Goldie's POV

I came up with some excuse that I needed to get my siblings, which I guess was not made up. I could have stayed longer, but I needed to tell them what just happened. I offered to come again the next day at the same time to finish the assignment. Mom walked me out and said that she will keep trying to come up with ideas for the rest of our paper.

I drove as fast as I could to the park, where I saw Candy and Red playing on a jungle gym.

I leaned out the window and shouted their names and waved them over. They climbed down swiftly and raced each other to my car. By the time they hopped inside, their breathing was hard and beads of sweat was forming around their hairlines. I kept the car on and unrolled the window for air but stayed parked. I told them about everything from the visit, including the introduction of Sandy.

"Who's Sandy?" Candy asked with a curious tilt of her head. She looks more and more like Mom every day.

"Dad's girlfriend," I revealed.

"Mom?" She questioned.

"No."

Her eyes went wide. "That doesn't make any sense. Mom and Dad already went on their first date."

"Did we do something to break them up?" Red asked while his voice quivered. At least I wasn't the only one who thought that.

"No, no, no," Candy tried to reassure. Then she thought about it for a second. "I hope not."

"We should have paid more attention to Mom's stories," I mumbled and put my head back against the headrest to close my eyes. So much was happening all at once. I just want to go home. Why is this so difficult?

"What should we do?" Candy asked.

"I don't think we should do anything," I said before Candy could get any ideas. I looked at her and said, "we have probably caused enough trouble as it is."

"If we caused this, we have to fix it."

"I am not sure if we even did anything," I said. "We should just stay put and go about our business. Pay very close attention to everything and make sure we don't do anything else because literally any little thing we do could change the entire future. Our future."

"We also should have paid attention to Mom when she played us that old movie of hers that she likes... Blast to the Past or something," Candy mentioned.

"Oh, Back to the Future," I said, vaguely remembering the plot. "That might have been a little bit helpful."

I got the chance to head over to Curtis house a lot while we were trying to write that paper. These visits would be hours long, usually letting me grab a plate at dinner. Even when the assignment was finished and turned in, I was still getting invited to eat dinner with Mom and her friends. It got to be so frequent, I asked if I could bring my siblings along. I even offered to help pay our share for the dinner, but Darry always refused. He said we were welcome every night.

One day when everyone was sitting at the table, which included all my uncles, parents, siblings, family friends, and great-grandfather, Darry made everyone a hearty dinner of fried potatoes, cooked vegetables and grilled chicken. Darry rotates between the same few meals to make for dinner, but I don't think anyone minds. I actually recognized a lot of the meals we ate, this is what dad would make us growing up. Chipped beef on toast, ketchup soup, chili and cornbread, slumgullion, meatloaf, and fried spam sandwiches were common meals we had growing up. Mom was pretty vocal about not liking some of these things, but now I know why. This was what dad grew up on.

Steve went around passing out drinks, everyone got bottles of beer except he grabbed a bottle of Coke for Mom and he gave Ponyboy and Dad bottles of Pepsi.

"What do y'all want?" Steve asked us from the kitchen.

"I'll just take a Coke," I said.

"Can I have a Pepsi, please?" Candy asked.

"Me too," Red added.

Steve came around with our soda's and handed us the bottles. I side-eyed Dad and saw him pop the cap off and he held his hand out for Mom to give him her bottle cap, then he handed them to Two-Bit.

Everyone gave the caps of their bottled drinks to Two-Bit, and he just shoved them in the deep pocket of his dark jeans. He also wore a thin red and white plaid flannel with the sleeves rolled up. It was only buttoned at the bottom which showed off his bare chest, and he didn't have the fabric tucked into his jeans. It was a hot day today, so everyone was in lighter and looser clothes.

I gripped the cap and twisted it off easily. I helped Red get his off and Candy managed to twist off hers. I collected their bottle caps and looked over at Two.

"Are you taking all the bottle caps?" I asked.

"Yeah." He held his hand out so I stood up and handed them to him. "I collect them."

