Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When she first saw them, she was sitting on the bleachers sucking on a lollipop after school, waiting for her mother to come by in the car and pick her up. She’d seen boys like them, dressed in raggedy hand-me-downs, hair long and slick and shiny. They smelled of smoke and sometimes liquor, and when she was around them she tasted gasoline in her throat. Ann said she didn’t care for them, and her mother said to stay away from them, that they were hoods. To her, they were wild animals, you knew not to walk towards them, but you couldn’t step away. They were curious and feral.

There were two, one dressed in jeans and a clean white shirt tucked in and a dirty, ripped vest over it. He was obviously handsome, the kind of handsome Ann would have gawked at, but his humble enthusiasm, obvious even from afar, was unappealing to her. He leaned against a tree and spoke with his mouth and his hands, too, and his eyes were wide and he was smiling. He spoke to a boy who had his back turned to her. He had darker hair and sideburns and a light beard. He wore sneakers and tight jeans and an oversized plaid shirt that fell over his butt and she had to stop herself from staring, and shifted her eyes towards her own reflection on her polished Mary Janes and bit down on her lollipop, thinking about where her mom was as she listened to the candy CRACK! under her teeth.

She couldn’t help herself. She was looking back at the peculiar boy. He had one hand halfway inside his pant pockets, and the other one was obscured by a low-hanging tree branch but the smoke that came in little puffs from where she couldn’t see assured her he was smoking. The gasoline taste was on her tongue. His books were neatly placed on the grass beside his ankle.

She wish she could bring Ann back and sit beside her, or she wished she would’ve accepted Ann’s offer for her father to take her home. She was being polite to decline. She wishes she wasn’t so polite around adults.

She wishes it more when the boy against the tree stands straight and says a few words, and the second boy turns around. When he does this, his shirt crinkles a little, and sunlight catches on the blade of a knife. She feels like she’s choking on asphalt when they begin strutting towards her cooly, and the second boy lifts his chin and opens his mouth and a throng of grey-white smoke obscures his face for a dreadful moment and her eyes are wide and he cheeks are flushed and she puts her hands neatly on her dress, either to keep the skirts down or to stop her knees from quivering.

They stop in front of her, she can’t not look away. They really are like wild animals, observant before attacking, with no sense of personal space.

The handsome one smirks. “What’s a pretty Socy girl like you sittin’ ‘round here for?”

She bites her tongue and it doesn’t hurt but she tastes the blood.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy.” He sit’s next to her, one leg inside the bleachers. He puts one foot down on the bleacher, so he’s got his elbow on his knees. A laugh purrs in his throat.

“I’m waiting.”

“Waitin’ for who?” Says the boy beside her. His persistence makes her neck hot. He really is handsome, too bad he’s a hoodlum. “Whoever it is, they shoulda come ‘round by now, dontya think? Who’d leave a girl like you here, huh?”

“I’m waiting for my mother.” She looks away from the boy at the other one, who continues to let smoke trail out from his lips. His eyes look at her. She lifts her chin and takes a deep breath that tastes dry and like fire. Her dress is tight on her chest. “And I’ll have you know, she will hurt you two bad if you do something to me, so I suggest you two stay out of trouble and leave me alone”

She takes the lollipop stick out of her mouth, and flicks it away. It falls on the grass. She regrets it, she’d never litter. But she isn’t thinking straight, with the smoke and the boys and the blood that tastes like salt and that rushes through her body so warm and fast it makes her shake a little.

“Pardon?” Says the other boy, and his eyes glow behind another thick cloud. “Is that… A threat?” And they both laugh coldly.

“What?”

“Socy girls like you, they ain’t usually this firey. It’s tough.”

She hopes that means they’ll leave her alone. She thinks that her façade is holding up, so she continues. “Stop calling me Socy.”

“Oh, ho ho.” Snickers the one next to her, and she flashes him a look that he smirks at, but stops his laughing.

The other isn’t as easy to shut up, nor is he as humorous. “Girly, don’t ya ever think that maybe you just ain’t likeable,” The boy beside her mutters something, probably a cussword, but her blood is rushing “Maybe, an’ this is just hypothetical,” she never would’ve thought he had that word in his slurred vocabulary “Maybe you’re ma just left ya to rot here.” His lips curl cruely.

“Oh, go to hell!” She says, and her throat is dry and the boy beside her tenses and the other one’s smile evaporates and he puts both his hands to his sides like he’s thinking of jumping her, but her adrenaline keeps her at it and she spits. “Is that what happened to you? Did your mother abandon you? Maybe that’s why you’re so mean!”

And in a swift and blurry movement he has his switchblade out and he’s leaning forward and he’s tossed his cigarette over his shoulder and a little patch of grass besides her lollipop stick catches minimal fire that burns out immediately and the boy beside her jumps up and says “Ben” and the one with the knife, Ben, hisses “Shut your damn trap, Chris.”

There’s the familiar impatient honking of a car that scares her so badly she jumps to her feet, and the she feels the cold blade on her elbow and her skin brushes Ben’s and she’s going to run but he feels his skin again. He grips his arm around her arm, holding her back, and she looks at him and he’s taller than her. His hand is ashy and warm and so is his breath and for the first time she thinks he’s an animal but a warm-blooded animal, like her. Her heart keeps beating and panic surges when her mom honks again and yells out her name.

