Curly Shepard and he asked me to go to some party on Wednesday. Dallas saw us talking and ran him off, then laid into me about it. I don’t know why he gives a hoot, but he got real pissed at me and I even yelled at him. He didn’t used to be like that, usually he just leaves me be,” Ponyboy told him.

 

Two-Bit sat there with a bewildered expression for a moment, probably not expecting such a dramatic explanation from Pony, who always did her best to fly under the radar. “Shoot, kid, did you really yell at him?”

 

“I screamed at him. The lady in the library even heard it.”

 

“Well I can’t say he didn’t deserve that. But you really shouldn’t be paling around with Shepard,” Two-Bit said.

 

“I thought you were cool with Tim?” Pony asked.

 

“Me being cool with Tim isn’t the same as you hanging out with Curly. He’s a bad influence and you know it. Not to mention what Soda’ll do to him if he ever finds out that kid is trying to befriend you.”

 

“It’s not my fault I can only make friends with hoods,” Pony huffed. She tossed the grass away and it fell in a green flurry like snow.

 

“Why don’t you hang out with Kelly?” Kelly was Two-Bit’s younger sister.

 

“Kelly is eleven, Two. I’m not going to hang out with a fifth grader unless you’re paying me for babysitting,” Ponyboy deadpanned and Two-Bit yanked gently on one of her braids.

 

“Hey, Kelly is a cool girl,” he scolded her. “But yeah, okay. I guess there aren’t many girls to hang around with. None your brothers would approve of anyways.”

 

“Dallas isn’t gonna do a drive by on me, is he?” Pony asked, half sarcastic, and Two-Bit laughed.

 

“Nah, you put him in his place. He’s just been having a rough time of it. You know, since he got locked up.” Pony frowned again. There went the excuses. You just have to understand, he’s just having a hard time. Well it didn’t seem fair to take it out on her. “Hey,” Two-Bit leaned down to look her in the eyes. “You don’t know why Dally went to jail, do you?”

 

“Yeah I do. He busted a cop’s window.”

 

“And you think he got put away for two months just for that?”

 

“I don’t know.” Pony shrugged. Now that she thought about it, the story didn’t really make sense. She was just so used to antics like that it wasn’t worth questioning.

 

“You remember Sylvia?” Two-Bit prompted.

 

“Yeah.” Sylvia was hard to forget. She and Dallas were like a grease fire. Fighting tooth and nail one second then madly in love the next. They were crazy, the type of relationship Darry told Pony to never get into for the sake of his lifespan.

 

“You know how she moved away?” Pony nodded. She moved a little bit after Dallas got put away. Everyone assumed she just got tired of waiting on him. “Well, she’s part of the reason Dally got locked up.”

 

At Pony’s grave expression, he continued.

 

“I don’t really know how it started but Sylvia started hanging out with some of the River King folks out in midtown. You know how those guys are, nothing like the Greaser gangs you know over here. Dally wasn’t ever too happy about that but she swore there wasn’t nothing going on, until he found out she’d gotten hooked on smack when he found it in her car. I don’t think you know very much about what Dal went through in New York, but the gist of it is that he swore off hardcore shit like that and hasn’t touched a lick of it.

 

Well, anyway, Sylvia broke down and said she was gonna get clean and Dally forgave her. I think he threatened to tell her parents and get her sent to rehab immediately, so obviously she begged him not to. It seemed like everything was figured out until she showed up at Buck’s tripping balls, and Dally just lost it. He went out and found the dude who was dealing it to her and told him to stay away from her, but the guy apparently had no idea who he even was. He said Sylvia was his girlfriend, so it turned out she’d been cheating with her dealer.

 

I don’t think Dally was even mad at Sylvia, not at that point at least. He was more pissed at the guy for taking advantage of her, and they got in a fight. It was bad. The guy got put in the hospital and the cops had to taze Dally so he wouldn’t kill him, even though I’m pretty sure he was about one punch away from taking him out forever. He did break a cop’s window somewhere in there. The only reason he didn’t get a life sentence is because the dealer guy didn’t press charges for the assault. God only knows why. Sylvia ended up leaving Dal for the dealer, and they moved to Huston or something. He didn’t find out about that until Tim Shepard told him and I guess that was the nail in the coffin.”

 

Ponyboy just stared at him, biting the inside of her lip so she wouldn’t go slack-jawed. “Two, that’s fucking insane. How do you even know about all that?”

 

“Dally got real wasted the night he got out and ended up telling me almost everything. Tim was there too and he filled in what Dal didn’t want to say,” Two-Bit explained. “Yeah, it is crazy, but do you get why I told you all that? He’s real messed up right now and still beating himself up about Sylvia. He just doesn’t want you getting wrapped up in something like that, he knows how easy it is. Especially because you’re not one of the guys, you know?”

 

“Ugh, do I have to be a guy to be smart or something? Why does everyone act like I have brain damage?” Pony flopped onto her back in the grass, arms above her head. Two-Bit’s cautionary tale was going fine until he had to bring that up.

 

“It’s not that,” Tow-Bit said. “But do you think what happened to Sylvia would’ve happened if she were a dude?”

 

Pony thought for a second. “It would have been…less likely.”

 

“Exactly. The things people try on women aren’t the same as what they try on men. It doesn’t matter if you’re smart or not, it’s about getting into a position for it to happen at all. Er go, hanging out with the wrong folks.”

 

Pony sat up. “Curly ain’t a drug dealer ,” she said. “Juvenile delinquent yeah, but he’s not going to get me hooked on heroin. You’re friends with Tim Shepard, he fixes rodeos and runs hillbilly moonshine. He hates the River Kings.”

 

“Technicalities, horse girl,” Two-Bit said and tapped her forehead. “If you wanna date Curly Shepard it ain’t me who’s gonna get sent to the nunnery.”

 

“I think you’d like to get sent to a nunnery.” Then they were wrestling, and Pony felt okay again. Two-Bit hoisted her up and threw her over his shoulder, spinning around. She laughed wildly before he planted her back on the ground, to which they both stumbled like drunks and fell down again.

 

“Glory, what are y’all doing?” Soda shouted from the back door, which had Pony scrambling up and grabbing her backpack. She slipped past him at the door and heard him tell Two-Bit, “Two, Darry’s gonna kill you if he finds out you were drinking in the house.”

 

“I’m not in the house, soda can.”

 

Pony hurried upstairs after that and went about putting away her swag from the day. All the while images of Two-Bit’s story swirled around in her head. She still didn’t forgive Dallas for doing what he did, but now she was kind of worried about him, which was almost laughable. Worried about Dallas Winston? Her mind must have been messing with her. Dallas didn’t need anyone to worry about him, he needed people to fear him, or else he’d have nothing at all.

 

Still, she couldn’t imagine how he felt. Which wasn’t new, but now it was in a more human way than before. Could Dallas really get hurt? Not just bruised or beaten, but real hurt. The hurt Pony felt when her parents died, or when she thought Darry hated her guts. The type of hurt that sends you to jail for two months and has you acting crazy when you get out because you’re afraid of it happening again.

 

Afraid. Like how Johnny was so afraid of getting pummeled by Socs again he carried a blade for the past three years. Like how Darry was afraid the state would split them up. Pony sat at her desk, white knuckling her pencil as she furiously scribbled over and over the look in Dallas’ eyes when he was facing down the Socs at the drive-in, and when he was telling Curly to get lost. The look she swore she couldn’t figure out. Pony drew it until it started to look like something she knew well, but seemed so foreign and unrecognizable on his face.

 

She dropped her pencil and closed the book, even shoving it back into her backpack. Soda called her down to help make dinner a moment later, and she bounded quickly down the stairs.

 

*****

 

Wednesday rolled around with little fanfare. Johnny came around the house at noon and Pony went with him to the DIY skatepark a couple minutes from their houses. Two months ago, he found a board discarded in the dumpsters behind the university and he’d been learning his way around it in his free time. Without Dally around and his job taking up the rest of the time, there wasn’t much else for him to do but skate and go to the movies.

 

Pony sat on a wooden pallet and watched Johnny zip around. He was getting pretty good, not many people she knew were skaters. They were kind of their own separate group of people who didn’t hang around Greasers a lot because of their clashing music tastes and lifestyle choices.

 

“Hey maybe if you get good enough you can make some skater friends,” Pony said to Johnny when he rolled back over to her.

 

“I already have friends,” Johnny shrugged.

 

“Greaser friends. Not everyone is a Greaser.”

 

“Grease is all I need,” he replied simply. “All our friends are Greasers anyways.”

 

“Don’t you wish it wasn’t like that sometimes though?”

 

“I don’t know. I take what I get. You tried being friends with those Soc broads and it didn’t really work out too well.”

 

Pony drew a spiral in the corner of her sketchbook page. “Did you stick with them after I left?”

 

“Yeah a little. That Cherry was really upset though and I don’t think she stayed much longer. Two-Bit and Marcia got along like a wildfire though,” Johnny recounted. “Were they really nice to you?”

 

“They’re the nicest girls I’ve ever met,” Pony said truthfully. Johnny looked at her with sympathy. He could probably tell she was disappointed with how that night turned out and in herself for being so naive and optimistic.

 

“I’m sorry Dally had to go and ruin it.”

 

Ponyboy sighed wistfully and closed her book, tucking her pencil behind her ear. “Can you do one of them grind tricks on the railing?” she changed the subject.

 

“Sure,” Johnny agreed with no hesitation. He could move from a subject so easily, like the second you weren’t actively talking about it, it didn’t exist anymore. Pony liked that about him. He was real easy to get along with.

 

Johnny jogged up the stairs and down the sidewalk, taking a running start before jumping on his board and flying towards the railing. He got the deck up high enough and it slapped into the metal with a hollow THWACK , and he successfully surfed down the whole thing, only wobbling back and forth a little when he hit the concrete again. Pony whooped and clapped for him.

 

He skated back over and sat down next to her on the wooden pallet, flipping his long hair out of his face. It was down near his shoulders now with a slight wave that gave it a nice depth. Johnny always had the greatest hair but his parents never taught him how to take care of it, so he kept it short until he was sixteen. Pony couldn’t help but want to mess with it since he was the only one who let her get near their hair.

 

She gathered it up and tied it in a sort of messy but stylish bun, so that some strands still fell out but in an intentional fashion.

 

“I think you’d look good with a blowout. Like Farrah Fawcett,” Pony commented.

 

“Hells no,” Johnny shook his head but smiled meekly.

