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In the face of danger, emotions could change everything. Being a greaser on the Northside may seem like the short end of the stick— save for a tight-knit group of friends to call a gang. Greasers weren't known for being in touch with their feelings but they had one thing they respected: loyalty. It was a survival method.
Virginia Curtis watched her brothers talk quietly with Two-Bit Mathews and Dallas Winston. Tim was off with Steve, probably getting the sky blue Thunderbird ready for the drag race. Spokes Road wasn't typically busy at that time of day. Big, wide, dusty, and surrounded by thick woodlands... it was the perfect stage for a showdown of two cars and the greasers or Socs to drive them.
Sodapop clapped Two-Bit on the arm and tilted his chin up. He didn't look as infuriated as before but Virginia knew he was pumped up with adrenaline all the same. Sodapop confidently popped the collar of his checked flannel until the hem grazed the coarse dark hairs on the back of his neck, shooting the Socs on the other side of the intersection a dirty glare. His face had softened when he reached his sister who was sitting idly on the ground, collecting a few wildflowers into a small bouquet.
Sodapop crouched down at her side and took her aching hand in his, turning it over to examine it. "How's your hand, Bluebell?"
"It hurts a lot," Virginia admitted quietly and gazed down at her bright red knuckles. The color was so angry and passionate, standing out firmly against pale porcelain. It was the mark of her fury and a just reminder of her temper.
Her brother carefully touched the back of her hand in reassurance and slowly stood up. Virginia caught the small pop from one of his joints— a ligament he pulled a while ago. "Maybe you oughta sit out. We'll come back for you."
Sarah Jane Wyatt and Cherry Valance had left the moment the race was announced and Virginia, for once, could sympathize with their worries. If the police had any business around and they were to get caught, she dreaded what would happen.
She wouldn't leave with them though, despite Cherry's pleas. She couldn't abandon them like that, especially after what she did to Greg.
Virginia smiled when she saw Dallas strutting over with a relaxed smile on his face. He seemed just as fired up as the rest of them but something told her he wanted to dig his fists into their soft, privileged flesh instead of racing them down a road.
"Nice slug, kid," Dallas remarked. He grinned and mussed up her hair playfully, his eyes dropping to her tender cradling of her bruised knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
"A bit," Virginia tried to play off coolly. She caught her brother's incredulous side-eye as he walked off and felt a cheeky grin play at her lips.
"Let me see." He tried to take her hand and she pulled it away, biting back a groan.
"Leave it alone, Dally," she argued softly and turned over her hand to reveal her bare, pale palm.
Dallas clucked his tongue and forcibly grabbed her hand, mumbling, "C'mon, I wanna see how bad it is."
