" IF THERE'S ANYBODY'S WORD
I TRUST ITS YOURS "

–

I got out of the hospital the next morning. Changed my clothes, hopped into the passenger's seat, and got cleaned up in my steaming shower at home. I had a relaxing evening the day I went home. I read a bit, ate some lunch, and then decided it was time to head back to the hospital. Dallas would be there for at least another four or five days. I wasn't going to wait that long to see him.

They didn't advise against me driving, so I took the car and was there in a matter of ten minutes. Dallas was glad to see me, and I was happy about that because I loved the way he smiled when he saw the door open. His grin was so charming, I wasn't sure how every other girl we went to high school with didn't fall in love with him. Maybe because he never went, but Dallas was notorious around town for his criminal record. You knew who he was, whether you saw him in the hallways of your school or not.

I went to the end of his bedside, and he shuffled around the mattress. He wasn't wearing pants or a hospital gown anytime I visited. All that covered him were the sheets. I cleared my throat and straightened my posture, making sure I got his utmost attention. His deep gaze into my eyes told me I had it.

"Dallas," I started, fiddling with the sheets of the bed, "I know you well. I know you're going to try and fight in the rumble on Friday. Please, you're going to get hurt if you do. You're in bad shape right now."

He clicked his tongue and looked to the ceiling. "I'm fine. Seriously, I could run a damn marathon right now. Keepin' me in here against my will is what they're doing."

"Dallas, I'm going to be completely honest with you." I locked my hands together and licked my lips until I found the right words. "I love the fuck out of you, so if you go to the rumble, I will personally invite myself to fight and kick your ass myself. Then, not only will you be more crippled than you are right now, but you would have gotten your ass kicked by a girl, and that's embarrassing. All I'm saying is I would advise against it."

Dallas stood from the bed, holding the sheets loosely around his waist as he came closer to me. "You love the fuck outta me, huh?"

I swallowed a gulp of air. "Yes." I looked down at him. I wanted every bit of him to be mine. "It scares me."

"I love the mother-fucking shit out of you."

My mouth shaped into a circle before I fell into a fit of laughter. I threw my arms around the back of his neck and rested my head on his shoulder. It was crazy how subtly you could change a person just by getting them to open up a little bit with love. I saw that with Johnny and Dallas in a platonic way, and I admired it. I longed for it even. Affection from somebody who was extremely conservative with how much they handed out.

When I finally received it from Dallas, I felt like I had the world. It was those people that loved the strongest. People like him had the most to give but in the least obvious way. I knew I would have Dallas behind me whenever I would need him. He would have my back, I would have his. That's really how love worked, and with the two of us, a deep understanding and interest in each other, we were inevitably going to have a vehement connection. And we did.

"I'm gonna be completely honest with you," Dallas repeated me, "you're really hot."

I took his chin in my hand and began to kiss him, my lips slightly open and my arms already wrapped around him. He was always emanating warmth, and I always felt comfortable in his arms. Each time I pressed his lips to mine it was as smooth as kissing silk. I ran my hands through his soft hair then let them fall down his shoulders to his chest.

"You know how to distract me," I mumbled through the kiss. He bit my lip and then pulled back, a corner of his lip tugged up into a half-smile.

"Not my intention..." He tugged a strand of hair behind my hair. "At all."

"And the rumble?" I asked, shying away in the slightest. He noticed and tugged me closer to him, then kissed my neck. He muttered a few things I didn't quite make out, then pulled back and spoke clearer.

"Can we talk about it later?"

"I guess," I said, a bit confused, "why?"

He looked down, at the floor first, then my feet, and made his way up my body. I'd never seen his eyes like that before. Almost puppy-doggish. Round and a deep brown color, his bottom lip jutted out. He stared at mine as he spoke. "I don't want to talk right now."

"What, you want to make out?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

I thought about it for a moment.

