Soc Prologue

Josefina703

A/N at bottom.. you might be confused ^_^

When I pulled the handle on the door of the corvette, I only had two things on my mind: Elvis Presley and the sunset.

I took a deep breath and walked down the street, my red madras t-shirt fluttering behind me in the warm summer wind.

It was almost summer in Tallis, a small city outside of New York, East side to West.

My name is Luke. Lucas Elliot Hanson the second. Nothing special about me- no siblings, two parents, average grades in school. I have blonde hair and green eyes with some gray fleks in them. You'll usually find me in an unbuttoned madra with sharp looking shirts, kicks, and my gold watch. I think I'm a good-looking kid, or so the girls tell me, but I know I'm not as good-looking as my friends.I ran my hand through my darkish brown medium length curly hair and nibble on my lower lip from habit.

The East side park was pretty jake; it overlooked the lake from the top of the hill, where a bench sat. The bad thing was it was in greaser territory. If I would be caught around these parts of town alone, I would get copped out and everyone and their mother would come running just to get their knuckles in my face.

I am a soc. I'm not so sure how to spell it, but its the abbreviation for social I guess. Or the jet-set. Or the East-side rich kids. It's like the term "greaser" which is the word that defines the kids living in the West side. We're richer than them and the middle class, and we're more fun, too. Not like the greasers who beat up socs and have gang fights and steal things, or mug and kill people for fun. Socs are almost like college kids partying every week and wrecking houses and doing drugs. I'm not saying I'm like that, though. My parents (although they could care less) would probably ship me off to a boys reform school or something, so I like to stay out of trouble as often as I can, but we can give a lot to get out of it. Us and them; we're different. They like leather jackets and jeans, we like cotton shirts and fabric pants. They like their hair long and unwashed, we liked ours tamed and cleaned. I'm not saying one is better than the other, you dig? We just have our differences.

Anyway, I lit a weed and look out on the distance. Pulling my ray-bans up onto my head I could see with full color the golden ball that melts on the horizon every day and the same gold that rose again every morning. It was amazing to me, how it would rise and fall.

That's right, I dig sunsets. Now lay off.

I like chilling in the park, too. Even if it meant i might get into a bit of trouble because it was greaser territory.

I closed my eyes and leaned up against my favorite tree in the park, the one with the branch coming out at around head level so a good sized guy like me could rest his head on it. I thought about how weird it was for my green eyes to even see the gold melt on the horizon. Green and yellow makes blue, so shouldn't it be blue to me?

My eyes widened and my heart began pumping fast.

"Hey, I found one! I found a socie!"

I knew there were greasers that've been watching me.

Regrets swarmed my head; I could have taken Toni and the boys, or even Rose. She knew how to fight.. I just had a thing about knowing things before they happened, but that doesn't really help me much in this situation.

Laughter of several tough voices drained the silence and the darkness of the night seemed to get darker.

But you can't just get a sunset like this in my neighborhood. It's just perfect here how the sun looks like it falls into the lake. Or maybe I'm just a dope for digging the little things.

"Hey socy, I like your ma-dra. Where's the rest of the checkered club?"

The others crack up, and I reached for the switchblade I kept in my right pocket.

It wasn't there.

I looked at them, four pairs of eyes staring in glee, excitement, contempt, and hatred. I decided that there were four characters in this hoodlum gang: the funny guy, the good looker, the reckless one, and the tough guy.

I got up, moving backwards and slowly raising my hands face level, so they could see I was unarmed.

They didn't care one bit, those same dirty looks didn't change.

The funny guy had a mouth. And a switchblade.

"Hey, lookat them pants! You waiting for a flood, socie?"

I could see his long sideburns and smiling, grey eyes through the last ounces of light the sunset provided.

The gang laughed for a bit and I back away faster, quickly turning my head back.

"Thinking of running, wimp?" The reckless one said, spinning a chain in his hand. Cold blue eyes and long dark hair was what I had to judge off of his personality. I guessed he went to jail alot, by instinct and the feeling I've seen him before on the streets in New York.

My eyes glue onto the spinning chain and I turn to run.

I bolted out of there, but I heard those greasers chasing me.

"We'll get you, Soc!" The tough guy yelled, and the good looker hollered, sounding near out of breath,"I should've got my kid brother to chase after this kid!"

I jumped into my car and sped off towards the hills. Track team sure did pay off, and I thanked my lucky stars.

I flip on some tunes and the king comes on.

Elvis, man.

Sometimes I wish I could sing just as good and be as movie star looking like him. He was my idol; even though I only know he liked peanut butter banana sandwiches and sung pretty Jake. Other Socs wouldn't approve of him, but I didn't really care. If there's one thing you should know about me is that I love music. The Beatles, The Monkees, The Mama's and the Papa's, The Beach Boys... The almost everything.

After about twenty minutes of driving, I took a big frustrated sigh and turned onto my street. 985 Oak street, East Tallis. Practically a shell like the other shells in the neighborhood.

A red Bel air sat cold in the garage right next to a black Pontiac. What a shame they were hardly used.

I opened the front door and slammed it behind me as I walked in. "I'm home!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Home sweet home. More like an abandoned studio. I took big sigh and fell onto the couch in the sitting room.

My house was big. That's all you really need to know, I guess. You could say it was the opposite of warmth; a cold, abandoned hole. Like I said, I was an only child. My parents were either out partying or business trips or vacations or at home, hungover.

I rolled my eyes sarcastically at the thought and look up to see the chandelier twinkle from the lights I flipped on. Then I look to the note on the coffee table.

'Lukas,

Take care! Off to Vegas!

Love,

Mom and Pop'

I sighed and shake my head as I grab the note and squeeze it in my hand, like I was in a trance. This was a routinely thing. Mom and Pop leave for a business meeting. Mom and Pop leave for a party out of town. Mom and Pop leave for a vacation.

I hardly know my own Mom and Pop.

"Tears are forming in my eyes, I'm so touched by that heartfelt message." I shout sarcastically, but nobody hears me. I don't care. I mean, I guess I don't. I try not to because what does caring for something you can't fix going to bring you? Not much, just hurt feelings in the long-run.

But maybe it's just me.

Hello people! All these characters in Soc Prologue are OC's, you'll see the gang from Outsiders in my other story, Soc. ( not posted yet _ )

Luke won't be the protagonist in the future stories, Rose is. This is his side... and a little background.. YOU'LL SEE YOU'LL SEE