Chapter Text
July, 1964. Page One
Happy thirteenth birthday to me, I guess. It was a good day today, but it's a little cloudy. I don't like the clouds, 'cause it's going to rain. Probably.
I don't know what time it is, mom just told me to go to bed so I'd have enough energy for tomorrow. It's dark. I wish I was older like Darry, so I could stay up longer, go out longer, everything that is good in this life. I got this jurnl journal as a present from dad. I had been complaining about my old journal running out of pages for a few weeks now, so I'm thankful for that.
Soda made the cake for today. It was lumpy, too sweet, but it was still delicious. I haven't blown out candles in a while, but I got to today. Dad brought them home after he came back from work, he gave them to mom instead of Soda, though. He was cooking the cake, I don't understand why he didn't get the candles? Maybe dad didn't trust him. Soda was a little eccentric sometimes. He could've burned himself if he lit the candles.
When I blew out the candles, do you know how people always say to make a wish? Well, I did. I wished for everyone around me to have a good life, but I don't think I need to share it. It discredits it, doesn't it? I want it to happen.
Johnny had came over for the party, too. He's my best friend, I don't think I can imagine my life without him, he's like the sun to my moon, since he sort of brightens up my life. I found him when I was six and he was eight in the lot that he liked to stay in when his folks would argue. He was sitting in a tree. I hate his parents. I don't understand what parents would behave like that. His parents were decent when he was younger, but now? They argue so loud it echoes down the street. Steve (eugh) also came over. He was Soda's best friend. I didn't like him at all.
Mom kissed me on the head when I took the first bite of the chocolate cake with pink frosting. I think I look more like a mix of her and dad, but Soda looks like mom more, and Darry looks like dad. I have her hair, her eyes, her smile, and dad's face amongst other things. It's probably his attitude that I have, or his determination. I doubt it's his attitude, I think Darry got that instead. I like my parents equally, but I prefer mom more.
Pink frosting, didn't I say that? I wrote that. I didn't say that. I can look back. I'm writing. That was on the cake, it was going to expire soon anyways, it was a good use. I don't think I dig pink frosting. Not because of gender roles, girl is pink, boy is blue, whatever that is, I just don't like hot pink.
Really, I do hope nobody reads these entries, it's stupid. I ramble for too long. Ramble sounds like rumble. I don't really like rumbles, but I also do at the same time. All of the other greasers love rumbles, probably because it just makes them look tough. Tough is rough, for whatever historian finds this in the attic of me and my future wife's house. But tuff is cool.
Anyways, I'm running out of space. I liked today. My past few birthdays were chaotic, like on my tenth my grandparents died. I liked them a little bit. On my twelfth, I twisted my ankle. My ankle still hurts to this day. On my eleventh, (my next year English teacher will be mad at me for going out of order) I found out I was allergic to the dessert I had. I don't know what triggered it, but it tasted a little like a banana. I don't dig it anymore, not in the slightest. The next time I tried banana, I broke out in red on my cheeks and had hives.
My hands hurt now, so I should probably stop writing. I hope my next birthday is peaceful, and mom cooks the cake. I don't want Soda baking ever again, he's like a bomb ready to explode. To whoever reads this, I hope you had a good time, because my wrists certainly didn't. I start cross country in a few days, I don't know if I'll write during that.
-Ponyboy Curtis