Chapter Text
Still on the back porch of Buck Merrill's ramshackle house, Sherri Valance stood rooted in place, trembling with more emotions than she could juggle at once. Humiliation, of course. Jealousy, like a dark tide rising in her chest. Anger, still sparking at the edges of her vision, but under it all, a hollow sadness. The party swam around her for a moment and she was distantly aware of conversations picking back up, laughter still echoing in pockets of the yard, but the mood had shifted. The sixteen year old Soc could feel eyes flicking to her, cruel and curious, the carefree vibe having been punctured by the ugly scene Dallas Winston had orchestrated. Her breath came in short, stuttered pants as she started to wobble away from the scene of the crime.
Cherry had just made it to the side of the house, a concerning tingle making the tips of her fingers feel painfully numb when Marcia materialized at her side. Her co-captain looked sick for her, soft face flattened in second-hand shock. She reached out and touched Cherry’s arm lightly. “Oh my god, Cherry—!”
“Don’t,” the redhead managed to choke out. Her voice sounded far away to her own ears and she thought if she met her friend’s eyes she might actually burst into tears right there in front of everyone and she’d rather drop dead than give them the satisfaction. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll go get Keith,” Marcia went on, unfazed even if she did snatch her fingers back. “We’ll drive you home right now.”
“I’m fine ,” Cherry repeated, the words hitting the other girl’s back as she turned and hurried the way they’d come.
Sherri continued her dazed path along the edge of Buck’s, half leaning half dragging along the paneling, her vision blurred with unshed tears as she made a beeline for the front. The porch lights didn’t reach this far and the shadows stretched long and crooked along the wall, swallowing her in their quiet. Through the thin siding and cracked windows she could hear the South siders of Tulsa continuing their fun. Laughter rang out loud and unbothered, a chair scraped across tile, someone yelled for a drink and another voice shouted back. Hank Williams was still playing.
Life was going on as if her world hadn’t just tilted.
The front of the house was practically deserted compared to the rest of the property, greasers knowing better than to spill out onto the street while they were drinking. The lawn had cars and bikes parked all across the dead grass and the streetlamp on the sidewalk was on its way to burning out, the light buzzing on and off and on and off and on and off. Cherry hugged herself, crunching dead leaves and bottle caps and forgotten cigarette butts on the way to Keith's car, parked haphazardly near a fire hydrant. Her jittery fingers tried the back door then the front, the passenger side then the driver’s and the cheerleader felt hysterical giggles shaking her core as she realized she was locked out.
“It’s fine!” she insisted into the night, throwing her head back as a breeze took her hair off her shoulders. Her teeth chattered and her knees knocked. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. Marcia’s on her way soon.”
Sherri nodded like she meant it then, unsure what else to do, circled to the side of the car facing the road and squatted down beside it, arms wound tight around her middle. She balanced on the balls of her feet, calves pulled taught in a position the girl knew would grow painful the longer she held it as she waited and wondered and wished the tears sliding down her cheeks would just stop. She wasn’t even sure when they’d started. God , she hoped not in front of Marcia.
Cherry drew in several slow breaths and wiped at her face angrily. The autumn air stirred the perfume from her hair, undercut by cigarette smoke wafting from the backyard. The Soc realized her fingers were trembling and clasped them tightly in her lap. It felt like the entire night had collapsed around her; all her careful coyness, her heightened hopes of Dallas helping her to forget for just a little while. All backhanded by a truth she’d been too blind to see. Above the sky was a deep navy studded with a few dull stars and Cherry focused on one to give her vision a chance to clear.
As her heartbeat gradually slowed from its rabbiting pace the cheerleader replayed the last few minutes in her mind with a cool clarity.
Sherri could admit, all alone out there in the dark, that she felt a small sting of shame. She’d called Ponyboy Curtis a little kid, insulted him in front of everyone as if he were nothing but an obstacle. When she pictured the fourteen year old boy’s earnest little face, the way he had stopped to check on her that morning, and then thought about the hurt and humiliation he must have felt when she’d propositioned Dallas, guilt churned Cherry’s gut. Pony, who had only ever been kind to her and who looked at Dallas like he hung the moon, she’d reduced that boy to a cheap shot about a school bus.
Over Dallas Winston of all people.
