Scum. Dirty. Rotten. Juvinile Deliquents. Those words go through most of everyones mind when you look at a Greaser.
My name is Stanley B. Phelps, but everyone calls me Buddy, since it's my middle name, my age is 16, I'm from Bowling Green,Kentucky and just moved to Tulsa,Oklahoma.I am a Greaser,my family is very poor, thats what separates me from a "Soc", we didn't call the rich kids Socs in Bowling Green, they didn't have nick names where I came from. I also didn't know how brutal those people can be,I learned that this summer. This is the Tale of my summer and how I learned everyone can have the power to do good and bad things.

It was night time. Dark. I didn't know this was a dangerous time for a Greaser. I was alone, bladeless, nothing to protect myself from. In Bowling Green I never used weapons ? Because I didn't need to, my fist were my weapons. The Socs never used them either, everything was a fair fight. Anyways I was walking and heard a loud car noise come behind me. I saw a newly polished yellow Mustang Convertible. The head lights shined on my face, making me as blind as a bat. Three short haired teenagers, probably 17 or 18, jumped out of their cars.

"Look at the new Greaser in town." said the Brown haired Soc to his friends.

"We know exactly what to do with you." said a Blonde haired Soc What the Hell was going on? Things like this never happened to me in Bowling I made a run for it.

I was running faster than when a kid is running away refusing to take a bath. One of the Socs must've caught me.

"We'll fix you right up Greaser." said the Brown haired Soc,struggling to keep me from blonde haired Soc punched me square in the face and thats when I screemed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,HELP!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Keep him quiet!" said one of the Socs as the blonde Soc put his mouth over browned haired Soc pulled his blade out and started to cut down my left cheek. I yelled into the Soc's hand.

I heared feet running on the sidewalk, and heared people yelling "YOU FILTHY SOCS!"

Finally, the Socs ran to their Mustang and drove into the night.

"Are you ok?" Some blonde haired Greaser with dark reddish roots asked. "Whats your name? I'm Ponyboy Curtis" "Stanley." I told Ponyboy. "But call me Buddy it's my middle name. And yes I'm ok."

"You really should carry a blade with you at all times Buddy" said Ponyboy as he gave me a rag to wipe off the blood on my cheeks.

"Where I'm from we don't carry blades, we use our fist." I told Ponyboy. "You guys said something about Socs, what are Socs?" "Socs are the rich kids of town, they jump greasers for fun." Ponyboy told me.

"We don't call the rich kids that where I come from." I told Ponyboy. "They don't jump us either unless it's personal."

"Well get used to it pal,your in Tulsa now." He said. "ohh and here." As he said this he tossed me a blade. "it's my old one,keep it,See ya around." He said.

That was the first of my troubles with the Socs