The Fox and the Flower

Mr. Dane's calling after me, shouting, but his words don't reach me and I wouldn't have turned around even if they did. My eyes sting as tears start begging to over flow, but I keep them at bay until I reach the court yard. What am I doing? The right thing to do would be to stay calm and explain what happened, right? No. Sam's a Soc. He'd try to defend himself and they'd take his word over mine in a heart beat. There's nothing I can say, there's nothing I can do, except run. So I do. I run all the way through town as far as I can and only slow a little when I find myself at some railroad tracks. Stopping once under the bridge that runs over the tracks I lean my back against the stone wall.

My breathing is heavy, labored, and I can feel my body heaving against the bridge. I just stand there for awhile, puffy eyed and nose running, listening to the traffic above me and glancing at the one or two trains that pass by. Melodies start running through my mind, sad ones, and my lips repeat them in voice without my noticing. What an image I must be. Some beat up Greaser kid goin' no where singing on the train tracks when she should be in school. I'm almost certain if my parents could see me now, they'd die again from a heart attack. I must've been standing here for a long time 'cause I'm staring to run out of songs and I find myself singing The Beatles. I don't even like The Beatles. Don't get me wrong, their not bad, but I wouldn't put them with my favorite bands to listen to. I finish the last verse in 'Let It Be' when the sound of clapping echos in the air.

"Shirley, I don't have time for your shit." I say without looking over. I know it's her, she's the only one that would bother to come look for me.

"My bad, thought you'd want a coke."

That voice. Nice one Charlotte. My head snaps in the direction of the person and my eyes land on Ponyboy with his hands up like how the cops tell you to. He sees my reaction and gives a wry smile, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You have a nice singin' voice." He says, slightly amused.

Realization hits me and I want to jump in a hole to die.

"How long have you been listenin'?" I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"From Bob Dylan to The Beatles." He replies simply.

So half the time. Great. That's brilliant. Pony takes a few steps forward and leans against the bridge beside me.

"You okay? You ran out of Mr. Dane's room pretty fast and school ended thirty minutes ago."

What am I supposed to say? 'No, 'cause Sam fucking Benton tried to get in my pants and by the way my uncle, ya' know the guy you work for, beat me and my aunt last night. Oh, she's in the hospital to.'? I can't say that, none of that. Instead I just shake my head and keep my mouth shut. Unlike Shirley, he doesn't push me for answers. Instead he just scans me over and lights up a cigarette.

"Can I ask you a question, Ponyboy?" My voice is quiet, but not weak. Kind of tiered sounding really.

"Shoot."

"Why do you work for my uncle if he treats you like shit?"

He doesn't answer me right away. When I look over I see him take a really long drag before letting the smoke drift from the corner of his mouth, like he's in really deep thought.

"I do work, he pays me, that pay helps me and my brothers. Darry works two jobs and Soda's all tied up at the gas station. I have to pull my weight too, or we go under. That answer your question?" The way he says it sounds very irritated and I can tell I've touched a nerve.

"Yeah...Sorry." I say, trying to back pedal my mistake.

Pony lets out a heavy sigh and rests his head back against the wall. Taking one last drag from his cancer stick, he stomps it out and hides his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Nah, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Hey, you still wanna get a coke?" He turns his head to look at me when he says that and it makes my heart skip.

I never noticed his eyes were green. Now, they're nothing like those story book striking emerald green, but more quiet and grey towards the center. They look good on him though, really good. I give half a smile and nod. The corner of his mouth turns up a bit and I'd swear it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. The thought makes blood rush to my ears and for once I'm thankful that my hair is long and thick. I can't have him thinkin' I like him like that. God knows I'll only screw it up.