January Rumble

[Tensleep]

Well, first off, Happy New Year to all! I hope that 2008 find everyone well.
And thanks to the interest in the December Rumble, this one exists. Hopefully we see the same wonderful talent shine again this time around.

Rumble January 08:

Fresh Starts

It's a new year and a great time to start fresh.

Write a story about a time when one or all of the boys had to make a fresh start at something. I'm sure you can all use your imaginations here and have fun with it. 8 pages max, can be pre or post book. Have fun.

Ends February 1st

Please copy, paste and post your entries under this tread so we can all enjoy them! I know there are some awesome imaginations on this forum. So get writing!

Tens

[Laughing]

Okay, here goes. Thanks to Katie (stereochick) for beta'ing, as always.


So Much For Hiding



“Damn it!” Darry whispered as he slammed his palm against the wall. His head was pounding, and he couldn’t seem to get his teeth to unclench. Taking a deep breath, he walked to Ponyboy’s room. He rapped on the door. “Pony! We’re not anywhere near through with this. Open the door.”

“Go away,” came his brother’s quiet voice.

Darry opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the front door opening. There was the distinctive sound of shoes being carelessly tossed on the floor, and then Soda yelling, “Did the mail come?”

Darry sighed. He knew he had a few minutes before Soda would actually make his way back to his room, so he slowly opened the door. “Pony?”

Ponyboy was sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up protectively in front of him. “What?” he asked guardedly.

Darry leaned against the doorframe and looked at him. This wasn’t the Pony he knew. Just a month ago, Ponyboy was his carefree, innocent little brother who had two parents and wanted to be just like his big brothers. And now…now there was a kid sitting in front of him, looking scared and worn out.

“What?” Ponyboy asked again.

Darry rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t walk out when I’m talking to you, Pony,” he said tiredly.

“I don’t when you’re talking. I only do when you’re yelling,” Pony said.

“Don’t get mouthy with me.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because…because I said so, damn it!” Darry said, inwardly cringing at having resorted to that line so quickly.

“That’s not an answer,” Ponyboy pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s all you’re going to get from me right now.”

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “Go away, Darry.”

“Ponyboy, I swear…” Darry shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “Why can’t you just listen to me?” he asked, exasperated.

Ponyboy glared at him. “You’re not Dad, Darry,” he said in a hard voice.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m not,” Darry said, and turned to leave, passing Soda on the way.

“Hey Dar—”

“Not now, Soda,” Darry said bitterly. He knew Soda was probably giving his back a confused look, and could faintly hear him asking Pony, “What’s up Darry’s ass today?” Darry just kept walking until he got to the living room, planning on trying to remember which bills were due when, and how long he could go without paying them. His plan was interrupted, however, by Two-Bit’s presence on his couch.

“Howdy, Darry,” he said amiably, glancing up from the TV.

Darry let out an exasperated sigh at the lack of privacy and turned around to retreat to his room. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and let himself slide to the floor. Burying his face in his hands, he closed his eyes. He was tired of feeling like the bad guy all the time. He hadn’t figured out how to get Ponyboy to do his homework or his chores without his brother thinking he was yelling at him. He didn’t know how to get Ponyboy to respect him without being afraid of him, and wasn’t even sure if he wanted Pony to respect him. Darry was still trying to figure out when and how he’d switched from big brother to legal guardian, and it scared him to think he could never switch back. Maybe when Ponyboy turned eighteen they could go back to that. But that was still four years away, he thought, letting his head drop against his chest. Could he do this for four more years? It had only been a month, and he wasn’t even sure if he could do it another day.

Darry heard the phone ring, but didn’t move. He wanted to forget about his responsibility, and just hide in his room for the rest of the night. He was startled when he felt, rather than heard, the knocking on the door he was leaning against. Scrambling up, he opened the door. Two-Bit was standing there, looking nervous. “There’s someone on the phone for you, Dar. Some woman who says she’s with the electric company…she says there was a problem or something…” Two-Bit swallowed before going on, “Uh, she says that she didn’t get any payment. I dunno, I told her she was crazy, which she didn’t seem to like too much, so I think maybe you should talk to her.”

