Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was moving day in the Curtis household and I was itching to get on the road and put Tulsa behind me. Darry’s decision to sell the family house and buy a farm in Walker Ridge, a town about three hours south of Tulsa, came as a shock to everyone except Soda and I. Being the country boys we are, we gave the plan our full approval. The others weren’t so sure.

“I never took you for a farmer, Darry. I can’t picture you out in the fields milking the moo-cows.”, Two-Bit’s eyes were full of laughter but his left eyebrow was cocked in question.

“It ain’t a livestock farm, Two. There’s one horse and a few chickens; I think I’ll manage. The real cash cow is the wheat field. Once I get everything set up, I’ll be raking in the dough.”, Darry cracked his knuckles and continued, “Besides, I reckon some fresh air and time away from the city ought to be good for Pony’s condition.”

“Condition” is the word Darry uses to refer to the inoperable cancer they found in my lungs, the result of many sleepless nights spent chain-smoking under a starless sky. Though the counselor we saw said that we should all feel comfortable talking about my cancer, truth be told, I didn’t like to talk or even think about it, and neither did my brothers. As long as I didn’t think too hard I could pretend it was all a bad dream – a technique I picked up after Johnny’s death.

Anyways, I didn’t even feel sick so I don’t know what good the country air would do me, but I would move to the farside of the moon if it meant finally getting out of Tulsa.

The place was called Blackbird Farm. It had belonged to some old man who passed away a few months back. The man’s only son lived in Colorado and he had no idea how to run a farm. He wanted to sell the place as quickly as possible. He didn’t seem to bat an eye when Darry’s offer was below asking price. 

And that leads us to today. Moving day. The gang promised to help us pack, but Dally never came. I knew when Two-Bit and Steve walked in the door without Dally that he wasn’t gonna show, just like he didn’t show for Johnny’s funeral. There was a time after Johnny’s death when I thought we might lose Dally too. I saw him around less and less, and one night I heard the gang talking about him. They must’ve thought I was asleep, and I should’ve been, but I heard them talking in the kitchen, about Dally. They thought Dally had gotten into drugs. Not like the mary jane that Soda sometimes came home reeking of. They meant hard drugs, the kind people died from. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him but my overactive imagination kept conjuring up images of him lying dead in some gas station bathroom and not being found for days. Needless to say, I woke Soda up several times that night. Then one day, about a week after my diagnosis, he showed up at the house for dinner. During the meal I couldn’t quit staring at him; I was looking for some sorta clue as to where he’d been. People on drugs were supposed to look different, right? But he just looked like regular ol’ Dally to me, maybe a bit thinner from when I last saw him. He caught my eye and gave me one of his classic wolf-like grins, and I felt my shoulders relax.

After that he was around a lot more. In fact, I saw him nearly everyday. Which is exactly why it hurt so much that he wouldn’t come to see us off, and I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

“Soda, he ain’t coming.”, Darry’s stern voice from the driver’s seat of our rented truck stirred me from my daze.

We had finished loading up our last boxes and had said our goodbyes to Steve and Two-Bit. The latter had given me a bone-crushing hug and I could tell it was all he could do to hold back the tears as he assured me he would come visit as soon as he could. Steve’s hug was quite the opposite; it was surprisingly gentle, like he thought I might snap in half if he wasn’t careful. 

I could see them both now, sitting on the curb in front of our eerily silent house that no longer belonged to us, as they waited for our truck to pull away. I had claimed the passenger seat, leaving Soda to sit in the middle. The only problem being that he refused to get in the truck at all.

“He said he was gonna be here. What’s the rush anyways? We can’t wait a few minutes for an old friend?”, Soda appealed.

“His word don’t mean what it used to, Soda. He knew what time we were leaving and he ain’t here, so there’s your answer.” Darry didn’t pull punches.

I felt my face mirror Soda’s as disappointment clouded his eyes. He begrudgingly went to the back of the box truck to slide the door shut (he had insisted on keeping it open until Dallas arrived). 

