Style | Dallas Winston

Chapter Thirteen

"Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours" -I Wanna Be Yours, Arctic Monkeys

Christmas was quickly approaching, and the weather was getting too cold for Maeve's liking. Autumn was her favorite season of the year, when it was finally cool enough to wear sweaters, and she could sit outside all day and enjoy the cool breeze. The once green leaves would turn crisp and fiery and it smelled of cold and new beginnings.

December was now in full swing. The leaves had fallen from the trees, and it was no longer comfortably cool as she liked it. Five minutes into her walk to the Curtis house and she was already questioning how she was going to manage to stay outside all day.

She finally reached her destination and walked inside, grateful for the warmth. Like usual, the house was bustling with activity, everyone trying to get ready as fast as possible. Maeve took a seat next to Johnny on the couch and made conversation while the others scrambled around the house. Darry was clearly searching for something he'd lost, while the younger Curtis brothers were in their rooms.

"Soda! You seen my keys?" Darry asked, walking to the back of the house. Two-bit took this as an opportunity to go through the fridge, snatching beers and stuffing them in his jacket.

"So when does Dally go on?" Maeve asked Johnny.

"Probably not for a while," he said, "they start with the saddle broncs first. Sodapop wants to go see 'em though, relive his glory days and all that."

Today was the annual Christmas rodeo at the Slash J. All day there will be horse races, barrel racing, bull riding and more. It was a big deal for our town. There would be vendors selling everything from food to Christmas trees. Greasers, socs, everyone in town would be there, which you could assume would cause some problems. Usually a couple fights break out every year, but overall, it is a fun, festive event.

One of Dally's more legal side hustles is being a jockey on the weekends, or— if he managed to not piss off Buck that week— he could get a spot bull riding. How he managed to talk Buck into getting him a spot today was a mystery to Maeve, but that now meant that the gang was very eager to go see him get bucked off a bull.

"Ponyboy, why the hell aren't you wearing a jacket?" Darry fussed at his younger brother.

"I'm fine, I don't need one," he replied stubbornly.

"You know what, fine freeze to death," he said, pulling on his own coat.

Sodapop was practically jumping with anticipation, trying to usher everyone out of the house and into the truck. He had always loved horses and wanted one of his own, but his family wasn't exactly the type who could afford them. He even rode saddle bronc for a while, before he tore a ligament and his dad made him quit.

Once everyone was piled into Darry's work truck—Two-bit and Sodapop in the tail bed—they finally made their way to the Slash J.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

When they arrived at the Slash J, it was just as Maeve remembered it to be. There were stands packed with people surrounding the huge corral where the barrel racing had already started. People were cheering, and the announcer was yelling over the loudspeaker. Over to the side was the barn where the horses were held before it was time to perform. Little kids dragged their parents over, wanting to pet and feed them. In a separate gated area was where the bulls were held, currently being wrangled by a few poor boys who were having a hard time. Behind the stands there were tents full of vendors selling anything and everything, as well as booths selling overpriced food.