Chapter Text
APRIL/MAY 1965
“Kath? Ya know you don’t have to do this, right?”
Evie’s leaning against the shelves, in the storage closet of Kathy’s mother’s hair salon - eyeing her, dubiously, as she rifles through those containers of powdered peroxide and toning products, like she’s judging Kath right to hell.
“Um, yes?” Kathy snaps back. “I want to.”
“Why?!” Evie demands, straightening up and walking over, shaking her head. “So ya can look like everyone else?”
“Oh, shut UP!” Kathy groans, rolling her eyes and shoving developer into her canvas tote bag. “I think it’d suit me.”
“Is this about not having a boyfriend, or somethin’?” Evie’s got her arms crossed, staring her down, curiously - right into Kathy’s soul, maybe, like only best friends can.
“‘Cause I know we’re all paired off, now, but it’s not all –”
“NO!” Kathy cuts her off, exasperated and ready to fucking scream… ‘cause maybe there’s a hint of truth, in Evie’s accusations, even if that’s not quite why she wants to bleach her hair. And, yeah, maybe Kath’s a little jealous - and it’s not over boys, or sexual intercourse, exactly; maybe it’s just about doing something risky and grown-up and brave.
“I’m just saying, you could get it any day of the week,” Evie throws up her hands, puffing out a bunch of air. “If ya wanted. Without frying your hair off. Hey, ya could’ve hooked up with Mike Cannon at that fuckin’ Saint Patrick’s day party…”
“I already invited Sandy and Syl over,” Kathy shrugs, decisively, like it’s all done and dusted. “And, Mike? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”
“You can be bitter, or picky,” Evie smirks. “But not both.”
“I’m not bitter!” Kathy snaps. “Who says I want what you’re having?”
“Yeah, we know what ya think of Steve,” Evie snaps back.
“No, I just still can’t believe everyone’s DOING it,” Kathy mutters. “Especially you.”
“Aw, lay off,” Evie rolls her eyes, grinning cheekily. “Like it’s some big thing. It just happened one day. Like, you’re making out, and then it’s only a few more steps, and – well, whatever.”
“Right,” Kathy groans, screwing up her face and hefting her bag of supplies on her shoulder. “Comin’? C’mon, ya can tell me all about your carnal relations.”
“Anyone would be lucky to have carnal relations with you,” Evie stage whispers, leaning way into Kathy’s ear as they barge through the salon, making their way to the street. “Just wait.”
***
“It’s gonna be absolutely fine,” Sylvia announces, digging through the back layers of Kathy’s hair with the rat tail comb and rubbing bleach into her scalp. “Stop freaking her out!”
“I’m tellin’ you, Kathy,” Evie groans, wincing, like she can’t even look. “This isn’t gonna end…”
“Shut UP!” Kathy hisses, heart pounding, anxiously snatching the comb and picking over her bangs, peroxide concoction simmering on her head. She’s not worried, yet, except about patches in the back, because Kathy knows about hair. She’s seen a million bleachings, growing up in her family’s salon – just never attempted one herself, let alone on herself. And Evie and Syl aren’t particularly helping.
“Just check the back,” Kathy instructs Sylvia. “Turn over the layers, and make sure it’s all saturated.”
“Give it to me,” Sandy volunteers, stepping up from the edge of the bathtub where she's been sitting, perched. “I’ll check ya.”
And Kathy does relax, a little bit, feeling Sandra Davis sift through her crunchy, chemical-coated hair all cool and carefully, as Evie and Sylvia gravitate back to that little bottle of whiskey Syl brought along.
“You should have a little shot, Kath,” Evie grins, waving it in her direction. “To settle your fuckin’ nerves. Besides, you’re gonna look like a new woman.”
“I ought to keep my wits about me,” Kathy counters back, gesturing to her marinating head, and eyeing Evie, who knows she can’t stand drinking straight liquor.
“It’s ONE shot,” Evie rolls her eyes. “I’ll get ya a coke, too. I just want to smoke, first. Syl? Do we have time for a smoke before she rinses out?”
“I’ll rinse myself out, thanks. In the shower. Ass naked, so I don’t need –”
“Excellent,” Sylvia smirks, grabbing her pack of cigarettes from her big leather bag. “Be right back.”
And Kathy settles down uneasily, just letting Sandy comb through her hair.
“You’re good,” Sandy nods, dropping the comb. “And it’s working.
“Thanks,” Kathy nods, trying to steady herself and not panic about the irritation, itching along her hairline. “Good.”
“Hey,” Sandy grins over at her, gently. “It’s okay, ya know? I don’t really like to drink, either.”
“Aw, beers okay,” Kathy groans. “But – yeah, I don’t know when Evie started gettin’ boozed up, like this. Maybe it was way back before Christmas. You know, when she got with Steve.”
“Ya don’t like him, do ya?” Sandy offers it up, like a neutral commentary, looking at Kathy curiously out of the corner of her eye.
“Steve Randall?” Kath exclaims. “No, I don’t fuckin’ like him. Evie knows. How ‘bout you, though, huh? What do you think of Sylvia and Dally?”
“Mercy,” Sandy murmurs. “I don’t know.”
“Seriously?” Kathy asks, dubiously, toweling off her neck.
“It scared me, at first,” Sandy nods, quietly. “‘Course. But I never saw her dig anyone like this. Like they’ve got somethin’ in common.”
