Chapter Text
Thick raindrops beat down on the Curtis house as tiny, high-pitched giggles rang out from the living room of the tattered home. Hidden beneath the noise of little boys roughhousing while stuck indoors, and the disgruntled panic of an older man trying to keep them under control, a little girl sat on her mother's lap, crying.
Dressed in a baggy red flannel shirt and oversized jeans that seemed far too big for her tiny frame, the little girl rested against her mother's chest. A tuft of dark-brown, loosely curled hair sat atop her head, messy from a day spent running around with her brothers.
"Mama, why won't the other girls play with me?" she whispered softly as tears rolled down her cheeks.
The girl's mother winced. Compared to the dresses and ribbons the other girls wore, she looked more like one of her brothers than a little lady. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with that—at least not to her mother. But the other children didn't always see it that way. While the little girls of the neighborhood played house and skipped rope, Michelle preferred climbing fences, chasing after her brothers, and coming home with grass stains on her clothes and dirt beneath her fingernails.
Her mother gently brushed a curl from her face and pulled her a little closer. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, her heart aching at the question. "Sometimes people don't understand things that they see as different."
The door creaked open as a man stepped into the room with two little boys trailing behind him.
"Huh, Ponygirl, why are you crying? Did somebody bully you?" the younger of the two boys exclaimed.
Without waiting for an answer, he rushed to her side and clambered onto their mother's lap, nearly knocking Michelle over in the process. Wrapping his small arms around her shoulders, he pulled her into a tight hug.
"Don't cry, Ponygirl," he mumbled. "I'll beat 'em up for you."
The older boy snorted from the doorway.
"Soda, you couldn't beat up a paper bag."
"I could too!" Soda shot back, sticking his tongue out at his older brother.
Despite herself, Michelle let out a small laugh. The sound made her mother's shoulders relax ever so slightly.
"There we go," her father said with a smile. "That's better."
Soda beamed at her. "See? I fixed it."
"You didn't fix nothin'," the older boy muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
For a moment, the rain outside and Michelle's troubles seemed far away. Surrounded by her family, she felt safe.
Her mother cupped her cheek and gently wiped away her tears.
"Michelle, listen to me," she said softly. "Folks are always going to have something to say. They'll tell you how a young lady ought to dress, ought to act, and ought to spend her days. But there's no sense in changing who you are just to please somebody else."
She brushed a loose curl from her daughter's face and smiled.
"You've got a good heart, and that's worth more than all the ribbons and pretty dresses in Tulsa. If climbing trees with your brothers makes you happy, then climb every tree you can find. If you'd rather run through the mud than sit on a porch looking pretty, then do that too."
Her voice grew gentler.
"You don't need to earn a place in this family, sweetheart. You already have one. No matter what anybody says about you, no matter how different you may feel, your father, your brothers, and I will always love you exactly as you are. And as long as we're together, you'll never have to face the world alone."
⋆˙⟡
Thunder rattled the tattered Curtis house and jolted Ponygirl awake. Rain hammered against the roof and windows, washing away the remaining drowsiness she had originally felt.
It had been five months since the death of her parents, and the pain still stung as sharply as ever. Some days it sat quietly in the back of her mind. Other days it felt as though a hole had been torn straight through her chest. Honestly, she didn't think it would ever truly go away.
That dream... it had felt important.
The thought lingered in her mind as she stared up at the dark ceiling. It was ironic, really. The past few months had been filled with nightmares, restless nights, and memories she'd rather forget. Yet for once, she'd been dreaming about something that felt comforting. Something warm.
And now she couldn't remember any of it.
With a frustrated sigh, Ponygirl rolled onto her side and glanced across the room. Soda was still fast asleep, one arm hanging off the edge of his bed and his mouth slightly open.
The steady patter of rain filled the silence. Ponygirl pulled the blanket a little tighter around herself and stared out the window at the dark Tulsa sky, knowing sleep wasn't coming back anytime soon.
Today was the first day of summer vacation.
The start of the long stretch between eighth grade and ninth.
High school.
The thought should have excited her. Most kids spent their summers looking forward to football games, school dances, new teachers, and finally being old enough to call themselves high schoolers. Five months ago, Ponygirl probably would've been excited too.
Now, it just felt like another reminder that the world hadn't stopped turning when her parents died.
No matter how badly she wished it had.
The rain continued to drum against the roof, steady and relentless, while Ponygirl lay awake listening to the house breathe around her. Water raced down the windows in uneven streams, blurring the view of the empty street outside until Tulsa itself seemed to disappear beneath the storm.