 

Their nice moment was immediately ruined by the loud revving of an engine. It made Johnny tense up like he’d just been dumped in ice water, and Pony looked over his shoulder, spying a red Corvette speeding down the street in their direction. She immediately focused on her lap, hoping against hope that the car would pay no mind to them and just leave, but she was kidding herself.

 

Nobody driving a car like that came over to the east side unless they were looking for someone to mess with. Two lone Greasers in a deserted park near the tracks was like getting served up on a silver platter.

 

Pony heard the car roll to a stop on the crunchy street and cut the engine. She started running through scenarios in her mind. They would definitely jump Johnny, probably taunt her while they did it and make her watch them beat him up. She’d heard a dozen stories like that from other Greaser girls. The Socs couldn’t touch them so they made them watch, or scared them off by making threats.

 

“Gre-ease!” shouted a Soc from the top of the stairs. Johnny and Pony immediately got to their feet and stood close together. They were down in the bowl, and the easiest way out was where the Socs were standing.

 

There were only three of them, but they were all kind of broad. They must have been on the football or rugby teams. Eventually they stopped a couple feet away and, and it was a sort of Mexican stand off. Pony was hugging her sketchbook to her chest and staring hard at the floor, trying not to make eye contact.

 

“Hey, Rich, that’s the chick from the drive in, remember I told you about her?” one of the Socs said, and Pony recognized him as Dobson. The one who Bob tried to get her to kiss. “She doesn’t look so pretty now, though.”

 

“Looks like she picked up one of her own kind this time,” Rich said, and they all snickered. Ponyboy raged silently. If she were a guy she’d be expected to talk back, but she knew it would be better for her to just shut her trap and act deaf.

 

“Don’t y’all have better things to do?” Johnny asked them. When they first met, neither of them were seen as very tough. As the youngest and smallest in their group, it was quietly accepted that they were the ones in need of protection rather than the ones who had to do the protecting. It wasn’t like that anymore, not that Pony preferred it.

 

Looking at the both of them now, it was clear that Johnny would be capable of protecting her if he needed to. He was always a good fighter but he was a normal size for his age now, and in wrestling matches with Darry, he could actually come close to winning. Johnny knew it, too, and wasn’t so timid and jumpy anymore, trading fear for watchful awareness. He knew if someone started shit with him now, he wouldn’t have to lay down and take it.

 

“Like hanging around with harlots like your little friend here?” Dobson asked with a bitter grin.

 

“Dobson, you can’t hold it against him. You know what their mothers must be like over there,” the third Soc joked, making an obscene gesture with his hand that made Pony’s stomach lurch with disgust.

 

“Oh, I know what their mothers are like alright,” Dobson responded.

 

“Are you done?” Johnny interrupted them.

 

“Aw, defensive,” Dobson said back to him. “Hey, sweetie, my eyes are up here.”

 

Pony glanced momentarily away from the floor and at Dobson’s face. He had round features and green eyes. Maybe he would have been handsome if he wasn’t so terrifying. She saw Johnny slowly move his hand towards his back pocket while everyone was focused on her.

 

“You’re out of your territory,” Ponyboy said quickly.

 

“And you’ve been out of yours since you tried to weasel your way in with our girls at the drive in,” Dobson spat back. He sounded just like Bob. “Next time stick with your own kind—dirt. You know what a Greaser is? Hood trash with long hair.”

 

As he said it, he lunged forwards and yanked hard on one of Pony’s braids, so fast neither she nor Johnny could react, and how could they? Socs weren’t supposed to lay a hand on Greaser girls, especially not with their guys around. Dobson was effectively declaring some kind of war by being so bold with Johnny there to witness it.

 

He pulled her so hard that Pony stumbled to her knees in front of him, dropping her sketchbook. All the Socs laughed at her as she gathered it back up and held the side of her head, boy did he pull hard.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you man!?” Johnny was shouting. “You know what’ll happen to you if the word gets out about this? It ain’t gonna be pretty I’ll tell you that, you looking to get rumbled on?” He sounded just like Dallas. Words like that out of Dallas’ mouth would scare anyone straight. If only he were there.

 

“Won’t be no rumble,” Dobson said confidently. “She knows she deserves what’s coming to her. Gotta break even, you understand?” He was facing Johnny but Pony knew he was really talking to her. Warning her that the business they started at the drive-in wasn’t finished.

 

At that, Johnny’s knife was in his hand, and suddenly all the Socs decided they were standing a bit too close. For a moment nobody knew what to do, but Johnny took a nail-biting slash at Dobson and two seconds later she and him were alone in the skatepark once more. Johnny stayed in place until the Corvette’s engine started, then tossed the knife away, it clattered on the concrete.

 

He crouched down next to Pony with a heartbreaking expression on his face, and Pony couldn’t stand it being directed at her of all people. She felt the urge to start crying but tried to hold it in, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Pony, it’s okay, they’re gone,” Johnny said, putting his arms around her as he did, like he was trying to hide her from the world. “I think you ought to tell Darry about this.”

 

“Oh what can he even do?” Pony said, tears rolling down her face, pushing away from him. “You heard what he said, there won’t be no rumble. Not unless they do to me what they did to that girl down in midtown. This is what they do instead, see how close they can get without crossing the line, and I gave them a reason! I’m such an idiot!”

 

“This ain’t your fault, Ponyboy, how can you even say that?” Johnny responded, shocked. “Maybe no rumble but I’ll bet Darry could scare em off real quick.”

 

“They weren’t scared of Dallas, not scared enough, anyways. If he wasn’t enough to shake them nobody can,” Pony replied hopelessly. “They’re just going to do this until they get bored. That’s how it always is.”

 

“Nah, they just need to be put in their place.”

 

“And how do you figure I should do that, huh? Fight it out with them like you boys do? Yeah, that’d end real well for me, I think. Me and Bob Sheldon fist fighting, why didn’t I think of that!”

 

“Alright, I didn’t think about that,” Johnny said, now entirely at a loss.

 

“I thought so,” Pony snapped with more edge than he deserved. It wasn’t him she was mad at, but the fact that absolutely nobody could help her. “Like I said, wait it out.”

 

“That’s so horrible though,” Johnny replied contemplatively. “Just hoping that one day they decide to stop, while you live in fear?”

 

“And it’s so easy to be a girl, ain’t it?”

 

Johnny flushed. “Don’t know about that anymore.”

 

A while ago, Johnny had told her that after he and Two-Bit got minorly roughed up on their way back from the DX. He didn’t say it maliciously, but out of ignorance that instead of having different problems, girls just didn’t have any at all. Which probably seemed true from his perspective. It hurt Pony’s feelings at the time and he apologized but she knew he didn’t actually understand why what he said was wrong. Maybe he was catching on now.

 

Johnny held her hand while they walked back home, if only to make sure nobody could come up and swipe her off the sidewalk. Pony was somewhat comforted by the gesture but stared at her shoes the whole way. Kicking rocks and trying not to let the incident ruin her mood for the rest of the day. That party Curly invited her to was at five in the evening and she’d made up her mind that she was going.

 

Darry would have told her to stay in after the showdown at the skatepark, but Pony reasoned that she shouldn’t have to live her life in fear. She was still going to go out and act unbothered, because what the Socs really wanted was to scare her. To knock her down a peg and destroy her confidence. At least if they did decide to kill her or something, it wouldn’t be while she was cowering in fear.

 

Soda and Steve were home which gave her a great excuse to not be downstairs, so she scurried into her room and decided the best way to distract herself would be to start getting ready for the night out.

 

****

 

The lack of “cool” things to wear in Ponyboy’s closet was not lost on her for a single day of her life. Her selection of clothing could probably be mistaken for that of a minimalist teenage boy, considering almost every single one of her shirts and too many of her pants once belonged to Soda or Darry. More of the former, because Darry’s clothes were too big even when he was her age.

 

Despite her lack of practice, Pony knew that the key component of an outfit was the statement piece. One could wear the most plain combination of clothes they wanted, and still elevate the look by throwing in something tastefully eye catching. A Soc would probably use jewelry or fancy shoes, but Pony had neither of those things. All she had to work with were six pairs of nearly identical jeans and equally dusty shoes, which meant the statement of her outfit would have to be contained entirely within the shirt.

 

Her shirts were fairly diverse, though the ones she wore the most were Soda’s, which she immediately disregarded as she didn’t need to look like a miniature version of him tonight. The top she ended up picking was a less baggy long-sleeved one that she usually wore under a T-shirt, but it had green and blue horizontal stripes that kind of gave a festive vibe. With plain jeans and her rarely worn red converse it was almost Christmas themed, and Pony was decently proud of herself.

 

“Hey Soda,” she said as she was making her way towards the back door, “I’m going out.”

 

Usually she’d have to specify exactly where she was going and who she thought would be there (if anyone), but since Darry wasn’t home, that left Soda to lay down the law and he was never as thorough.

 

“When are you planning on being back?” he asked, still paying attention to the television.

 

“Eight or nine maybe.” It wasn’t a school night so her curfew was technically midnight, but saying she wanted to be home earlier always softened the blow.

 

“You got your phone?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Kay, don’t get hit by a car.”

 

With her freedom secured, Pony jumped on her bike and made her way hastily towards Crutchfield. Curly didn’t tell her the exact address of the place but with Greaser functions, it was always kind of obvious where they were going down. On nights when Buck decided to throw parties people would park clear down the block.

 

Her intuition proved to be correct when after following the vague sound of music she found herself in the outskirts of the neighborhood, bordering the interstate. There wasn’t a lot around and the buildings were generally dilapidated and abandoned, but Pony knew a lot of Greaser families still lived there.

 

On the corner of Troost and Newton she found the party. Cars and bikes were parked haphazardly on the surrounding yards and street, the hubbub of a large group of people emanated from the place. It was a modest, mint green affair with a big fence around the property, which gave it more room to hold people. Ponyboy deposited her bike near the porch and invited herself in.

 

Loud voices, laughter, and music hit her all at once. There were quite a few people there already and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It seemed like a pretty vanilla atmosphere. Underage drinking and weed. So Curly hadn’t been lying about it not being too crazy. People were already dancing in the living room and mingling in the kitchen. Pony took her jacket off and stuffed it safely near the redundant coat rack, making her way through the crowd.

 

She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she was looking for Curly. It made her feel kind of dumb. They weren’t a thing, but him inviting her somewhere (even if it wasn’t formally a date) did have her kind of excited.