“Watch it, girl.”

He lets her go and she runs, kicking up dirt that ruins her shoes and the hem of her dress that she bets they can look up at since she’s not wearing stocking or anything underneath and she opens the backdoor and sits down quickly. She locks the door and pants and stares out the window at the two boys, who look at her. Chris hands Ben something, and the flash of fire identifies it as another cigarette.

“Everything okay, darling?”

“Yeah.” She musters, her throat tight from running. “I’m tired, let’s go home.”

–

At home, she locks herself in the bathroom and sits on the toilet seat in the dark. She sits with her eyes closed when her sight adjusts to the dark and she forces herself to breathe slow. When she’s calm she stands in front of the mirror and turns the lights on. She unties her hair and lets it fall over her shoulders. She leans over the sink and turns on the water, holding it in cupped hands that she pulls to her face. She washes off the makeup, seeing the water turn black with mascara and pink with lipstick. When she’s drying off her face, she sees blood dripping from her elbow, and suddenly she feels pain from the small cut the knife made on her elbow. She washes it off and holds a washcloth to it. She washes a small bloodstain off of the fabric afterwards.

She strips, her dress falling around her ankles and soiled Mary Janes. She unbuckles those, and then takes off the bedraggled socks her mother bought for her not too long ago. She showers off the smell of smoke, and hopes it also washes off her disgust, but that stays imprinted on the skin where Ben held her, and where his words and breath touched her, below the ear.

After drying and dressing, she pulls a chair up to the table where the telephone sits, and she calls up Ann, who answers immediately.

“Hello?” Asks Ann.

“Ann, thank god.” She says.

“Hey Leslie, are you alright?”

“I am now. Today these boys talked to me… Greasers.” She doesn’t like using that word, it feels wrong on her tongue, but it’s the only way she can refer to them in a way Ann can understand over the phone.

“Were they cute?” Says Ann eagerly. Leslie winces, then clicks her tongue.

“I guess… But one of them cut me, with a real knife.”

Leslie could hear Ann’s smile turn into a scowl. “Not cute. You want me to beat them up?”

“Yeah, sure, if you can.”

“Of course I can! And I will. Just point them out tomorrow and I’ll hit them so hard in the head with a pipe their tiny brains will just slip out of their ears. I’ll be the most popular for sure. The Girl Who Beat a Greaser.”

Leslie smiles and stares at the wall, twirling the telephone cord around her finger, eyes tired. Her mom calls her to dinner.

"Bye, Ann, I gotta go. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll beat them up, I promise.”

Leslie exhales fast instead of laughing, and hangs up.

Chapter Text

The next day Leslie wakes up on her side, her fingers wrapped over her elbow. It stings but she does her best to ignore it while she dresses. She brushes her hair while singing, but keeps it down. Today is a nice day to wear it long. She puts on white stockings and a light blue dress that makes her eyes look wide like oceans and she doesn’t need to put on eye makeup. She does put on the reddest lipstick her mother owns, because her own are not bright enough. It makes her look ruthless, especially when she smiles and squints. She does this many times in the mirror. Her eyes and mouth distract people from the ugly purple bruise that has formed around the cut.
Her mother doesn’t seem to notice it when they eat breakfast. Her mother, goes on about the stresses of government and how she thinks that Leslie shouldn’t work in it.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a wife and a mother.” She says. She says it often, it makes Leslie sick. She’s learned not to argue when she does, and instead swallows down some wafers and cream. She knows that no matter what her mom says, she’s going to be the first female president.

After brushing her teeth, careful not to ruin her makeup, which she does and has to redo, she sits on a white wicker chair on the front lawn and listens to the birds and looks at the trees and breathes in long and deep and smiles. When a car pulls up on the driveway, and she spots Ann, she waves and struts forward. Ann’s mom compliments her appearance, and Ann looks at her from the passenger seat and nods. The three of them chatter for a while, and then when it goes silent, Ann’s mom turns up the radio, and Leslie taps her fingernails against her knee to the beat.

They say good-bye to Ann’s mom as she drives away, and they walk together, finally speaking about something that matters.

“Who are you dressing to impress?” Giggles Ann. Her countenance hardens in false seriousness. “Are you falling for Mark again?”

“Ew, gross, no. It’s to distract you from my cut.”

“Well, it worked. Now show.”

And they both pause in the middle of the hall, and Leslie lifts her elbow so Ann can see. “Ooh,” she says, “That’s a nasty cut.” And she lifts Leslie’s arm and prods at it gently. Ann is good with injuries and sicknesses. She should study medicine. Ann said she’d consider it.

Jean-Ralphio notices the two girls, wringing a thin arm around Leslie’s shoulder. He notices the cut on her arm.

“What happened there?” He sings into her ear, and she pushes him off.

“Tree branch snagged and scratched me while walking home.” She lies. She didn’t want to be the cause of another turf war.

“Well, that looks gross,” He begins to leave, “You should’ve put on a sweater!” And then he’s leaning against some lockers talking to some unknowing girls.

