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The cool and slightly rusted metal of a detached car bumper against the side of his face did little to lull Johnny back to sleep once Pony had left the lot, as well as the wind that had picked up in the last, what Johnny assumed to be, few hours, if the way the street lights illuminated the neighborhoods around him and the trees casted shadows on the now blacked-out houses was any indication.
Even in his half-awake state Johnny had been able to make out what Pony said to him after he insisted on staying in the lot all night: "if you get cold, come on to my house."
Part of him was starting to consider taking Pony up on that offer with how the unusually freezing wind for mid-September in Oklahoma nipped at his face and stung the small cuts he had garnered on his hands from slicing himself on the jagged edges of broken beer bottles after his parents had a particularly nasty fight, and a misunderstanding with the Socs regarding Bob drunkenly accusing his girlfriend Cherry of cheating on him with Johnny that ended up in a knife fight, only being resolved once Cherry threatened to call the cops on them both.
That was another reason why Johnny was growing wary of staying in the lot all night. Since the Socs had jumped him four months ago, he didn't like being away from his own gang of boys for too long, even if that meant it was just him and Pony. He had never been the kind of kid who went out looking for trouble, but he knew how to defend himself when he needed to. That wasn't what scared him. What scared him was that he was a block away from his house and he wasn't sure if anyone would hear him calling for help should the Socs show up and try beating him up again. Even on the nights when he would return home instead of staying at the Curtis house or wandering around town going into whatever 24 hour drug store he could find, the knowledge that he lived close enough for one of the boys to hear him in case things got too bad provided enough comfort to at least get him through the night.
He was snapped out of his mental debate when he heard the familiar high-pitched shriek of his mother that had been muffled by the sound of the raging wind, but was still sharp enough to cut through the air, and it occurred to Johnny that if he could hear his parents nightly argument from all the way out here surely the other boys would be able to hear him if he got himself into another fight, right?
The street light that flickered from time to time caught Johnny's attention and served as a reminder of how late it was. He was sure by now that any chance he had of crashing at the Curtis house for the night had come and went. Darry was likely laying into Pony right now and Soda was trying to fight his own battle with sleep to break it up.
Darry's anger was different from that of the anger of Johnny's parents. Darry's anger came from a place of fear and worry. It was a, "you could've been hurt!" or, "I thought I had lost you!" anger, whereas Johnny's parents' anger came from a place of regretfulness. Regret for having a child and regret for bringing him into the situation he was in: poor and an easy target for bullying from those more well off than him. At least, Johnny wanted to believe they regretted it. He wanted to believe that they felt something, anything other than indifference towards him.
That was the worst of it. The days where his parents would simply look at him with a blank stare, like he was nothing more than a daily reminder of what can go wrong in a couples' life when they aren't careful, as if saying, "you aren't even worth it", was worse than any slaps, punches, or kicks they could hurl at him. Maybe that was why Johnny didn't tense up whenever Darry started in on Pony or even the rest of the gang, because he knew that it was out of love and not hate. Or maybe Johnny had grown so accustomed to yelling in his lifetime that it simply didn't phase him anymore.
No, surely that couldn't be it. It couldn't be the latter because whenever Johnny thought about the differences between Darry and his own parents he was reminded of the bruise he had been given earlier that day before school when he just so happened to be walking past his mother at the same time that his father's fist made contact with his right cheek and he heard him call out, "now your right one has a scar too!" before Johnny ran out of the house to meet with the rest of the gang who were rightfully concerned. They were probably the only people in the whole world who cared when his parents got violent with him, everyone else just brushed him off. In fact, everyone else would probably find it weirder if a Greaser didn't come from a dysfunctional family.
The longer he spent thinking back on the day he had had with school, the movie house, falling asleep in the lot with Pony, and more importantly the punch to the face he started his day off with, the more noticeable the pain became. Not just from the bruise now but from the wind that was causing his head to hurt as well. He decided that he couldn't sleep in the lot tonight unless he wanted to risk either freezing to death, getting jumped again, or waking up with a killer headache and potential back problems, but he also really didn't want to go back home. Of course the one night where Johnny didn't want his parents to notice him would be the night where all of those options would probably be better than whatever they had in store for him.
Wandering around town all night, as well as listening to Darry get onto Pony for being out so late, was out of the picture now with how quickly the dull throbbing pain in his head was beginning to turn into a sharp stabbing pain, but who else would Johnny be able to go to? Two-Bit was likely passed out drunk by now, and it was next to impossible to wake him up when he was in one of his alcohol-induced slumbers. Steve, well... Johnny really didn't want to think about what Steve might do to him if he woke him up at this hour on a work night.
