For What It’s Worth By Another Illusion

Summary: Just as her life was falling into place Evie Saunders found out her boyfriend had been drafted for Vietnam, and it felt like her world was over. Steve POV, Evie POV and Gang POV.

A.N: I’m English so I use British spelling and terminology. Thanks as ever to my betas and to all reviewers.

Disclaimer: I do not own SE Hinton’s characters or anything associated with the Outsiders book or movie. I do own my original characters, however few they may be in this piece. The title of this piece comes from the 1967 song ‘For What It’s Worth’ by Buffalo Springfield. I clearly don’t own that either.

Basic Training seemed to end as quickly as it began, in Steve's opinion anyway. He was now going into Advanced Infantry Training, or AIT for short. Already Steve had noticed a change within himself, he was more obedient, ordered and controlled. Back in Tulsa he had frequently managed to involve himself in street brawls and was the first to instigate a fight. He had been impulsive and rash, which combined with his short fuse had not been a particularly harmonious combination for anybody around him. Now he found himself becoming more cool and controlled, he still could feel the heat of the urges and intensity of wanting to react to something, but now he seemed to just bottle it up and contain himself. It was almost worrying that he was turning into some obedient soldier, like the ones he had seen in the news on the television or in papers. It felt uncharacteristic and as though something key to his personality --an integral trait-- had been beaten out after so long a time in training and the imposed routine.

He turned over in his bed and checked his watch; he had ten minutes before he had to get up. He had been awake for nearly an hour, just lying there in complete silence wondering if it would be as quiet in Vietnam. The damn place was constantly on his mind, in every waking thought he was pondering his future in the war. In every memory he asked himself if he would get a chance to repeat it afterwards. There was nothing like getting drafted to make a guy consider his own mortality.

“You awake?” he suddenly heard Fielding hiss.

Steve paused. “Yeah.”

“We’re movin’ today.” Fielding whispered, resigned to his --to their-- fate. Steve grunted in response and tried to block the thoughts of having to go to war from his mind.

Fielding coughed and there was a sudden silence to see if anyone else had woken up. The sheer secrecy of the conversation was ludicrous to Steve.

“I ain’t sure I’m ready, Steve,” he quietly admitted.

“Sure you are,” Steve matter-of-factly replied, once again wishing Soda was there to point out a way to tactfully deal with the situation. Why did Fielding feel Steve was a good confidante? Was it not clear he was anything but a good listener? “You’ve got through Basic Training, haven’t you?” He wanted to make it sound like a natural progression that meant because you had made it through one particular milestone you would obviously be capable of completing the next task. Steve wanted to deny to himself the fact this would be even harder and that it marked the fact there was one less step to Vietnam.

Basic training led to AIT, AIT led to Vietnam, Vietnam led to war, and Steve had no real idea how things would progress from that point onwards, only that he wanted to get out of there alive, by any means necessary.

He sat up in the bed and sighed, wishing he had a cigarette. He didn’t understand why they were banned in training because he was sure in the war he would be able to get hold of some smokes. Hell, he would really need to smoke in Vietnam just to calm down. Still, a couple of guys with relatives there had said that they had managed to get hold of tobacco, and even a bottle of Coke, though the drink was sometimes laced with glass. The sheer idea that even Coke was banned in the Army was something Steve struggled with.

-----------------

As she tied her hair back from her face, Evie Saunders briefly smiled at Two-Bit. He was casually sitting on the kitchen counter, and drinking from a bottle of coke as he returned the grin. It was a Sunday afternoon and Evie was technically working, which she was not pleased with.

“Well c’mon then Peggy,” she grinned, taking a pair of scissors from her bag. Peggy was a sharp, sassy fourteen year old with Two-Bit’s grey eyes and her mother’s rusty curls. And she did not look amused that one of her brother’s friends was to be one who would be cutting her precious hair. Evie wondered if she would have complained if they had been in the salon, rather than Two-Bit’s kitchen.

“Thanks Evie, you’ve saved me!” Two-Bit gleefully said as she mentally prepared herself.

“Yeah well, maybe you oughta think twice ‘fore you spend your sister’s hair money on beer and night out with your girlfriend!”

Two-Bit cheerfully shrugged. “I could do that, but where would the fun be in that? Anyway, you’re a hairdresser, aren’t you? Why shouldn’t I ask you?”

“I’m only a trainee,” Evie exclaimed dolefully as she examined Peggy’s hair. She wished her boss was with her to supervise her. Even if she didn’t need advice, the presence of someone who actually knew what she was doing would have been a great comfort to her. She didn’t want to tell anybody that she was a nervous hairdresser despite her general self-confidence.

”So what do you want, hon?” Evie asked, as ready as she ever would be.

“Just a trim, Evie, I’m growin’ it.”

“I’ll take a couple of centimetres off, maybe an inch tops? Not much though, just enough to get keep your hair healthy,” she explained, carefully running a wet comb through her hair.

