Chapter Text
Oklahoma seemed to pass Johnny by in a blur. He had planned to fall asleep on the drive from Altus to Tulsa, but the red rolling hills of Oklahoma pulled him in and he stared at the blur of the state he had been living in for the last 16 years. He was three hours in to the three and a half hour drive, and he tapped his fingernail against his leg anxiously. Oklahoma hadn’t done much for him so far, he thought bitterly.
“Now Johnny,” His social worker started. Her name was Mary or Barbara or something like that, and Johnny didn’t listen to much she had to say. He decided he hated her from the moment they met. “You better be on your best behaviour for your new family, but this is a temporary placement. It’s just until we can find you somewhere that’s permanent.”
Johnny fought the urge to roll his eyes. She was so obtuse he wanted to laugh. Of course he would be on his “best behaviour”, he had spent the last 16 years of his life living with his deadbeat dad that would beat him if he didn’t.
“Yes ma’am.” He mumbled, staring at his hands. His fingernails were bitten down to the quick, but he still chewed on his thumbnail as the sunset continued to smear the sky with pink, red, and gold.
Tulsa was nice, supposedly. Nicer than Altus. Anything would be better than living at home. The bruises on his back and face were finally starting to fade from the last time he saw his old man, and he picked at a scab on his bare arm. Before “the accident” (as his social worker called it), Johnny would cover up his injuries, as nobody in town knew about his dad and word travelled fast, but after there was nothing to hide. His dad was in prison anyway, after all that had happened.
Anne or Betty or whoever it was in the drivers seat kept talking, but Johnny wasn’t listening. He was looking at the streets that whizzed by his window. Tulsa. It wasn’t what he expected, really. He expected nice houses and manicured lawns and nice cars, but through the glass he saw broken windows and black eyes and boys smoking cigarettes on curbs. It was almost comforting, the camaraderie of it all. They were the type of boys who stuck up for each other, who got stomped on and stomped right back. Johnny watched a boy in an alleyway as they were stopped at a red light, punching the brick until his hands bled, and Johnny wondered how much better his life would be at the same time as revelling in the familiarity of split knuckles. Soon enough the car stopped fully at a modest house and Johnny thought maybe he should’ve listened to his social worker, but the trash bag half-full of his stuff was already in his hands and he was walking up the front porch steps.
His social worker, who he remembered her name was Mary, rapped sharply on the door twice. The boy who opened the door couldn’t have been older than Johnny, but he was half a foot taller and bright as the sun. He had golden hair that was slicked back with grease and shining brown eyes that were creased around the edges from the grin that split his face.
“Is Darrel home?” Mary asked, an air of professionalism in her voice and posture. Johnny slouched down behind her like he was trying to hide.
“Yes ma’am. One second, I’ll go get him.” The blonde boy said, bounding off to go get whoever Darrel was. Johnny didn’t know there was going to be other kids at this placement, but at least he could show him the ropes- if he was a foster kid like Johnny. Darrel came to the door, along with blondie, and Johnny immediately knew that they were related. Darrel wasn’t his father though, he was far too young. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that were tanned and freckled from the sun. His hair was not greased but instead cut short and clean, and his eyes were as cold and as blue as ice. Johnny bit his lip and stared at his shoes.
“Evening ma’am.” Darrel drawled. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you Mr. Darrel Curtis?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Mary pulled Johnny out from hiding place behind her and pushed him forward. He kept his grip on his garbage bag tight and tried his best to curb anxiety. “This is Johnny Cade, the boy who will be staying with you for the next few weeks.” Weeks. Johnny thought. He could manage weeks. Darrel smiled briefly at Johnny before returning his attention to Mary.
“Yes ma’am. We’ve been expecting him. You can trust that he’s in good hands here. I’ve raised just about half the boys on the east side of Tulsa.” Darrel quipped half-heartedly, earning a tight-lipped smile from Mary.
“He’s all yours.” She replied lightly, before turning towards Johnny. “Call me if you need anything.” He only nodded, still keeping his lip between his teeth. She gave him a firm squeeze on his shoulder and left him alone with Darrel on the stoop.
