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Ponyboy Curtis was ready to revolt. Against his brothers, his friends- hell, even against society as a whole. Not only did Soda arrive home at a completely unreasonable hour the night before (“I didn’t drink a drop, mama! You know I hate the stuff!”), but most of the track team was right along with him, except with the added hangovers. Their actions left Ponyboy dealing with the consequences, and frankly, he had had enough. And apparently his track coach did too.
Here the team was, in the unusually blistering heat of the September afternoon, receiving the brunt of the coach’s fury.
“All of this drinking and partying could get me fired! You boys DO know that, right?”
What could get you fired are all of the alcohol bottles you keep giving Judith Caine , Ponyboy thought. Teachers seemed to act more careless when he was in their midst. If he wanted to, Ponyboy could get every teacher fired without a second thought. But of course he wouldn’t! But, if a situation arised, and something needed to happen…
But it wouldn’t. Not here. Not when they had a big meet the next day and most of the team looked ready to call it. The air shifted next to him where Daniel Lewis, the official team captain ( Freshman can’t be team captains is what Pony was told when he was offered the spot as “Junior Track Captain”) was standing. A muddled groan escaped Lewis’s throat and Pony instinctively took a step closer.
Here we go again
Ponyboy held out his arms as the Captain collapsed into them. He didn’t think anything of it, but the rest of the team did. As he settled Daniel to the ground, all eyes were on him. He brushed off his hands.
“What?” He shrugged. “You’ve all met Mathews.”
The team stood agape for a moment before the Coach interrupted them for the stupor that laid across the field.
“Curtis, you’re dismissed.” Coach scrubbed his face. “You’ll hear from me in a few days about a… promotion.”
Suck that, Lewis , he grinned to himself as he gathered his things to leave the track. Every day he was more and more grateful that he was NOT a party person, unlike Soda and Mathews.
Ponyboy couldn’t hear what punishments he gave to the rest of the team, but they were clearly cruel and unusual based on the uproar caused by the rest of his team.
Not my Circus, not my monkeys. Not my Circus, not my monkeys.
~~~
Ponyboy Curtis didn’t think himself to be better than everyone else, though all evidence seemed to point that way. And he was more than fine with that. He was the editor of the school newspaper. He was president of two clubs, (almost) captain of the track team, and a member of many more clubs and things. Teachers looked at him like he was the Second Coming of Christ- like they were his biggest fans.
And that usually worked in his favor.
Keyword: usually .
When he entered the library an entire 90 minutes before his regular time, he was greeted not to his silent sanctuary, but to an unknown voice cursing up a storm. Now it wouldn’t bother Pony all that much if he were anywhere else, but not here. Not in his calm oasis. And most definitely not in front of Miss Gloria, his favorite person (besides his mom and Darry, of course) in the entire world. Rumor has it, she was the librarian when his grandfather was still in high school. When he asked though, all he was met with was a scoff and a side eye.
Needless to say he never asked again. The only thing he ever asked Miss Gloria for these days were menial tasks to keep him busy if he didn’t have much homework and Darry was held up at practice.
Ponyboy opened the library door to a boy in the middle of the room on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He was beginning to feel bad, but those emotions were quickly rolled away when he realized that this boy was a Greaser . What was a Greaser doing in the library? And disturbing all of the peace in a twenty minute radius, no less!
Now, Pony knew he had power to stop this nonsense. He was a Curtis, for Christ’s sake! The only people who ever had more power than them was the Winstons, and he saw how Dallas ended up.
But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t push the Boy out of the space. Miss Gloria would have his head.
Miss Gloria…
Pony made his way to the circulation desk to greet the librarian. Behind him, The Boy let out another string of curses and Pony couldn’t hide his grimace. Miss Gloria looked up and asked him, “What’s wrong baby?”
Pony gestured to where the Boy was trying to sink through the table. “What is he still doing here?”
Miss Gloria glared at his choice of words. “The poor boy has been in here all week for hours on end trying to do his work.”
What else would you do in a library? “So? Could he do it quieter? What’s the point of all that cussin’?”
Ponyboy felt bad riling up Miss Gloria, but it had to be done. He had to wear her down enough to make her throw the Boy out.
But she wasn’t budging. “I think it’s a Literature assignment. He’s been saying things like ‘green light’ and ‘stupid Gatsby’ since he got here, and that was before the bell rang.”
Not that he would admit it, but Ponyboy started feeling for the Boy. He remembered when Soda brought home that assignment. He wouldn’t wish that upon his worst enemy.
But he couldn’t tell that to Miss Gloria.
“Well that’s not my problem,” Ponyboy snarked instead.
Miss Gloria rolled up the newspaper she was reading and hit him over the head with a mighty thwack .
“Ponyboy Michael Curtis,” she chastised. Ponyboy shrunk under her gaze. “You were blessed with that brain of yours for a reason. Go help that boy this instant.”
