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The Outsiders

Day Five

I did the best I could. He went ahead and washed it

anyway, using the bar of soap he'd bought. I was glad I

had had to run away with him instead of with Two-Bit

or Steve or Dally. That would be one thing they'd

never think of soap. I gave him Dally's jacket to wrap

up in, and he sat shivering in the sunlight on the back

steps, leaning against the door, combing his hair back.

It was the first time I could see that he had eyebrows.

He didn't look like Johnny. His forehead was whiter

where his bangs had been; it would have been funny if

we hadn't been so scared. He was still shivering with

cold. "I guess," he said weakly, "I guess we're dis-

guised."

  I leaned back next to him sullenly. "I guess so."

  "Oh, shoot," Johnny said with fake cheerfulness,

"it's just hair.

  "Shoot nothing," I snapped. "It took me a long time

to get that hair just the way I wanted it. And besides,

this just ain't us. It's like being in a Halloween

costume we can't get out of."

  "Well, we got to get used to it," Johnny said with

finality. "We're in big trouble and it's our looks or us."

  I started eating a candy bar. "I'm still tired," I said.

To my surprise, the ground blurred and I felt tears

running down my cheeks. I brushed them off hur-

riedly. Johnny looked as miserable as I felt.

  "I'm sorry I cut your hair off, Ponyboy."

  "Oh, it ain't that," I said between bites of chocolate.

"I mean, not all of it. I'm just a little spooky. I really

don't know what's the matter. I'm just mixed up."

  "I know," Johnny said through chattering teeth as

  we went inside. "Things have been happening so fast

  I put my arm across his shoulders to warm him

  up.

    "Two-Bit shoulda been in that little one-horse store.

  Man, we're in the middle of nowhere; the nearest

  house is two miles away. Things were layin' out wide

  open, just waitin' for somebody slick like Two-Bit to

  come and pick em up. He coulda walked out with half

  the store." He leaned back beside me, and I could feel

  him trembling. "Good ol' Two-Bit," he said in a

  quavering voice. He must have been as homesick as I

  was.

    "Remember how he was wisecrackin' last night?" I

  said. "Last night,  just last night we were walkin'

  Cherry and Marcia over to Two-Bit's. Just last night

  we were layin' in the lot, lookin' up at the stars and

  dreaming. 

    "Stop it!" Johnny gasped from between clenched

  teeth. "Shut up about last night! I killed a kid last

  night. He couldn't of been over seventeen or eighteen,

  and I killed him. How'd you like to live with that?"

  He was crying. I held him like Soda had held him the

  day we found him lying in the lot. 

    "I didn't mean to," he finally blurted out, "but they

  were drownin you, and I was so scared."  He was

  quiet for a minute. "There sure is a lot of blood in

  people."

    He got up suddenly and began pacing back and

  forth, slapping his pockets.

  "Whata we gonna do?" I was crying by then. It was

getting dark and I was cold and lonesome. I closed my

eyes and leaned my head back, but the tears came

anyway.

  "This is my fault," Johnny said in a miserable voice.

He had stopped crying when I started. "For bringin' a

little thirteen-year old kid along. You ought to go

home. You can't get into any trouble. You didn't kill

him."

  "No!" I screamed at him. "I'm fourteen! I've been

fourteen for a month! And I'm in it as much as you

are. I'll stop crying in a minute.  I can't help it."

  He slumped down beside me. "I didn't mean it like

that, Ponyboy. Don't cry, Pony, we'll be okay. Don't

cry."  I leaned against him and bawled until I went

to sleep.

  I woke up late that night. Johnny was resting against

the wall and I was asleep on his shoulder. "Johnny?" I

yawned. "You awake?" I was warm and sleepy.

  "Yeah," he said quietly.

  "We ain't gonna cry no more, are we?"

  "Nope. We're all cried out now. We're gettin' used

to the idea. We're gonna be okay now."

  "That's what I thought," I said drowsily. Then for

the first time since Dally and I had sat down behind

those girls at the Nightly Double, I relaxed. We could

take whatever was coming now.