“That’s not insulting, or anything,” Kathy snarks, raising her eyebrows, ‘cause sure, Sylvia Greene’s always stalked around in her punky boots and little dark dresses, with that snarky mouth and obvious drinking problem – but she’s no crook. God knows, even Evie’s got a worse rap sheet, technically.
“Just ‘cause you don’t understand it…” Sandy mutters, shrugging and shutting her mouth.
“Understand what?” Kathy demands. “That he’s probably gonna break her heart?”
“I wish he wouldn’t,” Sandy concedes. “But they do it to each other.”
“They’re back together now, right?”
“Since yesterday.”
“Oh, great.”
“C’mon, Kath,” Sandy groans. “He’s, like, obsessed with her. Just won’t admit it.”
“And this is what I’m supposed to be jealous of?” Kathy spits, rolling her eyes bitterly. “Some awful on-and-off thing, where someone makes off with my virginity at Buck Merril’s, and then we fight each other for all eternity? In public?”
“Okay, no,” Sandy mumbles, choking out a laugh. “I think…it’s about findin’ someone who you keep going back to. ‘Cause they’re the only one, ya know, who makes any sense.”
“Please, you’ve got the Soda fountain dreamboat,” Kathy rolls her eyes again. “Least THAT makes sense.”
“It ought to,” Sandy nods. “But hey, let me check your color. Turn around.”
“What d’ya mean?” Kathy asks, curiously, turning around to face the mirror and letting Sandy tousle through the back of her hair, again. “With Soda, do things not…make sense?”
“They’re great,” Sandy grins, brightly, dropping the comb on the counter with a clatter. “And you’ll get your due, Kath. But ya better go rinse this out, right now. It’s blonde, all right.”
***
“God, Kathy,” Sandy whispers, standing behind her again – but this time, it’s the mirror in the school bathrooms, and Kathy’s staring at her new reflection and fluffing out her platinum waves. “It looks so tuff.”
“Ya know there’s a rumor that ya did it to impress Two-Bit Mathews?” Evie snarks, standing next to her, focusing on reapplying her lipstick.
“Why the hell would anyone think THAT?” Kathy demands, crossing her arms. “‘Just ‘cause he’s friends with YOUR boyfriends? Like it has to be this whole incestuous thing?”
“God, cool it, Kath,” Evie blinks. “I was only kidding. ‘Cause he’s got a thing for blondes, or whatever. It’s dumb.”
“But people seriously think that?”
“It’s a stupid rumor,” Sylvia rolls her eyes, straightening up from her slump against the tile wall. “Who cares? Ya know, Tammy and company are still spreadin’ it around that I’m pregnant, even though I’m literally on my period.”
“Well, why were you hurling behind the dumpsters before school last week?”
“I was fuckin’ hungover,” Sylvia snaps. “Christ on a bike. Can’t get away with anything around here.”
“Nevermind,” Evie groans. “Can we please talk about this weekend? And my birthday fuckin’ festivities, instead of getting all bent out of shape?”
“I thought Steve had ya locked down on Saturday night?” Sandy asks. “And ya said we’d just celebrate at Bobby’s party on Friday, ‘cause sweet sixteens are for Super Soc’s?”
“Yeah, well, I still wanna get loaded before we go,” Evie scoffs. “Ya’ll could come over.”
“Wait, yeah!” Sylvia nods, eyes lighting up. “A birthday pregame. Nothing Soc-y. You can do sixteen shots, or something.”
“Like a sick sixteen,” Sandy grins. “Can we make you a cake, though, too?”
“Too far,” Evie shakes her head. “Booze only.”
“I could do a rum cake,” Kathy suggests, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, this one’s big.”
And Kathy knows it’s a big deal to Evie, too – that she’s already got her parents’ permission to skip school on her real birthday, next Tuesday, to go get her unrestricted driver’s license, and the rest is just noise.
Evie’s the baby, the last of them to turn sixteen – but she’s the only one with a car; the first to learn to drive, first to date and have sex and start hanging out at those true high-school haunts, like the Dingo. Always running into things, headfirst and unafraid – while Kathy’s been sixteen for two entire months now, and she’s still a virgin with road anxiety and a bad case of jealousy, over the idea of having a boyfriend.
Still, she doesn't know why her brain keeps floating back to the subject of one Two-Bit Mathews, while she’s zoning out in Algebra. Because, seriously, Kathy isn’t that jealous. Anyway, she didn’t dye her hair to impress any specific boy, at all; maybe Kath just wanted to look a little bit tuffer and more mature, and maybe a little bit more like everyone else.
Kathy already feels old, in so many ways, lingering in the responsibility she shoulders like it isn’t heavy. She doesn’t mind the babysitting, or working the counter in her mom’s salon, or any of the chores. It’s that potential that seems to live in her; the kind that teachers mentioned hopefully to her parents when she was small.
She’s afraid it grew in her mom’s eyes, when her dad passed, and then again when her big brother Manuel turned into the kind of guy who can’t talk about his work with family. And Kathy’s got a sneaking feeling that her middle-little sister Debbie’s gonna turn out too smart for her own good, but for now, it’s all on her to get into college and make it; to make something of herself someday and yank them all up solidly into the middle class. She’s got the grades, and the sheer fucking will – and maybe a boyfriend would only be a distraction, anyways.
And Kathy reminds herself, shuffling through cookbooks after school for a rum cake recipe and mentally preparing herself for Bobby Reno’s party, that she’s not actually a loser. No, Kathy’s got a whole plan to save herself from the muggings and mediocrity and rise above. And in the meantime, it’s not like she’s a total square…not like she hasn’t made out with plenty of guys at parties just like this one. And maybe that’s exactly what Kathy needs, after all – just her new gang of girlfriends, and another cheap thrill.