 

Pony pushed her way deeper into the house, trying to get the lay of the land. She didn’t really recognize anyone and they mostly paid her no mind. The garage yielded no results, and neither did the backyard. A pang of disappointment shot through Pony’s chest as she meandered back into the front area. He wasn’t there.

 

She was sitting next to a couple on the couch who were wrapped up in a frankly disturbing make out session. The trashy music created a film over her other senses, so that all Pony could feel was deep humiliation and discomfort. Maybe it would have made more sense to leave, but she went all the way out there. She might as well pretend she didn’t care, that she only went for her own enjoyment and definitely no other reason.

 

“Ponyboy, hi.” Joanne from the art store was standing in front of her with a red solo cup of something in her hand. She looked halfway concerned.

 

Pony picked her head up off the couch cushion. “Hi,” she greeted a little surprised.

 

“You look like something’s wrong,” Joanne said. “Did a guy try and hit on you or something?”

 

“No,” Pony said. “No, I got invited by someone and they didn’t show up.”

 

“Ohh,” Joanne replied. “What an asshole. I’m sorry about that. Do you want something to drink?”

 

“I can’t have alcohol.”

 

“There are some Capri-suns in the garage fridge.”

 

Twenty minutes later, she and Jo (they’d moved up to nickname basis now) were sitting on a pair of lawn chairs in the backyard next to a real fire pit, watching some drunk guys ride a mechanical bull. Jo was getting to the higher end of tipsy and Pony still had three unopened juice boxes in her lap.

 

“You don’t look the type to come to these things,” Jo said.

 

“Well I ain’t supposed to. I only came because…” Pony thought for a minute before deciding to just tell the truth. “I only came because this guy I know told me to. I know that’s stupid, I know.”

 

“No, it’s not stupid. You look like you’re fifteen. Who would blame you for being hopeful? It ain’t you who’s the stupid one for having normal feelings, never let anyone make you feel like that,” Jo replied earnestly.

 

“I’m sixteen,” Pony corrected her.

 

“I remember sixteen. It’s rough.”

 

“It’s too rough. How did you ever figure it out?”

 

Jo laughed. “I haven’t figured it out. Why else would I be getting drunk at a house party at twenty years old?” Pony laughed too but inside she was sad. Jo was a good person, she didn’t deserve to already be at a dead end in her young life. “Are you still in school, Pony?” she asked with a semi-serious tone.

 

“Yeah. I graduate this year though because I skipped a grade,” Pony replied.

 

“That’s good, Pony. Stay on the train. Don’t go jumping off and loose it like I did. I always knew you must be a smart cookie,” Jo said.

 

“If I even can stay on it.” Pony chucked her empty Capri-sun into the fire pit. “White trash like me don’t get many chances to mess up.” She was combining the Soc’s words with Darry’s in her head. That was happening more recently. She didn’t know if it was her that was changing or if she could just see it better now. The way she was different, different worries and expectations than all the people she thought were her equals.

 

“Don’t call yourself that,” Jo scolded her, laying a hand on Pony’s arm. “You think you’re powerless now but you’re not. You will be if you forget it. So don’t you ever forget it.”

 

Jo sounded drunk now, and Pony was inclined to stop listening to her because of it. She looked at the sky and saw that she’d missed the sunset staring into the fire. “Jo, thanks for hanging out with me,” she said.

 

“Don’t thank me, sister. Keep being smart, Pony,” Jo responded with a sparkling smile. The kind you only show when you’re truly happy or very wasted. Ponyboy suspected the latter.

 

She left her Capri-suns on the seat and shivered, it was a damn cold night, and the cloud cover didn’t help. Pony unburied her jacket and hurriedly pulled it on as she walked out the door, zipping it up again to her neck and even considering putting the hood up, but it would just blow down while she was riding home. A harsh crosswind hit her from the side as she was going down Quincy Avenue, and tiny sprinkles of rain hit her face and exposed hands. It seemed she had decided to get home at the right time.

 

Headlights turned out in front of her a few streets down, they were bright and she didn’t see that it was the red Corvette until it was basically on top of her. Pony’s blood ran cold and froze her heart. A dark feeling in her gut told her something bad was about to happen, and she was proved right when the Corvette sped towards her and she swerved precariously as it ran her off the road.

 

Pony fell off her bike and crashed violently into the sidewalk on the side of the road. Her bike went skidding off and she gasped for air, the side of her body had absorbed the full weight of the fall and knocked her breathless. Worse yet was that the sound of a car engine was completely absent. This was no hit and run.

 

She stumbled to her feet with as much strength as she could manage, seeing five Socs—Bob, Dobson, and Randy now all together—come rushing towards her. Their movements were messy and she just knew they were drunk. Pony sucked in a full breath and spun on her heel, limping for a second before she took off running. She tried to channel her track practice, breathe, run, breathe, stay in your lane, let your feet fly. They were chasing her, there were five of them.

 

A clearing appeared and now she was running on wet grass, she was breathing heavy but she couldn’t let them catch her. No lights, no body , just big oak trees and far away street lights. The air was so cold her throat was burning and there were fast heavy footsteps and she could hear them jeering, cheering at whoever it was on her heels.

 

Eventually, because of course there had to be one, a hand gripped her hoodie and the sudden stop combined with her forward momentum sent her plummeting, but the Soc didn’t let go of her. It was Dobson, still holding her hood like it was the scruff of her neck. He was talking gibberish that sounded gross and threatening at the same time and she elbowed him hard in the ribs.

 

He threw her on the floor, then someone grabbed a fistful of her hair. She screamed and someone slapped her, it was Bob and he looked terrifying. He told her to shut up and she did, but not before spitting on his nice coat.

 

“Oh just for that you’re gonna get it, Grease,” he said and swung her around by the front of her jacket. Another Soc caught her and restrained her as Bob unzipped her hoodie, then pushed her into Randy, who tore it off her shoulders while everyone laughed. Pony tried to rip it away from him but Bob put his arms around her waist and carried her away. She was shouting. No, stop, no .

 

Pony wondered if the other four were just going to stand there while Bob did whatever he wanted to do with her. Maybe he told them not to go in until he was done. Horrifying pictures filled her head and it was enough to trip some switch in her mind. Enough to let the hatred and violence she held deep in her chest explode and consume her. They wouldn’t get her tonight. They would never get her again. She reeled her arm back and punched Bob so hard in the jaw his entire body jerked to the side like he’d been shot in the head. The kind of punch Darry would throw during a rumble, the kind that hurt both people involved.

 

But Pony didn’t care if she got hurt, only that Bob got hurt more . He glowered at her with a strange expression, holding his face in one hand. Dobson stepped forward to defend him but Bob told him to stay put.

 

“The little bitch wants to fight, let her try, let her see,” Bob said, “come on! Hit me again!”

 

Pony lurched towards him and he decked her right between her eyes, she fell down, seeing her own blood spray across the pavement of the deserted basketball court they were on. Like some kind of fighting arena. The Socs whooped and cheered, but Pony just moaned and got back up, feeling red hot and vengeful. She jumped on him and took him to the floor, that’s how she would get Steve when they wrestled sometimes, just throw her whole weight and let him loose the battle of trying to stay standing.

 

Bob was shocked for a second and she punched him a few times, then he rolled over and slammed her into the ground by her shoulders. Pony curled her head in and just let her back take the damage, he wasn’t paying attention to her hands and she ripped a handful of his hair out, then kneed him in the crotch and kicked him off of her.

 

It was properly raining now. Loud like the roar of a crowd, like a rumble. Bob was circling her, he was bleeding too and the left side of his face was getting red from her beating.

 

“Bob, what are we doing?” Randy shouted.

 

“Come on! Do it!” Bob screamed at her again. “You want to!”

 

Pony took a fake step forwards and Bob all but jumped back. She couldn’t help but smile wickedly at his involuntary expression of fear. He wasn’t unafraid of her, and now everyone knew it. And he knew she was taunting him. In a second they were on each other again and Pony wasn’t sure who was winning. She felt like she was deaf, because all she could hear was a heartbeat and the ocean rushing in her ears as he hit her and kicked her, and she scratched at his face and bit his fingers until she felt a crunch.

 

It was dirty, maybe the most violent thing she’d ever seen. Pony wasn’t allowed to rumble, obviously, and she’d only ever watched one of them. You didn’t fight like this at a rumble. You fought like this when you were pretty sure you were going to die; and Pony was pretty sure she was about to die. She knew she couldn’t beat Bob. He was almost twice her size and drunk, pissed off, and worse yet he had something to hate her for. He was going to kill her, or at least come close to it if he truly wanted to—and Pony believed that he did.

 

Maybe he was going to kill her, but she wasn’t going to die hiding her face and crying in fear like she had every right to. She was going to try and kill him back. She was going to fight so dirty that everyone who saw her body knew it was a bad end, a death she fought to earn. Better than any death Bob would ever have. Pony bet nobody ever fought him back like this. She wondered if anyone had ever actually fought him at all, like truly wanted him dead.

 

She’d get her answer when suddenly Bob wasn’t moving as much, and she was on top of him. His hands were digging into her shoulders but he couldn’t stop the side of her fist slamming over and over into his head. Pony realized then that it really was quiet, and Bob was sputtering.

 

“Stop!” his voice was hoarse, and she was just staring at him, unable to breathe. Like she was underwater.

 

“Bob let’s just go man,” Randy was yelling. He was the only one there, Dobson and the other two guys were gone. They must have thought they were actually about to see someone die and made a run for it.

 

Randy dragged Bob up under his arms and Ponyboy fell backwards onto the concrete, she watched them stumble off into the rain, into the darkness of the park. Boy was it real dark. Pony rolled her head, painfully, like it was being raked over hot irons, so that her eyes were facing the sky.

 

Raindrops replaced the stars, or maybe the stars were just falling. Or maybe she was a dying star and her implosion was pulling them into her, where they disappeared into the vacuum of pain that occupied her body more than her soul did anymore. It was cold and it was dark, and that’s how Greasers died. The one thing Pony knew, though, was that she wasn’t scared. Not a lick. The monsters in the dark got her, but she got them back. They stumbled hurt and scared into the shadows they came from, and she was so cold and it hurt, but everyone would know she died brave instead of violated and victimized.

 

At least she hoped they would know. Bob would know, and maybe he was the only person who really mattered.

 

*****

 

Dallas Winston had been in a dark mood since nine o’clock. And it had been a long four hours since then.

