In each and every classroom, Lorraine Carter could be found at the back slacking off and blowing bubbles with her bubble gum, her school alternative to smoking. History class always put her into a zombie-like trance, especially with Mr. Smith. She picked at her hang nails trying to pass the time.
This class didn't affect her like that until about a month ago when Sodapop dropped out to get a job and help support his family. She understood his reasoning, but his entertaining personality added some spice to the otherwise flavourless class. She had another friend, Steve, in the class but he didn't provide any distractions.
As Mr. Smith drawled on about some other country's issues, she began to doodle small flowers around her notes, her long blond hair brushing across her page as she did so. She glanced up checking the clock at the front of the classroom. Sighing, she decided she could put her books away knowing class would be over soon and she could head home.
The bell rang loudly, and she grabbed her bag and approached Steve who was a few seats ahead of her. He took his time packing everything up.
"If you were going any slower I swear you'd be going in reverse," she said to him as he finally finished packing his supplies.
"I just thought you'd like to stay a lil' longer, really absorb everything we just learned," he responded easily. Steve was a smart ass.
"You know what I think? I think you're full of shit and just like torturing me," she responded while laughing.
"Course I do, Lor. Can't let my baby sister get through easy," he said swinging an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tight. She rolled her eyes and shoved his arm off of her jean jacket.
"I'm older than you, you know that, right?" she asked.
They were lucky enough to share a locker section, which made their lockers the meeting spot for their other friends before heading to lunch and going home. They had to walk in groups or they'd be at risk for being jumped. They were what was known as greasers, the people from the bad side of town; the East side. They stole, smoked cigarettes, had fun in any way they could, and used a little too much grease in their hair. The Socials (or Socs) were from the West side. They had the best of everything; they had cars bought for them by their daddies, they played football, and most importantly they had the respect of authority. According to teachers and police, they could do no wrong. It was an injustice.
Their high school, Will Rogers, was found on the West side, which meant greasers had to go out of their territory for school, putting them at risk. The Socs outnumbered them, and they often found themselves being ganged up on in school. She only had three of her gang members at school with her, but a greaser was a greaser, and they'd help their kind in any circumstance. Her group was all in the same grade, which made it pretty easy to buddy up and find each other.
Steve and Lorraine strode to their lockers to pickup some books before going home. As Lorraine placed the last book in her bag, a fist banged against the locker next to hers. She tried to conceal the surprise she felt but she jerked away from the fist and her heart rate had sped up.
"There they are, how was history, ya rascals?" Two-Bit asked giving Lorraine a cheeky grin.
"Was that really necessary?" She responded with a heavy glare.
"Nah, just like making you squirm is'all. Now, how was history?"
"Remarkable, as always. What 'bout culinary class?"
"Baked a nice chocolate cake t'day, woulda made Darry proud. 'Cept all the eggshells, mind you, but if you don't see the bright white, you could mistake the crunch for a nut, and I think that's pretty special."
Her face scrunched up at the thought of it. She had eaten his food before, and it was never a pleasant experience. They both chuckled at her reaction.
"We bummin' a ride from you, Steve?" he asked.
"Lorraine ain't got a car, you ain't got a car, so it's gotta be me," he answered giving Two-Bit a shove.
"Johnny leave early t'day?" she asked cocking her head at Two-Bit. They started to head towards the parking lot as she looked around.
"Yup, he took an extra long lunch. Didn't wanna be bothered with the last two periods. Lucky sonofagun." Two-Bit answered.
"Can y'all take me home today? I'll see if I can swing by later," Lorraine added.
"Sure thing, Lori," Steve agreed, roughing up her blonde hair. Their homes were all near each other, so getting around from house to house was pretty easy. She spent most of her time with the gang, and when she did go home it was mostly just to make sure her brother was okay. Lor used to love being home until her mother started dating Dan Chapman. Him moving in had destroyed her one safe place. No greaser had a perfect life, and it seemed like they all struggled with something.
Lor tried to keep her home life and her friend life separate. She didn't believe they needed to know every aspect of her life- she was very secretive. They knew enough about her that she wasn't a stranger, but kept them at a distance. They knew her mother was very young and worked at a diner in town, the Dingo, that her mother smoked a lot of weed, that she had an eleven-year-old brother named Anthony, and that she had a step-father who could leave her in pretty rough shape sometimes.