Then we were on the bed. I was half on top of Dallas, my leg sprawled over him and my hand cupping his jaw. His kiss was so deep, passionate, and loving. It had always been that way. I kissed down his neck and rubbed along the inside of his thigh, making him smile while pressed against my lips. I pulled back for a few moments.

"My dad and I want you to come for dinner soon," I said, rubbing circles on his chest. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue and squinted, his thumb dancing along my lower back.

"Yeah, cool." He kissed me, pulled back, and bit his lip. "You me, Steve, and your old man. What a shit show. He bringing the heater to the table?"

I rolled my eyes and slapped him as light as a feather. He grabbed his face as if he was hurt and then flipped me onto my back, pinning me down by my chest. He placed all of his weight on me.

I heaved and grunted. "You're gonna flatten me Dallas."

"Mmm, I'm your boyfriend," he said, taking the slightest bit of weight off of me, and leaning down to whisper jokingly in my ear, "you should like this." I laughed and pushed him away, but he still hovered above me. He narrowed his brows and looked down at the two of us, then back to my eyes. He chewed on his lip. "Why do you have clothes on?"

"Dallas!" I choked out with a snicker, hitting his chest. He shrugged, tugging at the ends of my shirt, twisting it between his fingers, and then running his hands up my back. I didn't stop him when he pulled it farther and farther up until it was off my body. We never stopped kissing. Our lips moved in sync for what seemed like forever, our hands roaming each other's bodies as if we had never touched each other before.

I didn't leave Dallas that night. I stayed with him, as I did most nights. It was almost as if I was never sent home from the hospital, I ended up spending more time there in the long run.

I did leave him for an hour later the next day, to see Johnny. I hadn't gone to visit, and I felt terrible because Johnny was in my arms when the building tumbled down but he was tremendously more hurt than I was. He inhaled a lot of smoke and his burns were pretty bad, but the wood crashing down on his body on top of all that must had done serious damage.

I was putting off seeing him. They were saying he was bad, so bad his conditions were quite unstable and unpredictable. Johnny seriously risked his life for those kids, and he was paying for that risk. I wished over and over that I could've gotten him out of there. If I tried harder, would he be okay? Could I have helped him? Regardless of whether Johnny was okay or not, the recovery process would kick him in the ass.

He was in room 317. I knocked before entering, waiting until I heard his hoarse voice call out through the cracks of the door. I opened it slowly, peeking my head through to see Johnny laying on his stomach on the hospital bed, unable to see me as he couldn't move from his position. I walked in and closed the door behind me. Twiddling my thumbs, I ambled over to the couch near his bed and sat down, where I was slightly more eye-level with him.

"Hey, Johnny," I said, inhaling deeply, "how's it going, buddy?"

He scrunched his nose and blinked, his deep breath sounding more like a wheeze after he smoked a couple of packs. "Lousy. My body hurts... and it ain't so fun in here, either."

"I know. I don't like it so much in here either. The foods crappy and there's nothing to do. You want me to get you something to pass the time?"

"I'm okay," he said, more so whispered.

My feet tapped arrhythmically against the marble floor. "What've you been doing to fill your time?"

His eyes darted to a book that sat to the right of him, just in arm's reach. It was Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. "Just finished readin' this one again. Pony and I read it in the church. It's a long one, it's sure good though." He coughed, worsening until it was more of a hack. "You ever read it?"

"No. I've always been scared of its length, believe it or not."

He tried to shake his head, but winced and fell back into place. He grunted. "Don't be. Go ahead and read it if you want."

Thinking about it, I hadn't read a book in quite a while with all that was going on in my life. I didn't have the time. Now that Dallas was in the hospital, and the weekend was coming up, I would have more than enough time. I grabbed the paperback copy from him, the corners turning and the pages so thin I felt if I didn't turn them with a gentle finger they would likely tear. The thickness of it made me gulp. I flipped through to the last page, 1037 pages of fine print writing.

"If there's anybody's word I trust it's yours."

