I was silent the whole trip there, staring out of my window and just wishing that I was back home, back to the family we used to be. Tulsa was such a small place compared to where I grew up in New York. Although they had their similarities- like the rumbles -even though NY's were much worse. You could say that Tulsa, Oklahoma was a mini-New York; they both had the same type of people.
My older brother, Ethan, sighed, "Ez, you haven't said a word this entire trip. C'mon and say somethin'," he pleaded, taking his hands off of the wheel for a split second.
I turned to him, "I'm just nervous for what bull there'll be in Tulsa. What it'll be like. Heard it ain't as tough as New York, but it's different." That was true, I was super curious, but it was mostly about how school would be. If I'd have any friends, it would be better.
"No, Esra," I mentally slapped myself, "don't start thinking about school yet." I cursed under my breath, "Don't fuckin' think about it; it's only the beginning of summer."
Apparently at some point in my stressing I had fallen asleep because I was suddenly awaken by Ethan announcing loudly, "We're here."
When I opened my eyes, we were driving past a bunch of old, run-down looking houses and my eyes fell on a group of guys who looked to be around my age- sixteen going-on seventeen -sitting on the sidewalk smoking. There were about five of them, and they all wore jean or leather jackets, blue jeans, and had their hair slicked back. I recognized what they were instantly- Greasers. This place was beginning to feel a Hell lotta more like New York.
Ethan pulled into the driveway of one of the run-down looking houses about a block away from where those hoods were chilling and got out of the car. I sat there, clearly dumbfounded, this house was actually better than the house me and Ethan lived in when Dad left us stranded on the streets.
I got out of the car and went over to the front door of the house before turning to my brother, who was un-packing boxes out of the car, "This ours?" I asked with wide eyes.
He looked up, "Yeah, isn't it somethin'?" His blonde locks flopped in front of his eyes, my brother was quite handsome. Ha had bright blue eyes, blonde greased hair, and a strong build. He always carried a 7-inch switchblade in his back pocket. Before, in New York, he used to carry around his switch and a heater. You pretty much always had to. He made me carry one, too. A switch, I mean, he wouldn't trust me with a gun.
My hair wasn't greasy, it was never greasy. Since I'm female I never had to have it greasy. It was blonde, too, but darker. I also had blue eyes that seemed to change shade depending on what mood I was in.
"Ya know you could help me here instead of day-dreamin'," Ethan stated, snapping me out of it. He was carrying two big boxes from the car and was struggling with the door. I ran up to him.
"Sorry," I mumbled, opening the door for him. He walked in and placed the two boxes in the middle of the floor- more like dropped them -then he stalked past me cussing to himself while taking out a weed and lighting it. He took a couple of drags before stomping it out and heading over to our black Mustang.
Yeah, we did have a pretty tuff car for Greasers. Our 'Stang was not the type of car you generally saw people like us driving, but it's all Dad left us with. What else could we use? For a while there we had to sleep in the 'Stang, until I learned to drive it. Then we had to find somewhere else to live, NY was getting too bad, we couldn't be living on the streets anymore. We would have been killed.
I grabbed a box from the pile Ethan was making and took it inside, it was marked "FAMILY" on the side in big, bold printing. I rushed to put it down before the tears started blurring my vision. I missed the family we used to be, before Melanie came along and tore us apart with her greed and hatred. Our lives used to be perfect.
After Ethan and I got all of our boxes inside, we slumped down on the floor, "The movin' truck'll be here by seven. Then we'll get our furniture in," Ethan said, looking around what was supposed to be the living room... I think.
"Alright, cool," I told him, getting up to explore our new house. "Oh, I think I forgot my switch in the car. Would ya mind gettin' it for me? I still don't trust this place much."
Ethan rolled his eyes before getting up and silently walked out to the car. I went and sat on the staircase waiting for him to come back.
"Well looky here," I heard an unfamiliar voice say, "looks like we got ourselves new hoods."
"Please God; don't let it be a Soc," I thought, standing up.