  The next four or five days were the longest days I've

ever spent in my life. We killed time by reading

Gone with the Wind and playing poker. Johnny

sure did like that book, although he didn't know

anything about the Civil War and even less about

plantations, and I had to explain a lot of it to him. It

amazed me how Johnny could get more meaning out

of some of the stuff in there than I could. I was

supposed to be the deep one. Johnny had failed a year

in school and never made good grades, he couldn't

grasp anything that was shoved at him too fast, and I

guess his teachers thought he was just plain dumb. But

he wasn't. He was just a little slow to get things, and

he liked to explore things once he did get them. He

was especially stuck on the Southern gentlemen-im.

pressed with their manners and charm.

  "I bet they were cool ol' guys," he said, his eyes

glowing, after I had read the part about them riding

into sure death because they were gallant. "They

remind me of Dally."

  "Dally?" I said, startled. "Shoot, he ain't got any

more manners than I do. And you saw how he treated

those girls the other night. Soda's more like them

Southern boys."

  "Yeah,  in the manners bit, and the charm, too, I

guess," Johnny said slowly, "but one night I saw Dally

gettin' picked up by the fuzz, and he kept real cool and

calm the whole time. They was gettin' him for breakin'

out the windows in the school building, and it was

Two-Bit who did that. And Dally knew it. But he just

took the sentence without battin' an eye or even

denyin' it. That's gallant."

  That was the first time I realized the extent of

Johnny's hero worship for Dally Winston. Of all of us,

Dally was the one I liked least. He didn't have Soda's

understanding or dash, or Two-Bits humor, or even

Darry's superman qualities. But I realized that these

three appealed to me because they were like the heroes

in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books

and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.

  Johnny and I never went to the front of the church.

You could see the front from the road, and sometimes

farm kids rode their horses by on their way to the

store. So we stayed in the very back, usually sitting on

the steps and looking across the valley. We could see

for miles; see the ribbon of highway and the small dots

that were houses and cars. We couldn't watch the

sunset, since the back faced east, but I loved to look at

the colors of the fields and the soft shadings of the

horizon.

  One morning I woke up earlier than usual. Johnny

and I slept huddled together for warmth. Dally had

been right when he said it would get cold where we

were going. Being careful not to wake Johnny up, I

went to sit on the steps and smoke a cigarette. The

dawn was coming then. All the lower valley was

covered with mist, and sometimes little pieces of it

broke off and floated away in small clouds. The sky

was lighter in the east, and the horizon was a thin

golden line. The clouds changed from gray to pink,

and the mist was touched with gold. There was a silent

moment when everything held its breath, and then the

sun rose. It was beautiful.

  "Golly" Johnny's voice beside me made me jump

"that sure was pretty."

  "Yeah." I sighed, wishing I had some paint to do a

picture with while the sight was still fresh in my mind.

  "The mist was what was pretty," Johnny said. "All

gold and silver."

  "Uhmmmm," I said, trying to blow a smoke ring.

  "Too bad it couldn't stay like that all the time."

  "Nothing gold can stay." I was remembering a poem

I'd read once.

  "What?"

            "Nature's first green is gold,

            Her hardest hue to hold.

            Her early leaf's a flower;

            But only so an hour.

            Then leaf subsides to leaf.

            So Eden sank to grief,

            So dawn goes down to day.

            Nothing gold can stay."

  Johnny was staring at me. "Where'd you learn that?

That was what I meant."

  "Robert Frost wrote it. He meant more to it than

I'm gettin', though." I was trying to find the meaning

the poet had in mind, but it eluded me. "I always

remembered it because I never quite got what he

meant by it."

  "You know," Johnny said slowly, "I never noticed

colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding

me about them. It seems like they were never there

before." He thought for a minute. "Your family sure is

funny."

  "And what happens to be so funny about it?" I

asked stiffly.

  Johnny looked at me quickly. "I didn't mean noth-

ing. I meant, well, Soda kinda looks like your mother

did, but he acts just exactly like your father. And

Darry is the spittin' image of your father, but he ain't

wild and laughing all the time like he was. He acts like

your mother. And you don't act like either one."

