A Little Off-Limits - Ponyboy x Reader

The Chips in the Ditch

You
The library, though upset with my absence, let me return to work with there. With it being summer, and my not having much to do, I decided that from then on I would take up some longer shifts. And Steve, now afraid of me getting into another "Get hit by a car or get picked up" situation, let me have Dad's car, since he had taken a bus to get to Cali, and it seemed unlikely that he was coming back at all. Two months was a lot of time for him to be gone. I tried to call the number he gave on the last postcard he had sent, but an old man who had never heard of my dad answered, told me that was the number for a call in-radio station, and hung up. So I wasn't expect him to come back, and I didn't know if I wanted him to.

     I parked in the back corner of the lot, away from the other cars. It backed up to the woods after a good ten yards or so of pond space. The other corner in the back was right near a little hill that, if you went over it, revealed an odd structure; it looked like a dried up fountain. There were stairs made of cracked cement leading down into it, and a platform to stand on and another to sit on, and then a lower area where stones lied and weeds grew. And then higher up, at ground level, there was a railing that kept one from falling down into this pit. It was a truly strange thing, especially because it looked as if no one had touched it in years. I didn't have much time to check it out, but that was where I went on my lunch hour; I would run across the street to this market where I bought a soda and a mini bag of chips, rush back across the street and to the back of the lot, and I would sit in that deserted pit or whatever it was. I took to calling it the Ditch, even if it wasn't a ditch. I don't think ditches have cement walls.

     I jumped from my seat when a voice echoed against the walls of the Ditch one afternoon. It said, "Why are you hanging down there?"

     I looked up, as I was sitting against a wall, and saw Ponyboy hanging himself over the railing, staring down at me with an awkward smile. My face grew hot, but I didn't blush. I was good at not showing how I felt, especially when it was crucial. He had on a dark green t-shirt with the DX logo on it, so I figured he had stolen it from Sodapop. I chuckled at him, the back of my head tapping the wall.

     "Getting away from hoods like you," I joked.

     He huffed, looking up across the parking lot and pressing his lips together. Then he gripped the railing and swung himself over it; I flinched and watched as he climbed down the wall and straightened next to me. "I'd take offense to that, you being in that fancy dress of yours, if you wasn't Steve's kid sister," he commented with a cute grin.

     "You know, there are stairs." I matted the baby blue fabric of my skirts down and crossed my legs.

     Pony said, "There are, but there's no fun in using them."

     "You're gonna kill yourself one of these days, Ponyboy Curtis."

     "Maybe I will"—he sat and pulled a smoke from his pocket—"and maybe I won't."

     "You're good at talking, but not at saying things." I watched him light up his cigarette and put it to his lips. He sat against the bench I was sitting on, his head next to my knees.

     "Maybe you're onto something there," he said.

     "For real though, why are you here? Don't you have some Tom-foolery to get to with the guys?"

     "Nah. Steve and Soda's working, Dally's at Buck's, getting blown. Johnny picked up a gig at the grocery store stocking shelves the other day so he can stop relying on his parents for food. And me, I ain't got no one but myself. I went to bug you at your station, but they said you was on lunch, and when I stepped outside I saw you walk over the hill."