“I think it might be gone in two weeks.” Ann’s voice brings her back like usual. “It’s not that deep, but it is long and on a place you need to move a lot. Clean it and apply pressure, I guess, but not too much. And don’t pick your scabs!” Ann says the last part as a knowing friend instead of a genius nurse.

The bell rings, and they mutter their rushed good-byes as the scatter around to their classes like startled ants.

-

Leslie sits on the bleachers at lunch, surrounded by her girlfriends. They’re watching the boys trying to impress them by tossing around a ball and yelling things and throwing themselves to the ground violently. Shauna and Donna ogle the boys. April, along with some other girls, cheer their boys on. The boys wink t their girls whenever they can. Ann and Leslie sit there because it’s better than sitting in lonesome.

The boys are rough on each other, but it’s nothing like when they clash with greasers, it’s like nothing she’s ever seen, or hoped to have seen, but it happened. It started with the two boys – Chris and Ben – came lugging down the field towards the group. They talked cooly, and it was mostly Chris, Ben just nodding. But then it got loud and tense and then one of the larger group socked Chris in the nose, and he fell back. The girls gasped and then the whole field held it’s breath when Ben whipped out his knife. Leslie wonders bitterly how many times he’d taken that knife out from his back pocket to perfect the move. Maybe that why his pants are so ripped.

She’s surprised when the boy who Ben is holding his knife out at switches open his own, and she’s on her feet when they’re wrestling on the ground. Ann runs behind her, and so does Shauna, mostly curious.

“Hey, hey! Stop it! Stop fighting!” The boy who’s pinning Ben down stands, brushing off his sweaty shirt. Ben scrambles to sit up, and points his knife tip at her instead of his finger when he speaks.

“Stay out of this, girl. You don’t even know what you’re spittin’.” His words hurt even when he’s out of breath and on the floor.

“Don’t you speak to her like that.”

“I just did.”

And the boy has his hand on Ben’s forehead and his knees on Ben’s wrists and he punches Ben in the stomach and Ben yells and grunts but he continues to fight back with his knife in his hand but he’s hesitating to actually use it and Leslie is screaming and April is holding Andy back and Ann is on the ground with her index fingers on Chris’s nose. She doesn’t care who he is, but she knows he’s hurt.

Mr. Swanson breaks up the two boys and tells Leslie to hush. Holding onto their shirt collars, he basically carries them off the field. They’re muttering behind her, and Ann says that Leslie looks like a mess, and they still have some time left. Ann hooks her arm with Leslie’s, and ushers her away from the thinning crowd of aggravated boys and towards the school.

-

In the bathroom, Ann sits on the sink beside her while Leslie dabs her face with a wet paper towel, and then brushes her hair with Ann’s brush. They don’t say anything, and the only sound is the broken vent and the water. When she’s done she tosses out the paper towel and looks at Ann, who’s looking at Leslie and has a thinking look in her eye.

“What?” She asks.

Ann’s eyes seem to light up again into their natural beauty, like she’s been reanimated by Leslie’s voice.

“Oh, sorry,” She hops off the sink, “I was just thinking about that boy…”

“Which one?” Asks Leslie, but she already knows the answer.

“Chris. Admit it, he’s cute.”

“He’s attractive, but that other one-“ She stops herself, but Ann isn’t stupid, and she’s looking at Leslie mischievously, smirking and giggling with her head tilted like she’s planning on pranking someone or has an inappropriate joke. Maybe she’s in between both right now. Leslie doesn’t like it, her skin feels desert dry, like she hadn’t just washed it. It also feels desert hot on her cheeks and lips.

“What?” Leslie repeats.

“Oh, nothing…” Dismisses Ann.

-

At home that night she sits on her bed thinking about Ben and his knife and the words that almost slipped out of her pretty red lips and the look Ann gave her and the way she was nonchalantly open about a greaser boy being cute. She wishes she was as perfect as Ann, not feeling guilty or anything about liking a forbidden boy. It even sounds appealing, but to Leslie it’s only in books where you can deny rules for love. And it’s not like she’s in love with Ben. He was rude and even cut her on their first interaction, and pointed his knife at her in their second one. If anything, he was a rival, maybe an enemy. It doesn’t matter.

As long as she remembers that she isn’t in love with Ben.

Chapter Text

Days passed uninterrupted by boys with sleek hair that smelled like smoke and harsh sunlight. It was easy to forget the events that had occurred that day in the field and move on to more pressing matters. Birthday parties, for example, were more important than watching kids getting dragged away and advised not to intermingle, or else.

It was nothing new for Leslie to be spending her weekend hunting for birthday supplies. April knew what she wanted, and she wouldn’t stand for anything else, and neither would Leslie. April was a big fan of Halloween, and there would be nothing better than Halloween in April, with the itchy costumes and the candy and the walking in the dark with friends and the decorations. And though the party would be simple and minimalistic, with dramatic decorations and music and as little people as possible without it becoming too small, there were scarce stores with Halloween decorations in stock in the Spring. But Leslie thrived challenges.

Which is why she asked her mom to drive her to the East side. She was careful not to tell her mother where she was driving, telling her mother where to turn and such, but never answering the question Marlene wouldn’t quit asking. “Where are we going?”

