Trouble |The Outsiders|

28. One Hell Of A Year

|Septermber 1966|

It wasn't very often two Rumbles happened in Tulsa, one after the other. What was even more uncommon was the fact that it wasn't greasers against the socs. It was greaser against greaser, specifically against the Tiber Street Tigers. It wasn't a typical Rumble for another reason, each greaser was armed to the teeth. Rather that be with blades or rings, it didn't seem to matter.

The River Kings were the first to join the Shepard gang, then the Curtis gang followed suit. It happened early in the morning before the sun had even fully risen and the grass was still soaked from the storm hours before. On the morning of March twenty-seventh, thirty-five boys found their way to the train tracks, not knowing one of them would die within the hour.

Who fired the shot still remains a mystery. Or maybe, the people just know better than to point it out. None of those boys would ever forget the way Bobby Alex's corpse hit the ground, crimson flowers blossoming on his shirt as a small silver bullet gleamed in the sun. They would never forget how just seconds earlier, Bobby held a gun of his own against the temple of another boy.

Danny would always remember how casually Tim slid the gun into his pocket before pulling him to his feet. "Abigail told me to keep you outta trouble."

Those in Bobby's gang were the first to abandon him. As soon as he collapsed into the mud, they turned and ran into the alleys and paths surrounding the tracks. Next to leave where the River Kings. The Curtis and Shepard gangs left at the same time, partly in shock, partly breathing a little easier now he was gone.

Bobby Alex died alone. And even years after his death, Tim Shepard would never regret it.

The police in town treated Bobby's death the same as they did Pete Conners. They took one look at the gun lying inches from his hand and assumed suicide. No one really cared, he was just another hoodlum who would eventually be just another name on a slap of concrete in the graveyard.

It took six days for word to spread around town. One week later, Will Richarson decided it would be in his best interest if he too, disappeared. Two other greasers, Micheal Keen and Patrick Macrorie may have had something to do with it, but that isn't important. Three days after he left, Abigail received a letter. inside the white envelope was the deed to her house, all in her name rather than Will's.

In July of nineteen sixty-six, Eddy Mason was taken to the hospital via ambulance after experiencing liver failure. Despite not talking to the little girl he had raised in nearly four months, Abigail was the first person he called.

She didn't want to go, but Abigail couldn't help but picture her father lying in a hospital cot and dying alone. When she showed up, he apologized. It was long and tearful, and probably induced by the drugs pumping through his veins, but it was an apology. It was an apology she couldn't accept. At least, not yet.

Eddy died later that night just as she had feared; alone.

Neither of his children gave him a funeral. Why should they spend hundreds of dollars just to bury a casket when the hospital would put him in the ground for free?

As much as Abigail tried to move on, she would always wonder what would have happened if he accepted his apology.

Eddy left the house, along with everything else he owned, to Danny when he died. Being sixteen at the time, he did the responsible thing and sold all of it. Danny even managed to keep his record clean enough down at the station that they never questioned his mother's whereabouts. Lies dripped from his tongue like honey, especially when they were good lies. If anyone asked, Virginia was visiting her sister-in-law in Muskogee and he was staying with his sister.

If anyone asked him about his involvement with Tim Shepard and his gang, Abigail had quite a few alibis tucked up her sleeve.

Now, they were headed to the Curtis house for an end-of-summer party.

Music was blasting from the radio and people stood around talking and laughing happily. Darry stood behind the barbecue, flipping burger patties onto the buns before setting them on plates.

 Danny, Curly and Ponyboy hid in the corner, not so secretly taking sips of beer when they thought no one was looking. 

Sylvia, Dally, Two-Bit and Tim were taking shots and talking loudly while Kathy rolled her eyes. Evie and Steve stood near the middle of the yard.

 Steve had his hand around his girlfriend's waist, occasionally dropping his hand to her hips and then even lower.

Abigail stood next to Sodapop, taking short sips of her beer as they watched the last signs of summer blow away in the wind.

Many things had changed over the year. Some for the better, some for the worse. The scar Bobby carved into Abigail's cheek was long and jagged, much like her brother's. Now, it was impossible to deny the fact they were related. Beside her, Sodapop watched Abigail closely. He watched the way she closed her eyes when she took a breath, relishing in the last nice September day.

He watched her hair fall effortlessly over her shoulders, the way her lips moved when she hummed along with the radio. Then, he watched her vibrant blue eyes as her face split into a smile when she looked at him.

Carefully, he pulled the plastic cup from her hands and set it on the table next to them. Abigail raised her eyebrow at him skeptically when he held her hands in her own and pulled her into the center of the yard. They spun in slow circles, both humming along with the music echoing through the yard.

Abigail's hands locked around Sodapop's neck as his rested on her waist.

"Happy anniversary, by the way," Soda smiled.

"Oh?" Abigail replied. "What anniversary is this?"

He pulled her in closer and tipped his face down to hers. From this angle, Abigail was certain she could count every freckle that dotted his face.

"I met you today, September twentieth, thirteen years ago."

Abigail leaned in to close the gap, not caring about the people watching. Soda's hands immediately found their way to her hair and she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. Sodapop could feel her smiling against his lips as she pulled away, but never dropped her hands.

"Happy anniversary, loverboy."