The cold air swept over Tulsa, Oaklahoma. Synthia, a young fourteen year old girl who has just moved here from New York, shivered as the icy wind filled her body with coldness. "Brrrr, Tulsa sure isn't any less cold than New York in the Winter season.", Synthia recalled to herself. She was walking through the green, grassy park near the east side of town, when a Blue Mustang pulled up on the road beside her. 'I wonder what they want.' she thought to herself, as her legs began to power through the thick mud piles, dug into the ground. "Well, what do we have here? Hm?", Synthia heard. She froze as her eyes caught sight of the four, broad men, stepping out of the dirty car. "Another...Uh, what do you call them, oh! A greaser?", one of the men slurred. Synthia could easily tell that the four boys were drunk, she could easily outmatch them if they attacked her. Instead, she decided to show that she wasn't afraid of them, even though her face was gaining paleness. That didn't hold her down though as she said in a steady, bold voice, "I believe you can call me, a person.". The truth was, Synthia didn't even understand what all these Soc's and Greaser's were, she just despised it when anyone called her either one. 'Is it to much to be called by my name?' Synthia always wondered. One of the drunk men smiled ina grim way, tieing knots into Synthia's stomach. As if something had begun, that Synthia wasn't notified of, all four people started to pin her down, on to the mud plastered grass. She fumbled and twitched, as the boy with curly hair, poured his drink over her beige blouse that hadn't been washed in a few weeks. "Hey!", Synthia shouted into the distance. Right then, she had enough.
Her fist shot up into the air, as one of the boys hesitated when her nails dug into his skin. She kept screaming as her fist socced the boy strait in the nose. "There. That should heal up in about 3 months, buddy." As soon as that one fell backwards, her hand dug deep into her pocket, searching for the switch-blade she always kept for cutting up useless things, like leaves and tree bark. It was a strange hobby of hers, that wouldn't have come in handy at any better time than this. As soon as the boy's eyes layed on the rusty weapon, they all had flead. Synthia sighed of relief, because the truth was, even though it was still freezing out in the open, fear had caused the goose bumps to form all around her body. While trying to stand up, a blonde haired fellow ran over to her. Before Synthia had a chance to use her blade on him, he spoke aloud, "That was quite some fight. Them Soc's stumbled away as soon as you flicked out that knife of yours. Good thing you brought it out then, or else you would have been a bloody mess by now.". Synthia stared at the boy.
She wasn't scared or frightened, just curious at why he was actually helping her. No one ever did that, it was always just the fights, and the punches. "Yeah, well, when you come from the roughest place around, New York, you'll know when a weapon is needed.", she stated, while standing up, drenched in a thick layer of muck. The boy's face lit up at that note, "I'm Ponyboy. Now, I don't come from that New York of yours, but a friend of mine does. You should meet him, his name is Dallas Winston. Or otherwise know as Dally, or Dal.". Synthia grinned at the fact that he was making an effort to be her friend, or at least she thought he was. "Hmm. If he comes from New York, he musn't be the softest buddy to hang out with, now is he?" she questioned, while pushing her switch-blade back into her jean pocket. Ponyboy shook his head, "Naw. Ol' Dal was never one to cry, even when Tim broke a few ribs of his. Hey, you heading home?". Synthia nodded, "Yup. Oh, and my name's Synthia, in case you were wonderin' and all. Usually people just call me Sal', as if that makes any sense. I guess people these days are to lazy to use full names.". Ponyboy smiled. This conversation continued for a while, until Ponyboy was suddenley walking Synthia home. She felt grattitude at that, and also confusion as she recalled Ponyboy's name in her mind. No one would ever had the guts to spill that kind of name in New York, I guess people here are more open, and less offended. This would be something that Synthia would soon come to like.