 

Eight o’clock was when he walked through the door of the Curtis home to find Soda, Darry, and Two-Bit all sitting in the kitchen with every phone on the property ringing. Dallas asked who died, and all of them looked at him like he was Adolf Hitler come back to life.

 

“What the fuck happened?” he asked.

 

“Pony hasn’t come home,” Soda said like he was talking to a hallucination instead of a real person. He got like that when he was worried to death.

 

“Figures. She went to that house party over on Troost,” Dallas said nonchalantly.

 

Darry and Soda gave one another a look that said Did she tell you that? She didn’t tell me that… “Okay, where she went is irrelevant,” Darry sighed, troubled and old. “Just that Soda here says she told him she’d be back by nine and it’s nine-thirty.”

 

“Well I wouldn’t send out the national guard just yet,” Dally said. “She’s a teenage girl, you know how it is.”

 

“Yes, she is a teenage girl,” Darry replied and stood up so Dally would know he meant business. “And you’ve got no idea what it’s like to try and deal with one, so don’t you go telling me when I should be concerned or not!”

 

“Cool it, I wasn’t telling you how to feel about shit,” Dallas replied. “I’m just saying she’s gonna come home late sometimes.”

 

“Not the point, Dal,” Two-Bit said finally, then approached him. “Would you come out here?”

 

They walked out onto the front porch and as soon as the door was closed Two-Bit started in on him.

 

“I know it was Curly Shepard who asked her to go to that party,” he said.

 

“And?” Dallas asked.

 

“And? The boys in there don’t know about it and I think we’d all rather they didn’t. You wanna take care of this quietly or not?” Two-Bit crossed his arms and Dally huffed.

 

“Why are you asking me?”

 

“We don’t need those two psychos out there looking, because they can’t keep their heads. Find her, Dal,” Two-Bit said, opening the door. “Just find her.”

 

Dallas sighed, asking God why he hated him, then turned his collar up in the oncoming storm and got back behind the wheel of Tim Shepard’s car. He turned the radio all the way up and flipped a few people off changing lanes on the highway and got to the Shepard’s haunt in about five minutes. He really hoped Pony wasn’t there, if only because he knew who and what usually hung out in that dump.

 

He all but broke the door down in the back of the shop, which was where everyone liked to get high and shoot the shit because Tim was the boss and he didn’t give a flying fuck. There were a few gang members back there, all of them were watching some program on the television, and all of them sat up and whirled around when they heard Dally slam the door against the wall.

 

His eyes widened when he spotted Curly with them. The gang members seemed to realize Dallas wasn’t there for them and they all got up and ran out of the room, some of them making “oohhh” sounds which suggested that they thought Curly’s dismay was hilarious. Dally stalked over and Curly shrunk pathetically under him.

 

“Hey man I didn’t do nothing—” Curly started to say but Dallas grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up off the couch, bringing him in close.

 

“You invited Ponyboy to that party and she ain’t back yet,” Dallas told him.

 

“Um,” Curly looked away for a second and Dallas shook him.

 

“Answer, dammit!”

 

“Man I didn’t even go to that party!” Curly shouted. “I didn’t go, I didn’t do anything to her.”

 

Dally’s grip faltered a bit and he fought off one of the nastiest rage migraines he’d ever felt coming on. “You didn’t go?” he asked. “You told her to show up and you didn’t go? She went, you fucking sack of shit! Are you high right now!?”

 

“Uh, not anymore, I don’t think,” Curly stammered, then yelped when Dallas threw him back down on the couch.

 

“You’re coming with me.” Dally pointed at him. “You’re gonna talk to Darrel and tell him you stood up his kid sister, and explain why it’s your fault they can’t find her.”

 

Curly looked like he wanted to do anything except that, but the metaphorical smoke rising from Dally’s head made him get his coat and shoes on in less than thirty seconds. As they walked back out to the car, Curly struggled to keep up with the other hood. “I mean are you sure this is a big deal, man?” he opened the car door without commenting on it belonging to his brother. “It was just a house party, like maybe she just made a friend or something.”

 

“A friend?” Dallas asked incredulously, shoving the keys in the ignition.

 

“Okay, okay. But this is Pony we’re talking about, she doesn’t get into trouble like that. You know she ain’t some hoe.”

 

“That why you’re sweet on her?” Dallas pulled the car out onto the road and turned sharply onto the main throughway.

 

“Man shut the hell up,” Curly said, slouching in his seat. “Isn’t she best buddies with that Johnny kid you’re always hanging out with? Don’t he work ‘round here? He oughta know something.”

 

Curly had a point, and despite how much Dallas really didn’t want to listen to what the kid was saying, he’d be negligent if he didn’t at least check. He parked illegally across from the bar Johnny was working at and strolled inside, Curly trailing him like a subordinate lackey. They got a handful of dirty looks on their way to the hostess, who looked a little scared when Dally asked her to send Johnny out front.

 

Outside, Dally watched Johnny’s eyes go wide when he spotted them through the glass and he came out looking comically corporate in his work uniform. “Gosh, something bad must’ve happened if you two are going around together,” he said.

 

“Shove it,” Curly snapped.

 

“Have you seen Pony tonight?” Dallas asked him.

 

“No,” Johnny said. “Why?”

 

“She didn’t come home when she was supposed to after going to a party this chucklefuck—” Dallas gave Curly a shove, “told her to go to. Darry and Soda are about to blow a gasket.”

 

“I don’t know anything about it, but…” Johnny suddenly went rigid and green in the face. He breathed in shallowly and looked into Dally’s eyes, talking to him without words. It made Dally’s stomach flip over.

 

“What, Johnny?” he demanded, stepping closer. “ What? ”

 

Curly was standing right next to them now too, eyes searching between the both of them while Johnny seemed to be doing his best not to barf. “This morning,” he said shakily, “at the skate park. You know those Socs from the drive in?”

 

“What Socs?” Curly asked, exasperated. “Dally, what is he talking about?”

 

But Dally stayed silent, both begging for Johnny to give him answers and hoping he wouldn’t say anything at the same time.

 

“They were there ,” Johnny continued, he was getting worked up. “They were saying some real nasty things about her and one of the big guys even pulled her hair. They was talking about how she needed to know her place and that they ain’t done with her. Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know what they were even saying but she was so upset about it. I pulled my blade on ‘em and they ran off but if she’s alone —” Johnny cut himself off, apparently unable to go further.

 

He didn’t need to keep talking, because Dallas was telling him to go back inside and hauling Curly back to the car.

 

“What was he talking about?” Curly yelled at Dally, who was going about twenty over trying to get back to the east side.

 

“ Shut the fuck up ,” Dallas replied, voice raised even louder. He should have left Curly at the bar with Johnny, he really couldn’t even stand to look at his face in that moment. “What house is that party at?” he asked gravely.

 

“Uhm, the green one— with the brick pillars out front and, and the shed in the side yard,” Curly replied. He was all out of sorts, like a screw came loose and now all his bones were falling out of place. Dallas was looking at him crazy because maybe the kid really did care about Ponyboy, and he was just that unbelievably stupid.

 

The drive over to Cherokee Heights was completely silent save for the sound of the engine working overtime and the mantra in Dallas’ head telling him not to reach over and bash Curly’s head into the dashboard. They turned onto Quincey and suddenly Curly was shouting.

 

“Stop! Stop, look right there,” he said, pointing over to the side of the road. Sitting there abandoned on the sidewalk was Pony’s bike, and Pony wasn’t with it.

 

Dally parked the car with half of it up on the curb and didn’t even lock it when he jumped out. If Tim got robbed he could really care less. It was raining out. Huge, cold drops that soaked through in seconds. Dallas was wearing two jackets and Curly somehow had the wherewithal to leave the house in something waterproof.

 

“God dammit!” Dallas shouted, kicking the bike’s metal frame. His mind was racing. He wanted to take it out on Curly but he couldn’t.

 

“Maybe she got caught in the rain,” Curly said, not really sounding like he believed it. “That park right there has one of them covered sitting areas.” He pointed to their right into a nearly pitch black clearing. Dallas could see the structure he was talking about only because the lights on the other side of the block made its shape stand out. Just past it was a poorly lit basketball court.

 

Dally took the lead while they walked over. The sound of the rain in the tall trees was like the roar of cicadas. Their footsteps were wet in the grass. Dally could already see that the pavilion was deserted and he’d started to entertain the idea of calling the cops when an oddity on the basketball court caught his eye.

 

Only one corner of it had any real light, but it was enough for him to get a glimpse of something lying almost directly in the middle of the court. Dally didn’t believe that the universe could speak to you, but he got a freezing sensation in his limbs that couldn’t be described as anything else. He left the pavilion, his legs felt wooden and stiff as he approached the court, still not sure exactly what he was looking at until he heard Curly scream from behind him.

 

“Oh God!” Curly was yelling, over and over again. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, Dallas was only a second behind him, and the look on Curly’s face was enough to make him nauseous even without the scene in front of him.

 

To say there was a lot of blood would be an understatement. A gross understatement. It was all over the concrete, sprayed everywhere like some amateurs had come out and tried to replicate a crime scene. Ponyboy was covered in it. Her shirt and hands were dyed red and a thick river of it was coated over the bottom of her face, coming from her nose.

 

She looked dead . At least that’s what Dallas’ mind was telling him as he put an arm under her neck and pulled her unmoving body onto his lap. Her face was paper white and it looked like she’d been hit by a car, even her hands were bruised and cut. On top of that, she was soaking wet. A few feet away her purple jacket was tossed carelessly on the ground. There were muddy footprints encircling the scene, bloody ones, too. Some that obviously belonged to Ponyboy and others that were too big to belong to anyone but a man.

 

Curly was holding one of Pony’s hands in his own, eyes locked on her battered face. He looked sick. He looked like he was having a nightmare, and Dallas couldn’t really blame him. He felt like he was having a nightmare, too. Images of Johnny from three years ago, then of Sylvia were superimposing themselves on Ponyboy’s face.

 

Dally pressed his ear to Pony’s chest, not liking how she was so limp that her head rolled all the way back. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus over the rain and the wind but he couldn’t. All he could hear was the beating of his own heart and the blood racing in his ears.

 

“Dallas,” Curly said, “Dallas is she dead? Is she dead?” he was crying.

 

“Hold her head off the ground god dammit,” Dally clipped and hovered over Pony, making a fist and harshly dragging his knuckles up and down her sternum. “Come on, Ponygirl,” he said. Her face didn’t move, so he did it again, each time more insistent until miraculously, a sound escaped her lips.

