Work Text:
"Steve-his hatred for his father coming out in his soft, bitter voice and the violence of his temper."
-Ponyboy Curtis (Chapter Three, Page 54)
Six years back:
"Steve," my father said as I walked in.
I looked at him. He was really angry and coming towards me with one hand up. That meant he was going to hit me. I'm tall for eleven and I know I can hit really good. Soda's brother, Darry told me so once after I took him on for a dare. But this is different. I can't hit my own Pa. I know Pa don't mean it but he gets real angry now all the time after he lost his job. It's a crappy job but he gets angry all the same. He was angry all the time before too, for having such a lousy job as a salesman. I don't know what he wants, he wants a better job so why can't he go find it? He lost the job he had so isn't that good? Besides, we aren't in that much trouble yet, Ma sells those containers too. Those Tupperware ones. Not a lot of people want 'em in the neighborhood though so they're selling pretty badly. Mrs. Curtis bought some but I think that's just to be nice.
And there it comes. He doesn't hit me often, so I guess I'm lucky because my friend, Johnny he gets beat by his own folks all the time. But it still hurts every time because he cusses me out. It's the cussing I hate.
"Where have you been, you cocky little shit?" he shouted. "I told ya eleven didn't I?"
I don't say anything. I learned the more I keep my mouth shut, he can say just that much. Today, it's a mistake. He shoved me into the corner. If it's not shouting, it's pushing. Ma must be out or she did be here trying to stop him. I hit the wall behind with a thud and my pack falls out. The cancer sticks scatter all over the floor and I nearly stoop down to pick them up but I don't. Pops is looking at them with the angriest look I'd seen on his face.
I wait for Pa to say what I know he's going to say.
"So this is what you do with those hoods?"
I keep quiet. Who did he think he was? He can't just boss me around. I live here and I'm his kid, aren't I? But he wasn't much of a father. He was only my Pa in name.
That's when he does what he always does. Swear at me. It bothered me something awful but there ain't nothing I haven't heard before between him and the other boys at school. After the cussing, he stormed off and left me there, hanging my head like a dog as I'd learnt to. Sometimes, I did look up and he did go all over again.
"Ungrateful, disrespectful, good-for-nothing boy," he could go on forever, I bet.
I sat outside on the porch ,smoking. I hated myself for getting so addicted. I didn't think I would get just so damn addicted to them. But I did. I spat the phlegm that came out before standing up. When I walked back in, Pa yelled at me again.
"Cocky little shit!"
I winced before I could help myself.
Now:
I faced the four Socs with a grin. Just what I needed after the verbal rumble with old McLowe. "Well, grease, what are you smiling about?" one of them growled before throwing a punch. I didn't manage to duck in time.
Crack!
I lay flat on my back. I drew a sharp intake of breathe. Fuck ,I didn't see that coming.
"You know, greasers, they're all dumb from that oil in their hand," they laughed meanly, eager to get it going.
"It's called stupidity from absorption of toxic material," one smarted off and I tensed from where I was on the ground. I might be tuff but I ain't dumb. Even I wasn't sure if I could take on all four with nothing.
I just ain't superman. The white-hot anger that was slowly building up in my stomach tensed me all over. My fingers trailed the hard gravel beside me, anticipating the moment when (and there would be, I was sure) it did be coated with rich kid blood. Maybe a hard knock on the nose...I felt the familiar feel of a glass bottle and I grabbed it. "Dumb, am I?" I snarled, getting up. I busted off the end of the bottle with a swift smash against the wall behind me. They all went quiet. Then one of them cussed. They started closing in on me but I showed 'em I was serious. That one guy who got too close, he got an ugly cut a I swiped at him.
"You cocky little shit," he swore. I stiffened before turning to the rest.
"Go fuck yourself," I screamed.
"Fuck you," I howled, kicking the one nearest to me in the chest. He was too surprised to brace himself for it and went down. The other two I would have cut to ribbons but halfway I realized that was just dumb. I wasn't aiming for murder. I ran but not before kicking one in the head. They deserved it for jumping me.
"Cocky little shit, cocky little shit," I didn't realize I was muttering it until I reached near the Curtis place. With shaking hands, I pulled out a stick and smoked to calm myself down. I still hated that I needed to smoke just as much or maybe even more than I did then. I stamped down on it after finishing it in five quick drags. My fingers hurt like mad,stinging and as I looked down at them, I saw why. A jagged piece of glass protruded out of my skin. I pulled it out, wet blood coating the tip of it.
I swore, "Cocky little shit."