All rights go to S.E. Hinton. Thank you for a truly eye-opening, inspirational story.
It started when I left school that afternoon. It had been a pretty lousy day, since a bunch of Socs had shot me dirty looks and one guy had even spit on me. It wasn't even something I had done, but I figured there was no complaining of it, a guy had to represent his gang at all times, I guess. There had been a fight not far down my street, and a few guys in the gang had gotten caught up in it. I'm not completely sure what happened, but apparently some Soc named Gary and a few of his cronies had jumped Steve and Two-Bit.
Let me just start off by saying something, jumping Two-Bit is never a good idea. In this neighborhood, you always have to have your guard up, and the Socs had never really forgiven us for beating them to bits in the Big Rumble, which is what everyone had taken to calling it. They've become almost ruthless, merciless, to the point where they might take it out on a middle-class kid who's even friends with a greaser.
Still, it doesn't matter how ruthless you are, jumping a guy who carries a ten-inch switchblade and a free fist is probably a big mistake, especially when he has a buddy who's gonna back him up all the way. A duo like that can dish out some major smarting for tomorrow. What shamed them most was probably the fact that there were at least five Socs to our two greasers, and Steve and Two-Bit had still completely pummeled them.
When one greaser does something to a Soc, glory knows they'll dish payback to all the other greasers too. Honestly, I'm pretty sure the Socs can't even tell us greasers apart anymore, one of us could just as well have been a broad and they wouldn't have known the difference, so spitting on one of us was just the same as spitting on another. So when that guy did, I didn't bother busting him. At school I'm a quiet kid and I didn't want to get in any trouble, because Lord knows that Darry would have my hide if I did. And busting someone to a teacher or something would make me look completely like a scaredy-cat. But still, I'd catch it from Darry. There's no pleasing him, honestly.
Really though, Darry and I have eased up a bunch on each other since Soda fessed up about how much the fighting bothered him, and honestly, it bugged me too. I love my brothers, even if Darry was a bit uptight and Soda a bit careless. Darry has his moments now and then, but he's calmed down a lot, so I can't complain that much. Besides, it's good to have someone looking out for you. As for Soda, he can lighten up almost anything and always sticks up for me, so I dig him pretty easy.
So anyway, I decided to cut across the school parking lot, but then I saw, you guess it, Gary. He was sliding into a really tuff car, a dark red Corvette that gleamed like cherry Coke in the sunlight.
Suddenly, I remembered that real sharp cheerleader, Cherry Valance. That car gleamed exactly like her dark-red hair, hence her name. I had really taken a liking to her, but after the Big Rumble, we didn't really see much of each other. She was a Soc. The separation that the East and West Sides had grown so much more distinct since the Big Rumble, even though some people thought otherwise. It had happened only about two months ago, but it seemed like ages.
Too bad...Cherry and I had really dug each other. And boy, she was pretty.
Stupidly, I realized I was standing in the middle of the lot, just asking for some bum Soc to come and plow me over, so I started to get a move on. A dark front of menacing clouds was moving in. I was thinking about trying to get the boys out for a game of football before the storm hit, but maybe they'd be cool with playing in the mud too, get some scrapes and look tough. I kept moving until I realized that Gary's eyes were locked on me, following me. A creepy smile formed at the corner of his lips, and I almost shivered. He was not someone I would want to get jumped by, that's for sure.
Just then, a strong hand locked down on my shoulder. "What're you looking at, grease?" A deep, gravelly voice asked menacingly. I nearly yelped, but then pulled my switchblade, pivoting and brandishing it.
Two-Bit backed up quickly, his hands up and a grin dancing on his face. "Sorry, Ponyboy, didn't mean to scare ya." He laughed. "Well yeah, I kinda did. So I see you eyeing up little lo' Gary over there," he said, leaning an elbow on my shoulder and trying to look tough. "Gotta cancer stick, kid?"
"Yeah," I said, a little more calmly—even though my hand was shaking—and slipping a pack out of my back pocket. Two-Bit pulled one and so did I, and I lit them for us. He took a drag and looked mean, so Gary averted his gaze. Guess he wasn't over getting shown up by grease, but at least he seemed resigned now, and the better for him. Besides, we can look meaner than angry bears, and that'll set someone straight pretty quick.
Two-Bit grinned with satisfaction. "All right, let's bust this joint," he said, his arm dropping to his side, and his thumb hooking in his belt-loop, just as it began to rain.
The rain absolutely poured, like someone had taken hundreds of buckets and begun dumping them simultaneously. We didn't really mind the rain, other than the fact that it messed up our tuff hair, so we tried to walk under trees or the eaves of roofs. Every once in a while, Two-Bit would kick up a puddle, so at one point we were so drenched that we decided to just run wild and splash through puddles wherever.
I paused and turned to Two-Bit as we began nearing my place. "How do you think the guys would feel about a muddy football game?" I asked, grinning.
