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“HUT!”
Darrel Curtis passed the football under his legs, sending it perfectly into Steve Randle’s hands. In a flash, seven boys had taken off in a run; the cacophony of the various voices and pounding footsteps, the slap of the football hitting palms, was one of the oldest Curtis boy’s favorite sounds in the world.
How he missed those sounds.
Days like these, where it was sunny enough for the gang to forget their many troubles and take to the football field, made Darry feel like a kid again. It was a wonderful, fleeting feeling.
The ball sailed through the air to Johnny Cade, landing with a thunk in his calloused hands. Darry watched with a swell of pride as Johnny began to run, dodging Two-Bit’s tackle and practically flying down the field.
He was a good player. The others hadn’t really expected it at first, but what Johnny lacked in size, he made up for in speed, agility, and pure determination. It was one of Darry’s favorite things about the game, watching Johnny, as well as Ponyboy, prove to the older, bigger guys what they could do.
“Run, Johnny! Run!” He screamed. Johnny was on his team this time around and they were already ahead in score (as whichever team had Darry on it tended to be). Two-Bit was on Johnny’s tail again.
“Johnnycakes, I’m open!” Pony cried, waving his arms rapidly as Johnny searched for a way to get around Two. Sure enough, the black-haired boy sent the ball careening through the air safely into Pony’s hands, but not before Two-Bit managed to catch up with a flying tackle around Johnny’s waist.
Darry cringed as the small greaser flew backwards, tumbling to the ground and rolling a few feet with Two-Bit on top of him. The boys were always rough with each other and Johnny had been very adamant that nobody go easy on him just because he was smaller than the rest. Still though, it always made Darry’s big-brother instincts kick in when he got tackled.
“Oof!” Johnny finally came to a stop, rubbing the side of his head.
“Easy, Two!” Steve hollered.
“You alright, Johnnycakes?” Two-Bit scrambled to his feet, holding out a hand to help him up.
“Yeah, I’m good, man!” Johnny hopped to his feet, brushing the grass off his tattered jeans.
Satisfied, the game turned back to Pony, who was currently running for his life towards the makeshift goal posts.
Darry’s glance hovered on Johnny for a second. He didn’t miss the way Johnny limped a little as he stood or the small wince on his face. He looked fine, Darry thought, but he’d keep an eye on him.
“TOUCHDOWN!” Pony screamed suddenly.
“FUCK!” Dallas yelled immediately after. Being on the losing team wasn’t something the towheaded greaser had mastered gracefully yet.
“Just a game, Dal,” Soda grinned.
Darry ran to Pony, slapping him on the back and high-fiving him. That was his little brother. “Nice hustle, buddy,” he grinned, “and that was a hell of a pass, Johnny.”
Johnny came up behind them, red-faced and grinning. His shaggy black curls hung down almost to his shoulders, currently sticking up wildly all over his head.
Darry couldn’t help but notice that grin looked a little forced. He wasn’t moving as fast as before either.
It was no use asking him if he was okay as long as the rest of the gang was around.
“I could use some water,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “anybody else?”
“Pepsi?” Ponyboy asked innocently.
Darry ignored him. “Johnny, why don’t you come help me?”
“Me?” Johnny raised his eyebrows, “s-sure, I guess.”
“You guys, go back to playing. We’ll be back,” Darry said, slinging an arm around the little greaser.
“Alright,” Soda grabbed the ball, “new game!”
As the others broke into chaos as they decided teams, Darry led Johnny back towards their house. He was sure the kid was limping now.
“You okay, Johnny? That was a pretty rough tackle you took back there.”
“Hm?” Johnny looked up, shoving his hands in his pockets, “oh, yeah. I’m alright.”
“Can’t help but notice you’re walking a little funny.”
Darry ushered Johnny through the front door before shutting it behind the two of them and leading Johnny to sit down in the kitchen while he got them both glasses of water.
“Skinned my knee or something, I guess,” Johnny experimentally bent and flexed his knee a couple times.
“Okay,” Darry quirked an eyebrow, “if you’re sure.”
“Can we go back now? I’ll help ya with the drinks,” Johnny’s dark eyes were wide and something about them made Darry’s stomach twist. He was scared of something. Or maybe hiding something.
“Yeah, sure, kid,” Darry said, handing Johnny a few water bottles.
Johnny stood up with a grimace, clearly favoring his right foot over his left. He had only taken a couple of steps when, suddenly, his knees seemed to buckle and, in an instant, he was flat on his butt.
“Johnny!” Darry rushed to meet him, sliding to his knees and grabbing the young greaser’s arm. “Hey, what is it?!”
Johnny didn’t say anything, but his wide black eyes were squeezed shut in pain and his hands were wrapped around his ankle.
“Move your hands. Let me see,” Darry tossed the water bottles to the side, taking Johnny’s outstretched leg into his lap. “You hurt it when you got tackled, didn’t you?”
Johnny nodded slightly. “I didn’t wanna interrupt the game and I thought I’d be okay, y’know?” His voice was small and slightly desperate. “Adrenaline, I guess.”