Dan and her mother, Lizzy, were very affectionate people and were constantly all over each other. Lor tried to distract her brother when they were like that, but he was at a curious age, and she eventually had to talk to him about the birds and the bees. Dan really liked sex, even when Lizzy was out of the house, and that left Lorraine. She was 14 the first time it happened, and she didn't have the heart to alert her mother.
That was the first day she didn't come back to her house at night. She ran out as soon as it was over and laid in an empty lot a couple blocks away from her house. She watched cloud after cloud pass by, trying harder and harder to push everything out her mind. She became rather good at not thinking or feeling.
Loud yelling interrupted her thoughts and made her sit up in her spot. The screaming was coming from a house directly across from the lot in an old house that was missing most of its bleak white paint. The brown grass surrounding the house added to the overall unpleasant atmosphere. Lorraine sat a bit straighter hugging her knees while trying to figure out what was going on in the house. Her curiousness was answered when a boy walked out who looked around her age. He seemed to be walking towards the lot but didn't notice that it was currently occupied. As he got closer she got a better look at him. He had black hair that settled nicely against his tan skin, and large brown eyes that seemed to have a certain sadness to them. It probably didn't help that he had a black eye forming around one of them. He came to holt directly in front of her. They made eye contact and said nothing for many seconds.
"That's my spot, this is my place," he said to her rather bravely considering how shaken he looked. Lorraine cocked her head and looked at him.
"I was thinking maybe you could share, then," she responded coolly. "Are you okay? You seem a lil' shaken from that."
"I'm fine, I don't need anybody to look out for me," he answered. She kept a serious face and tried to analyze him. He was lying.
"We all need somebody to look out for us, or else we'll all go mad." He hesitated before deciding it was okay to sit next to her. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her one which solidified their new friendship.
Lorraine strongly believed that meeting Johnny Cade was the best thing that ever happened to her. She finally met someone who had issues like her own, and he introduced her to the gang she was now apart of. He was constantly beat and constantly put down, but he somehow managed to pull through and still be happy. She wished that she could have turned out like Johnny, but she craved chaos like a plant craves the sun.
Any drive that had Two-Bit tagging along left Lorraine feeling both excited and horrified. He had a way of making anybody laugh, but his main goal was to distract the driver as much as he could by any means possible.
"Steve, I've got a question for you. Very serious, very important," Two-Bit started staring at him intensely.
"What would that be?"
"If you had to bag Jeanette Kean or Linda Taylors who would it be?"
"You think I'd wanna lay either of those Socs? You're gonna make me sick, Two," Steve said.
"C'mon, don't be like that! There's no wrong choice here."
"Fine! Jeanette Kean, she has pretty big hooters and is a cheerleader, she's gotta be flexible."
"Really? Jeannie? You're a sick man Stevie, a sick man!" Two-Bit hollered while laughing and slapping Steve on the back making him swerve the car. Lorraine shook her head while clutching the side of the car trying to stay upright.
"What about you Miss Lorraine? Jeannie or Linda?" Two-Bit asked while wagging his eyebrows up and down at her.
"Stevie was definitely right, Jeannie was the right choice. She's batshit crazy, mind you, which could always become an inconvenience later on. But for a lay? I hear she's real good," Lorraine answered honestly. She had heard that from a Soc by the name of Tom Watson who found himself with Lorraine as company one night at a party. It didn't end well once he started comparing her to the other girls he managed to bed.
"There it is! What Lor says, goes. Now will you sit still and stop distracting me for the rest of the fuckin' ride?" Steve asked.
Two-bit looked Lorraine directly in the eyes and made a comment about Steve's panties being in a twist causing another fight to breakout and making her laugh. It was simple moments like these that perked her up.
In no time, they arrived at her house. She grabbed her backpack and hopped out of the car. Two-bit rolled down his window and called out to her.
"Now you be safe Lori, you hear me?" Two-bit hollered at her.
"I'm a big girl Two-bit, I can handle anything," she answered. She lied often.
