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“You gotta pinkie promise,” Ponyboy said solemnly.
”What are we, twelve?” Dallas snorted as he kicked a recycled cardboard box.
“Hey, my lava lamp’s in there and you refused to bubble wrap it sufficiently,” Ponyboy protested.
”You fucking hippie,” Dallas sneered lightly.
”Stop calling everything short of toxic masculinity hippie shit,” Ponyboy fired back.
“Okay Captain Chrysanthemum Tattoo.”
”If you know the name, you can’t mock me,” Ponyboy huffed.
”It was your mom’s favorite,” Dallas said seriously. “Alright, kid, you win. I ain’t getting the cold shoulder from you from Los Angeles to New York. Congrats.”
”Thanks,” Ponyboy sniffed.
”Yeah, yeah.” Dallas hopped on his stripped dorm ‘mattress’. “What’s the deal with Hobo Holden?”
”You’re such an asshole,” Ponyboy muttered as he taped the last of his boxes. “Take these to your car. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Dallas just laughed, and Ponyboy shook his head.
He sighed as he looked around his mostly empty dorm room. It was the first year done, and he was filled with both excitement and apprehension. He could see big things coming, and yet big risks at the same time.
It wasn’t too late to change his major, but would be soon.
Could a poor boy from Oklahoma make it with a film career? Only time could tell, and Ponyboy was nervous to see what exactly it would actually tell.
”Pony!” Dallas yelled. “Get a box and move your ass!”
Taking a deep breath, he picked up a box and did just that. The door closed behind him with a sense of finality and Ponyboy exhaled heavily.
“Hey, do you wanna get some stuff for Hobo Holden?” Dallas asked.
”I gave him some money,” Ponyboy said. “And…nevermind.”
Dallas smirked before turning a bit more serious.
”Yeah, but he’ll probably have trouble in stores, even if they don’t give him trouble, which is honestly unlikely. He’ll be carrying all his stuff, and they’ll be eyeing him. Also, he’s a Soc, former Soc, whatever. He’s not gonna wanna go in. It’s just easier,” Dallas told him.
Ponyboy blinked. It made sense.
“Money still helps,” Dallas added. “Like he’ll have to suck it up and get food. But things like making sure he has a first-aid kit, sunscreen, a portable charger—“
”I gave him that,” Ponyboy told him. “The charger, that is.”
Dallas ruffled his hair. “You’re a good kid, you know that right?”
”I’m not a kid anymore,” Ponyboy muttered.
“It’s just a saying,” Dallas huffed. “If you’re gonna go to New York, you gotta get used to it. There’s people that will even say son, and no they don’t actually mean that you’re their son.”
Ponyboy almost said he was surprised they were doing this at all. Yet, was it really that surprising? In an insane twist of irony, it took actually, legitimately getting Dallas messed up to realize they were friends.
Ponyboy still remembered, vividly, the way he’d come to the strange epiphany after Dallas miraculously laughed off being scared he’d killed Ponyboy. He didn’t make a mention of his own permenant injury. Neither Dallas or Johnny said a thing about him running toward the fire first, even though Dallas had warned him against it.
He never made good on his promise to beat Ponyboy’s head in, despite that the consequences had been worse than Ponyboy could’ve imagined.
Dallas did get all crazy when they thought Johnny wouldn’t make it through surgery but even then it was about Ponyboy. He kept ranting about how Ponyboy had to toughen up so he wouldn’t get hurt. Ponyboy didn’t think he’d ever forgot the way his whole frame shook, his eyes darting out frantically, and suddenly every other time Dallas freaked out seemed so much less unhinged.
He pushed down Dallas’ leather jacket with the cardboard flaps of the box, and taped that up too.
”You haven’t used it much here, have you?” Dallas asked.
”No, you want it back?”
“Nah,” Dallas muttered. “Keep it for the next time you do something stupid.”
He shuffled around behind Ponyboy. “I got a new one. Same shop too. A miracle it’s still open, really.”
“I thought you stole it,” Ponyboy confessed.
”The owner of the shop is an old man who was on the verge of ending up on the streets,” Dallas sighed. “I stole someone else’s wallet instead and bought it.”