***
Evie’s plastered by 9 o’clock – because she really did down sixteen teeny little shots of Kathy’s extra cooking rum, out of a sewing thimble she pulled from her mom’s sewing kit, proclaiming something about ritualistic tradition and being a Catholic.
“Thought ya swore that would only equal, like, three real drinks,” Kathy mutters to Sylvia, as they finally make their way up Bobby’s street, and Kath’s trying hopelessly to stop Eves from swerving and stumbling right into the ditch.
“Yeah, she started chugging from the bottle,” Syl smirks fondly, and Kathy groans. The night is way too young for her to be getting blisters from her platform heels already – but at least she can see Bobby’s split-level house in the distance. She’s still getting used to rolling up to social events with a real crew, and they’re all dressed to kill, tonight…finally warm enough for short skirts and strappy sandals, and Kathy can smell summer humming mercifully closer in the muggy early May night air.
Evie’s in denim cut-offs – cut too high, showing off her toned, tanned legs – and she breaks into a run, dashing off-balance up Bobby’s lawn, as soon as they turn the corner.
“Stevie!” Kathy hears Eves slur merrily in the fading light, jumping into her boyfriend’s arms – and she sees Sodapop Curtis, lounging on the porch with Ken Cordon, ready to snap up Sandy, too. And Kath breathes a little sigh of relief, determined to foist the care and keeping of Evie back onto Steve tonight, if she gets any messier. ‘Cause, yeah, Kathy loves Evie Zamora half to death, like one of her own blood sisters…but she needs a break from all the babysitting, if just for one godforsaken night.
House parties do have a way of making Kathy feel exactly in her element, like a subject she can ace easily. The East Side social scene has never intimidated Kath; not even those infamous individuals that kids like her knew to tread carefully around, or avoid completely…she’s never had any trouble getting along with anyone, even the Soc’s in her classes. Not like Evie, who’s always about half a beer from inciting some small riot. Sylvia has to keep waiting for her, impatiently, on their way to the liquor counter, while Kathy says hello and shoots the shit with about a dozen friends and acquaintances. And she’s feeling alright by the time they make it to the kitchen, buzzing with energy and accepting the slurry of whiskey and coke that Syl mixed up just for her.
“Ugh,” Kathy recoils, choking down a gulp. “That’s strong as hell.”
“You might need it,” Sylvia says wryly, glancing over the bar-style counter into the crowded living room, where there’s a commotion in the corner, and Kathy’s heart drops a little bit when she hears Evie’s voice rising over the rock and roll music.
“Oh, lord,” Kathy groans – just knowing that she’s about to have to jump in there and pull Evie back, before she starts swinging. “We’ve been here, what? All of five minutes?”
“Long enough for Cheryl to piss her off, evidently,” Sylvia mutters under her breath. “Ya want help, simmering her down, before…?”
“No,” Kathy says, quickly, and she really doesn’t even know what she’s thinking, but Kathy tips her paper cup of nearly-straight whiskey directly into her mouth, gulping and letting it burn down her throat, before blurting, “I have to use the bathroom!”
And she practically makes a mad dash for Bobby’s hallway, ducking out of the kitchen in a rush and leaving Sylvia standing there, while Kathy speed-walks to the half-bath by the front door, swearing when she tries the locked door. She spins around wildly for a second, listening to hear if anyone’s jeering or yelling, but it’s just Evie’s slurred, snarky voice, and a slew of insults, and Cheryl’s friends Bonnie and Gloria sparring back at high pitch.
Suddenly, Kathy doesn’t even want to be at this party, at all. And she isn’t sure what’s come over her – except the fact that she really doesn’t want to get socked in the jaw again, yanking Evie out of another scrap – when her eyes land on the staircase, and Kathy decides in a split second to climb up and conveniently disappear.
It’s dark upstairs, and quiet, and the liquor is starting to seep into her bloodstream, and Kathy just needs a minute to catch her breath before she rides back out on the storm. She sinks against the wall, sliding down to the plush carpeted floor and ripping off her sandals, crawling over to a floor vent and pressing her ear to the ground, straining her ears to hear if it’s all gone to hell, yet. She’s pretty sure she hears a girlish shout, and the sound of glass shattering.
“Oh, fuck me,” Kathy murmurs to herself, still lying on the damn floor, listening to the vent.
“Hey, if you insist.”
She didn’t even hear the door open, but Kathy startles and jumps, turning red and scrambling to her feet as the tall, stocky boy steps out of the upstairs bathroom.
It’s Two-Bit Mathews, grinning down at her – Soda and Steve and Dally’s friend, who’s also Sylvia’s drinking buddy, and the only person Kathy’s ever heard of who’s going to have to retake Junior Year a third time. He’s looking at her, perplexed and amused, with a crooked half-smirk pasted on his face, raking back his auburn hair and chuckling.
“Whatcha doin’ down there, Kathy?”
“Listenin’ out,” she mumbles, hopelessly, gesturing to the vent and feeling flushed. “To see if Evie’s okay…”
“Alright, scout,” Two-Bit nods. He’s looking at her funny, up and down, and still grinning – not like he’s meeting her for the first time; ‘cause Kath’s kicked around with her friend’s boyfriends’ gang plenty…but sort of like he’s considering her, now, or something.
“What’s she started up?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow.
