Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

16. Victims Of Circumstance

"WHAT A HOME SO SAD AND LONE." - The Carter Family (Can The Circle Be Unbroken)

***

Had it really been a week?

The days all bled together into a seamless nightmare. Even at night, I had no choice but to lay there, staring at the shadows crossing my ceiling. And then, when the first few rays of sun shone through my curtains, I'd get up, having fully convinced myself I was just tired. Momma was still in Pawnee, she and Daddy were just taking a well-deserved break. By the time my brothers crept out of their rooms and down the hall to pick away at their breakfasts and I had already accepted the most recent pity meal, reality hit me like a truck. Over and over and over again.

Nothing seemed to change. Our sink was overflowing with dishes nobody bothered to touch, we all came out of our rooms at separate times, wandering around our home like strangers. But the news changed every day. Our parents and the crash that killed them barely took up a minute of the five o'clock news. Each morning there was another woman I didn't recognize standing on our front porch with a dish in her hands and tears in her eyes. Every day the phone rang at nine in the morning, Miz Green on the other end, asking why Darry, Soda, and I hadn't bothered to show up. Darry tried explaining, but you can only say your parents are dead so many times.

A week had passed, but it was still like nothing had changed at all. We were stuck in an endless loop, watching idly by as Tulsa moved on without us. The only time I didn't need to be reminded that I was still alive, was when I caught sight of the gang standing just outside our yard. The first time I caught them, Two-Bit had my textbooks tucked under his arm. I didn't bother asking how he'd gotten them, but something in the back of my mind told me I'd need a new lock when I went back to school. In short, I was a mess. My throat was still hoarse and aching from crying my eyes out, but I forced myself to thank him. Out of all of the gang, Two-Bit really was my best friend. Sodapop had Steve, Pony had Johnny. Dally -- well, I think Dally chummed around with us just 'cause we gave him a place to sleep and occasionally paid his bail, but he was just another brother thrown in the mix to me.

But when the door flung open and my textbooks littered the ground, I couldn't stop myself from falling into his arms. Burying my face in his shoulder, letting the tears go, Two-Bit ran his hands in gentle circles on my back. He didn't say anything, there was nothing to say, but I appreciated it all the same. The last we'd talked, was when he and Miz Mathews delivered some apple pie. "Take care of those boys of ours, alright Marley?"

Sure thing, Two. Once I'm sure I can take care of myself, they'll be priority number one.

I was already awake when my door popped open, I just didn't want to be. I didn't wanna face the brother in my doorway, either. "I'll be up in a minute," I mumble into my blankets, "I'm just kinda tired, Pone."

The house is silent. It isn't calm or comforting anymore, it's cold and distant. My room is cold like it shouldn't belong to me, but my bed is so warm. I just wanna melt right back into the covers, hide my face underneath the pillows and sleep off the nightmare for another day. I wanna sleep of the nightmare for one more day, like tomorrow will be any different. If anything, today is different. The edge of my mattress sink as he sits on it, brushing my clothes to the floor gently. That's when I realize who's sitting next to me, with his face in his hands. "Went through the last of the files last night," he sighs. "Should be everything Miss Johnson needs to see."

My spit tastes like copper as I turn onto my back and sit up in bed. My hair is a wild mess, the kind that could put a rat's nest to shame, but Darry doesn't look much better. He's stopped combing his hair back since the accident, said he looked too much like Daddy. That was the day after I told 'em about what happened. I nod my head and swallow the blood coating my tongue before dragging the back of my hand across my forehead. It's a sad attempt to clean up my hair, but that's all we've been lately. Sad, sad attempts at getting by.