Hello

I wake up to screaming in the kitchen and let out a frustrated groan, it seems like fighting is all I hear lately. Suddenly I notice that I’m not alone on the couch and look up with a grin on my face, expecting to find Dally looking down at me. But no, instead Johnny is there, silently stroking the black mess of slept-in, wavy hair on my head. “Are you feeling any better?” Johnny asks in a soft, sad voice. Frowning, as the memories of this afternoon come back to me, I sit up and rub at my forehead. My whole body is sore and I feel tired from the inside out.

“Not really, Johnny,” I answer honestly, too beaten down to even try to hide my feelings from him. “What’s happening in there?” I ask, gesturing to the kitchen, as I stretch my legs out before me and wince in pain of the bruise on my leg.

Johnny looks down and shakes his head, instantly sending me into panic mode. I hop off the couch, before realizing that that was not a good idea, and limping the rest of the way into the kitchen. Dallas is standing at one end of the room, his expression even angrier than usual and his arms folded across his chest. At the other end of the room is Sodapop and Darry, wearing their own versions of the look on Dallas’s face, Soda’s softer because he never looks completely angry, and Darry’s somehow scarier. “We have to do something! How long are we gonna sit around while the Cade’s parents beat them and the Socials think it’s okay to stomp all over us Greasers? It’s about damn time something is done!” he shouts.

“They obviously don’t want us getting involved Dal, and right now they haven’t done anything to prove they can’t fight their own battles,” Darry says in a voice calmer than Dally’s but with a barely controlled tension.

“And as for the Soc’s, we’ve all been fighting them for years, there’s nothing we can do now that will just suddenly make all of this stop,” Soda’s voice is soft, and almost defeated.

I take a step into the room and everybody’s attention turns to me. “How are you feeling, Al?” Soda asks, concern evident in his voice.

“I feel like shit Soda. My whole body hurts and I’m covered in bruises, and then I get the luxury of waking up to you buffoons fighting in here. Let me break this down for you guys,” I begin, shooting Dallas in particular a pointed look. “Nobody is going to go stand up to my dad, okay Dallas? Me and Johnny are fine the way things are. Sure, they could be better but we deal. Now, when it comes to the Soc’s the best thing we can do with Lisa is ignore her, like I should have done earlier today. We ignore her and she’ll get bored. If she really does have a brother who wants to beat up Johnny then we do what we always do, and come together to protect him. But we’re not asking for trouble.” I finally finish my speech and throw up my hands in irritation, grabbing Johnny who came into the kitchen at some point, by the arm and walking into Soda and Pony’s room before anyone can respond. It feels good to get everything off my chest, it’s like the old me is finally coming back and I like that—though I’m more than upset with the situation.

Laying across the bed on my stomach, I put my head in my hands and resist the urge to cry. Johnny sits beside me, and begins rubbing my hair with his darkly tanned hands. After a moment I realize he’s stifling tears and look up, concerned. I almost never see Johnny cry, even though he has just as much right as anyone to do so. His eyes are filled with tears, which he’s aggressively wiping away with the backs of his hand, and his bottom lip is quivering.

“Johnny, what’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up and wrapping my arms tightly around his waist in a bone crunching hug. He lets out a loud sob, completely losing his composure, and holds onto me as tightly as possible. After what feels like an eternity he pulls away and wipes at his tears, lying down beside me on the bed.

“It’s just, I love the gang and I know they’d do anything for us, but sometimes I worry I guess that that affects their judgment. I mean, the Curtis’s can’t be fighting our battles, they have enough issues to deal with and Pony and Soda can’t risk being put in a boy’s home. And Dallas can’t be risking getting put in the cooler again, one of these times he’s going to be put in there for good. And Two-bit and Steve just shouldn’t get involved anyway, it’s not their fight and it’s only going to cause more problems.” His crying slowly lessens as he speaks, as if talking about this makes him feel better.

“I know Johnny. I just can’t shake this feeling that a shit storms about to begin, that these fights are just the starts of something very bad,” I admit, chewing on my full bottom lip.

Before Johnny is able to reply Soda nervously peaks his head into the room and offers the two of us a weak smile. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your room,” I grumble, looking at Johnny and giving him a small smile, to lighten the mood, if only slightly.

“Listen, I’m sorry we were fighting and that we upset you guys.” He comes over and takes a seat at the edge of the bed closest to me. “Dallas just got really upset, but Darry and I are on your side, nobody’s gonna start any drama.” He reaches over and grabs my small hand in his larger one, giving it a light squeeze, which I return. “I think you guy’s should stay here tonight to give your father a chance to cool off. Don’t argue with me this time Allison,” he says, anticipating my protest.

“I was actually going to agree with you,” I chuckle, and he ruffles my hair.

Two-bit and Steve come over later in the night, but Dallas left after the argument, apparently needing to go blow off steam. The possibility of a rumble is discussed, but it’s not one I’m super fond of. Most of the boys love to fight, but I just don’t see the point. Every time there’s a rumble everybody gets hurt and nothing gets resolved. It’s pointless.

The boys leave at eight o’clock, the usual designated time and we are all in bed by nine. In the middle of the night I am awoken by a pounding on the door.

“Ally?” Johnny asks in a sleepy voice, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The pounding continues, and I’m about to get up and see who it is, when a very angry looking Darry comes storming out of his room in just his boxers. “Who the hell would be knocking at this time of night?” he grumbles, making it to the door and throwing it open. Standing there is none other than my father, wearing the same outfit he had been last time I saw him and his eyes blurry with tears.