It was when Leslie said “Stop here” in front of a bar that was so loud the shouting could be heard from inside the car and there were kids her age or a little older hobbling down the sidewalk, drunk, that her mother realized.

“No way.” Said her mother. “You’ll get mugged here. Don’t you dare leave the car.” But that’s what Leslie did. Marlene didn’t stop her. There was no use impeding Leslie Knope. Her mother parked the car, and locked the doors and took a book out. That was good.

She looked at the paper she had written everything she needed on, and began walking, looking for street signs or the store she needed. It took a while, but she found it. She gathered her supplies; stuffed animals and bullet shells. The man at the counter eyed her suspiciously, and she didn’t know if it was because of the way she was dressed so fancy compared to him or because of the things she put down in front of him, or both. She said thank you, and he dipped his head curtly. He wasn’t an animal. This made her feel safe.

It was a false feeling. As soon as she stepped out and the door closed behind her, she was swept off her feet and someone cussed in her face and she was being dragged away, her belongings falling around her where she couldn’t get them. She was then pushed against the cold brick wall of a building where she was forced to look into the hungry eyes of a drunken man, young and blonde and shaggy. She tried to break away, and then she screamed, and he pulled his hands away from her own and put them to his ears instead and she slapped him and ran as fast as she could but drunk men are sometimes faster and stronger, and she was on the floor again. Her chin hid the ground so hard the nerves in her eyes screamed with her mouth and she felt hot tears.

“Hush, hush, girl.” Whispered the man. “I don’t wanna spook ya. Or hurt ya, matter fact.” He noted her split chin, blood fresh. “Not on purpose, of course.” His laugh was like Ben’s. It made her tears run hotter.

He observed her with watery rodent eyes. Light was dim but it caught on the chain of her necklace. He gripped on it, and where his skin made contact with hers, it burned. He tugged at the necklace, and she yelled.

“No! You can’t have that! My best friend gave that to me!” She begged, struggling with her own hands to pull his away, but she was weak and he was drunk and he hit her hard so that her head hit a brick and she felt faint but still awake and he held her up, tugging harder at the chain.

She continued to cry out, words sputtering out of her mouth as she sobbed and screamed for help, tried to keep his hands off of her. He ripped the necklace off her neck, and it made a slit in the back of her head so deep she felt dizzy and fell forward on the musty ground and she watched him get away. She had stopped crying and attempted to get up, but her legs weren’t strong and she could only stand on all fours. She watched his silhouette become blurrier.

Something hit him in the head, and another figure stepped in while the man crumbled on the ground in a lump. The second figure leaned down and then back up, and walked towards her. Closer to her, he’s obviously masculine, and familiar as well, but that’s something she could care less about right now. He held his hand out for her, and she looked at it. It smelled like fire and it made her dizzy and she fell on her stomach and coughed, groaning when her chin touched the ground.

The voice was faraway and grainy, like the sounds that came out of a battered up radio, and it said “Oh,” and then she felt cool leather and denim fabric on her aching skin as his hands rolled her over and held her side. He was warm and he smelled like a greaser but he smelled like someone you can trust, someone who suffers out of not having options, instead of someone who suffers just to say they did at the dinner table. She let him lift her head up, and he did it so gently she forgot he was a greaser until his finger touched the gushing cut on the back of her head, and she yelled.

“Sorry, sorry.” He said, and from her close proximity to his mouth she could tell that he was worried but was trying not to worry her. The way he tried to keep it out of his voice made her feel okay. She closed her eyes.

He carefully put on hand under her knees, and when she flinched he took his hand back and asked for permission. She tried to speak and out came a cough, so she nodded. The other hand went under her neck, his palm holding her ear and hair to his shoulder like she was a sleeping child. He struggled to stand, he was her own age. Even though her eyes were closed, she knew when he stepped out of the alley, and she felt it too. The sun was all the way up, it was noon. She thought of her mom, waiting in the car. Was she beginning to worry?

The boy stopped. “These things yours?” She couldn’t see, but she knew he meant the stuffed animals and shells. She nodded.

He sat on his knees, still holding onto her head, and put her legs against his own and used the hand to pick things up. He occasionally leaned into her and she couldn’t help but groan into his collar. She felt ungrateful, but thankful when he scooted forward instead of leaning. He put the stuff on her stomach and lifted her up again. She fell asleep. His lop-sided gait was like being cradled.

-

She woke up with her nose buried in a pillow that had been newly washed but continued to smell like sweat and faintly of bed. She was lying on her back, with a wet rag on her chin. It began to sting when she prodded it, the rag on the injury, so she took it off and held it in her hands until her hand felt cold with the water and rubbed her fingers over her tired eyes, and sat up, the sheets wrinkling under her. She was still in her dress and shoes and the back of her head still throbbed, but not as much as before. She looked at the pillow. A tiny stain of blood where her head had been stood out against the faded yellow fabric.

She felt bad in this unfamiliar room. The room was obviously the home of someone who could not afford the best. The window was opened to let in air. The furniture was mismatched and painted over to look new. She took of her shoes and put them on the floor beside the bed, and used her saliva to rub off the stain.