Ponygirl shut her eyes and lay perfectly still.
The darkness of the bedroom pressed against her from every side. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning that slipped through the curtains, bathing the room in pale blue for a split second before vanishing again.
Beside her, Soda slept soundly, one arm dangling over the edge of his bed, his breathing slow and steady. Every now and then he muttered something under his breath, rolling over without ever fully waking. Under different circumstances, the sight might have made her smile.
Somewhere downstairs, the old refrigerator rattled loudly before falling quiet again. Pipes groaned somewhere in the walls. Wind slipped through cracks in the siding, producing a low whistle that wandered through the halls like a ghost.
Ponygirl pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
You don't need to earn a place in this family.
The words drifted through her mind unexpectedly.
She frowned.
Where had that come from?
The voice felt familiar—soft and warm, like a hand smoothing tangled hair from her face. For a brief moment she could almost hear it clearly.
A flash of red.
The smell of rain.
Someone laughing.
Ponygirl.
Her chest tightened.
Before she could grasp the memory, the bedroom door creaked open.
The thin strip of light from the hallway spilled across the floorboards, cutting through the darkness. Darry stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. His broad shoulders blocked most of the light, turning him into little more than a silhouette.
"You awake?" he asked quietly.
Ponygirl stared at him for a moment. She considered lying.
"Yeah."
Darry stepped inside, his footsteps soft against the worn floor. The springs in Soda's bed squeaked as Darry glanced toward him. Soda remained completely asleep, sprawled across his mattress as if the sound of the storm and thunder were simply a lullaby.
Darry sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Rain pattered against the windows.
Thunder rumbled somewhere far away.
"Storm bothering you?" he finally asked.
Ponygirl traced the edge of the blanket between her fingers.
"A little."
Darry nodded.
He knew better than to push when she answered like that.
Outside, lightning flashed again, illuminating the room just long enough for her to see the exhaustion etched into his face. The dark circles beneath his eyes. The tension sitting permanently in his shoulders.
He looked older than twenty.
He looked tired.
"You excited for summer?" he asked.
She stared toward the ceiling.
"I guess."
A small breath escaped him.
"You're a lousy liar."
The corner of her mouth twitched.
Silence settled between them once more.
"It's just..." Her voice caught. "Everybody acts like things are supposed to go back to normal."
The words felt heavier once they were spoken aloud.
"There ain't gonna be a normal anymore."
Darry’s words were heavier.
He lowered his gaze to his hands, and for a long time, he didn't talk.
Five months.
Five months since black clothes, far too many flowers, and distant relatives speaking in hushed voices.
Five months since Darry had started working longer hours, since Soda tried too hard to make everybody laugh, since Ponygirl learned exactly how quiet a house could become when two people were missing from it.
When Darry finally spoke, his voice sounded rough.
"When Mom and Dad died, everybody looked at me like I was supposed to know what to do."
He rubbed his palms together.
"Truth is, I didn't."
Ponygirl looked over at him.
Lightning flickered outside.
For an instant, she saw his expression clearly.
Vulnerability.
Exhaustion.
Something dangerously close to guilt.
"I still don't."
The confession settled heavily between them.
Darry Curtis never admitted his own shortcomings.
He was the one who paid the bills, fixed broken pipes, worked long hours, and made sure there was food in the refrigerator. He was the one who had become a father and a brother all at once.
"But we're still here," he said quietly.
His voice was almost lost beneath the rain.
"We got each other."
Ponygirl looked down at her hands.
"…I had a dream."
Darry turned toward her.
"Yeah? Good or bad?”
She hesitated.
"I don't know." She frowned. "It felt good. I can't remember it."
"What do you remember?"
She closed her eyes.
The answer came slowly.
"A woman."
Her throat tightened.
"She was holding me."
The room became very still.
Even the storm seemed quieter now.
Darry looked toward the rain-streaked window.
When he spoke, his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it.
"Maybe you remember more than you think."
Ponygirl opened her eyes.
Darry reached over and gently tucked a loose curl behind her ear.
The gesture stopped her breath.
Their mother used to do that.
"You should try to sleep," he said quietly as he stood. "Big day tomorrow."
She frowned.
"What day?"
"Soda forgot to tell you?"
As if summoned, Soda snorted loudly from across the room and rolled onto his back.
Darry shook his head.
"Steve, Two-Bit, and everybody are coming over tomorrow. Figured we'd celebrate summer starting."
Ponygirl groaned softly.
"The whole gang?"
"The whole gang."