"How many do you have?" I asked curiously. I didn't know he collected things, that's pretty cool. I wonder what happened to his collection. Does he still have it?

"A lot," he chuckled with big eyes. "I've collected them for years. Mostly beer caps, but I've been takin' Pony and Soda's soda bottle caps too. And now Bri's."

"So, Goldie, where do you guys live? Around here?" Darry asked before eating a bite of his chicken.

I was prepared to say, the other side of town, but Red opened his yap and said, "depends on where we are parked."

This caused everyone who was chewing to freeze their jaws as they stared at us like we just admitted to committing felonies. Their expressions of shock faded into sympathy. Candy glanced up and over at me, trying to search my expression on how I felt about Red admitting to everyone that we were basically homeless.

"We are fine," I said and gave him a death stare as I chewed on my chicken.

"Do you kids need a place to crash?" Darry asked. "I got some extra pillows and blankets and y'all can crash on the couch and chairs.

If it was just me, I would have said no. But I looked at my siblings and knew I had to take him up on his generous offer. The bags under their eyes were so dark, they were physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. We all needed a fresh shower, and a warm place to sleep that was not a car.

"That would be great. Thank you," I said softly.

"Goldie, why didn't you tell me?" Mom asked in a low voice. Her expression was soft and concerned.

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," I said with a shrug.

Plus, I never imagined that we would be staying for this long. It was a lot harder to get back home that I had initially anticipated.

"Hey, Goldie," Steve said in mid-swallow. "There's a rumble tonight. Wanna join?"

"Steve," Darry hissed.

"Come on, let him fuckin' come," Dally said through his chewing. "I wanna see the punch on this kid."

"Language," Darry snapped then gestured toward Red. "There's an actual kid here."

"Whatever." Dally rolled his eyes. "We will make sure he ain't gonna get too roughed up. But you're like... what, eighteen? He's old enough to make his own decisions."

"He can do whatever he wants," Darry said.

"Yeah, I'll do it," I said. Maybe being a part of their rumbles will help me be a part of their gang. What is a rumble? "Why not."

Steve nodded and pointed his fork at my chicken. "Bulk up, man. You're gonna need as much energy as you can get."

Great.

I asked what rumbles are usually like around here, and they told me it's like any other rumble. I still didn't know what a rumble even was. Pony tried to paint me a picture. Fighting sides, battling it out with just their fists. Some rumbles allow switchblades or chains to be used, but the rumble tonight is just skin. They said that girls rarely fight in them, so the girlfriends are usually on the sidelines cheering their boys on.

Red voiced that he wanted to come, but everyone at the same time yelled, "no!"

"Hey, Goldie, got any grease?" Steve asked.

I glanced around and noticed that everyone around the dinner table was looking at me. I cleared my throat and asked, "huh?"

"You know, for your hair?" He gestured to his own greased up head. "You'll look like one of them damn Socs with your hair like that if you don't got some grease into it."

"That Sheppard gang will knock your lights out if they don't recognize you as one of us," Two-Bit added.

"Oh, should I put some in?" I asked hesitantly.

Dad said, "I got a container on the bathroom counter. Help yourself."

I went into the dark bathroom and looked at the tin container. The inside looked like a combination of petroleum jelly and mineral oil. I dunked my hand in the cool slimy consistency and brought it up to my hair.

I hesitated but ran my fingers through my hair, and I felt myself getting frustrated because it was weighing my hair down and practically dripping off the ends. It looked like I had just dunked my hair in water, it looked so dirty and greasy. It was as if I had washed my hair in oil. There was no hope fixing it, I guess I put in too much. I finally washed my hands and gave up.

I walked back out to the kitchen and Two was the first to see me. He started giggling endlessly, and soon everyone saw me and my bad attempt of greaser hair.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, laugh it up," I said sarcastically.

"Repeat after me, buddy. McDonald's fryer oil is not shampoo," Two-Bit giggled.

"I don't think the environment could withstand a fire from that much grease," Steve stated.

"Can you butter my chicken with your hair?" Two giggled and I rolled my eyes over at him with annoyance.

