The Fox and the Flower

I sit there in the gas station, holding ice to my face, and listen to Ponyboy as he explains to me what really goes on around here. He tells me about the preps I met in the park, Socs, and then he tells me about himself and his buddies, the Greasers. Once he's finished talking I have some kind of impulse to give him a hug, but hold it back. Back in Texas I remember always thinking that guys like Pony and his buddies were only bad news and that I should always stay away from them. The funny thing is that the people who resembled Socs were what I called the 'safe ones'. Now I'm sure some were probably genuinely nice people, but in the back of my mind I remember watching someone I knew who looked like a Soc beating up a boy who had the Greaser look that Ponyboy described to me. I remember not understanding why and wondering why my friends always told me to not get involved. But now, now I know very well what it was.

"Guess I'm a Greaser now, huh?" I say, a weak smile on my face.

"Welcome to the club. Here you will be shunned by society and told to get lost by anyone with a nice car." He says, a hint of lightheartedness in his voice.

I let a giggle escape my lips, which is weird because I don't giggle. Not even when one of my friends would trip and fall on the ground. I either full out laugh, or just smile. In the dark I can see Ponyboy ruffle his greased hair and turn away from me as he takes another drag from his cigarette. Was he... embarrassed? The thought occurs to me, but I brush it away.

"You got anywhere to go, Charlotte?" He asks, putting the cancer stick out.

"I've got my aunt and uncle, but I don't want them to see me like this." My voice trails off towards the end.

"Oh," he says, like he understood. "You can come to my place and crash for a bit if you want. It's just me and my brothers, I don't think they'd mind any." His southern accent ever present in that sentence which sends my heart skipping again.

I kind of have a thing for boys with southern accent. Granted, I've lived in Texas most of my life and have a slight accent myself, but on boys it sounds way hotter.

"Thanks Ponyboy." I say, giving a small smile.

"Don't mention it," he says standing up and stretching out his back "If we're gonna go then we better get. Darry will be wonderin' what's taking so long."

I want to ask who Darry is, but decide he's probably one of his brothers and stand up too. Ponyboy turns the flashlight off and goes to put the aspirin back before meeting me at the door. Before stepping out into the night again, I dump the ice pack in the trash (it was mostly melted by now anyway) and wait for Pony to lock the gas station back up. He tells me it's best to not mention that we went into the DX tonight. Other wise someone named Sodapop could lose his job for telling where the extra key was. Sodapop? No shortage of originality here, that's for sure. We start the long walk to Pony's house and the more we keep walkin', the more paranoid I start to become. Every thing that moves in the shadows I keep thinking is some Soc looking for a fight and I feel vulnerable knowing I'm not strong enough to take one on. Not like the chilly air was soothing my nerves either. Here I am in late September, at night, wearing a tank top, sweatpants, and slippers. I'm anything but warm right now. But we're nearing what looks to be his house, so I don't say anything.

There's some loud rustling in the shadows by the trees and I flip. I jump back, yelp, the whole shebang. Even do the whole 'grab onto the nearest object' thing. Problem is, I don't know what I grabbed. But I find out real quick when I look up at his face and just freeze. Ponyboy looks down at me with a seemingly blank stare and I turn away to hide the blush I felt creepin' on. Quickly detaching myself from his arm I mutter a 'sorry' and walk ahead. What's wrong with me!? Since when am I that stupid damsel in distress type!? God, he must think I can't handle myself... I stop walking once I reach the fence in front of the house and wait for him to unlock it. Once we're through the fence and in the house there's someone bustling about in the kitchen. Pony tells me to wait in the living room while he goes to talk with his brother and I just nod. Once he disappears into the other room I do my best to listen, but all I can hear is a few selective words like crazy, please, and place. After a couple minutes, Pony appears with a guy much taller and definitely older than either one of us.

"I'm Darry, Pony's brother. I hear you're needin' somewhere to stay for a bit." his voice is deep and comes out very assertive like. Kind of how you'd imagine a fathers would be.

"Yes sir." I say, fiddling with my fingers.

"'Sir'? Nah, call me Darry. Sir sounds too much like a Soc. You can stay. Just don't make it a habit."

A smile breaks across my lips and I nod in response.

"Pony, go get her a pillow or somethin', I'm going to bed." Darry says, patting Ponyboy on the shoulder then disappearing down the hall.

"Told ya' he wouldn't mind." Pony says as he starts looking through the closet by the door.

He pulls a pillow out and sets it down on the couch. After that he begins on a pretty extensive search. He starts looking further into the closet, in the cabinets under the TV, and even underneath the couch. I think he's done when he lets out a slightly frustrated sigh.

"What you lookin' for?"

"A blanket, but I guess we don't have spares..." he trails off.

He stands there for a moment, then I see a sort of 'ah ha' expression cross his face. Without another word, he unzips his jacket and holds it out to me. My first thought is to reject it, but instead I just kind of look at him.

"Take it. It should be plenty warm."

Oh, for Heavens sake Charlotte. Take. The. Jacket. Listening to myself, I take the jacket and slip it on. He's right, it is really warm, and super baggy. But I don't mind, that actually makes it more cozy in my opinion. When I look up at him for a second, just one second, I think I catch him staring at me, but can't tell for sure when he turns around.

"Night Charlotte." he says as he walks towards the hall.

"Night Ponyboy." I say.

Once he's gone I crash down onto the couch and shove my face into the pillow. Lying on my side, I hide my hands inside the sleeves and curl my knees up to my torso. The jacket smells like him. It's kind of a musty smell, like burning firewood and sage mixed together. I've always liked the smell of firewood. It's homey and comforting. So I hold one of the sleeves near my face and let it lull me to sleep. Hopefully when I wake, I wont be crying this time...