Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

22. I'll Be Damned

"THEN THE MOMENTS PASSED YOU BY." - The Lumineers (Nobody Knows)

***

Unlike the other social workers I'd heard about, Miss Johnson seemed to actually enjoy her job. Or maybe she just enjoyed us, since the house wasn't littered with cigarette burns and empty bottles, with parents screaming in the background. The only noise came from the radio playing softly in the kitchen, and the beating of our hearts when she stepped into the living room and asked Ponyboy to follow her back to the table.

We'd known about this meeting for weeks. It was written on every square inch of paper we could find, and Miss Johnson's results would be the only Christmas present we'd need -- if they were positive, obviously. The second her tight, brown ponytail disappeared around the corner, my smile dropped and my shoulders slumped forwards. I had nothing against the dress Donna had let me borrow, I really liked it, actually. True to her word, she'd stuck around and helped as much as she could. Donna even spent the night with us -- with Darry -- so that we'd be all set for Miss Johnson's visit. Hell, I was even wearing makeup. Not the cheap stuff you'd get at the drugstore, either. This was the real expensive kind, the kind she told me she got every holiday. She helped me pull most of my hair into curlers last night, too. Darry said it made us look more put together. I kinda worked, I guess. We'd spent the entire morning cleaning, all of us, in order to keep the house presentable. Now that we all dressed like we popped outta some sitcom, I could only imagine it helped the whole "please-don't-split-us-up-we're-a-happy-family" facade.

I pulled at the fabric of my skirt anxiously, straining my ears for any piece of information that could drift down the hall. Darry was the first of us to be called into the kitchen, as if Miss Johnson lived here and we were the strangers who just wandered in. He didn't bother telling us what she'd asked him since he came back, but it had taken a whole ten minutes. I think we were all afraid to talk -- afraid to breathe, really. Even the tiniest action would end with Ponyboy and Soda tossed in a boy's home, me going wherever , and Darry, alone. Sure, I'd barely spoken to him since Tuesday evening, but he was still my brother. As stupid, and selfish, and arrogant as he may be. Sodapop sat beside me on the couch, playing with the tie Darry had forced him to wear. We weren't seeing eye to eye right now, either.

Not after he came home Thursday with the rest of the gang, going on and on about how Tim was trying to start a fight. In all honesty, I knew Tim liked starting fights. Everybody on the east side likes starting fights. But Sodapop shoulda known better than to drag his stepdaddy into conversation, even if it was true. We kept it all under wraps until the gang left, that's when it turned real ugly. It was a screaming match in the middle of the living room while Darry was busy trying to go over the bills in the kitchen. I think our argument was the last thing on his mind now, especially after he asked Darry what Tim meant by "ask your brother whose side he's on."

That's when Darry started yelling at both of us, saying he had everything under control and that if we worried anymore, our heads would explode. These boys really don't know a damn thing. I think Darry's head woulda been the one to explode after Soda said Tim would be swinging by today, but we never got that far. Ponyboy slamming his bedroom door loud enough for the windows to shake was enough for us to break away to our own separate corners of the house.

My eyes move from the small television screen in front of me to the doorway when I hear the floorboards creak. Ponyboy's standing there, still looking far too pale and thin to pass for healthy, Miss Johnson's manicured nails curled around his shoulder like talons. "You go an' sit down now, honey," she says to him sweetly. Her lips are painted a bold red, the same colour as her wine-coloured blouse. Her teeth are big and white, the front two sticking out a little bit further than the rest. Underneath thick, dark lashes, her brown eyes latch onto mine. "Can I talk to Marlene next?"