❝ HE'S A GOOD GUY
NOT MANY PEOPLE KNOW THAT ❞

–

"Now, I hope your Shakespeare essays are coming along nicely. A quick reminder they're due on the twenty-first, which may seem long ways away, but believe it or not, due dates are closer than they appear, am I right Matthews?" My English teacher tapped his finger against the desk and eyed Two-bit from across the room, who raised his head just in time notice him glowering.

"Yes, sir."

"So I do believe that you won't be starting it on the twentieth, then?"

"Nearly finished, sir." Two bit raised his lips in a lopsided smile. Mr. Jones responded with a grunt and quickened his vexed pencil tapping.

"Then you wouldn't mind reading me your thesis?"

Two-bit poked his cheek with his tongue and shuffled in his seat, scrambling to open his binder. He sat behind me in English with Soda to our right, who was suppressing a laugh.

"What's the essay on, again?" He raised his head and gave the teacher a grin. The class erupted in laughter.

Mr. Jones had this ugly vein on his temple that popped out when he was mad. It was prominent and frightening.

"Funny you've managed to write nearly an entire essay and have not an idea what it's on. This should be an interesting thesis. Why do we read Romeo and Juliet, Matthews? What's the significance?"

"The significance," he repeated, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his chin, "is that there is no significance. Romeo and Juliet is insignificant, sir."

Mr. Jones sighed and scratched his stubble, bending over his front desk. His vein was back in his temple and he appeared more annoyed than mad because Two Bit was always coming to his class and making a joke of him. Although, with his histrionic ways, he made a joke of himself more often than not.

"While you may be right, or may be wrong, that's the worst thesis I've heard in quite a while. You may want to work on that. Lucky for you, you have a few weeks to do just that."

"Noted."

I twisted around and gave Two-bit a serious look. His smile dropped in the slightest, although he still seemed fairly pleased with himself.

"Today you'll have the class to write. I want you to write about your happy place, literal or figurative, a state of mind, perhaps. Given the time, I expect no less than four paragraphs – five sentences per paragraph, as a reminder. It doesn't have to be descriptive, but well done, thoughts conveyed in an organized manner. Write as if somebody were to read it, and you really want them to know why this certain place, or thing, makes you happy. I'll give you all a few minutes to figure out what this is for you, but when the time is up I expect pencils to be to paper."

An uncomfortable object poked the area between my shoulder blades, making me jerk forward. I twisted my head around. Two-bit was holding the eraser side of his pencil with a half-smile. "Whatcha gonna write about, Holls?"

"I dunno, what are you gonna write about?"

"Don't know."

"He did say you could write about a state of mind. How about your drunkenness?"

He curled his lips in a scowl. "Oh, you're so funny, Randle. How bout you write about your soberness? Huh?"

I held my hands up in defense. Two-bit kicked the leg of Soda's desk. He looked up just as he was about to write his title.

"What're you writing about?" He whispered, although I was sure the whole class, including Mr Jones, could hear.

"My room," he mumbled. "It's a real happy place, alright."

"Boring," Two-bit remarked, moving back into a normal position. He twirled his pencil between his fingers.

I tilted my head and stared at the ceiling. I never thought about what my happy place was. I figured I'd never had one, and if I did it'd be Mr. Hanson's convenience shop, but that was merely fleeting visits on Wednesday evenings. If anything, it was the books he gave me, although I wouldn't exactly call those happy if it has you crying by the end. I racked my mind to come up with something Mr. Jones would like, because although he was theatrical and most often than not annoying, he did give me my English mark, and that was very important to me.

Two-bit tapped his pencil on my shoulder. "Hey, you got it yet?"

"No, man, I don't have it."

He sighed. "Well, hurry up."

"You're not taking my idea, anyway."

"I know," he said, "I need some inspiration. Come on, Holls, you're the smart one."

"Write about the drive in theatre. You have a lot of fun there. Just don't add the part where you get drunk and flip up girl's skirts. I don't think he'll like that."

He scrunched his face in concentration and waved his pencil. "Yeah, I'll do that."

I picked up my paper and squinted, as if staring at it long enough would give me an idea. If I were being honest, I would have rather spent that time reading a book. Hanson gave me one that I was waiting irritably to go home and dive into, with a pot of coffee brewing by my side. That was the best way to read, in my opinion.

I wrote sometimes, I liked to create characters and give them personalities and all that, but making something for somebody else was out of the question. Unless it was a letter, and I wrote those almost every day. Mostly to my grandmother. Truthfully, I didn't have many people to write to.