She buried her face slightly into her pillow.
"Great."
A faint smile touched Darry's face.
"You'll survive."
He stood and quietly reached the doorway.
His hand rested against the frame.
For several seconds, he stood there without speaking while rain continued to fall outside.
Then he said quietly:
"Mom would've been proud of you."
Ponygirl looked up, and a bitter feeling slowly rose from her chest.
”I haven’t done anything to make her proud,” she whispered more to herself than to him.
Darry didn't turn around.
The door clicked shut.
Darkness returned.
The storm had begun to move farther away now. The thunder sounded distant, rolling somewhere beyond the city. Rain still fell against the roof, but softer than before.
Ponygirl stared at the ceiling.
Mom would've been proud of you.
The words settled somewhere deep inside her.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.
And somewhere between waking and sleep, she saw dark curls damp from rain, a red flannel hanging from tiny shoulders, and warm hands brushing tears from her cheeks.
A gentle voice drifted through the darkness.
"As long as we're together, you'll never have to face the world alone."
⋆˙⟡
The first month of summer passed without much of a hitch. When Ponygirl wasn't buried under summer assignments or studying ahead for her advanced classes, she was out jogging through the neighborhood to keep herself in shape for the upcoming track season.
Running was a habit she'd picked up from her father and brothers. Darry played football and had been good enough to earn himself a full-ride scholarship, while Soda played basketball. He might not have been the star of the team, but he sure as hell wasn't riding the bench, either.
Their dad had always encouraged them to stay active. Even after long days at work, he'd lace up his sneakers and go for a run around the neighborhood, sometimes dragging his kids along with him. Ponygirl had started joining those runs after a girl in her fifth-grade class called her chubby.
At the time, she had pretended the comment didn't bother her. She'd scowled at the girl, shoved her hands into her pockets, and spent the rest of the day acting like she couldn't care less. But that night, she'd cried quietly into her pillow where nobody could hear.
The following evening, when her father called for the boys to come running with him, Ponygirl quietly followed them out the door.
He never questioned it.
And somewhere along the way, she'd fallen in love with it.
There was something comforting about the steady rhythm of her footsteps against the pavement and the burn in her lungs. When she ran, her thoughts quieted, and for a little while, everything felt simple.
While jogging home, she slowed at the sight of a familiar face standing across the street.
Daisy Matthews.
Two-Bit's younger sister and, at one point, her best friend.
For a moment, Ponygirl almost didn't recognize her.
Her hair, once always in messy braids, had been curled into soft ringlets that framed her face. She wore a pale yellow blouse and a skirt that reached her knees. There was even a hint of pink on her lips that looked suspiciously like her mother's lipstick.
She looked older.
Daisy shifted awkwardly when she noticed her staring.
"Er... hey, Ponygirl." She offered a small smile. "It's been a while."
Ponygirl adjusted the towel draped around her shoulders.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "It's been a while."
An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
It hadn't always been this way.
Once, they had been inseparable.
They'd climbed trees together, chased lightning bugs through the neighborhood, and played stickball with their older brothers until the streetlights came on. Back then, nobody cared that Ponygirl wore jeans or preferred roughhousing to dolls.
Then middle school had rolled around, and everyone except Ponygirl had begun to change.
Invisible lines appeared.
Pretty girls and plain girls.
Popular girls and strange girls.
People who fit in and people who didn't.
Everyone seemed to change except Ponygirl.
Girls began talking about boys, makeup, dances, bras, and movie stars. They curled their hair and borrowed lipstick from their mothers.
The boys grew taller. Their voices cracked. They passed notes in class and developed crushes.
It was that awkward stage between being a kid and becoming your own person, and everyone seemed to know how to become someone new.
Everyone except her.
Daisy changed too.
She spent time with the more popular girls. She styled her hair before school and talked about dances and boys.
Meanwhile, Ponygirl still wore oversized flannel shirts and hand-me-down jeans. She still climbed trees when nobody was watching and would rather spend an afternoon with the gang than sit on a porch painting her nails.
And somewhere along the way, that difference had put a quiet distance between her and Daisy.
Daisy tucked a strand of curled hair behind her ear.
"I heard you're taking advanced classes next year."
Ponygirl nodded.
"Yeah."
"That's nice."
Another silence.
Then Daisy looked down at the sidewalk.
"I was sorry to hear about your parents."
The words were soft, almost timid.
Ponygirl's chest tightened.
"Thanks."
Daisy looked back up at her, and for a moment she looked like the little girl who used to race her to the top of the oak tree in Two-Bit's yard.
