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Ponyboy was done. So done. All he had was a C on a math test that wasn't even going to do jack to his average, and that was enough for Darry to erupt in flames.
Well, maybe “erupt” is a bit of an overstatement, given that their arguments have improved, but still. Ponyboy would still pull by with a 92 (Safe to say he was mortified at first, but felt much better when one of his friends helped him calculate his average). He was pissed enough by the grade himself anyway and didn’t need Darry adding fuel to the fire.
It’s pretty quiet in the Curtis house. Soda’s hanging out with Steve at who-knows-what while Darry is reading the newspaper, lounging on the couch after a day at work. Things are peaceful nowadays. Sure, they stay tight on money and Ponyboy is rapidly outgrowing his jeans, but no one's scared anymore. The shadow of violence has subsided in Tulsa.
He’s doing homework at the dinner table, school bag on the side of the chair, pockets ajar and ready for use. The red circled C sticks out of Pony’s backpack as he takes out his homework, but he’s not too worried about it. His grade is barely affected after all.
Then, in a fabulous turn of events, Darry stands up to go refill his cup of water, and passes by the right side of the dinner table, where Pony’s backpack’s contents are in full sight. The red C sticks out like a sore thumb, and all of a sudden Darry is laying into him about how that C could impact his college chances.
Okay, to be honest, Ponyboy’s just exaggerating. Darry was really nice about it. Strangely nice.
“Pony, you have to be careful. You’re a junior, and that’s already risky when you’re so far into the year.”
You have nothing to worry about , Ponyboy would have said. But Darry’s always worrying and he would’ve just sighed at the remark, which Pony doesn’t think he has the patience for. So all that comes out of his mouth is a resigned “okay” and returns to his homework.
Really, he’s fuming on the inside. So that night, instead of sleeping, he waits for the signal of small rocks thrown against his bedroom window. Soda is, you guessed it, still out with Steve and probably Dallas and Johnny, so it’s just Ponyboy in the bed tonight. When the clink! clink! is heard, Ponyboy practically jumps out of the window, a grin forming on his face when he sees the source of the sound, who raises her eyebrows in intrigue: Harper Matthews.
They met in the honors classes last year, and have only gotten closer since. Now that times have changed and the Greaser-Soc rift has blended, Harper finds herself juggling between a wealthy, Soc-y circle of girls and Angela Shephard’s nightmare troupe. In the middle lies Ponyboy. All in all, she’s quite popular and hopes to make something out of the Matthews name after her brother Two-Bit so horrendously tarnished it.
Bonded by being broke and smart -- and their siblings, Harper and Ponyboy have known of each other for most their lives, but never fully talked until they were in high school. Ponyboy was drawn to her because of the way she was always prepared to argue and fight for herself, and Harper because she saw him right-hook a guy at the DX and read out a passage of the book they were reading in English with such melody and enthusiasm-- all in one day. Of course, Ponyboy gets into significantly less scuffles now that junior year is in full swing.
Since then, they’ve sneaked out in the dead of night every week. They talk briefly at school, planning their meetings during class. By the pond behind Harper's run-down house, they talk, share poems, share songs, study, and occasionally, with her kalimba that Two-Bit stole two years ago from a thrift store during a road trip (when times weren't so hard), Harper will serenade him. Whenever her brother accuses them both of dating, Harper plays it off coolly, and Ponyboy follows suit. He never considered her as any more than a close friend, and was convinced she felt the same way.
Ponyboy thinks of Harper as a smarter version of Curly Shepard, never scared of picking a (civil) fight but always ready to back herself up with plenty of ammo. He’s joked to her that she should become a lawyer, but she waves him off, saying “I’m too broke for law school.”
Ponyboy doesn’t like that answer, because it could be true for him too, and he doesn’t like being reminded of the looming possibility that he might not make it to college. That he might not get his brothers out of this broken town. That he might not make a name for himself simply because the Curtis name has been dealt the wrong cards over and over again.
But Harper can read him like a book, can see how it casts a dark shadow onto his expression, so she jabs him in the arm and says “Don’t think you won’t make it, you’ve got that track scholarship coming up.”
That’s true, but what about her? He wants both of them to make it out. Together.
As friends. They'll make it out of this poor town and get their families into the city and make each other famous. "Just friends," he'd tell his own classmates if they ever teased about him and Harper's friendship.
