Porcelain

Chapter 12

"Dally. We both know it. Johnny is a strong kid, but he isn't gonna make it. I wasn't fast enough. We failed."

Dallas clenched his jaw. He didn't want to say it, he didn't want to think it, but he knew Babydoll was right.

"We could have both saved him. And neither of us did."

Dally lit a cigarette. He could at least pretend that it was gonna help. "You never really told me why you were here," he said, changing the topic.

"I live here. Always have."

"What do you mean, 'always have?' Don't you know the story behind this house?"

"Tell me, I've stopped caring."

"There used to be a little girl who lived here, with her parents. She was too pure, too innocent, for this side of the tracks. Her mama dressed her like a Soc, too. But then her mom died. And then her dad was murdered. No one knew what happened, the little girl was hysterical. Some people say she went crazy and killed herself too. Some people say she moved away. But regardless, this house has nothing good going for it."

He turned to Babydoll, who had a wry smile on, his, or her? Face.

"Funny, isn't it? It was all so perfect back then. The house, so pretty. The family, all so pretty too. No one saw what happened behind the closed doors, though."

Dally didn't answer, all the pieces were starting to fall into place.

"He killed her. She was so good, and he killed her. She thought she could help him. I know she could have. She was so strong. But he didn't let her help him. Didn't want to admit he was the problem. And one day, he hit her. Right by the stairs. She fell right down. She was dead before she made it to the floor."

"How do you know this?" He whispered, knowing the answer.

"I called 911. They took her to the hospital. But she was dead. She was dead before they got there. Before they took her. Of course he pretended it wasn't his fault. He convinced himself it was mine. He convinced himself, that I secretly hated him. That I manipulated her. That I made her hate him. That I made him hate her." She shook her head. "He broke me, Dallas. He broke me, just like he broke her."

"How'd you get away with it, all this time? Your eyes. The name. That girl, she was so cute and perfect, that with her big blue eyes, people called her,"

"Babydoll," they said in unison.

"I don't know either. But people weren't looking for Estelle Parker. They were looking at a greaser boy."

"But back to the story. I have to finish this. I have to tell the whole story. To someone. I have to clear my name," she said, panic in her voice rising.

"Take your time. We've got all the time in the world right here," he said in a bittersweet tone.

"One time, he took his knife. His switchblade. And he slashed it. Right across the back of my neck. I wasn't even looking at him, I was cleaning up the plate he had broken, throwing at me a little while before. But that was all I could take," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I killed him. I killed him, Dally. I killed my father. I killed my own dad. With his own knife. In his bedroom, because that was where it was, after I kicked that knife from his hand, and threatened him back."

She started to sob. "And then I took his own knife. And I stabbed him in the chest."

Dally was bewildered. He had just learned the truth behind one of the biggest urban legends in the town. He just learned so many secrets, so many pieces of the puzzle had been put together, pieces that had been there the whole time.

"How'd you not get caught? How did no one ever find out?" He asked, in a whisper.

"I took the knife out of the wound. I hid it away, then changed into a nightgown and put my hair in rollers. And then I called the police. I never faked that I was hysterical. I was. I couldn't believe he was dead. It was just extra bad, because I couldn't believe I had done it. But that sweet girl? That sweet innocent little girl? No one would have ever thought she killed him. No one would have even considered it. I made it look like someone was after my mom's jewelry. Broke a window, too. It's still broken. It's still all there. Even the bloodstains. But I got away with it, because I'm not really that girl anymore. I still have the same name, I guess. Live in the same house. But I wear a different identity."

"Am I the only one who knows this?"

She shook her head. "Johnny does too. Just not the murder part. He's done a good job, keeping my secrets for me."

Dallas suddenly remembered another part of her story. "So wait. When you got thrown in the cooler, you were thrown in with the men, weren't you?"

She nodded. "Couldn't blow my own cover."

His face went white. "So when they found out that's why they-"

"Yeah," she said, wiping her eyes. "It's bad enough, when you're there as a boy. I don't regret making sure Johnny and Ponyboy didn't go in. And that's the one choice I've made so far that I don't regret. Well, besides becoming your friend."

"Who says we're friends?"

"I do. You need a friend. So do I. We both need someone to rely on. So I now declare us to be friends. Besides, I think we've both proven that neither of us are someone you want to have as an enemy."

"That's fair enough."

"Now, pretend you never heard any of that, I have a cover to keep."

"Fine."

"You say that, I feel like you're still gonna treat me differently. But there's my story, what's yours?"