July 30, 1965 - 9:46 PM
Ponyboy’s POV
“Slow down, Ponyboy!” Johnny calls from a few strides behind me.
I stomp up the front steps of Dally’s house and fling the front door open. Johnny catches up to me and places his hands on his knees, out of breath from running. I notice his bloody jacket, but decide not to ask any questions.
I grab his arm and lead him upstairs to Dally’s room. It looks like it always has, yet all I can picture is Dally kissing Johnny on the messy bed.
“What's up, guys? Isn’t it kind of late for you to be here?” Dally stands up from his spot on the carpet and puts out his cigarette.
I charge at Dally and shove him against the wall behind him. Johnny stands still in the doorway, watching the scene in horror.
“What the hell, man?” Dally roars, dusting off his shoulders and kicking me in the shin.
I look up at the tough guy in front of me with no fear. I know that no one acts like this towards Dallas Winston without getting punished, but that doesn’t matter to me at the moment.
“I know what you did to him,” I growl, inching closer to Dally’s fuming face.
“What are you talking about?” Dally kicks me again.
I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him down to my eye level. “Johnny doesn’t love you back, bastard! You have no right to kiss him!”
Dally’s eyes soften and his gaze crawls over to Johnny’s small figure. “What’s Ponyboy talking about, baby?”
Johnny’s mouth hangs open in fright as he looks from Dally to me.
Dally turns his attention back to me. “See, Ponyboy, there’s nothing wrong.”
I shake my head and form my hands into tight fists. “You don’t understand, do you?”
“What don’t I understand?” he challenges.
“Johnny and I are dating! We’ve been dating for a while now. And you know what you did? You kissed my boyfriend!”
Dally’s face smothers in shock and he once again looks over at Johnny. “No, that can’t be true. Johnny, you said that you loved me back.”
“Not like that,” Johnny mutters as a tear slips onto his cheek.
Dally’s face drops in an expression that I’ve never seen him publicly wear before. It looks something like desolation.
“Didn’t you realize that he never gave you permission to kiss him? You just started doing it and you scared him so badly that he was afraid to speak up. That’s not what love is, Dally. That’s not how it works.”
I throw a punch at Dally’s nose, but he doesn’t even try to dodge it or fight back. Instead, he lets out what sounds like a soft cry or a gasp. Johnny bolts out of the room and I hurry after him.
I think we broke Dallas Winston.
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