But he’s not sure if friends should make you giddy with an ache in your chest. If your breath should catch every time they catch your stare. If you feel a warmth in your cheeks every time you two are together, alone -- which is happening to him as he takes in her presence. That night, as they’re walking to the nearby pond, Ponyboy can’t help but notice how close their hands are when they’re walking together. If only they could just get a little closer-
No. That’s stupid, he thinks. Harper’s probably thinking about that awful thing of a math test they took, not how close they’re walking. But then Pony looks at her as they situate themselves on a patch of grass scattered with trees, and can’t look away. He’s looking at how she furrows her eyebrows at a bug on her arm, the purse of her lips, the scar on the underside of her chin that she got from scuffling with her brother Two-Bit, how the moonlight casts itself upon her dark hair and beauty-marked tan skin that’s characteristic of the Matthews siblings, and how her eyes squint at the pest and slowly move their way up to-
Oh crap. She catches him staring, but says nothing. His stomach feels like it's on a roller coaster. Not that he’s ever been on one since six years ago at the county fair when his parents were alive, but the imagery is useful in his creative writing assignments. There’s a flip that turns into a churning ache lying deep inside his chest, eating away at the rest of their conversations.
“…and then I stood up, picked up the sandwich, and marched over to that scum’s table where I clocked his face with that slop. Safe to say he won’t throw anything at us anytime soon.” Harper was talking about lunchtime that day. Something about one of his friends throwing his lunch at one of her friends. Screw around and find out, he thinks. “I hope your friends don’t do something like that to mine, 'cause I wouldn’t hesitate booking that stuff at full speed.”
“‘Course not. I don’t think any of them would wanna go near you, and not just because you’re Two-Bit’s sister” Ponyboy says, feeling a sense of pride as Harper breaks into a Cheshire cat’s grin.
“Aw, you think too highly of me” she says, then continues onto her next story. Ponyboy gazes at her, wondering if maybe, just maybe , he inched his hand closer to hers, close enough for his pinky to loop over hers. He takes a daring glance at her lips, which are pinker and glossier than usual, before averting his eyes.
“What’s got your boxers in a twist?”
He’s immediately snapped out of his trance at Harper’s sudden vulgar question. “What?” He blinks twice, lips ajar.
“I don’t know man. You’ve just been making that face with your eyebrows knitted together. Also you were way more excited to get out of that house. Normally you take, like, five minutes to gather your bearings and stagger out of the window like an old man. Am I that awesome~?” She says with a tilt of her head, raising her eyebrows teasingly. Ponyboy feels his words die in his throat when she looks at him like that, and he desperately racks his brain for a pathetic excuse.
“Darry chewed me out for that math test we took last week. I don’t understand what he’s so worried about.” Thank you Darry, Ponyboy thinks.
Harper leans back, face relaxing. “Yikes. You’ve didn’t do so hot?”
He shakes his head. “Seventy-eight. Kind of ridiculous if you tell me. What did you get?” He’s confident that the test was hard for everyone. Even the seniors were complaining about it.
But that confidence fizzles away when Harper narrows her eyes and smiles. “Ninety five.”
“You’re lying.”
“I would be if I didn’t cheat. Not my fault you refused my help. I still learn either way.” She shrugs her shoulders.
Ponyboy gasps, “Harper!”
“Shhh,” she says, holding up her index finger dangerously close to Ponyboy’s lips. “Ain’t no one‘s gonna find out.” She says with a smug grin. As Harper launches into another story, Ponyboy recollects himself from what had just happened.
He could still feel the air flowing from his exhale stop against her finger, and wonders, if she brought it a little closer-
Ponyboy climbs back into bed at one in the morning, his ribs sore from laughing and slides comfortably into the covers. His previous irritation from the math grade is gone, replaced by a deep, warm feeling in his chest.
The bedroom door creaks open and stumbling in is Soda, who immediately looks at Ponyboy.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” He asks, his face twisting into worry as he imagines the possibility that Pony may have had a nightmare without him by his side for comfort. But his shoulders relax when he sees the content in Ponyboy’s eyes and the smile on his lips.
“Went out with Harper.” He says, not thinking much.
“You what?” Soda’s eyebrows shoot up. He knew they were friends, but wasn’t aware that they were in a relationship.
Ponyboy, realizing what Soda may have interpreted, sits upright. “It’s not like that! We just hang out by ourselves sometimes at night.”
A grin creeps up on Soda’s face, “So you’re telling me sneaking out with a girl by yourselves at night isn’t 'like that'?” He laughs in between words, and Pony can feel blood rushing upwards to his face. He hates that he doesn't know what to say. Instead, Ponyboy says in a small voice:
“I wish it was.”
Soda stops laughing immediately and crawls over to Ponyboy’s side. “Wait, for real? You like her?”