“Allyson!” he cries out, running into the entryway, but being held back by Darry. Soda and Pony venture out of their room, awaken by the commotion, but Darry yells for them to go back to bed.

“Mr. Cade, you’re going to have to leave. It’s late and everyone’s trying to sleep.” He’s glaring down at the older man his face constricted as he fights to break through.

“I want my god damn daughter! She has no right to be here without my permission, what kind of house are you running Darrel? Letting a young girl stay here with all these teenage boys, it’s sick,” he spits the words at Darry, his face red, from drinking or exertion, I’m not sure.

To everyone’s surprise Johnny jumps up out of his spot, practically shaking with fear and anger, and walks over to the door. “Ally’s safer here than she ever is at home,” he says bravely—standing his ground.

“Oh you little shit!” he screams, trying even harder to push back Darry, and then suddenly his face softens. “Ally, come on, you know daddy doesn’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes I just get angry, why don’t you come home with daddy.” He holds out his hand to me, his face actually seeming to hold regret. I sit there in silence, looking between the boys and my father, unable to move a muscle.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, dad!” Johnny yells. My dad looses it, screaming out obscenities and pushing himself violently at Darry’s chest, and Darry looks like he won’t be able to hold on for much longer.

“Okay, I’ll go home!” I scream out, wanting desperately to end all the fighting. My head is throbbing in my skull and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Sweat gathers at my hairline as I stand up and walk to the door. Everyone has gone silent, and Darry moves away from my father, letting his shoulders sag.

“Are you sure Al?” Johnny asks, resting a hand on my shoulder. I nod, giving him a half-smile to show that I’m alright. “Well I’m going with you then.” Shooting Darry an apologetic look I walk over to my father, cringing as he wraps his arms around my waist and sobs into my hair.

We take the car home, as I look out the window looking for people who may still be out at this time, but I don’t find anyone. The crickets are chirping but besides that it’s almost silent. My dad blubbers on about how sorry he is—something I’m very used to at this point. It’s almost like he still does care about me, because there was once a time when I was his little girl, and I catch a glimpse of that only after he does something to hurt me. It’s obvious that he’s still upset with Johnny, but he doesn’t do anything to hurt him physically so I’m not too concerned. The time he’s not spending apologizing to me is spent going on about how I’m the good child and Johnny is scum. I never will understand why he hates his son so much.

When we arrive at the house Johnny and I instantly get out of the car and start walking up the driveway. All I want is a good night’s rest, and I guess that’s one good thing that’s come out of being suspended—I’ll get to sleep in. My father catches me before I’m able to make it to my room and forces me into one more long hug, kissing my forehead and wishing me a good night’s sleep. It makes me sick when he tries to act like he’s a typical father.

I’m lying in my bed for at least an hour, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on my door and Johnny comes walking in. “Mind if I sleep in here?” he asks.



The sun is seeping through my window and blinding me through my closed eyelids when I awake to a pressure on the bed beside me. Assuming its Johnny I turn over and smile, but quickly realize it’s not Johnny, and rather Sodapop. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, shooting up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “How did you get in without my father seeing you… oh god… you need to leave, if he sees you he’ll go ballistic!” I worry, trying to push him out of the bed.

Soda laughs and shakes his head, putting his arm on my shoulder and pushing me back down. “Calm down Ally, your dad is out and I’m pretty sure your mom’s still sleeping.”

I smile, realizing I probably over-reacted. “Well why are you here then?” I ask, moving on from worry and instead upset because he woke me up from a good dream. It involved James Dean, and things were just getting very good.

“It’s nice to see you too Allyson,” he chuckles. As he stands up I notice he’s wearing his DX shirt and hat, and raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah, you’re coming to work with me today,” he adds, registering what I was looking at. Before I can protest he adds, “You’re not sitting around here sleeping all day. Not gonna happen.”

A groan escapes me as I sit up in bed and attempt to pat down my messy hair with my hands, to no avail. “Fine—you know, I was having a good dream when you woke me up. Rude,” I mutter, hopping out of bed and going to my dresser to pick out clothes for the day.

“There’s plenty of time to dream about me,” he jokes, and then runs out of the room as I throw a pair of underwear at his head. I take a quick shower, throw on a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and matching chucks, and head downstairs—deciding to let my hair air dry. We head down to the DX station, having to walk because Darry already took the car to work. We arrive there soon enough and Soda heads behind the counter, relieving the guy who was working before him of his duties. Grabbing a chair from behind the counter I pull it over, so I’m sitting beside Soda.

It’s always pretty quiet around this time, most people being at work or school—and as a result we get time to talk. “So, I’m sorry about keeping you guys up last night. You must be tired,” I say, embarrassed at my father’s outburst, he’s never shown up at the Curtis’s house before over all the times I’ve slept there.

“It’s no big deal Al, your fathers a dick, it’s not your fault.” Offering me a friendly smile, he reaches over and takes my hand in his. “All we want to do is help you guys, you know that, right?” he asks, looking at me from the tops of his eyes, a gesture I know for a fact makes most girls weak in the knees. I nod, looking down at the slight rips in the knees of my jeans, playing with the fabric.

“I know, it’s just…I don’t know, everything’s so frustrating and I just don’t want any more fighting, ya know?” I confide, looking up and offering him a weak smile. Soda nods his head in understanding and squeezes my hand lightly. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, until finally he breaks it by whispering my name under his breath. “Huh?” I ask, looking at him in questioning. And that’s when he does it, in one swift motion he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.