When I was a little girl, before my mom started drinking, when things were simpler, when it didn't matter if you were poor, and I was too much of a boy to realize that I was supposed to a girl, I thought I would be a good actress. I always like watching Johnny Carson and Red Skelton on TV. Mom didn't like me watching TV, but on the occasion where she let me, I would sit and watch the Tonight Show with her and she would make cookie dough just for the sake of eating it raw. She didn't like to bake just because she always forgot she was supposed to check on the cakes and stuff to make sure they didn't burn.

As I got older, I thought maybe I could be an actress. And then, before I knew it, I'd forgotten all about it because I was so wrapped up in taking care of Greg and Claire. I guessed actors had to be in Hollywood to try and land themselves roles in stuff. You couldn't just wake up and you're on the set. It's not like I discovered this concept, I just slowly became more aware that my fantasy of being a movie star wasn't such a big cut and so I eventually gave up on it. I didn't tell anyone. It was a long lost dream and you lose dreams sometimes. Doesn't mean you give up on life; you take a break for a little while and dream up a new dream.

I brought this up now because the other day when I was in English, Mr. Jones asked me if I'd taken his advice by writing down what was bothering me. He said he'd noticed I'd eased up a lot more in his class, especially when we were reading. No one judged you in college. Not like in high school, anyway. People have their own thing they gotta do and people become more aware of what's their business and what's not.

I told Mr. Jones I did take his advice and he asked me if he could read what I'd written. I hesitated at first, but after thinking about it for a minute, I nodded and handed him my composition notebook. I apologized for my spelling and he just waved me off. He'd seen it all, I reckoned. He told me I didn't have to sit there and watch him read and I was glad. I didn't want to have to think about what he might be thinking while reading what I'd written. If you dig.

When he gave it back to me in class the next day, he didn't say anything. After class, he called me back and he said he was sorry that I had to go through what I went through. I shrugged it off. It was alright because the past is the past.

I told him there was lots more to the story and he said I was a mighty fine writer, even if I'm not so good at spelling. He said spelling doesn't matter when the story itself has a lesson. He said he hoped my story has a lesson. I don't know about a lesson, to be completely honest. I don't have a moral. I just go along with whatever comes next and I tell my thoughts exactly like how I think them. I don't alter them. Except maybe to filter out some bad words, but that's different. You know what I mean, right?

After he said he hoped my story has a lesson to it, and I replied with "maybe it does and maybe it doesn't", he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Before I could reply, he told me to write that down and how I felt about it. So I did. Just now.

I don't know why I never told anyone about how I wanted to be an actress as a little girl. I guess it's just one of those things where you fantasize about it a little bit, but you don't ever make an attempt to make that fantasy a real dream. It's just a thing in life, I guess. You either accept it as it is and move on, or you don't.

Maybe that's how I felt about Sodapop Curtis. I accepted the fact a long time before he even started going with Sandy that he could never love me. At least not in the way that I loved him. I don't know what it was about that Sodapop Curtis, but he had the kind of glow where, even if the people he's hanging out with ain't your kind, you still want to get to know them and even when you've known him almost your whole life, there's still stuff you wanna talk to him about.

Mr. Jones asked me if Sodapop's name was his real name or if I'd just used it in place of his real one. I said his real name was actually Sodapop and, by golly, he got a real good kick out of that. I said it was an original name because his dad was an original man and Mr. Jones said he would quite like to meet Sodapop Curtis. I didn't reply.

After that night me and my mom cooked dinner, things at home were very peaceful. I wondered what had happened to my mom, but I never asked her and she never told me. I figured if she really wanted to talk about it, she'd say so. I left her be. She started cooking again and she helped Greg and Claire with their homework and she even started actively looking for a job.

Two-Bit's mom put in her name with the manager at the bar she worked in and they called back. I was real proud Mom got a job after seven years and I thanked Two-Bit's mama a million and a half times for helping us out.

