the outsiders ~ vertigo

Three

Such different stories, yet they all slept under the same moon, and shared similar tears.

Lou laid upon the concrete ledge, the wavy blue reflections danced and swam around her. While puffing desperately on a cigarette, she stared up at the night sky.

Maybe Vincent is under the same stars, somewhere. What time is it in Vietnam? Lou thought, flicking her ash into the bubbling fountain. She wasn't sure how long she had been laying there, with the street lights now on, she figured it had to be a couple hours.

Does he think about me as much as I do of him? Her unanswered thoughts dissipated into the night along with her cigarette smoke. While Vincent had more important things on his mind, Lou never stopped thinking about him since the day he left, specifically if she'd ever see him again.

The park was peaceful as can be, with the soft chirping of crickets coming and going rhythmically, the moonlight poured down upon her, leaving little to no visibility for lurkers.

Lou sighed, squinting towards the direction of the Curtis house, she turned Ponyboy's offer down to come inside, but now her rejection has turned into regret.
Tucking her arm under her head, her fingertips traced the water ripples, eyelids falling shut. Despite the lack of booze in her system, Lou could sleep tonight. With the flowing water filling the atmosphere, it nearly replicated the smooth jazz which hummed throughout the night in her shared Philly bedroom.

Below her sleeping body rested stains, the brown faded droplets painted a picture of violence. No one was exactly sure which boy it belonged to— besides Johnny.

A couple blocks over occupied the restless boy, tossing and turning under his newspapers, poor Johnny stared at the smoldering pit in desperation— usually he could get the rampant thoughts to stop, but not tonight.

Some socs shook him up before nightfall, one's he had not seen in greaser territory before, which was never a good sign, especially for him.

Ever since that night at the fountain, he stuck out like a sore thumb— the socs might as well have put a target on the boy's back. Aggression is something Johnny desperately wanted to avoid, he promised himself he would, but had to eventually learn to accept for survival.
Over the past two unfortunate years, a growth spurt was the only thing which worked in the boy's favor. Despite still having the smallest build out of his gang, the boy proudly stood nearly as tall as Dallas.

Rolling onto his back, Johnny stared at the stars in frustration. Every once in a while he'd spot a larger one, and make a wish— anywhere but here.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he couldn't help but dream of a warm bed with freshly cleaned sheets, and the curtains drawn, allowing a dark, safe and sound slumber. It's sometimes all the boy would think about as the wind whipped past him. He felt as if Ponyboy took Darry for granted, always arguing and giving him a hard time.  Johnny unadmitably would do anything to have a home like Ponyboy, but he wouldn't dare say any of these things aloud.

Before the boy knew it, the dawning sun peaked out from the horizon to greet him, his sleep was broken but nonetheless it was much needed rest.

He released a bitter groan, rubbing the sleep out of his unadjusted eyes. Yesterday's clothes clung to him in a cold sweat— the last thing he needed was to be coming down with something.

Like every other morning, it became a habit for Johnny to give the lot a once over for socs and the fuzz, but mostly socs. Upon giving his stiff legs a stretch, he straightened out his damp wrinkly clothes—he swears they become more uncomfortable every passing day. 

Johnny reluctantly stepped on the smoldering ash the pit before leaving, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to start the day.
The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked down the back alley, hands jammed into his pockets. Judging by the daylight and warmth, Johnny knew he was late for school. The gang somehow convinced him to go back, so he could graduate at the same time as Ponyboy— if he keeps it together.

Johnny regretted letting the gang pressure him into such a thing— but at least Two-Bit will finally lay off the teasing about how he graduated before the boy. Miraculously.

Hell, the gang thought pigs would fly before Two-Bit Mathews would ever graduate high school.

Johnny doesn't think it's too bad being an eighteen year old in some junior classes, but it's especially embarrassing when he doesn't understand what's going on. Sticking out to peers more so is something he would rather not do. 

He found relief in having some classes with Ponyboy, which guaranteed him an easy pass and a good grade. Out of school, Johnny didn't see Ponyboy as often as he used to, with Darry having a tighter leash on him after that night, which Ponyboy has unknowingly fell complacent to.

Johnny sighed as he kicked a stray stone down the sidewalk, he dreaded going; the scowls his teachers often sent him, or the rare glances of pity and disappointment he would get before a stern talking too.

Even the teachers knew school is not the place for kids like him, they're for kids with a good head on their shoulders, like Ponyboy.

Dally didn't go to school and he's fine. Johnny thought intently, but eventually settled on going tomorrow.

Johnny's stomach abruptly grumbled, it felt like nails tearing his torso as it ached. He urgently patted his pockets for any kind of spare change, a dime, nickel— the poor boy did not even have a penny.

The Curtis' crossed Johnny's mind; he knew Darry tried to keep something extra in the fridge for him, if Steve didn't get to it first. But just the thought of mooching off them made his stomach ache worse.

Dallas would sometimes give him money, until that one incident a soc rolled him for the ten bucks he gave him that month. Johnny was so ashamed that the gang didn't even tease me about it, he didn't have the guts to break the news to Ol'Dally, but he found out anyhow, like he always does.

Ever since then, he's given Johnny less at a time with the promise to stop by more, but it more so felt like a punishment to the boy for being so weak. 

Johnny did not dare to question where Dally got the money from— he didn't dare too. The money was always enticing him to drop out and seek a job, but who would hire a guy like Johnny Cade?

As he walked, his stomach got worse, and his mind raced more to appease his hunger— Maybe he can head home, if he gets lucky his old man will be passed out. But the chances of Mrs. Cade picking up food stamps was little to none.

The DX wasn't too far, sometimes Sodapop would shove chips and a Pepsi Johnny's way. He knew it was coming out of Soda's pay, but he felt too pitiful to turn down such an offer.

Johnny remembered Two-Bit mentioning this one Food Fair that had an unsupervised rear door you could slip out of, if you're lucky. But all he needed was the fuzz on his ass.

Catching the boy by surprise was the sound of a roaring car, his eyes shot up as his hand laid over the imprint of his blade. The mean noise chugged along, revealing to be an old milk truck. Johnny cursed under his breath, and slouched down in defeat.

Those socs from last night caused Johnny's mind to spiral, he has not seen Bob since a night out with the gang at the drive-in, in which his disfigured face just stared daggers towards Johnny in an attempt to start some trouble. He couldn't help but wonder if those guys were Bob's outfit.

His legs continued to drag him on as he got close to his home— Once a home, now just an unkempt house inhabited by his parents, once happy, now they can't even look at each other without some kind of screaming.

Johnny stared at the window from the curb, the house seemed unusually calm, patiently waiting for a small inconvenience to set it off. It would be best if he just avoided it and went to the Curtis'. He could really use a shower, the neighbors can probably smell him a mile away.

With the Curtis' nearly in sight, his stomach pain was nearly manageable, the chain link gate opened with a sharp creak which made him cringe. Right as his foot hit the porch step a teal mustang ripped down the street, for once he felt lucky as he swiftly shut the Curtis' door behind him.

—"Hey JohnnyCade, where've you been?"