Suddenly I heard Steve cry out, “He’s headed your way!”

Sticking my head out the window, I turned to see what he was pointing at. 

Sure as anything, there was Dallas Winston bounding down the street like a damn jackrabbit. As he got closer, the first thing I noticed were the fresh bruises on his face, then the large backpack slung over his shoulder, and finally I noticed that he wasn’t slowing down. I thought he was gonna run right past us and keep going, but then I heard a heavy thunk sound that told me he had entered our box truck.

“Dally, what the hell?!”, Darry shouted. A fair question, I thought.

I heard Dally’s muffled response from the back of the truck, “The cops are after me, man! Don’t just stand there gawking, Soda! Shut the door and let’s go!”

I could only imagine what Soda’s face must’ve looked like as I heard the door slide shut.

And that was how Dallas came to live with us on Blackbird Farm.

Chapter Text

“He’s not staying here, Soda.”

Dally had just finished unloading the last box from the moving truck, and while Darry was secretly grateful for the extra hand, he felt it was time to lay down the law.

“Where do you want him to go, Dar? If he goes back to Tulsa the cops will book him the minute they see him.”

“Yeah, well maybe a trip to the cooler is what he needs to straighten his life out.”

Dally took no offense at Darry’s newfound disdain for him. After all, it was Dally who convinced Pony to run away from home when he got into trouble with the law. And it was Dally who had neglected the gang for months after Johnny’s death. And it was Dally who was now inviting himself to live in the Curtises’ new home.

Sure, if Dallas really wanted to hide from the cops, he had a number of places he could go, but he couldn’t shake this feeling that he was meant to stay here; he just needed to convince Darry of that.

Getting in between the two brothers he calmly stated his case, “I don’t intend to be a bum. I’ve done jobs on farms before. I can earn my keep. There’s a horse here, right?”

“Soda’s more than capable of taking care of the horse.”, Darry countered.

From the corner of his eye, Dally saw Pony head down the stairwell to the basement, clearly more interested in exploring the house than listening to his brothers argue.

“Well what about Pony?”

“There are no ponies here.”

“No, I mean Ponyboy. With you and Soda running the farm, he’ll sure be alone a lot. I can look out for him, see that he’s alright. You know that kid’s a magnet for trouble, don’t ya?”

Darry glanced at the clock on the wall before letting out a four-lettered word.

“Look, this conversation ain’t over, but me and Soda have to go return the moving truck before the rental place closes. We won’t be back until late tonight. If you could just make sure Ponyboy eats something before he goes to bed?”

“Sure. I ain’t a chef like you or Soda but I can fix him a sandwich or something.”

“Good deal.” He tossed his keys to Soda who headed out the door. Darry spun round to face Dally once more and with a severity in his voice that could rival supreme court judges he looked him in the eye and said, “Whatever you do, do not give him any cigarettes. If I find out he smoked a single cigarette while we were gone, let’s just say the cops will be the least of your worries.”

And without waiting for a response, he hurried out the door.

“Roger that.” Dally was left standing alone in the kitchen.                                                                                 

When Dally entered the living room he found Pony fiddling with an old TV set that had clearly been left behind by the man who once lived here. 

“Get any good channels?”

Pony glanced over his shoulder. “I’m surprised this old antenna picks up anything at all.” He settled into an armchair as he spoke.

There were no other chairs in the room so Dally stood next to Ponyboy and wondered if it was normal to feel this awkward with someone you had known for more than half your life.

“Did...did you want a blanket?”

Pony did not.

Dallas was about to retreat to the safety of the kitchen when Pony spoke up.

“Did you really do drugs?”

It was a helluva conversation starter. Well, Dally had never lied to the kid, and he wasn’t about to now.

“I did. Sold them for a while too.”

“What made you stop?”

In lieu of answering, Dallas picked up a lamp that had been resting in an old cardboard box. The base looked to be made of porcelain and depicted a pilgrim couple standing side-by-side.

“You think this shit’s worth something?”, he asked, holding the lamp precariously in one hand.

