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Ponyboy was nine years old the first time he met Paul Holden. Darry was home from practice. Their momma was working at some lady’s house, and his dad picked him up from his track practice.
”How was it?” his dad asked.
”I came in first in the heat,” Ponyboy reported.
“That’s my boy,” his dad said with a laugh. “Make any new friends?”
”No.”
Silence filled the car. “It’s alright,” Ponyboy said bravely. “I just skipped a grade as well. I’ll need to study hard to keep up.”
”I suppose you’re right,” his dad conceded, and there was a sadness in his voice Ponyboy hated.
Trying to change the subject, he cleared his throat. “Dad, doesn’t Darry start off-season training today?”
”Yeah, but a friend is gonna drop him off.”
Ponyboy was curious. “A friend’s parent?”
”No,” his dad said slowly. “His friend has his own car.”
Ponyboy blinkers “Darry is friends with Socs?”
”They’re just kids, Pony,” his dad reminded him.
Ponyboy bit back a response. The Socs were mean kids. They got home, and he read his library copy of the Hobbit. His momma came home, and kissed him on the head.
”Daddy says you had a good day at practice.”
”I did,” Ponyboy confirmed.
Soda didn’t have any after school activities, so Ponyboy assumed he was hanging out with his friends. Ponyboy was too young to join.
He read by the window, and then he saw a shiny car pull up. It stopped for a while, and curiously, Ponyboy went outside. The passenger door opened then and Darry got out.
“Darry!” Ponyboy called.
His brother flashed a smile but he looked slightly nervous, red creeping into his cheeks. He closed the door, and the driver’s door opened.
Ponyboy watched, book in hand as a boy in a polo got out. He raised his brows at Ponyboy.
“He’s a little young to be reading chapter books like the Hobbit, huh?”
“He’s a smart kid,” Darry said firmly.
“My brother is still reading comics and picture books.”
”Maybe mine is smarter than yours,” Darry responded with a raised brow.
The other boy pursed his lips, as if Ponyboy being intelligent was hard to comprehend.
”I told you he skipped a grade,” Darry added. “Not all Greasers are dumb, Paul.”
This was true, and yet this itched at Ponyboy’s skin. Soda struggled in school, and a lot of the kids in their community did. He and Darry were rarities, but Darry was trying to make it seem like they weren’t. Darry had something to prove, it seemed. Ponyboy didn’t think the Socs needed to approve their existence, and he found that he wanted to go back inside.
”Bye,” he said briefly, ‘cause his parents wanted him to have manners.
Then he turned around without further notice.
9 YEARS LATER
Ponyboy hummed under his breath as he chopped vegetables.
The rice was cooking in the pot next to him. His visit to the food pantry didn’t yield ready-to-eat foods. Paul was flabbergasted that Ponyboy was willing to go to the food pantry to get free ingredients to make a meal with.
”I’ve been poor my whole life, I don’t care who thinks I’m poor, ‘cause I am,” Ponyboy sighed.
Paul wasn’t very good at being grateful, and sometimes he questioned himself. Paul was a coward, who’d let him get bullied in the halls, who’d abandoned Darry when things got hard.
Paul had also been humbled by the world; honestly, humbled wasn’t even the best word. He’d been unable to resist his truth as a gay person, but he’d thought he’d be safer among fellow queers in own circles. He’d found the truth that they’d all always known: the Socs were cowards, and nothing would override that.
Ponyboy remembered Cherry. Sometimes he still talked with her, and Randy. They were nice, but they were also cowards. Cherry had made it clear she couldn’t acknowledge him in public. Randy had stood by as Bob and his other friends tormented Ponyboy. Kindness only went so far in the face of cruelty.
They were kind, and they were cowards; when shit like attempted murder happened, Ponyboy thought that it was for their own safety that the Socs’ cowardice be considered before their kindness.
Ponyboy was pretty sure Paul would’ve never agreed to meet him again, if Ponyboy didn’t lend him his portable charger with his number on it.
However, when he did, he was more responsive. Ponyboy had done him a favor, and he was pretty sure Paul was feeling lonelier than he let on.
“I went to a conversion camp,” Paul told him, scratching his head aggressively. “It didn’t fucking work. It was all your brother’s fault.”
