Stay Gold

‘Now entering Tulsa, Oklahoma’, the sign read. In just a few short minutes, I’d be setting foot in my new homeland. This was one of the most ballsy decisions I’ve ever made; to just get up and leave Texas with the [tattered] clothes on my back, and 50 bucks in my pocket. Truthfully, I had no idea where I was going to live, or how I was going to make a living and survive. This was all very scary to me, yet exciting. I had no idea where anything was in Tulsa. Hell, I’ve never even left Dallas, let alone move to an entirely new state!

The bus pulled up to the Tulsa Bus Port, I grabbed my purse and made my way off the bus, onto the walkway. People stared at me like I was some horrible monster, myself not realizing I was still covered in blood. To see what everybody was staring at, I went into the washroom and looked in the mirror.

“Shit,” I said aloud, “I look like hell.”

I kept staring at myself in the mirror, “You did this to me, you sick fuck,” I muttered to myself, referring to my father, still looking at my cut-up face. I started to sob. Not the ‘I want everybody to feel sorry for me’ kind of sobbing, but the ‘I’m in pain, and I’m scared’ type.

I ran some water over my face, trying to remove some of the dried-on, and fresh blood. I looked at myself again, I was still bleeding, not as bad as before, though. I stayed in the washroom for a few more minutes, just staring at myself -- my injuries. I hurt all over, I was almost certain that I had broken a few ribs, but that didn’t stop me from leaving home.

I limped out of the bathroom, and started walking further into town. Several people kept staring at me, a few asked to take me to a hospital, but I refused. Seeing a doctor was the last thing on my to-do list. Who knows, I go to a hospital and get checked out, they call Daddy and he drives to Tulsa to come get me, and then I’m never heard from again. To hell with that idea.

I stumbled across a small bar. Not thinking clearly, I decided to go in. I wasn’t a big drinker, other than stealing Daddy’s whiskey when he wasn’t home. But, in this case, a drink was much-needed.

I made my way up to the counter, “Whiskey sour,” I began, “...And make it a double.”

The bartender looked at me as if I were an idiot, “Ma’am, how old are you?”, He asked.

I glared at him, in the most rude way possible, “Does it really matter how old I am? I am old enough to drink, dammit. Does you see how I damn well look? Now do your fucking job and mix my goddamn drink!”

I sounded like a drunk, but I was stressed. I was tired, I was in pain, and much to my surprise, the bartender served me my drink. I downed that bad boy like it was water. Some men next to me were taking shots, I decided to try and join.

“Mind if I take one?” I smiled slightly.

The bigger man, who couldn’t of been no more than 18, laughed, “This ain’t no game for you, little girl.” His asshole buddies all looked at me and began to laugh as well.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said, shocked. “Listen, if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s sexist bigots like you. I bet you and all your little buddies that I can outdrink you all.”

The man only laughed harder, “Oh, yeah?” He got down to eye-level with me, “And just how much are you betting?”

I smirked, “You’ll see. Hey, soda jerk! Shots of Jack Daniels for me and all of these fine gentlemen.”

The bartender did exactly that.

“On a count of three,” One of the smaller men began, “One, two thr-”

I had already finished my first shot. I smiled innocently, “Loser buys everyone’s drinks. Better pray that you finish those drinks, boys.”

Seven rounds in, and one of the men already vomited everywhere. A few others backed out of the game. It was just myself, two other men, and the tall bastard left.

The same thing happened, “One, two, thr-”, And before anyone could even say ‘three’, I down another shot. For once in a very long time, I felt happy. Great, even.

Four more rounds later, it was just the tall bastard and I, “You sure you don’t wanna give up? I’ll tell you what, because you’re so pretty, I’ll buy your drinks anyway,” He said, drunkenly.

I giggled and held onto the barstool, forcing myself to keep standing, “You’re cute, but that’s not gonna happen,” I said, tapping him on his face.

It might of been the “everything looks better when you’re drunk” thing, but this man was kind of a looker. There was something about him, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

We took a few more shots, before the man finally collapsed to the ground. I started laughing so hard that I almost vomited. I was having fun, I didn’t care that I didn’t know where I was sleeping, or what I was going to do for food. I was just carefree.

I walked out of the bar and stumbled no more than three blocks to a little park, where I fell.

“F-f-fuck!” I slurred. I couldn’t get up. I was sure that I had definitely broken a bone this time. I struggled to get up for the longest time, screaming out every name in the book whilst in a drunken rage.

My eyesight was blurred, however, I made out two manly figures coming my way. I panicked.

“Hey, what’s that?”, I thought I heard one of the figures mumble. They got closer to me.

“It’s a girl, she looks like she’s hurt real bad,” The other figure responded.

At this point, they were practically hovering over me, though, everything was spinning, so it frightened me even more.

One of them grabbed me, I went into a full-on panic and started screaming. I was sure I was going to get raped that night.

“Calm down, we’re not gonna hurt you,” One said. I pushed him away and fell back onto the ground, hitting my head, causing me to go unconscious for a minute.

I woke up in a grassy area with the two figures by me. By this time, I could tell they were boys, not looking much older than 14. I felt something sticky in my hair, I figured it was blood, although I couldn’t see it. I started crying softly.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” The one boy asked.

Still in panic mode and still heavily intoxicated, I began shouting out, “Who are you? Where the hell am I? What the fuck is going on?” I was shaking.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” The other boy replied. “Who are you?” He asked.

Still shaking, I managed to somewhat mumble out my name.