He groaned. “Like I told you, I ended up in jail ‘cause of my father’s stupid scheme. When I was in jail, I joined my first gang for protection. Everything was so fucking raw then and I was still young. I didn’t wanna be a hood, Pony, but I needed to. I needed food to eat, and I had debts to pay. I told myself it was fun to seem like I was in control. I told myself the world had gone to shit anyways, so I might as well play this fucked up, dirty ass system for all I could. I still think shit is terrible, but I…”
Ponyboy heard him scratch at the skin of his arm. “I knew the old guy. He gave me my first coat, and he cleaned it for free when my old man got beer or blood on it. I got a piece of bubble gum too. I dunno why, probably cause he realized I was living a fucking train wreck at five. I robbed the deli across the street that night. They sold my old man cigs that he’d put out between my shoulder blades. I didn’t give a shit what they knew or didn’t. My old man being terrible was pretty known, so there was that.”
Ponyboy dared a glance at him. Dallas was staring out his window, searching for something Ponyboy couldn’t name. He wasn’t sure if Dallas himself could.
”Terrible people are made,” he said, more to himself than Ponyboy. “Sometimes I forget that. It’s easier to forget that, it’s easier to say well shit just sucks and you gotta suck too.”
“I don’t think you’re a terrible person,” Ponyboy said quietly.
Dallas snorted.
”I don’t,” Ponyboy repeated. “Sometimes I think you’re scary, because I know you can and will give people hell. I didn’t like you very much growing up. And I was scared of becoming like you—“
”Doing great,” Dallas scoffed in faux encouragement.
”But I always knew, deep down that you were a product of your environment. I was scared to experience the world that you experienced,” Ponyboy confessed.
”You’re gonna see it,” Dallas warned him.
”Am I? Am I gonna meet your dad? Your old gang?”
“No! The fuck?”
”Environment is more than the physical place you’re from,” Ponyboy reasoned. “It’s the people around you. You were around terrible people that treated you terribly.”
”You might still see some shit,” Dallas sighed. “Even if it ain’t the motherfuckers I used to deal with.”
“A homeless man here chased me,” Ponyboy told him before regretting it.
“What?! Ponyboy, you stupid…” Dallas trailed off, giving him an exasperated look. “You gotta get your shit together. What were you doing?”
”I was trying to drop food off for Paul.”
“Goddamnit, kid.” Dallas ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “I can’t leave you alone for a fucking second, can I?”
“We still need to help him,” Ponyboy insisted.
Dallas gave him a cool look. “You’re telling me the whole story in the car.”
Despite his cranky mood, Dallas had an abundance of opinions when they were shopping.
”That’s too big,” he said. “He’s gotta carry all this stuff. Maybe put it in a bag, and have individual bags inside. It’s more flexible, and lighter.”
”Yeah he needs water, but again, they do sweeps here, right? He’s gotta be on the move. And I know he was a former football player or whatever but he hasn’t been eating well for some time, so he’s probably weaker. Although…are there public parks with water fountains ‘round here? Maybe a reusable bottle.”
Ponyboy wasn’t even sure if Dallas still knew he was there. He trailed after him, a bit uselessly, noting when Dallas started throwing in less ‘essential’ things.
“Is the chocolate so the sugar keeps his energy up?”
Dallas side eyed him. “That’s for you and your stupid chocolate addiction. Stupid.”
They continued onwards and Ponyboy snuck in coco puffs too, ignoring Dallas’ eye roll.
“We’re stopping in Chicago,” he told Ponyboy. “I won’t subject you to the horror of a deep dish catastrophe, but there’s a place that apparently has a hella good chocolate cake.”
”You’re just scared I’ll like it more than the New York slice,” Ponyboy mumbled.
Dallas flipped him off and stomped around the corner.
As soon as they got into Dallas’ car, Ponyboy found that predictably, Dallas got more than he’d bought.
”Alright,” he huffed. “Where is this bastard?”
Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “He said he’d be near Gloria Molina.”
He put in the coordinates in his phone, and raised a brow at the dangling car ornament if it could be called that. It was a decapitated Mr. Met with his eyes crossed out.
”That wasn’t me,” Dallas sighed as he followed his gaze. “The guy who sold it to me gave it to me with the car.”
”Charming,” Ponyboy said dryly.
“That’s Queens,” Dallas snickered. “They like to line up for the bus n’ shit there but you’re still at risk of getting jumped on said bus, as far as I’m concerned.”
They drove to the park, and Ponyboy blinked when Dallas got out with him.
”Wise up and you can go on your little Good Samaritan adventures alone,” Dallas sneered. “Where is he?”
”He’s glaring at you,” Ponyboy sighed. “Just..let’s not cause problems.”
”I never cause problems.”
”Dally.”
”Jeez, tough fucking crowd,” Dallas mumbled. “Go on, Saint Anthony, answer the prayers sent for you.”