“Hey, she’s awake!” Said a young voice, feminine, and when Leslie turned around the girl was leaving the threshold.

Another set of footsteps joined the girl’s, and Ben walked into the room. He didn’t look as surprised to see her in his room as she did. She stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he her savior?

“Don’ look so spooked.” He muttered, pushing the smaller girl away.

He sat down beside her, the mattress sinking underneath him. He had dried blood, her dried blood, on his shoulder still. He held out her broken chain to her. Seeing it made her remember the cut on the back of her neck. When she touched it, it burned, but there was a bandage on it. She took the necklace from him, straining to move now.

“Thank you.” She said. He looked away.

“You look like hell, you got thrown ‘round pretty rough.” He picked at the skin on his fingertips, “You should shower ‘n eat, my mom’ll drive ya home afterwards.” He didn’t ask for her permission, she had no option. She nodded and he got up, holding out a hand to her. It was bruised so she held it lightly.

While they were walking out she stopped and cleared her throat so he would do the same. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Thank you, really. For saving my life.

He laughed, genuinely, like she’d told a joke. “I didn’t save ya life. I saved ya chain thing. But no problem, my pleasure, anytime.” He smiled at the creaky floorboards as he led her to the bathroom. As she stepped inside, he said. “Next time, bring ya boyfriend or mom or someone with ya when you come ‘round here. Thought a Socy girl like you woulda known better.” She didn’t reply; just shut the door without looking at him.

She undressed and put everything on the toilet seat. The shower was cold but it woke her up and felt good against her skin. She washed off her face and then scrubbed the blood out of her hair and used no shampoo and very little soap. She had some at home anyway, and this family needed it more than her. When she was finishing up the door creaked open, and she hid behind the curtain, peering out with only her eyes and hair visible. Ben walked in looking red, covering his eyes, a towel in his hand, some clothing in the other.

“Sorry, Mom wanted me to give this.” He held out the towel and she shut off the water before taking it, and wrapped it around her as soon as possible. It was a large towel, and covered her up pretty well.

“Thanks.” She said.

“Can I look now? Can’t really see nothin’ with my eyes shut like this.”

“Mhmm.”

He opened his eyes but they were looking at the shower curtain instead of her as she held out some clothing for her. It was just some of jeans and a t-shirt, both probably his own. She reached over to grab it from him, as the towel slipped from underneath her armpits. She was swift, quick, though, grabbing it and holding it up before being completely exposed in front of a boy, especially a gritty one that she wasn’t on the best terms with.

“Oh jeez.” He winced, and both of them were redder than the blood on his shirt. “Maybe I shouldn’t have looked.” Her laugh was more like a grimace. She takes the clothes and he slips out quickly.

She dresses inside the shower once dried, and steps out barefoot on the bathroom tiles. She should be cold, but the event that had occurred made her feel hot. She brushes her hair with her fingers in the mirror and ties it up with a lose strand of hair, something Ann had taught her. She gathers her clothing and puts the towel in the hamper and goes back to the room, where she puts on her shoes and slips on her bra and folds her clothes neatly on the bedside table. She wanders out of the room and into the hall until an older woman, most defiantly Ben’s mother, calls her. She realizes that this family – even Ben – has never learned her name, but she smiles politely and says hello and sits down in the empty seat. They begin to chatter, mostly the three about something Leslie doesn’t know about, so she stays quiet and swallows down the food that’s been set out in front of her. Ben’s mother notices

“Sweetie, what’s your name?” The woman is kind, with a soft voice and smile, nothing like a greaser.

“Leslie, Leslie Knope.” She smiles and leans over the dinner table to shake her hand. She realizes how impolite leaning over the table is, but the woman chortles, taking the girl’s hand and shakes it.

“Julia Wyatt.” Replies the woman.

They include Leslie in the conversation. Ben reveals they go to school together, leaving out details like the cut she gave him the first time they met and the angry words he had spit at her. Julia doesn’t talk like Ben, and neither does the girl, who she learns is Ben’s “kid sister”, named Stephanie.

“What were you doing here in the East side?” Asked Julia, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it in sauce, something Leslie wasn’t allowed to do at home.

“My friends birthday party is tomorrow, at school. The theme is Halloween but you can’t really find lots of decorations in the middle of April.” She says with a tiny grin. She spots Ben, who’s gone silent, looking down at his empty plate. “Hey, I just remembered. You want to go? The party is for the whole school, but some friends are going to hang out afterwards. You should join us?”

Julia beams for him, but Leslie sees a smile form on his own face. “How kind!”

“Chris too?” He asks, to sound less eager than he looks.

“Of course, whoever you want.”

“That’s tuff.” He says, “I mean, thanks.” He adds with a disapproving glance from his mother’s direction.

-

Julia drives Leslie home. Leslie sits on the passenger seat. Stephanie wants to go, too, she wants to see the big houses and decorated trees and perfectly trimmed hedges of the West side. Ben tags along as well. He tries to convince Steph to play cards with him, but she’s looking out the open window wide-eyed. He asks Leslie, and she accepts, but she plays badly and has to keep looking away from him when Julia asks where to turn.