"I missed you, y'know."
Ponygirl blinked.
The admission caught her off guard.
"You did?"
Daisy gave a small shrug.
"Course I did. You were my best friend."
The lump in Ponygirl's throat suddenly felt much harder to swallow.
Ponygirl looked down at the cracked sidewalk, suddenly unable to meet Daisy's eyes.
"So... why'd you stop talking to me just like that?"
The question came out sharper than she'd intended. Months of hurt rose into her throat, bitter and hot. She'd spent so long pretending it hadn't bothered her that hearing Daisy say I missed you made all those old feelings come rushing back.
Daisy's smile faded.
She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.
"We just drifted apart."
The answer fell flat between them.
Both of them knew it was a lie.
Ponygirl remembered sitting alone at lunch while Daisy laughed with other girls. She remembered waving in the hall and getting only a quick smile before Daisy hurried off with her new friends. She remembered hearing girls whisper that she acted too much like a boy, that she dressed strangely, that something about her was just... off.
And Daisy had heard those things too.
She didn't defend her.
"You stopped sitting with me," Ponygirl said quietly.
Daisy's shoulders slumped.
"I know."
"You stopped coming over."
"I know."
"You quit talking to me."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The afternoon sun beat down on the pavement, and somewhere farther down the street, a dog barked.
Finally, Daisy sighed.
"I didn't know how to be both people."
Ponygirl frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Daisy glanced toward the ground.
"The girls I started hanging around with thought you were weird."
The truth stung, even though she already knew it.
"They said you acted too much like a boy. That you dressed funny. That you read too much and spent all your time with boys."
Ponygirl folded her arms.
"And you agreed with them?"
"No."
Daisy looked up quickly.
"But I didn't say anything either."
There it was.
The truth.
"I wanted them to like me," Daisy admitted quietly. "And somewhere along the way I stopped being myself."
Silence settled between them.
Then Daisy suddenly smiled.
"Let's hang out."
Ponygirl blinked.
"What?"
"I'm serious." Daisy laughed softly. "I'm not doing anything. Well... actually, truthfully, I'm grounded."
Ponygirl raised an eyebrow.
"What for?"
A grin spread across Daisy's face.
"Got caught with a boy in my room."
Ponygirl nearly choked.
"Daisy!"
"What? He was only there for ten minutes."
"You're dead."
"I know."
Daisy tucked another curl behind her ear.
"My mother would probably be thrilled to know I'm talking to you." Her smile softened. "And I want to. I missed you."
She looked Ponygirl over.
"Do you still draw all the time and read books three grade levels higher than everybody else?"
Ponygirl snorted.
"Do you still get yourself grounded every other week?"
Daisy grinned.
"You already know it."
For the first time since they'd started talking, the tension between them eased.
Ponygirl adjusted the towel around her neck.
"Walk home with me," Ponygirl said. "It's not far."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if Two-Bit was there as well anyway. He can take you home."
As they began walking, Ponygirl couldn't help thinking how ridiculous she was.
It had taken Daisy less than fifteen minutes to apologize, and she could already feel herself beginning to forgive her.
She knew she probably shouldn't.
She knew she had every right to stay angry.
But the truth was simple.
She was lonely.
She had Johnny, of course. Johnny was her best friend, and she trusted him with nearly everything. But there were some things that simply felt impossible to explain to a boy, no matter how kind and understanding he was. Johnny could sit beside her while she cried, but he would never understand what it felt like to watch every other girl suddenly become a young woman while you remained painfully behind.
And Darry and Soda...
Well, they were boys too.
However, it was even worse because they were her brothers.
The last time she'd asked Darry for money to buy clothes that actually fit, he'd nearly suffered a heart attack trying to understand why she suddenly needed new jeans.
Soda wasn't much better. He tried, but his advice usually consisted of smiling and saying everything would work itself out.
As for Dallas, Steve, and Two-Bit—
They were idiots.
Lovable idiots, perhaps, but idiots all the same.
Talking to them about bras, periods, boys, or why every other girl suddenly seemed prettier than you would be like talking to a brick wall.
So having Daisy back felt nice.
It only took a week before they slipped back into old habits.
Ponygirl talked endlessly about books Daisy had missed while they weren't speaking. Daisy filled her in on secret meetings with greaser boys and whispered stories about sneaking out after dark. Being middle-class meant she could move between neighborhoods more easily than most, but there were still expectations. There were still lines people weren't supposed to cross.
Neither girl seemed particularly interested in following them.