“God only knows,” Kathy sighs, exasperatedly, and she’s feeling a bit panicky, now, and also tipsy. She drops back to her knees, cupping her ear to the vent again.
“She’s a hellcat,” Two laughs, leaning against the wall, swigging beer.
“Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talkin’ about,” Kathy snaps – but her heart really isn’t in it, and besides, she’s pretty sure she hears a stampede of heels, and shrill shouting.
“KATHY?!”
The call’s ringing up from below, like now Cheryl somehow wants to kill her, and Kathy’s eyes fly open as she hears footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“Oh, hell no,” she mutters, panicking for real now.
“C’mon,” Two-Bit hisses, reaching down in a rush and grabbing her by the hand, yanking her upright and backwards, tripping into the bathroom, and he swings the door shut and locks it tight.
“Hit the lights!” Kathy pants, stumbling into the sink counter, and he reaches over her and flips the switch, flooding them in darkness.
“Shh,” Two whispers, and she can feel him standing right next to her there in the dark, and hear someone that sounds like Bonnie shouting Kathy’s name again.
And they stand there, breathing heavily in the silence, until fists start pounding on the door, and she can’t help letting out a little yelp.
Two-Bit fumbles towards her face in the dark, clapping one hand over her mouth before she can protest, and the doorknob starts jiggling aggressively.
“Kathy, is that you?!” Bonnie shouts, still banging on the door, and her heart is in her throat, breathing into Two-Bit’s palm.
“Why’s the FUCKIN’ door locked?”
“Hey, I’m in here!” Two-Bit shouts back, faux-indignant, hand locking tighter over Kathy’s lips – and it’s a good thing, ‘cause otherwise she might start cracking up. He’s pulling her closer, so that all of a sudden she’s pressed up against his hard chest, and sort of tucked under his chin. It knocks the wind out of her – and, for some reason, makes her heart leap in her chest, ‘cause Kathy really isn’t used to being manhandled by anyone with that much more muscle than old Evie.
“Two-Bit?” Bonnie demands shrilly.
“Yeah!” He yells back. “Ya need I.D. for the can, now?”
“Well, why the hell are the lights off?”
“‘Cause maybe I wanna imagine I’m a caveman out in God’s beautiful night when I take a shit, alright, Bonnie?”
Bonnie makes a disgusted noise and huffs, and Two-Bit waits until the footsteps retreat and it’s all quiet again to drop his hand from her mouth and feels around for the lights.
Kathy blinks hard when they flash on, like she’s standing in a daze, before she starts giggling – and Two-Bit’s cracking up, too, and standing right in front of her, within kissing distance, with one hand still loosely grabbing her arm. And she might really be slightly sauced, because Kathy feels sort of electrified in his firm, warm grasp, like she can feel the heat radiating off his body, so close to her own.
“Aw, lordy,” Two-Bit murmurs, still laughing, gesturing to Kathy’s chest. “Think I spilled a bunch of beer down your shirt, there. Sorry.”
And Kathy glances down at the wet spot she didn’t even feel splashed across her blouse, until now, soaking into her bra.
“Oh, it’s fine. I can wash it out. It’s just cotton.”
“Guess ya might as well take it off,” Two-Bit suggests, off-handedly, glancing back down at her with a sly glint in his cool, gray eyes and a suggestive smirk on his lips.
“Excuse me?” Kathy busts out laughing again, turning red again.
“Huh?” He changes the subject abruptly, still smiling, nodding at Kathy’s teased up, platinum-blonde head.
“Hey, did ya change your hair? ‘Cause I could’a sworn, ya used to have…”
“Yeah, I bleached it.”
“I like it.”
“I bet ya do,” Kathy snorts, blushing and remembering back to that stupid old rumor Evie told her about; about her trying to impress him, when Kathy had never thought of Two-Bit Mathews like that in her entire life – not until precisely now, anyways. And she kind of can’t believe she’s trapped in Bobby Reno’s upstairs bathroom, practically pressed up against him; that he’s looking down at her like he’s kind of drunk and hungry and intrigued.
“Nah, I mean – ya looked good before, too,” Two-Bit says, brashly, still grinning down at her appraisingly, all too close. “I always thought so.”
“Aw, thanks,” Kathy snarks, staring up and searching his eyes – trying to figure out just exactly where he’s going with this; ‘cause Kathy’s got a crazy idea that she knows this dance, and isn’t actually sure if she wants to pump the brakes.
“Kathy, can I kiss ya?”
She startles when he asks, voice rough and low and breathy, hands already creeping around her waist. And her heart is in her throat and body sort of vibrating; every intelligent thought sucked directly out of her brain, and Kathy doesn’t even bother trying to answer him verbally – she just thinks to herself, fuck it, and leans in.
He’s all over her in seconds, one hand hot against her neck and the other around her hips, and his lips are eager and quick and sloppy in a way that makes her gasp, involuntarily. And yeah, sure, maybe it’s been a hot minute since Kathy made out with anyone – but this feels utterly different than it ever did with any of those lanky, juvenile boys. Two-Bit’s sturdy arms feel like they belong to a man, who could snatch her right up in his grasp, and it’s kind of going directly to Kathy’s head and making her pleasantly woozy.
“Hey,” he whispers hoarsely, pulling away for a second, and Kathy almost protests – but he grabs her, firmly, around the middle, and hoists her up onto the sink counter like she’s weightless, so she’s almost at eye level with him, inches from his face, panting.
“Hey,” Kathy breathes.