 

“Pony,” Curly said and held her face in his hands, searching for evidence that she was actually alive. Dally was holding her now too, the both of them trying to shield her from the rain.

 

Pony’s face twitched, then her eyes cracked open. Probably as far as they could. They were unseeing, staring into the patch of sky between the Greaser’s heads. As soon as they opened she seemed to lose the battle with unconsciousness again, and her eyes shut despite Curly begging her to stay awake.

 

“Give her to me,” Dallas commanded, bracing his arms under her shoulders and knees, he hoisted her up with the help of Curly, who gently guided her head to lay on Dally’s shoulder. “Run ahead and start the car.”

 

The jog back to the street felt like sixty years, and every step he took felt like it was irreversibly breaking something very important. Curly was holding the back seat door open and he slammed it shut when Dally threw himself in, running to the driver’s seat and shifting them into drive before he even got his own door closed. Dallas had left the key in the ignition.

 

On the way to the house, Dally took both of his jackets off and wrapped them around Ponyboy, who didn’t respond to the action except by breathing shallowly through her mouth. Every time her breath hitched Dallas was afraid she’d stop breathing entirely. They had no idea how much internal damage had been done—really no idea what had been done at all. It filled him with rage that had nowhere to go, nothing to hurt because the hurt thing was lying unconscious in his lap.

 

The lights were on when they got to the house and Curly almost drove the car right into the living room, he was screaming for help before they even got out of the car. Dallas ran into the house, through the already open door, which looked like it had been all but busted off the hinges.

 

“Jesus christ!” That was Two-Bit, who launched himself off the couch just in time for Dally to deposit Ponyboy on it, who made a small noise of discomfort, but at least it was something.

 

Darry and Soda seemed to teleport in at the same time. Soda was screaming at the top of his lungs, NO, NO . He probably thought she was dead. Like Dallas thought when he first laid eyes on her. Someone said she was alive and he turned his head so fast it had to have pulled a muscle. It was Curly. Who really should have put four states between himself and the Curtis house by now, because Soda ran at him and had him up against the wall before you could say Jack Robinson.

 

While them and Two-Bit were screaming bloody murder at each other, Darry got Dallas’ arm in a vice grip and pulled him down to where he was kneeling next to his sister. He looked terrifying, the only tell that he was scared in any way were the tears gleaming in his eyes and the tremor of his voice when he said “She needs more than heat.”

 

An hour later, Dally was sitting next to Curly outside the hospital. Curly had a new shiner on his eye from where Soda socked him one real good, and he was huddled into his coat in a way that made him look real young, and not at all like Tim. His leg was bouncing a million times a minute and he kept shaking his head, eyes glossed over.

 

Dallas was on his second cigarette and he offered one to the other Greaser, who didn’t even look at him. It was still coming down like cats and dogs. The rain sounded like rocks on the portico. Two-Bit had gone to get Johnny from work and Dally could only dread how this was going to go over with him.

 

“I should’ve gone,” Curly said lowly. “I should’ve… At least if I was with her on the way home, or if I drove her…”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dallas hissed. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself.”

 

“Jesus, Dallas, I don’t feel fuckin’ sorry for myself!” Curly snapped.

 

“Yeah listen here you little shit,” Dallas replied and threw his cigarette into the rain, then grabbed Curly’s face harshly. “You don’t ever get to play around with her like that ever again. Ever again, you dig? If her brothers don’t come out here and put you on a damn intubated tube I might be inclined to do it myself.”

 

“I understand,” Curly said. He looked more mad than scared and Dally didn’t like that.

 

“ Do you understand?”

 

Curly slapped Dally’s hands away from him. “You think I meant for this to happen? I didn’t know the Socs were after her, who would ever think Pony of all people could even get mixed up in that? Yeah, I’m a fucking asshole for standing her up but now I’m even worse because I let her get put in the god damn hospital over it too. Don’t you go saying I don’t have a right to be upset at nobody,” Curly retorted. “And it ain’t just Pony. You know it ain’t.”

 

Dally shoved Curly and fell back onto the bench. The kid had a point again. The Socs had crossed a line, maybe even several of them, lines they didn’t even know existed until now. There would probably be a rumble over this. Where and when was yet to be seen, but Dallas was so livid he was sure if he caught wind of the people involved he’d probably kill all of them wherever and whenever he found them. Twenty-five to life wasn’t shit .

 

“You should go home,” Dallas said. He felt exhausted like he never did. “Or wherever the hell you keep yourself. Just go home.”

 

Two-Bit picked him up from the hospital with Johnny in the car, who Dally could tell had been crying at some point. He laid down across the back seat and just stared at the lights blurring on the foggy window. No idea where they were going but too wound up to give a damn about it. Nobody even talked until they were at Two-Bit’s house and he was telling Dallas he’d freeze if he slept in the car.

 

Inside, the three of them sat at Two-Bit’s kitchen table. Dallas smoking out the window and Johnny attempting to play a game of cards with Two-Bit so he wouldn’t drive himself crazy and start pulling out his own hair.

 

It was going to be a really long week.

 

*****

 

There weren’t many things Pony remembered about her dramatic stay at the city hospital. Darry told her she was out for a lot of it, whether it be because she was in surgery or high on pain meds. Though maybe it was really just the trauma.

 

The first time she remembered waking up, she was already back home, and it was noon. Vague memories of what happened and how she got to be bed-bound for a yet unknown amount of time floated around in her head, transparent and hazy. It felt like she was waking up from a dream. Her curtains were closed and someone had lugged a desk fan into her room and had it plugged in where her ancient lava lamp used to be.

 

Pony moved around, her limbs felt like syrup. A blue cast covered the lower part of her arm and hand. When did they put that on? There was an assortment of pill containers on her nightstand and a glass of water that was half full, which she had absolutely no memory of drinking. She was uncomfortable for a reason she couldn’t figure out, and for some reason it was extremely upsetting.

 

“Soda? Darry?” she called as loud as she could. The way her voice sounded surprised her. Was she sick?

 

In about five seconds, Darry was standing in front of her. He leaned down and looked in her eyes, searching for something. “Hey, Pony, are you there?”

 

“I don’t feel very good.” Pony ignored his weird question.

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Your meds are probably wearing off,” Darry said, sitting on the side of her bed. He laid a hand on her head. “But I think your fever is gone, concussion must be under wraps too, if you remember this by tomorrow.”

 

“Darry, I think I remember everything,” Pony replied, lifting her head off of the pillow only for it to fall right back down again. It hurt real bad. “Someone got hurt.”

 

“Yeah, you did,” Darry told her softly.

 

“No,” Pony shook her head. “It was...” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. The sound of punches landing and blood in her mouth, her screaming until almost no sound came out and him begging her to stop.

 

“You’re tired,” Darry said and uncapped one of the medicine bottles. “Take it and go back to sleep, don’t worry about anything right now.”

 

Evidently she listened to him, because when her eyes opened again it was night time. Pony wondered what exactly the doctors were giving her that knocked her out like that, then reconsidered her criticism when she tried to sit up and went light-headed from how sore everything was. Like she got tumbled for a day in an industrial washing machine. Pony downed the rest of her water and wondered when the last time she bathed was.

 

Her alarm clock said it was eight-forty, just after sunset. There was light visible under the door and she heard the far away sounds of people talking. Pony wondered if she would be able to walk. She was shaky from what she presumed was a lack of food, and it set her mind on a single track that told her if she ate something, everything would make sense again.

 

Ponyboy made it to the sixth step down before her knees gave out, and she heaved like she was climbing a vertical rock face instead of fifteen stairs. She couldn’t go any further up or down so she just sat. Trying to regain her composure. The last person she saw was Darry, so she called for him.

 

Three people ran out of the kitchen. Darry, Soda, and Steve. Ponyboy really did not want Steve to see her like that, and she hid her face behind her arms, one of which was holding onto the banisters for dear life because she was afraid of falling down.

 

“Pony,” Soda said quietly, he was next to her now, gently trying to pry her off the railing, “how’d you get down here, honey? You should’ve just called from your room.”

 

“I’m hungry,” Pony replied. Pain and discomfort evident in her strained voice. “Don’t put me to sleep again,” she begged. Soda looked to Darry, who was also on the stairs now. He reached down and they both helped her stand up, which made her yell in pain.

 

“I know, kiddo, I know,” Darry said a few times. He picked her up around the waist and carried her down the rest of the stairs like she was six, which still hurt too much to be embarrassed about.

 

Soda had gone upstairs to get some of her meds and he put them on the dinner table. Scooting his chair over to be next to her while Darry reheated the spaghetti on the stovetop.

 

“You’ve got some tuff looking shiners.” Soda’s voice cracked, he tucked Pony’s hair behind her ear and coaxed a cold glass of water into her hands.

 

“Do I look real bad?” Pony asked, her good hand shook when she brought the cup to her mouth.

 

“Well, you’ve got two black eyes and a busted lip,” Soda told her. Pony lifted a hand to her face and poked at it. How many times had Bob hit her there? What about everywhere else?

 

“What happened to Bob?” she asked, and both her brothers froze in place.

 

“Who’s Bob?” Soda put a nervous but encouraging hand on her shoulder, looking at her with a weird expression. He kept glancing behind her, probably at Darry.

 

“Bob Sheldon,” Pony said. “He was in real bad shape. Did he go to the hospital?” she asked.

 

“Baby what are you talking about?” Darry was sitting next to her now, there was a fierceness in his eyes that was barely contained. Pony was still a little confused why they were asking. Shouldn’t they know?

 

“The Soc ,” she said slowly, so that they would understand her.

 

“You know the people who who did this to you?” Darry sounded really serious now.

 

“Yeah. Him and his friends, I know them all. But it was just Bob and me fighting. I think I might’ve bit his finger off.” Pony rubbed her mouth with a sour look on her face.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to forget the feeling of her face slamming into the concrete after he punched her. Of her broken hand smashing into his eye socket as he begged her to stop. It rushed back in a big jumble, and it was almost like she was back in that park.

 

“He was going to kill me. I thought I died.” Pony said, weak and traumatized. She didn’t want to eat anymore but everything still hurt. All she really could do was cry, which she hated because it would just make her even more tired and miserable—but she couldn’t help it. Nothing made her feel better. Not even Soda holding her like she was going to disappear if he didn’t, and definitely not Darry’s tumultuous silence.

