ask-the-curtis-gang

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a pretty little birdy (buck) told me that a certain dallas winston works at the rodeo?

pretty lil birdie my ASS. but yeah. what bout it? I run the horses for him on race weekends n bull ride durin the rodeo- (whattabout the rodeo! OH just dal) (ok well. sorry my shit isn't excitin for you soda) (aw hush I just thought they were talkin about one comin into town or somethin) (Dar wouldn't want you within a hundred feet of one) (since when have you cared what Darry wants us to do huh?) (... good point.)

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if you were a dog, what breed do all of you think you would be? if you know breeds much, that is

uhhhh huh. dunno. hm. I think I'd be one of the racin dogs. like OH a greyhound. soda would be a terrier for SURE. (would NOT I'd be one of them dogs they put out in the fields like uhhh.) (cattle dogs?) (YEAH) (Soda. Love you buddy. No you would not.) (yeah those are more like Dar.) (:( yall are no fun:( )

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Tim, Dally- y’all still hang out with Sylvia? Heard you three were real close back in middle school and freshman year high school.

Sylvie? aw hell, yeah she comes round sometimes. I mean we ain't as close as we used to be yknow. but shes one tuff chick. (do I? fuck no. she cheated on me that sonofabitch) (uh huh. didnt yall get drinks last week down at Buck’s.) (HEY. I was there. she was there. she owed me a drink at least.) (uh huh.) (look. shes a bitch. but. yknow. shes a friend.) (wow dal. I dunno why she cheated on you. youre such a charmer.) (shut UP-)

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Tim!!! Dally!!! Angela!!! Curly is over at the Curtis house!!

'Curly's fuckin where?' Tim jolts passed his sister, the sleep thrown from his raspin voice. He pressed against the window but there's nothin to be seen outside. 'Angie where the fuck is he?'

Tears well fast in her dark eyes n Tim bites down on his lip. Hard. Iron stains his teeth. Jesus christ. 'He went out after... that Sallow girl.' Her voice is wobbly but bitin. Jesus christ. She was scared.

Tim doesn't ask anythin else. He grabs his jacket n shoes in one sharp move. When he turns to tell Dallas he's already dressed, fists tight n white knuckled. There's a steely, determined look in his eye that says he won't be swayed. So Tim doesn't bother. 'Angie go downstairs n lock the door. Don't come out til the storm blows over. Do not come after us, y'hear?'

'But-'

'But nothin. I ain't gonna lose both my kid siblin's in one goddamn night.' The implications ain't lost on her. She blinks once, long n slow, n throws herself into Tim's arms. His fingers dig into her hair as he pulls her close. 'Go.'

N then the basement door is swingin closed n Dallas n Tim vanish out into the night. Again.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Yo, asking our lovely creator.

ARE YOU OKAY????

ooc- I am!!! I will probably be refocusin on this blog this comin week cause I have some plots brewin but I've been busy as SHIT lately n this blog takes a shit ton a brain power. swear to GOD I ain't forgotten yall I'll be back!!

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Um Dally, Tim? Did Angela catch yall up?

Tim rockets to his feet. The single storm warnin that worked in the neighborhood finally blarin to life. Dallas, pressed somewhere against his body in the dark, groans, jarred from his place.

He moves on instinct. Snatchin up his wallet with bleary, half-conscious movements. Dallas rolls over n let's out another low moan of disapproval. Tim just sighs, rippin the blankets from him in one sharp movement.

'Cmon, Winston. There's a storm man. We gotta go.' His voice is cloudy with sleep n he coughs once to clear the burn in his throat. Dally is suddenly standin, the threat of a storm enough to wake his northern ass like ice water. He's the first to throw the bedroom door open n scuttle out into the livin room.

Angela already hovers nearby, an ashen, fearful look she doesn't usually wear from a twister alone maskin her features. A knot forms in Tim's stomach. 'Angie? Cmon where's Curls? We gotta go.'

Angie pales, lifts one shakin hand n points outwards. Into the storm.

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Jack just sorta stared at them for a moment, arms crossed n a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

“So.. what? I just stay here with y’all till the storm passes?”

Hell at this point he’ll be lucky to even make it to sunrise alive- he’s jumped like 3 out of the 7 greasers here.

'Take your pick.' Pony glares daggers at Jack as he surveys the group. Eyes jumpin between each member and the door. Johnny bristle, finally sinks back to his knees on Pony's other side. Darry runs one last hand through his kid brothers hair n leans to start the record player up. Somethin to break the silence n the howlin wind. 'Us or the storm.'

Elvis. Greaser music.