“This okay?” He’s already running those hands all over her body, again, and in that moment, Kathy really isn’t thinking about the consequences of her actions, or the ridiculousness of the location, or whether Evie’s beating someone to a bloody pulp downstairs, because she’s busy locking her legs around Two-Bit’s body, trying to pull him back closer to herself.
“I’m not stoppin’ ya, am I?” Her affirmative whispering fades into a moan, when he kisses her again and slides one hand roughly under her soggy shirt, feeling her up. And Kathy grinds her whole body against him, pretty sure she can feel where his jeans are tightening, not entirely sure when – or if – she intends on stopping him, at all.
She’s definitely aware that her short skirt is riding up, perched on the edge of the counter, and Two-Bit’s free hand is wandering down from her hips and over her upper, inner thigh, where Kathy’s exposed, tanned skin feels white-hot, and he’s practically brushing up against her panties.
“Tell me when, honey,” Two-Bit breathes – like a warning, like she’s scared – and he grins at her again, kind of darkly and gleefully, when Kathy just moans and giggles, pivoting her hips to give him more access.
“Like I said,” she murmurs in his ear, digging her fingernails into his bicep. “I’m not stoppin’ ya.”
***
“So, wait. Ya ran all the way back here, in those fuckin’ heels?” Evie’s eyeing Kathy scornfully from her spot on the couch in the Zamora’s sunny living room, nursing a gnarly hangover and a shiner on her cheekbone, obviously still dubious about the story Kathy spun out, about fleeing out Bobby’s backdoor before the harpies could catch her.
“I took ‘em off, dummy,” Kathy rolls her eyes. “And cut through the backyards.”
“Well, damn, Kathy. You’re a good sneak.” Evie groans, rolling over heavily and blocking out the sun with one hand.
“Why the hell were they after ME, in the first place?” Kathy demands. “What’d ya say?”
“I don’t remember,” Evie moans, snappy and disgruntled. “And don’t you flip your wig on me, too. Is Steve still bent?”
“‘Cause ya passed out before he could get in your pants?” Sylvia’s raspy voice pipes up sarcastically, from the floor. “Don’t know HOW he’ll ever recover.”
“Least he carried ya in,” Sandy mumbles, drawing her knees up to her chest – and they’re all looking a bit worse for the wear, that Saturday morning, wearing Eve’s random old tee shirts and pajama shorts, and purple half-moons stamped under their bleary eyes. And Kathy has to keep stifling a wicked smile in her shirt sleeve, every time her mind drifts back to what really went down at Bobby’s house; the part that none of her friends know.
“And he’s gettin’ lucky tonight, anyway,” Sylvia rolls her eyes at Evie. “Right? Soon as we revive your corpse? Drink that coffee, already. I wanna hit the record shop. Ya can fix your sex life later.”
“How’s your sex life?” Evie spits back, mockingly. “Now that Dally’s back off your shitlist?”
“Great, thanks,” Sylvia snaps. “But I really just want that Sonics record. C’mon, I said I’d buy ya a birthday present, too.”
And Kathy sort of can’t wait for them to disperse downtown, so she can make some clever, believable excuse about chores or errands and scram on back to her own little house to get one goddamn minute to herself, to replay the events of last night in her head and blush and bite her lip in peace, because she really can’t sit in on another conversation about sex right now without thinking of Two-Bit Mathews’ fucking fingers inside of her.
She doesn’t know why she doesn’t want to tell – not anything; not even a whisper, not yet. Katherine Estivez has told Evie basically everything, from her darkest fears to her most embarrassing secrets, since they were eight years old. And keeping anything to herself, now – but especially something like this – feels blatantly, terribly wrong, like a bold-faced lie…but Kathy wants to keep it just for herself, just a minute longer. Just until she figures out exactly what the hell she’s doing.
So she keeps her lips zipped, entire body still humming with elated, titillated energy zinging around in her chest, until Sylvia drags Evie out of her own house with the temptation of Elvis on vinyl, and Sandy hops on her bike and pedals East, and Kath can finally traipse home in the almost-summer sun and sink into her own couch, mind reeling.
She’s double-extra grateful today that her Ma opens the salon early on Saturdays, dragging her littlest sister Camilla with her, and that Debbie and Theresa are avid hopscotchers who’ve been spending every weekend since the weather turned warm bumming around the corner park with Julie and the other neighborhood girls. The house is empty, and the telephone is ringing off the hook. Kathy practically leaps off the couch to answer it.
“Kathy? That you?” Two-Bit’s voice picks up, the second she utters hello – and Kath’s blushing, again, at just how quickly her heartbeat starts racing, memories of their secret rendezvous crashing over her.
“Yeah!” She squeaks, trying to temper down her tone into something cool and casual. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He sort of always sounds like he’s laughing, with that infectiously unserious voice, and Kathy can’t help beaming down to her fuckin’ toes, that he actually called her. “Wanted to see if you fancied a drive.”
“Where to?” Kathy asks, on the edge of her damn seat, biting down hard on her lip.
“Ya wanna go down to Mohawk Park? By the lake?”
“Yes!” She doesn’t particularly care if she sounds overeager. “Yeah, that’s far enough out in the boonies.”
“What?”
“Nothin,” Kathy breezes, grinning into the receiver. “Ya pickin’ me up?”
***
“Thanks for callin’ me. Polite, and all.”
Kathy’s sitting on the front bench seat of Two-Bit’s old beater of a ride, and he hasn’t even touched her yet, since they parked by the lake, but the tension between their bodies has been humming like a live wire all the way out of the city, and she’s sweating, and trying damn hard to come off all sarcastic and casual.