 

They moved her to the couch somehow and Soda laid down with her while Darry was on the phone with someone. After a while her hysterical sobs had petered out into stoney apathy. Like all the middle emotions had been sucked out of her somehow. Pony watched the T.V screen blankly. She didn’t even see what was on. Soda was running his hands through her hair as she rested her head on his lap, and he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was thinking about how they finally knew who tried to kill his sister.

 

“Pony, the feds are probably going to want to talk to you,” Darry said when he got off the phone. He was sitting on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, so she wouldn’t have to sit up. “Or at least try to.”

 

“They gonna send me to a convent?” Pony asked satirically, though it lacked any humor.

 

“I don’t know,” Darry replied. “l mean, I know they ain’t gonna send you to a convent , but I was talking about the police, not the social workers.”

 

“You called the cops?”

 

“Yeah, kiddo, I called the damn cops. Three days ago. Everyone’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

 

The cops arrived the next morning. Pony spoke with them for a shorter amount of time than she was anticipating. They took her account down and then they left, and then she didn’t hear hide nor hair of the law until Christmas Eve.

 

*****

 

Pony was recovering ever so slowly, but had regained her ability to walk, and so she sat on the porch with her new markers. The cast on her right hand impeded her ability to properly draw anything, so she was trying to build some semblance of skill with her left before school started up again.

 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone walk past her house, then turn around and come back. They stood outside her gate and seemed to just watch silently. Pony chanced to look up and saw Randy Anderson staring at her with a bad look on his face. She startled at the sight of him and froze. Ignoring the obvious, he really should not have been there. Not just at her house but on the whole east side. Especially alone, without a car.

 

Randy seemed to sense that she was afraid and put his hands up, like that meant he was no longer dangerous. “Hey, um, I’m just here to—”

 

“I’ll call the police,” Pony said firmly. She stood up and moved towards the door so he knew she meant it.

 

“No no! I swear I’m not here to do anything,” he pleaded. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

 

Pony stayed completely silent as a response.

 

“Uh, well I just wanted to let you know that Bob is in jail,” Randy said. He looked at his shoes. “And um, yeah. He’s in jail.”

 

“How’d that happen?” Pony asked. She could guess but she wanted to hear the whole story.

 

“Well, he didn’t go to the hospital after… After you know, and he was in really bad shape. Like real bad, so his mom made him go. I guess they found out what was going on somehow and the cops came and talked to him and he confessed to everything.”

 

“He really did?”

 

Randy nodded. “Yeah, he did. There was no point in lying about it. They came and arrested me after and I’d be in the pen too if I didn’t agree to testify against him. Something to do with you only being sixteen and him being eighteen, I guess he’s being charged as an adult. Attempted murder is what I’m hearing.”

 

“ Murder !?” Pony moved to the front steps now, genuine shock painting her face.

 

“I said I was pretty sure he was going to kill you and I think he probably said something similar. They got us dead to rights, Ponyboy, no jury in their right mind would let him get away with it. Especially because you,” Randy blanched and started vigorously picking at his fingernails, averting his eyes, “because you survived. No lawyer was gonna be able to help him. There’s too many witnesses anyways, they all talked, everyone knows what he—we tried to do.”

 

Pony tried to process everything she’d just heard, but it was still floating around her head. Bob going on trial. Going to jail—maybe even prison. Not that he didn’t deserve it. “How bad was the damage?”

 

“I know one of his legs is broken. So is his face, I think they had to reconstruct his nose.”

 

From what Pony could glean, they’d done an equal number on one another. The broken hand was self inflicted but pretty much everything else was a combination of how hard she was fighting and Bob not really holding back on her. He hit her like she was another guy, and she might have held up better if she had been. The doctors were monitoring her for brain damage and she had to have surgery on her spleen. Not to mention the fever from being left in the winter rain.

 

Needless to say, she didn’t feel that bad about Bob suffering, she really only asked to make sure he was doing as bad as she was.

 

“What happened to his fingers?”

 

Randy made a face and said, “Wasn’t pretty I’ll tell you that.”

 

“I think you should go, Randy,” Pony said. She’d heard enough, and she didn’t want to look at him anymore. He’d probably get whipped if any of the guys saw him hanging around there talking to her, anyways.

 

He left just in time because a few minutes later Johnny appeared with a box of red and green frosted sugar cookies, which were for the pre-Christmas thing they’d be having that night. Usually it was just so Soda could bring Sandy over, but Steve was the only one with a girlfriend anymore, so it’d just been the seven of them plus her for a while.

 

“Dude those are the good ones,” Pony said, doing her best not to open the box and take one right then. “You just get your paycheck or something?”

 

“Or something,” Johnny shrugged.

 

“Hey, you have to sign my cast still,” Pony pointed out, taking a sharpie from the stuff drawer and handing it to him.

 

Only Darry and Soda had signed it so far, and she’d taken to doodling on it so it wouldn’t be a complete eyesore. Apparently Soda was the one who chose blue because she was still out of it when they asked. If she’d been awake she’d have gone with purple. Johnny wrote his name on the inner side of her wrist, like even his name was hiding from the spotlight. He had the same weird look on his face as her brothers when he did it. Pony wondered if it was less fun to sign a cast when the reason it was there wasn’t a stupid accident.

 

“Wanna know who was just here?” Pony asked against her better judgment. Johnny nodded. “Randy Anderson.”

 

“Here? Like at the house?” he asked.

 

“Outside. He told me Bob is in jail.”

 

“ Jail ,” Johnny said. Like he didn’t really believe it. “That changes some things.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Well, there might not be a rumble anymore.”

 

Pony stilled. “Really?”

 

She’d been hearing rumors of a rumble for the past few days. Never directly to her face, but people were calling Soda, and Steve would talk about it when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Rumbles were how the Greasers and Socs took justice into their own hands when the law either wasn’t an option or wouldn’t be able to settle the score the way they thought it ought to be settled. But with Bob on crutches and in a jail cell, Pony supposed there wasn’t much to rumble over.

 

“Guess someone’ll have to get the word out to the hood,” Johnny said.

 

“They’ll find out eventually. Today it’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t want to think about Socs,” Pony replied. She restlessly picked at a leftover scab on the side of her head, desperately wanting to go do something and get her mind off Randy and rumbles and plaster casts, but Darry was rightfully keeping her in the house for another few days. At least until she was done taking her medicine.

 

Johnny suggested they put on a movie to pass the time until everyone would start showing up, and half an hour later Pony felt almost exactly like she did before winter break had started. Sitting on the couch marathoning Star Wars. Living the absolute dream. Her deja vu only increased when Steve was the first one to walk through the door, and again, he left his jacket on the floor instead of on the rack.

 

Except this time, Steve paused for a second and turned back to pick up his jacket, then hooked it nicely on the wall. He didn’t say anything about it, or look at Pony, he just did it, and for some reason it was like the nicest thing ever. Coming from Steve at least. After perusing the kitchen again he stood awkwardly in the doorway with a cookie in his hand, like he wasn’t sure whether or not he was allowed in.

 

“You alright?” Johnny asked him. Pony realized he was staring at her.

 

“Yeah,” Steve replied absently. “Um, feeling better, Ponyboy?”

 

Pony wasn’t sure Steve had ever called her by her actual full name once in their lives. “I’m feeling alright. You can come in, you know.”

 

Steve stepped self consciously over the threshold and pointed at the spot on the couch next to her. “Can I sit?”

 

Ponyboy just moved a throw pillow out of his way and nodded. He sat down and nibbled at his cookie for a second, clearly thinking of saying something else. Whatever it was never made its way out. Pony didn’t expect it to, anyways. For all the time he spent around Soda, none of her brother’s outward empathy ever rubbed off on Steve. He was like Darry right after their parents kicked it. There were a lot of emotions in him but he compulsively held them in. She wished there was a way to communicate that she knew he was trying to say sorry without actually saying it.

 

They were on Empire Strikes Back when Two-Bit and Soda showed up, and a few minutes later Evie was dropped off by her mother. All of them brought some kind of food or drink, it was the first time since they were basically little kids that any one of them had enough disposable income for treats. Someone’s mixtape found its way into the player, and the night was in full swing. All they had to do was wait for Darry.

 

“Pony?” Soda was talking to her, though she wasn’t sure for how long. Ever since the fight it had been so much easier for her to just drift off and think about other things. Mostly because if she was alert all the time all she would think about was Bob. It was kind of hard not to when that’s what every conversation eventually devolved into. Pony wondered how long it would be like that.

 

“Yeah, what, what’d you say?” she answered him quickly. Probably betraying the fact that she wasn’t listening to him.

 

“I was asking if you’re feeling okay without your medicine,” Soda said. They were sitting in the kitchen near the window, everyone was still around but they were in their own little bubble.

 

“That medicine makes me sleepy,” Pony replied.

 

“I’d rather you were sleepy than in pain, honey.”

 

Pony frowned at him. He sounded more like Darry every day, she hated it. If there was one person who shouldn’t have to grow up so fast, it was Soda. “I don’t want it,” she said firmly. She was supposed to be getting better.

 

“Okay,” Soda nodded, patting her on the back gently. He must have sensed that she needed a second to be left alone after that and went to talk with Steve and Evie. Pony downed the last of her root beer and wandered off to the backyard.

 

She stepped outside and got the fright of her life when she caught sight of Dallas sitting on a chair right next to the door. He was smoking a cigarette in the dark, like the lunatic he was.

 

“You about scared the life out of me, Dallas, why are you out here and not inside?” Ponyboy asked, winded from even the exertion of being surprised. She wondered if her lungs were ever going to go back to normal. It’d be a disaster if she had to quit track.

 

Dallas puffed out a cloud of smoke and observed her. Pony wasn’t sure they’d even seen one another since that night, she had no memory of him in the hospital or at the house. Granted, she didn’t remember being in the hospital at all .

 

“Just needed a smoke,” Dallas replied, but it was strained. He crushed the weed two seconds later, so she knew he was lying. “I’m outta here in a few, anyways.”

 

Pony nodded. She felt like they should be talking about something, but they were on such different levels in life. Like two cars on opposite sides of the highway. Only able to connect when they briefly passed by glimpsing into one another’s windows. She didn’t want Dallas to leave. Or else he might not ever show up again. “You missed the sunset,” she said, turning her head to the west where a film of purple dusk sat low in the sky.

 

“Didn’t know that was something you missed,” Dallas said sarcastically.

 

“It is. Have you ever actually watched one?”

