The rust spotted my whole reflection. I could see only bits and pieces of my body around the old tarnished sink. I've always been a pale boy, my skin was always snowy white and practically see through when I was cold. I was rarely ever cold anymore in this washed out reformatory, it was always so hot in here. Today though, I was cold. I lay on my back listening to the shrill screams from a few doors down. I heard what I guessed to be Ava delivering a brand new pack of Kools to Park just one cell down.
"Youse is running a high price. When are youse supposed to be out?" Her accent was thicker than most of ours. Especially Park, I'm not sure where he lived the first few years of his life, but it sure as heck wasn't here.
"Thanks doll. Four months or so I think. As long as they don't make me go talk to the high Happy Hippy. They took my knife about a week ago so I can't make tallies no more." His voice was deep and gruff, even though they were barely whispering, his voice carried and echoed.
She was a good gal for him. Crazy ole' thing though. She was loyal , to Park, to all of us. I dug Ava. She was something different. Park really liked her, too. It was weird seeing some big tuff hood falling for a sweet little thing. Not to sell her short though, Ava was one crazy badass. Her dark curly hair wrapped around a soft and rounded jaw. Her skin was a creamy white not really pale or see through like mine though. But it was her grin that was her signature feature. Her thin pink lips grimly smiled. It was wicked and sinister and she was always up to something.
94...95…96… The cries were overwhelming. Everything about this whole d*mn place was overwhelming. I moved back over to my lumpy mattress in the corner. I couldn't bear to look any more at my beaten reflection. Not when I knew the same pain was coming to the boy just a few doors down. 106...107...108… As I stared into the springs and bars of the bed above me I let my mind race off. It was something any of us seldom had the chance to do anymore. I let myself wonder about the outside world I had been in here for nearly seven weeks according to my tallies and hadn't seen a lick of sunlight. I let myself wonder how it felt to feel the cool drops of rain running down my face, or the crisp cool air on my body. I let myself wonder about my mother. Was she worried about me? Did she even know where I was?
The air was cold all around as I wrapped my jacket further around me. It didn't help much. It was much too small and had many holes in it. I stood outside my open window listening to my Mother scold me yet again, "Dallas James Winston, Get your butt back out here! Why have you let us down again? Youse is a worthless no good hood. JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER! Dallas we are hungry, and it's all your fault, why didn't you provide us with…"
Her furious voice was cut off by the sudden rumble in my stomach. My ribs ached and I felt sick nearly every minute. It had been approximately 36 hours since I had my last meal. Fed most of it to my sister, Emily though. She was just a little thing; probably needed it more than me. After all I was ten and she was only three. It was like my Mama forgot to feed her sometimes so when I had food I tried to give her some. I knew she was trying: she had to be. She was just tired from work is all. I knew she loved us even if it was in some weird twisted way, she just had a hard time of showing it. I shuffled down the dark alleys of New York, looking for a nearby gas station or convenience store. I found one just down the road a little. Joe's was written in faded red letter across the top of the store.
As I waded through the aisles, I pocketed various items. I felt horrible about it, this wasn't right, but I was just so, so hungry. I needed to get some food for Em and Mama too. As I reached for a bag of chips to store in my jacket, I heard the heavy steps of an overweight man coming down the lane. The mop in his hand suggested that he worked there. "Youse gonna pay for that kiddo?" I gulped. The large man waddled closer to me. My eyes trained on the floor in fear. It wasn't the first time I Had stolen, but it was the first time I was caught. "Whatcha got in your coat, boy?" His accent was thick but not hard for me to understand. He took a firm grasp of my sleeve and pulled quite hard. "Hey leave me alone, mind your own business."I attempted. He didn't let go, instead gave a single more sharp tug. My brown leather coat fell of my left shoulder and the contents I had saved up, all spilled across the tile floor. My cheeks flamed and I tried to run. Unfortunately, the old man had a tight hold on the collar. He walked me over to the phone on the wall, chocking me slightly in the process. I was a goner for sure. I struggled in his grasp until I heard the tell- tale sign of a police siren.
They called my Mama once we reached the police station. They told me she could come bail me out with a very low charge since I was young and hadn't actually stolen anything yet. I remember when they handed me the phone to talk to her. I had to pull it away from my ear 'cause she was screaming so loud. "Dallas what the heck were you thinking. You nasty no good brat. Delinquent hood." She continued on for several minutes each word cutting to the core. After a while she calmed down a bit. "I will be there for you in an hour Dally." She said. "Promise Mama?" I didn't want to admit I was scared but the shakiness of my voice gave me away. "Uh-huh sure." Mama never came for me that night, or any other night for that matter. It was about three or so years ago and counting.
