Switchblades and Cigarettes
Chapter One
Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders, they are the miraculous creation of SE Hinton.
It was that glorious summer between tenth grade and eleventh grade, and I had no idea that my life was about to get turned completely on its head.
"Moving!?" I questioned, astonished that my parents were even considering this.
"Yes, dear," my mother said in her usual calm tone. That really bugged me. I hated how her voice didn't change between saying we're moving and saying we're having spaghetti for dinner. "I'm afraid we have to."
"But why?" I asked, pleadingly.
"Because we simply don't have the money to keep the farm," she explained in that same annoyingly calm tone. "There is better work in Tulsa."
"But you can't make me leave!" I cried.
"We're going and that's final, young lady," my father said, sternly. "End of discussion."
I groaned loudly and stomped my way up the stairs to my bedroom. "I'm not going!" I yelled down the steps before slamming my door shut.
I leaned back against my door and stared out the window into the night. It was too dark out to be able to see the field of a back yard we had, but I could hear the corn stocks rustling with each gust of wind. I sighed. This wasn't fair.
Windrixville was a small town just over three hours away from Tulsa. Much too far to be able to take a daily trip back to see my home or my friends. All my life people had told me that there would come a time when I wouldn't be as close to those that I've grown up with. I'd never believed them until that moment. Is that what was going to happen?
I walked over to my window and opened it enough for me to be able to slip out. I took a few light steps on the flat roof and then climbed down the big oak tree that stood beside our porch. This wasn't the first time I'd snuck out.
My feet hit the ground and I was met by the brisk night air. I took a deep breath, catching the familiar scent of the only home I'd ever known. I slowly began to walk towards the field of corn that had always been my family's source of income. When I reached the great stocks I began to run.
Soon I was imaging myself as a bird, flying high above the world, not having to worry about the many problems in my life, however trivial they may have been. I'm not sure how long I ran for, but I soon tripped and found myself on the ground. Instead of getting up, I rolled onto my back and stared at the stars.
There were so many of them and laying there watching them made me feel as though I was very small, very insignificant. It was comforting in a way, to know that there was something bigger out there, somewhere.
As I stared at the night sky I suddenly remembered another time that I'd looked to the stars for comfort. It had been my eighth grade end of the year trip. We had gone to spend a weekend in Oklahoma City. It was the first time I had ever been away from home for more than just a night and I was missing it very much. I had gone out onto the balcony of my hotel room and looked into the vast expanse of sky above me. I was deeply saddened when I saw much less stars than I did when I was at home. It had something to do with all the lights on the street.
Suddenly, I wondered if I would be able to see the stars in Tulsa. I decided to take a mental picture of what this night's sky looked like, just in case. As I studied the stars, trying to memorize them, that feeling of comfort returned, telling me that there was something bigger out there, telling me that it lay in the streets of Tulsa.