He told me more about the book, what it was all about and why he thought I would like it. He let me in on more of what he and Pony did over at the church while they were hiding, since we didn't get much time to talk when Dallas and I visited before we were met with the fire. I spent another twenty minutes there until I felt like if I stayed any longer I would begin to annoy him.

He called my name before I could step out the door, "Holly, wait. Can you do something for me?" I walked closer so I wasn't talking to his back. "Make sure you give that book to Pony when you're done, he's gonna want to read it. It would mean a lot."

I narrowed my brows, a bit confused as to why he wouldn't just want to give it to Pony himself, but I nodded. "Of course, Johnny."

So I took the book and left with my stomach curling up into a knotted ball. I could have thrown up thinking about Johnny's fate. He was too good for the world, and there he was in a hospital bed fighting for his life only to get thrown into prison if he did happen to find enough strength and pull through his injuries. He deserved a life so much fuller than what he had.

—

I finished Gone with the Wind in two days. I stayed home most of the time, pulled an all-nighter the first night, read it while Dallas was sleeping in his room, at the Curtis house, and everywhere I went. When my eyes fell over the last words, and I realized I'd accomplished reading the longest book I ever had, and it was one of the best as well, I felt warm. I needed to thank Johnny, I really did.

I shoved the book in my corduroy bag and slung it over my shoulder. The boys were all at the Curtis house and I was extremely eager to see them. Minutes earlier I stopped at a corner store and picked up a light brownish hair dye, a sort of color I figured Pony might like. I knew he thought his blonde, yellowish hair was lousy. I didn't think it looked too bad, but Pony and Johnny had no idea what they were doing with hair.

I threw those supplies in with the book. Before I knew it I was at the Curtis house, making my way through those rusted gates for the millionth time. The door wasn't fully shut, so I didn't bother knocking, and probably wouldn't have either way. There was Two-bit, Pony, Darry, Soda, and my brother. The whole gang except for the ones that were in the hospital. Looking down, I stepped in the room and dropped my bag on the floor. I was greeted by multiple different murmuring voices, no one seeming to be in as lively of a mood as usual.

However the rumble was that night, and that seemed to get their spirits up a little bit. Any positive comment I heard as I made my way to the kitchen and back was about how we were gonna kick the Soc's asses tonight. I decided even though I told Dallas I didn't want him going, I would still wait off to the side.

Since I was a kid I'd been scared of rumbles, Steve always coming back beaten and bruised. When I hit my teen years sometimes I would start sneaking off when I knew he was going out to fight and staying on the sidelines where he couldn't see me, just in case he got hurt too badly. You never knew with rumbles. Get hit upside the hide, go unconscious, and somebody calls out fuzz, there's nobody around to help you. They were dangerous.

So I always stayed to the side. I never had a problem, until one day Steve caught me and I thought I was about to have to fight him myself. There was something about Soc men, no matter whether you were a greaser or not, if you were a girl they would treat you vile, especially if you were a pretty one. That's why Steve didn't want to see me anywhere near there, and why Dallas wasn't feeling too hot about it either.

"So," I said, walking into the living room with a beer in hand, "Pony, you want me to fix up that hair of yours? Not that it doesn't look... tuff."

The kid rolled his eyes to the ceiling and huffed. "Yeah, alright. What are you gonna do, make it red?"

"Pink, is that okay?"

I picked up my bag and took the dye out, tossing it over to him. He looked over the packaging and seemed to be alright with it when he saw the light brown shade, just a few tones lighter than his natural hair color. I didn't want to give up the opportunity to call him blondie for good — I had to keep it light enough.

"This is alright."

"That's like it, a good ol' spa session before the rumble, huh Ponyboy?" Two chimed in. He howled like a hyena with laughter, sitting by the table in the dining room while Steve and Soda played cards.

"Shut your trap."

I ushered Pony over to the bathroom where I took out my supplies and began mixing the substances together. I kept the bathroom door to keep the fumes from making us sick and brushed his hair from the front to back. Once I started sectioning, it took me about fifteen minutes to fully cover his head. I patted his shoulder and removed the towel from it, allowing him to get up and check himself out in the mirror. One corner of his lip curled up.

