Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

12. A Need To Know Basis

"HIT THE ROAD, JACK, AND DON'T YOU COME BACK." - Ray Charles (Hit The Road Jack)

***

I smelt my brother before I could see him. A flood of steam came from the bathroom as Darry finally pushed open the bathroom door, wrestling his belt through the loops of his jeans as he came towards the kitchen. It was a big day for him, or so I'd been told. Despite having no idea who she was, or what she looked like, Darry and Donna decided they had reached the kind of official-ness where he was required to meet her parents.

"Y'know, if you don't bring 'er around soon, I'm gonna guess Donna is your left hand," Dally scoffed from across the table. He looked at me with a sly grin while my brother moved around the kitchen anxiously. "Comments like that is the reason I haven't brought her 'round yet," Darry snapped back. "She's real nice, I don't wanna blow it." Dally's cracked lips split again, revealing sharp and crooked teeth as he prepared for the next dirty joke. I have to stretch a bit, but I manage to kick him in the shin before he can do it. Darry's been standing in front of the mirror for an hour now, preening himself worse than the girls in the school bathrooms. The last thing he needs is to stain the front of his shirt with some JD's blood. "Where are you guys goin' again?" I ask as he starts to wipe down the water splattered over the counters. Sodapop ain't book smart, but he knows that if he does the dishes bad enough, we'll never ask him to again. Joke's on him, though, he'd bend over backwards if Darry told him to. "The Dingo, Donna picked it. Wanted something nice and neutral."

The Dingo isn't nice or neutral. The booths are covered in red leather because bloodstains are too visible on the old blue ones, there's a fight going on every three minutes. That's because even if it's on greaser territory, Socs feel entitled to everything within Tulsa's limits. It's been open ever since I can remember, but the ratio to Socs and greasers have always been two to one. At least they're smart enough not to go alone. "-She hasn't heard a damn word you just said."

My lips twist into a scowl automatically as the chair drags on the floor. Darry's sigh is heavy, his hand on my shoulder carrying the same weight. Dallas doesn't bother apologizing for the hot water he threw me in -- doesn't even look back at me while he flings the door open and lights a cig. He and the rest of the guys are heading over to Brumley for the afternoon. Word got around Friday after school of some guy slashing another's tires. Said the fight was gonna be one on one and skin-on-skin, but we all knew that was a lie. Darry and I just reminded the boys to get outta dodge the second things got hairy. Steve and Sodapop weren't going though, they were heading to the gas station a few blocks down and washing cars for pocket change. The owners like them, I guess.

Darry smells like Daddy's aftershave. His hand is warm against my shoulder and the thin fabric of my t-shirt, just like Daddy's was the morning they went out hunting. I've tried not to think about him. Tried not thinking about Two-Bit, when he told us about his daddy taking off, tried not to think of the whispers that followed us like a bad smell in the halls. I tried not to think about how much Darry looked like him. I tried not to think of where he might be, if he ever planned on coming back, or if this was the opportunity he'd been waiting on for years.

"I gotta go if I wanna make it there on time," Darry explained hurriedly. My tongue pushes against the roof of my mouth as I turn to face my brother. His eyes are colder than Daddy's -- always have been -- but now they're alive with anxious, childlike, excitement. He worried about Momma, we all are, but he's worried about Donna and her parents, too. I can't blame him for that. "Go have fun, I can take care of Momma. Miz Mathews is supposed to come by soon, take her shopping." Dary plants his lips against my head quickly and light enough I barely register they're there. His chin is still stubbly and the smell of aftershave is strong enough to make my throat close up, but I smile at him anyway. Before Darry can pull away though, I drag my thumb across his jaw, over the scar he managed to give himself -- even after shaving for four years. "You're a mess," I chuckle, "go on now, Romeo, she's waiting!"