Most afternoons found them sitting beneath the shade tree in Two-Bit's yard, talking until the streetlights came on.
And for the first time since her mother's death, Ponygirl realized how much she had missed having another girl in her life.
Someone who understood.
Someone she didn't have to explain herself to.
As silly as it sounded, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to simply be a girl.
⋆˙⟡
The second month of summer was full of changes.
The first was a job.
The local drive-in theater hired Ponygirl to work weekends at the concession stand, and to her surprise, she loved it.
The drive-in sat on the edge of town, its giant screen towering over rows of parked cars. Most nights smelled of popcorn, cigarette smoke, and hot asphalt that had baked all day beneath the Oklahoma sun. Ponygirl spent her shifts standing behind the register, handing out sodas, candy bars, popcorn, and paper cups filled with ice.
The work itself wasn't exciting.
But the paycheck was.
For the first time, she had money that belonged entirely to her.
She no longer had to ask Darry for a few dollars knowing he was worried about electric bills and grocery money. She didn't have to feel guilty asking Soda, knowing he spent most of his paycheck helping keep the household afloat.
Now she could buy her own things.
Shampoo.
Conditioner.
Sanitary pads.
A candy bar if she wanted one.
A used paperback from the bookstore downtown.
Sometimes she'd come home with a sack of gumdrops or a bottle of soda simply because she felt like it.
The amount wasn't much, but the independence meant everything.
The second change was a little harder to get used to.
Ponygirl had started developing.
At first, she hardly noticed.
Her clothes had always been too large, hand-me-down jeans hanging off her hips and oversized flannel shirts swallowing her whole. She spent most days dressed exactly as she always had, and because of that, nobody in the gang seemed to notice the changes happening beneath the layers of fabric.
Not that they would have said anything.
Darry, Soda, Johnny, Steve, Dallas, and Two-Bit had spent their entire lives treating her like one of them. Most of them looked at her the same way they always had: as Ponygirl, the kid sister who also tagged along, had a smart-ass mouth, and could outrun most of the greasers in the neighborhood.
However, that all didn't change the fact that things felt different.
Her shirts fit differently. Her pants fit differently. Her voice changed.
She found herself pulling at her clothes or crossing her arms without really knowing why. Sometimes she caught her reflection in store windows and felt as though she were looking at somebody else.
Daisy was the first person to notice.
One hot afternoon, they sat beneath the oak tree in Two-Bit's yard drinking Coke while Ponygirl talked about a book she'd finished.
Daisy squinted at her.
"What?"
Daisy tilted her head.
"When did that happen?"
Ponygirl frowned.
"When did what happen?"
Daisy pointed vaguely toward her chest.
Ponygirl nearly dropped her soda.
"Oh my God."
"I'm serious."
"There is absolutely nothing there."
"There is absolutely something there."
Ponygirl crossed her arms immediately.
"Daisy."
"I'm just saying."
Her face burned.
She wasn't sure whether she was more embarrassed that Daisy noticed or that nobody else had.
Daisy's expression softened.
"Hey, it ain't a bad thing."
Ponygirl looked down at her sneakers.
"Of course I know that. It just ain't feel right."
"Yeah, it can feel a little weird."
They sat quietly for a moment.
The branches overhead swayed in the warm breeze, and somewhere inside the house, Two-Bit was arguing with his mother about something neither girl could make out.
"I just..." Ponygirl hesitated. "Everybody else figured this stuff out years ago."
Daisy laughed.
"Nobody figures this stuff out."
"You did."
"No, I didn't."
Daisy picked at the label on her bottle.
"I just pretend I know what I'm doing."
Ponygirl looked over at her.
"Really?"
"Really."
For some reason, hearing that made her feel a little less alone.
The truth was, Ponygirl had spent so long feeling behind everyone else that she'd started to believe she had missed some secret lesson all the other girls had learned.
Daisy let out an exasperated huff and set her Coke bottle down a little harder than necessary.
"You better start saving your money," she declared. "High school's right around the corner, and there ain't no way I'm letting you walk in there wearing those old flannels."
She leaned back, studying Ponygirl critically.
"And we oughta figure out what to do with that hair of yours, too."
The last part sounded more like Daisy thinking out loud than speaking directly to her.
Ponygirl frowned.
"Daisy, I'm not exactly in a position to spend money carelessly. What if something happens and Darry or Soda needs it? I need to have something put away in case they need help." She looked down at her bottle. "Besides, whatever extra money I make, I like spending it on my own stuff."
"Pony, didn't you tell me you wished you looked more like the other girls?"
