I DO NOT OWN OUTSIDERS IT BELONGS TO S.E HINTON (as if you didn't know already)

Through A Different Perspective

Chapter One "Witness"

I was that bookworm you would find at the corner of each classroom. And I still am; you could say that, I suppose. But lately, I've found myself looking at the people at my school: observing them like animals; I was a tomboyish bookish girl, unlike all those girls in my school. With their long skirts, rose colored faces covered in makeup and boyfriends with countless of rings. I was always comparing the groups, y'know the socs and greasers. Lucky ones with all the perks and the long haired greased up JDs.

I was a fifteen year old girl who couldn't be associated with either group. I mean I lived in the same neighborhood of greasers but my house; no my parents' house screamed out soc. My folks liked to show off and say that even in this "horrible" location that they were the best, or something like that.

Oh just so you know, I had just moved from New York, my parents said that wanted somewhere low-key and cheap, it's strange because they're the ones complaining about this place when they were the ones who had decided to move here. I on the other hand, really didn't mind Tulsa, Oklahoma; this place is nice; I can see the sunsets real good from the Northside.

I always walk home passing greasers and socs beating each other at some public place. At first I was scared to death; I never realized that Tulsa could get so violent. But I lived in New York, I got used to the fights fast. Sometimes I get tired of socs jumping greasers for no apparent reason, I know that people have their own problems, but that doesn't give any rights to socs to beat greasers just because they decided to get drunk one night. And I have a good reason to think that way.

If you were wondering, the name's Rory Jewels. I got choppy ash-brown hair that barely reaches below my shoulders, my skin is somewhere between fair and sun kissed. But I could never say my skin is sun kissed hah! I usually wear glasses, because I'm always reading something. If I'm not I don't have these glasses on my face. I don't wear skirts, it's not that I hate them; it's just not my style. I wear collared shirts, an oversized jackets, and jeans or shorts.

I got this huge fascination about motorcycles, in fact I got one myself. I taught myself how to drive it; my parents said it belonged to my older brother who I've never met. He must be someone I'd like because my folks said he got himself a house before he finished college and never visits. He probably hates them too, just like me. But enough about me, my whole perspective changed one day when I decided I wanted to take the long way home.

I just got back from the library; I didn't have any friends at this time so it was usual to find me walking by myself after reading a book. I was passing by yet another fight between socs and greasers, but this fight was something else. It actually made me stop and look; it was one of the most unfair fights I've ever seen. There was this tough looking mustang that drove up to a vacant lot with this small, dark haired boy with tan skin. A soc with multiple rings on his fingers just jumped him! I was in total shock, the soc was big and probably drunk just started to beat this poor kid! The fight was seriously one-sided; just plain unfair.

I just stood there like a statue; I was completely frozen.

That kid; he just laid there. There was so much blood; even where I was standing I could see the damage that was dealt. The mustang started to head my way and the guy rolled down his window. I just looked at him with this look of fright and disgust.

"Hey." He slurred with a bit of drool dripping down his mouth. "I know you saw that…You tell anyone about that stupid greaser trash, you're clean new kid reputation is gone, got that? Gone I tell you." He spat his words at me with his drunken accent.

I opened my mouth; the same look of disgust I had; trying to say anything to that soc. I was so angry and afraid of this boy; I wanted to punch him so hard for that bloody boy on the grass.

The guy didn't drive his mustang yet, he kept saying things like "No one cares about greasers" "You ain't gonna open your trap to anyone." I wanted to punch him with all my might everytime he opened his mouth.

"You're horrible." I managed to mutter, trying to sound threatening; but in the end I sounded scared and hopeless.

The soc laughed his head off, he was in hysterics and he looked at me once more.

"That's all you got to say?" He was holding his sides; I couldn't say anything so I just glared at him.

He drove off laughing at me. I looked back at that poor boy, wondering what I should do, if I could do anything at all. But I was new to the neighborhood; who could I possibly tell?

I ran to the kid, he was sure in bad shape. I took off my denim jacket to help his wounds stop bleeding. But I knew I couldn't save him like this, I had to find someone he knew. I stared at him, trying to recognize his face. My thoughts raced through my head as I clotted his chest with the jacket.

"Dal…Pony…Any…Body" the boy mumbled with his torn lips. His breathing was hoarse and he had his eyes closed. Then I realized he was talking about Ponyboy from my school! I laid him down on the grass racing for the nearest greaser I could find. All greasers in this place had to know eachother right? Someone's gotta know this guy!

I saw this one guy with a DX gas station shirt with light blonde hair; after running a bit. I shouted out "Hey!" he looked at me with a surprised look.

"Can I help you?" He raised his eyebrow scratching his head.

"Do…You know… A kid with dark hair… And tan skin?" I panted and coughed out the words "Looks fourteen? A greaser… I think." I breathed in and looked up.

"Yeah why?" He folded his arms. I could feel his curious stare.

"He's…In a vacant lot…Bleeding. He just got beat up by a soc! Real bad!" I shook my head and kept trying to catch my breath.

"Oh no…Johnny!" He ran off somewhere. I saw him dash away; I stood up straight, glad that that kid had people who cared. I said to myself while walking away from the gas station.

"Thank god."