Ponyboy stood up straighter at that admission. He’d initially wanted to feel angry, because how dare Paul blame Darry for his problems? Then he’d let the information really sit in.
”You liked Darry,” he’d finally said softly.
”You’re one to judge,” Paul said contemptuously.
Ponyboy blinked. “What?”
”You’re queer,” Paul pointed out. “So you can’t judge me for being queer.”
”I wasn’t?” Ponyboy sighed. “I was making an acknowledgement. Not everything is an accusation. And how’d you know I’m queer?”
”You have earrings, a tie dyed shirt, and a flower tattoo,” Paul snorted.
“This was my dead mom’s favorite flower,” Ponyboy said flatly. “My shirt was a fundraiser because my D1 track team was trying to support a teammate’s cousin. I mean, I am queer, but jeez you gotta stop with the judgmental shit.”
“You gotta apply.”
”I don’t gotta do anything.”
”You’re homeless,” Ponyboy said with exasperation. “You need a job to get outta that situation. Maybe you can work your way up to manager.”
“And where am I gonna put my stuff?” Paul demanded.
Ponyboy eyed his setup. Paul traveled with a large camping backpack.
”I can keep it in my dorm. I’ll lock my closet, although no offense, but my roommate doesn’t want your stuff.”
“How do you know?” Paul asked.
Ponyboy smiled sheepishly. “It’s not…stuff he’d wanna steal. He’s fine.”
“How—“
”’Cause your stuff is shitty!” Ponyboy threw his hands up. “And Miguel—“
”Miguel?”
”Yes, for fuck’s sake. We’re in Los Angeles, get a fucking grip,” Ponyboy snapped. “You are a hobo. I wasn’t gonna call it that, but it’s what it is, and you’re not in a place to condescend upon us so-called plebians from a high horse you don’t have.”
Ponyboy shoved the plastic bag of food at Paul. “Eat it or not. I don’t care.”
On his way back to his dorm, he passed five more homeless people. He gave them all a dollar, and found he had no money to get tacos at the truck near his building.
Ponyboy went back and made himself a meager meal of rice and beans, snagging some of Miguel’s seasonings to save it.
He flopped on his bed as his phone rang.
”What?”
”Fuck you too,” Dallas sniffed. “When does your semester end?”
”What?” Ponyboy repeated, a bit softer this time.
”Your internship?” Dallas scoffed. “You need a place to stay for your internship and basically invited yourself to stay with my family.”
”Pick a price and I’ll pay for the room,” Ponyboy sighed. “I told you that.”
”And I told you there was no fucking price, just help out with the stupid ass kayaks on one of your days off,” Dallas ranted. “I was trying to see when you were wrapping your shit up at school ‘cause I was gonna drive your ass motherfucking coast to coast but sorry for bothering you—“
”Sorry,” Ponyboy cut him off, as he pushed himself up. “I’m just struggling with Paul. And I couldn’t get tacos because I had to help these other peopleI’m really sorry, Dally. I’m done on May 20 if that’s still okay.”
”If you wanna live your life in cities you gotta stop playing Good Samaritan like that,” Dallas told him.
“Is it so bad to help people?”
”Kid, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy. You’re already losing it. I know you think I’m being an asshole, but that’s city life. It’s a bitch,” Dallas informed him. “There’s always gonna be people in the trenches, and you can’t save them all.”
”That ain’t fair.”
”No, but it’s true.”
”Dally,” Ponyboy said slowly. “Do you…”
He faltered. There was no easy way to say it. Dallas was bitter, and angry. He got into fights all the time, and stole even when he didn’t have to. Dallas didn’t want him saving other kids, had openly told Ponyboy to abandon them at the church.
Nobody saved Dallas, and he didn’t wanna save nobody else. Ponyboy knew he’d never truly understand what it was like. He’d long feared the world that shaped Dallas, had feared becoming like Dallas. It sounded like a miserable way to see the world, and yet an inevitable consequence of the experiences Dallas went through his first time in New York.
At the same time, it felt like a cruel cycle that would continue to crumble their communities. His parents were people that struggled too, and yet they refused to be jaded. They loved their family, and they loved their community.
