this is Ponyboy. aint he cute? i know he is. this is him when we stop by that trash heap on our way back to Dairy Hut and he sits on a tire on top of a tall basket
*Two Little Outsiders*
as Ponyboy continued to browse online (which i dont know how he got the idea how to considering they didnt have internet in the 60s) i went into my kitchen and pulled out something to eat from the fridge. it was a Chocolate Cream Pie i had made for myself with a recipe i had gotten when i was in 7th grade from my Home Ec. teacher. "Hey, Pony, you want some chocolate pie?" i asked him. i saw him look up from the computer screen and into the window to my kitchen.
"sure," he said with a smile. "i love chocolate stuff, same as my brothers." i smiled.
"i know," i mumbled to myself. so i grabbed two paper plates off the top of my fridge and took the lid off of the pie pan. i started to cut us slices.
"so," Ponyboy started. "theres a movie based off of my paper?" i shook my head.
"no, theres a movie based off of an author's book," i said.
"but that IS my paper."
"but apparently not everything is true in the book so its technically not your full paper for your English class."
"but its still my paper." i grunted and stepped outta the kitchen with his plate. i handed it to him, along with a napkin. i pulled up a chair next to the computer chair and looked at the screen. then i turned to Pony who was digging into his pie.
"wow. this is really good, Amber. i ought to make something like this for my brothers. who made it?" i smiled. he liked my cooking! i didnt think i was all that good at preparing food.
"i did," i said. he stared at me wide-eyed. then he smiled.
"i thought so," he said. "you look like the cooking/baking type. i can cook too. sometimes i have to make breakfast for my brothers if im the first on up cause"--i stopped him.
"i know," i said. "the first one up has to make breakfast and the other two do dishes. i know alot. freaked out yet?" Pony smiled nervously. i bet i was making feel uncomfortable, me knowing all these things about him and his life. "sorry," i said quietly.
"it-its alrite, i guess. its just..." he started but then he trailed off. i finished his thought for him.
"its weird knowing that theres things about you, all your secrets and beliefs, stored in a book that millions of kids our age and youger have read." Ponyboy nodded and looked down at the desk the computer sat on. silence carried on for a few minutes. but then he broke it by asking, "so, anyway, back to our original conversation, theres a movie?"
i nodded. "you wanna watch it?"
he shook his head. "i should probably read the book first, Amber." i smiled.
"right." i set my plate on the desk and got up to grab my book. i handed it Ponyboy. "here."
"youre gonna let me borrow it? i meant i was maybe gonna go to the library or buy it. you dont have to lend me your copy." i smiled and shook my head.
"its okay, Ponyboy. i trust you with one of my favorite books of all time. but if anything happens to it, so help me..." i said playfully. he smiled and chuckled.
"alright. i'll be careful. i promise," he said. i fluttered on the inside. i liked it when he promised me things. i really did. and i dont know why.
we headed on our way back to Dairy Hut after an hour of messing around on the internet. it was a long walk, the one we took. i kicked small rocks that layed strewn on the sidewalk as we went. we passed a trash heap and Ponyboy stopped. "wow," he said. "this is just like the one near my house, the one i go to to get away. i know its not an ideal place to be alone but its quiet if you go deep enough. this looks just like it." he started heading into the trash. i rolled my eyes and followed him.
"Ponyboy," i said. he stopped and turned around to look at me.
"yeah?" he asked.
"why we going through here?"
"cause...i guess it reminds me of home. but if you wanna keep going to meet Dallas and Johnny, then we can go." then i felt bad. he was homesick and this giant pile od trash reminded him of home (that sounds funny, doesnt it?). i shook my head.
"no, its fine. wait for me!" i said enthusiastically. he chuckled and we climbed over bundles of trash. it kinda smelled but you got used to it after a while. i sat down on a pile of old newspapers and he sat on a tire that was on top of a tall basket. he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. then, just to be...polite, he offered me one. i took one (truth be told ive never really smoked before so i thought the weed tasted a little funny. but i got used to it) and we sat there and smoked and stared at each other for a while. it was nice, i guess. i liked looking at Ponyboy...is it just me, or did that sound weird?
"so," i said. "how come it wasnt mentioned in the book that you have a special...trash heap that you like to go to?" Ponyboy looked intently at me.
"well, i guess since i didnt put it in my paper it wasnt mentioned in the book."
"why didnt you put it in your paper?" i asked.
"right," he said with a laugh. "like im gonna tell my English teacher in a paper i like to sit on trash so i can get away from the world. that would just give him and everyone else in this world another reason to think im a worthless piece of poor trash." i furrowed my eyebrows and stared at Ponyboy. i crossed my arms over my chest.
"youre not a worthless piece of poor trash, Ponyboy!" i said. he shook his head and looked at me more intently.
"dont lie," he said seriously.
"im not," i said. "now quit acting like that. dont be so pessimistic, Pony. not everybody judges."
"i know YOU dont judge, but alot of people DO."
"i know," i said. "people shouldnt judge others. 'it was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. there should be some help, someone should tell them before its too late. someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people wouldnt be so quick to judge a boy by the amount a hair oil he wore. it was important to me.' its important to me too, Ponyboy. i understnad what it feels like to be judged too quickly. someone SHOULD tell their side of the story...and you did. i admire you for that." Pony stared at me then he blushed a little.
"did you quote that from my paper?" he asked. i nodded. "wow, you got a good memory."
"not really," i said. "i have a terrible one. people are always nagging me about it. its annoying." it was quiet again as we stared at each other.
"i hate it," Ponyboy said, breaking the silence. "i hate judgment! why arent people given a chance to speak before theyre judged?" i shrugged my shoulders.
"i dont know, Ponyboy. i dont know." it was quiet again after that. neither of us spoke as the chilly summer breeze wisked my hair around, occasionally masking my face. i held my legs and hugged them against my chest. i rested my chin on my knees and stared at Ponyboy as i thought about other things. and this time it wasnt weird that i was staring at him, cause he was staring right back at me.
so we both sat there, quiet. we were two little Outsiders who were judged too quickly by the ones who had no feeling. two little Outsiders who were judged before given the chance to speak.
this is an Outsider i know who, just like me, is judged before given the chance to speak