Summary: Two-Bit vowed never to let tragedy affect him again after his dad left. Ponyboy vowed never to let death affect him again after his parents died. But when two of their best friends are in the caskets, all bets are off.
Disclaimer- The Outsiders are not owned by me, but by the brilliant S.E. Hinton.
Authors Note- The conclusion that Two-Bit was 13 in 1961 is based on my findings that he was born in 1948 and The Outsiders takes place in 1966. His sister, Laura, is 12 in 1966 in this fic so she was born in 1954 and was 7 in 1961. This fic takes place two weeks after Johnny and Dally died, so about late September, 1966.
Prologue
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Two-Bit (1961, age 13)
Mom filed for a divorce today. She told me things would change for the better. Dad would leave and with him would go the fighting, the problems...everything that had made our lives living hell for the past three years. But I didn’t believe here. How could I believe whatever her or dad said? They said they would work it out when I’d asked them about their fighting two years ago. But they still fight. And now they’re getting a divorce. They aren’t going to work it out. They lied.
Laura was four when the fighting started. She’s seven now and the fighting hasn’t stopped. Laura just closes the door now. She can block the fighting out, sort of zone out like Pony can when he’s reading a book or daydreaming. I wish I was that lucky. I don’t want to hear the fighting anymore. I don’t want to hear the accusing, the yelling, the cursing...the fighting anymore. I’m tired of it, but mom and dad just don’t get it.
“Are you alright with this, Two-Bit?” Mom ended my stupor with her question. Is she for real? “No mom, I’m not. I don’t know why you think I would be. Do you remember when I was 11, and you said you would work it out? Well, it looks like you lied, mom.” I replied. Blew up, really. Mom looked hurt. “Two-Bit, some marriages just don’t work out...” She tried to explain. “I ain’t buying that, Mom. You and dad have been married for 15 years. Save the explanations for Laura.” I said, bitterly.
Mom pulled up at our house a few minutes later. I jumped out before she even had the car stopped and found myself heading in the direction of the Curtis house. They’ve been my friends for a few years now. “Two-Bit! Come inside, please. You can go over to Soda’s later. I have to talk to you.” My mom called. “You already did,” I yelled, without looking back. “And that didn’t go so well, did it?” I rounded the corner and her shouts were lost.
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Pony (January 1966, age 13)
The sun set in a brilliant haze of orange, red and yellow. I watched from my back porch while Darry cooked dinner. Mom and dad went out for dinner and a movie. “Hey Pony, are ya hungry? Dinner’s up.” Darry called from the kitchen. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec, Dar.” I stood up and rubbed my arms to warm them. I was always forgetting to wear a sweatshirt when I watched the sunset.
“Hey Dar, are Mom and Dad gonna be home soon? They said they’d be home before dinner.” I asked when I went in. “They’ll be home any minute, Pony. Was Soda out back?” Darry answered, taking the chicken out of the oven. “Nope. I think he went out with Steve, didn’t he?” I replied. Darry nodded. “That’s right. He said he’d be home by curfew.” I started setting the table for mom, dad, Darry and me.
I think even Darry started worrying when mom and dad weren’t home an hour later. Mom and dad were always home when they said they would be, unless something happened. They had only ever been late once before, and that was because of a flat tire. Even then, they weren’t this late. Mom and dad never worried us like this. Something was wrong. I could feel it.
The minutes ticked by slower. Each minute that passed meant mom and dad were a minute later, and I worried a little more. The TV was still on, more for noise then anything else. I glanced at the door every few seconds. Soda actually stuck his head out of the window to look up and down the street every couple of minutes. Darry glanced at the door every couple of seconds, like me. We were all hoping mom and dad would come in with a story about long lines at the store or a bad traffic jam.
A knock at the door broke the silence. Soda’s face turned pale when he looked out the window and saw it wasn’t mom and dad. I’m pretty sure my face followed suit. Darry got up and opened the door when they knocked a second time. His face paled.