As the car drove away, Lorraine found herself looking at her house. It had a metal fence around it making it look even less approachable. It had two stories and was painted an ugly baby blue that was starting to have more brown on it than blue. One of the windows was smashed last year and there was still a piece of wood in the place of glass. There were beer cans and cigarette buds laying in her yard, a trademark to the Carter household. The car in the driveway meant her mom hadn't left for work yet and Dan had returned from his job. There was a rickety, black bicycle chained to deck which meant her brother was home too.
She eventually started to walk towards her front door. She never knew what she would be walking in on when she came into her house. Her mother was extremely easy going but she didn't really care all that much about her children. Dan was the real issue. There were times where he was bearable, where his presence was almost wanted. Lizzy usually worked during the night time, so they were left with Dan. Most nights he would make them a basic supper, or pick up something that Lorraine could make. He, like most men on this side of town, had a strong relationship with the bottle. It was possible for her to come home at 4 pm to find him boozed up and ready for anything.
As she walked in the front doors there was the unmistakeable smell of grass. Her mother was an avid smoker and was quickly rolling along with the hippy movement. She saw the lit joint on the ashtray in the kitchen and picked it up. She held the joint to her lips and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds before exhaling it out. She repeated this until it was nearly finished, and she could feel herself easing up.
She walked to the living room and there was still no sign of her family. As she got closer to the stairs she saw a pair of pants and a shirt laying on the stairwell. She could then make out the sound of her mother and stepfather going at it upstairs. She now understood why her mom left a perfectly good joint out.
She continued her walk through the house until she reached her brother's room. His door was shut, so she knocked on it a few times to no response.
"Anthony? Come on, let me in, I know you're there."
"Go away, Lori," he responded.
"If you let me in I'll get you a pack of cigarettes." She knew that could have an extreme influence on him- it was hard to get your hands on a whole pack when you're 13. She smirked when she heard him undoing the lock. He opened the door just a crack and peeked his eye through.
"What do you want, Lor?" he asked with a frown.
"Just to see the cutest little brother in the whole world!" she answered pushing his door open further to allow herself in. She knew that he hated home and always took it upon herself to try and cheer him up in these situations.
"Aw, don't call me cute! I don't wanna be cute, I wanna be tuff!" She sat down on his bed and looked at him. He had started to grease back his honey blonde hair and he was growing it out. He had the same dark brown eyes as her which made them look intense. He was wearing his knock of Levi's and a white shirt- he was becoming your average greaser, and he sure did look tuff. As tuff as an 13-year-old can look, at least.
"I'll be honest with you kid, you're looking pretty tuff. You ain't got a leather jacket though, do you?" she asked him. She thought a little as he shook his head no.
"I ain't got the money for one but I'll see if the gang has any old ones, or we'll use our five-finger discount," she said to him with a nice smile; she knew he was an easy kid to bribe. At 13, all he wanted to do was fit in with the older guys.
"You really mean that, Lor?" he asked with wide eyes.
"Sure kid, anythin' for you."
"Can I get a switchblade then?" he asked eagerly.
"Absolutely not."
"But you just said-"
"Right, bad word choice. I'll get you anythin' that won't hurt nobody. I'll get you one when you need one though, I promise you that."
"When I need one?" he asked. She sighed heavily. He wanted so badly to be like the older boys but didn't know what it really meant to be a greaser yet, not fully. He knew that they didn't have a lot of money and he knew that being from their side of town made them poor. He knew that greasers used a lot of hair grease, smoked a lot, drank a lot, and had fun while doing it all. The one thing he didn't understand was that because all of those things, they were inferior to others who weren't like them. They weren't even the rug people walk all over, they were the dirt swept under it that nobody wanted.
"You know about the Socs, Tony. The rich kids, they drive around in their fancy cars and such. And you know how they don't like greasers. Sometimes, for fun, they'll try and spook ya or sometimes worse. If you ever have a close run in with a Soc that could leave ya hurt, I'll get you a switchblade and I'll teach ya how to use it."
"You swear on your life?" he asked holding his pinky out to her. She stood up from her spot on the bed and reached her pinky out to join his.
"Swear on my life."