 

He was quiet for a second, which could only mean he was actually thinking about it. Ponyboy wondered why he was even entertaining her. Maybe because they were alone.

 

“Guess I’ll have to catch it tomorrow,” he replied.

 

“I think I have a better idea.”

 

Ten minutes later, Dallas was asking her what the hell they were doing as they drove around the middle class neighborhood she’d visited at the beginning of the week.

 

“The lights,” Pony said, pointing out the window. “Nobody really puts lights up in our neighborhood.”

 

“Can’t afford the damn bill,” Dallas said. “This is what you wanted to look at? Christmas lights?”

 

“What’s so bad about that?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

They passed a street that must have been collaborating on their decorations, because from driveway to driveway down the whole street there were big glowing arches. Some had fake icicles hanging off of them that flashed on and off, creating a crazy looking effect against the dark sky. Dallas pulled over to the side of the road and they both got out of the car to look at it.

 

“I guess people are really serious about Christmas,” he said, craning his neck up.

 

“How do they make them stay up like that?” Pony asked nobody in particular.

 

“Man, if they tried to do this in our neighborhood it’d be set on fire within a day.”

 

“Yeah, by you .” It didn’t get a laugh, but Ponyboy felt like Dallas at least wanted to, so she considered it a win. “Whose car is this?”

 

“Buck’s,” Dallas replied.

 

“Help me up there, would ya?”

 

Dallas hopped easily up onto the roof of Buck’s ancient looking truck and gave Pony several hands as she semi-embarrassingly tried to clamber up after him without undoing all the progress she’d made in the last six days. Dallas didn’t make fun of her, either. She remembered Johnny talking about him being gallant, what Two-Bit said about Sylvia, and how not very long ago she thought she didn’t know Dallas Winston at all.

 

Sometimes everything would just change, and Pony didn’t know if it was her that did the changing or if it was the world. It’d drive a person crazy to try and figure it out so usually she just tried to take things as they came. Whether it be herself or the world. But that didn’t stop her from noticing it.

 

“That Soc guy’s in the slammer,” Dallas said, likely prompted by her shallow breathing and obvious pain. “Tim said one of his guys said that he was pissing his pants.”

 

“Yeah I heard,” Pony replied. “Randy Anderson told me.”

 

“How?”

 

“He came to the house.”

 

“Man alive, Ponygirl, you’re going to put people in an early grave at this point.” Dallas rubbed his temples. “What if he tried something, huh?”

 

“Well that would have really sucked, I guess.” Pony shrugged, accepting, not at all terrified; and Dallas stared at her with a mix of offense and conflict. There was also a hint of fear, which Pony was still trying to make sense of.

 

She didn’t know that six days ago, she’d been delirious and almost dead in a hospital bed, unable  to handle the pain she was experiencing. She didn’t know that Soda was the one glued to her bedside when she floated back to the waking world, still toeing the line between being irreversibly broken and a shot at recovery.

 

Soda had leaned down, desperate to hear real words come out of her rather than nightmarish nonsense or pained moans. Her voice was weak, but she was talking.

 

“Are you awake, honey?” he’d asked, trying to coax some life into her, prove to himself that she was going to come back to him.

 

“Soda,” she said, fighting to keep her eyes open, “I’m worried…”

 

“Worried about what? You’re safe here, I’m right here,” he said.

 

“No, I’m worried about Dallas,” Pony replied.

 

“Dally’s fine.” Soda was confused, ready to write the line off as cognitive confusion, but Pony shook her head, which probably hurt pretty bad.

 

“He’s not fine. You gotta talk to him, tell him not to hurt himself.”

 

Soda asked her what she meant, but his sister was gone again, and so was whatever she’d been trying to tell him. When Darry came back he excused himself, unable to shake the odd encounter from his mind. He hadn’t been thinking about Dally. Ponyboy was the only person who existed in his mind until she mentioned the other Greaser herself.

 

He left the hospital and followed the vague notion that Two-Bit was the one to pick Dallas up, so that was probably where he would be. Kelly let him in and showed him to where the boys had ended up, which was apparently the basement because she left him at the top of the stairs and ran away.

 

Johnny was asleep on the pull out couch when he got down there, and Soda was happy to see it, because it meant the kid wasn’t taking anything too hard. At least for the moment. Two-Bit and Dally were still awake though, the former was playing Final Fantasy three with the sound completely off while Dally appeared to be watching him listlessly. It was a strange sight. Soda wasn’t accustomed to the friendship between the two of them when they were just on their own. Were they so peaceful all the time? Or only when something so horrible happens that there’s nothing else to do?

 

The perceived peace was swiftly shattered when Dallas caught sight of Soda standing by the stairs. He looked like he was about to fall asleep but he got up quickly, alerting Two-Bit as he did it.

 

“Sodapop, hey,” Two-Bit said. His eyes were wide, surprised, maybe. Soda’s lack of immediate response seemed to shift the mood of the room from questioning to outright concern.

 

“Spit it out, Soda,” Dally said bluntly. Despite his obvious exhaustion it was clear how wound up he was, running on fumes, already prepared to hear the worst news.

 

“She’s okay,” Soda said, and Two-Bit visibly relaxed, but Dallas didn’t. “She woke up for about thirty seconds before I got here. Talked nonsense, but at least she talked.”

 

Two-Bit strode over and gave Soda a painful hug, reassuring him that everything would turn out okay. “Strong kid, she’ll be alright,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” Soda sniffed, then addressed Dallas. “Can you come and talk for a sec?” he asked, and Dally regarded him with apprehension, but ultimately nodded. They went back upstairs and into the kitchen, which was thankfully void of any mothers or sisters.

 

“Darry send you?” Dallas asked.

 

“No, Pony did.” Soda knew that would get a rise out of Dally, who looked at him from under his long bangs with that expression of icy calculation he liked to use to mask confusion. “She was saying things I didn’t get, but I couldn’t shake them.”

 

“And?” Dallas crossed his arms, shifty.

 

“Are you alright, Dally?” Soda ripped the bandaid off.

 

“ Me ? You’re asking about me ?” Dally asked incredulously. “Your sister is the one in the hospital.”

 

“Yeah, she is the one in the hospital, and she was telling me you’re not okay,” Soda said. “She’s out of her head and she’s still worried about you. What do I tell her, Dally? Are you okay?”

 

Dallas looked like he wanted to run, or maybe like he wanted to throw up. Soda wasn’t enjoying the discussion any more than he was, but there was a feeling in his gut that told him he couldn’t let Dally leave without seeing this through. However long it took to get something out of the guy, even if it was a fist to the face.

 

“Listen, man, we’ve both had a long night, you know. You should really go back. I don’t know why you came out looking for me when…” Dally started muttering to himself and Soda got him a glass of water, which he refused as if it were motor oil. “Just get out of my face, man,” he said, but his voice cracked, and they both knew the jig was up.

 

Soda had never seen Dallas cry before. It felt wrong to be witnessing it for some reason. All Soda could do was crouch on the tiles next to him and watch. Dally didn’t seem to know what to do either, Soda wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never cried in his life. Not like he was now. With his hands pressed against his eyes like he was trying to force the tears back in, like this was the first time he was burning inwards rather than scorching the earth around him.

 

“I was wrong,” Dally would say, shaking his head, “I was wrong.”

 

“It’s alright now, Dal,” Soda said. Usually he would offer some kind of physical comfort but he kept his hands to himself this time, still holding the water in case Dally came to his senses. “Everything is passed, nothing else we can do but move on with it.”

 

“I think I’m smart, Soda. Think I’m smart for tryin’a keep kids outta trouble, like I could take all of it so they don’t have to. Johnny, Sylvia, Ponyboy, I tried. But it happens anyways,” Dallas said. “Why does it always have to happen anyways? Why do I keep trying?”

 

Soda really didn’t know how to unpack all of that. A part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to let Dally have his moment and then let them both forget it ever happened—because he doubted the hood would be thrilled about having a breakdown in front of anyone, let alone Soda of all people; but it wasn’t in Soda’a nature to abandon someone having a rough time. He’d see it through until he was pretty sure they’d be okay. Even if it was Dallas, who was scaring him.

 

“You try because you can’t give up,” Soda replied. “It’s hard, I know how it feels. Don’t blame yourself for this, Dally, she’s alive because of you. So are Johnny and Sylvia. I know it’s not the way you wanted it, but you didn’t fail. I don’t think there’s anything Darry and I could do in a lifetime to thank you.”

 

“I don’t want you to thank me,” Dally replied. He wasn’t crying anymore, he was just tired and empty. He wordlessly took the water from Soda and sipped it sourly.

 

“Stay here for the night, please? You’ll think clearer in the morning, long as you actually sleep. I’ll knock you out myself if I have to,” Soda ordered. On a regular day he wouldn’t hound Dallas for a million dollars, but the fight was gone from his friend’s eyes and Soda knew he’d listen.

 

The knock to the head must have given Pony some sort of clairvoyant premonition ability, because she’d been dead right about Dallas being in a bad way. Soda had no idea how she could know. None of the guys would have ever clocked his behavior as cause for concern rather than his usual manner of being evasive and aloof. Pony could always see things everyone else couldn’t, the way things really were instead of an illusion. Soda didn’t know what Dally would have done that night, but they never had to find out.

 

Pony didn’t know about any of that. She didn’t know that the way she stepped around the concept of her own death like it was just laundry on the floor made Dally’s chest burn the way it did when Soda was talking him down from going crazy just a few nights ago. It reminded him too much of Johnny, how he’d been changed forever after his run-in with the Socs when he was her age. She wasn’t scared to get hurt anymore, not scared to think about dying, because the worst thing imaginable had already happened to her.

 

Dally had wanted Johnny and Sylvia to stay out of trouble and keep their innocence, then they paid the price for it because he couldn’t protect them, and they were inexperienced where it really counted. He thought then that it would have been better if they wised up. Got tough like him and learned to look out for themselves; but now he knew that wasn’t the answer, either.

 

Because Pony did wise up, she did get tough and mean, and she still almost died for it. She’d fought to the death with a guy twice her size and all she’d gotten for surviving was the dark mark of mortality that Dallas knew too well. He didn’t want her to be like him. He didn’t want her to see the world as dangerous before it was anything else. That was his burden to carry, not hers.

 

“Don’t say stuff like that, Ponygirl,” he said, sort of quiet, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it at all.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Pony replied. “I forgot you’re the one who found me. I guess it’s not very funny.”

 

“No, it ain’t. I thought you were dead, you scared the devil out of me.” Ponyboy knew he meant it, because he looked scared. Things really had changed.

