Chapter One
Author's Note: This is my first "Outsiders" fanfiction, but I got this idea recently and realized that it, though very sad, was pretty good in my opinion. This is all from Johnny's point of view. I really am glad to write this because I have recently become a fan of "The Outsiders" in movie style, and a little bit more in the book, which I already liked. I read that last winter, I think, so yeah, I just discovered the movie. Disclaimer: I don't own any of those boys, even though I really wish I owned Johnny, but I can't, sadly enough. Anyway, here's chapter one and I hope you enjoy! (Also, this is important, the memories start in italics.)
I lay in that white hospital bed, thinking to myself. I was in pain, but since I couldn't feel anything below the middle of my back, it didn't make any difference. I was thinking about what I had told Pony earlier, about how sixteen years ain't long enough, and I knew that we both knew that I was right. I didn't want to die. I don't know how I had done that, thought about death earlier on in life. It wasn't fair. Why?
And then, it struck me. I was doing this for good, had done this. All of a sudden, I was going back over my life. Thinking, re-living the memories and times. My first one was as a small child, at the age of 6, and it wasn't pleasant...
"'Johnny, get here right now! You ain't gonna pretend that you didn't do this! Come on, come over here to your father!'" yelled my mother. She was a dark haired woman with an awful temper, at that time in my life, she was just mom and nothing more.
My father stood with a piece of wood almost as big as me. It was the first time I would endure this torture and not the last at all. He laughed and started to hit me with it. I didn't make a sound as he hit me again and again. My mother cackled in a witch like sort of way. When he was done, he threw me on the ground.
"'That'll teach ya! Honey, go get me a beer!'" he yelled. My mother turned pale.
"'I'm not your personal servant. Go get your own beer, you idiot! And you don't pay the rent, so you don't need me to get you anything in the first place!'" she shrieked. I crawled away as the arguing got worse. I made it to my bedroom where I lay on the small, hay-filled mattress that was my bed.
They kept at it a full two hours that night. I had never heard something so horrible. I cried at one point, and then I finally fell asleep. But I didn't think the same of my parents again after that.
Then there was the time when I was 10 years old. I hadn't met the gang yet, still, and was still living with my parents. It was a stormy night...
There hadn't been a thought on my mind about going out into the storm, but I was hungry and in need of food. I snuck out eventually around five o'clock and ended up going to the nearest gas station. I didn't bother to think about the consequences. It was too risky. I couldn't.
I bought snacks and stayed in the park for a few minutes before heading back to the house. But what I met there was not good.
Most parents would have just forgave their kid or given them food in the first place. But mine, no, mine were unforgiving and rude. My mother was standing at the door, not worried, just mad. Most parents would have been angry and mad and would have not done what mine did.
"'Johnny, is that you?'" she yelled when she saw me coming in through the gate.
"'Yeah.'" I replied, bracing myself.
"'Do you know what you did? I can't believe you would disgrace me in front of guests like that. You weren't there when I called you for dinner! I wish you had gotten struck by lighting instead, foolish, stupid, boy, don't do that again!'" she yelled. My father appeared, looking equally as angry. I had forgotten about the people coming over. But I had been hungry.
"'Honey, you go back to the guests, I'll take care of him.'" said my father. My stomach dropped.
He came out and started to hit me with his hands, just hit me. I let the blows come. He took out his belt, hit me with that. I let them come. But afterwards, when he had gone back inside and locked the door, I lay there, in pain. There was nowhere for me to go, yet I had to get out of here. Where could I go?
I stayed there for the whole night, and slept on the back steps of the house because when the guests came out, I didn't want them to see me. I had to sleep there, because no door was unlocked when my parents went in for the night. I didn't cry. I just slept, and thought, and got rained on a lot. Luckily, I was under a slight protection from the roof of the patio. But this didn't make a difference. I could've died out there that night. But I didn't because I moved around a lot and barely slept.
That memory flew past my eyes. It seemed as though the bad ones were gone. That wasn't true. The next one that came to me was the day I met the others, Darry, Soda, Pony, Steve, Dally, and Two-Bit.
It was a sunny day out, I was now 12 years old, and I had been wandering the streets. I never went to school, never could. My parents weren't nice enough to help me with everything, so I dropped out of school in kindergarten, basically. I was busy humming a tune and thinking about where I could find to sleep tonight. Mother and father had gone at it again this morning and I had left immediately.
For the past two years, I had been sleeping in different places. The garage, the backyard, other people's roofs, and all because I had been chased out by my parents almost every other day. They had beaten me, then would kick me out, or I would run out.
And so, it was about three in the afternoon. I was being lazy, not doing anything. I couldn't really do anything, there was no job that I could get at all, furthermore, there were no jobs. So I was walking past a house that was nicely kept. A car was parked in front of it, an old one. I knew that the inhabitants in that house was a family of 5, and I knew they were in the same league as me. They weren't Socs.
I had known about the Socs for a time at that point. I was a greaser, as I knew I would be, and they were the Socs. That was that. So now, as I passed the house, I looked at it more closely. All of a sudden, a boy who looked about ten years old came bounding down the sidewalk. Obviously he had just come home from school. He was part of that family. He looked at me, curiously.
"'Who're you?'" he asked me.
"'Just...kid, what's your name?'" I asked him.
"'Ponyboy. Really, it is. That's true.'"
"'Alright, well, I'm Johnny. I was just wandering around.'" I replied.
"'Why ain't you in school?'"
"'Well...'"
"'That's okay, my brothers don't go to school either. I gotta go. See ya!'" he said. I nodded, and he bounded into his house. I moved on, wondering if that was really a good place to stay one night.
Funny boy, that was. I didn't know who his brothers were, but he didn't seem like the type that wasn't like me. He was a greaser, that I knew. So were his brothers, most likely. Or would be if they ever got interested. Not now, though. They were all just common folk, unlike me.
That night, I decided to find a place to stay other than my house's garage or the neighbor's roof. I decided I would go down the street to that house and sleep on their roof. I could get away before they saw me. I didn't go hungry that night, though, I ate a small dinner that my father had put out for me. I didn't know whether it meant that he cared or to stay away, but most likely it was the stay away part.
So I made my way to that house and started to figure out a way to get to their roof. A fence lined the yard, but it wasn't close enough to the house. Maybe I would have to sleep on the ground near their porch. I decided to do so, in hiding, just in case someone came around this area of the yard before I got up.
I slept there that night, a little bit less nervous and high-strung, a tiny bit more calm and relaxed. The next morning, though, I didn't get up early enough to not be discovered or even seen. I heard voices near the car. I looked at my watch. It was 8 A.M. I was going to be caught if I wasn't careful.
I looked up at the door. The mother stood saying goodbye to the boy, Ponyboy, and the father who was getting in the car. Both of them were. Two older boys came out onto the porch, one who looked to be about my age, another, a good bit older. They just couldn't seem to get into that car quick enough. I had to run. I felt my nerves prick up again.
I stood up, and started to back slowly away. I should have known that the youngest would see me. I began to run as he yelled out something. They all were looking, and I had scaled that fence faster than I had ever climbed a fence before. I ran, and just kept running. I have no idea what they were all thinking at that moment. I was a strange boy in jeans and a t-shirt that ran from their porch. What impression was that? I cussed slightly, alarmed at my stupidity. Now I had let them know that I was there, and they wouldn't be a safe place anymore.
Author's Note: Yes, the next chapter will be taking from the same memory. I hope you enjoyed and please, please, please review!