Two-Bit grinned back wickedly. "Definitely. We're wetter than drowned dogs anyway. You and Soda on my team."
"So what, Stevie's gonna be on a team alone? 'Cause Darry isn't going to wanna play."
Two-Bit was silent for a minute. "Okay. I don't really feel like playin' football anyway."
I frowned. "Okay, it's cool I guess." He could've just put Soda on Steve's team. They usually play against each other, but that doesn't have to mean all the time. Then again, two-on-two wasn't enough in football, really.
We trod on silently. I could tell Two-Bit was tense, but I didn't know why. I gave in to just stare at my shoes as we walked. Boy, a pair of Chucks sure could get ratty. The toe bumper was all scratched up and dirt was ground right into the rubber. A hole was burnt right through one of my shoelaces. Shoot, these couldn't be more than a month old. Darry would kill me when I told him I needed another—.
"Dammit Ponyboy!"
I must have jumped about a foot in the air.
Two-Bit's face was contorted in an expression I don't think I've ever seen there before: frustration. Good old, easygoing Two-Bit was frustrated.
"Well why are you hollerin', Two-Bit? What's wrong?" I said, stopping dead in a puddle.
Two-Bit turned to me, running a hand through his half-greased hair, mussing it up even worse. "I want to know why you act like nothing happened. I mean, good Lord, I know we don't talk about it or nothing, but you completely ignore it like it never happened!"
I stared at him, dumbfounded. His gray eyes were completely broken, distressed—an emotion completely absent in him. Wait, no. I'd seen him like that not long ago...and for some reason, I hadn't been surprised. It looked exactly the same, the mixture of anger, disbelief, and grief. I would not remember what happened. I refuse. I won't.
Just like always. Whenever I tried to remember what had happened those weeks ago, I would successfully draw a blank. From all I could figure of it, it wasn't a good thing. Especially if it could do something like this to Two-Bit. It bothered me, and that's why I wouldn't try to recall it. It hurt.
At that moment, I decided it best to fib. I lie real easy, and it makes me kinda guilty, but I was worried. Soda said that's because I read so much that I can lie easy, but I don't know. Something that could cause this much unrest wasn't something I wanted to dig into. Besides, it technically wouldn't be a lie. I sort of...forgot...exactly what happened, so I couldn't act like it had happened. It's relative.
"Ignore what?" I said quietly.
Two-Bit looked ready to bash my face in. "Look kid, if you wanna pull something—" he stopped. We stood in the rain for a minute, and I was getting awful cold.
"Never mind. Let's get to your place before Darry decides you got kidnapped," Two-Bit said more steadily, but his voice seemed to rattle in his throat a little.
"Okay."
The tension seemed to ease up a bit after that. The wind was blowing and it was getting colder. I guess late November can get like that. Not too long after that, the rain got heavier and became sleet, so Two-Bit and I started slicking outta there real fast.
I hopped onto the porch and shook off a little.
Two-Bit laughed and shook his head. It seemed like he was either trying really hard to keep the tension out of his voice, or had forgotten that quickly. The latter seemed more likely, Two-Bit was too happy-go-lucky to dwell on something. "What on earth are you shakin' like a mangy mutt for?"
I looked at him dubiously. "I don't want to track any more water into the house than I have to..."
"All right kid, I'll leave you to that," he chuckled, pulling open the rusty screen door. I caught it before it could smack into the doorjamb and stepped in. The door creaked shut.
Sodapop, my brother, was napping on the couch, a newspaper over his face and his arms sprawled all over. It was funny to see because one, he was shirtless and there was a half-eaten sandwich on his stomach; and two, Soda doesn't read the newspaper. Two-Bit must have noticed too, because he motioned to him and chuckled.
I smiled and threw myself down into a threadbare armchair. The sleet was getting heavier and a cold breeze was starting to drift in through the screen door, and my clothes were cold and wet, but I started to drift off anyway. Nights were rough for me and I didn't get much sleep...
"What the hell's the matter with you?"
My eyes flew open and I jumped, almost tipping the chair over. Soda must have gotten spooked too, because he had fallen onto the floor, but the newspaper was still on his face.
"What?" I said stupidly, my voice thick with sleep.
Darry was planted in front of the door, his arms crossed and his face stern. "Are you stupid or something, Pony?"
Soda pulled the paper off his face, which was covered in some funny gunk. "What in the name of..."
At that moment Two-Bit stuck his head out from the kitchen, eating a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich. I don't know why, but I could almost feel my face turning green, while my stomach turned over. Then I remembered; I never liked bologna. Yeah. That was it.
"Hey kid," Two-Bit said, looking a little concerned. "You don't look so hot."
"That's because he's running around with wet clothes!" Darry growled. "What are you aimin' to do, catch pneumonia?"