Ponyboy slumps before falling back onto the bed and nods. “Whenever we’re together, she makes me feel really nice but also nervous. I always wonder what we would be like if we were dating. I’ve been looking at her a lot lately too. Her face, her hair, I just keep noticing everything about her... I sound like a creep, don’t I.”
Soda’s silent for a moment, taking in Ponyboy’s mini rant. His chest heaves as he lets out a long exhale, and Ponyboy tenses up.
“Shoot kid, you’re whipped. And it would only be creepy if you were twenty, so no.”
Pony runs a hand down his face and lets out a groan. When he closes his eyes, all that appears is Harper’s dark brown hair that flows in soft, numerous waves, just stopping after her shoulders. He’s always wanted to touch it, which sounds weird but damn does she have beautiful hair. All he can think about is seeing her tomorrow at school, her playful eyes peering into his with adorably quirked up eyebrows. It’s the only thing that lulls him to sleep. He’s screwed.
Once the lunch bell rings, Ponyboy packs up his books and makes his way to the vending machine, where Harper is. Her hip is propped up on one side, her arms crossed together and eyes narrowed in frustration. Ponyboy silently enters his drink order in, and humorously copies her pose. He purposefully ignores Harper’s side-eye, and her drink comes out first not too long after.
Ponyboy snatches the cold can, which feels like lead in his hands.
“Hey! Give that back!” Harper lunges towards him, which ends in epic failure since Ponyboy has a good nine inches on her and his hands have a good sixteen when they’re raised up. He makes a show of passing the can between his hands behind his back, Harper shuffling right and left and caging her arms around his waist only for the can to be held high above her head. Ponyboy's eyes crinkle in delight as they both laugh. With a final pout, Harper jumps as high as she can without getting the other students’ attention and for a split second her chest is parallel to his. There’s a sudden warmth that’s radiating off of themselves. Ponyboy can feel her hand grazing his arm and also can feel her arm against his and feel her breath against his skin and he goes very still.
I’m sixteen , he thinks, I can’t be a wuss about this . But before he can say anything, he looks down to see Harper shove another can in his face.
His drink.
Ponyboy, without thinking, drops Harper’s can and reaches for the one in her arms. She may not have his long limbs, but she is crazy agile. Harper rotates her body left and right, taking steps sideways and backwards. Her laughter is like bells to his ears as he fumbles taking turns reaching his arms around her to get his Coke. It’s been seconds, or maybe minutes that they’re in this peculiar tango together, but it ends when Harper takes a fatal step back, landing her back leaning flush against the vending machine.
And Ponyboy halts inches away from her face, his elbows slamming into the space above her head to steady himself from the previous momentum. His chest is heaving, and he can hear hers doing the same.
Slowly, he looks down at Harper, who is staring right into his green eyes. Her arms are still locked behind her, guarding his drink, and her eyes are searching, prodding for an unsaid word in his own.
It’s combustive, how the minimal space between their bodies is heating up. Ponyboy is locked in place, dumbfounded. Move, he tells himself, and he does so slowly, clearing his throat and turning away for a brief moment. Most of the students have already made their way to the field or the cafeteria, and it’s just them two in the hallway. He can feel Harper’s eyes boring themselves into his back, drilling holes into his conscience. He hears her tch, followed with her combat boots clacking against the floor, knowing Ponyboy’s going to follow. And he does, but his mind is somewhere else as the mini Darry angel on his right shoulder scolds him during their walk to the cafeteria.
Really, Ponyboy? Cornering a girl like that?
Meanwhile, the mini Soda devil on his left shoulder is scolding him for a different reason.
Nice going Pony'. Now your chances of getting together are next to zero.
Instead of walking over to the pond, Harper leads him to her house.
Well more specifically, her bedroom window.
It’s been two days since their exchange at the vending machine, and things seem to be running normal since. Well, except for the fact that tonight they’re going to her room instead of stopping by the pond.
Bells are ringing in Ponyboy’s head, but he shuts them down. They talk everything about nothing until Harper goes silent as she climbs through the window and into her room.
She drops to her floor in front of her bed, and Ponyboy sits himself two feet across from her, waiting. It’s at this moment that he realizes just how much he’s relied on Harper to handle the conversations. It’s not that he doesn’t care (quite the opposite, actually) but he’s been more of an observer and never feels like he has much to share. Then Harper starts talking and that's usually enough to get him out of his shell.
But she doesn’t. Harper stares downwards, not exactly at the floor but not meeting Ponyboy’s eyes either. There’s always something on her mind, but it’s usually fleshed out in her own chatter. This time, silence settles over themselves, more heavily on her. Ponyboy realizes that he has to say something this time, because it’s clear there is something eating away at her.
