#jack sallow

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

hey pony i think curlys gonna get hypothermia outside in this storm :p

Pony shuffles the papers around, anxiously pullin out the first one he finds with Curly's name on it. He visibly tenses n Johnny scoots closer so their hips are touchin, slingin a gentle arm around his shoulder. A small amount of the tension drops out of his spine but it comes right back as the storm howls insistently outside.

'It's alright, Pone. You gotta try to relax. You're gonna make yourself sick or somethin man.' Johnny gently pulls the note from Pony's hand n Pony lets him with a sigh.

'I'm just worried s'all.' He reaches up absently to fucked with the edge of Johnny's vest, a self soother, n Johnny let's him.

'He'll be fine. He's a Shepard. I'm pretty sure those fuckers are indestructible.' Pony lets out a lil half laugh n sighs. 'Just try to take a nap or somethin-'

There's a bangin. Loud n insistent on the storm door. Everyone freezes. Pony goes ramrod straight in Johnnys arms in alarm.

Darry is on his feet in an instant. He looks over the room again, everyone except Dallas. His eyes flick to the door. It could be anyone. But Darry's a better man than any of em. He won't leave anyone out in this.

Pony takes half a step towards the door n Darry jabs a finger warnin'ly to stay put. Pony scowls but reluctantly remains where he's standin. Darry nods, crosses to the doors, n with a last glance to make sure no one's standin nearby, heats them open against the storm.

Two boys tumble headfirst into the shelter n practically into Darry Curtis' arms. One of them is Curly Shepard. The other is a boy only two of them recognize. N it ain't a warm welcome.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

despite the storm raging both outside and in, the mailbox still stands. An oblivious note inside, another cheap sticky note. Reading,

“we have the girl, if her asshole brother pays us what he owes. She’ll come back alive. If he doesn’t, that bow in her hair won’t be the only thing you’ll get back in pieces. Time’s runnin’ out Jack.

You’ll know where to find us, you have a habit of beating on little kids there. :)”

Fuck. He knows, Jack /knows/ exactly where Lolly is. Though he’s oblivious to the scream echoing from outside, lost to the wind.

Curly rips the note off the cement, nails tearin minutly along the edges. He curses. Those fuckin Brumley Boys were gonna fuck this up worse for all of them.

'Give that to me!' Jack leans around Johnny, tries to snatch the paper away from Curly. Johnny snaps between them before he can get closer, hand dartin to the switch in his back pocket. Before Jack can respond, two, Steve, n Soda are on their feet. Fists clenched, eyes hard.

Jack wavers. Freezes. Opens n closes his mouth. But it's Curly who speaks.

'It's for him, Johnny. It's about his sister.' N no amount of hidin it makes the look of fear on his face not utterly n completely unmistakable.

Curly holds the note out to him n Jack moves slow, like tryin not to disturb a pack of hungry dogs. He takes the paper, readin it desperately.

'Oh God. Lolly.'

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

“Oh.”

Y’see, usually when him n Julian jump some kids cuz Jack got pissed off at something or other- they never see em again. Lately, it seems, karma isn’t gonna let that happen. Here he is, with three of the greasers he’s jumped n also their friends and family. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he’d end up like Julian. in a hospital bed. with permanently damaged vocal cords. he don’t usually feel sympathy after he hurts a couple of greasers, but that Curly kid has basically saved his life n that has to be worth something. Still, he don’t apologize or say anything. He crossed his arms and stared at Johnny Cade- yet another greaser who he’s hurt.

There's a flutterin heartbeat of recognition across Jack's face. It ain't apology by any means. Just a jolt of somethin sickenin'ly close to fear. Johnny doesn't move, matches him glare for glare, fists still clenched, fingertips bloody.

Pony rears back from Curly, lookin between them with narrowed searchin' eyes. Curly slumps forward into Pony's chest so the only thing that can be seen of him are his pupils, watchin the stand off with piqued interest.

When the silence is finally broken, it's Johnny who speaks. 'I'll take that as a yes.' He stalks forwards, placin himself slowly, incremently between Pony n Jack. 'So you're the one that jumped Pony huh? Still runnin round jumpin kids cause you're too scared to beat on someone your own size?'

His voice is low. Dangerously low. But it's like everyone in that celler had fallen silent to let him be heard. Even the storm outside holds its breath. Cause Johnny Cade didn't talk to nobody like that. Ever.