“Might be.” Pony turned back to face the crackling television set.

Dallas sighed and set the lamp down on a nearby table.

“I guess I just realized it was stupid to throw my life away like that. Especially when so many people are fighting for theirs, y’know?”

Pony studied Dally’s face until Dallas began to feel itchy. 

After what felt like forever he said, “So if you’re clean now, then why were the cops after you?”

Dallas smirked.

“Now there’s a question I can answer.”

Chapter Text

“You robbed the Cades?!”

Dally had just finished telling one of his embellished tales of daring escape. By now Pony could tell which of the gang’s stories were bull and which were real, and the sinking feeling in his stomach told him this one was bonafide. Pony couldn’t imagine any one of the gang voluntarily setting foot in the Cades’ house.

“It was gonna be your housewarming gift. I didn’t expect the old man to call the cops. Did you know the Cades owned a phone?”

Pony rolled his eyes and waited for Dallas to continue.

“Anyways I had already gotten what I’d come for so there was no point sticking around to chat with the fuzz.”

He handed Pony a familiar black-handled switchblade. Though it was only a small knife, it felt impossibly heavy in Pony’s hand.

“This…this is Johnny’s switchblade.” There was no hint of question in Pony’s voice. He had seen this switchblade countless times in his dreams. He never thought he’d see it again in real life.

The hospital had given all of Johnny’s belongings to his parents with the exception of one copy of “Gone With the Wind” that Johnny had made sure would end up with Pony.

“I can’t take this, Dal.” He tried to give it back but Dallas only pushed it deeper into his hands.

“Sure you can. He would have wanted you to have it. Besides that blade saved your life once, it might save you again someday.”

Pony wanted to say that nothing could save him anymore. Instead he wordlessly slipped the switchblade into his pocket.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. After a dinner of tuna sandwiches (it was all Dally could scrounge up), they settled in front of the grainy television once more. The dull droning of the newsreader was exactly what Pony needed to quiet his thoughts and calm his nerves. Dallas, on the other hand, was far from calm. He needed a smoke badly, and while Darry had only banned Pony from smoking, Dallas found that he couldn’t bring himself to light up around him. He fiddled with the cardboard box he was sitting on (he’d let Pony take the armchair) until a hole began to form, revealing the inner contents to be books. Pony must’ve packed this one, he guessed.

Finally Pony grew weary and announced he was going to bed which Dallas took as his opportunity to slip outside for a smoke.

Cigarette in mouth, Dally’s rejuvenated mind decided to resurface a forgotten train of thought.

Crap, nobody fed the horse!

Though the sun had set, blanketing the farm in darkness, Dallas did not slow his pace as he stumbled towards where he had seen the stables earlier.

The stables housed a single horse, a small pinto-colored mare. The placard tacked outside her stall indicated that her name was Sandy.

“Soda is going to lose it when he sees you, isn’t he, girl?”, Dallas murmured as he stroked her neck.

Soda had never gotten over his ex-girlfriend, Sandy. Or his ex-horse, Mickey. The combination of the two might be enough to bring the man to tears. Though it didn’t take much to do that anyways.

Stepping into her stall, Dallas was surprised to see that her food and water buckets were both full. Was she not eating? But just as Dally thought that she repositioned herself to face her food and commenced to eat. The stables were stuffy and warm and Dallas curiously dipped two fingers into her bucket of water. It was cold.

So someone had recently been in the stables to tend to Sandy. It couldn’t have been Pony; Dallas hadn’t seen him leave the house at all. And Darry and Soda hadn’t returned from returning the moving truck.

Dallas exited Sandy’s stall and cautiously peered into the other empty stalls as if expecting to find the phantom stablehand taking up residence in one. Once all the stalls were cleared and deemed unoccupied, he saw no reason to investigate further. He made to leave, but before he could, the stable doors creaked shut and Dallas cursed as he heard the outer latch click into place.

Chapter Text

Dally stirred in his sleep as he heard a door creak open and sunlight splashed across his face.