“Hey, I’m not a fuckin’ dog,” Two-Bit chuckles, lounging sideways in his seat to face her. “Dunno what you’ve heard, but it’s all lies!”
“Like you’re that infamous,” Kathy rolls her eyes, snorting with laughter. “And I don’t really mind, anyway.”
“Didn’t take ya for a floozy, Katherine. And not that it bothers me, either…”
“Ha-ha,” Kathy mocks. “No, I’m just not sure if I’m lookin’ for somethin’ serious, at the moment.”
“I’m never serious,” Two-Bit counters back, grinning broadly, and she feels a tiny pang of disappointment, deep in her chest – and then shakes it off, abruptly. Kathy isn’t actually completely sure what she wants, but she’s pretty sure attempting anything approaching serious with Two-Bit Mathews would be a decidedly ridiculous choice. And Kathy rationalizes, in her head, that it would be far safer and probably more fun to just behave like some randy boy and monopolize on getting lucky, herself, leaving all the dating and Evie’s heckling and the fucking obligation right out of it. After all, why shouldn’t she?
“No kidding,” Kathy agrees. “That’s perfect, actually.”
“However ya wanna play it, baby,” Two shrugs, shifting over closer to her on the bench, eyeing her up and down again and still smiling. “Long as ya let me do that thing you liked, again.”
“Can this just be, like, our little secret, though? For now?” Kathy asks, blushing hard, finally meeting his eyes…and she knows it’s sort of silly, anxiously swearing him to secrecy, while she’s throwing all caution to the wind.
“So, this IS you comin’ back for more?”
“Sure, what the hell.”
***
By the middle of May, and the last day of Sophomore year, Katherine Estivez and Two-Bit Mathews have something of an established routine – barely acknowledging each other in public, around their respective gangs, except in stolen sidelong glances…but they find each other from across the crowded room at every rip-roaring early-summer rager, flashing the eye and finding some bathroom or laundry closet or basement to stumble into and lock the door.
And it’s becoming sort of a regular thing, given all the end-of-school revelry and celebration and parents out of town on vacation, and Kathy can sense that she’s playing a dangerous little game; about to be caught any second, but it’s sort of so exhilarating to finally have something that’s just hers that she doesn’t really care to stop at all.
Kathy knows plenty of girls with famous reputations for letting greasy boys rip their clothes off in bathrooms on the house party circuit – hell, she’s quickly becoming best buddies with one of them – but she also knows that Evie would absolutely lose her mind if she knew what Kath has been up to. Surely, she’d never give it a rest if she found out who Two-Bit’s new favorite blonde is…but more importantly, she’d never forgive Kathy for not telling her, like, immediately.
But she can’t actually bring herself to stop the whole scandalous little dynamic; not at Mattie’s or Starkey’s or Joanie’s. Summer’s rolling in hot and heavy, like a bad moon on the rise, and Kathy’s ramping up her fuckin’ game, wearing progressively shorter skirts and higher heels, stealing drags off Evie’s cigarettes like the smell suddenly doesn’t bother her. And, yeah, she does sort of feel like someone’s snatched her body and replaced it with someone else’s entirely, because Kathy is slipping head-over-heels into a totally unprecedented obsession with breaking the rules – and with Two-Bit Mathews.
She’s fighting hard and failing to squash down those butterflies, launching their offensive in the pit of her stomach every time Kath thinks of him. And it’s not just the thrill of sneaking around, or the way he touches her – although, fuck, she likes that – but no; Kathy knows deep down that this is way, way worse, and she’s already in over her head.
And so, she can’t help grinning and blushing, heart soaring, the second she spies him across Elaine Donehan’s living room, giving her the eye…’cause he looks all warm and laughing in the dim light, coppery hair gleaming like a halo and eyes sparkling mischievously, like he just knows she won’t turn him down. And Kathy doesn’t.
Evie’s in the kitchen, preoccupied with helping Elaine unclog the keg, or something, and Sandy is all wrapped up in Sodapop Curtis’ arms, and Sylvia skipped the party entirely, out at Buck’s with Dally, getting railed…so Kathy slips out the side door like a ghost, flying over dry grass hand-in-hand with Two-Bit and letting him yank her down behind the Donehan’s shed.
“Hey, baby,” he whispers, and it goes right to Kathy’s head; the way she knows she ought to tell him to lay off the terms of endearment, because keeping this unserious was her big idea, in the first place. But it sounds so comfortable, and familiar, when he says it in that gruff, low voice, grabbing for her in the dark.
“Hey, Two.” When she kisses him, he tastes like smoke and cola mixed with spiced rum, and Kathy could melt into his body, already crawling over her and fiddling with her buttons – until she hears Evie’s voice ringing out unmistakably from Elaine’s back porch, calling her name, and she swears under her breath.
“Shh,” Two-Bit whispers, breathing into her neck, “She ain’t comin’ over here.”
“She could be,” Kathy hisses back, wondering when she turned into such a sneak; hiding out from her best and oldest friend behind a woodshed, with Two-Bit Mathews’ hands up her shirt. It occurs to her that maybe she should feel bad – but frankly, Kath’s having the time of her life.
“Good thing I’m quick, then, huh?” Two growls in her ear, and Kathy’s stomach flips, only thankful for that cover of darkness concealing her red face. “Gonna let me…?”
***
“Where the hell have you been?”
Evie’s standing there in the doorway between the porch and the kitchen, hand planted firmly on her hip, and Kathy’s glad she’s hovering in the shadows, hiding her guilty smirk and red cheeks, and the grass stains all down the backside of her short little dress.
