𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 , 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

twenty five.

MADELINE WINSTON

"steve thinks he has to protect soda after ... everything." pony speaks up, and i hear him perfectly clear, my mind easing up on the thoughts overcrowding my brain.

"after sandy," soda says. "after mom and dad. it's okay, pony, you can say it." his tone is soft as he talks to his younger brother despite the anger i see on his face and in his stiff shoulders from the way steve's been acting this morning.

"steve taught me how to fight." soda looks at me. "i knew how to hit, but he taught me where to focus it, where to strike so the other person would tire out before i was even getting started."

"but you two fight for fun." i say, the statement bordering a question. soda told me last night he likes when he and steve wrestle or accidentally get bloody from punching each other because it makes him feel something—something better than the anger and sadness that tries to burn him from the inside out day after day.

"yeah, 'til they're mad at each other." pony butts in. "then we've got two bastards roughhousing it out like they're gonna kill each other, and you'd be dumb to get in the middle of it." his explanation earns a warning glare from darry.

"look, don't worry about it." soda says, plopping a piece of cake onto a plate. "he's probably still drunk anyway and he'll feel bad about what he said to you in a couple hours. then you can make him beg and crawl on his knees to make it up to you." he smirks.

instead of taking the cake for himself, he hands it to me as his brothers occupy themselves in a conversation of their own, "let me know if it's good."

"why don't you have a slice too?"

he smiles softly at me with his hooded, tired eyes, "i'll eat something later."

i realize he won't be trying the cake. he didn't want it in the first place, too many memories of his parents when it comes to baking.

"is my brother really that bad that everyone's scared of me too just by association?" i change the subject, but my voice must be louder than i thought because i've grabbed pony's attention again.

"it's barely association, mad." he says. "you're related to him; blood."

"well, what'd he do?" i ask, getting a piece of spongy cake on my fork and bringing it to my mouth. the strawberry flavor bursts on my tongue as the three curtis' look at each other from different corners of the room, my question hanging in the air.

darry clears his throat, "i mean, besides getting thrown in jail multiple times and just being a ... well, your brother's kind of a dick, madeline, i'm sorry—"

i laugh at his honesty. it's true, i know it's true. dallas winston is crude, dangerous, and notorious for being a dickhead.

"he's just ... not the nicest to girls." soda explains. "he doesn't hit them or anything like that." he says quickly, seeing the concern flash on my face.

"he's just not good at showing his emotions," darry finishes for soda, and i can imagine that, knowing how things went between him and cherry valance. "most of the girl's fathers in this town despise him as he's made each of their daughters cry ... at least once. even the pastor's daughter." he cringes. "that was a bad day."

"he's also crashed into a few mailboxes, ran his back tires over them, took them right out of the ground ... on purpose." pony says quietly.

"in tim's car." soda clarifies. "that was after he did the same thing in buck's."

"he got taken down to the police station one time for public indecency," darry says in between taking a sip of water. "he was drunk. we went to pick him up and when the guard let him out of the holding cell, dally started to walk away, but then he turned around and punched the guard right in the face."