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I was running but I didn’t care where I was going. Not really. I was just in desperate need to cry in a safe place and mull over what just happened.
Darry had hit me. Darry had never hit anyone before. I didn’t understand why he was so enraged. I had stayed out late before and he never got this mad. Just a little annoyed that I didn’t tell him I would be out so late.
Before I realized it, I had stopped running and was slowing to a walk. I had no idea where I was, but I didn’t care. I didn’t know when I’d be back home, but I knew Soda and Darry would come looking for me anyway.
Without realizing where I was, I sat down and leaned my head up against the wall behind me. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard someone say, “Hi,” right next to my ear. I whipped my head around to see Johnny sitting next to me.
“Johnny! You scared the daylights outta me!” I exclaimed.
“Sorry Ponyboy,” he said, sheepishly.
“It’s alright. I guess I’m just a little shaken, that's all,” I said.
“From what?” he asked.
That was the thing about Johnny. He was the kind of person you felt like you could talk to about anything and he would understand, especially in my case. He came from a troubled home that didn’t want him anyway so I figured he could deal with anything that came his way. Even being smacked across the face.
So I recounted the whole story to him and he just nodded along, listening to every word I said.
I was crying by then and I didn’t know what to do. I was embarrassed because just a couple of hours ago, I was having the best day of my life and now I was crying in the middle of an alleyway, sitting next to Johnny, who has been way more humiliated and tortured than me. I knew that even at that exact moment, Johnny would’ve given anything to have my life. It seemed like a utopia to him. I had a loving family and a brother who cared about how late I came home, while he had a family who hated his guts and didn’t care if he lived or died. If I were in his shoes I would want my life too.
“Oh,” he said after a while. “I… I would say I understand but my parents ignore me for the most part and only ever hit me on the rare occasion that they talk to me so, I don’t know how to help.”
“I guess I was just talkin',” I said. “ I don’t think I need help. I just think that I needed to mull over what happened.”
“Are you gonna go back? To your house, I mean,” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “I don’t want to, but I have to at some point. I guess maybe I should head back now?” I said, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb.
I looked back at Johnny to realize that he had turned paperwhite. When I looked back behind me I realized why, and I started to shake. It was the blue Mustang. The same blue Mustang that had picked up Marcia and Cherry. The same blue Mustang that had pulled up right before the Socs jumped Johnny and beat him near to death. I curled up in a ball, real tight, and sunk into the shadows, hoping they wouldn’t see us. I should’ve known by then that they always see us because they pulled up right beside the alleyway and hopped out of the car.
“Whaddya know, fellas,” said a Socs with way too many rings. I recognized him as Bob, the guy who beat Johnny half to death. “What’re you Greasers doin’ out here this late at night?”
I was tempted to say, ‘Right back atcha,’ but I figured that wouldn’t be smart, so I held my tongue.
“None of your business,” Johnny said in such a steady voice he could’ve fooled you if you didn’t know he was scared out of his wits.
“Oh-ho!” Bob said to his pack of zombies. “Little boys’ got some nerve built up in him since last I saw him. Say, little boy, how’d you like me to beat it back out again, huh?”
“No thanks,” Johnny said, fingering the switchblade in his back pocket.
“ ‘Fraid you don’t got no choice,” Bob’s lackey, Randy said with a menacing grin. His teeth were perfectly white and shiny.
Randy advanced on him and grabbed a fistful of his hair in one hand and yanked him up with the other. He pulled out a knife; an Asticus by the looks of it, with a razor-sharp blade and a sturdy handle.
He pressed Johnny up against the wall, the blade to his throat. Johny made a whimpering sound and looked like he was about to cry. I would’ve done something to help him but I was frozen in fear. Randy pressed the blade closer to Johnny’s throat. I could see the red start to leak from the cut. I saw the maniacal look in Bob’s eyes as Johnny cried out in pain.
