Chapter Text
Ponyboy Curtis was a mystery to all.
Sure, he was known by nearly everyone in Tulsa, but no one truly knew him. Not his brothers, not his friends, and definitely not his parents. It’s not like he was antisocial or anything; his father had him at every social event possible the moment he could walk.
It was hard connecting with people that didn’t bother understanding him. It made him feel alone, even when he was surrounded by a group of so-called friends. He did his best to not let it bother him though.
But, how could he not be bothered by it when it seems as though everyone but him didn’t have the same issue?
He would walk around town and go past many groups of people who were surrounded by friends that weren’t making snarky remarks or making them feel uncomfortable, and each time he’d get a churning feeling in his stomach. Ponyboy wanted that; he wanted to have at least one person in his life that truly cared for him.
And this is the story of how he got what he wanted and more.
—
“You don’t know what you want! You’re just a kid!”
“Yeah? Well, I know I don’t want to be part of this conversation!”
Ponyboy looked down at his shoes with an empty expression, ignoring the voice screaming at him. This argument had been going on for nearly an hour, changing topics from one thing to another.
His stepmother glared at him. “You best keep that attitude in check! Wait till your father hears about this.”
Ponyboy scoffed at her, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course, as soon as he says something she doesn’t like, she’s quick to tell his father.
“Why can’t you be like your brothers! They ain’t give me and your dad as much problems as you do!”
It seemed as though she couldn’t quit talking. She looked him up and down, scowling at the mere sight of him.
She shook her head and scoffed, “We gave you a good life! But you can’t be grateful. I wonder how your mo-“
Ponyboy was trying his best to ignore her, but his patience could only last so long. He quickly brushed past her, stopping her from finishing her sentence. She quickly fell into step behind him, yelling at him to stop.
“You’re a spoiled brat! I’m not done, Michael!” She followed him throughout the almost empty house.
Ponyboy ignored the use of his middle name, pushing down the anger bubbling inside him. He didn’t hesitate to walk right out the door, slamming it behind him before his stepmother could stop him.
He was already halfway down the driveway when her voice rang throughout the night, “Fine, you piece of shit! Don’t come back till tomorrow!”
Once he was in town, a smile was plastered on his face. He would wave at familiar faces, sometimes engaging in conversation with them. He’d ignore any questions about his father or eldest brother, preferring to avoid talking about them altogether.
It wasn’t like he hated them or anything; he just didn’t get along with them all too well.
Ponyboy found himself sitting on the curb in front of his favorite diner, smiling at anyone that looked over at him. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was sitting on the curb when he had more than enough money to go inside. All he knew was that something was telling him to wait there.
He watched as people walked by, both greasers and socs with different stories to tell. It humored him how the greasers seemed much more alive than the socs. His family had always told him that the greasers had nothing to live for and were miserable with their lives, but it didn’t seem that way to him.
Ponyboy didn’t care much about titles, understanding that everyone had their own problems to deal with, whether they were socs or greasers. His father disliked that about him, wanting Ponyboy to realize “socs were better than greasers.”
Ponyboy disagreed. He didn’t know many greasers, maybe only one or two, but he knew most of them were much nicer than the many socs he had known throughout his life.
There was one greaser in particular that Ponyboy knew of but never knew personally. He was known by nearly everyone in Tulsa due to his reputation.
Dallas Winston.
Ponyboy had always been curious about Dallas Winston. He’d heard the stories, the whispers of his reputation that floated through the halls of his high school and the streets of their small town.
Dallas was known for being tough, cold, and unapproachable, a figure that even the bravest of the Greasers didn’t dare to cross. Yet, despite all the tales of his cruelty and the fear he instilled in others, Ponyboy couldn’t help but feel there was more to Dallas than met the eye.
He often found himself wondering about the real Dallas Winston, the one who existed beneath the hardened exterior.
Was he truly as heartless as everyone said, or was there a different side to him, a side that no one had ever seen? Ponyboy’s thoughts wandered to the moments when he had caught glimpses of Dallas from afar.
There was a certain intensity in his eyes, a depth that suggested a hidden world of emotions and experiences.
Ponyboy couldn’t shake the feeling that Dallas was misunderstood, that his rough demeanor was a shield to protect himself from the world. He imagined what it would be like to break through that barrier, to see the person Dallas was when no one else was watching.
This curiosity gnawed at him, making him eager to discover the truth about Dallas Winston, the boy who seemed to be both an enigma and a challenge.