181...182...183. I stopped counting. My thoughts didn't allow for anything but complete blankness. My scenes and emotions were on overdrive. I took a deep breath, but ended up sputtering anyways. The scent was musty and clogged up your natural scenes. My lungs only could breath in the filthy air, and it seemed my veins ran with the vile plumbing. Every boy that ever stepped foot into this disgusting place was a living breathing person created solely off this wasteland.
My head was pounding inside my skull as the odor of smoke trickled into my lungs. The ground below me was cold and soothing on my warm body, perhaps if it seemed to be more acceptable I would have laid on the floor to sooth my burning temperature, or taken my shirt off like many of the others had. That is, if I didn't care so much about the tokens of my punishment. The dark colors decorated the boys bodies in grotesque shapes. It sickened me, How could the world hate a child? As the cards were being dealt again I sneaked a peak at King and his boys' faces. They like to hassle us outta our peanuts by cheatin'. When I looked up though, they weren't there. It worried me, a lot of us were there and King and his gang didn't normally try and start trouble with the guards, but that's not to say the never have before. As I continued to survey the room everything seemed to be in order. Jack kept glancing at his hand, in what I assume is awe at a lucky deal. He never really could keep a good poker face, it's why he was easy to beat. That's why everyone was easy to beat. The longer you played with someone the easier it becomes to find thier tell. Every person has this fatal tell that when picked up on by an opponent can be the end of the game. That's the only reason I can contest with these guys, I can even keep up with Park on a good night. Although, he was kinda like me, he was a lot harder to read. Park was the boss around here. He stood only in question by the King's gang. I both respected him and feared him, in this hell it was one in the same though. He had saved my hide when I first got here. I often got picked on by Charlie King, and his boy's I wasn't really sure why. It wasn't as if I had ever done anything to them. They called me things so vulgar they made my head spin, all while beating me to a pulp. I had a black eye and split lip when Park first found me. He was probably about three years older than me, so I'd say about sixteen. Charlie being almost 18, thought he should be in charge of all of us boys, but as long as Park was here that would never be the case. I'm not really sure what he did to the Kings' boys to get them to back off of me, but the only thing I had received since were some hateful glares.
Today though, I was in a different world. My poker game didn't have a chance unless I was payin' attention. Why wouldn't the King's be here? All the sudden a bunch of little kids walked through towards the edge of the room. Just like all the other rooms in the reformatory, the room could be locked by the sliding rod iron door. I recognized a few of the kids as King's boys but a few of them were with Will Bridges' gang: The Back Street Bridges. Often times The New York Kings and The Back Street Bridges got along, I think it was because they always seemed to be up for some kind of illegal children grinned manically and giggled in spite of all the confusion. Other than the kids beastly laughin' not a sound could be heard. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Park stand up cautiously trying to address the situation. All of the other boys in the room heads flicked to the sight of the disturbance in stillness. They followed his path as the kids stepped back. For every step Park took towards the little boys, the boys took back. It seemed as if the room worked in perfect tandem. The strides in sync along with the constant heavy breathing from all the rest of us.
The boys stepped past the limit of the gate wicked expressions still painted on their disgusting deceiving faces. Abruptly they stopped though. It was like all the peace in the room was vacuumed out in mere seconds. The supposed leader of the hellions was Ricky Bradley he couldn't be anymore than maybe seven years old. The little hellion looked identical to his older brother Carter Bradley. Small faced, dark eyed pure and utter demon. It runs in the family. Ricky took a sharp hold of the rod ironed door and grasped it stiffly between white knuckles. I could see his hands were a little sweaty from the heat by the way his fingers wrapped around and around the single rusted bar. Ricky looked into the leak that fed a small stream of water by the door. The stream ran over by the tip of his worn leather boots. The reflection of the water seemed to act as a mirror as he suddenly caught me staring at him with worried eyes. He sneered. I ran. I ran through the midst of confusion and fear and silence. If that door closed we would have no way out, our fae would lay in the hands of the boy's who weren't in here. The pieces of the puzzle must have clicked together for Park as well as he lunged for the door and made eye contact with me. Ricky didn't waste anymore time as he slipped his grip from the forgotten bar. The cell room slammed shut, and Kyle Marks threw Bradley the keys. He hastily locked the door. The once confuse struck faces looked ruined with fear. The panic seemed to set in and the danger was imminent. We had to hope the young boys didn't squeal. The booze and Kool smell wouldn't look too good in a reformatory for rebuilding damaged boys. It probably didn't help our case that everything that we had with us was undoubtedly hot.
