Chapter1: Paul Newman and a Ride Home
When Ponyboy and I stepped out of the theater into the chilly afternoon air, we had two things on our minds. Paul Newman, and a ride home. We had debated on whether we should've waited for Soda or Darry, Ponyboys brothers, to pick us up, but they wouldn't get off work for another few hours. So we decided to enjoy ourselves and walk. The wind blew was heavy, and making it seem a lot colder than it was. I pulled my jean jacket collar up and pulled it closer on me. I looked at Ponyboy, the wind whipped strands of his hair around and they danced wildly around his head. His cheeks were bright red. Ponyboy had light brown, almost red hair, and green eyes. His eyes were gorgeous. I told them that the green was pretty, he would argue with me and tell me his eyes were grey. He hates green eyes. Ponyboy wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. Different from everyone really. He dug sunsets, and loved books. Our outfit thought he was nuts. But I thought differently, and so did Johnny Cade. He was 14 years old and my best friend.
I was the youngest, and the only girl the gang hung out with. 14 years old but 2 months younger than Ponyboy. They called me Baby, because I was so young. I was tall, thin, and built. My face was kind, soft, my expression never serious. My blonde hair hung down on my shoulders, and curled at the ends. My eyes were sea blue. I wore jean jackets most of the time, they matched my eyes and sort of just fit. I like wearing my jean jacket, and my worn out white converse. I was considered a Greaser. I didn't slick back my hair, or lift stuff from stores, or carry around a blade. But I was considered one. 14 years in this town, you can get jumped a whole lot. I'm very paranoid. On my neck, I carry an apple green stone, and a gold ring with a little gold heart on it. The stone was my birthstone, August, and the ring was a baby ring my mother had given me when I turned 2. She died when I was 3.
We had passed about three blocks already when I spotted a red Corvair out of the corner of my eye. "Ponyboy.." I said quietly. He looked at me and I jerked my head to the left. His eyes traveled from me to the car, then shot back ahead. "What do we do?" he said. We tried to seem like we had never seen the Corvair. "Just stay cool." I said, as I flipped up my jean jacket collar. Ponyboy took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a draw from it. The Corvair kept following us, stalking us. We were going to get jumped. I started to get nervous. I could use my fists, and if it got to serious, I could run. Ponyboy and I were both on track. But anything could happen.
Glancing around for a broken bottle, or a stick, I found nothing. I heard the engine of the Corvair rev up, and it pulled up to us. Five, very tall, very tough, 17 or 18 year olds got out and circled around us. Each one of them in either a madras t-shirt, or a sports jacket. Socs. They grinned at us devilishly, as if planning something sinister.
"Hey Greasers." one said. He had sandy blonde hair. "We're gonna do you a nice big favor. We're gonna cut off all your long, greasy hair!".
I tried to look like I really could care less, but inside I was scared. I glanced over at Ponyboy, his eyes darted from the ground to the Soc.
Blondie nodded to shorter one with black hair. He smiled, nodded back, and pulled out his blade. I was speechless as I watched the blade glimmer in the sunlight.
"Need a haircut, Greasers?" he asked. I backed away slowly, step by step.
"No.." Ponyboy said.
I realized then, they was no one behind us. My first and only thought... RUN!
I took off, full force down the pavement. Ponyboy followed in close pursuit. Heavy footsteps raced after us. I thought "If only we could make it to Ponys... We'd be safe!".
Honestly, I thought we were already safe. Being lighter than the Socs, I thought we could lose them.
I was wrong. A few minutes of running, and the Socs got us. They tackled Ponyboy and I. I banged my head on the sidewalk...Ow.
"Little runaways huh? Scared?" the guy on me said.
"Hardly!" I said. He was heavy, I wished I could've just suffocated.
He slugged me in the cheek. My head snapped back. To the left of me, four Socs had Ponyboy. They were shoving a handkerchieff into his mouth, a knife held closely to his neck.
"Ponyboy!" I yelled.
Don't kill him.. Please don't let them kill him.
I got slugged again. I yelled. One guy tried to cover my mouth with his hand, I bit him. He jumped back and cursed at me.
"Sodapop! Darry!" I yelled. I tried to wriggle out of the Soc on me. It almost worked. I got slugged again, and again. This time in the eye. I didn't have any hope left, they were overpowering us. Two skinny 14 year olds trying to defeat 18 year old boys. Fat chance.
