Begin [Ponyboy Curtis]

Cigarettes

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: Hospitals, Death, Mentions of addiction

Playlist: Out Of Exile - Audioslave

We stepped off the front porch. The clouds were starting to reflect pinks, oranges, and lilacs across the sky. I took a deep breath of the slowly cooling air and looked over at Dally. He flicked a match across his necklace, lighting a fresh cigarette and offering me a drag. Something about it coming from him was tempting, but I declined. Maybe it was because I saw him as someone cooler than me.

"Listen, kid. I spent some time in New York. Things are different there," he took another deep breath of his cigarette and spoke through the smoke, "my friend's little sister wanted to start fightin' too, granted you are a lot tougher than her, but those guys didn't even hesitate." He glanced around us and yanked his leather jacket closer around his body.

I hate lectures, especially from people in no place to be giving them. Dallas Winston is the fighter of the gang. He brags about black eyes and bruised ribs. I mean, imagine the audacity, "I understand that, Dally-"

"No you don't," he stopped me, his face was the coldest and meanest I'd ever seen it, "Dorthy, she ended up in the hospital. An' when her good-for-nothing parents refused to pay the hospital bill she died in the car on the way home."

My stomach dropped. My dad wouldn't do that to me, but the idea of ending up in the hospital made me sick. I looked up at him sympathetically, by the heaviness splayed across his face he knew her like he knows the rest of the gang.

We walked in silence. I watched our shadows bobble in front of us and pushed the lump in my throat back to my stomach.

The loud revving of a car engine made me jump, Dally spun on his heels. The car pulled up next to us, parking crooked to block the upcoming alleyway. Dally held his arm out, pushing me behind him. A group of socs climbed out of the car, I only recognized one of them: Bob, Cherry's boyfriend.

Bob made eye contact with me and grinned. I assumed Randy told him all about the incident at the lot.

"What are you doing walking on our streets, hood?" A brown-haired guy asked, "draggin' this pretty lady down in the trash with you?"

"She ain't a pretty lady, Louie," Bob leaned against their car, "she's one of them."

Each of the Socs turned their attention to me, "I thought yall were supposed to save your bullshit for the rumble?"

"We're just talkin', Dorthy," Bob reasoned.

Dally scoffed and shook his head. He had one hand in his pocket, I assumed he was holding a knife in there.

I stepped forward, standing with Dally, "Get lost, snob-"

"You picked the wrong side, girly," he leaned forward and chuckled.

Louie, with the brown hair, joined in, "we wouldn't take you back if you begged, babe. Who'd want second-hand meat?"

The lot of them laughed, I guess anything is funny when you're drunk.

Dally glanced down at me. He was clenching his jaw and impatiently rolling his shoulders.

I took a deep breath, looking back to the Socs, "I'll see you guys at the Rumble," I gave them a fake smile and grabbed Dally's arm, leading him around the car.

A deep, unsettling voice answered, "looking forward to it."

I didn't dare look back.

My ears burned from the rage, and the adrenaline started letting itself out in bursts of shivers.

We waited to talk until we knew those boys went their own way. Dally flung his arm around my shoulder, "you handle yourself well, but I can tell you're scared, hun."

"Not scared," I knew he was referencing my chattering teeth, "I get jittery when I'm excited... or anxious."

He raised an eyebrow, "anxious and scared are the same things ain't they?" Once again, he offered me a cigarette. This time I took it.

"Fear comes for cowardly thoughts. Anxiety comes from smart thoughts."

He shrugged and lit my cigarette for me.

I inhaled cautiously, to keep from coughing like a fool. I guess the years of second-hand smoke eased me in because I was able to take a drag on the weed without hacking up my lungs.

I watched Dally smoke for a block or two, watched the paranoia build up each time we passed an alley or crossed the street. He was street smart, and it made him just as anxious as me.

"Did you notice the Socs that was leaning on the car?"

"The one that started picking on you?"

I nodded, flicking my ashes to the ground, "his name is Bob, he's friends with a guy that owns a blue mustang."

Dallas perked to attention like a dog, we hit my street and he lit himself another cigarette, "yeah

"He always wears that fist full of rings..."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know for sure, Dally, but I've been around other Socs and..." I played the shared memory of Johnny being jumped over in my head, "if I had to guess, I'd guess it was that pretentious fuck."

He nodded, scoffing at the idea, "we'll get him at the rumble." He gave me a hard pat on my shoulder, stopping at my front gate, "oh, Dorthy?"

"Hum?"

He tossed me a box of cigarettes, "I nabbed a bunch of these before I went to the Curtis' house. First ones free, next time you owe me a coke."

I smiled, "thanks, Dal. See you later."

The stolen cigarettes were more than appreciated. Nicotine and an addictive personality aren't a good mix.

Dad and Stacey were gone, again. It felt like they disappeared overnight far too often. I couldn't help but wonder what they were doing that needed to be outside of the house. I went up to my room and decided to work out; as if a few days of push-ups would keep me from ending up like that girl Dally knew.

Once I was tired and sweaty, from every workout I'd ever learned I took a shower. My dad always picked me up the same matching Herbal Soaps set in the dark green bottle. The scent was calming and I relaxed my muscles under the hot water for a while.

I no longer scurry from the bathroom to my bedroom in a towel, afraid to run into Stacey or my dad and make the moment awkward. They don't come upstairs anymore, so after my shower, I strolled back to my room.

The lights downstairs remained off, and the bottom of the steps spit out darkness like a black hole. In perfect contrast to the stairs, my bedroom door was dark brown with a line of yellow light shining under it. I stopped in my tracks feeling a cool breeze coming from underneath the door. I stepped back, the pads of my feet not making any noise on the wooden floors, I held my breath listening for someone else in the house. My ears failed me, being filled with nothing but silence and the pumping of my blood. I pulled my towel around my chest tighter, securing it under my armpits. Like ripping off a bandaid I swung my door open.