The tell-tale thud of a knocked over chair made Ponyboy whip around. Apparently, the Boy didn’t want the help just as much as Ponyboy didn’t want to help.
But there was something about the Boy that made Pony’s entire body freeze. For on that boy’s face, from his hairline to jaw, was the biggest scar Ponyboy had ever seen on a person. Just where Steve said it was.
If Ponyboy had to choose a least favorite story that Steve and Dallas had told him about their brawls with the Greasers, it had to be the one about the boy they almost killed. And Steve was so proud of it too. Some days he would complain about not being able to finish the job, and Soda would always respond with, “My career couldn’t handle a dead body.” And Dallas would always roll his eyes. That made Pony want to get sick.
As much as Pony hated Greasers, he couldn’t hate that boy. No matter the situation, murder was not the solution. And to live with the memory…
Ponyboy felt a shudder rack through his body.
But apparently he had been staring at the scar for a moment too long when he locked eyes with The Boy. The fear in his eyes shattered Ponyboy’s heart.
He turned back to Miss Gloria, who looked like she was about to cry. She must know his story .
Without a second thought, Ponyboy made up his mind.
“Yeah, I’ll do it, Miss Gloria.”
He must have looked sad too because Miss Gloria gave him a look that matched his insides.
“You okay, sugar?”
“I hope so.”
Ponyboy turned back around and made his way towards the Boy. He was haphazardly shoving his belongings into a bag that should have been replaced six months ago. It was a wonder anything was staying inside the way the Boy was moving around.
Against his better judgment, Ponyboy approached him and placed what he thought was a comforting hand on his left shoulder. After all, it worked for Soda.
But the Boy wasn’t Soda. As if on instinct, the Boy twisted his body and threw a punch with his right. Pony dodged, his eyes meeting Miss Gloria. She subtly beckoned Pony to come back to her, but he shook his head. He put himself in this situation, so he was going to help diffuse it.
Being the most patient he had ever been in his life, Ponyboy sat down in the empty chair next to the mangled backpack. He studied it, waiting for the Boy to collect himself. However, it only took a moment before he heard a shaky breath from above.
The boy tossed the bag occupying the chair onto the table and lowered himself next to Ponyboy. The pair sat in silence for a few moments before one of them spoke.
“You look like him, ya know.”
That hit Ponyboy like a freight train. It finally made sense why the Boy was so scared.
Dammit Sodapop Curtis.
“Well,” Ponyboy said, trying to lighten the mood. “He doesn’t know what’s good if it bites him in the ass.”
The Boy snorted, but covered his mouth quickly, hoping it didn’t betray him.
Well that’s progress .
Ponyboy stuck his hand out in front of him. “I’m Ponyboy Curtis.”
But the Boy didn’t shake his hand. He glared and Pony’s hand like it was going to burn him.
“No shit,” the Boy said.
“Huh?” was all Pony could say.
“Everyone and their fucking Uncle knows who the Curtis Family is. It’s not that hard.”
Ponyboy never thought of it like that. They knew his brothers- Darry from the football field and Soda from their television screen - but never him. He wasn’t anything special, like the Boy was insinuating.
“They know my brothers, not me.”
The Boy quirked his eyebrow and pulled his work from his bag.
“You never told me your name.”
The Boy paused and looked Ponyboy in the eyes, and he realized just how wild they were. They were the eyes of a boy who had seen too much in his short life.
The Boy’s face darkened, and Ponyboy was worried he said the wrong thing.
“Why would you care?”
Ponyboy was losing patience. He was nothing but civil with the boy, and this is what he got in return.
“I am just trying to help you,” Ponyboy retorted angrily. But if you think you can do that on your own I’ll just leave.”
He didn’t really want to leave, but if the Boy was going to be a brat, well, two could play that game.
Standing to leave, Ponyboy made a point of slamming his hands down on the table (for the drama, of course.) He felt a grasp tighten around his wrist. His gaze drifted towards the boy, who for once was unreadable.
“How do I know you’re not just gonna get me later?” The Boy whispered.
Ponyboy scoffed. “Are you serious? Do you see anyone else wanting to care?”
The Boy removed his hand from his wrist as hurt flashed across his face. Ponyboy flinched at his choice of words. Why had he said that? He was trying to be nice for once!
“I’m sorry. That was mean.” Ponyboy apologized. And he meant it.
Johnny’s mouth curved in a weak smile.
“I have never heard a Soc apologize before. And to a Greaser above all things.”
Ponyboy chuckled. “I guess there’s a first time for anything. And besides, I’m not really a Soc, I don’t think.”
The Boy raised his eyebrows. “Really? You’re not sure?”
There was no way in hell Ponyboy was about to bear his soul to a stranger. A Greaser, of all people.
“I’m not telling you that.”
Instead of needling further, the Boy just shrugged and held out his hand for Pony to shake. He noticed that the Boy’s middle finger had a crick to it, almost like it was broken and never properly healed.
“I’m Johnny. Johnny Cade.”