She steps out when they pull up on the driveway. Leslie’s house isn’t as big, but Stephanie says, “Wow!”, winning a giggle from Leslie, who grabs the bag Julia gave her full of belongings, saying good-byes and thank you’s over her shoulder.

When she knocks on door, Marlene sighs in relief and pulls Leslie into the house and then into a hug. A lecture follows, and Marlene makes Leslie take off the clothes and shower, even when Leslie says she already did.

-

The next morning, a Sunday, Ann and Leslie spend hours calling everyone in the school to remind them to bring candy and dress in costumes and bring Halloween decorations. The teachers weren’t as excited as the students are, but when Ann and Leslie explain that they already invited everyone, they don’t have any other option than to okay.

On Monday, Leslie walks to Ann’s house carrying many bags along with her schoolbag, and the two fill up the backseat and trunk of Ann’s mom’s trunk with everything for the party. Ann is younger but she drives because she’s more mature and Leslie is too excited. When they get to school, the Sun shyly looms underneath the horizon, it’s rays breaking the night sky and revealing a pink and blue that doesn’t mix into purple. Leslie smiles at it, it’s so beautiful she forgets it’s because of pollution, and then she helps Ann put up an orange-and-black banner over each gate. The clouds slowly begin turning wispy white when the early bird teachers begin arriving. They open doors for the girls, and begin decorating.

When few students start arriving dressed in costumes, Ann says she’s got to change but she needs to drive the car back before Ann’s mom realizes. Leslie eagerly offers to drive it back. She still shaking with adrenaline but she persuades Ann to let her by letting Ann check her pulse. Ann says it’s okay, and hands her the car keys.

In the parking lot, she walks past Ben and Chris, who are babbling in their language about something Leslie has little time to care about and having a morning smoke. They don’t acknowledge her. They aren’t even wearing costumes. It takes some time to try to find the right keys, and when the car door finally clicks open, Ben and Chris are at her side.

“What’re you up to, Soc?” Asks Chris. He tries to sound rude but he’s too kind.

She looks up at them. Chris has a blank look on his face. Ben’s eyes are soft with familiarity, but also hardened with embarrassment and fake anger. She remembers the towel incident and shuts the door so the lights turn off.

“Never seen a girl drive a car?”

Chris snickers but it sounds like he thought she was actually funny. Her facial expression is rigid, but she wants to crack a smile. Ben isn’t a fan of silence.

“Girls drive a cars, yeah. Just that there ain’t a way yer allowed to drive one. Who’d ya steal this baby from?” He pats the hood with his free hand.

“I didn’t steal it.” She says bitterly, but she realizes now that she did. She also realizes that she needs to go. She opens the door and sits down to shut it Ben keeps it open.

“You’re telling me this here car’s your property?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’.” He inhales some smoke and it comes out of his nose as he speaks, “Jus’ that I ain’t to used to Socy girl of the like drivin’ ‘round in cars that aren’t theirs without licenses.”

“Like you haven’t stolen and driven a car you can’t drive before.” The hurt in his eyes what not something she’d thought she’d see. She blinks up at him and thinks for the second time that greasers aren’t that bad. They seem to have a code of conduct that they follow without hesitation. Maybe her mom was wrong again, maybe not all greasers going around punching each other and stealing and looking for trouble. She doesn’t say this. “I don’t care what you think.” And she shuts the door, quickly but making sure she doesn’t catch his fingers.

-

She runs back to class just as the late bell rings. She missed seeing April’s face when she arrived to school and saw all the Halloween decoration, but Ann tells her at lunch that it was priceless. All the students said surprise when she got there, which she didn’t like a lot, but everything else made up for it. April hugged her at lunch as well, and they all ate red velvet cake with Ann’s face on it. Ann didn’t care much, she always wanted have a cake with her face on it anyway, and April loved it so much she actually ate some. Leslie does all her work quickly and hopes for class to be over so she can hang out with Ann and April and Andy and Tom and the whole group. When the bell rings, she runs outside, still in her dress because she didn’t have the chance to change into her costume.

The group walks together to the park. Andy carries a cooler while Tom drags another one behind him, complaining the whole way, only pausing to sit down on the lid and breathe. They set everything up in an empty campsite within dense trees. The sun is still out but soon it will disappear and night will fall over them and it’ll be like real Halloween. Chris and Ben are already there. Neither one of them is smoking, or speaking as a matter of fact. Chris jogs around the perimeter of the campgrounds while Ben lays on his back upon the grass, eyes closed and hands beneath his head. He looks at peace, so Leslie tries not to bother him as she puts down a small portable radio and turns it on. The coolers have alcoholic beverages in them, upon April’s request, but Leslie had managed to slip in some juice. She sits against a tree, not minding that her dress is snagging against the roots of the tree. She’s at a party, she thinks as she sips some of her juice. She’ll worry about everything else later.

After a while everyone has become drunk. A group has gathered to play some twisted version of truth or dare. She sees a drunk Ann kiss and unsuspecting Chris. She giggles and he smiles at her and repeats her name when she tells him. She wraps her arms around his neck and they kiss again, swaying to the music. Ann seems to have forgotten about the game.

