Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

24. The Family Legacy

"BET DADDY WOULD BE REAL PROUD OF THE MAN YOU'VE BECOME."
tw// sexual assault

***

Mr. Syme was thin and tall, with wiry, silver hair to match the square frames of his glasses. My English classroom was empty now, the kids flooding out into the halls the second the bell rang and sent us off to lunch. But here I was, hands folded nervously in front of me, and my copy of Robinson Crusoe dropped on his desk. It's our first day back at school since the holiday break, and I didn't do any of the reading I was supposed to. (I'd given it to Ponyboy back in September and would just ask him what happens in each chapter, but he's already finished it twice.) The book isn't the reason I'm standing here in front of him when I'm supposed to be meeting my brothers at the DX, though. It has nothing to do with my lack of comprehension skills and everything to do with the blood staining the back cover.

I'd been in this class for four months -- five, since it's January -- and the Socs have never given me any trouble. Not until my parents died. Not until Darry stopped coming to school. Not until Donna Micheals was found in the alley behind The Dingo, dead. I was the one drop of blood in a pool of sharks sitting there, stuck in the middle of ski jackets and long poodle skirts. I was Darry Curtis's little sister and so far, everyone was convinced it was his fault his girlfriend was dead. The gang and I did what we'd been trained to do since we started school with them. Kept our heads high, did everything in our power to ignore the rumours and cruel words aimed at our skin like knives and bullets. I really did try to keep my composure with Bob Sheldon stuck behind me. I didn't even flinch when he tugged on my hair, even if it really hurt. We only had two minutes left of class, and I was real proud of myself for keeping calm.

No matter how hard he pulled on my hair, or the back of my shirt until the collar was pulled tight against my neck, I didn't react. I didn't react until he leaned over his desk and whispered in my ear. "If I were your parents, I woulda killed myself, too."

I knocked him out of his chair with the force of my swing. Bob was lying there on the floor as chaos erupted around us. People yelled back and forth, some demanding I be expelled, others were begging to get a closer look at the bag of broken bones and mangled cartilage hanging off Bob's face. And I stood there, in the middle of it all, with three hundred and four bloody pages and quickly wiped away my tears before anyone could see. What I'd done was bad. What I'd done was so horribly inexcusable it was a miracle Mr. R hadn't drug me out of the school already.

But what Paul did was bad, too. Sure, it didn't happen on school grounds or even when we were in school, but it was still bad. Evil. And now he walked the halls like a god with the title my brother had to sacrifice for us. The title of team captain.

Now, Mr. Syme's once kind eyes were focused on a thin slip of paper on his desk as he drags his pen across it in quick, clean strokes. No doubt telling Mr. R I needed to be expelled before anyone else got hurt. The seconds are ticking by slower and slower as I stand there, too petrified to even raise my eyes to lock with his when the pen finally stands still. "I shouldn't have done it," I mutter thickly. I'm like a kid caught with her hands in the cookie jar, still thinking she's cute enough to slip away unscathed if she apologizes. There's no use going to the Sheldons. Begging for forgiveness at their feet? Please. With what I did to their kid's face, I'll be lucky they don't riot for my execution.

The pen falls against his desk as he folds his hands and clears his throat. I swallow my pride like the cough syrup we keep in the back of the medicine cabinet and raise my eyes to him. "Really, I know it was wrong, an' that I shouda just ignored it but-" But I've up for the past three nights 'cause I can still feel him. I can hear his breath, smell the beer clinging to his jacket, smell the cold, dead earth as Donna is finally laid to rest. The words die on my lips like petals. Like the flowers Darry laid on her casket. White lilies are hard to find in January, but she was worth every damn cent.