Pony shuffles around a small pile of notes collected before the storm had hit, though Darry had chastised him for wastin time they'd sure kill it now that they were stuck.

The group shifts n sighs. Relaxes again back into itself now that the excitement has mostly passed. Wary eyes from above faces lowered to shoulders n elbows pressed to knees.

There's only one sympathetic gaze. Curly watches silently. N there's somethin there that brings Jack to his decision.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Angela my pookie.. wake up your brother and Dally

Fuck. Curlys really been gone. A long ass time. Jesus Christ. Dya think I should? Fuck fuck fuck. I shouldn’t have let him go out there after that stupid fuckin soc. Shit. Fuck.

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“Wait? Wait? I can’t do that- my sister- Lolly- she’s out there I can’t leave her.”

he can’t leave her. Not when he’s already discounted her, not when he’s sure it’d destroy his family if she got hurt, not when she was the glue of the entire Sallow family. He needed to help her now- he didn’t care if he ended up like Julian. God, he wished Julian was here, at least Julian can be civil. At least Julian can control his temper.

Darry sighs n stands stiffly to his feet, collectin blankets n nudgin Johnny off he feet beside Pony. He wraps the three of them, towelin Curly's sopin hair, n he must really be out of it cause he doesn't fight against the scrap of affection like a wet cat.

'What. You not from around here or somethin?' Steve fiddles with a knife he's produced from no where. Jack's eyes follow it anxiously. Though he's too detached to care, glancin toward the firmly locked shelter doors.

'What?'

'If you go out there, you're gonna end up dead, man. Your, sister, was it? You ain't gonna be any good to her out there.' Soda quickly takes up the place Darry vacated, soothingly runnin a hand through Pony's hair.

'For better or worse. You go out after her? You're gonna end up dead.'

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Stop crying Sallow. Jack got up and wiped his eyes- if Lolly were here she’d apologize till sunrise. But he ain’t Lolly so all he does his crumble up the note in his hand. ‘Course he knows where she is. She’s where him n Julian find greasers to jump-

“they’re at the parking lot of the drive-in, closest to the screen.”

he mumbled cuz he was pretty sure if he raised his voice too loud one of them would flinch n the others would start hittin.

Darry watches with wary eyes. Pony's shoulders shake minutely under his arms n Curly, whether he's aware of it or not, leans heavily against him.

Johnny clenches his fists, unclenches them. Darry can feel the restless anger peelin off him in waves. Soda, Steve, n Two huddle behind him, shiftin in n out of his peripheral.

'Well.' Johnny startles slightly at the sound of his voice. 'Until this storm blows over ain't nobody goin nowhere. So until then, we better settle in.'

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tears prick at his eyes. Oh god- mom, don’t let mom find out god- he ain’t sure if he’s saying it out loud or thinking it or whatever. All he can hear is Lolly screaming. N he’s shaking again, with rage n fear n all the things he feels that usually mean he’s gonna end up jumping some east side punk. But he isn’t, he’s gonna sit here n shake as he grips the sticky note in his hands with the knowledge that he did that. That this is his fault, and apparently the Sallow’s luck has ran out cuz Lolly was never supposed to get hurt n Jack was never supposed to feel guilty. and boy- mom was gonna cry and cry and cry and fall “asleep” with a bottle of wine next to her just like she does when she and Father fight- and-

“M sorry-“

and all he wants to do is run and go find Lolly.

Pony makes a low, garbled sound in his throat as Jack sinks to the floor. Some absent-minded recoilin back, into Curly's chest. 'What happened, Curly? What's goin on?'

Johnny turns, twists to look at them over his shoulder. Darry threads the lock back through the storm door handles n comes around to gather his younger brother in his arms, n when he clutches Curly closer he sighs n collects them both up.

Johnny doesn't move an inch, a swirl of misplaced emotions movin in waves across this face. Jack doesn't notice. Lost in his own mind.

'Johnny.' Darry finally interrupts the stand off. Johnny's eyes borin dark holes into Jack's shakin hands. He blinks hard, shakes his head, steps back behind Darry so there's a clear line here.

Greasers n you.

'Curly. What happened?' Pony pushes himself away from both his brother n Curly. 'Will someone tell me what the hell is goin on?' His voice is risin now, fear makin him short.

'It's his sister out there, Pony. The... Brumley Boys.' His eyes stay trained on Jack even as he speaks brokenly, hurriedly to Pony in low, murmurin tones.

Jack fuckin sobs. N oh. Well. None of them were prepared for that. But if that catches them off guard, the next words that fall from his mouth are the shock of their lives.

''M sorry.' N then his shoulders are shakin n tears are drippin down his face n mixin with the rain water n his arms are tight around himself n he just looks so... young.

