Chapter Text
He was on the outskirts of town, thumbing for a ride and almost cutting his losses when he saw her again for the first time since The Dingo. Johnny didn't recognize the old souped-up green car at first; he assumed it was simply a good Samaritan when he watched it flip around in the middle of the street and start inching towards him.
Then, when he saw who was behind the wheel, Johnny couldn't stop the Cheshire cat grin that spread across his lips.
Sylvia was practically hangin’ out of the car, one arm high in the air and waving in Johnny’s direction and the other slapping across the radio, fumbling around with the notches in an attempt to turn it down.
“Hey Johnny!”
She pulled the car up a few feet in front of him and continued to wave him down until he came closer. She then blew her bubblegum before letting it abruptly pop against her teeth.
“Why ya out here without the others? Are your buddies too good to pick ya up?”
Johnny looked down at the path of dirt that made the sidewalk and thrusted his hands into his pockets, a nervous habit he didn’t even realize he had.
“No, all of ‘em are workin’ or too busy, that's all.”
She once again signaled him to come closer, and as he walked towards her car door he thought of the reputation that preceded Sylvia. He could remember the many occurrences where he noticed Dallas had his shiny token of affection back on his ring finger even though he gave it to her. Her. She squinted at him, a pair of white sunglasses shining bright against her dark hair. Sylvia’s not blonde like the other girls Dal and Two-Bit holler after, but she's pretty. Tuff, even. She wore more makeup than Sandy or even Kathy did, but Johnny liked it. She looked good. Beautiful, even.
She popped her gum once more, breaking Johnny out of his thoughts. Her lips were stained a light pink from the bubblegum, and Johnny was reminded of the many times Dallas came around with the same color on his own lips. And neck. Johnny shuddered.
“What're ya even doin’ out here? I’m only here ‘cause mama likes –”
“I knew it ain't your car,” Johnny interrupted before he could stop himself. He didn't know why he was acting like this – covering his face against the sun to look bashfully into Sylvia’s eyes. Dal’s girl’s eyes.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “Dal never mentioned you ownin’ such a tough car.”
“It’s my mama’s old man’s car. He doesn't know that I got my hands on it, but he’s never around anyway. He’s a trucker. And besides, he don't like Dallas.”
Sylvia gave Johnny a knowing look, as if they both understood why anyone would dislike Dally. But Sylvia assumed wrong. Johnny was the first person to defend Dally’s honor – even before Two-Bit – but that's what friends are for, right? They looked out for each other. And he knew Dallas would do the same for him.
“Aw c’mon, Dal’s not all bad,” Johnny kicked a small pebble and watched as it thumped against one of the front car tires. Sylvia shot him a stern glare.
“Looks like you're pickin’ up his bad habits! That rock could've hit my window!” Despite the tone of her voice, her face told Johnny that she was just teasing. “C’mon, get in. I’ll take ya into town.”
Johnny was violently reminded of his surroundings and the position he put himself in, and he was hit with a wave of relief and disappointment at the same time. He was hitching for a ride. That's why she pulled over. That's the reason why she was talking to him.
“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment. People often mistook it for shyness; he figured Sylvia did too. “Thanks.”
Sylvia's eyes followed his movements as Johnny walked around the front of the car. After he tugged on the handle without success, Sylvia let out a giggle and leaned over to unlock the door. Johnny gawked at the clean, smooth leather seats before him, and then looked down at his own grimy jacket. He felt out of place, but wasn't Sylvia a greaser, too? Why’d her mama’s old man own such a nice car? God, was this a stolen car? Did Sylvia really offer to pick him up in a stolen —
“Richie’s daddy gave it to him when he died,” Sylvia grinned mischievously, as if she could read Johnny’s mind. “It's the only thing he left for 'em in the will.”
“Oh.”
He slid into the seat beside her, trying his best not to make eye contact with the dark haired girl behind the wheel. She made him nervous, but not the usual type of nervous he felt. It was a good type of nervous, Johnny guessed, ‘cause it honestly made him feel good and he didn't want it to end.
“Johnny,” Sylvia spoke softly, but it still caught him off guard. However, she only smiled when he gawked at her with what he can only imagine looked like a deer in headlights. “Think we can keep this just between us?”
“What?”
“This. Me givin’ you a ride and all. I don't think the old man would be thrilled, ya savvy?”
Johnny nodded. He knew that the “old man” this time referred to Dallas.
-
Johnny wondered if Sylvia talked the ear off of every hitcher she claimed to pick up or if he was just special. She talked to him as if he were an old friend and not just some greasy kid she talked to once at The Dingo – not like he was just her boyfriend’s buddy. She was entertaining, he had to admit, but Sylvia didn’t provide any context for the gossip she seemed to be spreading. He only recognized some of the names as kids from school because they lived on the east side. The others, he had not a clue. She told him who was going with who, and who was fighting with who, and so on. Once Johnny interrupted her to ask for a cigarette, and she rolled her eyes at him and scolded him; no one smoked in her mama's old man’s car besides the old man. Instead, she offered him a stick of gum.
So there he was – Johnny blowing bubblegum in a car with his best friend’s girl. It was funny, though, because the conversation always went back to her relationship with Dallas, and each reminder somehow made Johnny’s heart sink.
“Ruth says he’s crazy for goin’ with me ‘cause I’m an ‘almost’ colored girl, but I think that's what he likes best about me,” Sylvia had turned the volume up on the radio just a bit, but Johnny could still hear the pride in her voice. “He says I remind him of the girls in New York.”
Johnny grinned approvingly, but didn't know what to say. That was always his response when she began to talk about Dally. She would usually continue on with the rest of her gossip, but this time Sylvia turned and locked eyes with him.
“Besides, he hangs around you and you're darker than me!”
Sylvia began to laugh before Johnny could even process that what she said was funny. He shrugged awkwardly and forced a small laugh, “No. Well, maybe. My folks don't speak Spanish or nothin’, though.”
“My mama don't either, but I think my pops did. She says her side is from England or somethin’, but Pop’s south of the border.”
Truth be told, Johnny didn't have a clue about his genealogy. He remembered an older man from his childhood that he assumed was his grandfather, but from which side he couldn't say. Both of his parents referred to the man as ‘dad’, but Johnny couldn't tell who meant it more than the other. Besides, thinking about that old man filled Johnny with dread for whatever reason; maybe his folks started bickering more when that man left. Or possibly died.
“My folks don’t need another language to use for swearin’ at each other. One’s enough.”
Sylvia chuckled and looked at him for a moment. Although he was looking at the road, she seemed to be studying his face, perhaps trying to see through the dirt on Johnny’s skin to see how dark he really was. Or maybe she got the hint that Johnny was uncomfortable.
They were approaching the first traffic light on the way into town from the far east side. It was red, but rather than idling as one normally did at a red light, Sylvia hit the brakes and turned fully in her seat to face Johnny. It caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but grasp onto the door handle out of fear. Sylvia didn't react to Johnny’s skittishness, though.
“My sister’s in the same class as that Curtis kid,” she began. “She thinks he’s real cute.”
Johnny didn't know which Curtis she was referring to, but his answer applied to all three.“Yeah, everyone does. All of 'em are good lookin’.”
Sylvia then grabbed Johnny’s wrist; her hands were cold compared to his sweaty, nervous palms, and he feared she might say something. Instead, she wrapped her pinky finger around his and squeezed.
“Just between us….” she began, and Johnny wondered if she possibly could feel his heart beating through his finger. It was wrong to keep any more secrets with Sylvia, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Think ya can get my sister a date with the Curtis boy?”