Stay Gold

“Keith Matthews! Did you drink all the damn beer again?” Two-Bit’s mom called out. It made me giggle whenever his mom would call him by his real name. I almost forgot that his name was Keith. If you wanted to know what Two-Bit’s mom was like, picture a more feminine version of Two-Bit, only picture him wearing a moo-moo and house slippers. A beer and smoke in each hand may or may not be included. I liked his mom, though. She was nice and had a sense of humor much like her sons.

“You know I did, so why ya askin’?” He said, half buzzed. The two of us had spent the entire day drinking out of pure boredom while everyone was at work or school.

Two-Bit’s mom came up behind him and slapped him on the back of the head. “Little asshole,” She snapped jokingly. She turned to me, “How ya doin’, Elaine? Feelin’ any better?”

I shrugged and glanced at Two-Bit who was now spread out in front of his TV set downing a beer. “I got a cool scar,” I grinned -- lifting up my t-shirt from where I had my appendix taken out. She bursted out into a loud hoot of laughter.

“C’mon Elaine, let’s go get more beer,” Two-Bit said excitedly. “Ma, you got a few bucks?”

“Do I look like I’m made of money, son?” She rolled her eyes and started digging through her purse and pulling out a five-dollar bill, handing it to me. “How you kids get the hell outta here!” She said, nearly running us out of the house. I liked hanging around Two-Bit’s house sometimes, it was often a lot quieter than my house. Usually more booze there, too. Two-Bit and I stumbled down the street until we reached my house and raced to see who could get in the door quicker. I had an advantage on him because I didn’t smoke all that much compared to him. Two-Bit called me every name in the book and then made fun of my height, not that I cared all that much because I knew he was foolin’. I was surprised that we had such a full house this early in the day. I come in the house to find Pony, Johnny, and Dallas spread out about the house. I wasn’t used to this yet and I’ve been there 4 months.

“Howdy,” I said briefly; looking around the house for something broken or missing. I was feeling what you wouldn’t exactly call happy. In fact, I was madder than hell that everyone was in the house considering how messy everything was. Pillows on the floor. Dishes flowing over the sink. Bits and pieces of god knows what in the nooks and crannies. It was disgusting. “What’s up?”

“Waitin’ on Soda,” Johnny called out from the kitchen. He was rummaging through the ‘fridge. Parents must’ve not fed him last night, I assumed.

“What’re you damn greasers gonna do, rob a gas station?” I learned that it was okay to call another greaser “greaser” or “hood”. Then, it was cool. But when a soc called you “greaser”, “hood”, “trash” or “scum”, it don’t make you feel too hot. Makes you feel pretty rotten, if you think about it.

“Maybe,” Ponyboy smirked, “wanna come?”

“Not if that hood sitting at our kitchen table is coming,” I said jokingly, “and Dallas Winston -- you get your feet off of that table right now!” I yelled, tossing a pillow at his face. Before I knew it, I was on the floor with him on top of me, pinning me down playfully. I didn’t mind it honestly, he had a handsome face, a face you could just stare at for hours on end. It was lovely.

“What’d you say to me?” Dally said with an elfish smirk. You could definitely tell he had spent some time up on the east coast because of his accent.

“What, did I stutter?” I said pushing him off of me and dusting the dust off my pants. “But hey, you listened; you got your dirty feet off my table!”

“Wise-ass,” Dally said under his breath and spread out on the couch. I made my toward the bedroom, tripping over a shoe or something here and there.

“Elaine,” Pony said running up behind me and pushing me away from the bedroom door, “you don’t wanna go in there...”

“Why?” I asked cautiously, “What’d you idiots break now?” That was a little harsh of me to say, but every time someone told me not to go in somewhere, it usually meant they had either wreck the place to hell and back, or broke something. Either one infuriated me.

He glared at me. “You’re a bitch when you’re drinking, you know that?” I grabbed Ponyboy up by his shirt. The two of us just looked at one another. Realizing I promised I’d never hit him again, I let him go. “You see? You see this shit?! I hate it when you drink. You’re a real nice person and all, but not like this...” He paused, “You wanna go in the room, go ahead.”

I never understood why he didn’t want me in there...and then I opened the door.

“Jesus Christ, Elaine! Ponyboy!” Two lovebirds shouted out. Those two lovebirds happened to be Sodapop and Sandy Martin. To my misfortune, I caught them in the middle of something more than just a quick kiss session. This...this was something a lot bigger, sweater. I walked in on them full-on having sex. I immediately covered my eyes and bolted out of the room and out onto the porch. I thought I was gonna be sick. I could hear the laughter of Ponyboy, Dally, and Two-Bit, followed by the angered shouting of Soda. Johnny was his usual quiet self, and I had to give him respect because he never made rude jokes or comments when the other boys did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?!”

“I thought I told you to keep everyone away from the bedroom?!”

“You guys are all fucking assholes!”

I was debating on who was more pissed off, me or Soda? Now I could hear Soda and Pony arguing back and forth, Pony going on about I almost hit him again, and Soda saying that he didn’t care and that Pony couldn’t do anything right. I’ve never heard either of them argue before. From what Johnny and Steve told me once, they never fought until I came along. Now they fought all the time. Watching the people you loved more than life itself fight constantly made you upset. It made you even more wild when you knew that they were fighting because of something you did. I wanted to take a pistol to my head and just blow my brains out with the way I was feeling. I didn’t dig it at all. My only two options were to either stay here and continue being the reason of their arguing, or leave.
Leaving sounded better. Not leaving and coming back hours later, but leaving and never coming back. It was a hasty decision. Instead of leaving town with a change of clothes and fifty bucks, I was leaving with the clothes on my back, five bucks and a switchblade in my pocket...and I did just that. I ran as fast as I could, as long as I could. Would anyone even notice I was gone? Would they even care? I bet they’d all be joyous with me leaving. No extra mouth to feed, no worrying about if I got hurt or if I blew my cover. Finally, no more Dallas Winston.


Who was I kidding, though? I was damn well crazy about Dally, and I wasn’t even denying it. I’d miss him but I’d move on. Dwelling on the past seems to be the thing to do for this generation, but it was something I couldn’t do if I wanted to move on...if I wanted to be successful. How many name changes would I have to go through just to get away from Daddy? Oh, I almost forgot about him. Dirty, filthy Daddy. Those things that he did to me, those things that he would do a thousand times worse if he ever found me. Maybe I deserved it. I was just troubled, runaway youth, right? A hoodlum. That’s how society sees someone like me, right? A drinker, a drug user. The thing is, in this world, you had to do what it takes to survive. I wasn’t privileged like a soc. I never had anyone buy me everything I cried for. How come they were so perfect and had such a good life without even trying for it? How come me and every real person had to work for our cars, work for our homes, work just to get enough food on our table? It just wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fucking fair. Tears were streaming down my face. I wasn’t even sad anymore, I was just angry about how easy the socs’ had it. I was angry at myself. I was angry about all the things happening; all the things I brought upon myself.

What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid? It was all coming to a bittersweet ending, though. And I smiled at the thought of it.