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“Are you sure you want me to do it?” Johnny asked nervously. He shifted foot to foot behind his friend, the handle of the switchblade growing sweaty in his hand. “Darry’s better at cuttin’ hair. I’ve never done it before.”
Dally snorted, “As if I would trust him anywhere near my head with a blade.” Dally twisted his neck to look back at him. His cold eyes thawed just enough to give Johnny a reassuring look.“If you don’t cut it, I’m going to let it keep growin’ and I’ll look like one of them hippies.”
Johnny laughed at the image. “You’d make a real swell lookin’ hippie.”
Dally glared at him, “Don’t even joke about that, Johnnycake. Now you’re cutting my hair whether you like it or not.”
“I dunno, what if I mess it up?” A greaser’s hair was the most important thing to them, being allowed to touch Dally’s hair was a privilege, let alone being able to cut it. And if he messed it up, he didn’t think Dally would ever forgive him.
“I’ll skin you,” Dally told him with no real bite. When Johnny just tensed, Dally turned around in the chair to face him, “Then I’ll have to let Darry at me with his razor.” Dallas wasn’t soft, but with Johnny, he thawed just a little. “Chill out, you got steady hands.”
Dally turned around, presenting Johnny with his hair. Swallowing nervously, Johnny lifted the switchblade up. He tugged a strand of Dally’s hair taught. And started to saw through it with the blade. It was freshly sharpened and cut through the hair easily. As the first wisps of hair fell to the ground, Johnny let his shoulders fall.
It was almost meditative. Not many people got to touch Dally like this, to change how he looked. The trust sat heavily on Johnny’s shoulders, but it was a comfortable weight.
Johnny cut a few more strands before Dally spoke up. “First time I got arrested in New York, the cops shaved my head. They thought it would make me stop being a greaser.” Dally laughed humorlessly. “Only made me more of one. It toughened me up. The next time I got caught by the cops, I didn’t let them take me far, didn’t let them near my hair.”
Johnny was thankful he didn’t have to look Dally in the eyes. He imagined neither of them wanted to share vulnerable eye contact at that moment. Quiet moments like this with Darry were rare, but treasured.“My mom did the same thing.”
Dally was still, like stone. “I didn’t know that.”
“No one does, not even Ponyboy,” Johnny admitted. “Except you now. It was before I knew you. I’d just met Darry and Soda and…” Johnny swallowed thickly. “My parents didn’t like them one bit, they didn’t like greasers, still don’t. So my mom held me down and shaved my head until it was only fuzz.” Johnny let more of Dally’s hair fall between his fingers. “I ran to Mrs. Curtis and she just held me until I stopped crying. She didn’t tell no one what happened, Mr. Curtis gave me an old hat of Darry’s to wear until it got long again.”
Dally was silent for a long moment, but Johnny wasn’t nervous. Dally might seem rough, but he never was with Johnny, not when he was baring his heart like this. Johnny could hear the smirk in Dally’s voice as he said, “And now you got the best hair of all of us.”
Johnny snorted, “Soda’ll beat your ass if he heard you say that.”
“I would beat him easily,” Dally said with a buzz of his lips. “But we all know I’m right.”
As more and more of Dally’s hair collected on the floor, Johnny found comfort in silence. Unlike him and Ponyboy, he and Dally didn’t ever just sit in silence. But Johnny decided it was nice. Having Dally nearby made him feel comfortable. Not many people could say that, probably three in the whole world.
Dally’s gruff nature offered safety to those he cared about. He was a snarling guard dog, ready to rip anyone apart who threatened the people he loved. More often than not, it was Johnny. When they were younger, Mr. Curtis always called him Dally’s little shadow. It was still true.
“I’m sorry the cops did that to you,” Johnny told him quietly. He gently brushed the fallen hair off of Dally’s shoulders.
He watched Dally force himself not to tense up. “Me too. But it made me toughen up, fight back even harder. No one’s cut my hair since then, not unless I let them.” Not unless I trust them .
Johnny didn’t know how to respond to that. Dally wasn’t like this, he wasn’t vulnerable. If he drew attention to it, Dally was likely to draw back into himself. Thankfully, Dally said something instead. “I’m sorry your ma did that to you too.”
“It’s more than just hair,” Johnny said softly.
“It is.” Dally agreed. “Wearing our hair like this tells everyone that we don’t care what they think. It sets us apart. What’s a greaser without their hair?”
“I ain’t ever wanna know,” Johnny told him softly.
“You never will,” Dally growled, an oath. Johnny looked over the hair again, running his fingers across the strands to make sure they were the same length. He didn’t know if that’s how you did it with Dally’s kind of hair, but that’s how Darry cut Soda’s.
“It’s done.” Johnny closed the switchblade and handed it to Dally. The older greaser reached down to lift the hand mirror up. Johnny could see his eyes in the reflection as he assessed the work Johnny did. He ran a hand over his hair. And then he smiled.
“It looks good, Johnnykid. Congrats, you’re my barber now.”
“Can I get a nickel then?” Johnny asked. He held out his hand expectantly.
Dally flipped him off, “I’ll keep letting you tag along with me, how ‘about that?”
“Sounds just fine to me.” Johnny leaned down and wrapped his arms around Dally’s shoulders. It was a gesture of affection that he wouldn’t normally try on Dally, but their conversation left him feeling bold. Dally must have felt the same, because he boosted Johnny up into a piggy-back ride.
“Hold on tight, it’s not my fault if you crack your skull,” Dally told him.
Johnny did as he was told with a wide smile. He’d let Dally carry him wherever he wanted.