Then he remembered. Dally had been talking about attending some party at Buck Merrill's place tonight. After Cherry threw a Coke at him and he ditched Johnny and Pony at the movie house that must've been where he had gone.
He knew that Dally had taken refuge at Buck's house enough times that he practically lived there most nights, but he also knew that Dally had a tendency to disappear for days on end without telling anyone. Sometimes it was because he was in the joint, other times it was because he simply wanted to run away and forget about his life for a while. His parents didn't care, they had stopped asking about him after the first time he got arrested when he was 10, as did his teachers and classmates. Sometimes one of the Greasers from the other gangs would ask where he went, but everyone knew that when Dally Winston ran away, he didn't want people to go looking for him.
Johnny wasn't sure if Dally would still be there or if he would even be awake, but he had to check. He couldn't stay out in the lot all night.
He sat up from the car bumper he had been resting his head on and placed one hand on the tree that it leaned against to pull himself up from the dirt floor, his other hand moving to cup his bruised cheek to hopefully soothe the slight ache the pressure caused him. Once he was up he removed his hands from both surfaces and instead tucked them into the pockets of his jean jacket, his usual stance for when he was with the gang. He thought it made him look tuff and that hopefully people would leave him alone. Then he exited the lot.
-
By the time he made it to the part of Tulsa where Buck lived, Johnny's hand had slipped from the pocket on his jacket to the pocket on his jeans that held his switchblade that he had started carrying around with him regularly since the Socs had first jumped him. He had really been preparing to pull it out just in case since he got to the park, but this particular neighborhood was on the outskirts of the city where crimes bigger than petty theft occurred. Kidnappings, aggravated assault, drug dealings, they were all common, and the only advice given to people who visited here was to either mind your own business, or you were on your own. Maybe that was another reason why Dally spent so much time over here. He didn't like when the rest of the gang offered him help, and over here he didn't have to feel that vulnerability that reminded him of being a small child at the hands of his father again.
Minding his own business was exactly what Johnny did. He kept his head down and avoided eye contact to make himself as small as possible as he silently took in the neighborhoods' appearance.
The houses were small and in bad condition with broken windows, damaged plywood that hung from the sides and swayed in the wind, and vulger words and symbols that had been graffitied on the side of most of them.
Every once in a while Johnny would pass a house with one or two kids sitting outside on the porch. Sometimes they would have their knees pulled up to their chest with their arms either wrapped around them or covering their sibling's ears as the faint sound of arguing from two adults inside drifted through the cracks of the house and into the cold night air. None of the kids could have been older than 10 though.
Johnny remembered when he was that young, with big black eyes that were always slightly red and puffy from crying or ornered with a shiner, and unkempt, shaggy hair that was equally as dark. He remembered the nights before the gang came along where he would sit on his own front porch after his parents' fighting kept him up or broke his concentration on studying. Some nights he would be out there just to collect his thoughts and relax the best that he could, while other nights he would clasp his hands together so tightly that they grew sweaty and began to tremble involuntarily and would pray to God to make his parents stop fighting for one night, just so he could get a full night of sleep.
His prayers were never answered of course. Why would they be? Not even God wanted anything to do with him, Johnny was sure of it. But on the nights he laid awake on the yellow-stained mattress of his bed, he sometimes found himself squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his hands together all over again. He didn't ask for his parents to stop fighting anymore though, no, that was clearly too big of a request, instead he asked God for something that was probably even more stupid and impossible: "if you're there, God, can you make my mom and dad love me?"
Johnny found himself relating to the kids he saw on the porch, so he didn't say anything to them about being outside this late at night and instead kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.
-
He knew that he was nearing Buck's place by the way the music had become loud enough for Johnny to recognize it as a Beatles song and how the bar lights peeked through the blinds and bathed the cars parked outside and the surrounding neighborhoods in a red glow. He sauntered up the old, cracked concrete steps to the front door of the run-down building and pulled back the screen door, making sure not to cut himself on the torn wire netting, then knocked three times and took a couple steps back to wait for an answer.
Nothing happened for about 15 seconds and Johnny was about to knock again but lowered his fist when the door suddenly swung open to reveal Buck with his eyebrows furrowed, clearly annoyed at having his party interrupted by the Greaser.
"What do you want, boy?" He asked with irritation lacing his tone.
