chapter 10i walked down the hall in a daze. dally had taken the car and i started thelong walk home in a stupor. johnny was dead. but he wasn't. that still body back in thehospital wasn't johnny.
dance hall of the dead chapter summaries, johnny was somewhere else--- maybe asleepin the lot, or playing the pinball machine in the bowling alley,or sitting on the back steps of the church inwindrixville. i'd go home and walk by the lot, and johnnywould be sitting on the curb
smoking a cigarette, and maybe we'd lie onour backs and watch the stars. he isn't dead, isaid to myself. he isn't dead. and this time my dreaming worked. i convinced myself thathe wasn't dead. i must have wandered around for hours; sometimeseven out into the street, getting honked at and cussed out. i might have stumbled around all night exceptfor a man who asked me if i wanted a ride.
"huh? oh. yeah, i guess so," i said. i got in. the man, who was in his mid-twenties,looked at me. "are you all right, kid? you look like you've been in a fight." "i have been. a rumble.
i'm okay." johnny is not dead, i told myself, and ibelieved it. "hate to tell you this, kiddo," the guy saiddryly, "but you're bleedin' all over my car seats." i blinked. "i am?" "your head." i reached up to scratch the side of my headwhere it'd been itching for a while, and when i looked at my hand it was smearedwith blood.
"gosh, mister, i'm sorry," i said, dumbfounded. "don't worry about it. this wreck's been through worse. what's your address? i'mnot about to dump a hurt kid out on the streets this time of night." i told him. he drove me to my house, and i got out. "thanks a lot."
what was left of our gang was in the livingroom. steve was stretched out on thesofa, his shirt unbuttoned and his side bandaged. his eyes were closed, but when the doorshut behind me he opened them, and i suddenly wondered if my own eyes looked asfeverish and bewildered as his. soda had a wide cut on his lip and a bruiseacross his cheek. there was a band-aid over darry's foreheadand he had a black eye. one side oftwo-bits face was taped up--- i found out later he had four stitches in his cheek andseven in his hand where he had busted his
knuckles open over a soc's head. they werelounging around, reading the paper and smoking. where's the party? i thought dully. weren't soda and steve planning a party afterthe rumble? they all looked up when i walked in. dairy leaped to his feet. "where have you been?" oh, let's don't start that again, i thought.
he stopped suddenly. "ponyboy, what's the matter?" i looked at all of them, a little frightened. "johnny... he's dead." my voice soundedstrange, even to me. but he's not dead, a voice in my head said. "we told him aboutbeatin' the socs and... i don't know, he just died." he told me to stay gold, i remembered.
what was he talking about? there was a stricken silence. i don't think any of us had realized how badoff johnny really had been. soda made a funny noise and looked like hewas going to start crying. two-bit's eyes were closed and his teeth wereclenched, and i suddenly remembered dally.... dally pounding on the wall.
"dallas is gone," i said. "he ran out like the devil was after him. he's gonna blowup. he couldn't take it." how can i take it? i wondered. dally is tougher than i am. why can i take it whendally can't? and then i knew.
johnny was the only thing dally loved. and now johnnywas gone. "so he finally broke." two-bit spoke everyone's feelings. "so even dally has abreaking point." i started shaking. darry said something in a low voice to soda. "ponyboy," soda said softly, like he was talkingto an injured animal, "you look sick.
sit down." i backed up, just like a frightened animal,shaking my head. "i'm okay." i felt sick. i felt as if any minute i was going to fallflat on my face, but i shook my head. "i don'twant to sit down." darry took a step toward me, but i backedaway. "don't touch me," i said. myheart was pounding in slow thumps, throbbing
at the side of my head, and i wondered ifeveryone else could hear it. maybe that's why they're all looking at me,i thought, they can hear my heart beating... the phone rang, and after a moment's hesitation,darry turned from me to it. hesaid "hello" and then listened. he hung up quickly. "it was dally. he phoned from a booth. he's, just robbed a grocery store and thecops are after him.