  "I know," I said. "Well," I said, thinking this over,

"you ain't like any of the gang. I mean, I couldn't tell

Two-Bit or Steve or even Darry about the sunrise and

clouds and stuff. I couldn't even remember that poem

around them. I mean, they just don't dig. Just you and

Sodapop. And maybe Cherry Valance."

  Johnny shrugged. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I

guess we're different."

  "Shoot," I said, blowing a perfect smoke ring,

"maybe they are."

  By the fifth day I was so tired of baloney I nearly got

sick every time I looked at it. We had eaten all our

candy bars in the first two days. I was dying for a Pepsi.

I'm what you might call a Pepsi addict. I drink them

like a fiend, and going for five days without one was

about to kill me. Johnny promised to get some if we

ran out of supplies and had to get some more, but that

didn't help me right then. I was smoking a lot more

there than I usually did-I guess because it was some-

thing to do-although Johnny warned me that I

would get sick smoking so much. We were careful with

our cigarettes-if that old church ever caught fire

there'd be no stopping it.

  On the fifth day I had read up to Sherman's siege of

Atlanta in Gone with the Wind, owed Johnny a

hundred and fifty bucks from poker games, smoked

two packs of Camels, and as Johnny had predicted, got

sick. I hadn't eaten anything all day; and smoking on

an empty stomach doesn't make you feel real great. I

curled up in a corner to sleep off the smoke. I was just

about asleep when I heard, as if from a great distance,

a low long whistle that went off in a sudden high note.

I was too sleepy to pay any attention, although Johnny

didn't have any reason to be whistling like that. He

was sitting on the back steps trying to read Gone

with the Wind. I had almost decided that I had

dreamed the outside world and there was nothing real

but baloney sandwiches and the Civil War and the old

church and the mist in the valley. It seemed to me that

I had always lived in the church, or maybe lived

during the Civil War and had somehow got trans-

planted. That shows you what a wild imagination I

have.

  A toe nudged me in the ribs. "Glory," said a rough

but familiar voice, "he looks different with his hair like

that."

  I rolled over and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my

eyes and yawning. Suddenly I blinked.

  "Hey, Dally!"

  "Hey, Ponyboy!" He grinned down at me. "Or

should I say Sleeping Beauty?"

  I never thought I'd live to see the day when I would

be so glad to see Dally Winston, but right then he

meant one thing: contact with the outside world. And

it suddenly became real and vital.

  "How's Sodapop? Are the fuzz after us? Is Darry all

right? Do the boys know where we are? What.

  "Hold on, kid," Dally broke in. "I can't answer

everything at once. You two want to go get something

to eat first? I skipped breakfast and I'm about starved."

  "You're starved?" Johnny was so indignant he

nearly squeaked. I remembered the baloney.

  "Is it safe to go out?" I asked eagerly.

  "Yep." Dally searched his shirt pocket for a cigarette,

and finding none, said, "Gotta cancer stick, Johnny-

cake?"

Johnny tossed him a whole package.

  "The fuzz won't be lookin' for you around here,"

Dally said, lighting up. "They think you've lit out for

Texas. I've got Buck's T bird parked down the road a

little way. Goshamighty, boys, ain't you been eatin'

anything?"

  Johnny looked startled. "Yeah. Whatever gave you

the idea we ain't?"

  Dally shook his head. "You're both pale and you've

lost weight. After this, get out in the sun more. You

look like you've been through the mill."

  I started to say "Look who's talking" but decided it

would be safer not to. Dally needed a shave-a stubble

of colorless beard covered his jaw-and he looked like

he was the one who'd been sleeping in his clothes for a

week instead of us; I knew he hadn't seen a barber in

months. But it was safer not to get mouthy with Dally

Winston.

  "Hey, Ponyboy" he fumbled with a piece of paper

in his back pocket "I gotta letter for you."

  "A letter? Who from?"

  "The President, of course, stupid. It's from Soda."

  "Sodapop?"  I said, bewildered "But how did he

know?"

  "He came over to Buck's a couple of days ago for

something and found that sweat shirt. I told him I

didn't know where you were, but he didn't believe me.

