I do not own any characters only the plot.
Everything belongs to S.E. Hinton.
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February 23, 1967
Journal,
The "doctor" says I have to write in this thing so here I am in a stupid smelly jail cell writing in a diary. It smells like mold and sweat. Disgusting. I hate it here. At least I only have a few more filthy boring days in this rut. Almost every day some dumb moron decides to start a riot and that sends a few other idiots, including the one who started it, to the jail infirmary to get treated and be "I'm so tough I broke my hand in three different spots teehee," that's what most of them say. All I see all day long is a stupid uncomfortable bed, toilet, the dumb riots, and the gray metal steel bars that keep me locked in here.
So the dumb thing, or people, that got me landed here this time is those stupid Socs who think they're so pretty and smart and all that just 'cause they have money. Me and my good buddy Two-Bit were walking him from the drug store, it was a real nice night, the perfect temperature. Just one perfect night to end off an almost perfect day. Almost perfect. We needed some more cigarettes and Ponyboy wanted some Pepsi. As soon as I light a cigarette up a stupid Soc decides to drive up in his fancy car, get out, and starts to run his mouth like that's what we actually wanna hear what he's got to say, like nothing else matters but him. At first when Two-Bit and I saw the car we just kept walking like we didn't hear the car pull up, which near to impossible 'cause they're so dang loud. Anyway when that Soc started to run his mouth and start yelling and hollowing at us just 'cause we're walking, you could tell he just wanted to have fun while being buzzed by booze and to show off all his fancy rings. So this smarty pants Soc decides to start makin fun of my looks, my elfish face, my high cheek bones, the pointed chin, my blue eyes, and of course my, almost white, blond hair. This is when I started to get mad, but I decided to play it cool and not give him the satisfaction of makin me mad. But leave it to my friend Two-Bit there to kind of mess things up. Two-Bit decided all by his big-boy self to go and defend me. I have no idea in my mind why in the world he would do that, for me especially. I don't know why anyone would do that for me, I know I wouldn't. So Two-Bit starts to wham this guy so bad that this guy needed stitches on his arm, 13 to be exact. Since we were in a better part of the West side some dummy called the fuzz to break up the little fight. After about 30 second of Two-Bit whaling on this guy, his good 'ol buddy decides to come out of the car to come and surprise attack Two-Bit. That's when I jumped in. I pounded this guy into the ground. This Soc was so drunk after the first hit he started callin for his mommy I let him go though 'cause I could hear the sirens in the distance gettin close to where we were fightin, so I pulled Two-Bit off his Soc, and told him to run and save himself from the fuzz. I pulled the Soc off the ground and started to pretend that I was hittin him the whole time. They believed me. I told 'em they attacked me so I got mad and hit 'em a whole bunch of times until they was black and blue. The fuzz questioned me a whole bunch of times for over an hour and a bunch of different cops interviewed me, I guess to see if I was tellin the same story to each and every one of them. And I told them the same story 'bout 50 time or so. And theys believed me, even though it was the worst unbelievable lie I've ever told in my seventeen years.
After the stupid fuzz questioned me fer about two more wasteful hours, theys walked me to a dirty, old rusted up cell, and pushed me in, then locked the door. On the way they was sayin that I was lucky that I didn't do any more damage to that boy, or else I would I have a longer sentence. and I spent the whole night in there. It wasn't much different from when I was arrested for the first time, except this time not a whole lotta people was screaming. It was kind of nice and quiet. I slept well.
The next morning the fuzz woke me up and told me we was gonna go to the courthouse so the judge can tell me how long I gotta stay in the slammer for. We hurriedly walked into the cop car and rode up the street to the courthouse. The fuzz wanted me out of there as soon as possible, I could tell. The ride was long and there was dead silence, it was very uncomfortable, until one of the cops put the radio on to a smooth jazz station at a soft volume, it took some tension away. We finally got after what seemed like hours. Although, it took about five hours of lawyers, the judge, and a jury of, what they called, my peers talk and talk about the fight and other mumbo jumbo that didn't even relate to the fight. The Soc was there to I learned his name was Robert, but they call him Bob. I got six long and boring months. After court was over after five and a half hours of talkin bout the same thing over and over again. It's like they can't hear. On the way to the actual jail they was talking to me sayin that I was lucky that I didn't do any more damage to that boy, or else I would I have a longer sentence. The ride was a little longer than I remember, it was really only five and a half minutes, but it felt like an hour and half.
Jail wasn't like I remember. The food tasted like dirt, and the beds were like lying on rocks, sharp and pointy ones too. The smell gets worse every day even though we're forced to clean every day. We have to wear the same darn thing everyday too. Orange. I hate the color. Its noisy here too everybody screamin and howlin at each other and the security guards too. It gets on my nerves. I supposed to be here for a lot longer than six months but they said if I'm good I'll get out of here on good behavior.
I can't wait to get out of here tomorrow I'm glad for that. I'm actually excided. I'll get to see Johnny and Two-Bit even Darry. But I can't tell no one that. They might think im getting soft. And I am not gonna tell em that. Well doc said I had to write bout how I got here and what I feel bout getting out tomorrow. But first thing im gonna do after I smell the fresh air is get a pack cigarettes from that corner drug store, maybe have a drink or two, ride in a few rodeos, get into a couple fights with another Soc or someone else, jump and mug some people, then I'll be right back here all over again just wait and you see. I know and feel that in the future I'll have another run in with the fuzz for another stupid thing I'll do. It's probably gonna be a bet or something completely stupid like that.
