Chapter 1: Hot, Sweaty, Murderer
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own "The Outsiders" or any of the Curtis' Gang. The real owner of "The Outsiders" is the best author ever, S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from the stories that I write on this site.
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Ponyboy's POV (November 22nd, 1966)
I wiped the sweat off of my forehead with the back of my hand and got back to my job. I thanked God for the hair gresw that kept my bangs off of my forehead, and for the decay that my auburn roots were beginning to show.
A few weeks after Johnny and Dally died I got a job at the local hardware store stocking the shelves. That was over a month ago.
It was brutally hot inside the store, and I couldn't even imagine being stuck working the roof of some fancy Social's house like Darry was right now. Getting this job made me appreciate Darry even more than I did before.
"It's quittin' time, boys," my manager, Jake, clasped me on the back and called to the workers.
"Your free to go, kid," he told me affectionately, smiling. Jake was a real good guy. "See ya tomorrow."
Ever since my first day on the job, I had been called "kid." I was the youngest out of all of the afternoon and out of the weekend workers. Jake, our manager, was twenty-seven, and the youngest worker besides me was eighteen, whose name was Henry. The rest were mostly big, burly adults with wives and sometimes children. Thus, my age, height, and build had earned me the nickname "kid."
It was better than most "nicknames" I received around people my own age the past few months. "Murder"," "killer," and "scum," we're just a few of the malicious names given to me since "the article". And those were the gentler ones.
"The article" was published a day after Johnny and Dally died. It was terrible; almost everybody read it, and it was bashing Johnny, Dally, and I. It called us vicious murdering scum that set the church on fire with the little kids in it on purpose just to get out of jail time. It even stated that we had tracked down Bob Sheldon and his gang and Johnny then stabbed him him. Only it said all of that in some very unprintable language.
"Murderer," somebody screamed out their window as I waked home from work. I sighed; I had gotten use to the Socs hassling me, but it wasn't just the Socs bothering me anymore, a lot of different people, people who didn't even know me harassed me. All because of that one stupid article, published by someone who didn't even give out their real name. The article was published by an anonymous author who called himself "Joe Minser," but his true identity was unknown. I realized, though, that even if we knew who he was it wouldn't change a single thing. It would probably just get the gang arrested for assault and pedi my attempted murder knowing them boys.
I kicked a large, smooth rock as far as it would go. Stupid rich, no-good Socials, I thought angrily, rubbing my finger over the fresh cuts on my wrist. It just ain't fair.
A/N: Story inspired by Mycookiegitl and BunnyLuvsU.
Aufenthalt Gold,
~Alee xXx