Too Bad to Die [The Outsiders fanfiction]

5. Johnnycake

Sorry I haven't updated for a few days! I decided to write this chapter from Johnny's perspective. A few more chapters, and then updates will be more frequent, since I already wrote the middle. 

On with the story~

Johnny Cade didn't expect much from life. He was born in Tulsa. He would live in Tulsa. He would die in Tulsa. He had nothing to look forward to and nothing to lose. His parents took satisfaction from his pain, and who was he to deny them that? They had nothing else- only a dead-end job for his father and stacks of empty bottles for his mother. They hadn't wanted him, and they'd never want him. It wasn't like he was of value, anyway.

Johnny had given up on worrying about himself years ago. That was when he'd started smoking and stopped trying to fight the fate he saw coming. He would never be smart or loved like Ponyboy. Some of Johnny's friends were going to get out of Tulsa someday but he would stay this way forever: stranded and empty and scared. Giving all he had away.

He didn't worry about himself, but other people worried him very much. Caring was the only way he managed to forget. He cared about Ponyboy getting teased by kids at school because of his name. He cared about Steve fighting with his father and always being angry. He cared about Darry working his ass off to get a scholarship to a good college. Johnny loved all of them, loved them more than he could ever love himself. And in return, they loved him back; affection was a foreign concept, but he learned its meaning.

Johnny had the talent of seeing the good in anyone, no matter how bad or tough or shallow they seemed. He saw no beauty in his own life, but he found it in everything else. He didn't steal, or break laws, or disrespect girls. Hurting people was something Johnny would never do. He'd been hurt enough by his life.

The day he met Dallas Winston, he'd been slapped. By his mother this time. Her preferred medium was words, but she could lash him with more than her tongue. Her hand felt like a whip, fingernails sharp. A bruise was forming on his face, and though he had darker skin, it couldn't be concealed.

Dally was the kind of greaser that gave the rest a bad reputation. Just by looking at him, you could tell he'd been in fights and won them. He was dangerous and wouldn't do anything that helped someone else. Johnny had met Tim Shepard before, and the two, though they looked different, had the same eyes- cold and smart beyond their years. Vicious and unmerciful. Ready to do whatever it would take to get themselves on top.

It was easy to be caught up in the idea of Dallas Winston. Arrested at age ten, survived on the streets of New York (New York!) for three years, could beat a guy up just by glaring at him. Dally could do anything.

But Johnny could see that Dally was more than his hardened exterior. It was easy to admire or fear or hate him, but difficult to know him.

Maybe Johnny was just making this all up. Because Dally fascinated him. Dally was smart. Dally was tough. Dally could get anything he wanted. And Johnny wanted that. Not the girls or fear, or the breaking every law for fun. He wanted Dally's courage, his not caring about anything. Maybe Johnny was trying to find ways to relate to Dallas Winston, because when he looked at this king, this boy that people followed without even realizing it, he saw someone like him deep down. Someone who had never been loved.

It was strange, Johnny's admiration of Dally. A part of him idolized the panther ready to pounce- the Dally who took what life threw at him and shredded it in his sharp claws. But the other part saw the kitten underneath it all, and longed to give it a saucer of milk without being scratched.

The more Johnny knew Dallas, the more it convinced him that there was more than what met the eye. Maybe his adoration came from the danger, but maybe it came from the fact that inside of Dally's head, there could be another Johnny, comatose but finally stirring. It was a silly thought. Still, Johnny wondered if Dally really was okay, or if his strength was a mask over unhealed scars.