“Pretty sure that’s blasphemous,” Ponyboy muttered back as he went onwards anyway.
”What’s he doing here?” Paul snapped.
“Picking me up,” Ponyboy sighed. “Look, he picked out most of the stuff, so take it or leave it.”
”Why?”
Ponyboy blinked. He forgot Dallas’ situation wasn’t well known, or maybe Paul didn’t think he was empathetic enough. It did occur to him that most of Tulsa didn’t know or care how Dallas came to be in this town. He was pretty sure at least one old person called him the Yankee Curse.
”Because he ain’t that bad,” Ponyboy finally said. “I’m gonna be gone for the summer, so just wanted to drop some stuff off.”
”You’re gonna go back to your brother?”
“No,” Ponyboy said and Paul frowned. “They’ll barely notice. Darry’s taking classes actually, so he’s pretty busy.”
Paul’s face softened a bit. “Classes in what?”
”Engineering,” Ponyboy answered. “He was encouraged by a guy who was working one of their projects. I think he’ll be good at it.”
”He will,” Paul said firmly.
Even a year ago, Ponyboy wondered what Darry ever saw in Paul, how he stood to ever be around him. Sometimes he still didn’t know. In that moment, though, he saw the sincerity when Paul talked about Darry. He cared, he was just too cowardly to do anything about it. Ponyboy smoothed over a wince and nodded once more.
“Well, stay safe. See you in the fall?”
“Sure,” Paul muttered.
Ponyboy gave an awkward wave and walked away.
Dallas had busied himself with flirting with some girls. He lathered on his accent extra thick, much to their clear disgruntlement. Dallas didn’t seem deterred, rather he seemed very entertained with himself.
Ponyboy walked past them and let himself into Dallas’ car, or tried to.
“Damn, he piss you off that much?” Dallas asked after him.
”No?” Ponyboy said. “I’m just done. We’re not friends. I’m just helping him.”
Dallas unlocked the car and Ponyboy climbed in.
“You get any numbers?”
”Nah. Wasn’t interested,” Dallas said dismissively.
”You looked interested,” Ponyboy countered.
”I don’t wanna live in LA, and I don’t wanna visit nobody’s family in Ohio,” Dallas told him. “And I didn’t know shit about them, so no, I wasn’t.”
”Why do it then?” Ponyboy asked.
Dallas shrugged. “I guess ‘cause I can.”
Ponyboy frowned to himself. He’d never been good with girls. He sometimes joined in from the back, when someone else, usually Dallas actually, was leading. He had one girlfriend, Cathy, which didn’t work out. It wasn’t a mystery to him; he knew he was queer, probably gay.
It was just so hard sometimes; it was less hard in LA than Oklahoma, but that actually hurt more. He wanted something more serious with Curly, but he’d never get it. It felt almost cruel to try and make Curly change his mind. What future would they have? Once upon a time, Ponyboy thought he was brave enough to be openly queer in Tulsa.
Yet, he walked the streets of Los Angeles and slightly cringed at some of the open displays of queer affection. He still had that instinct of fear, knowing someone could hate crime them, and face no punishment because Oklahoma had no protections in place. Even if he made it to adulthood, they weren’t safe in a state which thought it was alright that kids should endure conversion therapy to ‘turn’ them straight.
At this reflection, something clicked in his mind.
”I guess I should tell you about Darry and Paul,” he told Dallas.
Dallas grunted and Ponyboy began.
When Ponyboy was ten, his father sent him to Darry’s room. Darry had Paul over; Paul didn’t like Ponyboy very much, but he respected Ponyboy more than Soda. Ponyboy was quiet, and he was smart. That was sufficiently tolerable for Paul.
Darry had outgrown his old sneakers a while ago, but Ponyboy needed new sneakers for track.
He didn’t expect Paul to be very happy to be interrupted, but he also didn’t think Paul would react particularly poorly.
Ponyboy lifted his hand to knock on the door, when he caught the conversation going on already.
”You gotta pinkie promise, Dar,” said Paul.
Ponyboy tilted his head. Paul seemed the type to think pinkie promises were stupid and childish. He laughed when Ponyboy made Soda do one so he could come with the gang on their next outing.
There was a silence before Paul continued. “In the Assembly today, my dad…Dar he’s actively protecting this stupid so-called therapy. He says…he says that there’s…there’s things we don’t know though, and there’s a lotta misinformation.”