Ben sits down beside him, a juice in his hand. She lifts an eyebrow at him, and takes a gulp from her own juice box.

“You aren’t going to get drunk?” She asks.

He doesn’t look at her. His eyes follow Chris and Ann longingly. It hurts for her to think that maybe Ben likes Ann. She is gorgeous. Leslie looks down. “Nah.” He says. “I don’t usually get boozed up on school nights.”

The sun has begun to set and the grass is a powder indigo. “Well,” She says, shaking an empty juice box and taking one last noisy sip just in case, “I might as well have a drink or two.” She pushes herself off the ground and looms over him. He looks up at her. “Wanna dance?”

Ben gazes at the flower she’s stepping on, fidgeting uncomfortably and she worries it’s her fault. “No thanks.”

She feels hurt but shrugs, opening a cooler and uncapping a beer. Soon, she’s dancing with Jean-Ralphio’s hands on her waist. She isn’t that drunk but she’s lightheaded and laughing and swaying around to the grainy music. Her eyes fall on Ben many times as she swirls around barefoot on the grass. He’s looking at her longingly. Does he like every girl?

-

In a little, it becomes midnight and Leslie is sweating and spread-eagled on the ground, holding a cold piece of ice to her throbbing forehead as it melts and drips off the side of her temple and eye, like she’s crying. The radio ran out of battery a while ago but Andy brought his guitar and people are taking turns to sing. Everyone else is asleep on the ground around her. Ben crouches down beside her.

“You should go home.”

“I know.” She says, and she doesn’t feel the piece of ice in her hands anymore.

She takes his hand when he offers it, brushing dirt off of her and settling her feet into her shoes. He takes one of her arms and puts it over his shoulder, and then puts his hand under her armpit and together they walk through the forest until their standing on the sidewalk and he let’s go, embarrassed in the ways that all boys get when they touch girls even a little. They don’t speak, they just walk together.

It’s a blinding dark mixed with the dim overcast light of the street lights that make her eyes squint and water and she notices him staring at her. He notices too, and pretends to be looking at a stray cat scampering into a well-kept backyard. She turns into a private street to her house and he follows. She continues to say nothing. She feels both safe and suspicious of him. Now she’s looking at him. The little light of the night is bright against is greasy hair. He didn’t dress in costume but he’s wearing a black shirt tucked into some black pants and a brown belt. He wears boots. She remembers what she had whispered accidentally to Ann in the bathroom; he was very cute. He had a nice butt. She wanted to reach forward and hold his hand. It was the first time she had gotten the urge, ever.

Boy, am I drunk, she thought. But in the back of mind she knew she hadn’t had more than two drinks and had probably sobered up enough. She did find her house without trouble.

The two stopped in front of her house. She observed him and he did so back. “Hey, I’ve got something that belongs to you.” She remembered, fishing through her school bag. She handed him another bag with the jeans and the shirt he had lent to her. She didn’t mention she had brought it to wear as a costume. She was going as a greaser. She was thankful she hadn’t dressed up.

“Thanks.” He said taking it.

Then he turned his back and began his walk back home.

Chapter Text

She surveyed him from the backside as he went away, holding her schoolbag to her chest. She thought of the good he’d done for her, though begrudgingly, but he had done it, whereas she had only done it out of pity, and only in one occasion. The gasoline taste she had associated with him was gone, and she didn’t know whether it was because she was used to him or because she trusted him, but she had no reason to believe that he wasn’t trustworthy, or good for the matter. She decided not to think, and ran a little ways towards him, holding out her arm.

“Hey!” She cried, and he paused and turned his body midway and looked at her, standing directly beneath a streetlight. She noticed that she had done the same. She thought about how much all these things reminded her of the cliché romantic films Ann had made her watch. Maybe if it started pouring and she dropped her things on the sidewalk and ran into his arms and they’d kiss it could be a movie, but she knew that would never happen.

“It’s pretty late out and you haven’t eaten,” She began, “And you might get mugged or something, it is pretty dark out.” She yelled down at him. A dog barked.

“What’re you sayin’, Leslie?” He used her name for the first time.

“Oh, come on, I’m being nice to you. Do you want to eat and shower or do you wanna get punched in the face by some maniac boys?”

He was still, like he was thinking it over. He looked appealing under the yellow glow of the light. His shirt had been a t-shirt before, but the sleeves had been cut off messily. He wore it inside out, which made no difference except the tag was visible on his back, and she knew just by looking at him from a few blocks away that it wasn’t accidental. It was how his fashion sense worked, if he had any. His jeans, she noticed now, were not black, but a very dark navy blue that could probably be part of the sky. They were tight and had rips on the knees, real rips from wear and tear, and were faded along were his boots began. He had a watch, she realized, a good one. The light caught on it and it glimmered like the stars above him but they were nothing compared to him. He sure was cute.

She blushed and glanced downwards at a stick on the sidewalk that she kicked into the sidewalk. When she looked back up, he was smugly walking towards her. She turned on her heals and led him, which felt good. For the first time, she was bossing him around, and not vice versa. She even held the door for him, something that a lady should never have to do, but she really didn’t mind. He nodded curtly at her. She grabbed his lower arm, around his wrist, and pulled him through the dark to the kitchen. She found a loaf of bread and some cheese and ham and made him a cheese sandwich while he sat on the couch and flipped through the channels with the volume low enough to be audible but not loud enough to wake her mom up.