His parents didn’t raise him to be selfish. He had no right to tell Dallas, a formerly homeless and abandoned kid, how selfish to be or not to be. That didn’t mean Ponyboy felt he himself had to be selfish.
”I know it may be thankless,” he finally said softly. “But it’s okay.”
”It’s not,” Dallas snapped.
”It’s okay for me,” Ponyboy replied. “If you think I’m stupid or pathetic, that’s okay as well. Dally, you liked my momma right? Said she always knew the score?”
”Yeah,” Dallas said warily.
”She woulda helped people. And yeah, maybe I do need to make more boundaries,” Ponyboy conceded. “But I want to help as many people as possible. I’ll learn how much I can handle along the way.”
”What if you get into another situation where you could die and this time Johnny and I can’t help you?” Dallas pressed.
”That’s not your responsibility,” Ponyboy assured him.
”Goddamnit, stupid!” Dallas yelled. “I know that! You need to take care of yourself, for fuck’s sake. That’s not my responsibility, are you fucking crazy?! You think that you can just go out there and get your ass killed but it’s fucking okay, because it’s not our fucking responsibility??”
Ponyboy winced as he heard something crash.
”I’ll call you later,” Dallas barked. “Try not to do anything stupid until then.”
Dallas didn’t call him back.
He didn’t even text him, and Ponyboy wondered if he should come up with a contingency plan for his internship. Fingers trembling, he reached out.
pony: Hi, it’s okay if you changed your mind. Can you please just let me know so if I need to do something else I can? Again, it’s totally fine! I just need to know?
He went to visit Paul in his encampment area, food in hand. Paul had finally gotten his shit together, and applied for a job at In-n-Out.
“Hey pretty boy, got a dollar?” Ponyboy looked at one of the men in the area.
His phone went unanswered, and Ponyboy became very aware that he really shouldn’t be giving away money in the moment.
“No,” he said. “Sorry.”
”You hesitated,” the man cracked a humorless smile.
”I really can’t,” Ponyboy insisted, and sped up. However, the man wouldn’t leave him alone. He came running for Ponyboy, who started running as well. Ponyboy was faster than him, but he knew he couldn’t run forever. He debated telling the man he had a dollar after all, but then he’d look like a liar.
“It’s the least you could do!” The man shouted. “You don’t even know what you kids do to us!”
Ponyboy turned around, and saw the man was no longer running after him. He just stood there, panting, but the accusatory gaze he shot Ponyboy was enough.
”I’m not rich either,” Ponyboy told him. “I grew up in the poor side of my town and I’m here on scholarship.”
“So you ain’t paying for school but can’t spare me a dollar?”
“I grew up poor,” Ponyboy repeated. “And my scholarship doesn’t include housing.”
”Where are you from?”
”Oklahoma.”
“Go back to Oklahoma, boy,” the man scoffed. “Nobody wants your redneck self here.”
”You give the Hollywood hotshots this much grief?” Ponyboy asked.
“I can’t,” the man sneered.
”So I’m easy prey for you, I guess.”
”Don’t pity yourself too much,” the man snarled. “You wanna be one of them, don’t you? All you kids do, don’t give a damn about anyone who grew here. This is just a place for your dreams to come true, fuck whoever you gotta step on to get there. They buy up our housing, destroy our communities for your stupid ass school and your stupid ass sports. You like to point fingers at Hollywood, and you got a point. But that ain’t enough. You’re all the problem. LA’s a place where people come and make their own. But what about us? What about me, damnit? My pops worked as a janitor for UCLA for years—cleaning up the sweat of pretty boys like you in the locker rooms. Nobody would look at him. The school you came from Oklahoma to get your education? That’s a public school. University of California. But it’s not for us. It’s for you Bible Belt boys who run fast or whatever the hell you do! It’s all for you!”
“Is there a problem?” Ponyboy whirled around to see an officer of the LAPD.
”We’re just talking,” Ponyboy said carefully. “Maybe you were called for something else?”
“We weren’t called,” the officer told him. “We’ve already known about these places. It’s a public health and safety concern to let people continue living in these circumstances.”
“Are you going to give them housing, then?”