'Jack.' Curly struggles to his feet, sways once. 'What did they mean you should know where she is?'

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

despite the storm raging both outside and in, the mailbox still stands. An oblivious note inside, another cheap sticky note. Reading,

“we have the girl, if her asshole brother pays us what he owes. She’ll come back alive. If he doesn’t, that bow in her hair won’t be the only thing you’ll get back in pieces. Time’s runnin’ out Jack.

You’ll know where to find us, you have a habit of beating on little kids there. :)”

Fuck. He knows, Jack /knows/ exactly where Lolly is. Though he’s oblivious to the scream echoing from outside, lost to the wind.

Curly rips the note off the cement, nails tearin minutly along the edges. He curses. Those fuckin Brumley Boys were gonna fuck this up worse for all of them.

'Give that to me!' Jack leans around Johnny, tries to snatch the paper away from Curly. Johnny snaps between them before he can get closer, hand dartin to the switch in his back pocket. Before Jack can respond, two, Steve, n Soda are on their feet. Fists clenched, eyes hard.

Jack wavers. Freezes. Opens n closes his mouth. But it's Curly who speaks.

'It's for him, Johnny. It's about his sister.' N no amount of hidin it makes the look of fear on his face not utterly n completely unmistakable.

Curly holds the note out to him n Jack moves slow, like tryin not to disturb a pack of hungry dogs. He takes the paper, readin it desperately.

'Oh God. Lolly.'

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“Oh.”

Y’see, usually when him n Julian jump some kids cuz Jack got pissed off at something or other- they never see em again. Lately, it seems, karma isn’t gonna let that happen. Here he is, with three of the greasers he’s jumped n also their friends and family. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he’d end up like Julian. in a hospital bed. with permanently damaged vocal cords. he don’t usually feel sympathy after he hurts a couple of greasers, but that Curly kid has basically saved his life n that has to be worth something. Still, he don’t apologize or say anything. He crossed his arms and stared at Johnny Cade- yet another greaser who he’s hurt.

There's a flutterin heartbeat of recognition across Jack's face. It ain't apology by any means. Just a jolt of somethin sickenin'ly close to fear. Johnny doesn't move, matches him glare for glare, fists still clenched, fingertips bloody.

Pony rears back from Curly, lookin between them with narrowed searchin' eyes. Curly slumps forward into Pony's chest so the only thing that can be seen of him are his pupils, watchin the stand off with piqued interest.

When the silence is finally broken, it's Johnny who speaks. 'I'll take that as a yes.' He stalks forwards, placin himself slowly, incremently between Pony n Jack. 'So you're the one that jumped Pony huh? Still runnin round jumpin kids cause you're too scared to beat on someone your own size?'

His voice is low. Dangerously low. But it's like everyone in that celler had fallen silent to let him be heard. Even the storm outside holds its breath. Cause Johnny Cade didn't talk to nobody like that. Ever.

'It was you?' Jack's mouth snaps open. Whether to answer or not he's cut short by the storm doors buckin open with renewed vigor.

N a note. Rainsoaked n wind torn flutters down the steps n plasters to the floor. Right at Jack's feet. In a handwritin Curly recognizes in an instant .

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”I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Jack scowled. He was practically seeing red- he was shakin n it wasn’t from the cold. He wanted to punch something— someone, anything. He wanted to scream and kick and yell and go out that stupid door and run away from the stupid east side all the way to his stupid house and for-. And for Lolly to be there alright and smiling and asking him to help her practice ballet. He wanted to cry.

He vaguely felt himself fall to the floor, his head in his hands cuz boys ain’t supposed to cry n he was acting irrationally. Breathe, Jack, breathe.

“I’m gonna kill them..”

he said again, this time with a shaky voice.

Darry swings the storm doors shut over them with a clang that rings through the celler. For a long moment, not a soul moves. Soda opens bleary eyes, struggles to sit. Steve curls tighter around him, watchin on with distrustin eyes. Two flicks his switchblade around again, the tricks absent-minded as he tilts his head, studies the rain-soaked boys. Pony freezes, mouth open, a rush of emotions swirls across his face. Relief n fear.

Johnny is sickly pale. All the color drained from his dark skin. He stares at Jack with wide eyes, hands clenched so hard into fists they leave bloody half moons across his palms.

Curly is on his feet first, head snappin up to take in the figures in the gloom. When his eyes land on Pony, the relief is a shudderin wave that nearly drives him straight back down to his knees. Pony is across the room before anyone can stop him, arms tight around Curlys neck n the shaky exhaustion is hittin Curly again so they sink straight down to the floor.