“See, Darry, I told you he wouldn’t have just up and left without saying bye.”

“That don’t explain why he chose to sleep in the stable, Pone.”

“Maybe he was reenacting the birth of Jesus,” Soda chirped.

“More likely he was high as a kite. If I find out he’s still using, I’ll turn him in to the cops myself,” Darry grunted.

“It wasn’t me…” Dally trailed off, struggling against the clutches of sleep. He had made himself a bed out of hay and it proved to be surprisingly comfortable.

Just as he was drifting off again, he was rudely interrupted by a hot puff of air in his face. He opened his eyes to find Sandy the horse inspecting his hair. His hair was blonde like hay, so before she got any funny ideas, he stood up and dusted himself off.

“What happened last night, Dally?” Pony was the only person who seemed concerned.

“I got locked in. Must’ve been the old stablehand. You guys didn’t tell him the farm was sold?”

“There is no stablehand. The owner did all the work by himself, is what the son told me.” Darry cocked an eyebrow at Dally. 

He clearly wasn’t buying his story but since there was little point in pressing the issue, he made to leave. 

“Soda, can you take the horse out and see how he is under saddle?”, Darry instructed as he exited the stable.

“Sure, but he’s a she, Darry.”

Sandy nibbled on the collar of Soda’s shirt.

The mild-mannered Sandy seemed to take on a new personality once the saddle was on. She was skittish and reluctant to let anyone approach. Pony tried to distract her with treats while Soda attempted to mount her, but as soon as she caught onto their scheme, she let out a terse snort and trotted away to the other side of the corral.

Dally was watching from outside the corral with a cigarette between his lips. (Pony had asked to bum a smoke, and Dally told him it wasn’t a good idea with Darry lurking around. Pony pulled a face but didn’t ask again.)

Now Dally put out the cigarette with the heel of his boot and hoisted himself over the fence.

“You wanna take a shot at it, Dal?” Soda asked as he wiped his brow.

Dally took Sandy’s reins and led her in a circle around the corral. He spoke soft words of encouragement with every few paces they took. Finally when Sandy let out a pleased whinny he led her back to the center. 

He placed one foot in a stirrup, then deftly lifted himself up and over until he was sitting squarely in the saddle. 

Soda let out a low whistle of delight, but the noise spooked the animal. It bucked once and then twice as Dally held on for dear life. He decided it was better to disembark the animal, but before he had a chance, Sandy gave a distressed bray and a third buck was able to dislodge Dally from the saddle.

He heard Pony cry out before he hit the ground and then it was lights out.

He awoke in a room filled with light. He shielded his eyes, but the light seemed to be coming from all directions.

“Took a spill, huh Dal?”

Dally recognized that voice, but it couldn’t be him…

He slowly opened his eyes and words failed him as he took in the sight of Johnny Cade. He was wearing his old jeans jacket and was sitting on a fence not unlike the corral fence that Dallas had hoisted himself over mere moments ago. 

Actually now that Dally looked around, they were in a corral, but it was empty. Where had the others gone? And how could Johnny be here?

“It’s really me.” Johnny answered Dally’s question before he could ask it. “But you’re not at the farm, not really, it only looks like it to you.”

“Then where is this place?”

“Think of it as a place between the living and the dead. Only those who are close to death can come here.”

“So I’m dead then, am I?”

“Naw, you’re a bit concussed, but you’ll be alright. You’ll be sore as hell when you wake up though, I can guarantee you that.”

“You know, everyone misses you a whole lot. Pony especially.”

“Really? I just talked to him not so long ago. He comes here all the time.”

Dallas felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“That means he’s really dying then, huh?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“What? Did they make you his guardian angel or something?”

“Or something.” He smiled to himself, then he suddenly grabbed Dally by the shoulders. “We don’t have much time here. I gotta tell you something important, Dal.”

“What is it, Johnnycake? If they ain’t treating you right in heaven, you just let me kn–”

“No, it’s not that. It’s about Pony. But I gotta say it exactly right or it won’t work.”

