The Outsiders: A Girl in the Gang

Chapter 10

        Johnny was walking into the outdoor theater at the same time as Pony and I.  We sat down in the metal folding chairs up front, it's not like any of us had a car to drive.

        We had fun, they showed four forty-five minute movies, and halfway through the second one, Soda and Steve showed up and ended up starting a food fight.  I couldn't resist joining in, we went through three bags of popcorn and at least some part of all of us was sticky with Coke splashed all over.

        We ran out of popcorn at the beginning of the fourth movie, and Sodapop insisted on buying more, but Pony objected.  He didn't want to get thrown out of the theater or risk getting in trouble with the fuzz, so Soda and Steve went to talk to some girls, and Johnny, Pony, and I finished watching the movie.

        It was just us three on the way home too, Soda and Steve had picked up the girls they were talking to and disappeared somewhere or another.  I wasn't surprised.

        My house was the farthest from the theater, both Ponyboy and Johnny's houses were closer, so I was walking along by myself in the dark.

        It had started raining a while ago, first a light drizzle that had by now turned into a heavy downpour.  I was soaked from head to foot, the denim of my jean jacket and jeans were sticking to my skin, it was so drenched I could feel every as if I weren't wearing anything.  My hair was plastered to my forehead and flopped in front of my eyes and I impatiently pushed it back before wrapping my arms around myself again.  Water squelched in my shoes and an icy shock traveled up my leg as I stepped in a puddle.  I glanced up and I could see our house up ahead, light was shining through the living room window, making the raindrops falling look like flashing silver fish jumping out of the water before splashing back into a puddle, sending rings outward.

        My shoes slapped against the porch stairs, and I pulled open the door and went inside.  The light was welcoming as I dripped all over the kitchen floor.  I could hear the rain pattering very distantly and it felt odd because the though I could hear it, the sound was no longer accompanied by the feeling of big fat watery drops covering me.

        Dally had the T.V. on, but he was already up off the couch and standing in front of me by the time I had gotten my drenched jacket off.

        "What took you so long to get home?  The movies are done at midnight, I expected you home an hour ago," he said loudly, angry but not quite screaming his head off.

        "The downpour," I said in a duh voice, wringing my jacket out on the floor.  It sounded like our gutter after it stops raining, the water spilling out of the hole and splashing on the damp ground.  Except for in this case it was the already water-damaged tiled floor of the kitchen.

        Dally scowled at me and said sternly, "It's one-thirty.  Just because it's raining doesn't mean it should take you an hour and a half longer to get home."

        "It's not my fault.  Pony stopped to talk to Curly something-or-other and had to introduce me or whatever," I replied, blaming Ponyboy.  It was his fault.

        I tossed my wet jacket onto the back of a kitchen chair with a wobbly leg, and Dally asked, "Curly Shepard?"

        "Sure," I replied nonchalantly, not really caring what the guy's name was, as I crossed my arms over my damp T-shirt and leaned against the doorjamb. 

        "I knew that kid would be trouble ever since you got here," Dally mumbled to himself.

        "Who, Curly?" I asked.

        "Him too, but no.  Ponyboy Curtis.  I don't want you talking to him anymore," Dally commanded almost calmly, but his voice was stern.

        "And why not?" I inquired accusatorily as I stood up, uncrossing my arms and facing him.  I may not be the best of friends with any of the guys, but I enjoyed hanging out with them, and if he didn't want me talking to Ponyboy, soon I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone but my brother, which is not something I ever looked forward to.

        "Because he can probably get worse than Soda with girls, and I don't need you to be that specific girl," he said, his tone getting angrier as his voice rose in volume.

        "What?!  He doesn't like me!" I shouted, guiltily recalling our earlier conversation after Two-Bit had drunkenly approached us and commented on us being a couple.  But I'd believed what Pony said.........I think.

        "Oh yeah, I bet he doesn't!  I told you, I don't want you talking to him!" Dally yelled, gesturing wildly  and almost smacking me in the face.

        "Who put you in charge of my life?  I can take care of myself, including who I'm friends with!" I screamed, enraged.  I hated him.  I couldn't stand my brother.

        "If you can take care of yourself, get out!  Don't come back, ever!" he shouted.

        "Fine," I said defiantly, staring right into his blazing icy blue eyes that matched my own.  I stared at him, thinking that maybe I would be better off on my own, on the street.

        "Get out before I smack you," he said coldly before turning away.  I turned around too, grabbing the doorknob and heading back out into the rain.

        I didn't know where I was going, I didn't care.  As far away from my damn brother as I could get was fine by me.

        The rain was still pouring down in buckets, but I ignored it.  It's not like I could get any wetter, and I was too furious to care about how cold I was.  My feet splashed through puddles as I ran down the street, absolutely furious at my brother.

        I could talk to whoever I wanted to and be friends with whoever I wanted.  If it just so happened that my friend's were Dally's friends, why'd he let me meet them in the first place?  I was mad, so mad I wanted to kill my brother, and I would too.  Or at least try if he approached me in this state.  But since I wasn't going back to our house, hopefully ever, I'd have to settle with picking a fight with someone or something else.

        My running slowed but I still aggressively stomped along the sidewalk, it was kind of hard to run with wet denim sticking to you legs.  I looked up from the dark wet concrete when a clattering sound echoed through the rain, catching my attention.  Something was moving in an alley, and I cautiously went over to see what it was, instinctively reaching for my switchblade in my back pocket just in case.

        The light above the raised concrete block serving as a side porch of one of the buildings illuminated a person tripping over junk in the alley.  It was a Soc, obviously drunk from the way he was walking and the nearly empty wine bottle clutched by the neck in his fist.