"Is Dally here?" Even Johnny was a bit surprised by how quiet and hoarse his voice came out, and based on how Buck didn't immediately respond to the question, he assumed he was trying to understand what Johnny was asking.
"Why do you want to know?"
The younger boy was starting to feel his own frustration grow. He really didn't want to tell Buck the real reason he was here because he felt it was none of his business, but he also didn't want to be turned away. So he glanced down at where the red-tinted interior floor of the building peered through the crack in the door as his hands found their normal position in the pockets of his jacket and he softly admitted, "I didn't have anywhere else to go."
Once again Buck didn't respond right away, but then he let out a deep sigh and Johnny watched him remove his hand from the doorknob, turn around, and disappear into the barrage of flashing lights and loud rock music.
Johnny's eyes trailed back down to this time lock on to where the front door hadn't been closed all the way. He knew it was rude and an invasion of privacy, but the frigid wind bearing against his dark tanned skin and the pounding in his skull was becoming too much for him to handle, so he brought one hand up to his ear to cover it and hopefully minimize the noise while his other hand pushed the door open.
The smell of booze, weed, and cigarettes wafted through the air and hit him in the face as soon as he stepped into the bar and he had to squint his eyes just to barely make out the silhouettes of the other partygoers through the thick cloud of smoke.
"Dal? Are you here?" He called out, but his words got lost in the crowd and he couldn't hear himself over the music and people chatting away. His hand found the wall next to him and he used that to guide him through the party, being extra careful as to not bump into anyone.
His attempt proved to be unsuccessful because shortly after he got close enough to see the staircase that he presumed led up to the bedroom where Dally slept, he felt his right arm brush against bare skin. Maybe if he hadn't said anything whoever it was he had grazed against wouldn't have noticed he was there, but it had become instinctual for Johnny to apologize for merely being in the presence of another person, so he muttered out a quiet, "sorry" while averting his eyes from the stranger.
When he got the courage to look up at who he had bumped into, he saw a pair of brown eyes looking down at him and pale pink lips that curved up in a big, dopey grin. If it wasn't for the thick mop of dirty blonde curls, Johnny wouldn't have even recognized it as Sylvia, Dally's ex-girlfriend who had cheated on him when he was in prison 5 months ago and who, when Dally was transferred to reform school, had made a couple of advancements towards Johnny before Steve got ahold of her and threatened to "personally beat the tar out of her", as Pony had recounted.
Apparently she hadn't learned her lesson, if the way she immediately snaked her arm around Johnny's shoulders and leaned close enough for him to smell the alcohol on her breath was anything to go off of.
"Hey, Johnnycakes!"
And there it was. That nickname that pretty much everyone in his life called him at one point or another, but that he hated when it came out of Sylvia's mouth.
"Hey..." He timidly greeted with his head lolling to the side to put as much distance between his and Sylvia's face as possible. He was no stranger to being around alcoholics, as almost every person in his life was one, but Sylvia had a tendency to become aggressive, and even more so when she was intoxicated. Maybe that was what drew Dally to her in the first place.
Sylvia seemed to take the action as an invitation because instead of backing away, she buried her face in the area between Johnny's face and his shoulder. He could feel her long eyelashes flutter against his skin and it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. "What are you doing here at this hour?" She whispered hotly.
"I'm just... looking for Dally." He responded, and he wasn't sure if it was his answer or the way he tensed up with his hands balled into fists so tightly that his fingernails dug crescent-shaped indents into his palms at his sides that caused it, but Sylvia removed her arm from around his shoulders and took a step back to look at Johnny with an annoyed expression that matched Buck's previous one.
"Dally?" She paused for a minute to reach into the pocket of her jeans and fish out a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes along with a lighter, then she plucked one of the sticks from the box, brought it to her lips, and lit it. She inhaled the smoke deeply and held it in her lungs for a few seconds before she brought one hand up to take the cigarette in between her index and middle finger and removed it from her lips to exhale the smoke with her lipstick leaving a small ring around where she had put her mouth. When she finally spoke again, her tone was filled with bitterness. "Yeah, I've seen him. He kicked me out of his room."
Dally and Sylvia's relationship had been rocky ever since Dally got out of reform school. They had broken up once when he was released after Steve broke the news to Dally that Sylvia had two-timed him and then moved on to Johnny when her first victim either came to his senses or was too scared of what Dally might do to him to continue the relationship, but had gotten back together a month later when Sylvia showed up to his house one night to beg him to take her back.