"Listen, I'm not judging you but I am telling you that everyone else will," Mom said as she walked up to me to inspect my hair. She touched one of the strands and she flexed her face into a grimace.

"Just a dab'll do ya," Dad said with a little sing-song voice.

"Brylcreem— just a little dab'll do ya! Brylcreem— you'll look so debonair. Brylcreem— the gals'll all pursue ya. They'll love to run their fingers through your hair!," all of the guys sang in unison, it sounded like a catchy jingle. It's probably from some sort of commercial that plays once and gets stuck in your head for years. They sang it like it was an impulse.

I looked to Mom and I pleaded, "will you help me? Please?" 

"Yeah, could you grab a chair and meet me in the bathroom?" She asked with a giggle.

"Yeah," I said.

I picked the chair I was sitting on and walked with it into the bathroom. She followed me in and had me lay down on the chair and put my head over the tub. She turned on the water and tested it on her hand until it was warm. Then she ran her fingers through my hair, rinsing all of the grease out.

"Have you ever put grease in your hair before?" She asked with her soft voice.

"No, that was my first time," I said, looking up at her.

She chuckled. "Yeah, I can tell."

"You'd know how to put it in better?" I asked with a little scoff.

"I mean, I've seen the guys do their hair a few times," she said with a shrug. "How hard can it be?"

I clicked my tongue in thought. Obviously it's a little harder than it looks since I messed it up so bad. But my mother has always been perfect. If I can't find something, she will find it in two seconds. If I can't figure out how to do something, she can do it without a second thought. She will probably be perfect at this too.

Mom continued to run her fingers through my hair which gave me a sense of comfort. She used to wash my hair like this all the time when I was a kid, but she hasn't done it for a while. I didn't realize how much I missed this. She even started to massage my head to really get the grease out that I lathered at the roots of my hair. If I wasn't so nervous about the rumble, I would probably have fallen asleep.

"Have you ever been to one of these rumble things before?" I ask her.

She shrugged. "No, I came to town just a few days ago."

"I had never heard of a rumble before coming here," I admitted.

"It just sounds like a gang fight." She squeezed some shampoo in her hands and lathered it throughout my hair, massaging it into my scalp.

"And that doesn't sound scary to them?"

Mom chuckled. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah, a little," I admitted.

She started to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. "Don't be. If you want, I can ask Soda if he can keep an eye on you."

"I just don't understand the appeal of getting beat up for fun," I stated as she turned the water off.

Before I knew it, she tossed a towel on my face and said, "here. Dry your hair."

I grabbed the towel and shook my hair through it to try to get as much of the water out of my hair as I could. Then, she had me sit on the chair and she started running her comb through it.

"I don't think the purpose is to get beat up, but to blow off steam by beating up others," she stated. Her voice was soft as she concentrated on my hair.

I was watching her through the mirror. She looked focused as she brushed my hair back. When my bangs were wet, they were practically touching my eyebrows. I really need a haircut.

"I still don't get it," I mumbled.

Mom grabbed some of the grease and put the tiniest bit in her hands and she rubbed her palms together. She slicked it straight back through my hair until the strands were evenly coated. Then, she used a brush to help spread the product around.

"You know..." her voice trailed off. "I don't really get it either. They like it and they aren't harming anything."

"Are you going to the one tonight?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't really feel like it."

"Come on, they said all the girlfriends go."

She chuckled. "Good thing I'm not one of the girlfriends. I'm gonna stay home, and it'll be nice to have the house to myself. With Candy and Red, of course."

She switched out the brush for a wide-toothed comb. She pushed the middle of my hair forward and then made a half circle motion with the comb starting from the left side of my hair. She stood in front of me and touched it up with her fingers. She pushed some of the hair back to make sure it had some product in it.

"It smells weird," I stated with a scrunch of my nose.

Mom leaned down slightly and inhaled gently. She said, "it smells like witch hazel."

Now with witch hazel on my mind, she was totally right. "Oh, yeah. It does."

