October Rumble

[Tensleep]

Yes, I forgot what the date was, again. Gotta love how twisted life has been lately.

Rumble, October 08:

Absa-Soda-lutely

I don't know about you all, but October always hits me as Soda's month. So this rumble is devoted to the middle brother. Write a story about, centering around, or from the POV of everyone's favorite blond. 6 pages max.

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

Tens

[murderofcrows]

yay! i've been waiting for you to post this

[Two-Bitty]

I can honestly say that I don't have an idea for this one... a Sodapop month... I'll come up with one! I promise!

[aerodynamics]

Right on, I got a pretty good idea for this one.
Keep an eye out.

[missmouse]

Have an idea, most likely will end up with all the rest of my Rumble ideas: unwritten

[Two-Bitty]

Here we go.

Tombstones Don't Talk Back
Summary: A while after the deaths of his friends, Sodapop goes down to the cemetery and has a heart-to-heart with a tombstone. But it isn’t his friends he’s talking to.
A/N: Title from a quote by Leland Chapman. Sodapop POV.

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I never knew the kid, but I knew what he was like according to what that Cherry Valance told us. He was a good looking kid, tall and generally nice at heart. But once he got a hold on some alcohol, he became weird and different. One moment he could be laughing and having a good old time, then in a blink of an eye, he’d be yelling and cursing, being real violent. Apparently he had a reckless grin, like me, and dark eyes. While Cherry was talking about him, I kept my mouth shut and listened real good for the first time in my life.

After work, I began my journey to the cemetery. Every-now-and-then, I would stop and pick a few wild flowers, putting them in three separate bundles. The bundles grew and grew until I could hold anymore; besides, I was at the cemetery.

I knew where Dallas and Johnny were. Dallas would kill me if he was still around, seeing me put flowers on his grave. I could feel him turning around in his grave, thrashing and yelling like the old Dallas we all knew and loved. Johnny was right next to him. He wouldn’t care if I gave him flowers. I bet he was smiling down there.

But the real reason I was there would take me some more time. I didn’t know where he was, or if he was in this side of the cemetery, or in the cemetery at all. Someone told me that he was, I just hoped that he wasn’t lying to me.

There was man walking around, weaving through the tombstones. I approached him quickly, calling out to get his attention. He worked there from what I could see; he had a flashlight and a set of keys, a uniform and a little badge on. I was at least half a foot taller than him. He gave me a skeptical look, eyeing me through his dark colored bangs, until he spotted the flowers. “What can I do you for?” he asked. It sounded like I was ordering a beer.

“Yeah, uh, I need to find a kid.”

“What’s his name?” he asked.

“Uh, Sheldon, Bob… er, Robert.”

“‘Sheldon’,” he repeated, pulling a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and carefully unfolding it. His little eyes scanned the paper before pointing at a section and looking up. He casually looked at me, grinned, and looked back down. Once he was sure of himself, he said, “Follow this road until you pass two separate roads. It’ll be on your left. The Sheldon’s are there.”

“Thanks.”

So I followed the road for a while, looking around at the tombstones and watching out for his name. Like I said, I’ve never met the guy before and I wanted to pay my respects. Soon I came upon the tombstones he guard, or whatever he was, pointed out to me. I felt stupid, weaving through the stones looking for a simple name. Finally I spotted ‘Sheldon’; now I had to look for his marker. I saw Andy first so I moved to the right of that guy. But I ran into a Smith. I turned and went the other way. Andy, Anna, Bret, and they kept going. I admit, I was looking for a ‘Bob’, but I realized he’d be under Robert.

After what seemed like forever, I found a Robert Sheldon. His grave was covered in various things. Some were wilted roses and daisies, and others were beer cans and globs of hair grease. It seemed like he had a lot of friends, but a number of enemies to even it out. I casually knocked the cans away from his grave, taking one to scoop up the grease. I tried my best to clean it up.

I put my flowers next to the wilted ones and sat down next to the marker. It felt weird, like I was sitting on top of him, a dead kid.

“Hey,” I said softly, trying not to divert any attention. “We never met, but you… ‘met’ my little brother. You probably don’t know his name, but he was young and you tried to drown him. Sure, your pal Randy said it was to scare them, which I understand, but you scared Johnny something awful.”

