37; rumble

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" DON'T GIVE UP ON ME "

Dallas Winston was one to do what he wanted.

I was naive enough to think that he would heed my advice because he loved me. I conveniently forgot about the fact that he also loves to beat the shit out of Socs. I let the red, blood color rush to my face and the heat burn in my chest as I heaved in anger only for me to calm down a few moments later. I couldn't be mad at Dallas Winston for going to a rumble.

He said it himself — "A rumble ain't a rumble without me!"

And hell broke loose. Pony was the first down with a punch to the nose, and I couldn't catch the second because it all happened so quickly. I watched as Steve threw a guy to the ground and spat on him, with Dallas a few feet way throwing a guy over his shoulder. Darry wasn't taking any hits. He plowed anybody who got in his way and kept by Pony's side so he didn't get too badly hurt.

I was off near one of the cars, behind it staring from afar as I shivered from the rain. I wrapped my jacket tight around me and placed my bag under it so Johnny's book wouldn't get wet. It was down-pouring and most of the boys didn't prepare for the weather. They were covered from their shoes to their hair in dirt and grime. My eyes were fixated on Dallas, who tossed a Soc to the ground, then threw a swing at another. I looked to Pony, Steve, and the rest of them to make sure nobody had been seriously hurt. Seemed to be winning, but the boys were getting beat pretty bad. I could already pick put some busted brows and lips.

The fight didn't last as long as I expected it to. Usually, the sides could tough it out longer, but the Socs didn't seem courageous enough to put up much of a fight. They must've recognized there was no winning when they were fighting against guys like Darrel Curtis and Dallas Winston. The sweater-vest clad boys scrambled off into the night, back to their white picket fence homes. The greaser side burst out cheers and hollered at the Socs as they ran, taunting them for their cowardliness.

I was able to come from behind the car and make myself visible once they'd gone off. The boys were in a circle giving each other chest bumps and hugging tightly under the heavy rain. I ran through the mud, my feet sinking into the ground and flinging it back onto my legs. I went straight to Dallas and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around so that we came face to face.

"You came," I said, sounding almost like a whisper under the pouring water.

"I had to." He swallowed. He had a few scratches and a busted lip, but other than that, he seemed okay. "We need to go. Where's Pony?"

I furrowed my brow, then glanced around, spotting Pony in an embrace with Soda. "What's the rush? Where are we going?"

His eyes shut, the rivulets of rainwater dripping from his long dark lashes. Running a hand down his face to dry it, he threw his head back and stared at the sky for a few moments before looking back at me. He was unwell. I knew when Dallas wasn't himself.

"Johnny's dying, I think. I dunno man, he was getting really bad when I left." His eyes squeezed shut again as if he was avoiding the thought himself. I couldn't comprehend it. I saw Johnny, and he seemed to be doing pretty bad, but nothing that he wouldn't be able to recover from. Johnny was a quiet boy. He hid his pain well, and did it strategically, all his life. You had to when you grow up in a house like his.

"Get in the car. I'll get Pony." I said it so quick I was unsure he heard me, my breaths short and rapid. My vision was blurring. I couldn't tell if it was lightheadedness or tears. Maybe rain that had fallen from the sky. I was numb and truly didn't know. Johnny was in my hands when he fell. It felt like my fault. Was it? I'm not sure, but when someone you love is dying under your watch, it sure feels like it.

Once Dallas was headed straight to Buck's T-Bird, I ran through the thick mud to Pony and grabbed his arm. "Come on, we have to go see Johnny. He's not doing so good." Pony didn't need to hear much more than that, before darting in the direction I led him. He got in the passenger seat and I threw myself in the back.

Once we sped off to the road, I wasn't worried about anything I had been stressing over five minutes prior. It all seemed so minuscule now knowing that it could be my last night or few days with Johnny. I couldn't let the thought go that Johnny was the one person that deserved to live his life the most. He had barely even broken out of the shell of what he could become yet. He was still a naive, young, innocent kid, who knew nothing but hate from the family around him. The only ones that showed him true love were the Curtis gang.

I turned around, startled by the wailing siren that turned on behind us, lights flashing blue and red. I looked to Dallas who remained stoic and turned to Pony, telling him to act sick. Pony didn't really need to act to do that, he was already green with nausea. The police officer approached the ride of the car and flashed his light inside, taking glances between the three of us.

Dallas was able to convince him that we were taking Ponyboy to the hospital and that he had fallen off his motorcycle in a bad accident. How he did that, I was unsure, because Dallas was all bruised and busted up too, the both of them covered head to toe in mud. The officer didn't seem to care much and even offered an escorted ride, which Dallas took, letting a grin creep up to his lips once the man was out of sight. "Sucker!"

