The Outsiders: Book Two

6 Packs of Booze and a Galaxy

Over the craziness of the last few days, the guys didn't really tease me too much. I couldn't really process what the heck had happened. It was like I'd known Red all my life, when I knew nothing about her, except something that would come up occasionally, like favorite foods—hers was cheesecake with meringue and strawberries—or other meaningless things.

Her past was mostly a mystery, and I never bothered to ask. I figured if she didn't feel like sharing it, I shouldn't try to force it out of her.

Occasionally, she would talk about her brother, Cowboy—the guys thought that was a riot, with me being Ponyboy, but I think ponies are better than cows anyway—and how she seemed to talk about him, one minute admiringly and the next scornfully, but it was evident she loved him a lot. Apparently, he'd run away when they were little because their dad had left them, and he got into fights with their mom. Red left two years ago, after her mom's frustration was getting to be too much.

When ever Red talks about that, her eyes get steely, and turn cold—like she's trying not to care. I don't think she knows that Soda and I notice, but we don't let on that we do. Who wants to feel vulnerable?

We talked a lot, just Red and Soda and I. Red and I were sick, and Soda had to stay to watch us. You can't really trust Two-Bit with two sick kids, especially when there's beer and chocolate cake in the fridge, and Mickey Mouse is on the television. Darry worked, Steve too, and Ricky was still the “new guy.” So Soda stayed with us, and with not much better to do, he talked to us and we told stories and jokes.

Turns out, for a while Red was in New York City, looking for her brother, and this drunk stumbled out of a bar and proposed to her. Soda and I told her about the time Darry was trying to teach Steve a back-handspring, and the stupid moron kicked Soda in the face. Steve gave Soda a real good shiner on his cheekbone for a while. Red told us about trying to hitch a ride west, and a guy picked her up, a guy who had three little kids in the back. One of the little kids got into a fight with another, and someone back there said a “bad” word, and the dad got the kid out of the car and started switching him. Red had to get out and explain it was her that said the bad word because she accidentally bit herself. Then the guy apologized to the kid and took them all out for ice cream. Soda told her about how we always teased Darry about being Superman, and called him Muscles or something—and Two-Bit making the mistake of saying he was “all brawn and no brain.” She seemed to get a kick out of that.

We exchanged a lot of stuff like that, and got a few real good laughs. We usually hung out in my room, and all just sat in the bed together, eating and joking. It seemed like time flew, and despite being sick, I actually was really enjoying myself. Ricky didn't hang around much, but when he did, he liked to lean against the wall and talk with us. I don't actually know where he was staying, but it wasn't usually here.

Red hung around with us for a week, but finally, on Saturday morning, she said, “I need to get out.”

Darry, Soda, and I looked up from our breakfast, startled. “What?” we chorused.

Red and I had been feeling better, and sometimes we went out and sat on the porch, but often not for long. It was getting really cold lately, and we weren't allowed to go anywhere because Darry was worried we might get sicker. Even this week, we were hitting record low temperatures, and they were only supposed to get lower. Then again, the weatherman is never right.

Red looked nervous. “Um...yeah. I need to get out of the house. I'm starting to forget the real reason I'm here.”

“You mean...leave? Like, forever?” Soda asked, looking stricken. “But you can't—”

“No, no, I could come back, I just...I need to get the score on the city. I've never been here. I'll still be in town, just in a hotel or somewhere.”