I suddenly heard shouts. The guy on me shot up. Twisting my head back, I saw six men running for us. The Socs took off running. I scrambled up, my chest throbbing and aching. I tripped and fell. Ponyboy lay unconscious next to me. I looked up, now hurting even more. I recognized the six men. Then someone hauled Ponyboy up. Darry, Ponyboys oldest brother, started shaking Ponyboy. He's rough with Pony, without meaning to.
"Are you okay, Ponyboy?" he asked.
"I'm okay, Darry, I'm okay. Quit shaking me!" Pony said. Darry stopped. "I'm sorry.".
Darry was six feet two and very muscular. He has dark brown hair and a cowlick that hangs on his forehead. His eyes were like pieces of blue ice. They were cold and determined looking. He was a spitting image of Ponyboys father.
Ponyboy sat down and rubbed his cheek. I got and sat next to him. A big, black and blue, bruise lay on his cheek.
Darry jammed his fists into his pockets. "They didn't hurt ya'al to bad did they?".
I wanted to say "What d' you think?". Ponyboy almost got his throat cut, I almost got suffocated [stupid fat Soc]. Seriously, how do you think we felt? But I knew better than to mouth off.
"I'm okay." I said.
Sodapop came loping back to us. He dropped besides Ponyboy, examining his head.
"Got cut up a little, huh?" he said.
Ponyboy looked confused., "I did?" he asked.
Pulling out a handkerchief and wetting the end of it, he pressed it on the side of Ponys head and showed him the red liquid. "Bleedin' like a stuck pig." he said.
"I am?".
"Look!" Soda said. "Did they pull the blade on you?".
I remembered the voice.
"Need a haircut, Greasers?"
"Yeah." I said.
Sodas eyes were filled with worry. He's handsomer than anyone I know. Not like Darry, who's hard and tough. Soda's like a movie star. The kind of guy you stop to stare at. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's slim. Somehow he manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time. He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back, long a silky. In the summer it bleaches blonde. His eyes were like Ponyboys, kind, gentle, and sympathetic.
Soda turned around and got a good look at me. My eyes shot to the ground. I felt like crying, and was shaking like a leaf.
"Easy, Baby, easy." he soothed. "They aint gonna hurt you no more.".
"I-I know.." the ground blurred. Hot tears ran from my eyes. "I'm just scared that's all." I took a deep breath and quit crying. I didn't like to cry in front of Darry. I really could only cry in front of Ponyboy, and Johnny. You just don't cry in front of Darry. Unless you're hurt like Johnny the day we found him in the vacant lot. Compared to Johnny I wasn't hurt at all.
"You're an okay kid." he grinned. I had to grin back.
"You're out of your mind, Soda." Ponyboy joked.
"You're both nuts." Darry said. Soda smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "Seems to run in the family.". I know this sounds weird, but Darry seemed to like being teased by Sodapop.
Our gang had chased the Socs back to their car and had thrown rocks at them. They all came back to us. Four lean, hard guys, tough as nails. I'd grown up with them, and they accepted me even though I was so young.
Steve Randle was seventeen, but acted my age. He was real goofy. Cocky, smart, and Sodas best friend since forever ago. His hair was heavily greased. HIs only specialty was cars. He knew cars inside and out, backwards and forwards. He could lift a hubcap faster than you can bat an eye. He and Soda worked at the gas station. Steve didn't like Ponyboy, he thought he was a little tag along. Odd enough, he liked me, even though I was younger than Ponyboy. One of those mysteries you think about your whole life, but never figure out.
Two-bit Matthews was the oldest and the funniest. I liked him a whole lot. He's about six feet tall with rusty colored hair. He had stormy gray eyes, and a wide grin. You could never shut him up. He always made wisecracks to everyone. Just had to get his two-bit in, hence his name. He was famous for his black-handled switchblade which was a prize from walking aimlessly around a hardware store for a few hours. It was hard not to smile when Two-bit walked by.
The real character of the group was Dallas Winston... Dally. I remember Ponyboy, when were younger, would draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood. I used to laugh at the sight of Dally with steam coming from his ears, his face bright as a tomato. He was thin but built. His hair was brown and fell in front of his forehead in little strands. His eyes were blue, filled with a hatred for everything that lived on the planet. He came from New York, the wild side of New York, and had gotten arrested at 10. He was the toughest of us. The meanest, and the coldest. He had a reputation, and not the kind of one I'd be proud to have. He cheated, stole, drank, lied, rode in rodeos, jumped kids. I didn't like him, but at the same time, I admired him. You kind of had to respect him.
