Susan Hinton - The Outsiders

“I guess so.” I was glad we were going back. I was sick of that church. I didn’t care if I was bald.

Dally was scowling, and from long and painful experience I knew better than to talk to him when his eyes were blazing like that. I’d likely as not get clobbered over the head. That had happened before, just as it had happened to all the gang at one time or another. We rarely fought among ourselves — Darry was the unofficial leader, since he kept his head best, Soda and Steve had been best friends since grade school and never fought, and Two-Bit was just too lazy to argue with anyone. Johnny kept his mouth shut too much to get into arguments, and nobody ever fought with Johnny. I kept my mouth shut, too. But Dally was a different matter. If something beefed him, he didn’t keep quiet about it, and if you rubbed him the wrong way — look out. Not even Darry wanted to tangle with him. He was dangerous.

Johnny just sat there and stared at his feet. He hated for any one of us to be mad at him. He looked awful sad. Dally glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. I looked out the window.

“Johnny,” Dally said in a a pleading, high voice, using a tone I had never heard from him before, “Johnny, I ain’t mad at you. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You don’t know what a few months in jail can do to you. Oh, blast it, Johnny”—he pushed his white-blond hair back out of his eyes—“you get hardened in jail. I don’t want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me…”

I kept staring out the window at the rapidly passing scenery, but I felt my eyes getting round. Dally never talked like that. Never. Dally didn’t give a Yankee dime about anyone but himself, and he was cold and hard and mean. He never talked about his past or being in jail that way — if he talked about it at all, it was to brag. And I suddenly thought of Dally… in jail at the age of ten… Dally growing up in the streets…

“Would you rather have me living in hide-outs for the rest of my life, always on the run?” Johnny asked seriously.

If Dally had said yes, Johnny would have gone back to the church without hesitation. He figured Dally knew more than he did, and Dally’s word was law. But he never heard Dally’s answer, for we had reached the top of Jay Mountain and Dally suddenly slammed on the brakes and stared. “Oh, glory!” he whispered. The church was on fire!

“Let’s go see what the deal is,” I said, hopping out.

“What for?” Dally sounded irritated. “Get back in here before I beat your head in.”

I knew Dally would have to park the car and catch me before he could carry out his threat, and Johnny was already out and following me, so I figured I was safe. We could hear him cussing us out, but he wasn’t mad enough to come after us. There was a crowd at the front of the church, mostly little kids, and I wondered how they’d gotten there so quickly. I tapped the nearest grownup. “What’s going on?”

“Well, we don’t know for sure,” the man said with a good-natured grin. “We were having a school picnic up here and the first thing we knew, the place is burning up. Thank goodness this is a wet season and the old thing is worthless anyway.” Then, to the kids, he shouted, “Stand back, children. The firemen will be coming soon.”

“I bet we started it,” I said to Johnny. “We must have dropped a lighted cigarette or something.”

About that time a lady came running up. “Jerry, some of the kids are missing.”

“They’re probably around here somewhere. You can’t tell with all this excitement where they might be.”

“No.” She shook her head. “They’ve been missing for at least a half an hour. I thought they were climbing the hill…”

Then we all froze. Faintly, just faintly, you could hear someone yelling. And it sounded like it was coming from inside the church.

The woman went white. “I told them not to play in the church… I told them…” She looked like she was going to start screaming, so Jerry shook her.

“I’ll get them, don’t worry!” I started at a dead run for the church, and the man caught my arm. “I’ll get them. You kids stay out!”

I jerked loose and ran on. All I could think was: We started it. We started it. We started it!

I wasn’t about to go through that flaming door, so I slammed a big rock through a window and pulled myself in. It was a wonder I didn’t cut myself to death, now that I think about it.

“Hey, Ponyboy.”

I looked around, startled. I hadn’t realized Johnny had been right behind me all the way. I took a deep breath, and started coughing. The smoke filled my eyes and they started watering. “Is that guy coming?”

Johnny shook his head. “The window stopped him.”

“Too scared?”

“Naw…” Johnny gave me a grin. “Too fat.”

I couldn’t laugh because I was scared I’d drown in the smoke. The roar and crackling was getting louder, and Johnny shouted the next question.

“Where’s the kids?”

“In the back, I guess,” I hollered, and we started stumbling through the church. I should be scared, I thought with an odd detached feeling, but I’m not. The cinders and embers began falling on us, stinging and smarting like ants. Suddenly, in the red glow and the haze, I remembered wondering what it was like in a burning ember, and I thought: Now I know, it’s a red hell. Why aren’t I scared?

We pushed open the door to the back room and found four or five little kids, about eight years old or younger, huddled in a corner. One was screaming his head off, and Johnny yelled, “Shut up! We’re goin’ to get you out!” The kid looked surprised and quit hollering. I blinked myself — Johnny wasn’t behaving at all like his old self. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the door was blocked by flames, then pushed open the window and tossed out the nearest kid. I caught one quick look at his face; it was red-marked from falling embers and sweat-streaked, but he grinned at me. He wasn’t scared either. That was the only time I can think of when I saw him without that defeated, suspicious look in his eyes. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

I picked up a kid, and he promptly bit me, but I leaned out the window and dropped him as gently as I could, being in a hurry like that. A crowd was there by that time. Dally was standing there, and when he saw me he screamed, “For Pete’s sake, get outa there! That roof’s gonna cave in any minute. Forget those blasted kids!”

I didn’t pay any attention, although pieces of the old roof were crashing down too close for comfort. I snatched up another kid, hoping he didn’t bite, and dropped him without waiting to see if he landed okay or not. I was coughing so hard I could hardly stand up, and I wished I had time to take off Dally’s jacket. It was hot. We dropped the last of the kids out as the front of the church started to crumble. Johnny shoved me toward the window. “Get out!”

I leaped out the window and heard timber crashing and the flames roaring right behind me. I staggered, almost falling, coughing and sobbing for breath. Then I heard Johnny scream, and as I turned to go back for him, Dally swore at me and clubbed me across the back as hard as he could, and I went down into a peaceful darkness.

When I came to, I was being bounced around, and I ached and smarted, and wondered dimly where I was. I tried to think but there was a high-pitched screaming going on, and I couldn’t tell whether it was inside my head or out. Then I realized it was a siren. The fuzz, I thought dully. The cops have come for us. I tried to swallow a groan and wished wildly for Soda. Someone with a cold wet rag was gently sponging off my face, and a voice said, “I think he’s coming around.”

I opened my eyes. It was dark. I’m moving, I thought. Are they taking me to jail?