Ponyboy was snapped out of his thoughts when he caught a glimpse of a leather jacket.
Dallas seemed to be on a warpath as he made his way toward the diner. Ponyboy found himself straightening his back as he watched him with curious eyes, taking notice of the way Dallas’ hands were trembling.
Ponyboy didn’t doubt that there would be a fight as soon as Dallas found who he was looking for. He wasn’t a big fan of fighting or trouble in general, but he couldn’t seem to will himself to leave before anything happened. Dallas’ presence alone had him frozen in place, his curiosity urging him to stay.
Before Dallas could get any closer to the diner, an officer stopped him in his tracks.
Ponyboy watched as the officer seemed to push all the wrong buttons, the anger on Dallas’ face becoming more intense. Not too long after, Dallas and the officer seemed to be arguing as the officer spoke into his radio.
“I was just gonna get somethin’ to eat!”
“Yeah, right, Winston. Save it for someone who’ll believe you.”
“Listen, I ain’t lyin’! Why don’t you get off my back for once?”
“Cool it, or you’ll be spending the night down at the station,” the officer warned, his tone stern.
“Damn it, I ain’t done nothin’!” Dallas shouted, his frustration evident.
“That’s it, Winston. Turn around. You’re under arrest,” the officer ordered, pulling out his handcuffs.
Ponyboy always prided himself on knowing when to keep out of trouble, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have moments of weakness.
Without hesitation, Ponyboy rushed over to Dallas and the officer, his fear of cops nonexistent at that moment. He quickly put himself between the two before the officer could get any closer to the greaser. Now that he was closer, he instantly recognized the officer in front of him.
Ponyboy couldn’t be bothered to remember his name, but he did remember the officer’s admiration for Ponyboy’s father. He knew exactly how to get Dallas out of this situation.
The officer narrowed his eyes at the fifteen-year-old in front of him. “Do you need something, Curtis?”
Ponyboy did his best to look as innocent as possible. “I just came to get Dallas. I’ve been waitin’ for him for a while now.”
“Sorry, kid, but Winston is getting arrested. You’re gonna have to step aside.”
“Oh no way! Can I ask why exactly he’s gettin’ arrested?”
Ponyboy looked back and forth between Dallas and the officer, pretending to be shocked. He ignored the glare on Dallas’ face.
This must be hurtin’ his pride or somethin’. Ponyboy thought to himself.
The officer was getting antsy. “That’s just how it is, kid. Now step aside.”
“No, really, why’s he gettin' arrested?” Ponyboy pushed further, waiting for the right moment.
“Look, he was threatening an officer, alright? Now, move along.” The officer took a small step forward.
Ponyboy stood still, refusing to move even an inch. He tilted his head to the side, pushing his elbow back to hit Dallas, who moved as if to make a run for it.
“We both know that isn’t true. I was sittin’ right over there, watchin’ what happened,” Ponyboy pointed over to the curb he had been sitting on.
“So do you want to tell me the truth as to why you’re arresting my friend, or should I take this up with my father and let him deal with you for arresting someone without reason?”
Ponyboy hated using his family’s reputation to get things but this situation was worth it.
The officer’s eyes widened at the mention of his father. Ponyboy fought the urge to laugh at the pathetic officer in front of him.
“Uh, that’s not necessary. It’s all just a misunderstanding. Winston is free to go.”
Ponyboy nodded with a smile. “I thought so. Have a good day.”
He was quick to grab Dallas and walk away from the officer. Dallas tensed at the unexpected hold on his hand, allowing himself to get dragged away before pulling his hand out of Ponyboy’s.
“Are you alright?” Ponyboy asked, his tone filled with honest concern.
He couldn’t imagine how stressful that situation must’ve been. Sure, Dallas was known for getting into all kinds of trouble, but he didn’t deserve to be targeted by officers just cause.
Dallas scoffed. “What’s a soc like you doing helping a greaser? I don’t need your charity.”
“I just wanted to help, that’s all.” Ponyboy shrugged, not seeing the big deal.
Dallas stared at him with suspicion written across his face. “Yeah, right. What’s in it for you, huh?”
“I don’t want anythin’ in return, really. I just wanted to help!”
“Guess I owe you one, but don’t push your luck.”
“Alright, no need to get all worked up,” Ponyboy said with a slight grin. “I don’t really need you to owe me anythin’, just wanted to help out. Take care, Dallas."
Ponyboy smiled brightly at the greaser before leaving. Dallas watched as Ponyboy walked away, trying his best to push away the curiosity bubbling inside him.