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Chapter 8
Tuff Cars
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Two-bit is 21 in the book, so he's about 16 in this story. Curly may not exactly be old enough, but oh well. As usual, the only character(s) I own are Jeremy and Glenn. I'm not S.E. Hinton.... Um... Don't sue me. Thats all I have to say. You wouldn't want to sue me, anyway. You'd get about twenty dollars, cuz I am poor. You could sue my parents... but please don't.
Dally lay there, waiting for Darry to fall asleep, and praying the Curtis's were light sleepers. He didn't know whether Darry would care if he snuck out in the middle of the night, but he really didn't want to find out, either.
By the time Darry's breathing was deep and regular enough to convince Dally that he was asleep, Dally was almost asleep himself. Yawning, he sat up- quietly- and tiptoed down the hall.
He was trying to remember where there were thing that he could trip over in the pitch black, when he found out where t least one of them was. He fell on his hands and knees with an almost silent curse and the clatter of several things falling off whatever he'd run into.
He got to his feet, expecting someone to wake up, and ask what in the hell he was doing out of bed at 2:00 in the morning and why didn't he just turn on a light, whatever it was- but, amazingly enough, no one did. He breathed out the breath he'd been holding and managed to make it to the door without tripping and killing himself again.
That was the hard part, he told himself, stepping out into the street. The streetlights (at least, the ones not broken out) helped him not to trip or run into, or step on anything. He didn't have far to go- they were meeting in the lot next to the Curtis house.
Tim and an unfamiliar Greaser who looked about Pony's age where sitting on the roof of an abandoned
car, smoking.
"Hey, Dally!" yelled Tim when he came into sight. Dally got to the car and climbed onto the hood. Tim tossed him a cigarette and a lighter. "This is Curly. He's my brother. He wanted to come along." Dally grinned. Sounded a lot like him 4 years or so before, when he was Curly's age.
"Two-Bit and Glenn should be getting here sometime soon. Glenn is never early, though, and Two-Bit is always late." As he spoke, Glenn appeared at the far side of the lot. He sauntered over and sprawled out next to Dally on the hood of the car.
"Two-bit not here yet?" He asked, looking up at Tim.
"Nope." Tim tried, unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring. Glenn blew a perfect one and earned himself a glare from Tim and a challenge to see who really was better at smoke rings. Eventually Curly and Dally joined in. They made smoke rings for the next half hour until Two-bit finally came.
The look on his face kept anyone from asking why he was late. He didn't volunteer any information- he forced a smile, but by the time they had gone a block, it was a grin. Two-bit couldn't stay upset for long about anything.
It took them fifteen minutes to get to the nicer houses- and the nicer cars. Dally was beginning to get slightly nervous, but another part of him- the bigger part- was having fun. "How do we know which cars to wreck?" he asked.
"Jeremy Thompson." Tim said, nodding toward a house on the left side of the street. "That's his car right there. He's a big time Soc."
"Man, these are tuff cars," said Two-bit from behind them. Glenn nodded in agreement.
"Almost makes yah not wanna trash em," said Two-bit.
"Almost." Glenn grinned. "But as long as I remember who owns em, I'm gonna enjoy this."
Jeremy Thompson's Mustang was the first car they came to. Tim got out his switchblade. The way he was grinning almost made Dally scared of him. But he'd met plenty of people like that back in New York. For Tim, the car was a replacement for a real Soc.
Dally reached in his pocket and got out his switchblade. He slashed at the tires with he switchblade, watching Two-bit and Glenn and Curly break the windows with a stick they'd found lying nearby. Meanwhile, Tim was inside, ripping, cutting, slashing the leather seats.
For the first time, it occurred to Dally how much noise they where making. He glanced nervously at the street, but the houses lay still and dark. He turned back to the final tire, and stuck the switchblade in and pulled it back.
"Done," he said.
Tim hopped out of the now wrecked car, and Two-bit, Curly and Glenn dropped the sticks. "We're going to Paul's now." he told them.
They'd gotten through four cars and were working on their fifth when a light clicked on in a house down the street. Dally froze. Tim ran. Dally followed with the other three. They ran past the Soc's houses and over the train tracks. By the time they'd gotten back to the lot, Tim and Dally where the only one who weren't out of breath.
Tim grinned. "That went well."
"Idiot," puffed Glenn. "I'm about to die."
"Don't smoke so much," suggested Two-bit, but he was breathing hard, too.
"Oh, shit!" Dally exclaimed. He'd just noticed the sky. It was almost 5:00 and starting to get light out. He ran for the Curtis house, hoping none of the Curtis's were early risers.