I stopped, looking hard at the marker, like waiting for an answer, before starting up again.

“They went into hiding because of it. I don’t know the full details, but the church they were hiding at caught fire and my brother and Johnny ran in to save some children. The children were all alright, but Johnny busted his back. Another friend, Dallas Winston, went in to get him out. But Johnny was burned something awful and he didn’t make it. Dallas went crazy and robbed a store, but was shot down by the police before we got to him.”

Again, I waited for an answer.

“You probably heard of Dallas Winston,” I added. I waited again, and this time I got a reply.

“Yeah, he heard of him.”

I turned and saw a tall boy with a simi-Beatles haircut. “Tombstones don‘t talk back,” the kid told me, walking up with a six pack of beer and his other hand in the pocket of his khakis. “Who are you?” he asked, walking over and joining me next to the marker. He sat a six pack of beer next to my flowers.

“Sodapop Curtis.”

I recognized him slightly from the court hearing a while back. I think his name was Randy or something.

“You’re that kid’s… Ponyboy’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Randy,” he said. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“I never met him, and I guessed I should come see him.”

“See if he’s really dead?” he asked, but didn’t let me answer. He picked up the flowers and smelled them. “Must be from Cherry,” Randy said, putting them down.

“From me,” I told him, leaning back on my hands. “And no, not to see if he was really dead. To pay respects. His death was an accident and he shouldn’t of died. How old was he… eighteen?”

“Yeah.”

I began to get up, but Randy grabbed my arm and kept me down. “I’m sure Bob wont mind if we take a couple of beers. Not like he can drink them.”

He let me go and took two beers from the six pack. I took one and sat myself back down. “Why not.”


And as we sat together, talking like we were old friends, I realized something that shook me slightly on the inside. I realized that the gangs were slowly disappearing. There were no longer Greasers or Socs, just people; plain, ordinary people.

When I got home, Darry wondered out loud what I was doing coming home late. I told him I visited the cemetery. I knew he assumed that I was visiting Dallas and Johnny, so I told him I was visiting someone I never met before. He eyed me for a moment.

“Who?” he asked, his voice still hard and stern.

“Robert Sheldon.”

I walked off leaving Darry’s face warped into a confused stare. I decided to let him think about that on his own. I have my own reasons for visiting him, and they were my own and not his.

[Tensleep]

Two-Bitty: I really liked this one. You could see it happening with a character like Soda. His interpretations of Dallas and Johnny being under the ground were interesting, since it doesn't fit with what we usually think of spirits going up to heaven and all that. Could you imagine being stuck in a coffin for forever? *shivers* Anyways, back to the review. I like that he would meet Randy there, too, since it always seemed like there was a connection Ponyboy was trying to make between the two of them. Darry's reaction was a great open-ending, too. Great job, awesome writing!

[Two-Bitty]

I'm not really religious and I didn't want to say that Dallas was in hell or something cause I'm not for that, and other might not be either. So to stay on the safe side, I just imagined Dallas' old corpse and bones thrashing in his coffin. And it's a little different; I remember all the stories that I've read about their deaths of them being in heaven. So, yeah. And thanks, I always liked the Socs for some reason. Randy and Bob were a couple I didn't understand or read about. If I sneak them in, I'm fine. And leaving Darry clueless is fun.

[greaserfreak]

Farewell

I blinked away the tears that were filling my eyes as I watched people walk past me. For the past hour or two, I had watched as people made their way to the front of the church where a closed casket sat. A few of them paused to say hello to me, but I didn't feel like talking. To be honest, I wanted everyone to go away and leave me alone.

"Steve, have you seen Ponyboy?" Darry asked, he had been standing next to the casket, shaking hands and making small talk. Now, he was standing in front of me. He looked old and tired. Not how a twenty-two-year-old should look.

I shook my head. "No, but maybe he's outside smoking a cigarette."

"I'll go check," Darry said. "Oh, and thanks for being here, Steve. It really means a lot to Pony and me."

"Sure," I replied absently as I watched Darry head to the entrance of the church.

I continued to watch people go up to the casket. Girls, both greaser and soc, as well as middle class walked away crying and hugging each other. No one would have guessed that there had been any kind of social class rivalry. A few of them looked across the room at me, and for some reason, that only made them cry harder. Maybe they were remembering that I had been friends with him.