”Paul, you can’t be serious,” Darry whispered back. “The things we don’t know is that they don’t give a shit if kids get hurt. That’s what we don’t know.“
”You gotta get the exemption, Dar. The schools, they ain’t supposed to be influencing us ‘bout these things. And you’re Christian.”
”Not like that,” Darry huffed. “Paul, there ain’t a thing wrong with being gay.”
Timidly, Ponyboy knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Darry asked, his voice a pitch higher than normal.
”Me,” Ponyboy called shyly.
His brother came to the door and smiled at him, although even then Ponyboy thought he looked nervous.
”How can I help ya, Pony?”
”Dad wants to know if I can have your old shoes for track.”
Darry ruffled his head. “Sure thing. And Pony?”
”Yeah?”
Darry knelt down next to him and took a long look at him.
”You’re gonna do great this season,” Darry finally said gently and patted his shoulder.
The next month, Darry started driving. He couldn’t get his own car, but he practiced with Paul’s car.
They picked Ponyboy up from practice a few times. Paul’s car was nice. It was leather seats and it smelled fresh all the time. Ponyboy always brought a clean T-Shirt and put it on the seat first before sitting.
It became commonplace for there to be an orange Gatorade waiting in the back seat, always unopened.
”It’s yours,” Paul said once as Darry sat in his passenger seat. Paul was always a bit awkward with him, but he was nice enough, for a Soc.
”Thanks,” Ponyboy said.
As time went on, he got other things from Paul. Old books, which were for the most part still in good condition. What Paul forgot, however, were the notes inside the books.
He first saw them and thought it was for an assignment. It was a Jane Austen book, and Paul was the typical All-American fraternity-destined football player.
There was one such line which was underlined with pen: you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. I have loved none but you.
He also had books by Virgina Woolf, James Baldwin, and Oscar Wilde.
“Those are all pretty queer authors,” Ponyboy reported to Dallas.
“I know,” Dallas grunted. “I read Giovanni’s Room, in prison of all places.”
”They had it?” Ponyboy raised a brow.
Dallas shrugged. “People donate books sometimes. Probably got it from the West Village drop off, or something.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Is this a book club or are you telling me about your brother’s failed situationship?” Dallas snarked.
”Sorry,” Ponyboy mumbled.
”Fuck. It was fine.” Dallas actually flushed a bit. “At the time, I thought it was so fucking stupid. Like these fucking morons were so obviously homosexual and it was just this cycle of trying to do stupid shit to prove they were straight. Joey bullying David and David trying to get with women knowing damn well he was fucking men already. I know bisexuality exists, but in the context of the book, his intentions weren’t like that, you hear? Anyways. Then I saw it in real life, in the lockup. And then…as I got a bit older, I started doing it myself. Shitty, I know. Sometimes I still get into the habit of it. I wish I never read it, sometimes, but other times I don’t wish I never read it. Isn’t that fucked up?”
”I think you’re self-aware enough that it hurts a bit—“
”Shut the fuck up, Ponyboy.”
Ponyboy looked out the window for a while, shamed into silence.
He winced as something hit him in the head and he looked down to see one of the chocolate bars. He forgot if it was one they bought or pinched.
”I’m an asshole,” Dallas said bluntly as Ponyboy timidly peeled back the foil. “Okay? You don’t gotta shut up.”
“You wanna hear more?” Ponyboy whispered.
Dallas just grunted.
The last drive they took was longer than usual. Paul got them dinner, and then they went on a drive ‘round the area. They just drove aimlessly for a while. Ponyboy almost fell asleep in the back seat. He actually did for a bit.
“Paul, what are we doing?” Darry finally asked, coincidentally just as he stated to regain consciousness.
”Is the kid asleep?”
”What? Yeah.”
He wasn’t, but Ponyboy kept his limp position.
“We’re gonna be eighteen soon, Dar.”
”Yeah?”
”My dad…this kinda friendship is for kids, you know?”
”What do you mean?” Darry asked tensely.
”We come from different worlds,” Paul said. “We’re gonna go to different places, live different lives. This is a time that’s meant to be our youth, not real life.”
”Are we just make believe now?” Darry asked incredulously.
”I’m gonna marry a woman, Dar,” Paul whispered. “There ain’t no other way.”
”We could leave, find a friendlier state.”
”This ain’t about the state,” Paul responded. “It’s about my family. There’s a few other guys like me. We’re gonna make an alliance, take care of each other between our marriages.”
”You’re using these girls,” Darry breathed.
”They know; they’re using us too. We’re all fake, us Socs. We don’t feel a damn real thing in the world?”