Even though they were less than 5 feet away from me, my ears didn’t seem to be working. I could tell that Johnny was in pain but I couldn’t hear him screaming.
Before I knew it, I was up off the ground, my hands wrapped around Randy’s wrist.
“Get away from him,” I said, my tone dangerously serious. “Get away from him before I have to use that knife against you.”
“That’s some big talk from such a little kid,” Bob taunted. “You gonna get yourself hurt someday. Maybe even now.” He snapped his fingers and two of the zombies advanced on me.
They shoved me against the wall and pulled out another blade. I panicked and twisted to wriggle myself free of their grip, but they held firm. I yelled out for help, but one of them clamped a hand around my mouth. I bit down hard until I tasted blood. He yanked his hand back and yelped.
“Idiot,” Bob mumbled. “Guess I have to do it myself.” He grabbed me by the throat and shoved me up against the wall again. I clawed at his hands as he lifted me higher.
Randy had loosened his grip on Johnny and I desperately wanted him to make a run for it while he still could, leave me behind, and go get help, but I couldn’t say anything. I could feel myself blacking out and I couldn’t fight it. Bob’s grip was too strong, and so was Randy’s. He must’ve realized that his grip was loosening because he turned back to Johnny and grinned again, pressing the knife deeper into Johnny’s skin. More blood spilled over the edge of the knife and splattered onto the ground.
My vision was starting to go fuzzy and black at the edges. I knew I couldn’t hold on for long but I had to fight. I couldn’t let Bob kill me.
I kicked as hard as I could but I was starting to lose feeling in my body and my kick turned into a tiny little flail that didn’t phase Bob at all.
Randy had the knife deeper into Johnny’s throat now and blood was dripping onto the ground in a steady flow. I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t let go now, even if I wanted to.
I reached my hand up as high as I could, and with all the strength I could muster, punched Bob in the nose. He staggered back a little but not long enough to let me go. I punched him again and he staggered back a little more. ‘If I can just rip his hands off my throat, I’ll be able to get away,’ I thought, vaguely. I reached up one more time because by then I could barely think. I punched him as hard as I could and heard a deafening crack. He yelped and jumped back from me as I fell to the ground. I gasped for air.
Randy glanced over at Bob with concern but Bob waved him off. Randy pressed the blade deeper into Johnny’s neck and I could tell there wasn’t much time left for him. I tried to get up but because of the hypoxia, I fell back down.
Johnny screamed in pain and then went limp. ‘Oh no,’ I thought ‘Johnny…’
Randy finally let go and Jonny fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Finally, Bob stood up and with a grunt, told his lackeys that they were done and got back into the car. I ran over to Johnny.
“C’mon Johnny,” I said, shaking him. “Wake up. You’re stronger than this. Get up! Please!” I was crying again. It was too soon. He couldn’t be… No! I refused to believe it. Johnny couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t!
“Get up! Please! C’mon Johnnycake! Please!” I screamed. I was bawling by then. I couldn’t contain myself but I didn’t have to. The only person I was with was dead so no one was there to judge me.
I sat there over his body and bawled for a while.
When I finally stopped crying, I had come to terms with everything, and I knew that Johnny was gone. He would never come back.
-------------------------------------------------
As I walked back to the house, covered in blood, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Johnny’s face right before he died. Cold and painful, but most of all, sorrowful. He was only sixteen and no one thought that it would be how a greaser was taken out. We were all just as strong as the Socs and just as big. They didn’t have anything on us and we didn’t have anything on them. We were equals in everything except status and money.
When I got back, the porch light was still on. ‘Darry must’ve forgotten to turn it off.’ I thought. I opened the door and the first thing I saw was Soda.
He was sitting in the armchair in the corner near the kitchen. Darry was asleep on the couch next to him. When he looked up at me with concern in his eyes, I lost it. I sunk to the ground and bawled my eyes out. Soda came over and hugged me and we sat there for the rest of the night, just like that. Me in Soda’s embrace, while he silently mourned with me.