Begin [Ponyboy Curtis]

Friday

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: Addiction

Playlist: Little Dark Age - MGMT

"Uh, hey Dorthy," Ponyboy sat on my bed, surprised by me throwing open the door.

I pressed my hand against my chest, letting out a relieved breath, "you scared the hell out of me, how did you even get in here?"

"Your window was unlocked... how did you know someone was in here?"

I looked over to the window. The curtains were closed with a small bump pushing into the bedroom, showing someone else was here too. I realized I must have left the window unlocked after that night with Randy and the girls. I couldn't believe it was only weeks ago, it felt like forever.

"I could feel the breeze from the window under the door."

"Oh, Johnny's over there smoking. He didn't want your dad to smell it and come upstairs."

I glared at him, suddenly remembering how much of a jerk he had been all day, "My dad isn't here, turn around so I can get dressed."

He moved himself to the other side of my bed, looking at the window, "I just came to apologize. I know how annoying it is for people to tell you that you can't fight... to treat you like a baby."

I grunted in response and got dressed in some babydoll shorts and an old t-shirt, "alright I'm dressed. Johnny, you can come in. No one's gonna smell the smoke."

Johnny flopped into my bedroom with the least grace I'd ever seen. If I wasn't so mad at Ponyboy I would've laughed. I grabbed an empty pot that once had a small plant in it, for us to use as an ashtray. I took one of Ponyboy's cigarettes instead of getting the pack Dally gave me.

"When'd you start smoking?"

"Couple hours ago," I shrugged and let him light my cigarette for me, "some of the socs are driving around agitating greasers. They must be getting antsy for the rumble."

The both of them seemed shocked. It felt as though I changed at the flick of a switch. I was once in the middle and avoiding their clashes, now I couldn't be more on Ponyboy's side. Yes, there are bad greasers, and there are good socs, but I can't overlook the majority. The Socs already have the school, the police, and society on their side. There's nothing to contain their behavior.

"Dally says you'll be a good friend in a fight," Johnny spoke up, "we're glad to have you."

I smiled at them softly, letting the nicotine hide my anxiousness about the situation. We finished our cancer sticks and they snuck back out the window.

"Call me when you guys get home," I called down to them, "I'll come lookin' for y'all if I don't hear from you in an hour."

I picked out my clothes for the next day and tossed them onto my desk. When Ponyboy called me he whispered a quick, "we're home, see you at school tomorrow," and I fell asleep not long after.

My alarm startled me awake, I think I might have been having a nightmare but I couldn't remember any of it. I washed my face groggily and brushed out my hair. My head throbbed with a new sort of pain, it wasn't my usual early morning headache. I brushed my teeth half asleep against the sink then sulked back to my bedroom to get dressed. A pleated skirt, cami top, and a cardigan. The weather here often hung around "bring a sweater in the morning, regret it in the afternoon". It didn't bother me too much because it forced me to dress in layers, that way I'd never get too hot or too cold in class.

Once downstairs I softened my steps seeing dad on the couch. Finally, it was Friday which meant two things. 1. The rumble was just hours away and 2. Dad didn't have work tonight, and there's a 50/50 chance he'll be waiting for me to come home all beat up. He'd probably be pissed but hopefully, he'll understand. He was a teenager once too.

I skipped my morning coffee, jittery enough from thinking about how tonight would go. Instead, I smoked a cigarette on the way to school. Halfway through the stick, I realized I didn't have a headache at all, I just had nicotine withdrawal. "That happened fast," I muttered at no one in particular.

Closer to the building it becomes too busy for me to skate so I carry my board under my arm. I met up with Ponyboy by one of the back doors. He, Steve, and Two-bit were all standing in a circle finishing up their cigarettes before class.

"Wassup, guys?" I flicked my bud into the nearby trashcan and softly smacked Two-bit's chest, "fancy seein' you here."

"I always go to school right before a rumble. Something entertaining always happens," he shrugged with a goofy smirk.

"Sounds legit," I nodded, "where does the Rumble take place?"

All of us looked around, to be sure no adults or snitches would hear our conversation.

"The Rumble is at the empty lot, they don't like to fight on their side of town," Steve crossed his arms.

Two-bit nodded, "we walk down altogether, as a group."

"We meet at my house first," Ponyboy added, "An' we usually dress up. Not Sunday clothes, but we like to look presentable."

I wouldn't have understood the dressing up if it weren't for the socs. I'm sure they'll show up in clothes that even I couldn't afford to get ruined. Just another example of how careless they can be.

"Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just money for booze," Steve chuckled.

They all seemed lighthearted, not bothered with thoughts about what might happen, so I took that as my cue to stop worrying so much.

"Come on," Ponyboy nudged me, "I'll walk you to your locker?"

"Yeah, class starts soon. I'll see you guys at lunch," I smiled at the other boys and left with Pony. We squeezed through the busy hallway and to my locker.

"I don't mean to nag you, but are you sure you want to be there tonight?"

"Ponyboy," I cocked an eyebrow at him, "if you don't drop it you're gonna be the first ass I kick today."

He nodded lazily, "just try your best not to get too hurt, alright?"

I pushed back my anger, knowing it was better to save it for tonight. Instead, I just appreciated that he was trying to look out for me, "I will, Pone."

I latched my locker shut and turned to leave but he grabbed my arm, bringing me back, "all of us will be there if you get into any trouble."

"I know," I pulled my arm back and leaned against the locker, "I can handle myself, Ponyboy. Don't worry about it so much."

He looked back and forth between my eyes and finally smiled, "I know. I'm sorry."

"Come on," I gently slapped his arm, "we gotta get to class."

Just like Two-bit said, the day of the Rumble was different. People would size each other up between classes, they'd pass around crude comments, and more than once would have to remind each other "no action before the rumble".

Our entire high school was preparing for war.