Chapter Text
Sodapop isn’t like anyone Steve knows. Steve lives in a trailer with his father who hates him and also a dog who probably hates him even more. His mother, who was golden and beautiful and had the kindest smile Steve had ever seen, left them without so much as a goodbye. He had trusted her completely, entirely, when she told him he was her sun and her moon and her stars.
“What about daddy?” He’d asked. “Is he your sun and your moon and your stars?”
His mother stopped smiling for a moment, all the light suddenly dimming from her eyes. Steve didn’t want her to stop smiling. But she perked up a second later, almost as if nothing had happened. “Daddy doesn’t want to be anything to me,” she said, a little too quickly, but Steve was too young to understand that. “But I have you, so it’s okay.”
She kissed him on his forehead, and Steve forgot that she had ever been sad.
Now, Steve doesn’t trust anyone quite so easily. She lied to him, and left him, and now something is broken. Maybe it’s something that can’t be fixed.
Steve’s father tells him it’s his fault she left. That Steve drove her away, being so needy, so greedy and naive. And Steve doesn’t trust, but he believes. He’s barely six years old, and so naive may be an appropriate word to describe him.
When Sodapop smiles, Steve stops breathing. Sodapop is golden and beautiful and has the kindest smile Steve has ever seen. When Steve sees Sodapop, he sees his mother, and he hates it. He hates Sodapop for being happy. After his mother left, Steve hasn’t been happy. He was already growing up on the wrong side of town. On the East side, nobody smiles. Not Steve’s father and not the lady next door and not the bus driver and not the cashier at the corner store and definitely not Steve. Because if you’re living on the East side, you already got all the rough breaks. If you’re living on the East side, there isn’t a single thing for you to smile about.
But Sodapop lives on the Eastside. Sodapop smiles every day.
“You smile a lot,” Steve tells him one day. “How come?”
Soda doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Because the sun is shining,” he says.
“What about when it rains?”
“When it rains,” Sodapop says, “The flowers are growing, and the world’s just so pretty.”
Steve doesn’t think the world is pretty. The world is disgusting, and ugly, and full of hatred and violence and lies. But Steve doesn’t tell Soda that, because Soda is smiling, and Steve doesn’t think he could stand it if he stopped. Steve feels drawn to this strange, happy, golden boy who smiles all the time because he thinks the world is pretty . Steve thinks that’s awfully sappy, but he makes friends with Soda anyway. Everyone else in their class is scared of Steve, but not Sodapop.
At first Steve thought he was just stupid, but Sodapop isn’t stupid. He’s observant, and he’s sensitive, and he notices every little thing about everyone around him. Soda gets people, he can read them like a book. Steve has never gotten people. He barely gets himself. Maybe Soda can tell, and that’s why he isn’t scared of him. The thought makes Steve self conscious.
Steve meets Sodapop’s family in first grade. Soda has a mom and a dad and two brothers, and all four of them live in a cramped little house on a dirty street in a crummy neighborhood. But when Steve sees Soda’s house, it glows . The houses surrounding it are shabby and dull, but whoever tends Soda’s garden is excellently skilled. The house’s paint is done perfectly, without any chipping or peeling or smudging. Inside, the couch is patched with pretty little pieces of fabric and the floor is well swept. There’s an amazing smell coming from the kitchen and when Steve gets there he sees a woman with blonde hair and red lipstick who smiles at him just like Sodapop does.
“Well then,” she says, wiping her hands off in her apron, “Who do we have here?”
Steve feels like he’s going to cry when he sees her at first. So instead of looking at her, he focuses on the mismatched chairs, each special in their own unique way. The clock on the wall has small birds hand painted all over it. It’s an hour fast.
“Mommy, this is Steve,” Soda says, bounding into the kitchen. Mrs. Curtis smiles at him again, softer this time. She must think Steve is shy.
“I’m not shy,” he blurts, and then feels stupid. He isn’t shy, he just doesn’t like talking when he doesn’t need to. And this woman makes his throat close up and that makes him feel kind of vulnerable. Steve doesn’t like feeling vulnerable because at seven years old he’s relatively convinced that nothing can ever hurt him again. He’s wrong, but that doesn’t matter. He’s still young, he’s still naive. He has time to be wrong.
“I didn’t say you were, sweetheart,” says Sodapop’s mother. She’s confused, but she’s not judging him. Steve appreciates that. Most people judge him.
“You were thinking it,” Steve says insistently. “I just don’t like talking so much.”
“That’s quite alright, dear.” Soda’s mother moves back to the stove and continues to stir whatever she’s cooking. “Sodapop and his father do enough talking for everyone in this house.”
Steve’s supposed to laugh at that, but he doesn’t. Grown-ups think they’re real funny. Soda laughs, though, so it’s alright.
