Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders and blah blah blah blah.
Author's Note: Yay for oneshots! xD Sorry about the title. I know it's weird. But hey! I wrote this at around midnight. S'not my fault it's dumb.
He hit me! He hit me! I knew he didn't love me. I knew it!
Ponyboy's feet pounded on the pavement as he made his way back to the lot. But when he got there, it was empty. Johnny must have decided to leave and go home. Tears streamed down Pony's face. He needed Johnny right now.
He rubbed his arms as the bitter cold snapped at them. He wished he had a cigarette.
"I'll just make my way to the park and then I'll go home. Soda'll be there. Soda'll want me home. Soda loves me," he reassured himself.
Once he made his way to the park he was wishing he'd gone straight home. The wind was blasting worse than ever and he felt as if he might freeze to death before he'd even get home.
"Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here. One of those greasers who tried to pick up our girls."
The drunken slur made Pony shiver from something besides the cold.
"Next time you want a broad, pick up your own kind. Dirt," Bob sneered at him.
Pony remained silent. He almost wanted to run, but knew he wouldn't get too far. He scanned the ground for any kind of weapon, but there was none. His only hope was that they just backed off and went to their mustang. But he knew he'd have no such luck.
"Hey. You know what a greaser is? White trash with long greasy hair," Bob said, throwing some of the liquid from his flask at Ponyboy.
"You know what a Soc is? White trash with mustang and madras," Ponyboy said, and then spit on him.
"You need a bath kid. David, give the kid a bath."
That's when Pony knew to start running. He whirled around and ran. Even with being on track, and being as fast as he was, he didn't seem to get more than a few feet before he was grabbed by his arms and submerged into the fountain.
Ponyboy struggled with all his might, trying to get loose. But he was outnumbered. He tried screaming for help, only to get lungs full of water. His mind was screaming in agony, like his head might rip into two. And then suddenly, he stopped fighting anymore. He just went limp.
"Bob! BOB!" Bob's friend Randy screamed, "The kid ain't moving."
Bob pulled Ponyboy out of the water by his hair. He dragged him out to the ground. "Make him…Make him breathe," he said, swaying on his feet. All of his liquor seemed to be getting to him. He bent over and threw up.
"I can't make him breathe," Randy said, "Bob. The kid is dead."
"No way. No fucking way," Bob said, "We didn't kill no one. No one, you hear? Now get back into the car. I think I want to go home."