Johnny Cade was last, but not least... To me at least. If you can picture a little dark puppy that's been kicked a few too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, you'll have Johnny. He was older than Ponyboy, 16 years. But he was smaller than Pony, and skinny. His skin was tan, his eyes big and black. His hair was jet-black and heavily greased, but it hung in front of his eyes. He has this nervous look in his eyes, and that beating from the Socs didn't help. He was the pet, along with me, being so puny compared to the others. His dad always beat him, his mother ignored him unless she was mad. Then she took all her anger out on Johnnycake. You could hear her yelling a mile away. He wouldn't have run away a million times if we hadn't been there for him. Without us, Johnny would've never known what love and affection was.
I compared myself most to Johnny. Paranoid, nervous, scared all the time. I used to have loving parents. Then my mother died in a car wreck, my dad started becoming an alcoholic. And when he drank, he got angry, and when he got angry, he started hitting. I didn't like going home, because I knew my dad would be drinking himself into oblivion. He wasn't like that before. He used to be handsome, and soft and loving. It seemed like I had a totally different dad then what I had before.
I wiped my eyes. "Didya catch 'em?" I asked.
"Nah, got away. The dirt ..." Two-bit went along, cheerfully calling the Socs every word in the book.
"Kids okay?" Steve asked.
"I'm alright." Ponyboy said, then changed the subject. "Didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally." .
"Got off early.. Good behavior." Dally took a draw out of his cigarette. Everyone sat down to have a light. Everyone smoked but me. Once I'd tried, nearly choked to death. I didn't as much mind the boys having one, they were used to it. Most of them started when they were real young.
"Nice lookin' bruise you got there, kid." Two-bit said.
"Really?" Ponyboy said.
"Yeah, makes you look tough." he said.
Tough and tuff are two different things. Tough is like strong. Tuff is like sharp or cool. Like we thought Elvis was tough, but the Beatles are tuff.
"Soo what were ya'al doing, walking all by yourselves?" Steve asked.
"We were walkin' home from the movies." I said.
"Yeah, I didn't think.." Ponyboy said.
"You never think." Darry interrupted.
Oh brother...
"Not at home, not anywhere where it matters. You must think at school, with all those good grades. You've always got your nose in a book, but you never use your head for common sense. And if you did have to go, you should've carried a blade." Darry scolded.
Ponyboy looked down. Darry and him just didn't dig each other. Darry was real hard on him. If Ponyboy would've carried a blade, Darry would've hollered at him for carrying one.
Soda shot daggers. "Lay off, Darry. Aint his fault he likes to go to the movies. An' if he would've carried a blade, it would've given them Socs another reason to cut him to pieces.".
"Next time I want my kid brother to tell me how to raise my other kid brother, I'll ask you...Kid brother." Darry said. Normally Darry stopped once Soda told him to.
"Next time, ya'al just bring one of us along." Two-bit said. "Any of us will come.".
Silence fell on us. "Well I'd best be leaving." I said and was about to get up.
"Wait a minute. I'm gonna walk over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night, gonna hunt up some action. Anyone wanna come?" Dally asked.
"Me and Soda are pickin' up Evie and Sandy." Steve shook his head.
Darry sighed. "I've got work tomorrow.". He never has time for anything anymore.
"Two-bit? Johnny, you and Ponyboy and Baby wanna come?" Dally said.
"Sure, we'll come." I said.
"I'm planning on getting ripped tomorrow. But if I don't I'll come and find you guys." Two-bit said.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow then." I said.
"You gonna be okay?" Soda asked.
"I'll be fine. Dad's probably passed out in a chair. If he causes me any trouble, I'll run to you guys." I said.
Darry nodded and smiled at me.
Getting up, I flipped up my collar, jammed my fists into my pockets, and walked home.
I creaked the door open to my house. I didn't hear anything but the TV. I tiptoed inside and to the living room. My dad was asleep alright, his mouth hanging open. A half full bottle of whiskey in his hand.
I sighed a heavy sigh. Normally if I would've come home, he would yell and hit. I thought of Darry, he hollers at Ponyboy because he's scared and worried about him. I wondered if my dad cared about me, and that's why he hit. But then I thought of Johnny, his dad hits him and thinks nothing of it. He hates Johnny.
I sighed once more and went upstairs. I'd have to get out early tomorrow if I wanted to beat my dad.