Soda’s youngest brother, Ponyboy, is only four years old. Steve hasn’t been around many little kids in his life. Ponyboy toddles into the room. He isn’t smiling like Sodapop and his mother do, but he seems to be deep in thought. Steve always thought toddlers were supposed to be dumb, but Ponyboy seems to be actually fairly inteligent. He shows his mother a picture that he drew. It looks like a collection of strange squiggles to Steve. So, maybe not that intelligent. Mrs. Curtis tells Ponyboy he did a good job, which Steve wasn’t at all expecting. He almost tells them both that the picture doesn’t look like anything, but he keeps his trap shut. He doesn’t want to be scolded. Steve usually doesn’t care much if people like him or not, but this woman, this family , makes him want to be liked.
Darry is Sodapop’s oldest brother. He’s ten years old, and very serious. But he’s not unhappy. He greets Steve with a curt hello and then goes upstairs to study. Mrs. Curtis says Darry’s school work is very important to him, and expresses her concerns on how he is only ten years old, he shouldn’t worry so much at such a young age.
“But he likes schoolwork,” Soda says. Steve and Soda just started getting homework. Soda was excited, he wanted to be like his older brother. Steve was curious to see what this homework thing was all about. Turns out, it’s not very exciting.
Mrs. Curtis sighed. “I suppose as long as he’s enjoying himself…”
Later, Sodapop and Ponyboy convince Darry to come out of his room. He sets down the book he was reading and agrees to play football with them. By the time they’re finished playing, Ponyboy is crying because he scraped his knee, Sodapop is trying to soothe him, and Darry is rolling his eyes. Steve is standing on the sidelines, not sure where his place is.
“This happens every single time we play football,” Darry says, exasperated. “And then I always get in trouble. Mom and dad say I have to be more careful, Ponyboy’s little. But if he’s so little, he shouldn’t be playing with us.”
The way Darry talks about Ponyboy reminds Steve of how his father talks about him. Like he’s a burden. Except only a few minutes ago Darry had been congratulating the kid for making his first touchdown. Families seem complicated. Steve is almost glad he doesn’t have one. Almost.
Just as Ponyboy has begun to calm down, Darry’s face lights up at something behind Steve. “Daddy!” He says.
Steve turns to find a man who looks not a day older than twenty coming through the door and into the backyard. Soda and Ponyboy both leap up from where they were sitting, Ponyboy having forgotten all about his injuries. Steve stands to the side, again not sure where he’s supposed to be. There are so many feelings happening all at once and Steve doesn’t get it.
Mr. Curtis greets Steve with enthusiasm, explaining that he just came home from work. When Steve’s dad comes home from work, he is angry and tired and usually the first thing he does is grab the nearest beer in sight. But Mr. Curtis is smiling just like Sodapop and his mom do, and Darry and Ponyboy, too, Steve can now see. He sees this perfect, happy little family and he wants to puke. He wants to cry. He excuses himself, thanking Mrs. Curtis for letting him stay so long.
“You aren’t going to stay for dinner?” She asks.
“Stay, Steve,” says Mr. Curtis. “You look like you could use a good bowl of soup.”
Steve flounders for a response. “I can’t,” he says, lying right to their perfect, picturesque faces. “My dad wants me home by six.” Steve feels like the scum of the Earth. He feels filled up with his useless lies, and lies hold nothing behind them, so really he is empty.
If you were to ask Steve how he and Sodapop became best friends, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He doesn’t know how it happened. There are so many better, kinder, funnier people in the world who Steve is sure Soda would have a much better time being friends with. But he doesn’t say anything because even after all the shit he’s put Sodapop through his friend still hasn’t budged an inch. It makes Steve feel pretty lucky, and also pretty undeserving.
When Sodapop kisses him, it makes him feel even worse.
They’re in eighth grade, and it’s a school dance, and Two-Bit Matthews spiked the punch. Two-Bit Matthews is part of their sort-of-gang thing they have going on. It’s just a collection of a few boys who stick together. Two-Bit Matthews likes to have fun, and he doesn’t mind getting in trouble for it. Soda and Steve are clued into his plan, but they take some punch, anyway. It’s a bad idea.
They’re outside for some reason, laughing about a joke Steve doesn’t even remember the beginning of. He doesn’t realize at first when Soda starts kissing him, but he figures it out pretty quick. He kisses back, hard and fast, and there’s this rhythm to it, this buzz in the air and on Steve’s fingertips and Soda’s lips. He bites down on Soda’s bottom lip and the boy moans, deep and throaty and Steve’s never felt like this before. It’s not his first kiss, but it’s definitely his first good one.
“Steve,” Soda murmurs, pulling away, and Steve feels suddenly like he’s lost his source of life. Soda grins. “We’re both,” he says, starting to laugh, “We’re both boys .” He seems to think this is hilarious, rolling on the ground, laughing like the Joker. Steve wonders if Soda had more punch than he thought.
“Yeah,” Steve says, not getting the joke. He ponders it for a moment. Steve’s never heard of a boy kissing another boy. He’s only ever heard of a man and a woman together, it’s always been his wife, her husband, but never her wife, or his husband. Steve thinks about it a second more, but then Soda is kissing him again and at that point thinking seems like a pretty dumb idea.