“Hey,” she raises her head to make eye contact for the first time since Ponyboy left his house. “What’s up?” He asks sincerely, meeting her gaze.
Luckily that look is enough to loosen her up just the slightest. Harper’s shoulders straighten as she looks away again.
“Dunno. Felt kinda lousy today.” She mumbles. That isn’t right.
It’s at this moment that Ponyboy realizes it’s his turn to step up, to take the initiative, which is long overdue. Something is wrong, and he doesn’t know how bad it is but he’ll be damned if he let her go further like this. So Ponyboy scoots closer, their knees less than half a feet away from touching.
“Tell me what’s wrong” Ponyboy says, and Harper jerks her eyes back at him. He’s never sounded so sure of himself, yet so caring it makes her ache. Her body caves in, making the distance between them smaller.
“Sometimes, I just don’t like who I am, you know?” She gazes tentatively, waiting for a reaction. Ponyboy’s shocked but doesn’t let it reach his face. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t think I’m cool, but I just wish people would stop labeling me as the 'greaser girl', the one who does all the dirty work. It’s cool sometimes, ‘cause sometimes I’m hailed as some sort of hero. But it got me feeling real lousy today but then again I kind of brought it onto myself and...” she trails off as if in shame at her own rambling, which is starkly unlike of her.
Ponyboy furrows his eyebrows, “Did something happen?”
Harper groans, running her hands down her face and squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s not even that serious. I don’t know why I’m so worked up about it.”
“Shoot, it don’t matter if it’s serious or not.”
Harper peeks one eye through her fingers, making direct eye contact with Ponyboy, who has his elbows propped up and hands holding up his chin, his eyes attentive and patient.
“I was hanging out with the Socs today at study hall in the library and there was a spider.”
Harper wasn’t afraid of a lot of stuff. She could pick up almost anything except for alcohol, and saved her teachers the hassle of getting unwelcome critters out the windows. Ponyboy knew this, and remained silent.
“They were all freaking out, which is kind of stupid but whatever, you know? I didn’t mind helping them out. Usually they all thank me like I'm doing charity - hell, that’s what gets me a seat at the table” she continues, and Ponyboy can hear a slight waver in her voice. Still, he knows she’s not done yet, and nods, never breaking his gaze on her.
“I was going to take care of it, until one of the girls shouted-“ she pauses, “‘let the greaser girl do it.’”
Ponyboy sucks in air through his teeth, cringing. Harper takes it as a sign to go on.
“And I- well, I was damn livid. I stopped and just left them with the spider to freak out about” she said. Harper heaves, exhaling deeply before continuing, “She told me I was just there as a stooge.”
“‘The hell” Ponyboy mutters under his breath. Harper stopped looking into his eyes a while ago, instead staring vacantly at something that just wasn’t his eyes. He sees the gloss in them and Harper’s trembling frame, yet she is still trying her hardest to not let it show.
“It’s so stupid,” she says before sniffling once, like it’s her only free pass that she’s just used up, “I don’t even know why I care-“
Her next words are muffled by Ponyboy’s chest shoved into her face. He had pulled her in, resting his chin on top of her head and both arms splaying across her back. Ponyboy moves one of his hands up to cup the back of her head, and such contact from someone who was usually so shy doesn't go unnoticed by Harper. It breaks the dam, tears soaking Ponyboy’s track shirt at a rapid pace. He's pretty sure she can feel his heart beating a million times per minute, and their sudden closeness renders him speechless.
He feels Harper move her hand to grip at his back, burying her head impossibly deeper into his chest. Slowly, they roll back together until Ponyboy is lying on the ground, pressing Harper close to him. She gingerly lifts her head, still staring ahead at the 'TRACK A TEAM" logo on his off-white shirt.
“ hic - Sorry I- hic don’t even know” she breathes, shuddering, “why I’m even- hic crying it’s so stupi- hic hell.” Ponyboy meets Harper’s eyes as she gathers the courage to look up, and they’re so damn beautiful he wants the deep brown in them to swallow him whole. He's too dumb right now to say a word after pulling her into that hug.
Eventually Harper quiets, and so does Ponyboy’s heartbeat. They settle like sand falling to the seafloor after it has been kicked up in the water, sinking into place.
Slowly, Harper untangles her arms from Pony’s and reaches around her room for her prized possession: her kalimba.
He gazes at her while laying down, the tiredness of the night briefly catching up to the both of them. Harper begins playing a tune, and it would have lulled Ponyboy to sleep if it weren’t for the angel striking the notes. She settles cross legged next to Pony, who twists his torso so he has a better view of her face while lying flat on the ground.