From then on they had been on and off with each other. Some nights Dally would be quick to let Sylvia into his bed, other nights their arguments would get so intense that they were having noise complaints filed on them by neighbors. Tonight must've been one of those nights.
Johnny was about to open his mouth but didn't get the chance to before a plume of smoke that Sylvia emitted blew into his face, and based on the playful gleam in her dark eyes, Johnny concluded she had done it on purpose. It didn't help her case that her arm found its way around his shoulders once again and she yanked him close enough that their chests were nearly touching. "But it's okay," she added, narrowing her eyes in an alluring manner. "Because it's just the two of us now."
"I'm sorry, but I really should get going." He pleaded with the girl while trying to pry himself out of her grip. Sylvia didn't have all that much muscle on her, but she was tall. Not as tall as Dally who stood at a solid 6'2, but taller than Johnny who was only 5'3.
His plan backfired when her grip on the smaller boy tightened and her eyes which had once held a mischievious glint now looked down at him sharply. "What's your problem, Johnny? You don't wanna hang out with me?" She snapped.
"Not really," Johnny admitted shyly while shaking his head. "If Dally's asleep then... I'll just go to Pony's house for the night. Maybe if I'm lucky Darry will still be awake at least."
Sylvia's expression softened at that, as did her tone. It wasn't harsh like before but it was still firm, letting Johnny know that she was still trying to persuade him to stay with her. "Come on, Johnnycakes. It's too late to walk all the way back, especially if you don't even know if Darry is still awake. Just stay here and hang out with me."
Sylvia was stubborn. When she wanted something, she would do anything to get it. Right now she wanted Johnny, and her growing frustation at his repeated refusal was made evident when her grip practically squeezed the living daylights out of him.
"I said no." It was Johnny's turn to be the firm one. His usually timid and meek voice could now be heard clearly by Sylvia over the music and chatting of the bar patrons, making the girl's eyes widen. She wasn't used to being told no, and especially not by scared little Johnny of all people. It filled her with embarrassment and rage that made her already pink-tinted cheeks even brighter, and she stared down at him hatefully.
Johnny's hand inched down to the pocket of his jeans where he kept his switchblade should he have to use it. He didn't plan on actually hurting Sylvia, he just wanted her to leave him alone. Before their quarrel could escalate however, they both caught sight of a mane of tangled, platinum blond hair tinged red from the bar lighting in the corner of their eye.
The two Greasers were surprised when they looked over to see a tired Dally being escorted out of his room by Buck who still sported his usual disgruntled look. He led Dally over to the pair and then walked past the group of now 3 greasers to shut and lock the front door that Johnny had forgotten to close in his search for Dally, mumbling incoherently over the boy's irresponsibility.
If Dally wasn't so exhausted he'd probably be going off on Sylvia for flirting with other guys, especially when those other guys were Johnny. But right now he simply yawned and exasperatedly said, "Sylvia, back off. He's too young for whatever you have planned" while scratching the back of his neck with his slender fingers that occasionally snagged on a strand of hair still sticky with the Coke he hadn't gotten the chance to wash out.
Sylvia just rolled her eyes, but Johnny saw how her pupils darted between Dally's face and his chest, which was bare due to the fact that he found it constricting to wear shirts to bed. "I thought you were asleep." She responded sarcastically.
"I was. Buck woke me up and told me Johnny was here." Dally explained with the usual pinched expression that he always wore when he was in the presence of or talking about Sylvia.
The girl scoffed. "Oh, I see. You won't let me come to bed with you but you'll be by Johnny's side the moment he asks for you."
"Yeah, 'cause Johnny doesn't fight me on everything like you do."
Dally glanced down at Johnny and the younger boy watched as the muscles in his face relaxed and he displayed the faintest smile that only Johnny could get out of him. "Come on, Johnnycakes. You can crash with me."
Before the two walked off, Dally snatched the cigarette that Sylvia had been smoking out of her mouth and brought it to his own lips instead, momentarily stunning her. He didn't say anything else to her, just tucked one hand into the pocket of his jeans that hung lowly on his hips from when he had scrambled to put them on after being rudely awakened by Buck, and turned to walk away with Johnny next to him.
While he was relieved that he didn't have to spend another second with Sylvia, it was in Johnny's nature to worry about everyone else before worrying about himself, so he asked Dally, "do you think Sylvia will be alright by herself?"