Johnny was wearing his signature beat-up high-top converse, laced tightly around his ankles. Darry could see a bit of swelling starting under the worn fabric, but it was hard to tell with the shoe in the way. He began to unlace it, loosening the shoe around Johnny's ankle. Johnny sat back, propped on his hands, face paled slightly and set in a grimace. Frustration gnawed at him unrelentingly; he’d had to fight to get the other guys to play rough with him and treat him just like they did the others. Now he’d gotten hurt and they’d go back to treating him with kid gloves.
It was when Darry attempted to wriggle the shoe off his foot that the pain really set it.
“OW!” Johnny hissed, attempting to yank his foot out of Darry’s hold.
“Sorry, sorry!” Darry winced, “easy, kid…” not wanting to cause that pain again, Darry went back to attempting to loosen the laces even more. He could tell now that the poor kid’s ankle was really swollen and trying to get his shoe off without causing too much pain was proving to be a difficult task. “You shoulda said something when you fell,” he admonished gently. He couldn’t help it. Johnny was like his kid brother and he’d skin Ponyboy if he tried to run around a football field like this.
“Dallas gets in fights all the time,” Johnny said, trying his best to keep the whine out of his voice, “and he plays no matter what injuries he’s got. Nobody says a word about it, either.”
“Yeah, cuz nobody can talk Dallas out of doing a damn thing. That don’t mean it’s smart,” Darry shook his head. “You shoulda told me. I would have taken care of you.”
“I didn’t want help!” Johnny cried suddenly, head snapping up to meet Darry’s eye. “I just wanted to play football with you guys instead of being some burden you hafta take care of!”
“Whoa,” Darry held up his hands, “you think you’re a burden to us? Kid-“
“Everybody already thinks I’m pathetic!” Johnny’s voice rose in volume and in pitch.
“That’s not true-!”
“‘Course it is!” Johnny pulled his foot out of Darry’s lap, face set in a defiant look. “I know it is. I eat your food and take up your couch, and make you take care’a me all the damn time. I know it’s just pity. Just ‘cause my own folks hate me don’t mean I have to be everybody else’s problem too.”
Darry felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He forgot about Johnny’s injury for a moment as he watched the kid curl in on himself, soft black curls falling over his crestfallen face.
“Is that what you think?” Darry asked incredulously, moving to sit closer to Johnny’s side, “that you make us take care of you?”
“If you didn’t feel so bad for me…” Johnny sniffled slightly, turning his face away.
“Oh, Johnny, you’ve got it all wrong,” Darry put a gentle hand on top of Johnny’s, “where are you getting this from?” Johnny bowed his head, a singular tear tracing the soft curve of his nose. “Look at me,” Darry took Johnny’s chin in a gentle hand, moving his face to meet his before carefully thumbing away the tear, “you’re getting this from your folks, right? They tell you this stuff?”
Once again, the younger boy was silent. But the sad look in his big black eyes as he peered up at Darry told him all he needed to know.
“Baby, you know the things they say don’t mean a thing,” Darry said, knowing it was a whole lot easier said than done for the kid not to care what his own parents said about him. “And I know for damn sure that I can speak for the whole gang when I say we’re not comin’ from a place of pity, not at all. We care about you. And worryin’ about you, wanting you to be okay, that’s what you do when you love someone.”
Johnny looked up at the older boy through his eyelashes. “But you’ve got enough to worry ‘bout already.”
Darry shook his head with a sad smile. “You’re not just another burden on my plate, Johnny. We all need you just as much as you need us. Maybe more. Look at Ponyboy. You’re his best friend. He needs his best friend. Who else is gonna go to those movies and read his books with him? Can you imagine Two-Bit sitting there reading Great Expectations with him?” Johnny laughed lightly as Darry continued, “and haven’t you noticed you’re the only one that can calm Dallas Winston down when he’s off ready to whip somebody? If it weren’t for you, that kid would probably be back in jail a thousand times over again. You gotta see that, don’t you?”
A warm blush settled over Johnny’s face. His eyes were watery, but this time they were accompanied by a tiny, genuine smile. “You really think all that?” He asked shyly.
“And more,” Darry ruffled Johnny’s long hair with a grin. “Don’t you cry any more tears about getting some help once in a while, okay?”
“All the guys are gonna baby me if they know I got hurt,” Johnny’s face suddenly fell again, “I just wanna play like everybody else without anyone fussin’ over if I’m too small or if my old man has knocked me around or nothing. It wasn’t Two’s fault I got hurt, I just landed wrong.”
“Yeah, I understand,” Darry said thoughtfully, “but kid, we all know you’re tough as nails. We just don’t like seeing you all banged up.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Johnny said. Because we see you banged up enough already, Johnny knew that was what Darry was trying not to say.
“But if it helps, I think those boys are too competitive to risk letting anybody win out on that field. ‘Specially Dally. You hear him swearing up a storm when Pony made that touchdown?”
Johnny laughed suddenly. “Yeah, he’s not so good at losing, is he?”
