Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
At eight years old, Virginia was a pure reflection of the young woman she was now. She was kind. She was smart. And she worked harder than any eight-year-old girl should. However, there was one—infamous— way in which she was very, very, different.
She would remember that conversation with her father in times when her anger would seem too overwhelming for her body. The emotions of that day were certainly unforgettable. The tension between her and Sodapop when he glared at her over his elusive hand of cards. Darry had taught them a new game all the older and in his words, "cooler" kids were playing in school. Virginia wouldn't forget the moment she realized Sodapop had cheated and still laid claim to the last piece of the chocolate bar they had in the refrigerator. She wouldn't forget the smug smile on his face as he ate the delicious confection right in front of her.
In fact, she was fortunate her father found her just as soon as she found the kitchen knife.
Five things, Bluie, Darrel Curtis Sr. told her gently. She should think of five things that fill her up with joy and calm her temper. At age eight, nearly everything made young Virginia happy. After much deliberation, she had settled on five things: yellow paint, wildflowers, Jane Austen, her artbook, and chocolate cake. Mr. Curtis was proud of her, and that's all that truly mattered but Virginia was grateful for the new anger-management technique that would last her for years to come as she'd have it.
Which she desperately needed after what happened with Dallas. Even a month of distance and anger had not quelled the fire inside of her because another war was imminent. The War of Lost Love, Ponyboy had cleverly named it when he came to understand the chain of events that caused such turmoil in his house.
Virginia heard Dallas' infamous laughter from below the stairs as she tied her hair up behind her white headband. It was bad enough she was working a ten-hour shift that day, did she have to face Dallas Winston in the comfort of her own house too?
"Boy, Dally, I thought you was dead or something!" That was Two-Bit, she identified.
Dallas Winston was impetuous like a child but also cunning as a snake. He had no qualms about bumming around downtown for the month folks thought he was missing. Yet he always seemed to show up in the mornings when she was forced to interrupt her peaceful slumber for a morning shift. He didn't have to say a word because Dallas knew the mere sight of his face would get her into a mood.
"Hey, Bluebell, I made your fav—"
"Doesn't he have his own home?" she grumbled, her angry eyes fixed on Dallas who watched Two-Bit try to balance his shoes on a few empty beer cans.
Ponyboy, holding a plate of scrambled eggs, two slices of crispy bacon, and warm toast buttered on both sides, peered into the living room curiously. "I guess, why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she growled, grabbing a clean mug from the dish rack. She bit back an insult when she felt Sodapop shove into her on accident while fixing his DX shirt on himself.