we gotta hide him. he'll be at the lot in a minute." we all left the house at a dead run, evensteve, and i wondered vaguely why no one was doing somersaults off the steps thistime. things were sliding in and out offocus, and it seemed funny to me that i couldn't run in a straight line. we reached the vacant lot just as dally camein, running as hard as he could, from the opposite direction. the wail of a siren grew louder and then policecar
pulled up across the street from the lot. doors slammed as the policemen leaped out. dally had reached the circle of light underthe street lamp, and skidding to a halt, he turned and jerked a black object from hiswaistband. i remembered his voice: i beencarryin' a heater. it ain't loaded, but it sure does held a bluff. it was only yesterday that dally had toldjohnny and me that. but yesterday wasyears ago. a lifetime ago.
dally raised the gun, and i thought: you blastedfool. they don't know you'reonly bluffing. and even as the policemen's guns spit fireinto the night i knew that was what dally wanted. he was jerked half around by the impact ofthe bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on hisface. he was dead before he hit the ground. but i knew that was what he wanted, even asthe lot echoed with the cracks of shots, even as i begged silently--- please, not him...
not him and johnny both ---i knew he wouldbe dead, because dally winston wanted to be deadand he always got what he wanted. nobody would write editorials praising dally. two friends of mine had died thatnight: one a hero, the other a hoodlum. but i remembered dally pulling johnny throughthe window of the burning church; dally giving us his gun, although it could mean jailfor him; dally risking his life for us, trying to keep johnny out of trouble. and now hewas a dead juvenile delinquent and there wouldn't be any editorials in his favor.
dallydidn't die a hero. he died violent and young and desperate, justlike we all knew he'd die someday. just like tim shepard and curly shepard andthe brumly boys and the other guys we knew would die someday. but johnny was right. he died gallant. steve stumbled forward with a sob, but sodacaught him by the shoulders. "easy, buddy, easy," i heard him say softly,"there's nothing we can do now."
nothing we can do... not for dally or johnnyor tim shepard or any of us... mystomach gave a violent start and turned into a hunk of ice. the world was spinningaround me, and blobs of faces and visions of things past were dancing in the red mistthat covered the lot. it swirled into a mass of colors and i feltmyself swaying on my feet. someone cried, "glory, look at the kid!" and the ground rushed up to meet me very suddenly.
when i woke up it was light. it was awfully quiet. too quiet. i mean, ourhouse just isn't naturally quiet. the radio's usually going full blast and thetv is turned up loud and people are wrestling and knockingover lamps and tripping over the coffee table and yelling at each other. something was wrong, but i couldn't quitefigure it out. something had happened...
i couldn't remember what. i blinked at soda bewilderedly. hewas sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. "soda..."--- my voice sounded weak and hoarse---"is somebody sick?" "yeah." his voice was oddly gentle "go back to sleepnow." an idea was slowly dawning on me. "am i sick?"
he stroked my hair. "yeah, you're sick. now be quiet." i had one more question. i was still kind of mixed up. "is darry sorry i'm sick?" ihad a funny feeling that darry was sad because i was sick. everything seemed vague andhazy.
soda gave me a funny look. he was quiet for a moment. "yeah, he's sorry you'resick. now please shut up, will ya, honey? go back to sleep." i closed my eyes. i was awful tired. when i woke up next, it was daylight and iwas hot under all the blankets on me.
i was thirsty and hungry, but my stomach wasso uneasy i knew i wouldn't be able to hold anything down. darry had pulled the armchair into the bedroomand was asleep in it. he should be at work, i thought. why is he asleep in the armchair? "hey, darry," i said softly, shaking his knee. "hey, darry, wake up." he opened his eyes.
"ponyboy, you okay?" "yeah," i said, "i think so." something had happened... but i still couldn'tremember it, although i was thinking a lot clearer than i was the lasttime i'd waked up. he sighed in relief and pushed my hair back. "gosh, kid, you had us scared todeath." "what was the matter with me?" he shook his head. "i told you you were in no condition for arumble.
exhaustion,shock, minor concussion--- and two-bit came blubberin' over here with some tale abouthow you were running a fever before the rumble and how it was all his fault you weresick. he was pretty torn up that night," darry said. he was quiet for a minute. "we allwere." and then i remembered. dallas and johnny were dead. don't think of them, i thought.
