“Why, are you thinking of enlisting?” she joked, turning serious again almost immediately. “Please tell me you’re not. Leave that to the people who can’t do any better.” She tried to lighten the mood and was seconds away from asking him whether something was wrong when he broke into a grin. She smiled back.
“A uniform wouldn’t be so bad,” Jasmine said, considering. “Then again, I am trying to be taken seriously here.” Something told her that the Greasers would be wholly unimpressed by her protesting in a miniskirt with a hair ribbon. She wouldn’t blame them. “Speaking of cheerleaders, have you talked to Hailey recently?” She tilted her head. Hailey had gone from leader to mother so quickly, from Social to Greaser. Even after all this time, Jasmine had to fight hard not to be stunned by it all. “She used to be all about the cute oufits and pretty megaphones.”
He shook his head. “I’m flattered you want me, Jasmine.” He smiled a knowing smile. “To stay, that is.” He gave her a wink and shook his head. “I have other priorities.”
Fletch shrugged. “Yeah, if that’s what you’re going for.” He crossed his arms and stood up straighter. It was weird that she was asking him about Hailey. Hailey did pass the leadership onto Jasmine. It wasn’t like they were really enemies. At least Fletcher didn’t think so. He waved away the thoughts. He didn’t actual care. Plus, he didn’t have anything to worry about. He hadn’t spoken to any of the Greasers in a very long time. So he just shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it pass her to still be. It’s one of the reasons why I liked her.” A flirtatious smile spread across his face. Of course he was kidding, but if he couldn’t joke around then he just wasn’t being himself.
Jasmine beamed as the first-timers grabbed pamphlets, looking at once hesitant and excited. The pamphlets disappeared into the hands of the crowd until she only had a single one left. By then, the crowd was nearly gone save for a few stragglers. She turned around to gather her things when a familiar face paused her movements.
“Fletcher Blackwood.” She tossed the megaphone into her bag and slung it over her shoulder before making her way towards him. “Tell me you’ll take one,” she said, holding up the last pamphlet with wide eyes. “Last one—it was destiny. Come on, we need you to stick around.” She could lead the Socs just fine, but she’d never have the manpower to beat the Greasers if they drafted all of her boys. “Show some Soc pride?” she tried, still holding the pamphlet up so that it covered the bottom half of her face.
Fletcher took the pamphlet with a smile and a nod. She didn’t need to know where it was going to end up. He could look at it and toss it wherever, he thought to himself. “You know you might have to work a little harder if you want me to stick around." Between the war and Fletch’s dad, there might not be any way to keep him in Tulsa. He honestly wasn’t sure he even wanted to be here anymore. He’s already lost so much.
He waved the pamphlet to emphasize his point. “I’m not sure a piece of paper will really help your cause. Maybe if you put on a cheerleading uniform and prettied up your megaphone you’d be set.” Fletcher smiled widely. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Jasmine. She was a good leader and he respected that. It was more of where she plans on going with her leadership. That and his recent history with the Greasers, it was almost a job to be a Soc now. One thing he’s always been good at is doing what he’s supposed to do and sneaking around doing what he shouldn’t, so he didn’t think anything would really get in the way now.
“The war in Vietnam is the government’s war, not the people’s war,” she shouted into the megaphone. Over the past couple of minutes, a small crowd had gathered near the entrance of Juliet’s Cafe to hear her speak. She only recognized a few of their face; for many of them, it was their first time at one of her protests. “Why are they sending our boys overseas when there are wars here that are still not over? My brother died in this war, the one right here in Tulsa. 17 years later, the government wants us to forget about our own problems and focus on theirs instead. I say that’s not fair!” Jasmine screamed and the megaphone emitted a high-pitched screeching noise.
“If you’re with me, please grab a pamphlet before you leave,” she said, waving a handful of them in the air, “and don’t forget to spread the word. Each pamphlet has information on future protests in the area and what you can do to help. Remember, we need our boys home with us.”