He scrunched up his face in consternation, then all of a sudden he had a faraway look in his eyes, his skin seemed to grow limp and grey, and perhaps most disturbing to Dallas, he spoke without his usual southern drawl, as if stealing the words out of someone else’s mouth.

“There are cancers of the body that kill people from the inside out. Then there are cancers of society that kill people from the outside in. I sense the presence of such a person living somewhere nearby. Find this cancer and eliminate them and I may be able to grant a boon to save Pony’s life.”

Then just like that, color returned to his face, and he was once again the same old Johnny whose clumsy smile could light up a room.

“I reckon you oughta be waking up now before you worry the others too much.”

Sure enough, Dallas could faintly hear a voice calling to him in the distance that sounded like it belonged to a panic-stricken Ponyboy.

But Dallas couldn’t leave now; he had too many questions to ask. Would he see Johnny again? And what did that riddle about cancer even mean?

Before he could decide which one to ask, a third question sprang from his mouth.
“How do I know this ain’t just a dream?”

Johnny winked and said, “Frozen peas work better.”

Dallas was shaken awake by a pale-faced Ponyboy. 

“Dally! Are you alright?”

“Quit shaking him, Pony. He looks a little queasy”

“I’m okay. I think… I think I just hit my head.”

“You did. I can see a bump forming already. Pony, go and get some ice from the freezer.”

“Are you sure? Frozen peas work better.”

Dallas felt a cold chill run through him as he suddenly recalled his conversation with Johnny. So it was real then, not a dream. But what was it that Johnny was trying to tell him? Something about saving Pony, wasn’t it? But to do that he had to eliminate a cancer, or was it a person he was looking for?

“Hurry, Pony! I think he’s gonna pass out!”

Chapter Text

We had been at the farm for about two weeks now, and I thought I’d never say it, but I was starting to miss Tulsa. It wouldn’t be so bad if only I had something to do, but Darry refused to let me help with the farm work. He said I’m supposed to take things easy. All because I had a real bad coughing fit a couple days ago. It only lasted a minute or two. I kept telling them to quit fussing over me; they didn’t fuss this much over Dally when he got that concussion. Speaking of Dally, he’d been acting real strange ever since that day. I liked Dally usually, he wasn’t as mean as he used to be, and he never treated me like a little kid. But now he seemed a lot quieter, and he kept hovering around me to the point it was making me antsy. He once even followed me to the bathroom and when I asked what he was doing he just shook his head and walked away. I guess I couldn’t blame him; I remember acting all kinds of strange after my concussion. Still I needed to get away from him for a bit, so I grabbed a house plant and told him I was going to the shed to repot it.

He’d been sitting on the floor, fiddling with his lighter as the TV droned on in the background. He looked up at me but I slipped out the door before he could say anything. I didn’t think Dallas had any interest in gardening, but I didn’t want to risk him tagging along anyways.

The shed looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. There was all sorts of equipment and tools that I couldn’t begin to guess the use of. I set my plant down and started to sort through all of it. Most of it looked like rusted old junk, but maybe if I found something useful, Darry would stop treating me like an invalid.

I waded a little further in but stopped short when I felt something tacky sticking to my shoes. Looking down, I followed a trail of dark ruby to the corner of the shed, where the body of a cat lay crumpled in a heap. Its entrails were pouring out of its chest cavity and were steeped in a puddle of blood. 

I felt the back of my throat start to act up and I had to shut my eyes as I was forced to recall that night at the fountain. The pool of blood and the stench that emanated from it. What had Johnny said then? That he hadn’t expected people to have so much blood inside of them…

I took a deep breath.

Cool it, man. This isn’t a murder scene. The cat probably crawled in here to die, and its body got eaten up by rats. That’s just nature. 

Still in my hurry to get away, I backed up into some shelves and dumped a box of nails right over me. 

I wasn’t one for swearing, but I let out a couple of curses under my breath. At least it didn’t seem like I was hurt any, so I picked up my feet and made for the exit; I needed to get the hell out of this shed.