A gurgled noise that was some awful abomination between a laugh and a sob shook out of her and Sherri pressed a fist against her mouth a moment, eyes squeezed painfully shut, before she gasped and blinked them open again. The redhead wiped her damp eyes, smearing whatever remnants were left of her makeup over her jaw and down her neck. She sniffed and wondered where Marcia was; she just wanted to get out of there with whatever scrap of dignity she had left. Eventually she knew this mortification would fade, but Tulsa wasn’t a big town and gossip traveled fast. News about Bob had been all through the halls in less than a day and now on the tail end of that everyone would know Cherry Valance got shown up by Dallas Winston and his baby greaser boyfriend.
Ginger brows furrowed at the word. Thinking of the toughest guy in Tulsa walking around with a smart, sweet, straight-A boyfriend felt insane and yet, now that she’d really seen them, Cherry thought it also felt a bit obvious. It explained so much; Dallas’s protectiveness, Pony’s hero worship that had clearly shifted into something deeper, the way Marcia and the gang all spoke around them, the way Dallas had looked at her all day—like she was stepping into territory she had no right being in.
A screen door creaked open and Cherry glanced over her shoulder, ready to stand and figuratively and literally dust herself off if Two-Bit and Marcia were ready to go, but then she froze. Through the front door she saw Dallas stepping out onto the stoop, the interior light carving his silhouette. He had one hand on the doorframe as he paused, looking back inside, and Sherri instinctively shrank further into the shadow of Keith’s car. A second later Ponyboy appeared beside Dally in the doorway, following him outside.
The redhead held her breath, suddenly afraid to move as Dal turned to Pony on the threshold. In the warm light spilling from the house Cherry could see them clearly even though they couldn’t see her. She should have probably announced herself, slipped away, but something made her go still and silent, watching the two of them. The older teen’s expression had lost its hard edge, his brows were knit and concern was softening his rough features. Likewise Pony was gazing up at him, eyes a little wide and worry evident in the downturn of his lips. Sherri could catch snippets of their conversation.
“—you alright?” Dallas muttered, one hand coming up to rest on the younger teen’s shoulder.
Ponyboy nodded, but then paused and tilted his head back and forth in a half-hearted dismissal. His voice was small when he answered, “I’m fine…You mad?”
“Not at you, kid,” the hood assured, voice rough and tender in turn. His large hand moved from Pony’s shoulder to slide up and squeeze the muscles of his neck, his thumb pressing into the soft spot under the fourteen year old’s jaw. The baby greaser leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment like he relished the simple contact and Cherry felt her chest clench. It was a gesture so achingly intimate that she had to remind herself to breathe. They were still talking.
“I’m sorry,” the youngest Curtis murmured. Cherry almost didn’t catch it. “I shouldn’ta invited her—”
“Quit it,” Dallas interrupted, shaking his head, “Ain’t your fault she had to get told what’s what.”
Sherri winced and Pony unconsciously mirrored her. He looked troubled, his freckled face creased with a frown. “You think she’ll give us any trouble?”
The taller teen gave a soft, humorless chuckle. “If she does might have to give’er a demonstration.”
Ponyboy aimed a sharp punch to his shoulder, but he was fighting a smile in the dim light. In a tone a little too familiar for Sherri’s comfort he teased, “You’re gettin’ mouthy.”
Dallas Winston lit up, face split on a grin so wide and genuine the cheerleader thought it made him look about five years younger, childish and amused. He bit back, “You like it.”
Dally tilted the boy’s chin up, a small, surprisingly gentle motion, and before Cherry even fully registered what was happening, he leaned down and kissed Pony right there in the doorway for anyone to see.
The Soc girl’s heart gave a painful lurch. Her first instinct was to turn away, to grant them privacy in this tender moment that was clearly not meant for her eyes, but she couldn’t. She watched, transfixed, as Ponyboy Curtis melted into Dallas Winston’s embrace. The young boy rose on his toes to meet the hood halfway, one hand clutching the front of his jacket for balance. His grey-green eyes fluttered closed and Dal cupped his face as if he were something precious and breakable. The kiss itself was gentle, just a press of lips that lingered, full of emotion instead of heat, but in that kiss Cherry saw affection and familiarity and all the things she’d used to see when she looked at Bob. It was a far cry from the cocky display Dallas had put on earlier. It was real and quiet and just for them. Cherry felt a lump form in her throat, a choking mix of shock and a strange warmth.
They broke apart, foreheads bumping. Ponyboy opened his eyes and the look he gave Dallas could have lit the entire block, all shy devotion and clear relief. Dally murmured something the cheerleader couldn’t make out, his lips still ghosting against Pony’s playfully. The kid smiled, a cute, impish grin that Cherry had never seen and she realized she was crying again. Not sobbing, but silent tears streaked her cheeks. It was beautiful in its own way and it hurt all the more to acknowledge that. She could never have gotten that from Dallas, hadn’t even ever really gotten it from Bob. That gentleness, that unguarded affection were things the hood had never offered her. They belonged to Ponyboy.