Fletcher stood near the crowd, leaning on the side of the doorway to Juliet’s. He liked these protests and would do it himself if he could ever get of his head what his father might say. His dad would probably like the bit about Tulsa. His mother would probably like the bit about not sending any of ‘our boys’ to war. He wasn’t sure what she’d feel about Jasmine speaking on all of it. More of the part of her being the leader of the Socs now more than as a protestor. He thought he knew how he’d feel about it and what parts he would like. Fletch thought he liked the whole speech, but he wouldn’t go up to her and ask for a pamphlet.
Resting her head on Fletcher’s shoulder as he hugged her, Dot looked resolutely ahead. “Yeah,I missed you too.” She murmured, resigned. She had missed him more than it should have been humanly possible to miss someone, really. And yet she’d been avoiding him since he got back despite it. “How was Colorado?” She asked, nuzzling her head against his neck.
the longer she felt his warm body against hers, the more she felt her resolve slipping, and so she broke off the hug. “Let’s - let’s walk,” she requested, voice hushed, “I don’t wanna wake him up.”
He laughed and made it more obvious he was whispering, "don't tell anyone I said this, but I liked it more than Tulsa." Instead of nodding he started walking to show his agreement. He had missed Tulsa, but he liked being away from his family and the pressure and drama. Everything there made him less anger and a lot happier. Somehow there just was no way to explain that to any either, not even Dot.
As the moon started to dim, Fletch turned around to walk backwards like old times. "So how's Tulsa been? Did you and that guy get back together?" For some reason he thought it would happen. He knew she had been happy with him and that's all he could want for her.
Dot was already awake when she heard the knock on her window, and yet she didn’t rush to it, or even get out of bed immediately. She already knew who it was; it couldn’t have been anyone else. And truth be told, she’d been avoiding her best friend lately.
After a few moments of heavy deliberation, she tossed her covers off and pulled clothes over her nighty before looking out of the window. Despite her resolve, she couldn’t help but smile when he grinned at her like that. “Hi,” she whispered, pushing the window open and glancing to the left of her, where Tyler’s bedroom was. “Ty’s asleep.” she informed him, gingerly climbing out of her window and crossing her arms over her chest. “What d’you want?” the usual sunny warmth that she felt when he was around didn’t descend on her this time; instead, all she felt was a steely sadness.
Fletcher nodded in acknowledgement, but he was more at ease than he would've been. Dot seemed to have an affect on people that not only made them want to protect her, but would go to lengths to do so. He learned that from Ricky, who is one of the toughest Greasers Fletch has met, and even with his asshole attitude, Ricky didn't kill Fletcher. He knew that it might be because the man loved his best friend, but he knew that usually that wouldn't stop a Greaser. Honestly, the boy just always knew there was something special about her. She was strong in her own way and it made him admire her more than anything.
Carefully, he kept his eyes on her as she made her way out of the window. He would've acted like he was severely hurt by the words that came out of her mouth, but he noticed she wasn't acting this way purely because the sun wasn't awake yet. After all, they hadn't been in much contact in the longest time. Before he said anything he pulled her into a hug and whispered in the crisp, almost-autumn air, "I've missed you, Odette."
Fletch knocked on Odette's window slighty. It was a little passed 2 am and he really missed his Dot. He hadn't seen her all summer or even when he got back. When she finally looked out he displayed his famous wide grin that shined in the moonlight.
Dethrone? Like she could fucking order me around. You know you sound like a fucking reporter, Miss Penny Lane. I don't give a damn who "leads" us as long as I get to beat some Greaser ass by the end of the day I'm FANtastic.
I couldn’t see it happening either. But hey, you never know. Maybe she’s having a good time. I know that Odette works for her so at least she has a friendly Greaser face out there with her.
A sexcapade? Well good for you.
My summer has been alright. I’ve just been gearing up for my nurse’s exam. I’m getting my license and graduating soon.
{Gwen playfully looked as if she was considering it.} No, I think I can make it to my bed just fine, but I’ll keep the offer in mind.
A friendly Greaser? I'll be damned. Here I thought they were just as kind as me. If you ask me it's the friendly ones you should watch out for. She could've been the reason Madelyn felt safe and now she's dead. Bet Hunter would love the fuel.
Thank you.