Chapter 8
Tuff Cars
--------------
Two-bit is 21 in the book, so he's about 16 in this story. Curly may not exactly be old enough, but oh well. As usual, the only character(s) I own are Jeremy and Glenn. I'm not S.E. Hinton.... Um... Don't sue me. Thats all I have to say. You wouldn't want to sue me, anyway. You'd get about twenty dollars, cuz I am poor. You could sue my parents... but please don't.
Dally lay there, waiting for Darry to fall asleep, and praying the Curtis's were light sleepers. He didn't know whether Darry would care if he snuck out in the middle of the night, but he really didn't want to find out, either.
By the time Darry's breathing was deep and regular enough to convince Dally that he was asleep, Dally was almost asleep himself. Yawning, he sat up- quietly- and tiptoed down the hall.
He was trying to remember where there were thing that he could trip over in the pitch black, when he found out where t least one of them was. He fell on his hands and knees with an almost silent curse and the clatter of several things falling off whatever he'd run into.
He got to his feet, expecting someone to wake up, and ask what in the hell he was doing out of bed at 2:00 in the morning and why didn't he just turn on a light, whatever it was- but, amazingly enough, no one did. He breathed out the breath he'd been holding and managed to make it to the door without tripping and killing himself again.
That was the hard part, he told himself, stepping out into the street. The streetlights (at least, the ones not broken out) helped him not to trip or run into, or step on anything. He didn't have far to go- they were meeting in the lot next to the Curtis house.
Tim and an unfamiliar Greaser who looked about Pony's age where sitting on the roof of an abandoned
car, smoking.
"Hey, Dally!" yelled Tim when he came into sight. Dally got to the car and climbed onto the hood. Tim tossed him a cigarette and a lighter. "This is Curly. He's my brother. He wanted to come along." Dally grinned. Sounded a lot like him 4 years or so before, when he was Curly's age.
"Two-Bit and Glenn should be getting here sometime soon. Glenn is never early, though, and Two-Bit is always late." As he spoke, Glenn appeared at the far side of the lot. He sauntered over and sprawled out next to Dally on the hood of the car.
"Two-bit not here yet?" He asked, looking up at Tim.
"Nope." Tim tried, unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring. Glenn blew a perfect one and earned himself a glare from Tim and a challenge to see who really was better at smoke rings. Eventually Curly and Dally joined in. They made smoke rings for the next half hour until Two-bit finally came.
The look on his face kept anyone from asking why he was late. He didn't volunteer any information- he forced a smile, but by the time they had gone a block, it was a grin. Two-bit couldn't stay upset for long about anything.
It took them fifteen minutes to get to the nicer houses- and the nicer cars. Dally was beginning to get slightly nervous, but another part of him- the bigger part- was having fun. "How do we know which cars to wreck?" he asked.
"Jeremy Thompson." Tim said, nodding toward a house on the left side of the street. "That's his car right there. He's a big time Soc."
"Man, these are tuff cars," said Two-bit from behind them. Glenn nodded in agreement.
"Almost makes yah not wanna trash em," said Two-bit.
"Almost." Glenn grinned. "But as long as I remember who owns em, I'm gonna enjoy this."
Jeremy Thompson's Mustang was the first car they came to. Tim got out his switchblade. The way he was grinning almost made Dally scared of him. But he'd met plenty of people like that back in New York. For Tim, the car was a replacement for a real Soc.
Dally reached in his pocket and got out his switchblade. He slashed at the tires with he switchblade, watching Two-bit and Glenn and Curly break the windows with a stick they'd found lying nearby. Meanwhile, Tim was inside, ripping, cutting, slashing the leather seats.
For the first time, it occurred to Dally how much noise they where making. He glanced nervously at the street, but the houses lay still and dark. He turned back to the final tire, and stuck the switchblade in and pulled it back.
"Done," he said.
Tim hopped out of the now wrecked car, and Two-bit, Curly and Glenn dropped the sticks. "We're going to Paul's now." he told them.
They'd gotten through four cars and were working on their fifth when a light clicked on in a house down the street. Dally froze. Tim ran. Dally followed with the other three. They ran past the Soc's houses and over the train tracks. By the time they'd gotten back to the lot, Tim and Dally where the only one who weren't out of breath.
Tim grinned. "That went well."
"Idiot," puffed Glenn. "I'm about to die."
"Don't smoke so much," suggested Two-bit, but he was breathing hard, too.
"Oh, shit!" Dally exclaimed. He'd just noticed the sky. It was almost 5:00 and starting to get light out. He ran for the Curtis house, hoping none of the Curtis's were early risers.