'It was you?' Jack's mouth snaps open. Whether to answer or not he's cut short by the storm doors buckin open with renewed vigor.

N a note. Rainsoaked n wind torn flutters down the steps n plasters to the floor. Right at Jack's feet. In a handwritin Curly recognizes in an instant .

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Jack was gonna kill ‘em. Every single last Brumley boy, as soon as the storm ended, was gonna get beat up to hell. He doesn’t care that he’ll probably have to do it alone- most Socs aren’t stupid enough as him to go after real hoods like them and Julian’s still in the hospital, but hell he’s never held back when it comes to protecting his sister. Y’can ask the stupid 4th grader who’s arm Jack broke when he was 12 cuz they pulled Lolly’s braid.

Jack was shakin, n cold- but the simmering rage kept him warm. Those stupid hoods better pray this storm never ends—

wait is this the Curtis house- god help him

Curlys dragging him, full force haulin him through the darkness. Jack is don't say anythin. Not a goddamn word. His stare is blank n vacant. Neither of them say anythin.

They run. Duckin into alleyways n under broken fences Curly knows like the back of his hand. He ducks through the kicked down boards of a post , twistin to make sure Jack is still followin. The eyes that meet him blaze. Curly flinches before he thinks.

But the anger ain't directed at him. N when he stops to think, his hand twitches thoughtlessly around Lollys ribbon. N he finds he's angry too.

'Cmon.' He jerks his head n Jack shakes his hair from his face, refocusin on Curly. They slip through n it's only a half a block further before they're there. The Curtis'. He takes a runnin start n hops the gate Darry never fixed, slippin around the side of the house towards the celler doors. When he turns, Jack ain't there. Instead, hoverin uncertainly on the other side of the fence.

Curly points, harsh jerkin movements cause the storm is roarin so loud in his ears he can't hear nothin else. Jack shakes his head once. 'I have to-'

'Have to what? Die out here? You think Lolly wants that? You can't fuckin find her if you're dead Sallow!' Jack flinches back. Sways on hesitant feet. Curlys bout to decide he can lead the fuckin horse to water but he can't make the goddamn thing drink when Jack takes three small steps back n runs for the gate, hoppin it followin the example Curly had laid.

Curly sighs, somethin burnin relief down his throat, turns, n bangs open palmed on the celler doors. Jesus. Now they can only pray they can even be heard above the storm.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Lolly. Lolly was the only thing on his mind. Oh god Lolly- he had put that very ribbon in her hair only hours ago, she had yelled at him for being rude to the nurses only hours ago, she had hugged their father goodbye as he left for work only hours ago. N suddenly Jack was on his knees sobbing n punching the ground till his knuckles bled- and all he can hear is ringing. The ringing he hears when all he can feel is simmering rage. He scrabbled to get up- to run to the tree because Lolly has to be here somewhere. She has to. God please she has to be here. He can vaguely hear Curly callin Lolly’s name but all he can think is- This your fault Jack. N he knows it’s true, cuz Julian’s pulse would’ve never stopped for three minutes if he had just kept his anger in check, Lolly wouldn’t even be on the east side of Jack just kept walking that day instead of jumping a kid two years younger than him.

Curly's stumblin blind, the rain n the wind rippin into a rage. Branches break n fall from the neighborin trees n he's suddenly hit with a memory of Tim hollerin at him when they were younger. About open fields n storms. Jesus fuck they had to get out of there.

Jacks on his knees. His knuckles are bloody, the rain mixin n makin it drip down his hands n into the street. Curly freezes. It wasn't long ago that was his blood on this boys hands. But when he looks up, his eyes are hallow n scared n Jesus fuck. Tim would have left. Dallas never would have come in the first place. But Curly ain't tough n cold like them.

'Cmon. We have to go.' Curly snatches at his vest, the fine fabric stretchin under his hands, n hauls him to his feet. He has to put his mouth to Jack's ear to be heard n he shouts over the storm.

'No! My- my fuckin- Lolly! LOLLY!' Curly considers leavin him. He really does. But he won't have this blood on his fuckin hands. Not even this boy. He drags Jack back n he stumbles. For a moment, he lets Curly pull him then he begins to thrash again.

'Are you fuckin STUPID? If I leave you here you're gonna-'

'Her ribbon. I need-' Curlys already movin. Runnin fast n hard back across the lot. When he reaches for the ribbon he rips his hands back. It ain't just a ribbon there.