But before I could step any further, I heard the rattling of the door knob. I was praying that it was Soda and not Darry. If Darry saw the mess I made, he was sure to give me an earful.

But the man who entered the shed wasn’t Soda or Darry. It was a man I’d never seen before. He looked to be middle aged, a bit stocky with brown hair, and he looked surprised to see me.

“I was just dropping off the tools I borrowed.” He motioned to the toolbox in his hand.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Had this man borrowed tools from us? Why hadn’t Darry told me about him?

Seeing my confusion he continued, “You must be the folks that just moved in. My name’s Robert. I live a couple miles down the road. I used to help the old man out around the farm.”

Suddenly something clicked in my mind. “So you were the one that locked Dally in the stable!”

“If I did, it wasn’t my intention. I had no idea when y'all would arrive and I didn’t want ol’ Sandy to go hungry. I should’ve double checked the stalls before locking up. My apologies.”

“It’s alright.” I said, even though I wasn’t the one who had to sleep in a bale of hay.

He took a rag from his back pocket and handed it to me.

At my blank stare he explained, “You’re bleeding.”

“I am? Where?”

“Your neck.” He pointed to his own neck as if he thought I needed a visual aide.

I had completely forgotten about my run in with a box of nails mere moments ago. I guess I hadn’t escaped unscathed after all.

He approached me, maybe to get a better look at my injury.

“Get the fuck away from him.”

My head shot up to see Dallas Winston, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame with a cold look in his eyes.

Robert tucked his rag back in his pocket and said, “Hey, buddy, I’m not here to cause problems.”

Dally didn’t move, but he glanced in my direction and said, “Did you fucking hurt him?”

I realized I still had blood trickling down my neck.

“I’m okay, Dal. I bumped into some shelves is all.”

“I just came to drop off some tools and me and your brother got to chatting. But I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. Y’all have a good day now.”

Robert slowly edged his way out the door.

As soon as he was past the threshold, Dallas slammed the door behind him.

“Uh, Dally? I’ve spent more time in this shed than I’ve ever wanted to spend time anywhere. Can’t we leave too?”

Dallas didn’t answer my question. Instead he pressed a handkerchief into my hand which I used to dab at my neck.

“If he said anything weird to you, you can tell me. I won’t tell your brothers.”

“Thanks? All he said was he’s our neighbor, I think.”

Later, during dinner, Dally kept glancing out the window every five seconds. It was getting on my nerves so much that when he wasn’t looking I stole the mashed potatoes off his plate.

Chapter Text

Dally lay awake in bed as moonlight shone in through his window which was cracked open to let his cigarette smoke filter out. He thought long and hard about Johnny’s message. It had to be like a sacrifice. Trading one life for another. But it sounded to Dally like the sacrificial lamb had to be a particular person. Someone who deserved it, someone who had hurt or even killed people. 

He thought back to his encounter with Robert in the shed. He didn’t like the guy’s vibes, but he hadn’t actually witnessed him hurting anyone. Still he couldn’t rule him out as a possibility. He would keep his eyes peeled, and as long as there was a potential killer hanging around, he would make sure to keep Pony in his line of sight as well.

Actually there was another reason for keeping an eye on Pony: his condition was getting worse. Just today he witnessed him struggling to climb the stairs to his bedroom.

Dally put out his cigarette and turned to lay on his side. He needed to find his mark and quickly.

The next morning Dallas awoke to find the youngest and oldest brother engaged in an argument in the kitchen.

“But we always used to go to church every Sunday morning when Mom and Dad were alive!”

“Pony, the fields need to be worked every morning and if I don’t start early, it’ll get to be too hot.”

The middle brother shrugged helplessly, “Sorry, Pone. What’s so interesting about church all of a sudden anyways? You hated going when we were kids.”

Pony pushed away his breakfast in disgust. “Nevermind. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

The words slipped out of Dally’s mouth before he could stop them. “I’ll take him.”

The three brothers looked up, suddenly noticing Dally’s presence. Each one looked more confused than the last.

