The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Other Side Of The Tracks

Curly and I walk side by side down the street, the latter kicking a stone like a small child. It's amusing to me how can act like a kid and then suddenly turn his emotions off in a snap. Like now, he's like a child, but I'm sure if any random person were to pass us now, Curly Shepard would act all tough, cool, and protective.

The only difference between me and a random person is that I've seen Curly when he was weak...

We walk, but we don't really walk in any specific direction. In fact, we aren't even going the way I live. Curly knows this, and so do I, but we don't care. In some unspoken agreement, we have decided to keep wandering in silence. It's nice that way— peaceful even, doing nothing but accepting each other's presence.

The night air is warm and it makes my skin feel sweaty. Hairs fallen from my bun stick to the back of my neck and tickle my skin, but taking my hair down would only make me hotter. Plus, I'm too lazy to reach up and pull out my hair tie despite how messy my bun has become from the long day of work.

Beside me, Curly still kicks the rock down the sidewalk, often glancing through the darkened windows of boutiques and small shops. I'm surprised he can stand to wear his leather jacket in this heat— though I suspect keeping it on plays into his whole "bad boy" routine.

At some point, we make it onto the tracks. I don't even know when we arrived there.

"Can I ask you something?" Curly blurts.

I look at him, my arms crossed over my chest. "Shoot."

"Where've you been all this time?"

I nearly groan at the question. I can even feel my head dipping. It seems to be the one thing everyone wants to know. First Whales and now Curly.

When I don't answer right away, he continues, "Did Tim do something to you? He vanished right after you did. He didn't hurt you or nothing, did he—?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "No, no. Nothing like that. I—... it's kind of the opposite actually." I admit, sighing. "It's kind of my fault he left."

"Oh..." Curly nods. "I see."

"Work mostly," I tell him honestly after an uncomfortable pause, going back to his earlier question in an attempt to switch topics. "Saving for college, you know?"

"College?" He gasps. "Wow, where are you going?"

"The University of California." I'm unable to hide my smile. It's the college I've dreamed of attending since my sophomore year, and it's my ticket out of Tulsa.

Curly beams at me. "Wow! College, that's great... Are you gonna miss it here?"

I laugh. "No. I want out of this town."

"Oh," He nods. "I'll miss you then."

I look at him. "Really?"

"No."

We both chuckle as I kick a flat pebble down the tracks. As I do, Curly takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights up. He sighs loudly once he takes a hit.

"You know," He starts. "This is where we first met."

I glance around, chuckling as I recognize the area. "Yeah, close to it."

Curly blows his smoke into the summer night. "Will you ever consider coming back, you think?" He asks. "To the gang?"

I squint at him. "I was never part of the gang, you know that," I argue. Sure I was around them, but not enough to be considered one of them. Besides, I was a Soc. I could never be a greaser.

"Sure you were." He shrugs. "You still are if you wanna be. Everyone misses you."

I smile a little, taking the cigarette from between Curly's fingers before he can bring it back to his mouth. "Doubtful," I say, taking a drag from the smoke.

Curly's brows raise. "Damn, rich girl! See, you're half greaser already."

Rolling my eyes, I fling away Curly's cigarettes. "No, I'm not. And I'm pretty sure Tim and Angela are the exception."

"Tim, no. Angela maybe..." He trails off. "Listen... I— I'm not supposed to tell you this but... he cares about you. A lot. More than you think..."

I shudder. I'm sure he does, but not in the way he's thinking. Tim only cares about me because I left him.

Sensing my discomfort, Curly hooks his arm with mine. "C'mon," He grins, "Whales'll die of shock."

I chuckle. Seeing the gang again is definitely not something I was planning on tonight, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the boys. Curly leads me further down the tracks, all the while a knot builds in the pit of my stomach.

We enter an alley, and at the far end is a glowing barrel fire with figures standing around it. Curly squeezes my arm, before letting me go. I mentally curse him out.

"Hey, guys!" He calls. "Look who I found!"

The familiar face of Damien turns to me first, a beer bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag held in his left hand. His ivy-colored eyes spark, but his appearance differs from what I remember. His left eye is faintly back, and a bandage sits over his nose and another is placed on his temple. His right cheek even still shows evidence of a bruise.

I cringe at the sight— my doing.

"No fuc-"

"Connie!" Whales cuts Damien off.

Everyone's eyes turn to me. I flash a sheepish smile.

One of the twins is the first to pat me on the back and Damien quickly pulls me into the circle around the fire before thrusting a wrapped beer bottle into my hand. However, before I can even protest, Whales is quick to take it away from me, while glaring at the boy with a look that says he shouldn't have done that.

Angela smirks from the other side of the barrel fire. "She doesn't drink, D." She says in a snobbish tone. "She's too much of a goody-two-shoes, little Soc."

"Angela, don't call her that—" Curly starts.

I don't know what comes over me, but as if to prove a point, I snatch the drink back from Whales and take a gulp. I try my hardest not to cough as it burns sliding down my throat. Everyone blinks at me and Angela's smirk slips.

"Uh, okay..." Damien trails. "Where've you been, Connie?" He nudges my arm.

I look at him because I can't bring myself to look at the disappointed look on Whales' face. "Working. I got a job." I answer. I'm not ashamed to say it— in fact, I'm proud of what I've accomplished in the last months.

Angela clicks her tongue. "Well look at that. Congratulations, sweetheart, you're all grown up now!"

Curly slaps her arm. "Angela! Stop it." He says, his tone hushed.

The girl glares at him. "Geez when'd you get so soft?" She quizzes, glaring across the fire at me. I take another sip of beer to avoid her glare. It stings even more than the alcohol in my throat.

Angela scoffs, her gaze turning back on her brother. "You do know who you're defending, right? The back-stabbing bitch who can't stick around long enough for the rest of us. Fuck them and leave, right little Soc?"

I choke, hoping she's not implying what I think she is.

Whales' jumps to my aid. "Knock it off, Angela. You're only embarrassing yourself."

She rolls her eyes, walking away from the circle of light created by the fire and into the shadows.

Once she's gone, Whales attempts to take the drink away from me again, but I refuse. He gets the message, but still whispers in my ear;

"You don't have to, you know."

I ignore him.