Darry felt a wave of embarrassment pass over him. So much for hiding. “Thanks, Two-Bit. I don’t know why she didn’t get it…”

“Yeah, I figured it was just a mistake,” he said, both of them knowing there wasn’t.

Darry followed him back to the living room, and picked up the phone.

“I got a girl waitin’ on me, so I’d better be goin’. See ya later, Darry,” Two-Bit said before walking out the door.

Darry sighed and began making up excuses to the woman on the phone as to why he hadn’t paid his bill. Twenty minutes later, he was writing out a check to the local electric company, praying it wouldn’t bounce. He took it out to the mailbox, and saw Steve walking up to their house. He nodded to him, and Steve nodded back and went into the house. Darry closed the mailbox and glanced at the sky. The sun was setting, which meant it was time to start dinner. It was Ponyboy’s turn, but Darry didn’t feel like reminding him. He would just do it himself. He walked back inside and headed to the kitchen where he realized he hadn’t set anything out to thaw. He cursed softly and opened the freezer. He found hamburger meat that wouldn’t take too long to unfreeze, and set it in the sink with warm water running over it. He set some water to boil and began peeling potatoes.
Footsteps and then, “oh.” Darry turned and saw Ponyboy.

“Um…I thought it was my night to…uh…” Pony stammered.

“Oh,” Darry said uncomfortably. “Yeah, I thought you’d
forgotten…”

Ponyboy stared at him with a blank face. Deciding he was still mad, he turned and left, which caused Darry to curse again. Just then, the water boiled over, spitting and burning on the stove top. Before Darry could get it all cleaned up, Soda and Steve burst in.

“Hiya, Muscles,” Soda said, which caused Steve to snicker.

“Yeah, all brawn and no brain.” he commented. This hit a nerve in Darry that had been hit too many times that day, and he spun around and punched Steve solidly in the jaw. Steve fell onto the floor, and Soda just stood there, staring down at him.

“Want to help me up there, buddy?” Steve asked coldly.

Soda glanced from Darry to Steve, and slowly shook his head. “I…can’t. You crossed a line, Steve.”

Steve glared, then got up and quickly left, leaving Soda and Darry alone in the kitchen.

“He didn’t mean it, Dar,” Soda offered.

“Hmm. Want to help me with dinner?” he asked calmly. Darry knew there was a good possibility Steve’s jaw was broken because he’d put every frustration of the day into that punch. He felt like a small burden had been lifted, even if the comment had stung. Darry knew there was no way he’d get to college now, but he didn’t like to dwell on it.

Soda gave him a funny look, but took a pan out of the cabinet to put the Shepard’s pie in.

“Could you open a can of peas?” Darry asked as he put the potatoes in the boiling water.

“Sure,” Soda said. “You know, I was talking to Pony.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He feels bad about earlier,” he said.

Darry pursed his lips. “Didn’t seem to a few minutes ago.”

Soda took a bottle of food coloring out of the cabinet. “He doesn’t want to fight with you, Darry.”

Snatching the bottle out of Soda’s hand, Darry said, “Well, neither do I, but he never listens to me.”

“Do you listen to him?” Soda asked quietly.

“I don’t mean listen like that, I mean…he doesn’t do what I ask him to.”

“Yeah, but do you listen to him?”

Darry glanced at Soda. He sighed. “No, I guess I don’t.”

Soda shrugged. “Well, maybe that’s part of your problem,” he said lightly. “Here, why don’t you go make up while I finish this.”
Darry bit his lip. “Okay. But keep everything its original color and flavor, please.”

“No promises,” Soda called as Darry walked down the hall to Ponyboy’s room. He knocked softly on the door before walking in.