“No problem,” Peggy said in a cheerful tone, but Evie noticed the glare that Two-Bit was receiving reflected in the window.

“Y’know, it’s far easier now,” Evie commented as she began to delicately cut Peggy’s hair.

“What is? Cuttin’ someone’s hair?” Two-Bit casually replied with a grin as he leaned against the kitchen wall.

“Please don’t say things like this when you’re cutting my hair!” Peggy squealed, recoiling slightly from Evie’s scissors.

“Watch it, Peggy, I got the scissors remember!” Evie curtly said, before returning to her conversation with Two-Bit. “I meant with Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like I’m starting to get used to it. Anyway, I think now I’m more worried for the Vietnamese!” she joked, avoiding Two-Bit’s eyes in case he chose to interrogate her view further.

“Why?” Peggy asked slowly, as though people of inferior intelligence surrounded her.

“A guy like Steve, he’s angry and impulsive enough to be a real danger,” Two-Bit said before pausing. “Plus he will use all their hair grease up at any rate!”

“I don’t think-” Evie began but stopped herself, she wanted to enjoy the joke and separate the reality that she knew he would have little hair to grease in Vietnam. Besides, from the look Two-Bit was giving her he knew exactly what was really going on. Evie was tired of feeling negative, it was pointless and draining. On the North side of Tulsa everybody knew that focusing on how awful you felt or succumbing to a depression had no point, because everyone around you seemed to feel it at some point. If you were to let everything that could be upsetting or bad to get to you, then you would never have the chance to be happy.

Part of the reason she had accepted Two-Bit’s plea to help with Peggy’s hair was not just the obligation to stick together with her peers and her boyfriend’s friends, but she had a strong desire to be around people who would make her laugh. Laughter, they said, was the best remedy for whatever was going on around you.

-------------------

Darry opened the front door, barely able to stifle a yawn. It was Saturday evening and he had just finished his shift at the local warehouse he worked as a security guard in. There were only problems there occasionally, but the boss felt that one sight of Darry --an ex-football player, roofer and someone who regularly frequented the gym --was a good enough deterrent to stop any potential situations. It bought $1.75 an hour to his home though, and that was the main reason he continued with the extra job despite the fact he was certain it was not good for him. Besides, he only would have to do it until Pony went to college.

Soda was lying on the sofa sleeping. Darry knew when Soda didn’t go out he would usually be waiting for him to get home from work.

Darry leaned over the teenager “Hey, Soda, wake up,” he whispered, before picking up the day’s mail that until that point he had avoided.

Bills, bills, a second notice that Darry put in an ‘urgent’ pile, a letter from Darry’s friends inviting him up skiing in three weeks and two letters for Soda.

“You’ve got mail, kiddo,” Darry told the groggy eighteen year old who slowly extended his right hand to receive the letters.

“Did you go out at all?” Darry asked.

“Yeah, I-”

“Keep it down, yeah?” he softly said. “I don’t want Pony waking up.”

“He ain’t a baby Darry.” Soda replied in an equally soft voice,

“I know, I know. Still it’s gettin’ on for two am,” Darry said, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Anyway, I did go out,” Soda continued, examining one envelope and turning it around with his hands.

“Did you got out with Barbara?” Darry asked.

“No, it was … um … Alice.”

“Alice?” Darry asked with a sly grin.

“Yeah, she’s a doll,” he mumbled.

“And what about-”

“Her name was Alice, it was always Alice,” Soda flatly said hiding a smile. Darry shrugged in response and Soda laughed. “Where did you get Barbara from, Darry?”

Darry crossed his arms. “Hey, you try-”

“I ain’t starting, Darry. Hell, half the time I’m amazed that you can even remember I have a girlfriend,” Soda quickly and honestly said.

Darry nodded, satisfied, and unfolded his arms as he continued to flick through the mail. All he ever seemed to get now was bills, or the very occasional but happily received letter from an old pal asking him skiing. When he looked up Soda had stopped laughing and was now staring at a piece of paper with a pale face.

“What is it?” he asked. Soda looked up, then sat up and handed Darry the letter.

“You better read it,” Soda deliberately said.

“No,” Darry sighed, reading the letter carefully, searching for a loophole “we can talk to Social Services or something, the government-”

“I’ll be of age; they’re going to do it Dar, they’re gonna do it. It don’t matter to them about you wanting me here for the extra money-”

“I don’t want you here just for your money,” he said softly. “I do not want you in that fight. I do not want you to be in Vietnam.” He could not risk losing Soda, he had already lost his parents.

“Well, it looks like I can’t get out of it.” Soda paused thoughtfully. “Maybe they won’t send me to ‘nam, maybe they will let me work on cars around here. I don’t know, Darry.”

“Yeah,” Darry swallowed, now it seemed that Soda had been drafted as well now. He hoped that he wouldn’t go to Vietnam, so he took Soda’s suggestion and twisted it into fact in his mind as he ignored the vibes and the nagging sensations in his mind. Soda would not be fighting, he would not be fighting.