He gave me this letter and half his pay check to give

you. Kid, you ought to see Darry. He's takin' this

mighty hard.

  I wasn't listening. I leaned back against the side of

the church and read:

Pony boy,

  Well I guess you got into some trouble, huh? Darry

and me. nearly went nuts when you ran out like that.

Darry is awful sorry he hit you. You know he didn't

mean it. And then you and Johnny turned up missing

and what with that dead kid in the park and Dally

getting hauled into the station, well it scared us some-

thing awful. The police came by to question us and we

told them as much as we could. I can't believe little old

Johnny could kill somebody. I know Dally knows

where you are, but you know him. He keeps his trap

shut and won't tell me nothing. Darry hasn't got the

slightest notion where you're at and it is nearly killing

him. I wish you'd come back and turn yourselves in

but I guess you can't since Johnny might get hurt. You

sure are famous. You got a paragraph in the newspaper

even. Take care and say hi to Johnny for us.

                                  Sodapop Curtis

  He could improve his spelling, I thought after read-

ing it through three or four times. "How come you got

hauled in?" I asked Dally.

  "Shoot, kid,  he grinned wolfishly "them boys at

the station know me by now. I get hauled in for

everything that happens in our turf. While I was there

I kinda let it slip that y'all were headin' for Texas. So

that's where they're lookin'."

  He took a drag on his cigarette and cussed it

good-naturedly for not being a Kool. Johnny listened

in admiration. "You sure can cuss good, Dally."

  "Sure can," Dally agreed wholeheartedly, proud of

his vocabulary. "But don't you kids get to pickin' up

my bad habits."

  He gave me a hard rub on the head. "Kid, I swear it

don't look like you with your hair all cut off. It used to

look tuff. You and Soda had the coolest-lookin' hair in

town."

  "I know," I said sourly. "I look lousy, but don't rub

it in."

  "Do y'all want somethin' to eat or not?"

  Johnny and I leaped up. "You'd better believe it."

  "Gee," Johnny said wistfully, "it sure will be good

to get into a car again."

"Well," Dally drawled, "I'll give you a ride for your

money."

   Dally always did like to drive fast, as if he didn't

care whether he got where he was going or not, and we

came down the red dirt road off Jay Mountain doing

eighty-five. I like fast driving and Johnny was crazy

about drag races, but we both got a little green around

the gills when Dally took a corner on two wheels with

the brakes screaming. Maybe it was because we hadn't

been in a car for so long.

  We stopped at a Dairy Queen and the first thing I

got was a Pepsi. Johnny and I gorged on barbecue

sandwiches and banana splits.

  "Glory," Dallas said, amazed, watching us gulp the

stuff down. "You don't need to make like every mouth-

ful's your last. I got plenty of money. Take it easy, I

don't want you gettin' sick on me. And I thought I was

hungry!"

  Johnny merely ate faster. I didn't slow down until I

got a headache.

  "I didn't tell y'all something," Dally said, finishing

his third hamburger. "The Socs and us are having

all-out warfare all over the city. That kid you killed

had plenty of friends and all over the town it's Soc

against grease. We can't walk alone at all. I started

carryin' a heater.

  "Dally!" I said, frightened. "You kill people with

heaters!"

  "Ya kill them with switchblades, too, don't ya, kid?"

Dally, said in a hard voice. Johnny gulped. "Don't

worry," Dally went on, "it ain't loaded. I ain't aimin'

to get picked up for murder. But it sure does help a

bluff. Tim Shepard's gang and our outfit are havin' it

out with the Socs tomorrow night at the vacant lot. We

got hold of the president of one of their social clubs

and had a war council. Yeah, Dally sighed, and I

knew he was remembering New York, just like the

good old days. If they win, things go on as usual. If we

do, they stay outa our territory but good. Two-Bit got

jumped a few days ago. Darry and me Came along in

time, but he wasn't havin' too much trouble. Two-Bit's

a good fighter. Hey, I didn't tell you we got us a spy."

  "A spy?" Johnny looked Up from his banana split.

  "That good lookin' broad I tried to pick up that

night you killed the Soc. The redhead, Cherry what's

her name."