"There, I think that looks pretty good. What do you think?" She asked as she stepped aside so I could look at myself in the mirror.

When I saw myself, I saw that I really do look like my dad. Those Curtis genes are really strong. My hair was a little shiny, but not drippy. The grease was making it hold in its place, so hopefully it'll last throughout the rumble and I'll be able to learn how to do this on my own.

"I can't believe they actually put this crap in their hair," I stated. But I looked up at her and smiled modestly as I said, "but it's perfect. Thank you."

She smiled back. "Yeah, of course."

I walked back out to the living room with Mom behind me. Dinner had wrapped up so now everyone was moving in fast motion. They were putting their dishes in the sink, slipping their shoes on, and running out to the front yard while yelling and jumping in the air to pump themselves up for the rumble. How often do they have these things?

I followed behind them through the dark, glancing back at the house before it was out of view. I was a little nervous, because I have never been in a fight before.

Candy's POV

Mom, me, and Red stayed at the house while the boys ran off to get voluntarily beaten up.

We all sat on the couch, just like in 2038, and watched the television with Mom. We tried flipping the channels, but the only thing Red wanted to watch most was Mickey Mouse. Just like his great-grandfather.

Mom even made us popcorn on the stove. She kept asking us how school was going, and what kind of sports we liked to play. I kept trying to get Red to stay quiet just in case he blew our cover, but Mom kept pressuring him with more questions.

Finally, she backed off and let us all watch the show, but I appreciated how she did try to make an effort. I was beginning to miss the real her, and I could tell my brothers did too. In situations like this, all I wanted was my mom. We were so close to her, yet so far.

The boys came home quietly, and they were wincing at the wind. Mom already had some ice packs ready and she got me to do the not-so-serious wounds. The guys tried to bat my hand away from their cuts, but as Mom requested, I forced them into the bandaids. They hated it, but they needed it.

"Tomorrow is gonna be brutal." Steve winced as he tried to lean back into the couch.

"Was Sandy there?" I asked.

"No," Dad stated at he slowly sat down on the couch. "Why?"

"Just curious. You guys said that your girlfriends are always cheering you on so I figured."

"She don't always come," Dad said. His dark eyebrows scrunched together and he said defensively, "I don't need her to."

I sighed and dropped the subject. I grabbed a bag full of a random assortment of bandaids that Mom told me they had stashed by the washing machine.

"I'm planning on saving enough dough to get my own car," Dad stated. "So Darry don't have to keep driving me around no more."

"That reminds me, I can't drop you off tomorrow. I got an early job in the morning," Darry said.

"Well, shit," Dad said with a struggling exhale. "Walking that far is going to be a bitch."

"Quit your bitching," Dally mumbled, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes. I noticed his lip was swollen and a bruise had formed around his left eye.

"I can drive you to work tomorrow," Goldie offered.

"Are you sure? I gotta be there by 7:30," Dad said but he had a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I can drop you off a little early so I can make it to school on time," Goldie stated, "I don't see a problem with that."

"Thanks, man," Dad said appreciatively.

"I wish I knew how to drive," I stated glumly. I fiddled with one of the bandage wrappers in my hand.

"How old are you?" Dad asked, eyeing me.

"Fourteen," I answered.

"Shit. And you don't know how to drive?!" Dad chuckled which seemed to hurt his chest. He winced and groaned a bit.

"What kind of square folks are raising you?" Steve joked.

"Don't worry. Tomorrow, I'll teach you. Heck, my old man taught me when I was twelve! You oughta say to yours that he's a stuck up square who needs to teach his underage daughter how to drive!" Dad said enthusiastically.

I laughed and said, "don't worry. I definitely will next time I see him."

"Goldie, what's with you? I don't see any cuts or bruises?" Mom asked, making everyone look over at Goldie.

"I didn't do much fighting," he admitted.

"He was too busy hiding behind me the whole time," Dad laughed teasingly.

"No!" Goldie stated defensively, "I don't like fighting, that's all."

"He got a few good tackles in," Steve pointed