Darry nudged him. “I promise, I’ll shut down anyone I see goin’ easy on you, alright? But only if you promise me you’ll tell me when you’re hurt.”
“I promise,” Johnny sighed, “I’m real sorry for making you worry.”
“Hey, it’s okay, kid. It’s only ‘cause I care about what happens to ya. Drives Pony crazy, but it’s true.”
Pony? Did he compare worrying about him to worrying about his own little brother? Johnny felt his heart skip a little beat and he couldn’t keep away the smile tugging at his lips.
“Now, I’m sorry, but we gotta get some ice on that ankle of yours,” Darry’s face turned sympathetic, “do you wanna get your shoe off yourself, or do you want my help?”
Johnny winced, turning his attention back to his outstretched leg. “I…I’ll do it.”
“You sure?”Johnny nodded. “I’ll get you some ice, then.”
Johnny bent his knee to his chest and reached for his shoe. As soon as his fingers touched it, he pulled them back as if he’d touched a hot stove. Bracing himself, he reached back, gritting his teeth as he began to wriggle his shoe side to side, sliding it off his ankle carefully.
A small whine escaped his lips as the shoe popped off. “Ow, OW!”
Darry was there in an instant with a bag of frozen peas. None of them actually ate them, but they all knew peas made the best ice packs.
“Hey, you’re okay,” he soothed, rubbing Johnny’s back slowly as the kid bit his lip to keep from crying out. It was much easier to get his sock off, which revealed a deeply-bruised ankle about twice the size of its opposite. “Shit, Johnny. That’s pretty bad.” Darry winced. “It could just be a nasty sprain, ‘specially since you were walking on it. If it doesn’t get better in a few days, well,” Darry smiled gently, “we’ll figure it out. Let’s get you off the kitchen floor, yeah? We should get that elevated.”
“Yeah, okay,” Johnny began to push himself up.
“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!” Darry scolded, gently holding him back down. Damn, the kid was gonna give him a heart attack one of these days if he didn’t start taking care of himself. “You’re not walking on that!”
Johnny’s ears turned red. “Sorry.”
With Darry’s help, the two managed to hobble to the couch. Darry let Johnny drop softly onto the cushions, scooting the coffee table in front of him and lifting Johnny’s leg to rest on top of it. Johnny winced again as Darry settled the ice pack on top of it.
“I know, sorry, Johnny,” Darry smiled sympathetically.
Suddenly, the front door flew open. Johnny jumped a little as Two-Bit flew through the frame, followed closely by Sodapop, then the rest of the gang.
“Hey! Superman, did you guys get kidnapped or something?” Two-Bit hollered.
“Nope, we got recruited by the NFL,” Johnny said softly but dryly from his seat on the couch. Darry grinned at the quiet remark.
“Yeah, where’s our water?” Soda followed.
They stopped in their tracks when they saw Johnny.
“What the hell?” Dally shoved between them, coming to a halt in front of the couch. “What happened?!”
“It’s no big deal,” Johnny blushed harder, retreating back into his quiet way.
Darry noticed and stood up, gently urging the others to back up a little. “Johnny hurt his ankle on the field. He’s fine, just needs a little rest.”
Two-Bit pushed past him again. “Shit, Johnny, did I do that?”
Dallas turned to Two-Bit suddenly. There was definitely murder in his eyes.
“Dallas!” Darry snapped, stepping between them. “It’s not your fault, Two. Just an accident.”
“Yeah, it’s not your fault. I’m okay,” Johnny said quietly.
“And he doesn’t need any of your big noses stickin’ in his business,” Darry teased.
“Now what do you mean by that?!” came an indignant quip from Steve.
Ponyboy, the quietest and most gentle of the bunch, came to sit next to his best friend. “You okay, Johnny?” He asked.
Johnny nodded, smiling softly. “I’m okay.”
“Good,” Pony scooted closer, letting Johnny rest his head on his shoulder contently. “Darry getting you ice cream would probably help you, right?”
“Hey!” Darry turned to him with a smirk, “I don’t remember offering that.”
“It’s for Johnny!” Pony looked up innocently. “He needs it. We all probably do.”
Darry snorted. He couldn’t say no to Pony when the kid was this happy. These moments of joy had become precious in their hectic lives. Plus, he knew Johnny could out-eat any of them when it came to ice cream and he wanted to keep the smile on the little greaser’s face. “Fine,” he relented, “I’ll be back in a minute. You all find something to watch on the TV. This house better still be in one piece when I get back.” He shot a pointed look at Steve and Soda, who were already wrestling on the floor.
Before he left, Darry took one last look around.
Dally had settled protectively on Johnny’s other side, still glaring occasionally at Two-Bit, who was seated on the floor leaning against Johnny’s good leg. Johnny was happily leaning into Pony, head settled on his shoulder.
Darry smiled. He couldn’t fix everything in the kid’s life, God knows. He couldn’t even fix much in his own. But right now, in that moment, Johnny was safe and loved, and that was more than enough for now.