The boys all around me looked around, several of them reached out of the bars with seeking hands for the youth who had long since run. The cell went into lockdown, the lights shut and the sirens blared an ear pitching song. The shrieking red light timed a glow that illuminated everyone's faces by matter of methodical time. I stood as bodies fled around me in without acknowledging my presence. I crouched as low as I could possibly get, tired of being ramed by boys much larger than me. My turtle like form didn't help as much as I intended as I was frequently stepped on and kicked. I felt a strong grip yank on my arm and force me back to my feet. Park stood before me with smoldering eyes. He was infuriated, even more so as we heard the tell- tale sign of the guards checking all the cells for prisoner escapes, that was the reason they were on lockdown in the first place. Someone got out of here. I wasn't sure that was even possible. I had never seen anyone's eyes look so concerned. It wasn't really an emotion that I recieved often, it was probably also the emotion I had the hardest time read on other people's faces. He studied me for a little while, scanning every inch of flesh to see if I was okay. Although after he concluded I was fine he glowered at me. He in simple terms, just looked dangerous. We stood staring eyes to eye, his steely grey orbs dug into my bleak ice blue ones. I could tell he wasn't really mad at me, nor was he really looking at me. More so looking through me, trying to formulate a plan to save our hides. Park was a lot of things, but a coward was not one of them. He would always face the music never leaving a man behind. Even as a thug, Park had many things to admire. The siren's song still blared all around us and now we could hear heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. We could not see anything though, the boys had long since retracted their hands from the iron bars as the metal shutter fell as it always does when the reformatory is in lockdown. The large grey structure prevented most of our vision from the outside world. Except for the small window nearly eight feet in the air along the far wall. It like all the other things in the trap hole was fastened by vertically placed bars. I was so sick and tired of those bars, they severed us from the outside world. I wasn't always sure though, I had heard countless times it was to keep the bad out of here so some of us boys had a chance to become pure and good again. I truly wondered though, was it the outside world they were hiding us from, or were they hiding the outside world from us. The metallic smack of the shutter startled me enough to bring me back into sensibility. Guards lined the newly opened wall, and fumed in a psychotic manner. I flittered in the shell of my skin, we had no way out, no way to escape whatever was to come next.
I recognized too many familiar faces, Officer Kyle, Sargent Ryland, so many guards I knew from my disturbing experiences. There was a face that particularly stood out to me though. Charlie King. His slicked off centered jet-black hair fell in mops across his forehead as he emerged from the back of the pack. He looked too proud for the situation at hand. His eyes glinted darkly at us all, especially me. Our eye contact was nothing short of full blow heated. It took me a second to realise what had him this high-flown. The scheme was his. There was nothing left good for us here.
A day didn't go by where all the boys trapped in this hole didn't question the price of killing another one just to get their traps. My eyes bore into the concrete wall. My glare licked every line and traced every imperfection. I remained in a fixed position for nearly a week. The stoney tick marks lined the soles of my boots as a measurement of how long we've been in this pestilential prison. My ribs ached in a fiery sensation from lack of eating. The only source of food we had was Ava sending in hot goods from the window. I'm not exactly sure how she reached it, being only about 5'5". I sat imaging ways she could have reached the window, perhaps she wore really high heels like the ones I have seen her prance around in before only higher. Maybe she stood on the back of her latest take down, as he sat grumpily like a mule the backs of her shoes digging into the soft flesh of his neck. I pondered countless things as I sat here, my body eating alive, as my mid slowly destroys itself. The air reeked. More than a few boys have suffered from starvation and lost their lives from the fact. The world was a cruel place and I was staring at the consequences first hand. Most of us were in here for something stupid like robbing a gas station or getting into a brawl with a neighbouring gang. Those were fitful crimes often paid for the price of a life. What was the price for a human life? What made one human more worthy of surviving than another? The heat made the stench of death unbearable. It rotted in my lungs, and often I found it increasingly harder to breath. Nobody asked to live a life full of suffering, but that's it seemed us boys' always had in common.