“I felt like I was gonna be sick,” Kathy lies, quickly. “And there was a line for the bathroom, so I went out back.”
“Ya don’t even seem drunk,” Evie remarks, looking her up and down and narrowing her eyes. “Just…weird. Wait, did you hurl? Ya look all flushed.”
“Geez, thanks,” Kathy breezes coolly. “And no. I’m fine.”
“Huh,” Evie shrugs, grabbing her hand impatiently. “C’mon, they’ve got the Indy 500 recap on the radio.”
“Oh, wow,” Kathy drones sarcastically, trying to smooth down her hair the second Evie spins on her heel, dragging them both inside. And she’s not exactly stoked to join the mass of bodies crowded into Elaine’s living room, around that radio. She’s sort of wondering if her makeup’s all messed up, and if anyone can tell she’s just been defiled.
“Lordy, sit down, Kath,” Evie snaps. “You’re givin’ me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Yeah, I was just noticin’ all the empty seats,” Kathy bites back, gesturing around the overpacked room – full-up with kids perched on every couch and armchair, and she’s sweating like she’s stepped inside a gas oven.
“Oh, go sit on Two-Bit’s lap, why don’t ya?”
“What?” Kathy’s eyes fly open, ready to deny and defend herself until she’s blue in the face, if Evie thinks she figured something out – but she’s already focused on the radio, and the race broadcast, waving dismissively over at the loveseat under the windows.
He’s lounging there, alright, next to Sandy, who is, herself, sitting on Sodapop’s lap, one arm slung around his shoulders – like a proper couple, showing off in public. Two-Bit sort of still looks like he’s out of breath from sneaking the long way around, back to the front of Elaine’s house, and the knees of his blue jeans are faintly grass-stained.
“Yeah, get over here, blondie,” he calls, glancing at Evie with a devious glint in his eye, daring her, gesturing and slapping his knees expectantly. “We got plenty of room for ya.”
And she glares at him, shooting him the evil eye and practically hyperventilating, but he’s just grinning back at her and wiggling his eyebrows.
“Aw, go on, Kath,” Soda teases, pulling Sandy in tighter. “Make his night.”
So Kathy stalks over, snorting and rolling her eyes and trying to come off contemptuous and totally in control of her own body, sliding gingerly into Two-Bit Mathews’ lap while the radio blares.
He’s holding her too close, already – and Kathy doesn’t want to think about how easily she could fade into him, too busy scanning the room to see if anyone’s staring, or otherwise suspicious. And it occurs to Kathy that the fact that Two-Bit himself hasn’t spilled the damn beans about their saucy little arrangement is already a small miracle…but he’s sauced, now, with a shit-eating grin on his face, like he’s got her right where he wants her, right in front of everyone.
Kathy shifts uncomfortably, trying to ease her weight just, like, slightly off his crotch, but it doesn’t work, because he snakes his arms around her waist and yanks her back, and Kath almost keels over, into Soda, inches away on the cushion.
“Hey, ya know,” Soda squints one eye, smiling broadly and elbowing Two’s arm, jostling them both. “You guys look good together. Sandy, baby, don’t ya think they look good?”
“Ya sure do,” Sandy giggles, oblivious or ignoring Kath’s death glare, busy basking unashamed in the sunshine of Soda’s love, and Kathy looks at the two of them and doesn’t know if she’s more jealous or exhilarated or pissed off.
“As if,” she snarks back bitterly, rolling her eyes hard and stiffening her body, trying to ignore it when she feels Two-Bit wince.
***
Katherine Estivez is up all Friday night, after Elaine’s party – giddy and half-drunk and totally off her fucking rocker. She’s replaying the whole thing over and over, on a loop, slowing down around the scandalous parts and giggling into her pillow. But then, there’s this pit in her stomach, too, about what she said at the end of the night; and she hopes he knows that she was only keeping up their ruse when she publicly tossed off the very idea of being with Two-Bit Mathews, like it was hot garbage.
She has to admit – of course – that he’s not quite what came to mind, ever, when Kathy worried about letting a boy drive her crazy. And she never could quite imagine what a boyfriend would look like at all, but Kathy never pictured a chronically unserious practical joker with a penchant for beer and blondes – and a juvenile record. But it’s dawning on her, slowly, how it’s with Two-Bit that Kathy feels loose and relaxed and strangely comfortable…how he slows her down, and makes her laugh until her stomach aches. How it feels completely fucking right, deep down inside, actually, despite all her rational brain’s arguments to the contrary. And she hopes like hell that he knows she was only joking, last night, now that Kathy’s pretty sure she knows what she wants.
And she wakes up feeling sort of like she can’t breathe, chest tight and anxiety rising in her throat like acid reflux. Kath spends the morning hovering around the telephone on the wall in the hall, wiping down perfectly clean kitchen counters and picking dirt out of the carpet. Her eleven-year-old sister Theresa is eyeing her from her spot on the couch with the funny pages, and when the phone rings shrilly, they both jump – and Kathy snatches the receiver off the wall and snakes it down the hall before she can even hear his voice.
“Mornin’, Kath.” He doesn’t sound angry, or any less amused than usual, when she picks up the line, and Kathy breathes a sigh of relief. “Ya should come over.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, my Ma’s at work.”
“Yeah?” Kathy bites down on her lip, heart banging around in her chest while her mind leaps straight to something filthy.
“Yeah,” he drawls. “And Katie’s out.”