Pony took the Boy’s - well, Johnny’s - hand.
With that situation diffused, Pony took it as an invitation to dig through Johnny’s homework. He found a page belonging to the Great Gatsby unit, so he assumed it was the right assignment.
As he read through the assignment (it was exactly what it thought it was - the meaning of that Green Light), Johnny sputtered indignantly.
“You’re only a Freshman! There’s no way-”
“Is this what you need help with or not?” Pony interrupted.
Johnny glanced at the crumpled page in Ponyboy’s hand and nodded.
“Great! Okay, so Gatsby and Daisy-”
It was Johnny’s turn to interrupt. “Do you really know what’s going on, or do you think I’m an easy target to fail?”
Ponyboy couldn’t believe the guy. But he needed to keep his cool.
”Soda brought it home last year, and I read it for him,” he answered nonchalantly.
“FOR him?” Johnny gawked.
All Ponyboy could do was shrug.
“He tolerated arithmetic more than English. Still hated it, but at least he did that homework by himself.”
As if that was an answer. Johnny opened his mouth to ask another question, but closed it, seemingly decanting that it wasn’t worth it to ask.
For the next hour, the boys went back and forth, throwing out ideas for the meaning of The Green Light. Slowly but surely, Johnny gained more confidence in analyzing The Great Gatsby .
At some point in the afternoon, the conversation drifted away from English Literature and to more mundane topics.
Hours went by minutes, and soon enough, the 5 o’clock bell rang, signaling the end of sport practices. The color drained from Johnny’s face as he shoved everything into his bag. As he rushed away from the table, Pony asked, “What’s the rush? The library doesn’t close until eight!”
“I need to get home before the athletes get out of the showers,” Johnny replied, as if he was stating the obvious.
That didn’t make any sense to Pony. What did the athletes have to do with Johnny's schedule?
Ponyboy must have looked as confused as he felt, and Johnny sighed.
“Why do you think I’m never here when you are, Ponyboy Curtis?” There was an off emphasis on his last name and Pony couldn't help but flinch at the connotation. “I’d rather get home alive than in a body bag.”
With that, Johnny Cade fled the library, leaving Ponyboy Curtis standing alone in the middle of the room, a goodbye ghosting his lips.
~~~~
All things considered, Darrel Curtis thought practice went pretty well that day. Even with the events from the night before, only two of his guys got sick and only one passed out, which was a new record. Granted, he made them run laps as a punishment, but all-in-all it was a good day.
Darry made it through the showers in record time, avoiding the team's groans and complaints that he was a terrible person for making the team run laps when they already felt terrible. It wasn’t his fault Mathews decided to throw a last minute party when his mom’s club had a last minute cancellation.
“We need to do something with this booze! Can’t let cold beer go to waste!” Mathews insisted when he was telling Darry about the impromptu party of his.
“Next time,” he advised. “Don’t do everything Keith Mathews says. Especially on a school night.”
Darry made his way towards the library. If their practices synced, he and Ponyboy would meet after sports and get a bit of homework done. It was their version of bonding, since they never hung out during the school day.
Darry liked to take a scenic path to the building. Though he loved learning, he loved his reputation most of all, which meant he couldn’t be seen entering the building. Miss Gloria always left the back door unlocked for him.
Apparently someone else had the same idea. Near the parking lot, Darry was almost knocked over by a beat looking kid sprinting his way off campus. If he were anyone else, he would have stopped him, maybe adding a few punches in for good measure. But he wasn’t Steve. The kid was clearly stressed and Darry didn’t want to add anything to the kid’s plate.
Realizing what had happened, the boy turned around, horrified. Darry tried to give a light smile, and waved his hands in a shoo gesture, just to let him know it’s all fine, but that seemed to just scare the boy even more. He turned abruptly, tripping on his feet as he did so, and sped off faster than he came.
Darry hoped Steve Randle wouldn’t catch him.
Finally making it to the library, Darry snuck through the back door. If he wasn’t held up by his coach, he would make it to the library before his brother since the football field was closer than the track field. He made his way to their normal table, annoyed that someone was already sitting there.
No. Not someone.
It was Ponyboy, hunched over a table, piles of completed work surrounding him on all sides.
Too much work.
Sneaking over to Ponyboy, Darry placed his elbow on him, using his brother's short stature as his own personal armrest. Ponyboy jumped a mile (which was not unusual), before settling into the position. Without looking up from what he was working in, Pony patted the empty chair next to him and Darry sat. He leaned over his brother’s shoulder.
“Whatcha working on kid?”
“Just some work,” he vaguely answered, still looking down.
”Just some?” Darry mused. “There’s no way you just got here. What happened at practice today?”
Ponyboy finally tore his eyes away from the paper and grinned.
“Let Mathews know that he needs to schedule more weeknight parties.”
Darry let out a deep laugh, ruffled his kid brother’s hair, and started on his own work, wondering
what the hell did Ponyboy get up to today?