“Your name’s what?” One asked.

I was getting frustrated, “Did you not f-fucking hear me? M-my name i-is E-Elaine Williams.”

I’m not sure how head trauma victims are in Tulsa, but I sure wasn’t up for a round of 20 Questions.

“We really ought to get you to a hospital-” The other boy said, before I cut him off.

“I-I can’t,” I stuttered, still crying, “My life’s at risk... You don’t understand.”

Vision and hearing still blurry, I made out the two boys looking at each other and muttering, “We’ll go to the next best thing,” before I went unconscious again.

I awoke in another strange place, unsure of how long I had been out, or what time it was, but I awoken to a bunch of shouting.

“What the hell?! Why did you guys bring her here?!” Someone yelled, lividly.

“Darry, you don’t understand... We couldn’t just leave her there, she’s hurt really bad!” Someone else yelled out, sounding like one of the boys I had seen in the park.

“She’s not just some stray animal running around on the streets, she’s a person!” The other boy had said, sounding upset.

After listening to everybody bickering, which seemed to go on forever, I finally got the courage to say what was on my mind, “Gentlemen, I’m right fucking here. Stop talking about me as if I’m a vegetable or not here, I can hear everything you are saying!”

One of the boys ran over to my side. He had dark, greasy hair, and a strong build, with movie-star good looks. He looked young, though. 13 or 14, maybe.

“Sorry about that,” He said, smiling a little bit.

I groaned, “It’s okay, but will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on here? Where am I?”

Another boy came over by me, he was smaller than the first one, and had a scar on his face; like he had been in a real bad fight and got cut.

“My friend and I found you last night,” The one began, “A couple blocks away from the bar. You were bleeding pretty bad.”

I raised an eyebrow, “I went to the bar?” I thought to myself. I tried sitting up, with the help of the boy with the scar on his face. I looked down at my clothes, still tattered, covered in blood. I lay back down.

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled, “What did I get myself into? Better yet, for the umpteenth time, who the hell are you? I’m getting fed up of repeating myself, and I have a feeling I’ve done plenty of that within the last few hours...”

The taller boy spoke up first, “I’m Ponyboy, Ponyboy Curtis, but you can call me Pony if you want, I don’t mind.”

I agreed with what he said, even though I still hadn’t quite analyzed everything yet.

“I’m Johnny Cade,” The boy with the scar said, “You’re at Ponyboy’s house,” He said, reassuringly.

I looked over at Ponyboy, still confused and a bit dazed, “Tell me, what the hell kind of name is Ponyboy?”

He laughed, of course and said, “I don’t know, but it’s my name. My dad named me that. It’s different, but I like it. I even have a brother named Sodapop, says so right on his birth certificate!”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Was he the other person here yelling?” I asked.

Ponyboy shook his head, “No, that was my older brother, Darry. We don’t get along that well anymore. He fixes houses for a living. My brother Sodapop dropped out of school and works at the gas station. He’s 17.”

I looked over at Ponyboy, “What about you, then?”

He shrugged, “I’m just me. I like to read and watch movies. I’m still in school...” He paused, “I’m 14.”

“You’re old enough to be in high school?” I laughed a bit, “Both of you?”

“I’m 16,” Johnny called out.

Neither Johnny nor Ponyboy looked their age, I thought they were much younger.

“What’s your story, then?” Johnny asked.

I gave him a blank look, “What?”

“How did you get to Tulsa? What led you to being unconscious in the middle of the street?” He explained.

I took a deep breath and began to tell them about my personal hell, “I grew up in Texas,” I began, “My father hit me a lot, really bad. I’ve even had a broken arm from him. Yesterday, he almost killed me. So, I made a run for it. I ran all the way from my house, too the bus station. I was exhausted, but I needed to cross state lines so he couldn’t get me. I got in town last night, only brought the clothes I’m wearing, and 50 bucks with me. I refuse to go to any doctor or hospital because I’m afraid they’re gonna call my Daddy, and then he’s gonna come and get me and kill me...” I began sobbing again.

Ponyboy grabbed me and pulled me into a hug, “Listen to me, everything will be fine. You’ll never have to go back home. This is your new home, Elaine. I’ll even talk to Darry about you staying here. You’ll never get hurt again, you have Johnny and I to protect you.”

I continued to cry loudly, Johnny rubbed my back.

“Pony’s right, Elaine, everything will be okay,” Reassured Johnny.

I glanced over at him, then looked up at Ponyboy, “Thank you,” I said, softly.

After I had finally calmed down to a point where I wasn’t crying and shaking uncontrollably, Johnny asked, “So, what are you?”

“I...”, I paused, “Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘what are you’?” I questioned, starting to get defensive.

“What are you?” He asked again.

I glared at him, “What do I look like? I’m a girl, dammit-”

Ponyboy broke out into laughter, “Elaine,” He began, “That’s not what he meant. Johnny meant to ask if you were a Soc or not.”

Now I was really confused, and slightly pissed off, “What the fuck is a soc? That sounds like an insult,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Rich kid,” Johnny said, “because you don’t really look like a greaser,” Ponyboy added, from a distance.

“For one,” I began, “I’m no soc, I grew up on a farm doing real work, unlike those kids. For two, I’m not a greaser either... I’m just Elaine.”

“Well, ‘Just Elaine’,” Johnny said, “Do you want to be one of us? We can teach you.”

I had no idea what being a greaser took, I didn’t know what I had to do. But I just smiled slightly, and nodded. These were officially my new friends. My new family, even.