“Hey Pony,” he said.

Ponyboy looked up from his book. “Hi.”

“Can I sit?” Darry asked quietly, gesturing to the bed. Ponyboy nodded and scooted over so Darry could sit down. “What are you reading?”

“The Catcher in the Rye.”

“Oh. Um…do you like it?” Darry asked awkwardly.

Ponyboy let a small grin spread over his face. “What are you doing, Dar?” he asked, amused.

“Apologizing.”

Ponyboy raised an eyebrow, then let the grin fade. “I guess I should probably be the one who’s apologizing.”

Darry shrugged. “Want to call it even?”

Ponyboy smiled. “Okay.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here, Pony. With…everything. It’s all messed up, and me and you are fighting, and the bills…”

Ponyboy hunched his shoulders. “I don’t want to leave, Darry,” he said, looking down.

Darry glanced at him. “Who said you were leaving?”

“Well, no one, but… The social worker, you know, she said that it would be easier if you let someone else take care of us.”

“And I said she was crazy.”

“Yeah, but we don’t get along anymore.”

Darry shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. No matter what, you’re staying. Got it?”

Ponyboy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, we can’t keep this up. I know things are changing, and it’s hard to adjust, but I’m your guardian now, Pony. If we’re going to stick together, you’ve got to work with me. So what do you say? Want to start over?”

Ponyboy moved a little closer to Darry. “Okay.”

Darry smiled for what felt like the first time in years, and ruffled Pony’s hair. “Okay.”



[A/N] Is there a way to post something as double spaced? I just went through and pressed 'enter' after every paragraph, but surely there's an easier way?

[hannie]

“Sandra, that baby isn’t going to change itself.”

I was draped over the railing of the old weather-beaten
porch, which wrapped around the front of my grandmother’s old
house and overlooked much of the main street in town. I ignored
her comment and instead gazed dreamily out into the front yard.

One of the things I missed most about being in Tulsa was the
grass. Soft, verdant grass that wasn’t so bristly it just might cut
you open if you dared to lie down in it. The kind of luscious lawns
that weren’t crawling with those terrible fire ants who bite and
sting and give you dreadful red dots on your ankles and feet.

“Sandra?” Grandmother called again.

I also missed being called Sandy. Mostly, I missed the way
Sodapop Curtis would say it.

“Oh, Soda…” I thought with a wistful sigh.

“Sandra Hinton!” Grandmother was suddenly beside me on
the porch looking very perturbed. “Did you hear what I said
child?”

“Yes, Grandmother,” I answered dutifully and led the way
back into the house.

“…never going to make it to heaven with that kind of
ungrateful attitude,” Grandmother was preaching to herself.

When I had first been banished from Tulsa, Grandmother and
I spent our days praying for my salvation. Now Grandmother did
that while I took care of the baby.

He was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen and I was sure
it wasn’t just a mother’s partiality. Even the patronizing women
from Grandmother’s church had said, “For a bastard, he certainly
is handsome.”

“Just like his Daddy,” I’d answered and Grandmother had
almost fainted. She had made it perfectly clear that she couldn’t
abide any talk of ’the rogue that stole my innocence.’ What she
couldn’t understand was that nothing had been stolen from me,
but rather given with all of my heart.

“There’s my little Sodapop,” I said soothingly as I scooped my
most precious possession out of his playpen. “Mamma’s here.”

I could feel Grandmother’s eyes burning a hole in the back of
my head, but I just kept changing Soda. He would be a year old
in a few weeks and was already crawling.

“When are you going to stop this nonsense Sandra?”
Grandmother demanded, clutching her bible in her hands. “Stop
calling the child by that heathen name. I thought we agreed that
we would be calling him Reginald, after your dear Grandfather--
God rest his soul.”

I paused for a minute, then hastily pinned Soda’s diaper
closed, being careful not to stick his soft little belly.

