The Outsiders: Before My Time Part III

Fourth of July, 1965

July 4, 1965

Goldie's POV

Candy, Red, and I were in the living room, eyes glued to the black and white television screen with Dally and Steve. I was slowly starting to really enjoy the old programs that played and I was getting used to the low quality of the screen, while Candy couldn't care less and Red often wondered why the little screen was so fuzzy.

Steve and Dally were half paying attention, half talking to each other. Dally was also cleaning his switchblade with a rag. They usually didn't talk to Red or Candy unless my siblings explicitly forced themselves into the conversation. Red never really liked bringing attention to himself, but I was completely the opposite. Back in 2038, I was used to being noticed—whether it was on the football field or just walking down the hall. Out here in 1965, the only attention I seemed to be pulling was from the local girls. I wasn't complaining, but it definitely added a weird layer to this whole twisted reality. Candy, as usual, just rolled her eyes whenever a girl waved at me from the sidewalk.

For as long as I have known him, Steve has been fixing up bikes for the local kids for free. He fixes busted bike chains and patches up flat tires without asking for a dime. It's been his side hustle, even more now during the summer. I wonder if he continued this into his adulthood.

Dally took out a pack of cigarettes during a rather muddy shampoo commercial and passed the pack around the room like he was handing out pieces of gum.

"We don't smoke," Candy stated, trying to push it past Red. I don't think he even knew what a cigarette was before we got here.

"We don't smoke," Dally mocked, his New York accent dripping in sarcasm. "What's the matter, kid? Afraid you'll stunt your growth? Or are you just naturally born a prude?"

"Yeah!" Red chipped in, trying way too hard to fit in with the older guys, which instantly earned him a dual glare from me and Candy.

"I said, no," Candy said firmly.

"Come on." Dally nudged Red with a sharp elbow, speaking out of the side of his mouth around the cigarette dangling from his lips. "You ain't gonna take orders from a cupcake, are you? She ain't your mama."

Red turned to Candy and repeated, "you ain't my mama."

"Atta boy," Dally snickered, handing him a cigarette. "Y'know... I like you, short stack."

"Dally!" Candy said, her jaw dropped in shock. "He's a little kid. You're a sleezeball."

"Yeah. So?"

"He's just a boy!"

"I had my first pack when I was nine," Dally scoffed, bringing out his lighter. "One little weed ain't gonna kill him. Fred Flintstone smokes, y'know."

"Who's that?" Red asked. I didn't know who that was either.

"Who's... are you kiddin' me? What rock did you crawl out from under?" He shook his head in disgust. "You kids are hopeless."

"You really gonna start 'em on that now, Dal?" Steve asked, looking over at Dally. "Darry's gonna have your head on a stake if he smells smoke on the rug-rats."

"They gotta grow up sometime, Randle," Dally barked. Even as an adult, he was never really good with children. Not even with his own children. Dally brought the flickering flame to the end of the cigarette in Red's hand and lit it.

"What do I do now?" Red asked, watching the smoke filter into the air.

Dally lit his own and said while he demonstrated, "you bring it up to your lips, and take a puff."