Stay - Dallas Winston

8

“Hey, blondie.” A deep voice boomed throughout the church. 

I was awakened, but not startled. 

I had a headache, and I was too hungry to care. 

I laid there for a few minutes, my body ached.

I need a drink, bad.  

The boys start asking a million questions a minute. 

“Hold on a minute, one at a time.” The deep voice said again, “I got a letter for you, Pony.”

“From who?” Ponyboy asked. 

“The president of the United States of America…. It's from your brother, Soda.” The voice said. 

It sounded like Dallas, but it couldn't be. 

Not this early. 

“Why are you guys making her sleep on the ground, man?” I turned my head to see that it was in fact, Dallas Winston. 

The boys must have slept on the picnic tables instead of the ground.  

I jumped to my feet, and marched over to him. 

“You,” I snarled at him, as I grabbed him by the back of his jacket, “you’re coming with me.” 

I dragged him outside by the tree that I sat by on the first day that I got here. 

“What?” he asked, throwing his hands up into the air. 

“You, told him from the beginning!” I yelled at him.  

His face turned beet red. 

Dallas stood up tall, and licked his lips before he spoke. 

“Yeah, well…. What did you expect? We were 14.  You really thought that 14 year old me wasn't gonna brag to someone?   I only told him, man.  Johnny is your best friend, be glad that I only told him.” Dallas scratched his head.  

My face was hot with anger, he didn't even try to deny it. 

“That's not the point.  We had a deal, I didn't tell anyone!” I scuffed. 

“Well, they were gonna find out anyway! Look, I'm sorry.” Dallas tried to reason. 

  “Well, It's too late now. It's over, I'm done.” I said, and began walking away.  

“Come on, man.  Don't do this!” he said, following me back into the church. 

Ponyboy and Johnny were looking at us.

I went and sat next to Ponyboy. 

“Who's hungry? I'm starving?” Dallas asked, putting his leg up on a picnic table bench. 

“You're starving? Try bologna for three days.” Johnny rubbed his eyes.

Dallas let out a booming laugh. 

“You gotta cancer stick, Johnny?” Dallas asked him. 

Johnny handed him a cigarette, and he lit it up quickly.  

“Are you ok?” Ponyboy asked me. 

“Yes.” I groaned.   

“Your hands and lips are blue.  You're shaking like a wet dog.” Ponyboy said as, he folded up the note and stuck it in his pocket.  

Dallas took his jean jacket off, and draped it over my shoulders.  

I was cold, but I didn't want to say anything.