They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die. It seemed a little cliche to me at first. But as I faded in and out of consciousness I had weird recollections of memories that seemed to not happen to me, more as though I was a spectator. I knew that they were me, in some weird way. But it just didn't seem real.
My head was spinning and I couldn't see straight. The blood pouring out of the gash in my thigh made me weak and dizzy. It might have just been the liquor Park had given me, a bottle he grabbed from the confines of the reform school;said it would take the bite out of the pain. I ran alongside Ava and Park trying desperately to stay on my feet. Focusing on Ava's curly brown hair was difficult, it swayed and bounced down her back and made me feel nauseous. I took up the rear willing myself to make just ten steps farther. My breaths were shallow but in pace with the loud treading behind me. I was slipping; they were gaining. What was I running from? Suddenly I couldn't remember who I was running from, or even why I was running in the first place. Park took a sharp left into the darkness of a brick alley. Without completely understanding what just happened, I took the corner way too sharp. My brain couldn't track the movements that Park made. The corner of the wall made a stinging contact with the front of my head. My skull cracked against the pavement, and my ears rang. It was much too hard to focus on anything but the black dots that prickled at the corners of my eyes. Ava stopped and run to my aid. The footsteps were getting closer. Ava's voice was soft and methodical, much like my own mother or sister. She often talked like this too Park when she thought no one would hear. It was nurturing and careful. I hadn't seen my family in years, they might be gone and I would never see them again. For all I know, my own mother didn't actually care for me, and Emily was probably starving or dead. Their voices swarmed in my head; I felt like I was going to hurl. I regained composure as I felt warm droplets on my cool cheeks. Thump. Thump. Thump. Heavy boots pounded the pavement.
Ava fizzled back into my vision her voice smooth as honey, "C'mon Dallas. Dal we got to go. We've got to go now. Come on Dally Please!" She pleaded with my semi-conscious form.
I couldn't push her away. My brain was telling me to stand up, get out of here, get her out of here, DO SOMETHING! I was unbelievably lost. Everything swam and floated around me. The closer the guards got the more detached I became to the situation.
Thump. Thump. Thump. "Ava!" "Ava!" Deep hollow sounds. Deep crimson droplets fell into a pool soaking through my flannel shirt. The blood fell from strands of my white hair, now dyed to look a sickly pink. I knew then I was drowning, even if I wasn't near a lick of water.
The steps came closer again. There was no doubt they were closing in on us. Her body kept rattling as Park pulled at her arm, trying to get her safely around the corner. His voice was menacing now, it shook the ground and made everything more fuzzy, "Ava, the hell? We need to go NOW! Ava, leave him be, get out of here." She hardly budged, tears streaking lines of back watercolor on her porcelain cheeks.
Why was she standing here? She shouldn't be standing here with a no good hood like me. Her hand gripped mine tightly as she attempted to coax me to standing again. The sounds of the guards finally closed in. It was confusing as to why I couldn't get my body to function. I tried to stand, although all I could manage was a half hearted sit up, with one knee tucked under my body. Park was screaming intelligible nonsense, his voice rumbling off the walls of the alley. It was frightening, too overwhelming to process. I figured, I was just a kid I wouldn't have it as bad off. Well at least not as bad as Ava or Park for busting out of the reformatory with armed forces. Hot weapons none the less. The longer I laid there the more it hurt to realize the only two people I cared about now were more than willing to leave me here as a sacrifice. Ava didn't move though. All parties involved knew she needed to get out of here. The guards coming would be shooting to kill. Who would care if a few criminal kids got "lost" under police watch? No one would even turn a head, bat an eyelash. Ava had to leave now and get safe, the scene was a time bomb and all parties involved knew it. The sirens and the crashing steps were there. Park took in a sharp breath as he smashed himself against the rough, jagged brick; whispering at Ava in session again. The guards scrambled closer shouting obscenities over Ava's loud, noisy sobs. Her cries shook her body as well as my arm that was gripped tightly between her white fists. She was warm like summer, or maybe a soft bed in the morning, contrast to my cold, shaking form.
