Hiraeth | The Outsiders

|3|

"So...he takes this-" a bottle of pills was shaken, "-at breakfast and dinner...Then that one in the afternoon?"

A confirmation from the blonde female, and the one she learned as being Ponyboy nodded in understanding. That was easy enough. "He's gonna miss a whole lot of school."

"I'm sure you'd be able to pick up the work for him."

"Ah nah, he doesn't care for homework or anythin'."

"He should if he wants to get out of his little situation," she fired back, "In any case, I'm sure they'd understand."

"How should I get this through to the teachers, anyway?"

"Have Darry take care of it," the "movie star" - Sodapop - suggested hopefully.

"I'm not Johnny's parent of guardian," the head honcho - or who she learned was Darry - interjected with negativity, adding up the stress she felt.

She opened her mouth, exasperated, but realized if he was out in the lot, with healed scars previous to this encounter, they were probably shit parents, if they could even be considered family. 

Sitting at the table, it was simply her and the three that occupied the home left behind. Late that night, the rest had left begrudgingly, and she continued to stay to keep an eye on him. She let out a breath, leaning back a little before glancing around, avoiding the expecting eyes. Puffing her cheeks, and grimaced a little as she figured there was only one option. Taking Ponyboy's notebook, and pen from his hands, taking notes on medications and Johnny's "therapy treatment," she scribbled down something herself with her swollen hands, checking a little note card revealed from her pocket, before passing it back.

"Tell them to give me a call if they have a problem with it." Standing up from the table, both palms flat on the wood as her chair scooted noisily across the floor. She trekked to the front screen door, the boys spinning around to watch her leave. "Hold on, what can you do?"

Turning around and raising a brow, she chose not to respond. All that was left was the squeaking of the door, footsteps trotting away from the home, and then silence. "We shouldn't have let her gone at this time of night."

"I'm sure she'll be fine. She probably would have stayed whether we liked it or not." They all nodded lightly in agreement of her rambunctious character, as to not wake the sleeping boy in the living room. "They really did him over good, huh?" Sodapop's voice was soft, a brewing anger hidden under a layer of regret.

"I'm sure Dally and Two-Bit are making their mark right about now," Darry sighed, "It may do the trick."

-~*~-

Johnny wasn't the same after the incident. Much more timid and reserved, hands in the pockets of his favorite jean jacket. Funny enough, the same blood-stained jacket appeared the next day on the doorknob of the Curtis home. 

He did well for the first week. He didn't fall short of determined, besides losing the little spark he had. Sometimes, if he felt well enough, he sat on the front porch, watching cars and people alike pass by without even glancing over. He did get a little grouchy when he was told he wasn't allowed to smoke. The fumes were calling for him, the cravings almost too much to handle, so through all his begging, they finally gave him permission during his second week, seeing as he came along rather well.

Surprisingly, everything went along well in Johnny's recovery. No slip-ups were made, and all the instructions left behind had made their wonders on the shy greaser. Even some of the more bizarre instructions underlined as being significant. They were not too important, if not redundant to their eyes. The girl could have been a witch, that was how intriguing his recovery was. He kept asking about her, but the gang were not able to give him much to go off of to find her.