Dally's Baby Sister//Ponyboy Curtis

Chapter Twenty-Two//Holding Back

PONYBOY

I WALKED THROUGH town to pick up a new pack of cigarettes and a couple of things for Amelia. She's been having some—what she would like to call, "Demons"—over for the past week, and I figured I would surprise her with a new book. Ever since her and Dally moved into that new house, she's been feeling out of place. It wasn't just her so-called visitor. Not having her parents around in the mornings and having Dally home at night to eat dinner with her has really messed her up in the head. She never thought that she would see Dally in the same house at the same time her curfew was. She never thought she would see Dally come home from a job, sitting down at the dinner table, eating a nicely-cooked meal she had prepared for just the two of them. She called me one night and cried. I asked her what was wrong and why she was crying, trying to be the best boyfriend I could be. 

"I'm so used to my parents and handling them by myself, Pony," she said. "Dally just came home from work, and he was so happy to be home, but I haven't seen Dally eat dinner in our own home for years. I've been sitting in bed every night this week, waiting for my parents to start arguing, but I never hear them. That used to be the sound I fell asleep to at night, and it was my alarm clock in the morning before school. What am I gonna do, Ponyboy?" 

On the way to the book store, I caught the sight of Curly Shepard. I sighed, remembering how his sister had pushed around my girl, and I became uneasy. I told myself that it wasn't his fault, so I allowed myself to walk up to him and start up a conversation. I told him I was going to Amelia's new house and he wanted to see it, so he tagged along. Really, this was going to be me and her time together, but I didn't want to be rude. 

"What book do you think she'll like?" I asked aloud. Curly scoffed. 

"A book?" he said. I looked up from the bottom shelf and I stopped shuffling through different titles. 

"Yeah. She's not feeling good, and I thought this would be a good housewarming gift," I explained. Curly scoffed once again and I stood up with a copy of Frankenstein. He took it from my hands and let it fall to the floor. "Hey, that was a good one. She doesn't have that one, and we've watched the movie a ton of times. She really likes that story." 

"Enough with the pulp fiction. You really want to know what a girl likes?" he said. I had feeling that I wouldn't like what he said, but he said it anyway. "A girl wants nothing but a good time. Every girl wants that. Amelia Winston is no exception."

"Amelia? No, she isn't like that. She's disgusted by stuff like that. She's really been trying to build up her library—"

"Kid, get the hint—Amelia wants to be knocked back with her voice caught in her throat." 

"No, she's too innocent." 

"Nobody's innocent, Curtis." 

"What about Angela? She's nice," I said. Curly laughed and held his stomach. He put his hand on one of the high shelves and leaned against his arm. 

"Ponyboy, Angela's a total flirt! She can't control herself around boys," he said. "Listen, enough talk about Angela—" 

"Do you know what Angela did, Curly? Nothing. That fight was between Amelia and Angela's friends. Angela had nothing to do with that fight," I reasoned, but he still didn't get it. Why wasn't he defending his sister? That's his flesh and blood, so why wasn't he agreeing with me? Didn't he at least try to see it in the good guy's point of view?