Suddenly she was moving up, knees solidifying under her weight. If I thought I was cold before, I was undoubtedly ice now. She rocked on two feet, half her body facing the advancing guards, half facing a shaken up, livid Park. She started towards him and my heart fell farther, but she quickly turned around a look of determination crossing her face. Ava took a final look at me, it was the first time I had truly focused on anything in what seemed like a lifetime. Her hair stuck to the sides of her face but was frizzy on top, creating a type of devil's halo. Her sooty eyes grew darker with every movement she made. She bit the insides of her blotchy red cheeks. She then darted towards the cops. "Please, help him. He's hurt. Hold your fire! Please." She pleaded and begged and the defenselessness in her voice was clear. My eyes shot out of my head. The girl was going to get herself killed! Ava held her hands up in a halt motion, as the guards collapsed around her. She reached for something shiny in her jacket, appearing as if she was trying to drop it slowly to the ground. Her fingers wrapped delicately around the handle the heater cautiously. "Ava, No!" Park's strong voice startled the scene in front of me. Several of the guards pulled their guns higher on their body, many were too nervous to shoot. I saw Park begin to creep around the corner of the ally exposing himself for the first time. I saw one of the guards shake in terror as the number started to even out. Quickly, Park started toward her. It was too late.
Shots echoed of the cavernous walls of the secluded alley way. I covered my head, slamming myself low on the ground, dizzying myself further. "AVA!" I peered between my closed hands watching a horror unfold. She hit the ground with a solid thump. Two bullets embedding themselves into her soft skin. One right above her left chest, one right below her hip bone. Her porcelain skin streaked and sprayed with metallic blood. It was so much darker than I had expected. The guards stood transfixed on her dying form. It appears they were shell-shocked that they had actually killed someone. A kid none the less. The gun fire fell silent,as did the rest of the area. The silence was only broken by a session of rapid rising and falling breaths. Ava's chest rose and sank quickly. Park's struggling form cradled her head in his lap. His massive hands ran over her damp hair. She blinked fast as well. It was like her whole body was on overdrive. I hobbled over as quickly as I could. My feet barely supporting me, my vision swimming once again. Lines blurred, colors merged, I couldn't really make anything out besides Ava's resting form. I sat as close as I could, no one really acknowledging I had moved. I grasped her hand, and I could already feel the warmth draining from her hands. Her lips turned into her signature smirk. One eyebrow barely raised, lips curled into the sides of her cheeks. Her eyes went stale, her hand fell from my own. I reached out to touch on of her bullet wounds. My hand closed in on the gooey liquid. My fingertips dipped into it, staining them an inky red. I was jerked in such a way that I tumbled head over heels into the peircing road. My eyes wandered to the only suitable subject to which caused me to fall. Park stood tall, protectively over Ava's dead body. His steely gray eyes looked jet as he stared at me. His face glew in his furious state. His build convulses with every word he spit at me, "You killed her! You no good hood can't you see what you've done. Get away from her! Don't ever touch her again. You ruined her. She was perfect! She was perfect.." His voice trailed and cracked with his last sentence.
I cowered away from him. "No, Please. You don't understand… Please..NO, I…" My voice faltered with every word as I rapidly shook my head. He was wrong. Ava couldn't have died because of me. She was going to be okay. She'd get up any second, ragging on Park and I for letting her hit the ground so hard. It couldn't be because of me. I started closer toward her again when Park reached the ground to retrieve the gun. Her picked it up, pointed directly between my eyes. The guards scurried away, terrified of a hood who wouldn't hesitate putting a nice new hole right through their skulls. I stepped back again, nearly tripping over my swaying feet. I continues to walk back away from Park. He was dangerous, my protector was putting me in ultimate danger.
"Dallas Winston, you best be getting the heck out of here. Get! You stupid delinquent. If I ever see your ugly hood mug again around I won't hesitate to kill you. You killed her Dallas. She's dead. She's dead, Dallas." His voice was soft and low, I think I would have preferred his yelling. His arm extended as he gestured at Ava with the gun, before pointing it back between my eyes with pride. Park was always more scary when he was quiet. "Get lost HOOD!"
I staggered away. I leaned on the wall of the alley and scooted farther and farther. I turned my head to look back at Park and Ava for one last time. She laid motionless, and he sat in a heap his head in his hands quietly crying, the gun forgotten.
