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The hours before a rumble, in Virginia's opinion, were nothing short of a gas. Someone (usually Sodapop) would be bouncing off the walls in an adrenaline-fueled high while everyone else yipped and screamed, threw hair grease around, and drank their fill.
When Virginia stepped inside her house with all the shyness of a mouse, she could smell the scent of dinner. The boys were fond of chicken and vegetables so Darry and Roseanne must've gotten to work whipping up a feast fit for an army. Angela Shepard and Evie Green were there, flipping through some magazines. While the men went and killed themselves, their girls would usually stay cooped up in the house, worrying their heads off.
Women were benched when it came to rumbles. They were the woeful band of sisters, the balms when the boys would lick their wounds. It only made sense they only had a vague idea of how rumbles were conducted. Was it a straight shot like they were wild, frenzied dogs? Or maybe more structured and tense like a cavalry charge? Sometimes Virginia would rally the girls and they would come up with long, detailed scenarios of what went on, placing each of the boys as players in a game.
"Keep her upstairs," she heard Darry mutter to Roseanne in a no-nonsense voice, "do not let her out."
"Say it to me, why don't you?" Virginia found herself declaring fluidly when she entered the kitchen. She looked at her brother, who, like Ponyboy and Soda, had showered and gussied up for the big fight.
"Someday, when you're an old married woman with five kids, then you can tell me what to do," Darry said curtly. "Right now, it's the other way around. Now go to your room."
Though his response made her angry, it was familiar like old camaraderie. Seeing Roseanne give her a half-hearted smile and tilt towards the door made her sigh and turn around. Luckily, Two-Bit was in a jolly, carefree mood and beckoned her to his company.
"You know what's gonna happen tonight, right?" Virginia asked, chuckling in spite of her foreboding words. She perched on the edge of the table, watching as he leaned back and forth in the chair, tipping it far enough to fall. A clinking sound was muffled from inside his old, worn jacket.
"Yeah, it'll be a gas," he whooped, throwing his arms up triumphantly. Steve responded at once from the bathroom where he was applying hair grease, swearing blue and green about the Tigers.
Two-Bit always fought for kicks. Actually, he did everything for a laugh. That, Virginia had to respect though she found it strange that she was the one to learn maturity before him.
"Don't worry, Bluie," he assured, reaching one hand out to tug at her scarf. "We'll sort 'em out right."
Johnny made eye contact with her, sulking in Darry's green recliner. He was flipping through one of the books that collected dust on the cart but flagged her down nonetheless.
"Dally tell you anything about where he was gonna be tonight?" Virginia asked, wringing her fingers nervously. She perched on the armrest, ducking her head low enough so Darry wouldn't overhear.