Theres a note.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

breath- breath. In and out, in and out. That’s what Lolly tells him to do before letting his emotions cloud his actions right? Well Jack was never good at following instructions because in less than a second he stops breathin, stops thinkin, and just runs. Runs as fast as he can, and boy is there a reason he’s only a pitcher cus’ he ain’t a fast runner at all. But all his can think about is what the kid said- telling his mom and telling his Father, mom would die. Genuinely fuckin die. And father only likes Lolly- god, Lolly! Breath. In, out, in, out- He can beraly see three feet infront of him, can’t hear anythin either because of the stupid wind. Hell he doesn’t even know if Curly is following him. All Jack can think about is-

“LOLLY-!?”

Curly doesn't think. He just moves. He reacts before Jack. Head rippin around to the source of the noise. Jack freezes, breath rippin in n out of him in strangled gasps. He doesn't move.

Lolly screams again. Curly ain't sure how he knows it's her but he's absolutely, resolutly sure. Jack shoots to his feet n runs. N all that shit Curly had said? Means nothin. Cause before he can think he's after him.

Years of out runnin cops n Socs n, occasionally, Tim, have made him quick on his feet n he overtakes Jack in less then a block. When he turns the corner he skids to a sudden, forceful halt. Jack nearly slams into him.

A tree's come down in the lot. The big oak. The one littered with the remains of kites n empty plastic bags. The one Curly once broke his leg fallin out of. The one older then Tim or Dallas or even Darry. There's somethin tangled in one of the branches blockin the street. A single lavender ribbon.

N there's only the sound of the wind.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

He furrowed his brows and got up, fist at his sides. Whatever- he didn’t need some stupid greaser to find his kid sister. All that mattered was that Lolly was out there alone, cold, and scared.

“how ‘bout you go cry to your brother again? If you don’t mind me, I’ve got a sister to find before she gets hypothermia, grease.”

The stupid rain kept pouring down, and the stupid wind kept messing up his hair, and the stupid sound of trees rustling around them just felt like taunting from the earth itself.

he balled up his fist tighter, and turned around. If he kept standing here arguing to some punk kid, Lilly might as well be a dead girl walkin.

Curly stuffs his hands in his pockets. Every shred of empathy drained right out of him. He tilts his head. Grins. 'Maybe I will. At least I got a sister to go home to. Yknow. A kid like her. All alone on the east side? Don't have nowhere safe to shelter? Ha. Jack. You can talk all you want about runnin home with your tail between your legs. At least I ain't goin home to tell my folks I got my sister killed.'

His jaw snaps shut. N for a long moment neither of them speak. Curly blinks hard against the rain, shock at his own cruelty coursin through him.

Jack opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again. But whatever he'd been about to say is lost. The sound of thunder rips across the sky. Lightnin illuminates the two boys swayin desperate in the alley. A crack echos down the street, the great achin of somethin crashin to the Earth. N then, the unmistakable sound of a childs scream.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

”I wouldn’t be alone if your lot hadn’t nearly fuckin killed Julian.”

Jack muttered angrily. He dug his nails into his palm as he glared at Curly. He shouldn’t trust this boy, who in gods green earth would ever help out a guy who jumped him? He sure as hell wouldn’t so why would some greaser. But Lolly was out there, n it was cold, n she was oh so scared of storms - and hell whatever.

“but fine. I’ll leave ya alone and I’ll get some of the other Socs to too- IF you n your greaser friends do the same.”

Curly laughs in his face. Somethin that rips deep from in his throat. Jack glares up at him, hands snappin into fists by his side. 'You're real fuckin funny, man. Yknow that? If my lot hadn't hurt yall?' Curly rips at the collar of his jacket, when he pulls it back the choker of bruises still stands out against his dark skin. Suddenly nothin is fuckin funny at all.

'You wanna talk about people fuckin hurtin each other I don't think you got any fuckin leg to stand on.' Curly throws himself down so he's crouched in front of Jack, his jacket still open so the marchin line of bruises n scabs marks Curly in the darkness. Jack's eyes flicker down once, n then back up to glare at Curly. When Curly speaks, his voices is a dangerous hiss, the sound a blade makes when it slips out.

'I still remember the look on your fuckin face when you jumped me, Soc. Don't think I've forgotten.' He pushes himself back up, the look on his face unreadable. 'Fuck this. You don't deserve my help anyway.'