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Chapter One

I stretch my arms over my head and roll my neck, popping stiff joints here and there. It has been a long journey for me. This bus and many others have been my home the past few weeks. Now I'm hoping off in Oklahoma for a nice stay. Well as nice as a drifters stay can be. A drifter is someone who doesn't have a place to call home. Most say it's a sad way of life but I enjoy it. I've met some pretty interesting people on my stops across the country. Some I even go to the bother of writing every once in a blue moon. I carry two things, a backpack with all my belongings and a guitar. On one of my longer stays in the country an old man had taught me how to play for a couple of weeks. I learned fast and had it mastered within my two weeks stay. As a reward and something to remember my stay by, he'd given me his very first guitar. I'd learned a year or so later on my way back through that part of the country that he had died not long after I'd left. I stopped by his grave and had played his favorite song for him and paid my respects and I was on the road again. I go where ever my feet take me.

My stomach growls as I wave the bus driver off. He was a nice man who whistles to past the time. I'd gotten to know him pretty well and I had wished him the best, slyly dropping a twenty in his tip jar. It had been a rough ride and he'd been kind to me, he deserves more than I can give. With a quick look around I head to my right, in search of food and possibly a job. I'm low on cash again. That's how it goes for drifters. When you run low on cash you get a job for a few weeks or use a talent to gain some money. True I could play on the streets and hope to get offered some money but I've always liked to work with my hands. I know how to do a few things so maybe finding a quick job wouldn't be so hard.

"Hey pretty thing how about coming with me for a ride." I turn to a bright red stingray slowly rolling by me, keeping up with my walking pace. The boy who had spoken to me has red hair to match the car and a pale face. His bicep flexed as he leans one arm out the window. With him are three other boys who are keeping their eyes on me.

I turn my head back with a roll of my eyes. "No thanks."

"Come on baby you know you'd love it."

I sigh, keeping my temper in check. "No. Now go away."

A gas station comes into view not far off. A big group of girls flock around it, squealing and chattering about god knows what. I've never liked talking about things constantly or fussed over boys. A laugh comes from the car by my side that has yet to leave me alone. "Hey Jeff isn't that your girl over there on the greaser?"

"Like hell it is. Come on." With that, they speed up and park at the station. As I approach I can hear the commotion as the guy yells back and forth with a tall skinny blonde with too little clothes and too much makeup on. The 'greaser' she'd been all over is inside behind the counter. With a shrug and sigh I walk past the arguing couple and head inside. The guy looks up as I lean against the counter, a smile bright on his face. His eyes remind me of molten chocolate and his dark blonde hair shines in the dim lights of the store. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'm new in town. Know where I can get something to eat cheap around here?"

He nods, smile still in place. "The Dingo isn't too far from here. I get off in about five minutes if you want to wait, I can walk you there."

I grin up at him. "Oh I'd hate for you to go out of your way. Just give me some general directions and I'm sure I can find it."

He shrugs, putting some money in the register as a boy walks in from the back. "I'm meting my friends there anyway. I'm Sodapop Curtis." He holds his hand out for me to shake.

I take it with a raised eyebrow. "Esmeralda Hayes. Sodapop huh? That's a new one. I like it."

He throws his head back with a rich laugh. "Well thanks. This is my buddy Steve Randle."

I turn and shake his hand too, his rough calluses tickling the edges of my fingers. His eyes are hard and dark to match his dark hair. He tosses a red bandana on the counter and turns to Sodapop. "Ready to take off? I'm done for the day and the place is deserted now that your fan club left."

"Yeah. Come on Esmeralda, Steve's truck is out back." I nod, picking my stuff back up and following them out the back door, where Sodapop locks up. Steve takes my bags from my shoulder and puts them safely in the bed, up against the cab. He then jumps in and starts the truck, Sodapop waiting with his door open for me to slid in. Once we get in, Steve heads down the late afternoon streets.