"Er... yeah."
"Then this is the first step."
Daisy leaned forward, her expression softening.
"You're gorgeous, you know that? You look just like your mama, and you oughta show off those good looks."
Ponygirl's face immediately grew warm.
"Your brothers are supposed to worry about you, not the other way around. Darry and Soda are gonna take care of themselves."
She smiled.
"So quit worrying your pretty little head about them, alright? Trust me."
⋆˙⟡
The third month of summer slipped by faster than the first two.
The August heat settled over Tulsa like a heavy blanket, leaving the sidewalks hot enough to burn through the soles of worn sneakers and the air thick enough to make breathing feel like work. Most afternoons found the gang sprawled somewhere in the shade, drinking warm bottles of Coke and complaining about the weather.
Ponygirl spent nearly all of it running around with them.
Dallas, Johnny, and, on occasion, Two-Bit would drag her to the drive-in or downtown movie theaters whenever they had enough money for tickets. Officially, they claimed they wanted company.
Unofficially, Dallas and Two-Bit had discovered that bringing along a sweet-faced fourteen-year-old girl made them look considerably less intimidating.
"Girls trust you more if there's a kid with you," Dallas had explained one evening while they stood in line for tickets.
"I'm not a kid."
Dallas looked down at her.
"Could've fooled me."
Two-Bit grinned.
"You're our secret weapon, Pony."
She rolled her eyes.
Ponygirl couldn't have cared less about their schemes.
She was there for the movies.
The dark theaters.
The smell of popcorn.
The quiet comfort of sitting beside Johnny while the screen flickered overhead.
Johnny rarely talked during films. Sometimes their shoulders touched. Sometimes he'd quietly pass her the last of the popcorn or whisper a joke that only she could hear.
Those evenings were easy.
Nobody expected anything from her.
Nobody asked if she was alright.
For two hours, she could simply sit in the darkness and pretend the world outside didn't exist.
Other nights belonged to Soda.
Whenever he had a few extra dollars in his pocket, he'd drag Ponygirl along on double dates with Sandy and Evie, much to Steve's endless irritation.
"Why's your kid sister gotta come?" Steve would complain.
"Because somebody's gotta make sure you behave," Soda answered every single time.
Steve would groan.
Ponygirl would grin.
Most of those evenings ended with Soda and Sandy walking several feet ahead while Steve pretended he wasn't interested in Evie. Ponygirl usually fell into step beside the girls, listening to conversations about school, makeup, boys, and dresses.
At first she mostly stayed quiet.
But Sandy and Evie never made her feel strange for not knowing what to say.
Sometimes Sandy would ask her opinion about a skirt she wanted to buy.
Sometimes Evie would braid small sections of her hair while they sat together at the drive-in.
For the first time, Ponygirl realized there were all kinds of girls in the world.
Not just the ones who had whispered about her at school.
And then there was Darry.
Those moments were the rarest.
Usually long after midnight.
Usually after Soda had fallen asleep and the house had finally gone quiet.
Ponygirl would come downstairs for a glass of water and find Darry sitting at the kitchen table with bills spread around him, his work boots still on and exhaustion written plainly across his face.
Sometimes he'd look up and ask, "Homework?"
She'd nod.
And without another word, he'd clear a space at the table.
There was nothing extraordinary about those nights.
The yellow kitchen light.
Pencils scattered across the table.
Textbooks balanced beside unpaid bills.
Darry helping her work through algebra problems he barely remembered himself.
Listening while she talked about books he never had time to read.
Correcting her vocabulary words between sips of cold coffee.
Occasionally she would catch him watching her.
Not saying anything.
Just watching.
As if reassuring himself she was still there.
One night, while she worked through a particularly difficult math problem, Darry finally spoke.
"You excited for school?"
Ponygirl stared at the page.
"I guess."
"You nervous?"
"A little."
Darry was quiet for a moment.
"You'll do fine."
She looked up.
"How do you know?"
A small smile touched his face.
"'Cause you're smarter than the rest of us put together."
She laughed softly.
Darry reached over and ruffled her curls.
The gesture surprised them both.
For a split second she saw something flash across his face.
Grief.
Because their mother used to do that.
His hand quickly fell away.
"Get your work done, kid."
Ponygirl lowered her eyes back to the page.
But her chest felt warm.
⋆˙⟡
Daisy Matthews wasn't the brightest girl in class.
She struggled through algebra, dreaded history tests, and had once failed a science quiz because she'd forgotten to write her name on the paper.