”So you feel nothing now?” Darry choked.
”Not nothing,” Paul admitted. “But that’s the thing. That ain’t good.”
”This is crazy, Paul. You’re a human being, not a…toy for your parents.”
“Not a toy,” Paul confirmed dully. “A tool.”
”Darry cried that night,” Ponyboy told Dallas softly. “First time I realized he could. I didn’t know what to do. I just stayed where I was; he carried me outta the car, and set me down in my bed. He kissed my head and his tears dripped on my cheek. I was so scared, Dally. I never realized Darry could break like that.”
He looked blankly ahead. “He was younger then, yeah, but he was also so hurt. Paul’s words really hurt him. At the rumble, I knew he was trying not to be ashamed of us. I think myself and maybe Soda were the only ones to know how he felt. He was embarrassed, and he was still hurt.”
Bullying was bad when Ponyboy entered high school a year early. His parents actually took him to a counselor. Ponyboy had felt a bit nervous in the shiny office. They looked out of place, with his beat up sneakers and his father’s dusty jeans.
While they were there, many people looked at them oddly. Paul was there, and he was the only one who genuinely didn’t seem to notice them.
He went in before them, and when he went out, he had a folded flyer in his hand. The colors on the other side leaked through, and at the time it seemed so insignificant. His face was almost a ghostly white and his jaw was clenched.
His father shook his head next to him, a firm arm falling on Ponyboy’s shoulders.
When they got back in his father’s truck, his father gave him a stern look.
”You know, your momma and I will always love you boys no matter what right? You never gotta hide anything. And anyone who loves you, really, truly loves you boys, we’ll love them too.”
”I love you too Daddy,” Ponyboy said innocently.
His father finally cracked a smile. “That’s my Pony.”
He pinched Ponyboy’s cheek lightly, just enough to be affectionate, and their day moved on.
Two months after the whole fire fiasco, Darry started going to therapy with Ponyboy.
Well, they tried to.
They stepped foot into the office, and Darry took one look at a vaguely familiar flyer before herding Ponyboy out.
For a reason he couldn’t understand at the time, Darry instead drove the to Oklahoma City, and they went to another therapist.
”What was wrong with the first one?” Ponyboy asked Darry, when they went to Braum’s after the first session. “I thought they were nice enough.”
Darry gave him a humorless smile, although his hand was gentle on Ponyboy’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you someday. I just…I want you to be safe, Pony; I wasn’t fond of some of the things I saw there.”
”Alright.” He finished his ice cream and Darry slung an arm around his shoulder like their father used to.
Ponyboy forgot about his brother’s strange answer, as Darry’s hold felt firm and warm. He was right; Ponyboy was safe, and Darry made sure it was that way.
”I love you Darry,” he said softly as they got in the car.
They were still working things out, and sometimes things didn’t click right away. He still felt Darry should know; it was true, and unfortunately they’d learned life could rip them away from each other all too fast.
”I love you too, baby,” Darry said, and it flooded Ponyboy with warmth once more.
They drove home, where Soda was grinning with almost unnerving enthusiasm over blue mashed potatoes.
Ponyboy was home, and any questions he had could wait until later.
”It was a conversion therapy flyer,” Ponyboy told Dallas solemnly. “I saw it in a newspaper, which I got ‘cause I was in it for winning state championships in my event that year. ‘Cause in Oklahoma people still think they can fix folks like that, and nobody’s gotten rid of yet.”
He looked at his hands. “So this stuff is just out there, like any other therapy.”
”That’s fucked up,” Dallas said bluntly.
”I’m assuming in New York they got rid of it at least ten years ago.”
”No, actually,” Dallas scoffed. “Well, they did, just not that fast. But New York isn’t all, well, rainbows. They’ve been beyond in a lotta stuff, although compared to most places I guess not. My point is, shit ain’t always sweet there either, and you’d be surprised at how shitty things can get there, and I ain’t just talking about me living on the streets.”
He shrugged. “But again, compared to Oklahoma, you’ll be alright there. They’re…fine, all things considered.”
Dallas glanced at Ponyboy. “Is that why you’re so adamant on helping him?”
”I don’t think he ever stood a chance,” Ponyboy admitted. “They were older than me, but still young, when Paul was echoing his father’s rhetoric. He liked Darry, but he couldn’t handle it. And I remember my own father’s pity. I think he was more worried about me, and my situation with the bullying at the time. So we kept going to that therapist because he knew they weren’t gonna talk about making me not be gay. Don’t ask, don’t tell or whatever. But he was distraught enough that he had that talk with me.”
