Stay Gold

I must’ve kept my eyes shut for a good five minutes. My to my surprise, however, I was left untouched. Dally got off me. He was sitting next to me, head between his knees, blade thrown two yards to my left. I looked over at him.

“What in god’s name was that all about?” I demanded, slowly sitting up. “Tell me why you almost gutted me in the middle of the lot?” Thankfully, the lot was somewhat secluded, otherwise Dally could be in jail again, for “attempted murder”, even though him and I both know he wouldn’t have done a damn thing.

Dally pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, taking a long drag. “You kinda ticked me off, kid,” He said, blowing the smoke out of his lungs, “nothing personal.”

“Excuse you?” I snapped, “Almost killing me is ‘nothing personal’? No wonder Sylvia left you, I don’t blame her-”

“Enough about Sylvia, for Pete’s sake Elaine!” I wonder if the gang saw this side of ol’ Dally.

I couldn’t help but giggle. To me, there was nothing funnier than seeing a big, tough guy getting all worked up over a girl. These days, you don’t expect a big man to show feelings like a bitch. It was great.

The two of us sat there, not muttering a word to one another. Not even looking at each other, other than to take turns taking drags off the cancer stick. This went on for what seemed like hours, when only it was about five minutes.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it,” I said quietly, taking a drag off the cancer stick.

“What?”

“I knew you wouldn’t cut me. You wouldn’t have hesitated, you just would have up and done it.”

“How do you know that? I thought I was just bad news?”

“I’ve experienced some stuff, Dallas,” I began, “besides, I’d be a liar if I told you I really meant what I said.” I smiled.

Dally couldn’t help but show off a small smile. He didn’t say anything, though. Even if I hadn’t know Dallas Winston that long, I could still tell that this was a side he didn’t show that often, especially to the gang. He’d be a laughing stock.

“Another way I knew you weren’t gonna do shit...” I paused, “You didn’t have that crazy look in your eyes like my old man did before...you know.” I said, lifting up my shirt; Revealing a long, risen up scar just under my left breast. He examined the scar, gently running his finger along it. I flinched. Not because it hurt me or anything, but because it tickled sort of.

“Your old man did that to you?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I nodded, staring at my feet. “It’s no big deal,” I shrugged, “shit happens. I got over it. It could have been a lot worse, ya know? I’m just thankful I didn’t die coming here, or that I ain’t dead yet.”

I got to thinking, why the hell am I having a conversation like this with Dally, of all people? I wasn’t supposed to like this jerk, let alone have a damn sappy conversation like this with him. Things were weird in Oklahoma. For me, at least. Back home in Texas, I kept my guard up. I never talked about my past or my family to anyone, let alone someone I didn’t particularly care for. Texas wasn’t my home though, not anymore. Oklahoma was. Tulsa was. My Texas family was now dead to me. Ponyboy, Sodapop, Johnny, Two-Bit and the rest of the gang were my family. At least they were now. I wasn’t even a greaser. How are they my family? All these questions were buzzing around my brain like a hive of angry bees. It was too much. I began doing the one thing I was good at: Crying.

“Why you cryin’?” Dally asked, “I didn’t mean any of that shit I said to you before,” He said, trying to calm me down. I pushed him away, the other thing I was good at. Pushing people who were trying to keep me calm, away. I didn’t do it intentionally, though. Half of the time, I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I took a minute to get ahold of myself, to get the tears to stop falling.

“I don’t like talking about my past,” I sighed, “haunts me too much.” Everyone has a bad past that haunts them one way or another, I thought. Whether it being you did something illegal, immoral, or just plain wrong. You were taking that stuff to your grave, burying it six feet under with you. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Dal,” I whispered, “I have a new life...for now at least.” I smiled slightly. I had to stop thinking of all the negative things that have happened to me; I had to start looking at the good in life. I was far away from Texas. I was far away from my old man. I was far away from being beaten like a damn slave. I was free. And to think, this was only the beginning.

“Elaine?”

“Yeah?”

“You ain’t so bad...for a soc.” Dally cracked a smile, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I ain’t no soc, though. I may not be a hood like the gang, but I’m not too far from you guys. I didn’t come from a rich family. We didn’t have much money, to be honest. Sometimes, we barely had enough to get by. Apart from that, I lived with a drunk, like Johnnycake...” I paused, “My old man beat me just about everyday. Every time I’d come to school or go into town with a new cut or bruise, I had to lie. I hated lying. Daddy wasn’t too happy when people finally started catchin’ on and started askin’ questions. He hated it. So finally...” I took a deep breath, “he did the unmentionable to me. I cried. I screamed. But the bastard wouldn’t stop. He kept going. In and out, in and out...until he was finished. ‘You were fantastic, sweetie,’ he’d say. I’d cry more. I felt so...so filthy. I always thought Daddies were supposed to love their daughters, not do horrible things to them like he did to me!”

I was standing now, cussing at the wind, going crazy. My mind was going a hundred miles per hour. I’d never told anybody this story, not even Ponyboy. I didn’t get why I was suddenly telling Dally this, or why he was even listening. I collapsed to the ground sobbing. From anger, from pain, from just about everything. Dally put his arms around me. Holding me, comforting me. I had no idea why he was even doing such a thing, or why I was even letting him. This was all so odd for me. I wasn’t used to such a thing.

“Shhh,” He cooed, “your dad can’t touch you anymore. You’re safe here. You have so many people here that won’t let anything happen to you -- at least not without a fight. You even have me...” He admitted.

That only made me cry harder. The sad thing is, I didn’t even know why that upset me more. I looked up at Dally, who was still holding me.

“Y-You know,” I stuttered, “you a-ain’t so bad after all. I g-guess I was w-w-wrong. I still d-don’t like you too much...” I paused, “But I don’t h-hate you anymore,” I tried to smile.

What I said must have worked, because mean ol’ Dallas Winston cracked a smile as well.