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NOVEMBER, 1965
Virginia Curtis considered herself a girl unlucky of love. She wasn't quite sure where the thought had sprung up or how long it lurked in the vague corners of her mind. It was an intricate game of heart and chance— fueled by the economically dull courtships and marriage brokering she questioned in her romance novels.
The closest she ever came to it was when she was thirteen and Curly Shepard said he "dug her face." Ponyboy who was with her, punched him promptly, invoking a fight, and Tim Shepard had to split the two of them up. After that, Virginia was sure that she wasn't meant to spend the rest of her life with the boys in her neighborhood... even if at heart, she was always going to be a Northside greaser. She would never be ashamed of it as well.
For now, sweat dotted the back of Virginia's neck. The gentle curls in her hair miraculously stayed put, her locks pinned away from her face that was made sticky by delicate makeup applied by a steady hand and a sheen of perspiration from the unusual heat. Darry told her to look presentable. The fate of their family depended on it. So Virginia didn't argue with him.
She raised the paper tissue she clutched between her fingers to her warm skin. The meager electric fans buzzed, failing to quell the scorching temperature. Of course, it didn't help that the small courtroom was hotter than the sun, or her teal skirt was made of a scratchy material that made her itch at her legs. She wore a butter yellow cardigan over a white blouse, effortlessly matching the fine stripes in Darry's tie and Sodapop's mustard brown jacket. The three oldest Curtis children weren't the fanciest compared to the other spectators and witnesses. But Virginia wouldn't deny that they looked like they were going to pose for a Christmas family photo.
It was November, for Christ's sake! Where's the early snow?! Virginia thought to herself vainly. Nevertheless, there were larger things to worry about. Like Johnny Cade laying stiff as a board in a hospital bed. Or her little brother about to face the witness stand.
Virginia caught Ponyboy's gaze flickering to her and her red lips stretched out in a small, reassuring smile. There wasn't much else she could do or say to comfort him. Poor boy... he didn't deserve to be up there alone.
That led her eyes to land on the curly-haired Soc that was called up to testify— Randy Adderson, the best friend of Bob Sheldon. He wore a pristine coat of rich purple and black hues blended together. It must've cost a fortune. His matching red-and-blue tie stood out against the snowy whiteness of his shirt. His brow and upper lip were gleaming with sweat, eyes swimming with regret, shame, and fear as the lawyers hounded him with questions.
"It was Bob and I," Randy spoke softly. He messed with his fingers nervously. "Just lookin' for... you know, teach 'em a lesson."
Virginia felt her jaw clench at the 'you know'. You know? Like it was everyone's favorite pastime to terrorize two boys at the peak of night? At that moment, the devil in her tried to coax her to march up there and sock him in the face, though it would cause more trouble than it was worth. She noticed his parents sitting across from her. Their brows were knitted, the mother anxiously wringing her hands and her husband almost soaking his handkerchief with a new onset of sweat— from stress or the heat, who could know? Virginia wondered if Randy had lied to them about what really happened.