"Thanks, Holly. I think I'll look real tuff."

I agreed. It was hard to tell before he washed it out, but it looked like it would be a nice light, soft color. I instructed him to sit for twenty more minutes before jumping into the shower.

I joined the boys at the table while I waited for him to be done. Steve was curled up, his bicep flexed as much as it could've been as he leaned over the table, trying to force Soda's forearm down. He ended up being successful and Soda huffed, hitting his palm on the surface.

"Randle family genes, Soda. Sorry dude," I said.

I sat down. I felt happy, against all odds. My boyfriend was in the hospital, along with one of my best friends, and it wasn't looking good. Things weren't looking up for the gang, in general. But whenever we were together, we sure did have good energy around us. A comforting sense of feeling like you're home.

They started with another card game but I didn't bother joining in because I didn't want to learn the rules. I simply watched them as they went along, focused for the most part except for a few moments where they goofed off. Two-bit was the one sitting there egging them both on, making comments that would get them both irritated. It continued until Steve told him to hack off and he went and sat cross-legged by the TV drinking his beer.

Pony's shower was quick. He was out of there with a towel wrapped around his waist in ten minutes, then back out with pants on in another five. He joined us at the table and began to comb out his newly colored hair. It was already beginning to dry out a little bit and the color was peeking through. It looked real cool on him.

Soda lost once against and slammed his cards down on the table. "You're friggin' kidding me! This never happens."

"Sounds like a sore loser to me," I piped in.

Steve shrugged and bent his arm, offering his hand to Soda. "Round two?"

Soda grunted and reluctantly took his hand. I counted down from three and in half a second, the boys were huffing and puffing pushing their force against each other. It stayed solid for about forty seconds, until Steve was triumphant again and managed the shove his arm into the wood.

Soda muttered an obscenity and shook his head back and forth. He was a competitive guy so losing wasn't the easiest for him. I pushed over and held my hand out, grinning at Soda. He lowered his brows and started to laugh, but stopped himself.

"What? Don't think you could beat me?" I challenged.

Ponyboy lit up beside me and grinned ear to ear, a snicker falling from his lips. "You're Dally's girl now and you think you're all tough?"

"Oh I'm tough for sure."

Steve cleared his throat. We stopped laughing and looked over to him, his lips drawn into a thin line and a disagreeable look in his eyes. "Dally's girl? Like, actually his girl? Since when?"

I tapped my fingers along the table. "Um... about a week ago, actually."

His expression didn't change much, but I could see the uncomfortable energy that was burning inside of him. His face turned a lighter shade of pink, something so subtle that it was likely only I noticed. He flicked a couple of the cards he was holding onto the table and coughed, clearing his chest.

"Good for you guys."

With that, he got up and went to the kitchen. The three of us gave each other a look and giggled. Steve always had something up his ass. We couldn't be upset with him for it.

"Ponyboy, your hair's lookin' tuff," Darry said, walking into the room as he tucked his shirt into his pants. He ran his hand through his nicely gelled hair and showed off his white teeth. Pony thanked him with a sheepish smile and crossed his arms. All of us relocated to the living room where Darry buckled his belt and turned to Pony.

"Listen, Pony, I don't know if it's wise for you to be fighting in this rumble."

"How come? I always came before ain't I?"

"Yeah, but you were in shape before, now you're all bruised up. I don't know..."

The two of them started to bicker back and forth whether it was a good idea for Pony to be fighting. Once Pony assured him he'd take on one of the small guys, and it was all skin no blades or chains, Darry eased up and agreed that it was alright. As much as I agreed with Darry, I knew how much it meant to the guys to be able to fight for their gang in the rumble. It sucked to have to miss out on it.

"Hey, how come you never worry so much about Soda?"

"Now that's one kid brother I don't need to worry about," he said, locking Soda's neck in his large arm, "this kid can use his head. At least for one thing to grow hair on!"

Just like that, he was out the screen door with a