”Of course not, boy,” the homeless man sneered. “They’re just gonna move us vermin to some other corner. Welcome to Los Angeles, kid.”
“Alright, Reggie,” the officer said, unbothered. “You know the drill.”
Ponyboy swallowed hard. They knew the man’s name. They’d known he’d move around the city, homeless. He was tempted to give Reggie a hundred dollars right then and there, and yet what would it do? He’d be a hundred dollars short, which he wouldn’t get back. It wasn’t that it wouldn’t help Reggie, but it would only do so much. He could feel something tighten in his throat.
Ponyboy thought of how sad it was that Johnny stayed in the lot. They didn’t even get that here. He thought of the first time he went to see the Hollywood sign, or the Walk of Fame. It felt so useless, and he felt something sharp and hot prod at his conscience.
Why did he ever think Los Angeles would be different? He knew what Dally went through in New York, but Los Angeles wasn’t New York. New York was, well, known for the mob, and crime. That wasn’t all that there was to it, and yet it was real. It was cruel to say, but Dallas didn’t exactly do anything to rehabilitate New York’s reputation in their small Oklahoman society. If anything, he made things worse.
Look at the Yankee go, people sighed. Winston’s in the cooler again? I’m sure. Oh, he slugged your husband across the face? He robbed my brother’s store and flirted with my niece while clearing out their register.
The officer began to herd Reggie away.
“Wait, I didn’t get my stuff!”
“Where is it?”
“Just let me go get it! Kid, yo, kid! If you really can’t spare a dollar, but give a shit, get the purple bag!”
Ponyboy raced in the direction the man had chased him from. The bag was heavy, but he hauled it over his shoulder and ran back after the officer and Reggie.
”Here,” he panted.
Reggie gave him a long look.
”You got a good heart,” he admitted gruffly. “Don’t mean much, but you got one. I’m glad I met you before the city fucked you up.”
He snatched his bag and stomped off.
”You’ve got to be more careful, son.”
Ponyboy turned wearily to see the officer giving him an exasperated look. “We’re trying to make the city safer, but you need to steer clear of these encampments. You can report—“
Ponyboy walked away. Maybe it was rude, but he wasn’t in the mood. He went back to his dorm, and took a nap.
Ponyboy felt a finger jab him harshly in the side. He groaned.
”That was too fucking easy,” Dallas swore.
Ponyboy nearly fell out of bed and looked up to see Dallas glaring at him.
”Why are you here?”
”You didn’t answer,” Dallas snapped.
”So you came across the country to break into my dorm?” Ponyboy demanded.
“Broke in?” Dallas laughed. “I wish! I came in with someone and when I got here, the door was unlocked.
”Miguel forgets sometimes, but we know everyone on the floor,” Ponyboy mumbled.
”You fucking idiots,” Dallas huffed.
”Um…” Ponyboy scratched his neck.
”Don’t worry,” Dallas scoffed. “I’m not gonna camp out in your dorm. I can handle a few days as a nomad in Los Angeles.”
”Dally—“
”It’s warm, and I got a car. Easy as hell. Might even be fun.”
”You’ve got to be kidding,” Ponyboy sighed.
Dallas gave him a cool look. “Yeah, when you’ve spent an entire winter on the streets of fucking New York, without a car, a few days in LA is a fucking breeze. I’m not an idiot, I’m sure it sucks doing this shit after the second week. But a few days is nothing for me.”
“I was just gonna say you can stay here,” Ponyboy mumbled. “Miguel is gonna move out this weekend. It’s finals, and his family is gonna go on a trip to Arizona. He also lives not too far away, so they’re gonna clear out his stuff this weekend and he’ll commute for finals.”
“What happened?”
”What do you mean?”
”You were crying,” Dallas pointed out.
”Oh. Was I?” Ponyboy muttered. “Dally, am I the problem?”
He almost regretted asking, and expected Dallas to call him a pain the ass.
”No.”
He blinked. “I didn’t even explain.”
”You don’t have to,” Dallas huffed. “You do shit that isn’t good for you, and that we all wish you wouldn’t, but that’s not what you’re asking. I know that you don’t see your stupid need to self-sacrifice as a problem, which is my problem for you. So I’m assuming whatever else is some kind of bullshit you’ve cooked up in your head.”