The eighteen year old slung an arm over the smaller teen, tucking him protectively against his side. Pony wrapped his own arm around Dallas’ waist and together they turned to go into the house, their backs to the street. The rising ache in her legs finally pulled Sherri’s full attention as she slumped down onto the asphalt, her back thumping Keith’s tire as Dallas and Pony slipped out of view. She huffed, winded like she’d just been a participant in the pony races, and took short, frigid gasps of autumn air and tried to just breathe . She’d had enough of this night, enough of emotional revelations to last a lifetime, and she still wasn’t sure where Marcia was. The distant chirp of crickets and muffled music were the only sounds until two pairs of footsteps approached from the side of the house.
“Cherry?” Marcia’s voice was soft, worried as she likely looked all across the yard and didn’t spot her friend. “Honey, where are you?”
The redhead rubbed at her eyes and tried to get herself upright, but her knees had gone pins-and-needles numb and her hands were too cold to brace herself properly against the ground. “Here,” she muttered hoarsely.
“Oh, babe.” Her best friend came hustling over and crouched to throw an arm around her. Her body was warm from the firepit and smoke clung to her hair. Cherry leaned into her. “You didn’t have to run off.”
“I didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of myself,” the sixteen year old admitted, trying to infuse some levity into her tone as she let Marcia help her up off the ground. Her legs felt like jelly and her heart like wet newspaper. “I would’ve waited in the car but it was locked.”
“Course it is,” Two-Bit announced, sauntering around the hood, keys swinging from his finger and brow quirked up thoughtfully. “It’s a rough neighborhood.
Marcia shot her boyfriend a baleful glance, small hands rubbing up and down Cherry’s goosefleshed arms as she nodded towards the backseat. “Well, we can definitely get going now, can’t we, hon?”
“As my lady commands,” the tall greaser rushed out, moving to unlock the door and yank it open so the two Soc girls could slide in. Despite everything, Cherry felt a small smirk tug at the corner of her mouth at the way her friend hurried things along with just a squint at her beau. Folded into the back of the car, Marcia practically draped around her, the redhead noticed Keith looking in at them, at her. “You okay?”
“Do I look not okay?” Cherry huffed, flashing back to the hallway at school, Ponyboy watching her warily from the corner of his gold flecked eyes.
Two-Bit shrugged, wide frame surprisingly agile even as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Nah, you look like shit, but I figured askin’ was polite.”
That shocked a laugh out of her which deepened into a more sincere giggle as Marcia started harping on about getting them out of there and there was a time and place for jokes, Keith, God! The red head slouched sideways, falling fully into her friend’s embrace and felt warmth spread through her as Marcia squeezed her automatically, not even seeming to notice as she just kept sniping at Keith as he hopped into the front seat. By the time the nineteen year old had started the car and angled them onto the street, crushing several empties under the tires along the way, the girls in the back had settled and Sherri’s eyes were fixed out the window, watching the streetlamps pass.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she warned, keeping her gaze outside even as she felt Marcia shift to look at her. There was a hand in her hair and it felt so, so nice.
“You don’t have to,” the other girl acknowledged, voice light, almost flippant. She paused for a beat, the car bumping over a pothole, and then added, “But I do have to say I told you so, just once.”
“Wow, babe-”
“Just once, I swear,” the brunette cut across their driver. Cherry giggled again and wondered if she was delirious with sadness or exhaustion or some quick second-hand high. Her eyes felt droopy.
“You were right,” she sighed into Marcia’s shoulder, the weight of the words floating off and away immediately and leaving her chest feeling gaping and wide. “I was wrong.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear.”
In the front seat Two-Bit flicked on the heater. The car sputtered a little before catching and filling with a warm hum. The silence between them was thick, but not suffocating. The heat made Sherri’s eyes feel even heavier and soon she was yawning, the greaser up front letting her know that wasn’t allowed in his car as Marcia mimicked her immediately after.
They probably hadn’t even gone three blocks before Marcia glanced down at her. “You wanna stay over tonight?”
Cherry shook her head. “No, I think I wanna be in my own bed.”
“I’ll stay with you then.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” the other girl said simply, settling further down into the seat, comfortable and content in a way that said she’d spent a lot of time back there.