“We never agreed on anything,” I sighed. “I never get to
make decisions for myself anymore.”

“Well, we all know what happens when you do,” She said,
looking pointedly at the baby in my arms.

"His name is Sodapop, Grandmother,” I said firmly. “I named
him after his father, who is a wonderful man, not a heathen.”

Soda wriggled in my arms, anxious to be crawling around the
nursery. I held him tightly though, afraid that if I put him down I’d
never have the strength I so desperately needed.

“Grandmother,” I said shakily, squeezing Soda gently for
some consolation. “We’re leaving.”

Grandmother’s face went from stonily ashen to furiously
scarlet in a matter of seconds as she processed exactly what I
had just said.

“You’re what?” She challenged as I wrestled my suitcase out
of the closet. “You can’t leave! Where will you go? How will you
take care of Reginald?”

I rolled my eyes and started stuffing diapers and bottles and
extra clothes into the suitcase. “Me and Soda will manage just
fine,” I assured her. “I’ve got a little money saved up.”

That little bit of money was exactly enough for a one way
ticket back to Tulsa. I laid Soda in his bassinette, finished
gathering what few belongings I could carry and turned back to
Grandmother.

“I know you meant well,” I sighed, kissing her on her leathery
cheek. “But this boy needs a Daddy. And I need to be someplace
where I’m not going to be punished for the best mistake of my
life.”

Soda cooed from inside his bunting and I couldn’t help but
smile.

“Thank you for everything Grandmother,” I said sincerely. “But
we’d better be going home now.”

Not a single word was able to find its way to Grandmother’s
lips and--to be honest--I was glad. I’d rather leave things as
they were than to leave running from her sermons.

As I stepped out into the bright sunlight form the darkness of
Grandmother’s house, I had one thing on my mind.

“I hope you’re ready to be a daddy Sodapop Curtis.”

[Laughing]

Hannie--nicely done. Way different than most of the Sandy fics I've read, which is a nice change. I hope you continue to post on the site.

[Keira]

Hannie:

That was refreshing and well written. I love how you describe the effects of the Florida sun throughout the story, and the religious ways of the deep south. I even liked how Sandra's last name was Hinton, lol. That was a cute tie in.

I hope to see you posting around here more often, too!

Laughing:

I always love to read the different takes on the early months before the book begins. I like the touching, feel good moments, and even the hardship that comes before those moments can happen. You did an exceptionally good job portraying that. I love the incorportion of Darry hitting Steve, too. Nice way to bring something canon into the story

I don't know about double spacing issues, but I'll look into it and let you all know what I come up with.

[Laughing]

Thanks!

[sharpshooter]

Oh, nice stories!

So Much For Hiding; I don't know why, but I've suddenly started imagining Darry as this really hot, young guy, instead of as Patrick Swayze -no offense- and it's made reading stories with him so much more enjoyable... Not that this story wouldn't have been enjoyable by itself. I think the emotions were dealt with very nicely, but poor Steve. I couldn't help but feel betrayed when Sodapop said he wouldn't help Steve up, maybe he did cross a line, but still...

Anyways, you did a really great job.

hannie; How'd you make it all squished looking? I like that, my eyes don't have to travel as far.
Ugh, as much as I love the South, so many women down there are like Sandy's grandmother, and they would jump all over me when I'd tell them I wasn't whatever religion they were. Right, tell an eight year old she's going to hell if she doesn't go to your church, mature. -.- I did like her though, she's not a normally seen character.
"For a bastard, he certainly is handsome." Ha! I don't know why, but that line has really stuck out to me.

Amazing story!