The police motorcyclist swerved around the car and turned on its lights and sirens, keeping a safe distance as Dallas turned on the car and followed behind. We drove for a couple more minutes in tense silence, Dallas's finger's tapping anxiously against the steering wheel.

Dallas started to go on a rant about how Johnny and Pony were too soft, and they needed to toughen up and be more like Dallas to survive the world they were living in. I wanted to interrupt and say that it wasn't true, and Pony didn't need to succumb to the bad sides of living in a gang and being a greaser. But Dallas was right, in a sense. The only issue was, while Dallas seemed as if he were a good balance of tough and soft, to me at least, he was a very cold and uncaring person in the end. Not many saw the side of him that I did.

Pony was in a daze. All that Dallas said looked like it was going through one ear and out the other. I could only imagine how he was feeling, knowing his best friend was going to die. Pony didn't deserve that. He really didn't.

"Pony," I muttered out, my voice hoarse and croaking. I needed water.

He turned to me.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the book that had gotten damp from the rain. There wasn't much I could do to stop that — but the pages weren't soaked, and it was still readable. I handed it to Pony and the muscles in his face tensed. He winced.

"Did Johnny give ya that?"

"Yea, he said I should give it to you when I'm done."

Pony nodded wearily and took it from my hands, letting it fall to his lap. His arms went limp again. You could tell something was wrong with Pony if he wasn't interested in hearing about the book you read. Normally he'd be asking a million questions about what I thought. Now, he was a million thoughts deep in his mind.

I looked out the windows and let the world blur by until we got to the hospital. Dallas nearly drifted into the front parking lot and got out with me to help Pony get out of the car until the officer was gone and we could let go of the act. The man in blue waved goodbye and then drove off. Once he was out of sight, we all hurried through the hospital doors and toward the elevator.

Once we got the floor Johnny was on, Pony darted down the hall towards his room. Dallas was about to go with him until I wrapped my hand around his wrist, stopping him momentarily. I made sure he was making eye contact before I continued, needing to know he was hearing me out.

"Thing are about to get hard, Dallas." I tightened my grip and gave him a look that could only be described as pleading. "Don't give up on me."

I let go. We didn't have all the time in the world to sit back and talk about how things were going to go now. Nothing would ever be the same. It was the elephant that lingered in every single room I had been in since the fire.

He rubbed his eyes, the dirt and mud making them red and irritated. Or he was crying. It wasn't easily distinguishable. With one last deep sigh, he murmured, "I love you."

With that, all that I had was the promise of his love and the sight of his back as he made his way toward Johnny's door. I regained myself before following, walking down the hall and into the room just as Dallas was telling Johnny all about how we beat the Socs. He didn't care much about that — how could you, when you had much bigger things to worry about?

He confirmed what I was thinking. He was lifeless - pale and gaunt, the skin that wasn't turning grey flaking and peeling black and red. "Useless... fighting's no good..."

Dallas swallowed. He approached his bedside and let a hand rest on the side table. "You know, they're still writing editorials about you and makin' the greasers all look like heroes, man. I gotta say I'm proud of ya, buddy."

Johnny had the most peace in his eyes than I had seen in weeks. His eyes lit up when Dallas said he was proud — he lived for his approval. I knew deep down Johnny looked to Dallas as a role model, but never had it in him to become what Dallas was. Cold and mean. Johnny wasn't like that. He was a warm, caring kid ever since I'd known him. If anything, Dallas should've been viewing Johnny that way, instead of assuming he was teaching the kid about life and keeping him safe by making him tough.

"Ponyboy," Johnny grunted, barely croaking out the name. Pony leaned closer and whispered into his ear, still loud enough for us to hear.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold."

The life drained from his eyes in seconds, his head tilting to the side and skin becoming paler by the second. I threw my hands over my face knowing if I spent another moment looking at him like that I would vomit. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it. I kept repeating that in my head.

Dallas's face screwed up into a type of pain I'd never quite seen him in before. It was different. He leaned forward, pushed back Johnny's hair, and made a comment about how he could never keep it back and rambled and muttered about how that's what he got for helping those kids. That's what he got for running into that burning church and being a good person. That's what being a good person gets you in this sick, twisted, sadistic world.

"No, no, no... don't die, Johnny, don't die. Come on." He swung around and punched the wall behind him, hanging his head and heaving with emotion.

"Dallas-"

"Please, Johnny."

He bit his lip, his cheeks quaking as he held back tears. They started to spill from his eyes. Before I could react, he bolted out the door and down the hall, giving me or Pony no chance to catch up to him. He was gone. He was angry at the world.

He was going to blow.

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