Annabelle's Daisys.

Chapter 8

"Hey, Belle. Be-elle. Annabelle!" Two-Bit clapped his hands in front of my face, and I started, accidentally dropping my book in front of the bench I was sitting on outside of my high shool. Laughing, Two-Bit picked it up, and held his hand out to help me up. Taking his arm, and getting steady on my feet, he jerked a thumb to his old, beat up car. "You wanna lift home?"

Smiling, I lugged my bag over my shoulder, and lopped to catch up with him. "Sure, gee, thanks."

"Greasers." A boy with flood-pants, a madras jacket blossomed into our way, sneering and spat at my feet. "Dirty, filthy white trash."

Disgusted and stung, Two-Bit flushed a violent red and cursed, grabbed my hand and tugged me away.

Holding my hand out the window, and arching it so it looked like a dolphin, I felt the wind against my flesh. I was crying softly with my head turned, because Two-Bit didn't need to see me cry, 'cause crying doesn't help no one or nothing and it just makes you look stupid. Surely the blood that ran in my veins wasn't very different than what ran in that boys. I was human, he was human. He breathed the same air I did, saw the same sun set and rise. The only thing that separated us, the big difference was: money.

"Let's run away, Two-Bit... Far away." I sighed. "Just you and me. No 'Greasers', no 'Socs'. Just people. Plain, ordinary-people." my voice broke.

Two-Bit chuckled. "Uh-huh, where we gonna go to?"

I wiped my tears, sniffed, and considered this. "Ohio." I said finally.

"'Ohio', she says!" He laughed incredulously. "Anywhere in the world, and she choses *Ohio*..."

"Because," I sniffed, and dried my eyes on my sleeve. "It'll be the only place they'll never look."

Two-Bit smiled. "Mhm. And how will we make a living, Ms. Runaway?"

"We can be corn farmers, and in the winter months we'll sell our blood." I laughed thickly. "But, I'm serious. We could go. I'm able to work, and so are you."

Two-bit honked his horn as someone cut us off, with a cool model T car. "You're a dreamer, Annie. But this place... This places is who I am. I'm a hood-"

"Don't call yourself a-"

"Why shouldn't I?" He puffed out his chest with pride. "Hood and proud of it."

I didn't speak. I couldn't. How could he say things like that?

"What about Pony?" He laughed, being quietly sweet. Nudging my side. "Huh? How ya gonna live without him?"

Laughing, and shrugging it off, I looked out the window, as we neared the McDonald's.

"Hungry?"

"Nah, I'm parched though."I took out a nickel and handed it to Two-bit do he could buy me a Mountain Dew.

Back in the car, I unsuccessfully attempted to stifled a yawn.

"You had ha-uge Lit test today, didn't you? You and Ponyboy were up there studying nonstop all weekend."

I choked on a little bit of my drink, and thankfully, I could blame it on the potholes. Two-Bit wasn accusing, but it startled me all the same.

Pony and me really hadn't been studying my literature test at all really. We'd been cooped up in my room, giggling, and talking about poetry and smoking like fiends.... I wasn't lying... I did have an assessment that day, by it's not like I needed any help on it. I got A's in lit class. But Darrel didn't know that and Noah didn't pay attention. And why should he? He wasn't my dad, and he needed to worry about other, grown up things.

"Yeah!" I nodded affirmitively. "I'm sure I aced it, thanks to him. He said he'd help me with my Algebra homework tonight. So, I'll get good marks on that too."

Later, around 4, I looked out of my window, and expected Pony to be there, knocking on the glass.

But he wasn't. Then, at 5, I checked again, nothing.

Around six, I started to get restless, and I needed something to do. So I did something I never did, I went down into the basement to the 3 cardboard boxes that contained the things my mother had left behind.

After rifling through, I found what I was looking for. The photo album full of my mother-what was left of her, anyway. It was a Springfield, with black, thick construction paper for pages, and metal picture holders. The very first picture was my mom and dad in their wedding day.

It was odd seeing my Dad so young, so...happy. His curly white-blonde hair, dark eyes, and big smile made him handsome to anyone else. But it only made me laugh. Because now, I see the same smile, but slacked and sloppy. Drunken, bloodshot, glazed eyes. Mattled, dirty curls.

The next picture was Dad during the war. My dad stormed the beach in Normandy. I suspect that's why he drank so much.

The next, Mom holding a newborn Noah, but dad wasn't there. He was still overseas.

Then They're 5th year anniversary. Dad looked older, lined, and was obviously drunk. Mom was smiling, it was shocking how much I favored her, over my dad. Straight dark hair, pale skin, big hips, but otherwise petite. Full lips, wide eyes, and long eyelashes.

"Hey, there." A disheveled voice said.

I whipped around, and saw my Dad in his broken recliner, looking (oddly enough) sober.

"Dad- you scared me! Nearly gave me a heart-attack!" I clutched my chest, heaving slightly. "What're ya doing down here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He inclined his head to the album in my hands. "Your Ma?"

Frowning, I nodded. "It's just... Noah never tells me about her. He doesn't like to talk about her."

Dad considered this, and smiled. It was the smile much like the one in the wedding photo.

"Didn't you love each other?"

"That's not always the problem."

I nodded, looking at the ground. "It was for the best, you know. Neither of us was happy. And she left because.... Well, because she did."

"But where did she go?"

"I don't know what became of her, but I hope you grow to be ten times the woman she did."

I nodded, feeling hollow.

"She loved you and you do favor her so very much." He touched my face as he stood. He mounted the steps, and called over his shoulder. "Don't go looking for her, sweetheart. All you'll find is broken hearts and bottles. That's all I found."