losing sleep ➵ dallas winston

three

July 8, 1968

Working the morning to afternoon shift in the diner was the absolute worst in the summer. The AC worked half of the time, and when it did, it didn't work well. I usually got lucky with my shifts, typically getting the night shifts. Which I liked a whole lot better than the morning ones. But Mary called out sick, and I had to take over her shift. Unfortunately, the diner I was at was severely understaffed. But I took it. I took the extra shifts and made decent pay.

I was so spaced out thinking about the broken AC and the staff that got stretched thin, that I didn't even realize the gang of boys that had walked in the door. They sat at a booth in the corner and made themselves at home. They didn't appear to be any of the regulars, but then again, I never worked the morning shift.

I walked over to their table, pen in hand, ready to take their order. It was only when I saw a familiar face that I froze. Dally. I shot a big grin at him, waiting for him to recognize me.

He stared blankly, then realized who I was. "Brookie," he said, pushing the other boys aside to reach me. "You look a lot different with your hair up, love," he said, leaning towards me and examining my hair.

I took the strand he had out of his hands and looked past him. Three boys sat, staring at me, dumbfounded. "Hi," I said, making a small wave at them.

Only one of them waved back, the other two just stared. "Hi," the one that waved said, "I'm Sodapop Curtis."

"Brooklyn Mae," I said, smiling warmly.

One of the other boys shook his head, "Johnny."

I nodded, turning to the third one. "And you are?"

His face turned red, "Sorry," he said, "Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy, Sodapop, and Johnny," I said, pointing them out. "I dig the names. Now, what can I get you?" I waved Dally to go sit down, and he did. I took each of their orders and placed it in for Mike, the cook, to get started.

"Who's that?" He said, pointing at the table.

"Dallas, Ponyboy, Johnny, and Sodapop," I replied, pointing to each of them as I said their names.

He nodded, getting to work on their orders.

More people were coming in while Mike worked, and I darted around the joint taking orders and placing them in. After making sure each table had waters, I realized the boy's orders were ready.

I brought them over to the table, "Pancakes for Sodapop and Ponyboy," I said, placing the plates down in front of the two, "Hashbrowns for Johnny," repeating my pattern. "And," I exhaled with a smile, "French toast for Dally, what a softie," I said, giving him his plate and messing with his hair.

"Fuck you," he smiled.

I left their table, letting them all dig into their food.

I continued to buzz around the diner, waiting tables and checking on guests. Eventually, I caught a break, sitting down at the bar. I felt someone come up behind me, twirling my hair in between their fingers. I turned around, smiling, to see Dally.

"Find me after your shift, mkay?"
I nodded, unraveling my hair from his fingers and waving him off. I turned around on my stool and saw Mike with a big smile on his face. He raised an eyebrow at me and motioned toward Dallas as he left. "It's nothing," I said, shaking my head at him.

--

I lifted my head up from the bar. I'd already been here for two hours. Where is he?

A few more minutes passed, and I was getting ready to leave the bar. I took the last sip of my drink and grabbed my jacket from the back of the barstool I was sitting on.

"Brooke," I turned around and saw Buck walking toward me, "Phone, for you."

I walked to the phone behind the bar and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey Brookie," a familiar voice greeted my ears.

"Dally," I smiled into the phone, glad he didn't completely forget about me.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to our date tonight," His voice sounded weak, but I could practically hear the smirk.

"Date?" I raised an eyebrow, knowing that he could see my face in his mind.

He laughed and went silent for a few seconds. "I'm really sorry Brookie, I really am."

"Dallas?" I said, wondering why he sounded so somber. I could feel the colour drain from my face as I heard the phone hit the ground and a gunshot on the other end.

Then, the line went dead.