“My dream is someone else’s nightmare,” Ponyboy whispered. “I don’t wanna live in Tulsa, but if I come to a big city to make my dreams come true, they’re expecting it.”
They were a faceless entity he couldn’t quite put a name on, and yet could understand deeply.
”It’s…it’s dreamers like me that make everything expensive—“
“Because they’re preying on you,” Dallas cut him off. “You, and all the people at your school, are a market for them. You’re desperate to live here, and they’re preying on that. It’s not your fault, well, it is a bit. But wait—just stick with me. What else are you gonna do, Ponyboy? Be poor for the rest of your life in Oklahoma? I keep telling you, you gotta take care of yourself. You can’t…you can’t throw yourself away for a world that wouldn’t do the same for you.”
“But I can’t just do nothing.”
”Then volunteer,” Dallas sighed. “Ask your…” He wrinkled his nose. “Community what they need, but don’t, I swear, Ponyboy, don’t put yourself on the streets. Don’t get yourself hurt over it. You’re a smart kid, but for some reason, you got an affinity for acting stupid. Being street smart is a real thing, which you don’t got. If you wanna live in a city, you gotta get with the program.”
“You do what you can,” he continued. “But you gotta know your limits. I wish you’d be more selfish, and you think that you should be allowed to give as much as you can. But do you really know how much you can actually give?”
Dallas ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not a person to person thing. Okay? Expensive cities don’t happen in a fucking vacuum. There’s a program that’s bigger than all of us—as someone that’s been to prison, mind you. You know how I got in prison?”
”How?” Ponyboy asked timidly.
”We couldn’t pay rent,” Dallas told him. “My dad found a place he said was in Park Slope. He was an alcoholic, but at one point he had a decent job. He was what a lotta people might call a functional alcoholic. He was an abusive piece of shit, but he managed to act alright for his boss, the son of a bitch. When we first got pushed outta Sheepshead Bay, my old man moved us into South Slope to prove a point. But he lost his job after a year. We’d signed the new lease, fuck, I still say we sometimes ‘cause he made me an accomplice in the whole thing. It’s so fucking bad, Pony; I’ll kill him if I see him again, I swear. Anyways, things were changing in the neighborhood and there was a massive jump in the rent.”
Dallas sighed heavily, his head drooping and his shoulders hunching. His St. Christopher dangled between his knees, looking awfully sad. “We needed quick cash, and in Park Slope there’s a lotta rich people. We lived in a building with a lotta rich people. The thing is, rich people don’t donate easily. So we needed to get clever. I…”
He scratched his neck. “I stole someone’s two-thousand dollar breeder dog. A forgetful old woman. She put up an award, and we fell for it. We returned the dog, but she’d known it was me all along. My dad tried to throw me under the bus. Said that yes, we had money problems, but he never told me to do that. We went to prison and when we got out, we briefly lived at the shelter together. He never forgave me for getting us caught, and I ran away.”
Dallas looked out the window. He was blinking rapidly, and there was a sparkle in his eye that Ponyboy could see. It was wet, he realized and looked away awkwardly.
“My point,” Dallas said after a long while, “is that my old man said we lived in Park Slope. We lived in the South Slope, which was actually supposed to be more affordable. At the time. My dad was a loser, yeah, but we also got priced out. With his savings, we coulda handled the rent in the first lease. But they priced us out. Do people moving in feed the beast? Of course. But they aren’t the beast itself.”
He shook his head. “Pony, there’s no good answer, alright? Waste your life away in Oklahoma, or move somewhere else and deal with the shit that comes with it. Everything is fucked up, and I know you think that’s just me being bitter but it is. The world isn’t a movie or a book. It’s imperfect, and you’re gonna feel hopeless and angry sometimes.”
He stood up, and ruffled Ponyboy’s hair. It wasn’t as aggressive as it usually was, and it was almost gentle.
”Come on,” Dallas told him. “I wanna catch the birria tacos guy before he packs up for the day.”
His hand lingered in Ponyboy’s hair for a moment longer before he gave it a brief tug and stepped back.