This was also the point where I figured I had to learn to drive. Since the Bakery gave me as many hours as they could, which still wasn't too many more, I was bringing in, excuse the pun, more dough. I ended up finding another job that I applied for. It was a good job and all I'd be doing was hauling shipments into trucks. It was an early morning job and I'd be done by the time Greg and Claire had to get up to get ready for school and I was free to hang out until noon when I had to go to the bakery to start my shift there.

The only problem with this job was that I didn't have a driver's license and they required I have one in case I'd have to drive one of the smaller trucks for some reason. They required all their employees have a driver's license. I told them I would get back to them and I went over to the Curtis' and told Darry. He was old enough to teach me to drive.

"Sorry, kiddo," he said. "I would, but I just don't have the time right now."

"Aw, I know, Darry. I was just hoping, you know."

"Yeah. What about your mom? I thought you were getting on good with her?"

"I was, but she doesn't have a driver's license, either."

"What about Sodapop?"

"Yeah, what about me?" came Soda's voice as he walked in through the front door with Steve. They'd been at the drag races so they were real riled up.

"Teach Candy Cane how to drive," said Darry.

"I'm tryin' to get this job and they require all their employees have a license."

"Well, sure, doll, I'll teach ya."

"Yeah?" I said, immediately perking up.

"Yeah, and I will, too," said Steve. "I mean, I only work part-time, so I still got lots of extra time."

"You're in school, though, Steve-o."

"Don't mean I still can't help my kid sister out," he grinned. He made his way into the kitchen and took out the chocolate cake. I was surprised there was any left, considering Darry usually made a cake a day.

"What about Ryan?" asked Sodapop.

I shrugged. Truth was, we hadn't talked in awhile. Not since my mom and I had been getting on better. "Um, he's been busy."

"Ya'll break up?" asked Steve through a mouthful of cake. I saw everyone now looking at me. I shook my head.

"No. Just some stuff. I don't know. It's not like we got in a fight. I've just been working a lot, ya know, and he's still in school and stuff."

"Well, it's alright, Roxy Road, Steve and I'll take care o' ya. We'll get you your license."

"Thanks a lot, man," I said. "Means a lot."

"Anytime, doll," said Steve, clapping me on the back.

x

"Just put it in gear, Candy," said Soda from the passenger's side.

I hesitated but put my hand on the clutch. I pulled down on it, but it didn't budge. "It won't."

"You gotta put your foot on the break first and then pull it down."

"Oh," I said. I felt my face burn red. I was so embarrassed. I pushed down on the break and then pulled down on the clutch, shifting the gear from P to D.

"Alright. Easy now, put your foot on the gas. It's the smaller pedal."

"Okay," I said, and pressed down a little on the gas. We moved forward slowly.

"Yeah, that's good," Sodapop said excitedly. "Alright, you can press down a little hard--NOT THAT HARD!" I quickly slammed on the breaks, making Soda and I both lunge forward. Our seatbelts caught us, but it sure didn't feel good on my chest.

"Sorry, sorry!" I said quickly.

"Agh," Sodapop said.

"Sorry, Soda."

"No, you're alright. It's okay. Now, just take 'er easy, okay?"

"Sodapop, I don't think I can do this," I said, shaking my head.

"Yes, you can. It's a hard thing to learn, but once you get the hang of it, you'll get it. Okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Now, just ease your foot off the break, okay?" I did as he said. The truck began moving forward.

"Soda, why is it moving? I'm not pressing on the gas—"

"It does that, it's supposed to. That's what the break is for. Now that your foot's off of it, it's gonna move. But you're in control of the vehicle, yeah? So you control where it goes. Let's drive to the lot. It's not too far and we can easily turn around and come back."

"Okay," I said, nodding some more. I pressed on the gas a little more and we were moving at a decent speed now.

"Okay, I speed like hell, but you don't have your license, so don't be speedin'. There's a stop sign up here at the corner, so you gotta come to a stop— but don't slam on the breaks. Just ease down on 'em— yeah, there you go!" We came to a complete stop at the sign. I looked left and right and, seeing no other cars coming, I carried on driving. "Damn, doll, you're doing alright!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Your knuckles ain't so white anymore, either."