Then it came to me. A happy place was somewhere you've been, whether once or a hundred times, that made you feel complete serenity, like nothing could hurt you at that moment. I didn't feel all that peaceful walking down Barnes street to Hanson's store on my lonesome because I could get jumped or yelled at by some sleazy Socs. It had happened before, too, and it's not a great feeling.

Watching the sunset on the train tracks with Dallas gave me another sort of happiness. It was like a wave of elation washing over me, being able to stand on those tracks and not be in Soc or Greaser territory. I looked left, I saw ostentatious houses with pristine cut lawns and white picket fences. I looked right, I saw dilapidated homes and worn down parks. But where I stood, it was just me, Dallas, and some tracks.

I put my pencil to paper. At first, I wasn't all too sure how to start out. So I described the sunset. Then I described the tracks, and Dallas, and I used a lot of synonyms for happy to get my feeling across. Then I started on to the houses, the beautiful white ones with ornate doors and densely packed immaculate homes. I described the east side with great detail, too, but I made sure to include it as part of my happiness, even with the ugly words I used to describe it.

I was finished with ten minutes to spare. I looked over at Two-bit who had scant words scribbled on his sheet and a distraught look on his face. He was tapping his pencil against his temple with vigor, sparing glances at Soda who had somehow managed to write five full paragraphs on how much he loved his room.

"Need help?" I asked.

He looked up. "A ton."

"Make up a scenario. Let's say you met a girl at the theatre, she made you really happy, she was one of a kind. Just write about this girl. Describe her." I tapped my finger against his nearly blank sheet. "Don't forget to make her blonde."

"Holly, you're a genius."

"You have ten minutes, so make it quick."

I was pretty sure Two-bit had a girlfriend, although he went through them like smokers go through cigarettes. He was a good looking guy, so he could do that kind of stuff.

The front of the classroom had an empty seat. If I looked close enough, I could probably spot a thin layer of dust collecting on top. It was Dallas's, but he hadn't been to class in at least a week or two, and I doubted he'd pass if he kept it up. I wasn't expecting to see him in class, but I kind of hoped he'd be there, that he'd sit back and send a few glances in my direction. I hadn't been able to take my mind off the night before. I replayed the scene in my mind about a hundred times, and I couldn't believe I'd actually had the guts to lean in and kiss him.

My mind wandered off and was cut short by the shrill sound of the bell. I got up from my seat, collected my books and hurried out of class with Two and Soda on my tail. My second-period class was little ways down the hall, so I had a few minutes to spare.

"Holls, what'd you write about?" Two asked, leaning down to take a sip from the water fountain. I bit my lip and shuffled on my feet, hoping they wouldn't make fun of my choice.

'You know the tracks? Between east and west?"

"Yeah?" He knitted his brows and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tawny leather jacket.

"I went there with Dallas once. It was nice."

Two-bit and Soda shared a look, then both hunched over in laughter. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms.

"C'mon, what are you two laughing about?"

"You and Dallas are just an odd pair is all. It's nothing against you." Soda butted in. I frowned and lowered my head, a hint of blush spreading across my cheeks.

"Dallas and I ain't a pair."

"So why are y'all visiting the tracks together?"

"Can't I visit the tracks with him without us bein' a pair? Listen, he's a real good guy, not many people know that." I pursed my lips. "I'll tell you guys something, but you gotta promise not to tell Steve. Or anyone, for that matter."

"What is it?" Two asked, brows lowered in anticipation.

"Dallas came over last night and I kissed him. It's no big deal I guess, cause I don't know how he feels about it, but I really like him." I kicked my foot and stared at it, not wanting to see the reactions of the two boys.

"Oh, no way!" Soda's smile widened. I looked up and away in embarrassment.

"Man, Steve would go ape if he knew. He's been on about old Dal ever since he got you locked up." Two said, his feet shuffling around as if he were unable to keep still.

"He didn't get me locked up," I defended.

"Steve likes to believe you're innocent. But he's right. You were in a little shell until you and Dallas started talking."

"Well, I think that's a good thing," I said with finality.

"Hey, me too," Soda added, "I like this Holls a lot better. As long as you don't turn into some JD on me, alright? I gotta get to Science, I'll see y'all later."

Soda walked down the hall and turned a corner, disappearing.

"You wanna get outta here?" Two asked.

"Nah, the last time I skipped out on school Steve was on my ass all day. I think I'll bear through it."

"Your loss." He zipped his jacket and popped the collar, slicking his hair back and grooming his sideburns. "I look okay?"

"Tuff." I raised a corner of my lips. "You look great, Two. See you after school."

"See you later, kid."

He was down the hall and out the exit before I could get to my next class.