[hannie]

Thank you laughing, Keira and Sharpshooter. I've been trolling around the site reading everyone's work for a while now, and only just decided to start posting. But hopefully I'll be sticking around from now on.
xo hannie

[bambola]

<sup>Laughing:
I loved this one! I haven't seen Darry written this well in a long time You'd did a really good job with keeping in mind that Darry is still very young. You showed him as being over-whemled, like most 20 year-olds would be, rather then aloof and uncaring (god, I hate that Darry stereotype). Two moments I especially appreciated were when Darry just goes into his room and slides down to the floor once he closes the door (teehee a rhyme...), and when Two-Bit and Darry both make excuses about the lady calling about the eletricity bill even though they both know the truth. It was nice having Two-Bit not joke about something for once, and I always imagined that Darry would be closer to Two-Bit than any other non-family members of then gang, due to their close ages.

Oh, I have to add this in too! Ironically, this "feedback" that I'm writing now is what's helping me procrastinate from doing my english novel study homework. Which novel you ask? Why none other than The Catcher in the Rye! God, I can't even escape it for one second. I wonder what Ponyboy did think of the book... I have a feeling he would relate Holden to Dally. They are very similar with their "hating-the-world" complexes. Although Holden is definately more messed up than Dally...

I'll stop rambling now and save all that fun stuff for my homework

Hannie:
Yay! A sympathetic Sandy story. And a realistic one too ;D Great job on this. I liked the little details like the dry grass and how she named her baby Sodapop. Part of me always wondered if she really just lied about cheating to protect Soda. Pony did describe her as being so nice afterall...

I wish you would continue on with this, even though it's supposed to be just a one-shot. I would like to see Soda's (and Darry's and Pony's) reaction to the baby.

Smile!
Bambola</sup>

[Laughing]

Thanks sharpshooter and Bambola! You're too nice. And yeah, sharpshooter, that line seemed pretty harsh to me too, but in the book Pony said that that was the only time he ever saw Soda mad at Steve, so...
I loved The Catcher in the Rye, Bambola. I never had to read it for school though.

(ach, I think I'm too used to having that reply to review button...I can't help it!)

I can't wait for more people to write--I think this was a great prompt.

[Maddiecake]

I'm not sure if this applies to this, but I thought it might work. This was right before he decided not to participate in the rumble

Red Tie

“Get ready, man.”

I let out a shaky breath as I struggled to tie the tie that hung around my neck, limp and foreboding. When I tied it, I knew there was no more hiding the truth… he was gone, and there was no going back.

Others around me were putting the finishing touches on their outfits, sadness in their expressions and movements. We had never thought that it would end this way, but I didn’t think they actually saw this for what it was. Although I hated to admit it, I was afraid. Truly afraid of what I would do now that he was gone, and what everyone would become.

David placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, all ready to go in his black suit and a red tie that stood out amid the dark colours. When he had first arrived he passed it off as not having another tie to wear, but I found it insulting. It was a funeral, for Christ’s sake! He could have bought a tie… he had the money for it, anyway.

My parents already left, which left me to ride with Stan because David was already taking Arthur. We got quietly into our cars, not a word of goodbye because we’d be seeing each other soon.

In the car Stan stared straight ahead, tears standing in his eyes. The way he was brought up (the way all of us were brought up) taught him that men didn’t cry, and he stubbornly held back his tears as we drove slowly down the street.

To get to the cemetery one had to drive past the park, and as we did I turned my face away from it, instead staring at the run-down houses of the east side. I could never forgive myself for what had happened, not for him and not for the others involved.

After what seemed like hours we came to a stop outside the cemetery. The sun was shining bright, making me uncomfortable in my black suit. As we approached I saw some of the guys wearing only the white shirts beneath their sportcoats, and it irked me more than I would ever had admitted.

Coming closer proved a hard task, for already I could feel the sadness pressing in on me. His mother stood off to the side, eyes red from crying and mascara running down her cheeks. His father stood right by her, arm around her waist in a half-hug. He had an expression on his face that made him look like a confused child, looking for an answer from someone who was wiser than he was.