Dally didn't respond at first, instead wading through the crowd of people and ocassionally grabbing Johnny's shoulder to assure he didn't run into anyone else. Once at the bottom of the staircase though, Dally hummed in acknowledgement of the question and then answered with, "she'll be fine. She's probably hangin' off the arm of some poor sucker right now. He can give her a ride home."
Dally ascended up the stairs but Johnny stayed at the bottom just long enough to turn his head and confirm that Sylvia had indeed moved on to her next sacrifical lamb and had already taken to throwing her arm around his shoulders the same way she had done to Johnny, only this time the guy she was doing it to seemed to enjoy it, as his own arm was wrapped around her waist.
"Johnny, c'mon!"
Dally's voice from atop the stairs caught the attention of the other Greaser as well as a group of 3 much older men standing by the entrance of the living room, who looked between Dally and Johnny and then back at each other to resume their conversation.
Dally turned the corner into his room just as Johnny was coming up behind him and closed the door behind the two of them. He strolled over to the twin-sized bed that Dally always slept on when he stayed at Buck's that barely fit his lean body and sat down on the edge of it while the older boy made his way over to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of beer. "You want one?" He called out to Johnny.
"No." Johnny shook his head, then paused for a brief second before adding, "Thank you."
Dally shrugged and took a bottle for himself. He let the fridge door slam behind him and used his sharp, pointed teeth to crack the lid open and let it fall to the hardwood floor with a metallic clink. Then he took the spot next to Johnny on the small bed.
"So," Dally began, taking the cigarette out of his mouth just long enough to flick the ash that collected on the end of it into the ashtray that sat on the nightstand and take a swig of beer, grimacing at the bitter yeast flavor the first sip brought to him before relaxing his face once more and bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. "What brought you here, man? Figured you would'a gone home with Pony after the movie."
"We fell asleep in the lot. I didn't know what time it was, but the street lights were on when we woke up." Johnny explained, to which Dally hummed in acknowledgement.
"So Darry is probably getting into it with him right now, huh?"
"Yeah, and I didn't wanna get Pony in any more trouble than he's probably in now. Plus my head was startin' to hurt."
Dally huffed out a laugh, the smoke exhaling through his nose. "Darry's always gonna find a reason to get Pony in trouble. And if your head was hurtin', why'd you come to a party?"
"'Cause Two-Bit's probably out cold and you know how Steve can be when his dad's home."
Dally didn't respond right away but after taking a drag from the cigarette, his violet eyes wandered to look at the bedroom door across the room from them and he said, "yeah, I guess that's true."
Silence that was broken every once in a while by the sound of Dally taking a sip of beer fell between them. It wasn't until Johnny's mind roamed back to his encounter with Sylvia that the younger boy finally spoke up.
"So.. is something going on between you and Sylvia?"
Dally raised an eyebrow and glanced at Johnny in the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"
"She said that you kicked her out of your room. Is there any reason why?"
"Oh, yeah. She wanted to 'make up' for our argument we had before I went to prison the last time and I told her to screw off and let me sleep."
"Ah... I take it you two've broken up again then?"
"Yeah." Dally drank from the bottle once again. He normally didn't like talking about Sylvia or his relationship with her, but it seemed like the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions enough that he didn't mind it so much now. It also probably helped that he was talking to Johnny about it and not one of the other Greasers in their gang.
Dally never said it out loud but he also didn't try to hide the fact that Johnny was his favorite out of all of them. He wasn't weak by no means, he couldn't be with how he took his parents' beatings, but Dally still felt the urge to protect him and the light in his eyes that the world hadn't yet burned out of him like it had done to Dally before he was even a teenager.
"I swear, Johnny, this'll be the last time. I'm breaking it off with Sylvia for good this time." He promised.
Johnny didn't want to bring up how Dally said this every other week just for him to get back together with her two days later and risk getting punched in the jaw, so he just nodded his head and said, "is that why you were hittin' on Cherry at the movie house, because you're interested in her? You can be honest, man. I won't tell anyone."
Dally almost laughed at the sincerity in Johnny's voice and the audacity to think that Dally was the kinda guy to go after a Soc girl, but he refrained. "That prissy little broad? Nah, I just thought it was fun to see her get all worked up. Well, until you had to get in the way."
"You know Bob's gonna kill you when he finds out you were try'na pick on his girl. Probably gonna try to kill Ponyboy too, he started talking to Cherry after you left." Johnny stated, ignoring the insult that wasn't all too uncommon from Dally.
Dally's expression softened just slightly and he found himself putting his free hand on Johnny's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "Hey, man, Pony'll be fine. He's got us and the rest of the gang lookin' out for him."