"That's good," I said, seeing that my knuckles were indeed back to being pink (except for the scar on my left middle finger).

"Okay, now Candy Cane, you're gonna want to take a left up here, which means you gotta cross traffic. Think you can handle that?"

No, I wanted to say, but I didn't. "Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'll try my best."

"Alright, so it's another stop sign." I eased to another full stop. "Yeah, you got it. Now, put your blinker on."

I pushed down on the turn signal so it signalled left. "No cars," I said.

"Okay, so go ahead and turn left, but stay on the—"

"On the right side, I got it," I said. I turned to him and gave him a brief grin before turning right back to steering. Shouldn't take your eyes off the road, even if it's just to give your best friend a goofy smile.

"Alright, so yeah, you know the way—"

I continued driving and we soon made it into the lot. "And here we are," I said.

"Alright, shift the gear into park." I pressed on the breaks and shifted back into park. "Hey, cut the engine real quick."

"Um, o-okay—" I said. I turned the truck off and killed the lights as Sodapop hopped out the door. I followed suit. I  wondered what he was up to as he climbed into the bed of Darry's truck. "Whadya doing?" I asked.

"Come up with me." I did as he asked and climbed into the bed. I sat down next to him. "Been awhile since we done stuff like this."

"Yeah," I said. I was smiling.

"Candice?" I looked to Soda seriously. He hardly ever said my real name except if he was being serious.

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows scrunched together.

We were silent for almost a full minute. "I think you're real smart."

I whipped my head around to look at him. "What brought that on?"

"Well, you know, Ryan? I mean, course ya know him. He said you felt real bad about it, about not reading and stuff—"

"That dickhead told—"

"Hey, only 'cause I pressured him. He didn't tell no one but me. Swear."

I glared at my shoes. "Yeah, well."

"You didn't have to drop outta high school, doll-"

"Yeah I did. There wasn't any other way. But I've been reading on my own outside of school and I really like it. Those assholes, they were giving me an unrealistic expectation about stuff, you know, like reading levels and all that jazz. It just wasn't gonna work out."

"That don't mean you give up Candy Cane."

"Shoot, they gave up on me. Today, I was looking at a brochure for that college, University of Oklahoma, and they've got a GED program. I can go back to school any time I want when I'm ready and get a degree that says I've pretty much graduated high school."

"Well I'm proud of you then."

"You know, a lot of why I dropped out too was so I could be of more help at home. I'll be working two jobs now so I can help the little kids get what they need. Me and my momma, we've been real good lately."

"That's good, Candy. I'm so happy you've got your momma again. God knows I miss mine." I frowned.

"Hey, she'd be proud of you," I said, giving him another lopsided grin.

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"Hey Candy Cane?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever been in love?" I had to stop and process his words. Exactly what did he mean by that?

"Yes," I said. I felt too confident, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't lie about it.

"What's it feel like?"

I chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Well, it kinda hurts because you don't know if they really love you back. But I think it's worth it because even if you hurt, at least they're loved. Like really loved."

"You're not talking about Ryan, are you?"

I shook my head. "God don't tell him that."

"I won't, doll." I leaned back against Soda, my body curled up beside him and my head on his chest. I really dig a starry night. "Is it Two-Bit?"

"Huh?"

"Is it Two-Bit you're in love with?"

I couldn't help but laugh, causing him to laugh, too. We quietened again.

"Why would you think I'm in love with Two-Bit?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "Just asking."

"No, it ain't Two-Bit."

"It isn't either of my brothers, is it?"

"Yeah, I got a thing for Ponyboy. I'm into younger men."

"I'd hardly call my kid brother a man," he laughed. "He's not even fourteen yet. But I'll tell him you think so highly of him."

I shook my head, smiling like an idiot. I'd done an awful lot of that tonight. God, I loved Soda. I couldn't help but not smile at anything he said. And that's not because I was dazed or anything. He was just literally impossible to frown around. He was a real good person.

It made me wonder if my momma felt the same kinda love about my daddy. Or if maybe it was more the kinda love I had for Ryan.