Soda was the first to speak. “You wanna go to church? Ain’t you afraid the holy water will burn you?”

Pony snickered, so Dallas snatched his plate of eggs from him and started stuffing his face to avoid cursing them all out.

He didn’t know why he offered to take Pony, and sure, the last time he'd set foot in a church (albeit an abandoned one) it had burst into flames, but he was Dallas Winston and he could go wherever he pleased, goddammit!

“I said I’ll take him.” He murmured between bites of scrambled egg.

Darry slowly handed the keys to him as if giving him time to back out.

“Just to church and back. Don’t take him drag racing or nothin’.”

Dally took the keys and quietly scoffed. As if he would go drag racing in Darry’s old pickup truck, he would get laughed at. He kept these thoughts to himself since he knew how much Darry loved his truck.

Since they lived out in the country, they had a bit of a drive before they would reach the chapel. Dallas used this time to think. He thought back to what Johnny said. If it’s true that Pony also spoke to him, then perhaps he had more information that Dallas could use. 

But he struggled to think of a way to broach the subject. He couldn’t just accuse Pony of talking to the dead, he would look like a lunatic. And what if it wasn’t even real, just some sad hallucination of a recovering addict? But something about it seemed so real that Dallas couldn’t let it go. Maybe if he just mentioned Johnny, Pony would let something slip.

“Didn’t you use to take Johnny to church with you, after your folks passed?”

Pony tore his face away from the window to look at Dallas.

“Yeah, but we got thrown out ‘cause Two-Bit and Steve were fooling around, remember? We never went back ‘cause we didn’t want them to think we were just there to cause trouble.”

Pony shrugged and turned back towards the window.

So much for that tactic. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

The chapel was a lot larger than Dallas had expected. However, that had the effect of making it seem cavernous. There just weren’t enough people to fill it up, and every step they took echoed  dissonantly. The few people that were attending mass that day whipped their heads around to stare at the pair of greasers.

Dally looked over at Pony who was dressed in his blue sweatshirt that he had chopped the sleeves off of one summer day. His blue jeans were miraculously devoid of holes, but the same couldn’t be said about his sneakers. Dallas was wearing his leather jacket as always, and his black boots that went up past his ankles.

They looked tuff, so what if the locals couldn’t appreciate it?

Dally swung an arm around Pony’s shoulders and led him to an empty pew.

Finally the pastor entered the room and everyone faced forward once more. The priest was a tall man with a balding head; he wore a white robe with gold trim instead of the usual black.

Just by looking at him Dallas could tell he was the kind of the guy who loved to hear himself talk. Dallas flipped up the collar on his jacket and settled in for what would surely be a long sermon.

Dally wasn’t sure at what point he fell asleep, but when he awoke the chapel was nearly empty including Dally’s own pew. Had Pony left without him? He cursed and swiveled his head around until he spotted Pony behind the altar speaking to the pastor. 

The pastor wore a concerned expression as he nodded his head. He placed a hand on Pony’s forearm, and began to lead him to a connecting room.

Dally got up and intercepted them.

“Nice sermon, Father. Real inspiring and all that. Unfortunately, Pony’s on strict bedrest, so I’ll be taking him home now.”

“You’re Dallas, are you not?” 

Dally shot a glare at Pony who smiled sheepishly. He didn’t want this guy knowing his name.

The man continued, “Next week I suggest having some coffee before attending morning mass.”

“Right, will do.” Dally tried to pull Pony away but the man kept going.

“Of course, there’s always evening mass for the more nocturnally inclined.”

Dallas frowned. That had to be a joke, right? There were hardly any people at morning mass, he couldn’t imagine anyone attending mass at night. He looked the pastor hard in the eye; he was smiling. It pissed Dally off.

“C’mon, Pony. We gotta get home before your older brother sends out a search party.”

As they turned to leave, the priest called out to Dallas once more.

“Your friend is a very special boy. I wouldn’t let him stray too far if I were you.”

Only after they arrived home and bolted the door behind them did Dally stop gritting his teeth.