Jack doesn't see any of it. Starin shakily down at the cement, both hands pressed to the cold on his knees, rain water drippin steadily from his hair. Darry looks to Curly, flicks his eyes over to Jack, a silent question. Curly rests his head down on Pony, utterly limp against him, blinks long n slow like is an effort to stay upright at all.

'Darry. I think yalls introduction is long overdue-' Curly winces. Every old wound reignited now that he's still. Darry stares down at the gaspin boy again, back to Curly. 'Meet-'

'Jack Sallow.' Johnny's voice is low n dangerous. Jack's head snaps up, eyes unfocused n clouded. He squints into the dark at the far end where Johnny stands. He takes on step forward, into the pool of light made by the singular lap on the floor. He's shakin. But it ain't the scared kind. 'You remember me?'

N by the look on Jacks face? It's a yes.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

hey pony i think curlys gonna get hypothermia outside in this storm :p

Pony shuffles the papers around, anxiously pullin out the first one he finds with Curly's name on it. He visibly tenses n Johnny scoots closer so their hips are touchin, slingin a gentle arm around his shoulder. A small amount of the tension drops out of his spine but it comes right back as the storm howls insistently outside.

'It's alright, Pone. You gotta try to relax. You're gonna make yourself sick or somethin man.' Johnny gently pulls the note from Pony's hand n Pony lets him with a sigh.

'I'm just worried s'all.' He reaches up absently to fucked with the edge of Johnny's vest, a self soother, n Johnny let's him.

'He'll be fine. He's a Shepard. I'm pretty sure those fuckers are indestructible.' Pony lets out a lil half laugh n sighs. 'Just try to take a nap or somethin-'

There's a bangin. Loud n insistent on the storm door. Everyone freezes. Pony goes ramrod straight in Johnnys arms in alarm.

Darry is on his feet in an instant. He looks over the room again, everyone except Dallas. His eyes flick to the door. It could be anyone. But Darry's a better man than any of em. He won't leave anyone out in this.

Pony takes half a step towards the door n Darry jabs a finger warnin'ly to stay put. Pony scowls but reluctantly remains where he's standin. Darry nods, crosses to the doors, n with a last glance to make sure no one's standin nearby, heats them open against the storm.

Two boys tumble headfirst into the shelter n practically into Darry Curtis' arms. One of them is Curly Shepard. The other is a boy only two of them recognize. N it ain't a warm welcome.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Jack was gonna kill ‘em. Every single last Brumley boy, as soon as the storm ended, was gonna get beat up to hell. He doesn’t care that he’ll probably have to do it alone- most Socs aren’t stupid enough as him to go after real hoods like them and Julian’s still in the hospital, but hell he’s never held back when it comes to protecting his sister. Y’can ask the stupid 4th grader who’s arm Jack broke when he was 12 cuz they pulled Lolly’s braid.

Jack was shakin, n cold- but the simmering rage kept him warm. Those stupid hoods better pray this storm never ends—

wait is this the Curtis house- god help him

Curlys dragging him, full force haulin him through the darkness. Jack is don't say anythin. Not a goddamn word. His stare is blank n vacant. Neither of them say anythin.

They run. Duckin into alleyways n under broken fences Curly knows like the back of his hand. He ducks through the kicked down boards of a post , twistin to make sure Jack is still followin. The eyes that meet him blaze. Curly flinches before he thinks.

But the anger ain't directed at him. N when he stops to think, his hand twitches thoughtlessly around Lollys ribbon. N he finds he's angry too.

'Cmon.' He jerks his head n Jack shakes his hair from his face, refocusin on Curly. They slip through n it's only a half a block further before they're there. The Curtis'. He takes a runnin start n hops the gate Darry never fixed, slippin around the side of the house towards the celler doors. When he turns, Jack ain't there. Instead, hoverin uncertainly on the other side of the fence.

Curly points, harsh jerkin movements cause the storm is roarin so loud in his ears he can't hear nothin else. Jack shakes his head once. 'I have to-'

'Have to what? Die out here? You think Lolly wants that? You can't fuckin find her if you're dead Sallow!' Jack flinches back. Sways on hesitant feet. Curlys bout to decide he can lead the fuckin horse to water but he can't make the goddamn thing drink when Jack takes three small steps back n runs for the gate, hoppin it followin the example Curly had laid.

Curly sighs, somethin burnin relief down his throat, turns, n bangs open palmed on the celler doors. Jesus. Now they can only pray they can even be heard above the storm.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Does anyone know where Johnny is?

I'm here! I stayed at two's a couple nights ago n we were dickin around watchin the storm start up on Darrys porch but when Darry said it was time to get into the storm shelter hell we do NOT play man