“Guess I’ll just go stag to bed,” Keith bemoaned up front, greased hair flashing under every streetlight they passed. His posture was loose and easy, one hand on the wheel while the other slung across the back of the empty passenger seat beside him. He wasn’t smoking and Cherry wasn’t sure how much he’d had to drink but he seemed steady. “That was one hell of a party. I don’t think anybody’ll forget it anytime soon.”
Cherry didn’t respond, but let her chin dip in acknowledgment when Marcia’s fingers plucked at her hair testingly. Her co-captain murmured, “Sorry he shot you down, sweetie.”
“I didn’t even like him,” the redhead whispered back, “Not really.”
“Then what the hell was all that?” Two-Bit sounded exasperated and Marcia kicked the back of his seat, but Sherri only hummed thoughtfully. The words felt like cotton in her brain, damp and misshapen. She didn’t have the energy to explain that it had nothing to do with Dallas and everything to do with Bob. That she’d been trying to rewrite a story that had already ended. That she thought, maybe, if someone as hard and angry as Dallas Winston could want her, maybe she wasn’t as unlovable as she felt sometimes.
“I think I just miss Bob,” she admitted quietly, tears pricking her eyes again and a different type of embarrassment spilling out as she remembered the boozing and the yelling and the fighting and the sneers. And the kissing and the laughing and the hugging and the smiles. “I'm sad and I don't know what to do with that. I thought if I could just… have someone pick me…I dunno know, it’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb,” Marcia said fiercely. Two-Bit grumbled something that sounded like a disagreement and the brunette kicked his seat again. “It’s not dumb at all.”
They passed a park, the grass was brittle and brown and the swing sets empty. The whole city felt quieter at night, like the wind could hear things you didn’t even say. Sherri let herself cry, silent and slow, watching the streets she’d used to cruise with a handsome boy with glinting rings blur past her. She didn’t sob, didn’t need to, the tears just came on their own, steady as rain on a windshield.
“Ah, you’ll be alright,” Keith said after a while, his bright voice jarring in the silence. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.”
Marcia nodded her agreement though Cherry could see the way her shoe hovered a few inches off the footwell, ready to kick again if the greaser’s words went from kind to kidding. Sherri loved her so much in that moment it was startling.
They drove on, the unfamiliar grit of the South side blurring past the windows—cracked sidewalks, busted streetlamps, chainlink fences sagging at the corners. Old cars sat crooked in driveways and bikes rusted in yards. Dogs barked behind slatted wood gates and the porch lights that were on flickered uncertainly in the dark. Block by block though, things began to change. The streets widened, the potholes smoothed, and fences turned from rusted metal to white washed wood. The houses grew taller, cleaner, quieter and gas stations gave way to grocery stores. Even in the dark, the difference was impossible to miss and Cherry felt the last bit of her tension ease with it.
She was home,
They turned onto the Valance’s street and the car tires whispered across smooth blacktop and sprinklers ticked faintly in the distance. The redhead finally straightened up out of her friend’s arms just as they pulled up in front of her house, large and shadowed under a neat oak tree, porch light glowing softly, curtains drawn tight. She made no move to get out and Keith put the car in park but left the engine running.
“Last stop,” the greaser declared like a train conductor, shooting his brow up again as he looked over his shoulder into the backseat. “Get out here unless you’re tryn’a have breakfast with me tomorrow.”
“I think I’ve had enough boys for one night,” Sherri muttered, fumbling around to grab her cheer bag, napkins and beer cans and empty cigarette boxes trying to hide it from her.
“I’d love breakfast, handsome,” Marcia assured, leaning into the front seat so she and Two-Bit were nose to nose. Their eyes dazzled and danced at each other. “But it’s just us girls tonight.”
“Damn,” the older teen bitched sarcastically, smile still wide over his mouth as the brunette leaned in to give him a goodnight-thank you-see you soon-miss you already kiss. Cherry looked away.
She shuffled awkwardly out of the car, the cold night air catching her dress as she got out and shivered. Marcia followed quickly behind, waving to their chauffeur flirtatiously before slamming the backseat door. As he drove off, the car radio cranking on immediately to ear splitting levels, the brunette hooked an arm through Cherry’s and led her up the walk. The porch light was still on, her father’s car was gone, and her mother’s light was off in the upstairs window.
“You gonna be okay?” her friend asked, whispering in the shadows like the weeds were listening..
“Yeah.” Cherry nodded, feeling semi-sure as they approached her front door.
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow,” the other girl quoted, playfully wobbling them back and forth, her shoulder bumping the redhead’s as they walked. Sherri smiled.
“But eventually.”