                         CHAPTER 6.

Johnny gagged and I almost dropped my hotfudge

sundae. "Cherry?" we both said at the same time. "The

Soc?"

  "Yeah," Dally said "She came over to the vacant lot

the night Two-Bit was jumped. Shepard and some of

his outfit and us were hanging around there when she

drives up in her little ol' Sting Ray. That took a lot of

nerve. Some of us was for jumping her then and there,

her bein' the dead kid's girl and all, but Two-Bit

stopped us. Man, next time I want a broad I'll pick up

my own kind."

  "Yeah," Johnny said slowly, and I wondered if, like

me, he was remembering another voice, also tough and

just deepened into manhood, saying: "Next time you

want a broad, pick up your own kind."  It gave me

the creeps.

  Dally was going on: "She said she felt that the whole

mess was her fault, which it is, and that she'd keep up

with what was comin' off with the Socs in the rumble

and would testify that the Socs were drunk and looking

for a fight and that you fought back in self-defense."

He gave a grim laugh. "That little gal sure does hate

me. I offered to take her over to The Dingo for a Coke

and she said  "No, thank you" and told me where I

could go in very polite terms."

  She was afraid of loving you, I thought. So Cherry

Valance, the cheerleader, Bob's girl, the Soc, was trying

to help us. No, it wasn't Cherry the Soc who was

helping us, it was Cherry the dreamer who watched

sunsets and couldn't stand fights. It was hard to believe

a Soc would help us, even a Soc that dug sunsets. Dally

didn't notice. He had forgotten about it already.

  "Man, this place is out of it. What do they do for

kicks around here, play checkers?" Dally surveyed the

scene without interest. "I ain't never been in the

country before. Have you two?"

  Johnny shook his head but I said, "Dad used to take

us all huntin'. I've been in the country before. How'd

you know about the church?"

  "I got a cousin that lives around here somewheres.

Tipped me off that it'd make a tuff hide-out in case of

something. Hey, Ponyboy, I heard you was the best

shot in the family."

  "Yeah," I said. "Darry always got the most ducks,

though. Him and Dad. Soda and I goofed around too

much, scared most of our game away." I couldn't tell

Dally that I hated to shoot things. He'd think I was

soft.

  "That was a good idea, I mean cuttin' your hair and

bleachin' it. They printed your descriptions in the

paper but you sure wouldn't fit them now."

  Johnny had been quietly finishing his fifth barbecue

sandwich, but now he announced: "We're goin' back

and turn ourselves in."

  It was Dally's turn to gag. Then he swore awhile.

Then he turned to Johnny and demanded: "What?"

  "I said we're goin' back and turn ourselves in,"

Johnny repeated in a quiet voice. I was surprised but

not shocked. I had thought about turning ourselves in

lots of times, but apparently the whole idea was a jolt

to Dallas.

  "I got a good chance of being' let off easy," Johnny

said desperately, and I didn't know if it was Dally he

was trying to convince or himself. "I ain't got no

record with the fuzz and it was self-defense. Ponyboy

and Cherry can testify to that. And I don't aim to stay

in that church all my life."

  That was quite a speech for Johnny. His big black

eyes grew bigger than ever at the thought of going to

the police station, for Johnny had a deathly fear of

cops, but he went on: "We won't tell that you helped

us, Dally, and we'll give you back the gun and what's

left of the money and say we hitchhiked back so you

won't get into trouble. Okay?"

  Dally was chewing the corner of his I D card, which

gave his age as twenty-one so he could buy liquor. "You

sure you want to go back? Us greasers get it worse than

anyone else.

  Johnny nodded. "I'm sure. It ain't fair for Ponyboy

to have to stay up in that church with Darry and Soda

worryin' about him all the time. I don't guess.

he swallowed and tried not to look eager. "I don't

guess my parents are worried about me or anything?"

  "The boys are worried," Dally said in a matter-of-fact

voice. "Two-Bit was for going to Texas to hunt for

you."

  "My parents," Johnny repeated doggedly, "did they

ask about me?"