 

Dallas helped her down from the roof of the car again and before he let her go, he pulled her into a hug. Pony felt surprised at the gesture more than anything, especially because it was towards her, but a part of her was aware that this was for his comfort. Maybe it was the first time he really thought about how fleeting life could be, how fast everything can be taken away or altered irreversibly. Even the things you thought would never change at all.

 

They got back to the house and Dallas told her to get the front door “in two minutes,” which she could only roll her eyes at, but agreed and hurried back inside. Nobody seemed to notice she’d left the property, which she was thankful for.

 

As anticipated, the front door opened and Dally was there, but it seemed Darry had caught him in the act on his way home from work. Everyone cheered at their arrival and Pony gave Dallas a knowing look as Two-Bit dragged him off to the kitchen. Darry sat down on the couch to take his work boots off and motioned for her to come over to him.

 

“How was your day? You take your meds?” he asked.

 

“I’m alright, Darry,” Pony replied. She didn’t want to be petulant, but her desire to not be a kicked dog anymore was too strong.

 

“Pony, that medicine is keeping you from getting sick. Take it before you go to bed tonight if you’re so worried about it making you drowsy,” Darry ordered. She felt guilty that their first conversation on Christmas Eve had to be about how she was being a bitch.

 

“I’ll do that, I’m sorry,” she agreed. Darry stood up and gave her a side-hug, aware of her still healing ribs. He was still so tall it was hard to remember he was only twenty-three sometimes.

 

“Don’t feel bad, little buddy.” That might have been the first time Darry told her not to feel bad about something, ever. It was also the first time he ever called her “little buddy,” that was Soda’s nickname. “Hey, there’s something outside you might wanna see.”

 

Intrigued and a bit confused, Pony gave her brother a look, but he just nodded towards the door and joined the gathering in the kitchen. Pony slipped outside and took a look around, then stopped in slight shock.

 

Curly Shepard was standing near the front gate. He looked like he was contemplating whether or not he should actually be there, but when he saw her he gave a hesitant wave. Pony smiled at approached him, seeing that he was holding something in front of him.

 

“I thought you might want this back,” he said, holding it up for her to see. It was her purple jacket.

 

“My jacket!” she exclaimed, taking it gratefully.

 

“I took it to the dry cleaners,” Curly told her. “So, it’s all good now.”

 

“That was really nice of you,” Pony replied earnestly. She put the coat on and wrapped it around herself, feeling a little safer and definitely warmer with it on.

 

“It was nothing.” He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. Pony wished it wasn’t dark out so she could see him blush. “You look good—or, I mean you look better, like, better than…”

 

“Gosh, Curly, do you talk to all girls like that?” she teased him.

 

“No, no,” he shook his head. “God, I don’t know what’s the matter with me, I came here to say sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For telling you to go to that stupid party and not showing up. I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me right now, I’d be madder than hell at me right now. I’m pretty sure your brother wants me dead and I can’t blame him, I even want me dead.”

 

“Jesus, Curly, I’m not mad at you,” Pony replied.

 

“I just don’t know how you aren’t,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“It’s not your fault. Yeah you kind of stood me up, that’s shitty, but you’re acting like Bob went after me because of that. He didn’t, he was gonna find me somehow and it just happened to be that night. You were there when it counted and it’s all over now.”

 

“You don’t hate me?” Curly asked, stepping closer so that he could not-so-smoothly pull Pony closer to him. Now she was the one going red.

 

“Man, I wish I could hate you. I feel like I’m missing out on the club,” Pony replied, still trying to be smart, but she put her hands on his waist and looped her thumbs under the belt-loops of his jeans. Now she could see the way he blushed from his cheeks all the way up to his forehead, and she couldn’t help but smile at him deviously.

 

“Oh god, maybe you should listen to Soda and stay away from me. If any of my guys saw me right now I’d loose all my street cred.” Curly joked but Pony knew he liked this. She giggled and laid her forehead on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was quiet as he returned her embrace, one arm across her shoulders and the other hand on the back of her head. It was protective, she could tell he was thinking about something.

 

In all the mess of the past week, Pony had kind of forgotten that Curly probably thought she died in his arms not too long ago. She didn’t remember being found at all, and her brothers were reluctant to talk to her about it while she was still sick and bedridden, but eventually she demanded answers. Pony got the feeling that they didn’t want to tell her Curly was there for whatever reason—well, she knew the reason. They hated his guts.

 

They probably didn’t know how to reconcile that with the fact that he saved her life, but she found out about it when Two-Bit let it slip that Soda tried to beat the tar out of Curly when he was at their house.

 

“Hey, I didn’t have to pay that Eddie J an early visit, it’s okay,” Pony pulled away slightly so that she could look up at him. “I’m okay.”

 

“God, I don’t wanna ever see something like that again. You should’ve seen me, Pony, Darry had to hold me down while the ambulance was coming. Everyone thought I was gonna go out and kill that kid, maybe I was. I think that was the first time me and Dally ever agreed on anything in our lives.”

 

“Well, Bob’s under the jail right now. I’m sure you already know that,” Pony told him.

 

“Some happy ending,” Curly scoffed. He wasn’t satisfied, and he probably wasn’t used to that. The Shepard gang always got even somehow, and with the likelihood of a rumble being low, everyone just had to accept that this was the end of it.

 

“Yeah, Curly, it is,” Pony replied. “I know everyone wants revenge, but I just want to move on. Bob got what he deserved and then some. Can’t you just be okay with that?”

 

“I don’t know, might take some time,” he said. “I think I’m gonna start goin’ to school again. Just in case.”

 

“Oh, how good for me. Trade one nuisance for another.”

 

“At least those fuckers’ll think twice about picking on you.”

 

Pony was getting cold, she’d been outside for too long that day and Darry would have her head if she undid all the progress she’d made getting her fever in check. “You’re not going inside, are you?”

 

“Nah, I mean I would, but those guys in there scare the crap out of me. No offense,” Curly replied, and Pony nodded sympathetically.

 

“Well, don’t leave me hanging,” she said. Curly looked perplexed for a second before the lightbulb went off in his head, and he got a look on his face that had Pony feeling like a giddy school girl. She definitely knew he was handsome before, but now she was feeling entirely different things that would probably have her locked in a tower if her brothers ever got wind of it.

 

Curly kissed her sweetly, which she appreciated. It was more than likely that about six people were all crammed up against the kitchen window watching their entire exchange, and Pony did not need any of them to bear witness to any make out sessions she was participating in. At any point in her life, preferably.

 

She felt him smile into the kiss, and she broke it first, giving him a complimentary peck on the cheek. He didn’t seem to want to let go of her but he did, not before fixing her jacket more snugly around her shoulders. “Goodnight, Ponytail,” Curly said, his eyes sparkled, and she watched him fold back into the night with a warmth in her chest that felt like everything was going to be alright for now.

 

When she made it back inside, Two-Bit was standing conspicuously in the foyer with an unhidden grin on his face. Pony was already embarrassed, and he hurried her into the kitchen where five pairs of eyes stared at her expectantly. She just hid her face in her hands, which caused Two-Bit to burst out laughing. He was somehow drunk already.

 

“I didn’t know you could put the moves on like that, horse girl,” Steve said, obviously amused at her humiliation.

 

“Well where’d ya think the kid learned it from? Not like she lives with the biggest flirt in the city,” Two-Bit joked, elbowing Soda playfully in the ribs, who looked about ready to bust someone’s head in.

 

“Christmas came early for one of us,” Dallas said behind his own drink. He gave Pony a supportive wink, and she was thankful for it.

 

“I’m gonna find that kid,” Soda said, but his irritation came off as more endearing than threatening. Darry gave him a de-escalating pat on the back and shook his head.

 

“Maybe some other day, little buddy,” he said, and with Darry’s apparent acceptance everyone seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief, taking it as permission to resume their festivities.

 

Later, when mostly everyone was somewhere in the living room either deep in a game of poker or playing Street Fighter, Pony and Darry got a moment to themselves. On account of their shared disinterest in gambling and video games.

 

“You knew he was out there,” Pony said to her brother.

 

“Yeah, saw him lurking around like he was too nervous to come to the door,” Darry said.

 

“And you didn’t run him off?” she asked, genuinely curious as to her brother’s reasoning.

 

Darry shook his head. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t,” he said. “Pony, I don’t know what keeps drawing you and him together, but you always see things us guys just can’t. And he was so upset after that run in with the Socs, I knew he wasn’t just pretending to care about you.”

 

“You mean you really don’t hate him?” Pony asked hopefully. Darry was the last person she’d ever expect to give his approval on anything boy-related. Right under Soda.

 

“Well, I certainly don’t like him, but I don’t think I would like any boy you decide to bring home. Not until he proves he’s worth even half of what you are.”

 

Pony wanted to shrink under Darry’s expression. She wasn’t used to it, and it made her feel guilty for being overwhelmed. It was easy for her to forget that Darry loved her, that he actually thought about her as a sister instead of just someone he was tasked with keeping alive. Pony didn’t know how to thank him for what he said, for everything he’d done in the background of her life for so long. They didn’t have the words between them yet and it killed her.

 

“Thanks, Darry,” she said, and hoped he knew she meant thanks for everything . Darry pulled her against his side and she leaned her head on him, watching the room.

 

Some winter break , Pony thought. She thought about all the people who’d come in and out of her life in the past week. How some stuck around and others blew in and out like a twister. There was some kind of lesson to keep from all of it, though it didn’t really matter to her at that moment.

 

Pony wasn’t thinking about how she looked, how she acted, or what everyone thought of her. Simply breathing and witnessing the beauty of mundanity, of what she had, of what was good now . And it wasn’t a fancy house or nice makeup, or a party where everyone was a stranger. It was her living room with a coke stain on the ceiling. It was a bunch of guys who had nothing but one another and the promise of a damn cold night outside the walls; but right now it was warm, it was Christmas Eve, and she was happy to be alive.

Notes:

The title of this fic is taken from Avril Lavigne’s song “I’m With You,” which unintentionally became the bible for this story. If you watch the music video it’ll be even more obvious. Originally this fic was titled and modeled after the song “My Junk” from Spring Awakening but it got away from me, thank god. There’s a few little remnants of it in the very beginning but I scrapped it pretty quickly.

Anyways I think I’ve yapped enough. Uh Merry Christmas in July I guess. Comments and kudos appreciated smile.jpeg.