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There was hardly anything of utmost importance to have every one of the boys gathered and angry. They were like wolves, snarling, claiming murder and vengeance. All except Virginia who sunk into her seat and watched chaos unfold in front of her eyes.
The only people in the house was Ponyboy and Sodapop, engaged in an intense game of cards when their sister came home, hair frizzy, eyes bright and skin splotched with dirt. They demanded to know what happened and whose path she crossed but their questions were squashed by the sheer eccentric laugh she let out. She showed no fear, not until she sat down and felt the burn of her cheek cut.
Johnny rubbed his lip with his thumb— his own sigil of thought. His dark eyes were filled with concern at the sight of Virginia's face. The girl couldn't have been more uninterested in the loud ruckus coming from the living room and so, she chose to take Johnny and Ponyboy with her to the back of the kitchen— the babies of the gang, Steve had sneered. She sat on the floor bitterly and silently, pressing a tissue against her cut that had long since dried.
"Shoot, that's a deep cut," Johnny reminded for the millionth time, tilting his head to get a better look at her face. "Does it hurt?"
Virginia grinned though it never reached her eyes. "Nope."
Johnny shrugged, raising his half burned cigarette up to his chapped lips. He flinched when he heard shouting—Steve, Darry, and Sodapop's voices fought each other— and sighed.
"You really blew it this time," Ponyboy scoffed, stealing her cigarette. He grunted when he felt her hand collide with the back of his head.
"I didn't do anything," Virginia grumbled, restlessly tapping her fingers on the old linoleum of the kitchen floor. She took the cigarette Ponyboy held out to her and raised it up to her lips, shuddering at the cool inhale of smoke. It seemed to take a bit of that stinging pain away from her mind and leaving room for invigorating thoughts to take place.
Virginia imagined a war council brewing in her living room. She could picture it perfectly in her head— Darry at the green recliner, a deep and grim look on his strict face. At his right hand side would be Tim Shepard, a silent fury with a strong hand. Around them, Sodapop and Steve would be bursting with adrenaline to go out and get their fists bloody. Two-Bit would be loitering or drinking the bulk of their beer, not showing any particular interest in their bickering but ready to pounce whenever he could.
And yet no sound of Dallas anywhere.
She stood up, drawing more courage from that cigarette and grabbed the two young boys by their elbows, yanking them up.
"What, ready to die now?" Ponyboy asked flatly, tugging his arm away from her.
"Let's go and take a walk by the lot," Johnny suggested softly.
"No, I won't sit here like some-some damsel in distress. They don't know what happened," she stated firmly.
"Just hold on!" Ponyboy hissed, watching his sister storm off in an impassioned confidence. He stared at Johnny, hooks his fingers around his belt loops and silently followed.
