de facto 〖 ponyboy curtis 〗

six.

Ponyboy

"What's goin' on with you, man? You ain't said two words to nobody and you've been starin' into outer space for an hour." Ponyboy's head snapped up in the direction of the voice of the boy who'd been talking the most.

"Nothin', Eddie, just thinkin' about English class. I've got this paper."

"Mr. Whatever hasn't given us a paper in weeks," one of the other boys, Danny, points out.

"It's a extra credit."

"Who's the babe?" Eddie questions, nudging Ponyboy with his elbow. By now, everyone who knew him knew Ponyboy's signs; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide them. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve like a bright, neon sign.

"No one."

"One of the chicks from your English class?"

"I said no one, alright?"

All of the boys, excluding Cole--Ponyboy's only real friend out of the group surrounding him—continued to prod about the girl until he lied and told them it was some girl they didn't know very well. He excused himself after, no longer wanting to get any more unqualified advice or suggestions from the, admittedly annoying, boys. He thought it was funny how they were constantly telling Ponyboy what he should do and who he should date when they had the lousiest taste in girls he'd seen and the worst of manners.

Cole knew how Ponyboy felt about his friends and he empathized: he'd never been a fan of Pony's friends either so they kinda understood each other on that front. "What's up, Ponyboy? Something's wrong."

"I just wanna go home, alright?"

"Lie."

"Okay, I was gonna go to the park."

"For what?"

In reality, he wanted a public space just close enough to the North side that it'd be possible to run into Jo-Lynn, but still on East side territory so he looked somewhat inconspicuous. She told him, while they were in the grocery store, that she lived right off of a street that he recognized, it was a little north of where he lived but not too far actually, at least driving. "A quiet place. I need to get this extra credit done and I work best outside."

"If you say so. Need a ride?"

"No, the park's not far." Lie. "I'll walk."

"Alright. See you Monday?"

"Yeah."

After a forty-five minute walk, Ponyboy made it to the park. There were only two other people there, one who he'd never seen before and another who he'd seen with Jo-Lynn a few times before. Before he could start picturing that guy as her boyfriend, he pulled out his book. The bench he sat on was warm, contrasting the cool gust of wind that hit him lightly.

"You followin' me?" Jo-Lynn asks quietly from the opposite end of the park bench. He was happy to see that his plan had worked.

"No," he lied, "Just reading."

"No park benches a little closer to home for you to read at?"

"Would it be weird if I told you I came, mostly, in hopes of running into you?"

She chuckled and looked around before taking a seat at the bench. He wondered if she were looking for the other two that were there but the thought vanished as he moved slightly closer to her. He wasn't close to her but even the slight closing of space between them excited him. "A little. That would mean you came all the way over here from school just for the possibility of being able to see me."

"So why's that weird?"

"Well," she shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant way even though it was a much bigger deal to her than she let on, "no one's ever gone out of their way to see me before."

"I've never gone out of my way for the possibility of seein' somebody before."

"Guess we're both experiencing some firsts, hm?"

He nodded and they fell into silence, Ponyboy trying his hardest to find something to say. Just then he remembered: "Oh! Uh, I brought you this." Leaves of Grass, the poetry collection by Walt Whitman, Ponyboy's favorite at the moment, was brought out of the boy's dark blue backpack but she stopped him before he could even rezip his bag.

"Oh, I don't take gifts from strange white boys who follow me around." He hoped it was a joke but the idea that she was being serious sent a wave of embarrassment through him, the type of embarrassment that he momentarily thought would no doubt kill him right on the spot until she giggled and took the book from him. "Calm down, alright? I was only jokin'. What's this?"

"Um, it's Walt Whitman. It was the only poetry book we own. You said you liked poetry."

"Ponyboy Curtis—Curtis was your last name, yeah?" She continued after he nodded, "Ponyboy Curtis. Why are you giving me your only poetry book?"

"Well, 'cause I like you and you like poetry."

Even though she'd gone steady with boys in the past, none of them seemed to be as thoughtful as Ponyboy, who she wasn't even dating. "I really appreciate it, but you don't have to give me this."

"I want to."

"Why are you so interested in me?" Before the Ponyboy could answer, the boy from earlier called Jo's name and she got up in a hurry. "Thanks, Ponyboy. I'll—uh—see you Monday. Thanks for this."

"No problem."

He watched her walk away and smiled to himself: she liked it, he thought. His walk home, while dangerous, was wistful. Long but wistful. He hoped she liked Whitman as much as he did, or even half as much. He could not wait to go to sleep on Sunday just so it could be Monday.

this chapter is dedicated to sodapopwinston who spammed me & i loved every minute of it
i've got some more ideas flowing so i will definitely update a little more frequently
nanite