  "No," snapped Dally, "they didn't. Blast it, Johnny,

what do they matter? Shoot, my old man don't give a

hang whether I'm in jail or dead in a car wreck or

drunk in the gutter. That don't bother me none."

  Johnny didn't say anything. But he stared at the

dashboard with such hurt bewilderment that I could

have bawled.

  Dally cussed under his breath and nearly tore out

the transmission of the T bird as we roared out of the

Dairy Queen. I felt sorry for Dally. He meant it when

he said he didn't care about his parents. But he and

the rest of the gang knew Johnny cared and did

everything they could to make it up to him. I don't

know what it was about Johnny-maybe that lost-

puppy look and those big scared eyes were what made

everyone his big brother. But they couldn't, no matter

how hard they tried, take the place of his parents. I

thought about it for a minute. Darry and Sodapop

were my brothers and I loved both of them, even if

Darry did scare me; but not even Soda could take

Mom and Dad's place. And they were my real brothers,

not just sort of adopted ones. No wonder Johnny was

hurt because his parents didn't want him. Dally could

take it-Dally was of the breed that could take any-

thing, because he was hard and tough, and when he

wasn't; he could turn hard and tough. Johnny was a

good fighter and could play it cool, but he was sensi-

tive and that isn't a good way to be when you're a

greaser.

  "Blast it, Johnny," Dally growled as we flew along

the red road, "why didn't you think of turning yourself

in five days ago? It would have saved a lot of trouble."

  "I was scared," Johnny said with conviction. "I still

am." He ran his finger down one of his short black

sideburns. "I guess we ruined our hair for nothing,

Ponyboy."

  "I guess so." I was glad we were going back. I was

sick of that church. I didn't care if I was bald.

  Dally was scowling, and from long and painful

experience I knew better than to talk to him when his

eyes were blazing like that. I'd likely as not get clob-

bered over the head. That had happened before, just as

it had happened to all the gang at one time or another.

We rarely fought among ourselves-Darry was the

unofficial leader, since he kept his head best, Soda and

Steve had been best friends since grade school and

never fought, and Two-Bit was just too lazy to argue

with anyone. Johnny kept his mouth shut too much to

get into arguments, and nobody ever fought with

Johnny. I kept my mouth shut, too. But Dally was a

different matter. If something beefed him, he didn't

keep quiet about it, and if you rubbed him the wrong

way-look out. Not even Darry wanted to tangle with

him. He was dangerous.

  Johnny just sat there and stared at his feet. He hated

for any one of us to be mad at him. He looked awful

sad. Dally glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. I

looked out the window.

  "Johnny," Dally said in a pleading, high voice, using

a tone I had never heard from him before, "Johnny, I

ain't mad at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You

don't know what a few months in jail can do to you.

Oh, blast it, Johnny" he pushed his white-blond hair

back out of his eyes "you get hardened in jail. I don't

want that to happen to you. Like it happened to

me."

  I kept staring out the window at the rapidly passing

scenery, but I felt my eyes getting round. Dally never

talked like that. Never. Dally didn't give a Yankee

dime about anyone but himself, and he was cold and

hard and mean. He never talked about his past or

being in jail that way, if he talked about it at all, it

Was to brag. And I suddenly thought of Dally, in

jail at the age of ten. Dally growing up in the

streets.

  "Would you rather have me living in hide-outs for

the rest of my life, always on the run?" Johnny asked

seriously.

  If Dally had said yes, Johnny would have gone back

to the church without hesitation. He figured Dally

knew more than he did, and Dally's word was law. But

he never heard Dally's answer, for we had reached the

top of Jay Mountain and Dally suddenly slammed on

the brakes and stared. "Oh, glory!" he whispered. The

church was on fire!

  "Let's go see what the deal is," I said, hopping out.

  "What for?" Dally sounded irritated. "Get back in

here before I beat your head in."

  I knew Dally would have to park the car and catch

me before he could carry out his threat, and Johnny

was already out and following me, so I figured I was

safe. We could hear him cussing us out, but he wasn't

mad enough to come after us. There was a crowd at

the front of the church, mostly little kids, and I

wondered how they'd gotten there so quickly.