Maybe that was part of the reason she'd drifted away from Ponygirl and toward the other girls.
They dressed the part, acted the part, and talked the part of what a young lady was supposed to be. Daisy had spent so long trying to fit in with them that, somewhere along the way, the act had become real.
But what Daisy lacked in academics, she made up for in emotional intelligence.
She could tell when someone was upset before they said a word. She knew when a smile was fake and when somebody needed a hug instead of advice.
Maybe that's why she and Ponygirl had found their way back to each other.
Where Ponygirl understood books, Daisy understood people.
So, when Ponygirl quietly admitted that she was nervous about starting high school and wished she looked more like the other girls, Daisy immediately made it her personal mission to fix the problem.
Which was exactly how the two of them had ended up in a salon on the nicer side of Tulsa.
At the moment, Ponygirl sat nervously in a salon chair while the hairdresser, Mrs. Lorraine Jackson, worked on her hair.
Mrs. Jackson was an older Black woman with warm brown eyes, silver streaks in her curls, and enough personality to fill the entire shop. She specialized in all kinds of curly hair and had spent the better part of an hour explaining that Ponygirl's hair wasn't difficult at all.
"It just ain't been loved properly, baby," she'd said with a smile.
Ponygirl's hair naturally fell somewhere between loose curls and heavy waves, but after washing it, Mrs. Jackson had somehow coaxed springy ringlets from strands Ponygirl hadn't even realized could curl that way.
The entire process fascinated her.
Mrs. Jackson explained every step as she worked.
Why certain shampoos mattered.
Why heat could damage curls.
How to brush it without turning it into a frizzy mess.
How to protect it while sleeping.
Ponygirl listened intently, asking questions every few minutes.
The older woman seemed delighted by her curiosity.
"You're a surprisingly sweet little thing," Mrs. Jackson said as she sectioned another piece of hair. "Polite, too. Your mama raised you right."
The words made Ponygirl's chest ache.
But she smiled anyway.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Mrs. Jackson clicked her tongue.
"And pretty besides. Honey, these curls are gonna turn heads."
Ponygirl's face immediately turned pink.
Daisy, meanwhile, looked unbearably smug.
"I've been trying to tell her that all summer."
Mrs. Jackson laughed.
By the time she finished blow-drying, straightening, and softly curling Ponygirl's hair, the girl in the mirror looked almost unfamiliar.
Her dark hair framed her face in soft curls, making her green eyes seem brighter and her features softer.
For a long moment, Ponygirl simply stared.
Mrs. Jackson smiled at her reflection.
"There she is."
Ponygirl blinked.
"There who is?"
The older woman gently squeezed her shoulder.
"The pretty young lady you've been hiding under all that flannel."
Beside her, Daisy looked like she might burst from excitement.
"Oh my gosh, Pony, you look beautiful."
Ponygirl's cheeks burned.
She wasn't entirely sure she agreed.
But...
She couldn't stop smiling.
After thanking Mrs. Jackson about a dozen times and promising to take good care of her hair, the girls finally stepped out of the salon and onto the sidewalk.
Daisy turned toward her with a grin.
"Well," she said, linking her arm through Ponygirl's, "it's finally time to reinvent that wardrobe of yours."
Ponygirl snorted.
"I have a wardrobe."
"Barely."
"I do."
"Pony, owning six flannel shirts and three pairs of jeans doesn't count as a wardrobe."
"It absolutely does."
Daisy laughed and tugged her toward the next store.
"Come on. We've got work to do."
⋆˙⟡
Ponygirl got home late to find Darry asleep on the old recliner that had once belonged to their father.
The television had long since gone dark, leaving only the faint glow of the kitchen light spilling into the living room. One of Darry's work boots had fallen onto the floor, and his head rested awkwardly against the back of the chair.
He looked exhausted.
The house itself felt strangely quiet.
No Soda.
No Steve.
No Two-Bit laughing loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
The gang must've gone out for the evening.
For a moment, Ponygirl simply stood in the doorway, taking it all in.
Darry sleeping in Dad's chair.
The silence.
Tomorrow.
High school.
She quietly carried her shopping bags upstairs.
After changing into her pajamas, she carefully prepared her hair exactly the way Mrs. Jackson had taught her. The entire process took nearly twenty minutes, and she found herself smiling at how seriously she was taking it.
Daisy would be proud.
Once she finished, she sat cross-legged on her bed and went through everything she'd bought.
A pale blue blouse.
A cream-colored sweater.
Two skirts.
A pair of dark jeans that actually fit.
Several simple tops.