“Who’s Katie?”
“Oh, my other secret girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Kathy murmurs under her breath.
“Yeah, neither’s Katie,” Two-Bit laughs, not skipping a beat. “She’s my kid sister. But, hey, what should I be callin’ ya?”
“Nothin’, remember?” Kathy hisses, cradling the phone in her hand. “We’re undercover. And Katherine’s just fine.”
“Should I make ya call me Keith, then, so we’re even?”
She startles, hearing Two-Bit’s real name – ‘cause even though she knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was Keith, she’s never known him as anything but Two-Bit, and Kathy realizes that she’s dying to know all about this wisecracking, handsome boy who’s been all over her body, but strictly banned from her life.
“How’d ya end up with the nickname, anyway?” Kathy asks.
“By bein’ a smartass. But, hey, I haven’t said a word. About our thing, just so ya know.”
“Thanks, Keith.” Kathy says, stifling a smile into the phone. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
***
Inside the Mathews’ empty little bungalow-style house, Kathy wants to paw through all the photographs and start opening drawers; asking him everything. She could sit there on his worn-in couch, rapt, for days, listening to the whole David Copperfield-style biography of Two-Bit – Keith – Mathews, Kathy figures…but standing there in the hall, she realizes she’s never been alone with him and not jumped headfirst into hooking up. Her heart is pounding, and she doesn’t know what the hell to do with her hands, except grab him.
And she really doesn’t have to ask twice before he’s nudging her down the hallway, hands all over her body – tripping over each other, clumsy and rushed, all the way to his bedroom. She wonders, heart in her throat, if it’s going to happen – because Kathy never imagined losing her virginity without a full debrief with one Evie Zamora, before and after.
Kathy’s flat on her back in Two-Bit’s bed, eyes closed, moving under him, letting him unbutton her blouse…and she knows he wants her. Kath’s just about given up lying to herself, about how she wants it, too. And she feels powerful and small and bold and terrified all at once, fumbling blindly and kissing him, hard.
“Do ya have somethin’...?” Kathy whispers, hot against his neck, hoping her voice sounds more seductive than strangled.
“Fuck,” Two groans, swearing again. “No.”
“Oh,” Kathy whispers, pretty sure he can hear the disappointment, clear as day. “Then I can’t.”
“Ya sure?” He pulls back, eyebrow cocked, grinning slyly.
“No way in hell,” Kathy giggles back, shaking her head firmly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, if ya don’t want to,” Two-Bit murmurs, glancing down – speaking softly, and looking almost-serious for once in the time that she’s known him, like this.
“No, I do,” Kathy blushes. “Just not tryin’ to end up like Jackie.”
“Swear, I’m like, an expert at that old pull-out maneuver.”
“Yeah, somehow I doubt that.”
“You’re not gonna let me prove it, are ya?”
“Not today.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” Two-Bit smiles down at her, rolling over and propping up his head on his hand. He’s staring at her, all funny, and Kathy has to drop her gaze to the bedsheets, like his storm-gray eyes are boring holes through her body.
“‘Cause ya know I actually like ya, right, Kath?”
She has to look up, then, still blushing hard and sort of vibrating a little bit.
“Yeah, I assumed,” Kathy snarks, rolling her eyes all the way around and brushing him off.
“I mean, I don’t think of ya as just some broad I hook up with at ragers. Ya dig?”
“Yeah,” Kathy whispers, heartbeat picking up again, voice all high-pitched. “I dig.”
“So, when are we gonna quit sneakin’ around? Unless ya just don’t wanna be seen with me. Which, hey, wouldn’t be the first –”
“No!” Kathy yelps, rolling over to face him directly. “That’s not it, Two. I promise ya.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m just busy,” Kathy groans, desperately trying to spin out her excuses, which are all falling flat there in the morning sun, streaming through the window onto Two-Bit’s sheets. “I’ve got a lot of family responsibilities. Plus, I help my Ma at her salon, and then school…”
“Kathy, it’s summer.” He’s staring at her with a grin, but it feels like a challenge – and Kathy knows he’s right. “And I have a life, ya know, too. Not askin’ to lock ya up in my basement.”
“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Kathy goes on, carefully, but she can tell her whole thesis is crumbling. “If I can give ya what you want, ya know…”
“I just wanna be around ya,” he says, simply, shrugging with that smile she could fucking melt into, lips-first. “And you’re scared.”
“Yeah, no shit!” she squeaks.
“Why?”
“Because I think I might be a crazy person,” Kathy whispers, eyes downcast, heat radiating right off her face.
“What?”
He’s sort of cracking up, and she really resents his infectious laughter, right then – how she can’t help catching the giggles, every damn time Two-Bit starts wheezing like that.
“I mean, I said nothing serious,” Kathy admits, giggling in spite of herself. “But I'm afraid that I kind of really like you, too, Keith. And that if we do this, I might need it to be…well, not NOT-serious.”
And he’s still looking at her, with squinty eyes; broad smirk and brow furrowed, like he’s trying to parse her proposition.
“And if ya don’t want anything like that, then we can still fool around,” Kathy adds, quickly; hopefully, half-scared to death that she’s fucked it all up and scared him right off, forever. But Two-Bit’s laughing at her again, under his breath, rising to a full-blown chuckle.
“Those your two best offers?”
“Yeah,” she retorts, giggling self-consciously again. “Guess so. Take it or leave it?”
“Kath,” He says, through the laughter, “If ya wanted, I’d buy ya a fuckin’ ring tomorrow.”