"No, I forgot—"
Darry rolled his eyes. "You forgot. You always forget. For Pete's sake—" He cut himself off. His eyes drifted to Sodapop in realization. "Sorry, Soda. I just—"
"It's alright. Ponyboy, you shouldn't be runnin' around in wet clothes. You're li'ble to catch cold at the least." He looked pointedly at Two-Bit, who was snickering. "And the common cold doesn't have an age limit for who it chases, pal. Wet clothes aren't healthy for you, either. You're not greasy enough to repel water yet, so you should really get on something dry."
That set Two-Bit straight. But then he looked at Soda's face and started cracking up again. Soda rolled his eyes sarcastically. "And here I have to wonder who put—" he wiped off some of the gunk with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. "—mayonnaise on my face."
We couldn't help it. We all started laughing, even Darry grinned. "You guys are a riot."
We calmed down a bit, and I went into my room and changed my clothes so Darry could hush up. But all I could find was a pair of jeans. The dresser was empty, and there were dirty clothes and books scattered everywhere. There were food stains on the rug and the bedspread. The dartboard that hung on the door didn't only have darts in it, but a funny little silver switchblade.
Well, little to me, seeing that most of the gang has at least eight inches of metal in their pockets. Not that I blame them. Since we smashed them in a rumble, the Socs have been pretty vengeful, and the fighting has only escalated. You need a big switchblade around here. This one was only about six inches, so it was pretty much worthless for anything other than darts to us. I decided to leave it, along with the rest of the mess, and make some dinner.
The cupboards were pretty bare, since no one had done any shopping in a while. All we had was eggs, deli ham, mayonnaise, carrots, bologna, and stuff for chocolate cake. Not really a combination for a good meal. I decided to just throw everything together except the bologna and mayonnaise (and of course not the chocolate cake stuff) and I ended up with something like a gigantic omelet pizza. It looked pretty good, so I smacked it onto a plate and set it on the table.
Soda wandered in from who knows where, still shirtless, and sniffed. "Smells good, little buddy. What is it?"
I shrugged. "Whatever you want, I guess. Pizza omelet, omelet pizza, egg and ham salad."
Soda grinned. "Alright, I'll dig." He turned. "Darry! Fooood!" Soda called in a sing-song voice.
"Alright, gimme a minute, I just got outta the shower!"
Soda and I cut up the omelet thingy with an unnecessarily large knife, (which, to be honest, I think was a bread knife) and it did smell real good. My mouth was watering and I was just about to take a bite when suddenly the screen door flew open, hitting the house.
It was Steve. Something must have been really wrong, because his face looked like a deer in headlights. "Curtis! Come quick! There's a couple o' kids getting beat on in the street, and a little girl's hurt real bad!"
We didn't need to be told twice. When anyone in the gang called "Curtis!" they were referring to all three of us. Soda and I flew out the door, and Darry was right on our tails, zipping his pants. We were all barefoot, Soda because he hates shoes, Darry hadn't had time, and mine were soaked through. Even barefoot, I could run faster than the rest of them, even Steve, who had shoes and a pretty good head start.
I saw it. There, in the middle of the street, facing away from us, was an ugly green Corvair, like dark baby-puke. Or guacamole. Shoot, they were the same thing to me. In front of the car there were two Socs, and a kid a little older than me, but younger than the other guys in our gang. One of the Socs had a switchblade, and he was holding it up real threatening-like, and the kid looked like he was ready to mess his pants. I didn't see any little girl, but maybe she was pretty short and one of the guys was blocking her.
I did the first thing that popped into my head—jump them. I wrapped my legs around the guy's waist and my arms around his neck and started strangling him. Darry took on the other guy and Soda started slugging the one I had. Darry had his guy down in a couple hits, but this one could take a real beating. At least that's what I thought, until that kid waltzed right up to the guy and just planted one right on his...well, you know. The guy screeched and started laughing real high-pitched and hysterical, like some nut, and doubled over. But then he must have decided to go down and take someone with him, cause he tipped over backwards. His head smacked right into my face, and I guess he had a skull that was pretty thick.
The pavement met my head with a funny crack, and fireworks shot off into the sky.
In a second, Darry was right over me, but I couldn't see him too well, the fireworks were in the way. Right then it began to hail.
"Pony? Ponyboy? Are you alright?"
Other people began to crowd into my vision. Soda's lip was cut. "Watch out the fireworks don't hit you," I said stupidly.
"Glory, Pony, you got an eye blacker than ink, and a big bump on your head too!" someone said, but I couldn't make out who.
They should stop spinning around me, it was making me dizzy. Darry reached out his hand and pulled me up, and the ground jumped.
"Careful buddy." Then to Soda: "I think he's rebounding with that concussion."
"Yep. You get him and I'll get the little one?"
"Alright."
Suddenly I felt real light, and Darry's face was right up in mine. "Take it easy, little buddy."
"Okay," I said, feeling my eyes roll up into my head.
Darry took me inside and laid me down on the bed gently, and I dropped off.
Next part soon to come. Let me know what you think, thanks!