Ponyboy patted his lap. “I don’t know, Dally. It’s just a bad situation overall. Maybe some delusional part of me hopes Paul and Darry can find their way. I’ve always been a stupid romantic, you know.”
“Johnny wouldn’t want you calling yourself stupid for having hope,” Dallas muttered.
”Johnny ain’t here.” Ponyboy raised a brow. “C’mon, Dally, I know you think it’s stupid. It’s okay.”
”I’ve told you kids before, I don’t want you picking up my bad habits,” Dallas sighed.
Ponyboy blinked.
”I know I’m bitter, and I’m selfish,” Dallas said clearly. “I told you to leave those kids and I’d tell you again because I don’t care to lose you over some fucking strangers. Yeah I said it. But you’re not me. You’ve got this love of life. You find meaning in everything, and you’re insistent on doing good ‘cause you’re your parents’ kid and they were fucking good people. You’re a momma’s boy to the best mother ever and I ain’t gonna be the one to ruin that. I wish you’d be more selfish, and I wish you’d be more careful, but it’s hard to be mad at you for the things I admired her for, you know?”
He leaned back, bittersweet smile on his face. “I try to call you not selfish enough, but I’m a hypocrite I guess, ‘cause I didn’t give a shit what happened to me when I saw you on fire. I just knew I had it to get it out of you.”
The sun went down, and Ponyboy watched it silently. It wasn’t as pretty as in Oklahoma, but he liked watching the mesh of gold and orange.
He watched the sky stretch above, and wondered if his parents were watching. His life was filled with uncertainties. Would he ever become anything, or would he join the sea of dreaming baristas and waiters forevermore, just waiting for his shot to come. Would he have to go home to Tulsa, shrouding his truth in the shadows? Would his brothers ever find the love they deserved? Would he? Countless questions circulated his mind, and yet he had one solid answer.
His parents loved him, forever and beyond any universe. His brothers loved him. He had family, and corny as it was, Ponyboy found it was something many of his peers had never known.
Wasn’t that enough?
“Dally,” he whispered.
”Why the fuck are you whispering?”
”I’m a bit nervous,” Ponyboy confessed.
“I can’t kill you from this angle, so chill the fuck out.”
”Dally!”
”Pony,” Dallas mocked him. “Just spit it out, seriously.”
”You took the whole thing with Paul better than I thought,” Ponyboy said.
”You mean at the store? ‘Cause I still hate him.”
”Yeah.”
“Whatever fucked up, loserly, shit he did…” Dallas began. “The shit he’s going through now isn’t justice. Fuck, I sound like a loser too. But it’s true. There’s no lesson. It’s just plain shitty. It’s not something I think anyone deserves, and I know some people think I got no morals but I’ve lived this shit before. It’s not about morality though. It’s about these fucking cities that are unlivable as shit that put people on the streets. There’s no high horse, no holier than thou. Just shit—literally.”
He honked the horn and Ponyboy grimaced as he heard people in the surrounding cars curse them out.
“Everything sucks,” Dallas breathed out in a defeated tone. “And then we’re gonna have to tear Chicago apart trying to find something aside from deep dish pizza and pickle covered hot dogs. Fuck it.”
”You’re so mean,” Ponyboy said but a smile tickled at his lips and his heart lightened.
”I wonder if it’s squishy.” Dallas gave a horrified shudder.
”I’m scared I’m gonna like and then I’ll be stuck with the New York slice,” Ponyboy murmured.
”I’ll throw you outta this car, and you can go ride with that motherfucking Subaru with the stupid ass Patriots sticker. Cape Cod cuck, the fuck is he doing out here?” Dallas ranted before he unrolled the window. “No, YOU CAN’T GET IN MY FUCKING LANE, MOTHERFUCKER!”
Ponyboy braced himself as Dallas and the Subaru yelled at each other while they were going ten miles above the speed limit.
Dallas finally rolled the window up as the Subaru threw a coffee at them.
”You coulda used that, seems like you’re about half asleep with your foot at the wheel,” Dallas said snidely as Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “Honestly, these people got filthy mouths, and they talk like fucking sailors. I can’t believe it!”
”Is this a bad time to say I woulda thought you two were from the same place if I didn’t see their Massachusetts plate?”
”You got your license?” Dallas grunted.
”Yep!”
“Good. I’m getting myself a motherfucking beer or three, I swear, Ponyboy, goddamnit…”