Standing at our door were two cops with grave faces. They brought bad news. Something was definitely wrong.
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Two-Bit (1961, age 13)
Three hours later I was standing at the front door. This is the moment I’d been dreading all afternoon. I didn’t want to face my mom after what I’d said. But I meant those things and I wasn’t going to take them back, no matter how many months I got grounded for or how many weeks I wasn’t allowed to have dessert for. I wasn’t going to take them back because I meant them, and I wanted my mom to know that.
My train of though was stopped in its tracks when I heard the yelling. I sighed when I realized what it was. Mom and dad were fighting again. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected this. It was pretty common in our house now. Well, at least mom was distracted. Now was as good a time as any to sneak to my room. Maybe mom and dad wouldn’t notice.
I opened the door and the volume of the screaming intensified. The shouting stooped when the door slammed behind me. “Two-Bit? Is that you?” Mom called. “Yeah, it’s me.” I called back, uncertainly. “Come here. We need tot talk.” So she was going to try that talking bullshit again. “No, mom. I don’t wanna talk about it.” I replied. “We have too...” She pleaded. “No we don’t.” I groaned. I didn’t hear her reply because I went to my room and slammed the door.
“THAT DAMN KID-“ My dad’s scream filled the house. “YOU SHUT UP, DAVID! IF YOU HATE ME AND MY KIDS SO MUCH SIGN THESE DIVORCE PAPERS AND LEAVE ALREADY!” Mom’s reply left the house shaking. “MAYBE I WILL!” I stuck my head out into the hallway to see what was happening. Dad had grabbed a pen and was signing the divorce papers. Mom looked like she wanted to take what she’d said back. She looked like she didn’t want dad to leave.
Dad finished signing the papers and handed them back to mom. I heard a door slam and saw Laura run down the hallway. “No Daddy...don’t go! I want you to stay! Please daddy? I’ll be good! Two-Bit’ll be good! Please! Daddy, don’t go! I want you to stay! Please!” Laura’s pleading made me feel even guiltier then I already was. If I hadn’t slammed my bedroom door...
“Sorry baby, but I have to go. Your mom and I just aren’t happy anymore and we don’t want to fight anymore. It will be best for all of us if I move out.” Dad explained. Yeah right! I wanted to yell. That’s a load of bull! “Daddy, no it won’t! I love you! I don’t want you to leave. Please stay.” Laura pleaded. Her voice cracked. She was about to cry. If I hadn’t slammed my fucking door my little sister wouldn’t be about to cry and Dad wouldn’t be leaving.
Dad put Laura down and the waterworks started. She followed Dad to his and mom’s room. I followed discreetly. Laura and I watched from the doorway as dad packed his clothes, some magazines and a few other things. “I’ll come back for the rest. Tell your mother.” He told us. “Dad...do you have to go?” I asked. Dad looked sad. “Yes, I do. Your mother doesn’t want me here.” He said. “Well, talk to her!” I pleaded. “We’ve tried that. It didn’t work.”
Dad headed to the door, stopping only for his coat. He walked out the door and that was it. My dad was gone. He was out of our lives for good. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even care enough to say goodbye to us. He was gone.
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Ponyboy (January 1966, age 13)
Darry was the first to speak. “How...How can I help you?” He stammered. The first cop spoke. “Is this the Curtis residence and am I speaking to a Mr. Darrel Curtis, Jr.?” Darry nodded. “Son, we have some bad news. Could we come in?” The second cop asked. “Sure thing.” Darry moved out of the door frame and held the door open for the policemen. They sat on the couch between Soda and I.
“I’m Officer James Walden and this is my partner, Officer Richard Larson.” The first cop began. “Tonight, at about 8:15, we believe your parents were in a car accident. We hate to have to ask you to do this, but we need you to come down to the hospital to identify the bodies.” Identify the bodies. It sounded so...gross and unforgiving. No one should have to tell the police if their loved one is dead or not.