medicine. dallas winston - the outsiders

8

THE EIGHTH CHAPTER;
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"Kimberly? What the–" Miranda was up in my face mere seconds after I stepped inside. I could tell, already, she had been in the bottle. She's not nearly as bad as some people I knew..but she sure can drink. It's scary sometimes.

She grabbed me by the back of my neck, yanking my face closer to hers. "Who did this to you, huh?" I winced at her actions. I could smell the alcohol on her breath, too. For a second I was just thinking to myself about how I'd never wanna drink like her. Or how my mother used to.

"And where were you last night?" She pressed on, her eyes cold and narrow. "Why aren't you in school?" She seemed like she had sixty million questions to ask. She wouldn't shut up long enough to let me answer.

"Just–" I wince as a sharp pain shoots through my head. This headache sure is something, i thought. "Nothin'. Don't worry about it, Aunt Miranda. Okay?" I try to walk past her.

"Who did this to you?" She repeats, this time more demanding. I swear sometimes her voice sounds like my mother's. Especially just then.

I winced again and then looked at her coldly. "I was walkin' to friend's house." I nod my head, "I was just about there then some kids jumped me. They beat me up." I took in a sharp breath. "They knocked my ass out." The more I talked, the more I got worked up.

Miranda's eyes rounded slightly—then her grip on my arm tightened. "So why didn't you just come on home then?"

That's all she's worried about, I thought. "I-I passed out, man." For some reason, tears were beginning to well up in my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "I woke up this mornin' on my friend's couch." I sucked in my bottom lip, then looked away from her.

"Which friend? Who beat you up? Was it one of those hoods, huh?" She started with her questions again. I shook my head and pulled my arm out of her grasp, pushing past her to walk towards my room.

Suddenly the thoughts of what I had just said to Dallas Winston went through my mind–and it caused the tears in my eyes to finally roll down my cheeks.

"It wasn't even them, Miranda. It was th-those hoods that saved me!" I turn around to face her. I don't think she could even comprehend what I said then. Either that or she just didn't want to listen.

"I don't want you hangin' around nobody in this neighborhood." She crossed her arms, "You'll end up worse off than what you are now. You don't even know what could happen to you."

I've had plenty done to me, I thought.

"You can't tell me who or who not to hang out with." Was I sounding bratty? I felt more tears rapidly run down my face.

She looked at me and glared. "What would your mother–"

"My mother is dead!" I scream at her. I wasn't even going to let her finish her sentence. "You cannot tell me what to do!"

At that, her hand struck my face. My head turned to the side, and I whimpered. At the moment I wasn't seeing her, I was seeing my mom. I was seeing all of her men she had. I was seeing Hollywood.

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I pull my knees up into my chest, staring straight ahead of me, and then I rest my chin gently on my knees. Two-Bit walked me to a place called The Dingo. It's a Greaser hangout. When we arrived there I immediately could tell, lots of trouble goes on here. There literally was a cop parked on the other side of the street, just watching.

I sat in a booth beside of Two. He had a cigarette between his lips. He leaned his head backwards and blew out some smoke, then looked at me. "Glory, man. You bored, too?"

"Uh huh." I sigh. What the heck was there to do? It's Saturday, why's it so boring?

"I could try to find us some action, but, I dunno if you're up for it. You up for it?" He looked at me, the smile on his face was mischievous to say the least.

"What d'ya mean, action?" With Two-Bit, I really couldn't guess. I don't think he'd do something extreme. I know he's not as innocent as what Ponyboy seems to be, and I'd hope he's not as dangerous as.. Dallas.

"C'mon." He stood up from his seat, motioning for me to follow. "Let's go to a Gas Station or somethin'." He passed me the butt of his cigarette–as if I wanted it. My eyebrows knitted together and I tilted my head a bit, then I just shook it. I tossed it on the ground and sighed.

"Why don't we just go to the DX, then?" I noticed he was leading me in the opposite direction. I was tired, my feet hurt, and it was hot. I didn't want to walk farther than what need be.

"We can't go to there. I'd feel guilty."

"Why?"

"My buddies work there, stupid!"

It didn't take me long to realize Two-Bit planned on stealing from the gas station.

He forced me to follow him and when we got inside, I thanked god for air conditioning.

Two-Bit walked around, making me follow close to him. The cashier was eyeballing us–him, mainly. Suddenly, Two shoves something into my sweatshirt pocket, and I gasp a little.

I don't think the cashier realized we were stealin', but he sure did think something was up.

"I think you two better head on outta here." He said, chewing on the smelly tobacco in his mouth.

"Yeah, lets go." Two-Bit had his hands shoved in his pockets. He briskly walked, then bumped into a display case thing. He cursed a bit, and pulled a hand out of his pocket. Then, a bag of candy fell out of his pocket. He looked up fast, then laughed. I didn't know if I shoulda laughed, or got scared. "Let's go, Rosie!"

Next thing I know the two of us are sprinting down the sidewalk, an angry cashier chasing after us. I was scared beyond belief, but at the same time, kind of excited.

"C'mon!" Two-Bit hollered, "That old man can't keep up with us much longer." He pulls me into an alleyway quickly, then ducks behind a couple of trash cans. We were out of breath, smiling, yet successful.

We hear sirens and my eyes slightly widen.

"He called the fuzz on us that quick?" Two-Bit didn't seem phased by it. The sirens got real loud as the cop car passed by us, then it got slightly softer. When it stopped, we hear yelling. And then the sounds of feet slapping against the pavement, running towards us.

I was standing behind Two. I couldn't see, and a part of me didn't want to. I was already preparing myself to get arrested.

"Glory, look who it is. What's hangin, Dal?"