I’d never seen adults so lost and in a way it contributed to my sadness and anxiety. My eyes moved of their own accord toward the coffin that lay near the freshly-dug grave, and my stomach heaved at the thought of my best friend lying in that silk-lined coffin that I had seen him in at the wake only days before. It was open-coffin, and I hadn’t known what to say to him. In fact, I felt stupid just standing there staring at him, trying to think of what I could say to him. There wasn’t a lot to say. We had been so close that I had very little secrets kept from him, and I had told him all I had to tell him when I was alive.

Now, my friend was not visible to the world, smooth wood covering his deathly pale face, his closed eyes and clothes that were too uncomfortable to actually look good on him. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed as I stared at the headstone, reading the words but not taking them in.

At last the minister stepped forward, bible in hand. He was a young man, looking a little older than myself. His expression was solemn, but he spoke with a tone that suggested he didn’t care about the teenager that was being put to rest. It disturbed me, looking at the small crowd and the minister, that only a few people actually cared about him.

With a few handfuls of dirt on top of the casket, it was lowered into the grave. Its progress was painstakingly slow, but there was at last a soft thud that indicated it had reached its destination.

The crowd stood there for a moment, staring at the hole that was now occupied by Robert Sheldon, and then they began to disperse. As David passed he clapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Randy. We’ll get those greasers that did this to ‘im.”

“Sure we will, Dave…”

“No, I’m serious! We’ll beat ‘em so bad that they won’t know what’s what.”

I stared at my friend for a moment, seeing him in a different light. His blue eyes were filled with mischief, excitement that shouldn’t have been there when he spoke of hurting others, and yet there it was. David had a certain… look to him that gave me the impression he wasn’t just going to beat them.

“So, you in?”

Without another word I loped off, unable to give David an answer that we would both be pleased with.

[sharpshooter]

Red Tie; Aw, I actually had tears forming in my eyes. It's very refreshing to read a story from a 'Socs' point of view that doesn't depict them as being a bad person, and lets you see that things really are 'rough all over'. Unfortunatly, all I can imagine Randy as is a hippie...

I liked it a lot, but Maddicake, have you noticed your stories always put a damper on the good vibes we've got goin' on here? Ha, not really, it's good to see a varity of stories. x3

[Laughing]

Maddiecake--that was really awesome. I think Randy is such a great character, and you really did him justice. I like that you're not entirely sure who the narrator is at the beginning--so many of the characters had to have attended funerals that it could have been anyone at first. I like that Randy is seeing all these people in a light that shows them for who they really are, and that that's not something that appeals to him. I think that this piece really applies to the "fresh start" prompt because Randy is resolving to be different than he used to be, and that you conveyed that without coming out and saying it is really great.

[Maddiecake]

<sup>Sharpshooter: Thanks so much, and I don't remember... in TWTTIN, was he actually a hippie? Some guy named Randy was mentioned, but I was never quite sure.

As for the whole damper thing, yeah... I have a habit of doing that. It's not intentional, it's just that early on in my fanfiction-writing "career" I used up most of the humor I had xD

Laughing: I'm glad you think it fits in, and thanks for the compliments! This is the first time I've actually written about Randy (although I have written about Bob, once).

Also, I loved your story. Darry was so in-character it was just fantastic, because most fanfiction authors portray him as either being a jerk or just... very sappy. It's nice to see someone get him right for once</sup>

[Tensleep]

Wow to all of you! This is amazing so far!

Laughing: I thought that was an awesome look at a tough night for Darry. I can imagine just wanting to hide myself and having nowhere to go, even though you are in charge just makes it all that more confining. Great job!

Hannie: Interesting take on the challenge! I like the very opposing views Sandy and her grandmother have on everything. I love how you can feel the oppression Sandy feels as a single mother and how she wouldn't want her child around those kinds of people once he got old enough to understand what was being said. Very nice.

Maddiecake: Another very different look at the challenge. I like the emotions that came out in this one. It really had that desolate feel to it. Great job!

Keep 'em coming!