And a pair of white shoes that Mrs. Jackson had insisted on giving her.
Ponygirl was almost certain those shoes were worth more than she'd earned during several weeks at the drive-in.
Mrs. Jackson had simply smiled and said, "Every young lady deserves at least one nice pair of shoes."
Ponygirl had nearly cried.
Beside her sat several blouses and skirts Daisy had practically forced upon her, claiming they suited Ponygirl better anyway.
"You need them more than I do."
Ponygirl knew that wasn't entirely true.
Still, she'd accepted them.
Carefully, she removed the outfit she'd chosen for tomorrow.
The blue blouse.
The dark jeans.
The white shoes.
She hung everything neatly on the closet door and even set her alarm an hour earlier than usual so she could shower before Soda used all the hot water.
For the first time in months, a giddy, nervous excitement bubbled inside her. Tomorrow, she wouldn't look like the strange girl in oversized flannels. Tomorrow, maybe nobody would whisper.
She climbed beneath the covers and stared at the outfit hanging in the darkness.
Tomorrow.
But the happiness vanished as quickly as it came, instantly colliding with a wave of profound guilt. How could she be smiling over new clothes when her parents weren't here to see it?
The night before school, her mother always made a large dinner.
Roast, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls.
Chocolate cake for dessert.
Her father would sit at the head of the table and ask each of them what they wanted from the new school year. Darry talked about football. Soda talked about Sandy. Ponygirl usually talked about books.
Her mother always took pictures.
Her father always teased them.
And afterward, her parents would remind them that no matter what happened at school, they could always come home.
Eight months ago, all of that had disappeared.
Their parents died.
The world kept spinning.
School started.
Bills still arrived.
People still laughed.
The sun still rose every morning.
And somehow...
Ponygirl had kept living.
That realization filled her with guilt.
Because part of her thought she shouldn't be excited.
Shouldn't be looking forward to tomorrow.
And suddenly she remembered.
The night everything went wrong.
It had been Darry's birthday.
The house had been loud. Soda had music playing. Steve and Two-Bit were arguing over something stupid, and their mother was trying to keep everyone out of the kitchen.
Ponygirl had forgotten to pick up the ice cream her mother had asked for.
She remembered apologizing over and over.
"I'm sorry. I forgot. I'll go right now."
She'd already started toward the door when her father reached out and gently caught her shoulder.
"Hey."
She looked up.
He smiled.
The same smile she had spent months trying not to forget.
"Don't worry about it. Your mother and I have to run to the store anyway."
Her mother grabbed her purse.
"We'll be back before you know it."
Her father leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"Hang tight, alright, kiddo?"
And then they left.
Everything after that felt broken.
Blurry.
Like pieces of somebody else's memory.
They never came home. She remembered the phone ringing, and Soda answering it with a smile that quickly faded to a white, horrified stare.
Then calling for Darry.
Steve reached him first.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered.
He dropped the receiver.
And then he started crying.
Not quietly.
Not the way Soda usually cried.
He was gasping for breath.
Hyperventilating.
Shaking.
Everyone stood frozen.
Because Soda Curtis cried easily.
But not like that.
Never like that.
Darry grabbed the phone.
And what he heard on the other end changed all of their lives forever.
Squeezing her eyes shut in the dark bedroom, Ponygirl let out a shaky breath, weeping silently.
Why couldn't she forget?
Why couldn't she just... move on?
The memories never came all at once. They crept in quietly—her mother's laugh, her father's smile, the smell of chocolate cake cooling on the counter—and suddenly it felt as though she were losing them all over again.
She didn't hear the bedroom door creak open.
Didn't hear the soft footsteps crossing the room.
Only when familiar arms wrapped around her shoulders did she realize she wasn't alone.
Darry.
He didn't say anything.
He never seemed to know what to say when the grief hit like this.
Instead, he simply pulled her against him and held on.
Ponygirl leaned into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Tomorrow was the first day of school.
A new year.
A fresh start.
Maybe that was a good thing.
Maybe high school would help.
Not make her forget—she didn't think she ever could—but maybe it would help her carry the memories a little easier.
Maybe she'd laugh more.
Maybe she'd cry less.
Maybe she could learn how to be happy again without feeling guilty for it.
She lifted her gaze toward the outfit hanging on her closet door.
The blue blouse.
The dark jeans.
The white shoes.
Tomorrow would be different.
Darry's arm tightened around her shoulders.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Ponygirl swallowed and shook her head against his chest.
"No," she whispered after a moment. "I don't think I ever will be."