Well look at you. I'll visit just to see you in a nurse's outfit. Matter of fact, I think I tore something in my leg....
Call soon, okay? I'm getting with too many brunettes and I think it might be bad for me.
I took that dirty jacket
From the trash right where you left it
'Cause I couldn't stand to see it go to waste
Fletcher didn't really get along with many people in Tulsa due to his obvious need of work on manners. With the school year nearing its end, the most pressure of all was being put on him. He recently resulted on lying to his parents about where he goes on the weekend since they decided to put the hammer down on him. He would either tell them he was going to study with a tutor so his grades didn't slip or he was hitting the batting cages late. Sometimes he even told them he tutored then burned off some energy there, it was the weekend after all. At least he could get away with it then.
Now he was just getting into another argument with them.
"Mom, lay off! You're barely giving me enough calories just for this lecture!"
"Don't talk to your mother like that under my roof, boy!"
"Well I give you enough for you to go out to practice don't I? Or enough it seems to give someone the impression you're hanging around those little hooligans."
"Mom, we've been over this. If I've been over there anytime recently it was once for Hailey!"
"Yeah the same night you came home with a busted lip! Would you like to explain that?"
"And you're not doing very good on your swings lately either, son, you need to shape up! If I need to I'll kick you out of this house. I'll be damned it my son was messing around with those people. Even Hailey!"
"Oh honey, Hailey's a sweet girl..."
"Can you both just stop!!!?? You're driving me crazy! You know what? I'm out of here. You think I need to practice more Dad? Fine. I'll be there."
The boy went to the door despite the shouting of his father and pleads from his mother. He got in his car quickly, knowing they'd soon forget about him and start to fight with each other over him. He was the best damn kid they could've asked for, he thought at least. His anger got out of control sometimes and he liked to have some fun that wasn't always necessarily in a good way, but it was the only release he got from the stress he was consistently under. Fletch put sped off down the rode thinking about where he could go. There was no destination in mind, no parties to attend, no one he wanted to talk to. Dot crossed his mind, though it didn't seem right. He felt like he was leading her on. It also wouldn't help his current situation with everyone on his case about them. They were making it worse and his head hurt from thinking so much about it all. He thought about going to Mads, but he knew she'd know something's up and wouldn't stop bugging him until he told her. Neither would end well.
"Guess I'll just party by myself. At least tomorrow is Friday." He sighed to himself with a blank face and cranked his radio. He got on a back road and drove fast enough he hoped he would fly. Unfortunately he saw the light instead...well two lights, consisting of red and blue and a very piercing siren. "Damnit!" He banged his hands on the steering wheel and pulled over. The cop took his time to walk up to his car. "Fletcher Blackwood? Kid, what're you doing?" Fletch squinted through the window and the flashlight that was in his face. The officer turned it off and put his face more in sight. The man turned out to be one of his father's friends. "Son, because I know you, I'll let you off. I'll have to tell your father. You need to slow down. Understand?" Fletcher looking away and nodded. If he ever looked suspicious it was now. He was sweaty and his eyes were all over the place. His usually cool self was loosing it. The cop drove off, but he stayed for a few moments.
Fletch took the flask from under his seat and drank almost half of the full thing. He found it in his basement almost two or three years ago. He wasn't sure who it belonged to, but he could guess. Must've been his dad's. Everything just felt like it was falling apart. He was falling apart. He just didn't want to think anymore. He started to drive again.
Four hours later he was filling his tank and his now empty flask. He had gotten some whiskey and beer, telling the man he had forgotten his ID, but needed it for the last minute bachelor party otherwise he'd be the worst best man ever. Going to the car he felt like he wasn't even a man. Refilling his flask became his whole trip. He soon drank most of the whiskey and never stopped driving. He began to drink the last drops of the bottle, straight. Fletcher increased his speed on the back road no where near Tulsa. Then a white car came out of no where it seemed and he was in the wrong lane. He quickly turned the wheel, almost running them off the road. The boy stopped the car and took out the cars, drunkenly throwing them into the cornfield and throwing his head on the stirring wheel. He could've killed them. The question was, would he remember this time?