“So,” Darrel cleared his throat, “Johnny, yeah? I’m Darry. I know you’re probably thinking I ain’t old enough to have a teenage son, the blonde you saw is my brother, Sodapop. He’s 16, same age as you.” Johnny wondered how much Darry knew about him.
“I have another brother, Ponyboy. He’s 13. He’s quieter than Soda.” Darry cleared his throat again, shifting his weight. Johnny wondered if he was nervous.
The house was older, but it was well-kept. The counters were clean and there was no clutter on the table. Johnny wondered how their house normally looked. “I can give you a tour, if you’d like?” Darry offered, looking at Johnny like he was a lost puppy. He nodded and followed the man around the house.
“This will be your room.” Darry pushed open a door to a room that was clearly someone else’s. There was a bulletin board on the wall and stacks of books and canvasses piled neatly. Pinned to the board were pictures that Johnny tried hard not to study. There was one of a horse, one of a dark haired boy who was scowling at the camera, and many of the blonde Johnny had seen before.
“Now, don’t worry ‘bout taking someone’s room, because Pony’s been sleeping in Soda’s room. It’s just me and my two brothers here.” Darry looked at him with a twinkle in his eye, catching Johnny completely off guard. “And you.”
Johnny didn’t try to smile back. He just looked down at the floor, trying to think of ways he could patch the hole in the toe of his tennis shoe. He hadn’t gotten new shoes in a while, and his were a couple sizes too small and made him look poor as all hell, which wasn’t untrue but also something he wasn’t keen on advertising to the world. He couldn’t decide whether or not he liked this Darry guy. He seemed nice enough, but people didn’t always stay the same. He needed to keep his guard up this time.
“Most of the drawers are empty,” Darry continued. “So you can put whatever clothes you have in there. I feel real sorry we can’t go out and get you anything new, but I’m sure there’s some old clothes of Soda’s that you can have.” Johnny nodded along as he talked, setting his trash bag down at the foot of the bed.
“Thank you.” Johnny mumbled, picking at the skin around his nails that was peeling off. The man looked at him for a second before clapping his hands together.
“Alright!” Darry said suddenly, loud enough that it made Johnny jump. “I’ll let you get settled, and supper’s at 7. I’ll let you get introduced to my kid brothers on your own time, and don’t be surprised if there’s some other hooligans runnin’ around; ‘bout half of east Tulsa bums around here.” With that, Darry left Johnny standing in the room alone, chewing on his fingernails.
Johnny wasn’t alone long though, because there was a knock on his door and as soon as he opened it a flash of blonde sunlight rushed into the room and stuck out his hand.
“Private Sodapop Curtis, at your service. Well, the army hasn’t gotten me yet, actually. But! That’s beside the point.” Johnny shook his hand quickly.
“Johnny.”
Soda laughed, spinning around him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Your folks stop at Johnny?”
“Cade.” He mumbled. “Johnny Cade.”
“Johnny Cake? That’s one sweet name, Johnnycake. Johnnycake,” He repeated after a few beats, contemplating, “I like that.”
Johnny didn’t have the heart to tell him it was Cade, but he wouldn’t have been able to anyways. Sodapop talked a blue streak. He continued to talk, looking anywhere but straight at Johnny, which was nice because he really didn’t like eye contact. It seemed like Sodapop didn’t either. He liked that.
“Anyways,” Sodapop sighed, “Things around here are pretty dull. Darry ain’t mean or anything, but he can be strict because he does got more worries than he oughta. You and Pony’ll get on, I think. I hope. Seems like you are both more quieter type people.” He got up off of the bed that Johnny was meant to sleep on (not his bed, never his bed) and walked toward the door.
“People say I’m too much. Do you think I’m too much?” Sodapop said genuinely, turning around and looking at Johnny in a way that he knew was supposed to feel like he was looking in his eyes. Johnny internally scolded himself for being too observant and tried his best to keep his voice from shaking as he answered Sodapop’s question.
“Nah. You ain’t too much.” Johnny mumbled. It was true. He was glad to have someone else to carry a conversation because he knew he couldn’t count on himself. Sodapop beamed and twirled out the door, but he stopped before he exited fully and looked right at Johnny, his eyes twinkling.
“Don’t be a stranger, Johnny Cade.”