"Soda certainly had a lot of friends," Charles, my boss from the DX station said when he reached me. I had been standing in the same spot since I arrived.

"Yeah," I mumbled, wishing that he would continue to walk up to the casket. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. Fortunately, he started talking to his wife instead. Telling her stories about Soda and I heard my name mentioned too.

"I'm sure going to miss him."

I turned, startled to see Two-Bit standing next to me. For once, he wasn't smiling. Even his eyes held a sadness to them.

"I wish that was me in that casket," I admitted.

"Don't talk like that, Steve," Two-Bit said. "Neither of you should be in there."

"His brothers need him, Two-Bit," I replied. "I need him."

"We all need him," Two-Bit agreed.

"You know, I saw many guys get killed over in Vietnam," I told him. "But I never thought Soda would be one of them."

"Steve, you weren't with him," Two-Bit reminded me.

"I saw enough there to know what happened," I said. "You see it almost every day."

Two-Bit gave my arm a light squeeze before he walked away to go talk to Tim.

I sighed and turned back to a position where I could watch people go up to the casket. Ponyboy was standing a few feet away, trying unsuccessfully not to cry. He glanced over at me before quickly looking away. I realized for the first time that like me, he had been avoiding going up to the casket. He had only been gazing at it from across the room. I took a deep breath and stepped away from my spot against the wall.

"Hey," I said, not sure if I should even attempt to make small talk with Ponyboy.

Ponyboy looked at me and before I knew it, he had thrown his arms around me and was sobbing into my shoulder. I hugged him back, not knowing how to respond. The hug felt releasing somehow, even though the grief was still strong. It was the first time all week that I had seen Ponyboy break down like that, although I was sure he had spent plenty of time crying alone in his room.

"Why did it have to be Soda?" Ponyboy asked between sobs.

"I don't know," I told him. "I don't know why it had to be anybody."

"Darry chose to have the casket closed," Ponyboy said and I knew he was trying his best to have some sort of a conversation.

"That was probably a good decision," I replied.

Ponyboy looked toward the casket. "I never got to say good-bye."

"None of us did," I reminded him. "The service will be starting soon, do you want to go up to the casket with me?"

"I don't think I can," Ponyboy admitted, speaking my own feelings. "But if you go up with me, maybe it won't seem so bad."

The two of us made our way to the casket, passing by sobbing girls and whispering guys who had come to pay their last respects to our brother and friend. When we reach the casket, Ponyboy looked at it for a few seconds before sobbing again. I put my hand on his shoulder as I also started to cry. I didn't intend to cry there in front of a church full of people, it just happened.

Memories of my best friend started to flood my mind as I stare at the closed casket. It didn't seem right that we should be attending his funeral. Funerals were supposed to be for old people who had lived their lives, not an eighteen-year-old who was just starting to live his.

Darry joined us. "The service is about to start now. We should go sit down."

Before we went to the pew that was reserved for us, I watched as Ponyboy took an envelope out of his jacket and laid it on the casket.

"What was that?" I whispered to him.

"A birthday card," he said sadly. "I was going to mail it to him, but now I don't have to. He'll never have another birthday. Like Johnny and Dally, his life ended too soon."

Ponyboy's words hit me as we slid into the pew. He was right. Soda's life ended too soon and maybe that was why it was so hard to say good-bye.

[Two-Bitty]

greaserfreak: That was well-written and almost drove me to the point of tears. You have a way with words, and I don't think anyone else thought of Soda in Vietnam for the Oct. Rumble prompt. Great fic.

[Nittanylizard]

Two-Bitty - nice job, very original! I could see Soda being curious about Bob.

greaserfreak - again, nice job! Ponyboy and Steve finally connect. For some reason I liked the detail about the casket being closed. It gave some good unspoken information.

Liz

[Tensleep]

Greaserfreak: Wow. I really liked that one! It isn't usually a topic writers like to tackle, so good for you! I love the characterization of Steve in here. You can tell he has been through the mill and he's a different person for it, but still the same old Steve. And his connection with Ponyboy - it really comes through that they've both been hit hard. Great job! I look forward to reading more of your work!