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“Sodapop Curtis must be the prettiest boy this side of the Mississippi.”
“Man, that Sodapop Curtis sure is one doll, ain’t he?”
“Sodapop Curtis is pretty fine... for a greaser.”
“The Sodapop is something special.”
Soda had heard it all. There wasn’t a girl in all of Tulsa who hadn’t swooned over him. Hell, even Two-Bit's little sister had a crush on him for a couple weeks (even though him and Two-Bit both tried the hardest they could to crush that).
But that’s just talk. It doesn’t mean a thing if the girls look at him like he’s some exhibit and move down the line.
He screwed around in high school and every February 14th his locker would be overflowing with pink and red, but he was never really into it. He would flirt with the girls at the DX counter during the after-school rush and everything, but he was never really into it.
Soda has always been a romantic. Ever since first grade when him and Marianne Babin had gotten married on the playground after three weeks of playing house.
Eventually she had moved away and Darry would’ve sworn Soda had gotten stabbed with the way he seemed to go into mourning.
He’s been a romantic and he would stay that way. He’d never be into one-night stands or hooking up or any of that shit. He was looking for something deeper.
He was looking for a girl he could get married too.
Sometimes, he gets the idea that the reason he and Steve got so close was because he could be sure that when he caught Steve looking at him for too long, it wasn’t because he was admiring the way he looked. He’d just be admiring Soda.
That’s why Sandy was so special to him.
They’d go on dates and it’d be like she was another version of Steve, but he could take her out on a date and kiss her and drop her back off at home.
She would stare at him and he’d be sure it wasn’t an attempt to get in his pants.
Those rare times she did climb on his lap and they lost themselves, he could be sure she loved him for more than just that.
So, when she didn’t reach out when it hit the papers that Pony and Johnny were on the run, he was sure that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
She may not have known Johnny all that well but she had loved Pony almost as if he were her little brother. He didn’t need to invite Pony along everywhere, because half the time it would be her asking if he wanted to go out with them.
Any time it was a special day or a double date, she wouldn’t ask and neither would he, but if they were at the DX and decided to go out, the first move she’d make would be turning to Pony and asking, “You wanna come along?”
He hadn’t had too much brain power to waste thinking of what could be wrong with Sandy, though. His thoughts were a lot more focused on his little brother. The one who was on the run.
Probably scared out of his mind and definitely missing Soda. Missing both his brothers.
The letter that eventually comes blindsides him. When he finally sees her, he’s excited. Maybe her family just went on a trip and she didn’t want to rack up long-distance charges.
But she’s got this look on her face like the cop at the door did telling Darry about their parents.
“What’s wrong?”
And she looks like she’s gonna cry. She tells him the whole story, front to back. He can see the tears she’s biting back and he hates that his first instinct is to comfort her, when his entire world is crashing and burning.
“I’ll marry you!” he says, even as he knows there’s no room in either of their houses for a nursery and there ain’t enough money going in to spend on a baby. He reaches out and touches her arm and he can hear her breath hitch.
“Soda.” And he gets the idea that whatever she’s about to say is very, very bad. “It’s not yours.”
Just like that, the remnants of the world he’d built up in his head with her plummet straight to his feet and shatter into a million pieces. He still manages to speak through it.
“I’ll still marry you. I’ll help out. I’ll— I’ll get another job!”
Her face crumples but she pulls her hand away and she’s pausing at the door. “I loved you, Sodapop.” The past tense hurts more than it should and before he knows it, she’s in the car her mother is waiting in, and they’re driving off.
He doesn’t want to cry, but he dpoes. Worse than he had in a while.
He was a bit of a bawl baby but it took a lot for his body to be racked by sobs like how it was now.
He can barely breathe for how hard he’s crying by the time Steve pops up at the house.
He’s on the floor asking what’s wrong and, for a second, Soda wishes she’d wrote him a letter instead of sitting him down and talking with him about it, because then he wouldn’t have to explain.
The second the words come out of his mouth, it’s like it’s real. It ain’t one of those bad dream that leaves Pony screaming anymore, it’s something that actually just happened.
Steve lets him cry, he doesn’t try to talk to him and say it’s okay. He doesn’t say it’ll work out. He doesn’t say it’ll get better.
He just reaches out and strokes Soda’s hair, wordless reassurance.
It’s good not to hear meaningless words come at him for once. It’s nice to just feel like he has a reason to cry his eyes out.
It’s nice.
But he’s still got these chest-deep sobs tearing out of his throat.
It takes him too long to calm down. He feels ridiculous by the end of it, so he gets up, wishes Steve a good night, and he lays down.
It’s not even 6:00 yet, but he can feel his eyes slipping shut.
Right before he falls asleep, he catches a glimpse of Pony’s notebook, open to a blank page meant for a science assignment he had been supposed to be for days.
It’s easy enough to get up, sit down, and pick up a pencil.
The words come harder.
He writes until his wrist is sore, declarations of love and responsibility. Begging for her to give him a second chance, to talk to her parents.
He wants to imagine this is an assignment he’s doing at 9 in the morning in Mrs. Jones’ room, but it’s hard when Sandy’s name is glaring up at him from the top and his name is down at the bottom.
He climbs back into bed and he pulls his knees up. He falls asleep before Darry even gets home.
He dreams of Sandy and Pony in equal measure, waking up after each dream and falling asleep just to have another.
Eventually, he wakes up fully and puts his head in his hands.
Something in him had known she was different. That something turned out to be hope.
Something in him had known she didn’t see him as just another pretty face. He should’ve known better.
“Sodapop Curtis must be the prettiest boy this side of the Mississippi.”
And he knows, deep down inside, that that’s the only thing he ever will be.