She glances at him, bashfully. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“‘M not lookin’ at anything” he drawls, which is an obvious lie but Harper resumes her playing.
Ponyboy can't believe he hasn’t been doing this sooner, but he’s committing every little detail on herself to memory. His gaze dances from the curly strand of hair across her face, her deep brown eyes, the pout in her lips. It's like a rare gem, seeing Harper, who has built such a hardened exterior, be so vulnerable. He thinks about how the two of them look like a couple sitting like this in a small room, and Pony wants nothing more except to hold her close and-
“I got something on my face?”
The confidence in Harper’s voice returns, and if it weren’t for her puffy and reddish eyes, you wouldn’t have been able to tell she had been crying. Ponyboy, again, is struck dumb.
“I- uh, no. Nothing.” He musters, trying to look somewhere that isn’t her eyes or lips. He sits up and stretches, facing away from Harper so he can recollect himself. There’s a shuffle behind him, and when he turns around, Harper is less than a foot away from him, her steely gaze a bottomless pit.
“Mmm, no. You’ve been acting kinda wack lately. I mean that vending machine incident was pretty funny, but you’ve just been…”
Ponyboy is tuning out her words, though he can manage to hear her talking about how he’s been staring into space way more often with a stupid smile on his face during class.
His priority right now is Don’t. Look. Down. He looks at her left cheek, but then he imagines his hands cupping them and might scream if he doesn’t look somewhere else. There’s a curly strand of hair in front of her face, which is a good spot. Until he thinks about carding his hands through her thick hair and might shove his face into the ground. Luckily, Harper moves it out of her face.
Unluckily, Ponyboy has nowhere else to look without selling himself out, so he stares at the space between her eyes and above her nose, which inevitably leads his gaze to her eyes. Suddenly, her eyes are all that he can see and-
“Ponyboy.”
Oh crap.
Her face is inches away from his and boy is it making his face hot. He’s quite frankly mortified because what if she thinks I’m a freak? Does she know? She’s going to shove me and kick me out. Hell, send Two-Bit after my throat. For his last look before doom, Ponyboy takes a glance at her lips for a split second.
He feels two warm palms press on his cheeks, and Harper presses her lips to his for a moment. Their noses bump, it’s harsh, it’s also kinda loud, and in the next moment she’s pushed herself away from him, her chest heaving and face flushed crimson. Her eyes are averted and her legs are stretched out in front of herself to keep as much distance as possible.
Ponyboy just stares, raising his hand to feel his lips lightly because did that just happen?
“Sorry.” Her voice has dropped an octave and her words are short and guttural, “I- uh, screwed up. Hand slipped. 'twas an accident. You should leave.”
Ponyboy’s heart drops at the last three words. Then he realizes that they’re in her room and relaxes. Gently, he reaches for Harper’s hand and pulls her in, his hand cupping her jaw.
There aren’t sparks flying or any of the sort, but Ponyboy’s become hyperaware of what Harper is doing. He fixates on every single point of contact. They kiss slowly, and when Harper slides her hand to his back and traces it along Ponyboy’s spine, he can’t help but let out a sigh. It’s almost unfair how much control Harper has, or has been having over Ponyboy. They roll back again, Ponyboy’s back propped up by her bed and Harper following suit.
Eventually Harper pulls away, and Ponyboy is too distracted by the sight. Her bright pink swollen lips match with the shade of blush that has taken over her cheeks and nose. He can only imagine how much worse he looks. Harper rests her head against the crook of Pony’s neck, and slumps her body against his. He’s shocked by the sudden weight, but relaxes and mindlessly cards a hand through her thick curly hair. He relishes the feeling, realizing how much he has been waiting to do this. Harper lets out a gentle sigh that rolls off in a wave, and the both of them stay like that for a bit.
“Do you have to go?” Harper’s words cause a vibration at the base of Pony’s neck, and man does it do something to him. He waits a second to compose himself before responding.
“I don’t want to.”
Really, I should go because Darry will kill me is what he should’ve said, but his throat can’t find to muster the words. It’s well over midnight, and his brothers are convinced he’s asleep. Well, except Soda. They share a room, after all.
“Hm, good. Two-Bit’ll tell him” he hears her say.
Before Ponyboy can say anymore, he hears a soft rise and fall of Harper’s breath, a telltale sign that sleep has caught up, and it’s going for him next as well.
It feels surreal. He feels surreal. But the changing pressures of her chest against his as she breathes, her heartbeat against his, the slight scratchiness on his skin where her chin’s rested because of her scar, and the air blowing against his neck from her exhales, reminds him that everything is very, very real. And it’s like all he’s ever known.