"When'd y'all get here?" Another voice asked, by this time I was standing in the doorway, contemplating whether I should intervene. It wasn't any Socs; it was just the group of hoods I saw earlier when we drove past.
"About an hour and a half ago," Ethan answered. Had it really been almost two hours already?
I decided to intervene, these guys seemed pretty decent. More than decent, actually. A couple of them were dolls. When I walked out they all looked up at me.
"Oh, hey Ez! Here's your blade." He was leaning up against the hood of our car talking to the five guys and smoking. He waved my switch around.
"And who's this little lady?" The one with the blond-ish hair said. He was polishing off a black handled switchblade, "She looks like your mini-me. Shoot, she's something'." I stood there as the guys eyed me up and down.
I took my blade and put it in the back pocket of my leather pants, "I'm his sister," I told them, pointing to Ethan, "Esra. And y'all are...?"
"They call me Two-Bit," the one with the black switch that he seemed to admire so much said, "that's Johnny, Steve, Sodapop, and Ponyboy," he pointed to each guy and they all waved or said "hi" as he did.
"Where'd you move here from?" Sodapop asked. Odd name, but I liked it. You definitely wouldn't get that in New York.
"New York," I stated, pulling a weed out of my brother's pocket and lighting it. The boys exchanged glances.
"So is our friend, Dallas. Dallas Winston," Johnny told us.
"Dallas Winston. That sure does ring a bell. I'm sure I read it in the paper one time, boy, he must've had a police record a mile long," I thought.
They must've known I was thinking, because Steve suggested, "You wanna meet him? He told us he'd be up at Buck's. We were just on our way there now."
I looked longingly at Ethan, who had been in a detailed conversation with Ponyboy the whole time, "Hey, Ethan, can I go hang out with these boys?" He looked at me, and then at them, and then at the pocket where I kept my blade.
"Yeah, sure. Be back by 7:30. We need to un-pack."
We started walking, "Dallas Winston, eh? Yeah, I've heard of him. He must have wonderful memories with the fuzz," I said.
Johnny looked up, "Everybody's heard of Dally," he said, elbowing Ponyboy. The rest of the guys nodded.
"So how old are ya, Blondie?" Two-Bit asked, stomping out his cigarette butt.
"I'll be seventeen in four days," I told him, Sodapop instantly became interested, "and my brother's just only nineteen."
"I'm almost seventeen, too," Sodapop started, "and Two-Bit's eighteen, Steve's seventeen, Johnny's sixteen, and lil' Pony's only fourteen." He grabbed Ponyboy into a headlock and started giving him a nuggie.
"Dal's only seventeen, but he seems older," Steve stated.
When Ponyboy finally shook off Sodapop he added, "Yeah, and we have an older brother named Darry who's twenty."
I looked at him, "We?" I asked. Were they all related?
He looked confused for a minute, before explaining, "Soda and I. We're brothers and our older brother takes care of us," He playfully punched Sodapop in the left shoulder. I should've known they were brothers, they both look awfully alike.
"This is Buck Merril's place. Dally crashes here a lot," Two-Bit nudged me; making me look at the big house we had stopped in front of. It had a lighted red sign above the door that read BUD.
The boys all walked in, showing me the way. When we got inside, there was a towheaded boy sitting on a chair at a table in the center of the room smoking. He looked up at us when we walked in.
"Hey, Dal. What's goin' on?" Johnny asked him.
Dallas took a drag on his cigarette, "Same old. What 'bout you, Johnnycake?"
Steve pushed me in front of him and put his hands on my shoulders, "New hoods just moved here from New York," Dallas instantly looked up the second New York was mentioned, "This is Esra."
Dallas' eyes fell on me, "What's a girl like you doin' and hangin' with these hoods?" He smiled at me, he was actually pretty attractive.
"Had nowhere else to live since my jackass of a father went and ran off with his bitch girlfriend and left my brother and I to fend for ourselves on the streets," the boys seemed all taken aback with my colourful vocabulary choices, "Heard you're quite familiar with N.Y."
He smiled at me again, "Shoot, you dig okay. For a girl."