(don't remember how johnny was your buddy,don't remember that he didn't want to die. don't think of dally breaking up in the hospital,crumpling under the street light. try to think that johnny is better off now,try to remember that dally would have ended up like that sooner or later. best of all, don't think. blank your mind. don'tremember.
don't remember.) "where'd i get a concussion?" i said. my head itched, but i couldn't scratch itfor the bandage. "how long have i been asleep?" "you got a concussion from getting kickedin the head--- soda saw it. he landedall over that soc. i've never seen him so mad.
i think he could have whipped anyone, inthe state he was in. today's tuesday, and you've been asleep anddelirious since saturday night. don't you remember?" "no," i said slowly. "darry, i'm not ever going to be able to makeup the school i've missed. and i've still got to go to court and talkto the police about bob's getting killed.
and now... with dally..." ---i took a deep breath--- "darry, do youthink they'll split us up? put me in a home or something?" he was silent. "i don't know, baby. i just don't know." i stared at the ceiling. what would it be like, i wondered, staringat a different
ceiling? what would it be like in a different bed,in a different room? there was a hardpainful lump in my throat that i couldn't swallow. "don't you even remember being in the hospital?" darry asked. he was trying tochange the subject. i shook my head. "i don't remember."
"you kept asking for me and soda. sometimes for mom and dad, too. but mostlyfor soda." something in his tone of voice made me lookat him. mostly for soda. did i askfor darry at all, or was he just saying that? "darry..." i didn't know quite what i wanted to say. but i had a sick feeling thatmaybe i hadn't called for him while i was
delirious, maybe i had only wanted sodapopto be with me. what all had i said while i was sick? i couldn't remember. i didn't want toremember. "johnny left you his copy of gone with thewind. told the nurse he wanted you to have it"i looked at the paperback lying on the table. i didn't want to finish it. i'd never getpast the part where the southern gentlemen
go riding into sure death because they aregallant. southern gentlemen with big black eyes inblue jeans and t-shirts, southern gentlemen crumpling under street lights. don't remember. don't try to decide which onedied gallant. "where's soda?" i asked, and then i could have kicked myself. why can't you talkto darry, you idiot? i said to myself.
why do you feel uncomfortable talking to darry? "asleep, i hope. i thought he was going to go to sleep shavingthis morning and cut his throat. i had to push him to bed, but he was out likea light in a second." darry's hopes that soda was asleep were immediatelyruined, because he came running in, clad only in a pair of blue jeans. "hey, ponyboy!" he yelped, and leaped forme, but darry caught him. "no rough stuff, little buddy."
so soda had to content himself with bouncingup and down on the bed and pounding on my shoulder. "gosh, but you were sick. you feel okay now?" "i'm okay. just a little hungry." "i should think you would be," darry said. "you wouldn't eat anything most ofthe time you were sick. how'd you like some mushroom soup?"
i suddenly realized just how empty i was. "man, i'd like that just fine." "i'll go make some. sodapop, take it easy with him, okay?" soda looked back at him indignantly. "you'd think i was going to challenge himto a track meet or something right off the bat." "oh, no," i groaned. "track meet.
i guess this just about puts me out of everyrace. i won't be back in condition for the meets. and the coach was counting on me." "golly, there's always next year," soda said. soda never has grasped theimportance darry and i put on athletics. like he never has understood why we went allout for studying. "don't sweat it about some track meet." "soda," i said suddenly.
"what all did i say while i was delirious?" "oh, you thought you were in windrixvillemost of the time. then you keptsaying that johnny didn't mean to kill that soc. hey, i didn't know you didn't likebaloney." i went cold. "i don't like it. i never liked it"soda just looked at me. "you used to eat it.
that's why you wouldn't eat anythingwhile you were sick. you kept saying you didn't like baloney, nomatter what it was we were trying to get you to eat." "i don't like it," i repeated. "soda, did i ask for darry while i was sick?" "yeah, sure," he said, looking at me strangely. "you asked for him and me both. sometimes mom and dad. and for johnny."
"oh. i thought maybe i didn't ask for darry. it was bugging me." soda grinned. "well, you did, so don't worry. we stayed with you so much thatthe doctor told us we were going to end up in the hospital ourselves if we didn't getsome sleep. but we didn't get any anyway."
i took a good look at him. he looked completely worn out; there werecircles under his eyes and he had a tense, tired lookto him. yet his dark eyes were still laughingand carefree and reckless. "you look beat," i said frankly. "i bet you ain't had three hours sleep sincesaturday night."
he grinned but didn't deny it. "scoot over." he crawled over me and floppeddown and before darry came back in with the
soup we were both asleep.