Ponyboy pushed himself out of bed, and followed him to the door.
”When is your roommate moving out tomorrow?” Dallas asked. “Are you gonna help him?”
”Do I have your approval?” Ponyboy scoffed half-heartedly.
”Do whatever you want. I just think you’re getting used,” Dallas sniffed.
”I’m using you.”
”That’s different.”
”How so?” Ponyboy asked.
”I’ve leeched off your family countless times,” Dallas mumbled, a rare flush rising in his cheeks.
”My parents wouldn’t call it leeching,” Ponyboy commented.
”They were too nice too,” Dallas sighed. “Look, you’re not using me ‘cause I said you’re not. There. And you’re gonna help out with the kayaks.”
”Is now a bad time to tell you I’ve never swam in open water before?” Ponyboy asked nervously. “I only started recently taking swimming lessons at the school pool. Miguel’s trying to work up me to the beach.”
Dallas side eyed him. “Oh. To be honest, I didn’t know you learned to swim at all.”
”Really?”
”Ponyboy, you grew up a world away from any kinda ocean, and you never mentioned liking swimming, and nobody else mentioned you liking swimming so I just assumed you never swam.” Dallas rolled his eyes.
”Maybe someone else mentioned it and you forgot,” Ponyboy mumbled.
”Nah. I remembered that you’re the best shot in your family and I’ve never heard or seen you go hunting,” Dallas said easily.
”That’s creepy.”
”Not being oblivious is creepy?” Dallas snorted.
”No…just why me?” Ponyboy asked.
”What do you mean?”
”Why do you…remember obscure stuff about me? You’ve met so many people in your life in so many places.”
”Why not?” Dallas asked. He turned his forearm, and Ponyboy swallowed hard at the apparently permanent burn marks. If Dallas had his own jacket this wouldn’t have happened; more importantly if Ponyboy hadn’t run into the fire against his insistence, that definitely wouldn’t happen. Dallas saved him first; any injury he sustained getting Johnny was because Johnny followed Ponyboy in the first place, and because they both put Ponyboy before themselves leading to Ponyboy being the only one left unscarred from what was his own initiated rescue mission.
Long fingers snapped under his nose. “Kid, if I was mad, I woulda beaten your head in like I said I was gonna,” Dallas sighed. “I don’t regret nothing, and neither does Johnnycake. It’s just…”
He looked down. “I feel like if I just tell you I care about you, you won’t believe me.”
Dallas cleared his throat before Ponyboy could form a response to that. “Come on, I’m starving and I’ve been waiting for you to get up, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Alright,” Ponyboy huffed. “I’ve gotten past that shitty dye job-cut years ago. And I think my hair is pretty tuff now, so you can’t mock me anymore.”
Dallas frowned. “I wasn’t mocking you then, and I wasn’t mocking you now. Now, move it. I didn’t drive cross-country to have Taco Bell in Los Angeles, Ponyboy.”
The tacos were good, but Ponyboy was still left with a bit of sour taste in his mouth when Dallas took off shortly after.
”Where are you going?” he’d asked.
Dallas grinned wolfishly. “You got another day with your roommate. And I’ve got a place to go too.”
Ponyboy gagged at the implication, and ignored the odd queasiness he felt. “Some girl’s letting you stay the night without even a first date?”
”Not a girl.” Dallas gave him a salute and a crooked smile before wandering off.
Ponyboy wasn’t sure if he should be surprised or not. Dallas was whoever he wanted to be and did whatever he wanted to do. Consomé dried on his fingers, leaving them a sticky orange. The breeze and car exhaust blew in his face. A plastic bag floated on its lonesome down the street. Girls giggled and a teenage boy fell off his skateboard. If he squinted, he saw yet another person who’d seen better days, holding a cardboard sign on top of a moth bitten blanket.
He turned his head instinctively to the loud roar of a sleek purple Lamborghini.
Los Angeles was the city of angels, it was said. Dallas thought it was silly, but Ponyboy thought maybe he could allow himself one last wish.
He wished, in the moment, that he could find the angels. He wanted to find the angels, even if it wasn’t who he once imagined the angels would be.
In the city of angels, where were they?