I walked out in the slouching, careful way I always do, practically radiating the subordinance I've force myself into. My dad and his friends were lounging on the couches, smiling and laughing, until I walked in. One of them who was trying (but failing badly) to look Dave Grohl-esque his noticed me first, and stared at me in awe. "So this is your kid now?" He asked, staring at me. His eyes were coals, smoldering as they practically bored into my soul. I suddenly felt like a little kid again, being yelled at by a kid's mom for punching him, after he knocked my book out of my hand. 

"Yes, this is him now," My dad replied, standing up out of his chair, offering me the seat. I closed my eyes, shaking my head and sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

"Does she speak?" Asked one of them, who had purple and orange hair. 

"He," I corrected, looking up at him. "Does indeed speak. I am Enoch, although you probably know me as Emma."

The David Grohl impersonator chuckled. "Your daughter's a tranny? God, why haven't you beaten it out of her?" 

"Yo, dude, that's not cool," said the only one that hadn't spoken yet. He was younger than the other two, maybe only a couple years older than me, five at the most, I'd be willing to guess. 

"And why do you say that, Ponyboy?" He shot back. "Are you a faggot too?" 

"Can you fucking stop?" I finally said, slicing through the tension like I had a katana. "What's your problem with people who're different? Do they scare you or something? Or is it because of some deep-seated issues you have within yourself? Because it's not fucking okay to hate or mock people for who they are.  You get me?" I immediately bit my lip and began to cower, fearing he'd pummel me, even if my father was right there. 

The one he called "Ponyboy" looked at me with wide eyes. He did look like an Outsider, if we're being honest. Same denim jacket, black Converse, and dirty face. If I wasn't afraid of getting pummeled by either Grohl-clone, I would've tried to clean his face. As we made eye contact, and my dad forced Grohl-clone out the door, I began to zone out. Back to the panic room. Back to the cave. 

Johnny

When he stood up for himself, for the both of us, I honestly couldn't believe it. I've been told a lot of stories about this kid, hell, I've been told I'm the perfect contrast, but I never would've expected to meet him in person. But here I am, and he's zoning out, looks like he's about to- oh shit, he is. I catch him, just as Curtis gets Troy out the door.

Curtis and I made eye contact, and I resisted the urge to drop Enoch. Curtis locked the door, and gingerly took Enoch out of my hands, setting him on the couch. 

"You can really tell he's your kid," I stated, chuckling slightly. Curtis laughed with me, and grabbed us both another beer. We both looked at him, then looked at each other. "How is he gonna survive at the shop?" Curtis shrugged, and the silence settled in, feeling like the looming sense of mortality felt as you've grown older.