Some many weeks later…
My pocket sagged under the weight of the cash and change in my pocket. It always seemed that when I stole something it was heavier, more dangerous. The bucks in my too small denim jeans would get me somewhere. Anywhere was better than here. Anywhere. My legs crossed at the ankle, my back molded against the faded black pole of the bus stop. My thigh ached and I pulled open the already slashed rip in my jeans. The wound was angry red, and likely inflamed. I heard the screeching tires pulling across the chilled pavement. Spring in New York wasn't exactly the warmest, and it was a drastic contrast to the blistering heat in the reform. The bus pulled up to my stop and I struggled to find my balance after having a hard time standing. The doors swung open and almost hit me square in the chest. The woman who was driving the bus looked scary. She had burnt orange hair and a small freckle above the top left corner of her shrilly lips. Her chapped lips cased a half spent Kool. "You comin' or what?" Her voice croaked. I hesitantly stepped into the fossil of a bus. The empty seat in which I sat in wreaked of dust and sweat. My head leaned against the foggy window and I drew shapes in the fog. I drew Mom and Em. I drew me and Park nursing a box of Kools, a full bottle of booze in his hand. I doodle the shining light of a police car, I drew the tip of a brand new heater. My hand froze mid design. My hand shook as it fell into my lap. I pulled down the sleeve of my checkered blue shirt I lifted a few days ago. My eyes squeezed shut and I stared into the blackness of my eyelids. The red and blue lights haunted me.
I must have fallen asleep. I felt slow and groggy and I wasn't sure where I was. The sun was beginning to rise so I figured I must have slept through the day. I looked for any clue of where I could possibly be. The ground outside looked kind of barren. The dirt was tinted with a reddish hue, there was no hills in sight. A rickety old sign popped into view. The stained rotten wood read Welcome to Tulsa: Oil capital of the word. Tulsa? I could live with that. I slugged off at the next stop. Taking in my surroundings as I walked. I saw a little Gas station down the road called the DX. There seemed to be a few boys running around down by one of the cars. They looked as if they were trying to lift a fancy hubcap off a slick new muscle car, giggling the entire time. The boys were clothed in holey jeans and flannel t-shirts. Similar to my own appearance. I walked the other way, I wasn't looking for any trouble… not yet at least. My shoes scuffed in the loose dirt as I wandered down the road in the opposite direction of the two boys. I walked along the tired railroad tracks, not really paying any attention to anything anymore, just kinda looking for a place to spend the night. "Eh grease? You gotta problem? Don't you think you're a little too close to our side?" The snotty voice came from the West side. A boy who looked to be about the same as me stared at me with dark pits for eyes. His curly blond hair sat atop his head in a tangled mess. He looked to only be about fourteen just a year older than myself. "You hear me you little grease monkey? Say Randy ,boys, why don't we teach this little brat a lesson." His voice was menacing, I stood my ground though. Shoulders square, chest puffed out in a little bit of pride. Him and the other few boys charged at me like a herd of bulls. The first boy, the one who yelled at me swung a slow fist that sank into my stomach. I was too sluggish to react in time, I was weak from lack of food and a hurt leg. I got a few good hits into the curly haired boy, a sharp swing knocked his nose clear off his face. Well not exactly, but it crunched and blood sprayed in all directions. My knuckles ached on impact but I had a little more in me. That is, until the three other boys jumped in the fight to save the wimpy guy's *ss. One tall lanky boy grabbed me from behind and slammed two hands over my ears, effectively disorienting me. I was on the ground in seconds all three boys throwing punch after punch leaving fresh bruises on my damaged skin. One of 'em kicked the injury on my thigh. Searing pain shot through my entire body and I cried out in anguish. It hurt like hell.
Suddenly, two of the boys were ripped off my body in haste. The third boy froze in fear as the two boys were pummeled by the dark headed stranger. The one that got up and ran yelled back, I think his name was Randy, "C'mon Bob! Let's get out of here!" The boy I got a good shot was nursing a bleeding nose as he scrambled to stand and run away. Eventually, the other two were released from the tall stranger and they ran as well. The boy extended his hand to me. He had soft blue green eyes, and dark red brown hair that fell on his head a little bit. Sweat clung to his forehead and ran into his eyes, and his other hand whisked it away. I grabbed his stretched-out hand and struggled to pull myself up. His stocky arms bulged under supporting most of my weight. As I stood, I noticed another boy standing there. He looked similar to the older one, but he had freckles splayed underneath his vibrant green eyes. His hair looked more auburn, but it was still easy to tell they were related. The boy couldn't have been any older than ten or eleven years old, while the older had to be at least one or two years older than me. I sized them up, why would they help me? A deep smooth voice shook me out of my trance, "Pony c'mere, Hi, My name is Darryl and this is my little brother Ponyboy."