The two sat side-by-side and ate the sandwiches, tired eyes glued to the television set. When she was done she put her plate down on the kitchen table and waited for him to finish, but he ate slow so she told him she was going to shower.

She closed and locked the door and didn’t turn the light on because the vent would be too loud. She peed without flushing and turned the water on slowly, standing nude in the shower where the water only touched her toes. She showered everything off, the smell and the feeling and the water was warm but it made her wake up. Maybe the way it touched her skin made her feel that way. She turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around her clean body and tied her soggy hair up so that it wasn’t heavy on her shoulders anymore.

She ran through the hall and threw her door shut with her foot and dressed in suitable pajamas to be worn when there were visitors. She also brushed her teeth and rubbed her eyes and by the time she plopped beside Ben on the couch, her hair had dried halfway. He shyly gave her his plate and left to take a shower. He placed both plates in the sink, and left to find something for him to wear when a commercial break came on. She got the biggest shirt she could find and some fuzzy pants that were two sizes too big on her but might fit him. She knocked on the bathroom door and said “It’s me” into the crack and he said “It’s okay” and she tried to not feel embarrassed like he probably had felt the day when she was the one showering in his house. He put the clothing down on the table beside the sink and left.

When he stepped out he was wearing her pants and held the shirt in his hands, looking confused.

“It’s the only thing I had, sorry.” She squeaked. She tried not to look at his chest. He wasn’t very muscular on his chest like he was on his shoulders and arms but he obviously was strong enough to do straining physical work. He had some light chest hairs. His hair, dripping wet, had been brushed beck messily with his fingers. He put the shirt on the dining table and she folded her hands neatly on the blankets she had on her lap.

He sat down beside her, leaning against the pillow with his feet on the couch so that his toes would sometimes touch her thigh. Every time it happened it felt like touching a car door on a humid day and being electrocuted. The longer they sat there together, the more her heart raced.

-

When he sneezed, her eyes shot open and she sat up, erect. Her cheek was sore and a trail of saliva was hard on her face. She had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. She took her hands out from underneath his arm, face turning read. The television was still on, showing an infomercial, and she leaned over to see his sleeping face awash with the blue glow of the T.V. She took some hair out of his eyes and watched him for a while. She stood and moved him around softly, but he was a heavy sleeper and didn’t notice. She took the blanket she had been sitting on and put them over him. Her nails accidentally touched his chest and he flinched and she stood beside him, still. She thought she saw his ears go red like hers but her eyes were tired and the colors on the T.V were bright.

She turned it off and whispered a good-night and went to her room

-

In the morning when she groggily dragged her feet down the hall with her hair a complete mess and saw Ben in her mother’s bathrobe, smiling and speaking normal beside her mother, she thought she should go back to bed and get out of this dream. She had slept two more hours than she usually did, anyway, which was quite bad for her. But as she swiveled around and began walking out, her mother called her over.

“Good morning, Leslie.” Said her mother in a sing-songy voice.

Leslie smiled awkwardly. “Hey.” She sat on the only available seat.

She didn’t speak much, just put food on her plate and nodded and laughed at the jokes her mother told because Leslie’s job as Marlene’s daughter was to encourage goodwill. Marlene finished her coffee, and so did Ben, and she got up and told the two teenagers that they should get ready for school. Ben went to the bathroom first, saying he had to pee.

Marlene stood in the kitchen making sandwiches; not noticing the bread had been messily cut with unsteady hands. She made two and put the second one in a paper bag. Leslie picked up the plates and put them in the sink while Marlene told her it would be a cold day today.

Leslie put on a simple white dress and long socks under her Mary Janes, putting on her favorite red coat over it. She did her bed as she waited for Ben to get out of the bathroom. The two passed each other in the hallway. She noticed he had the jeans and shirt he had let her borrow. She felt even better about not wearing it to the party yesterday as she shut the door and took out her makeup bag.

When she was done, she and her mother waited in the porch and watched him leave. He liked to walk rather than go by car but she knew from the look on his face that he was discomfited and would rather get to school late for walking than arrive with a Soc girl in a Soc car.

“He’s a good kid, why’d you let him stay over?” Asked her mother.

“I wasn’t going to make him walk in the street at night.”

“I liked him,” Smiled Marlene, “If he wasn’t your age…”

“Mom.” Leslie looked wide-eyed.

“Oh, c’mon it’s only a joke.”

Did she not know? She didn’t seem like she knew. “Mom, Ben’s a greaser.”

Marlene’s smile disappeared quickly. She looked at Leslie like she had lied to her face. She stepped into the house and sat down on a chair. Leslie watched from the threshold. Marlene turned to her.

“You let a greaser sleep on our couch? What have I taught you?”

Ann’s voice called her name from the open window of Ann’s mom’s car. She remembered yesterday and how the two had stolen the car and her encounter with the greaser himself. She jumped off the porch steps and opened the backdoor of the car like it was a regular day.