Fast Cars and Freedom

Chapter 3- Baby, It's Cold Outside

Fast Cars And Freedom

Chapter 3: Baby, It's Cold Outside

I woke up fairly early the next morning and immediately recognized that I was laying on the Curtis couch, as I had awoken so many times before. Looking out the window I could tell that the sun wasn't even up yet.

After Sodapop fell asleep yesterday I hung out with Ponyboy until the gang came over, ate dinner, and told everyone that Soda was sleeping, leaving out most of yesterday's events.

Today would be another work day for Soda, Steve, and I. I wondered what Soda would be like, or if he would even be up for work.

The soft click of a door opening sounded throughout the house, taking me out of my thoughts, followed by the light taps of feet coming in my direction. Sure enough, Sodapop Curtis in all his glory soon stumbled out into the living room before halting when his sleepy eyes landed on me.

His hair was messier than ever, his eyes blinked at me still half-asleep with deep bags under them, and he was still wearing yesterday's clothes- which couldn't have been too comfortable- but somehow he still managed to look totally adorable.

"Hi." He spoke first.

"Hi." What else was there to say?

His lips turned up just the slightest bit, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. My eyes followed as he walked into the kitchen, filled a glass with chocolate milk, and took a seat beside me on the couch without saying anything more.

"She's pregnant."

My head slowly turned to stare at him before letting the information sink in. Well... that was sure blunt. I didn't need to ask who he meant. I knew who he was talking about immediately.

Suddenly, his words hit me and I was speechless.

Finally, I whispered, "You mean... it's yours?"

What would you possibly say if the boy you've been in love with for as long as you can remember told you out of the blue that his girlfriend was pregnant? I don't know why I felt the need to whisper, either, but I think anyone could recognize that the situation was a little delicate. I felt almost as if talking would pierce the silence in the room.

For the first time since sitting down, he thoughtfully raised his head to look me in the eyes. We simply stared at each other for so long that after a while I just accepted that maybe he wasn't going to respond to my question, but suddenly he did, breaking the silence.

"No."

The implications behind his words made my eyes grow wide, and soon I began to brim with anger. How could anyone in their right minds cheat on Sodapop Curtis? I certainly believe no person could want a much better person, so why would stupid Sandy cheat on this boy? And get pregnant? It was all too much.

Of course, everybody knew Sodapop was no innocent. I'm not naive, I often find myself stuck having to hear the gang's bull sessions, and while it was not stuff I really wanted to hear coming from my friends, it happens.

Now, however, I wasn't sure whether to feel furious at the fact that Sandy had cheated on my best friend, or relieved to know that Sodapop was not a teen parent.

But Soda was not done. After watching me intently for a few minutes, he looked away at the floor and continued, "I asked her to marry me anyways. I was gonna stay with her, even though it's not mine, but she's gone now. Left. Her parents would rather her be alone than stuck with a guy like me at seventeen. She's gone to Florida. Florida. With her grandmother."

A single tear escaped from Sodapop's eyes and he rubbed at it furiously. Without thinking, I grabbed his hands away from his face and pulled him into a tight hug. He immediately wrapped his arms around me. I could tell he wanted to cry again, but was holding it in.

"She would be lucky to have you and she's stupid to not realize that," I told him honestly.

When I knew he had started to calm down, I stood up and pulled him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table while I began to make hot chocolate. I swear, these boys will inhale anything with chocolate. Ponyboy and Sodapop especially. If not for Darry, the whole gang would probably live off chocolate cake and chocolate milk.

"What are you making?" Soda startled me by jumping up on the counter real close.

"Hot chocolate," I told him, watching his eyes light up at the thought. It was nice seeing his eyes light up after all that crying.

Five minutes later we were both sitting at the table when yet again I heard a door open within the house. Darry came strolling in, dressed and ready for work as usual, but looking tired beyond his years as he rubbed his face. He stopped when he saw us, saying, "You two are up early." Thankfully, nothing was said that morning about Soda's splotchy red face and tear tracks on his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After a rather uneventful day at work, Soda and I started walking toward his house.

Oh, yeah, you're probably wondering why I never seem to mention going home. I, like so many other greasers, mostly consider the Curtis house my home. I do have a house, but it's really my foster parent's. My parents died in a car accident when I was five, much like how the Curtis' passed away. For a while I was in and out of foster homes, until I started living with my current 'parents' a few years ago. They only wanted me for the money they get from fostering a child. Eventually I just got used to it. As long as I stay away from the house, they don't bother me and they can keep collecting checks. So, I sat away.

I turned to look at Soda, whose eyes were focused on the white ground. Maybe Tulsa doesn't get tons of snow, but we can get about a foot some winters. Not too much snow, but not too little. Soda and I have always been fond of snow, anyways.

"Hey Soda..."

"What?"

"Well... you know... I was just thinking... last one to the lot has to do the dishes!" I sped off running as fast as I could, letting the cool December air rush over me. Behind me, Sodapop was yelling, "Hey! Not fair! You're a cheater!" I just laughed at him, because we both knew I was gonna win. I didn't feel like doing dishes that night.

Once I made it to the lot I slowed down, catching my breath. I plopped down onto the snow and started to make a snow angel. Considering that there was only about six inches of snow, this task is easier said than done.

Soda finally caught up with me, as he fell down beside me onto the snow and started to make another snow angel. "That was cruel, Em." He tried to sound mad, but I could tell he was glad to be doing something. He's like that; always doing something, high on living.

Soda stood up first, admiring his work, then extended his hand as I stood up, too. As I looked down at our side-by-side snow angels, I whispered, "Hey Soda..."

"What?"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"They're snow-greasers."

Sodapop turned toward me with the weirdest grin on his face before we both burst into laughter. Moments like these made me savor our friendship and reminded me why I could never tell Soda how much I like him. I never wanted that moment to end.

"Sure are, Emily. A bunch of regular hoods if you ask me."

He shot me his signature grin before throwing an arm around my shoulders good-naturedly. I froze at the contact. It felt like his fingers were burning my skin in the cold weather, and I liked it. So we walked all the way home side by side, occasionally sharing some dumb story then laughing 'til our stomachs hurt. There was no talk of work, no talk of life, and no talk of Sandy.