Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

17. Speak Of The Devil

"MAYBE SHE AIN'T AS BAD AS I THOUGHT SHE WAS."

***

"God, I can't believe you," Angela hisses. I roll my eyes silently, you can only tell your sister to shut up so many times. We had barely stepped off the school grounds when she found me -- which was already suspicious. Ever since she started ninth grade, Angela would only be caught with me if it meant a ride in Pat's car. My first thought was that Bryon was getting a little too pushy and that Ang needed me to remind him whose little sister she was. Turns out, that was not the case. "I mean really, her parents just died! You were there!"

She'd been squawking in my ear ever since she caught sight of me at my locker and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Our shoes crunched against the gravel as we ducked into an alley, taking the shortcut towards the elementary school. Curly used to be able to walk home by himself, but that stopped after he got jumped three times in one week. Dumb shit didn't even think to tell any of us, I only found out after Ponyboy watched him get his ass handed to him for the fourth time. "I heard from Charlotte that Darry's dropping outta school," she continues, "he's tryna keep the state off their back. Maybe if you talked to her-"

I'll admit it, I was getting real tempted to push her into the garbage lining the broken fences and take off, but she'd probably slit my throat in my sleep. So, instead, I take the civil route and glare at her. "An' what was I supposed to say to her, huh?" I snap. "Sorry your folks are dead and your brother's a high school dropout? Sorry I left you downtown with a bunch of slimy cops?" Angela scoffs carelessly and rolls her eyes, so much so I'm surprised they don't get stuck. "Woulda been nice if you said anything. Ain't like her daddy's gonna come back." We walk along in silence. Without thinking, my thumbs begin to run against my knuckles as they bounce around in my pockets as the end of the alley grows closer. Angela finally had the grand idea to shut her red lips, but she twist them together, so I know she still has a lot to say. As if she can say anything I haven't been thinking about already.

I was a criminal. A greaser. A Shepard. Worst of all, I was a teenage boy, and those ran around town like they were looking for something to set on fire. Dally and me walked around the town with our heads held high, fists clenched around a switchblade with liquor and bloodlust running through our veins. We fought guys twice our size, crashed a couple beer blasts, slept in the holding cells down at the station more than our own beds. But somehow, girls always ended up looking twice when we made our way down the street. Dally was a lot more impulsive than I was, especially when he caught sight of a short skirt and smiling lips. I guess I had a habit of thinking with what was between my thighs rather than my ears, but what guy didn't? At least I never ditched a crying chick.

I couldn't sleep that first night. I could still feel her heart hammering against my side, I could still hear her trying not to break down in the middle of the waiting room. Curly snoring next to me did nothing to help clear my mind, not even as the dark sky turned light blue, then red, then yellow as the sun beat through the clouds. I couldn't get Mr. C's face outta my head, no matter how hard I tried. It was like it was stuck behind my eyelids, the bruises and scars painted across his skin, even if it was already turning blue and cold. By the time Tuesday morning rolled around, the Curtis folks were all anybody was talking about. By lunch, I watched a few of their gang stumble out of Mr. R's office, fists and faces bruised. I guess there weren't many nice rumours floating around, especially since the kids weren't around to defend their parents.

By the end of the day, Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other. What we'd talked about just hours before -- what I had accused him of -- remained a secret to everyone but us. The tension swan through the house like thick smoke for the rest of the night, threatening to choke me if I even acknowledged its existence. Sure, I liked being right, but I liked being alive more. I counted my losses and left for Pat's house before he had time to call me out on my bullshit. But here I was, walking along with my sister, trying to convince myself I didn't feel like the worst person in Tulsa for what I did. Jesus fucking Christ, I wasn't even the one kill them, some stupid semi did that.