"And... what about you?" Johnny asked to Dally's surprise. "I mean, you know you can always count on us but... what if the Socs try to jump you when you're alone? Will you be okay?"
"Yeah... yeah, I'll be okay. Don't you worry, Johnnycakes. I'm tough, ya know?" Dally reassured. It wasn't that he thought that the gang didn't care about him, but usually he was the one who looked out for them, not the other way around. He was the one who would hunt down any Socs or even other Greasers from other gangs and wait until they were alone to beat them within an inch of their life if they tried to start anything with his own gang.
"I know." Johnny paused, as if he was carefully thinking about the next thing he wanted to say. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like without Greasers or Socs?"
"Not really." Dally bluntly replied with a drag of the cigarette.
"Oh." Johnny's eyes drifted to the hardwood floor of the bedroom. "Well, do you ever wonder how your life would've turned out if you weren't a Greaser? If you were just a plain, ordinary person?"
For once Dally didn't have an answer to the question. He never found himself thinking much about the 'what-ifs' because he had never known anything other than the Greaser lifestyle, and he knew he never would. He had simply been dealt a bad hand at life, he had know that since he was 7 years old huddled up in a thin blanket in front of an over-frosted window of an old, crumbled apartment that overlooked the streets of New York City bustling with people who were last-minute Christmas shopping, with the only thing keeping him warm being the burning jealousy he felt seeing the kids in the apartment across from his partaking in Christmas festivities while his parents were fast asleep on the air mattress that sat only a few feet away from him.
"I don't know," Dally finally said after a few seconds of considering his answer. "I'd probably just be in the same position I'm in now."
As much as Johnny hated that answer, he knew it was true. Dally had been in and out of jail so many times that he had pretty much ruined any chance he had at living a normal life, and Tulsa had a way of making sure the poor stayed poor and the rich got richer. He would never admit that to anyone, but he didn't need to. Everyone knew that there was no future for Dally Winston. His parents knew it, his teachers and classmates at Rogers High School that he had attended for one semester in 9th grade before dropping out knew it, even the other greaser gangs knew it, but they were kinder in that they would never say it to Dally's face.
"What about you?" Dally asked, snapping Johnny out of his thoughts. "If you weren't a Greaser and were just a normal person, how do you think your life would've turned out?"
Much like Dally, Johnny stayed silent for a few seconds to think about his answer. When he finally spoke, he said, "I would've left Tulsa. Pony told me that he'd like to live in the country."
Dally raised an eyebrow once again. "And you would want to live with him?"
For the first time during this whole conversation, Johnny found himself smiling fondly at the idea of leaving Tulsa with Ponyboy. "Yeah. We could live in a big farmhouse on a big acre of land with a dog, maybe a Border Collie... and we could drive a Mustang."
Dally snorted softly at that. "A Mustang? Why a Mustang?"
"Because Mustang's are tuff." Johnny responded plainly.
The other boy rolled his eyes but had a small smile on his own face that mimicked Johnny's own. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."
Johnny found himself leaning closer to Dally to rest his head on the older Greaser's shoulder, which made him tense up momentarily from surprise but then relax. The singular lightbulb that hung down from the ceiling by a string had almost completely burned out, leaving the perfect amount of light to make Johnny's limbs feel heavy and his eyes droop.
"Hey, Dal?" He piped up, earning a soft hum of acknowledgement from his friend. "You don't think it's too late for me, right? You know, to achieve that dream?"
Dally wasn't quite sure what to say. Part of him wanted to tell Johnny that his dream was a stupid little fantasy at best, that most of the time Greasers were Greasers for life and there was no way to change that because life would continue to screw you over and over again. But, well, the kid looked like he needed something to hold onto so that he didn't go off the deep end like Dally had done, so without thinking too much about it, he said, "'course not. You're only 16 years old, you still have plenty of time."
"Good. Because I really don't know how much more of this I can take. This can't be all there is to life, I have to do something." Johnny said with a yawn, his voice bordering on desperate.
Dally put the cigarette out and finished off his beer with one last swallow, then placed the empty bottle next to the ashtray to remind himself to throw away tomorrow. "And you will, Johnnycakes, but right now you're tired. So just close your eyes and go to sleep."
The combination of dim lighting that brought a warm atmosphere and Dally's uncharacteristically soft voice and reassuring words comforted Johnny enough for him to stop warding off the sleep that he had been on the edge of for the last few hours, and let his eyes flutter closed right there next to Dally.