The Right Side Of Wrong

by One Wish Magic

We all know that Darrel Curtis was always to "smart" to be a Greaser and the only reason he was not a Soc was because he would not turn his back on his brothers and the gang. Story about the gang and how they became friends and brothers.3RD CHP SPLIT UP!

1. Who Really Is Darrel Curtis?

Disclaimer: I do not own the outsiders. They belong to S.E. Hinton I only hope to do justice to her wonderful characters.

This first Chapter is mainly about Darry, simply because he is the oldest in the story and thus I can write more about him.

I am a little nervous this is my first big story. So here it goes:

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Darrel Curtis, it was not the most remarkable name in the world, in fact he lived with two of the worlds more exceptionally named people. Neither was it the most original name, that title once again went to his two younger brothers. No one would ever forget the first time they were introduced to Sodapop or Ponyboy. But yet Darrel Curtis was a name that everybody knew and with good reason. In the battle for hierarchical status that is middle school, you couldn't get higher than Darrel Curtis. Straight A's effortlessly in every subject. Charming good looks that would make girls want to double back down the corridor just to get a second glance. The finest and naturally toned body in the grade. Son of two of the worlds best lawyers and the schools rising sports star.

Or so the stories went anyway, the truth however was vastly different. He had studied hard for those A's, although he did have a natural aptitude for understanding things fully the first time. He looked the spitting image of his father when he had been his age so he could hardly say that his looks were all his own, or original either, and it was not like he paid any attention to the love struck girls in his grade, all that excessive eye battering and giggling got on his nerves. He couldn't even say his name was original like his brothers either, he had the exact same name as his father. His muscle tone defiantly was not natural, he had been pumping weights for the past five months, under the close supervision of his father. His parents were not high class lawyers, his father built houses and his mother worked two jobs to bring extra money into the house. A waitress by day and behind a bar by night. Finally he had worked tirelessly to be as good as he was now at football.

Sometimes he resented how all the wild stories about him portrayed him as being the kind of person who never tried but just seemed to do everything right. He had worked damn hard over the past few years and built himself up to what he was now, but no one seemed to have noticed. But then, wasn't it all the wild stories that made Darrel seem such a mysterious person, and there were plenty of them flying around. The latest of which involved him and the head cheerleader, who he was not going out with. That was in fact one of his best friends Christopher Taylor, who had recently started to 'digg' girls. But really even if he tried to explain the truth who would believe him, they would still go on believing their wild stories and thus Darrel had concluded was the best way to keep things. Anyway, it was always a laugh of a Monday morning to find out about the new rumors spreading round the school.

"Sodapop! Ponyboy! Hurry up or we're going to be late!" Darry called to them from the foot of the stairs, pulling on his red and white soccer team jacket. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his dark, baggy denim jeans and slumped against the wall, sighing exasperatedly. Why did his brothers insist on leaving everything to the last minute.

"Darrel," called his mothers voice, "Aren't you ready yet? Two-bit will be here any moment." Darry pushed himself up off the wall and walked up to the kitchen door, sticking his head around it he said;

"I am ready, it's Soda and Pony again. Can't you just take them to school instead?" His mother was washing and drying all of the cups, plates and bowls that had been used for breakfast earlier in the morning.

"No, I have to go to work and their school is on the way to yours and you are walking that way with Two-bit anyway," she said placing the three newly dried bowls back into the cupboard. Darry scowled making sure that his mother didn't see it.

"Two-bit's here," announced his fathers voice from the living room as the door slammed shut.

"Morning Mr and Mrs. C," called Two-bit merrily strolling into the kitchen.

"Morning Two-bit," came the simultaneous reply. Darry hid his grin. Two-bit made his way out into the hall towards Darry.

"Hey man," he said giving Darry a light slap on the back, to which Darry returned, "You ready?" asked Two-bit.

"I am yeah, but Ponyboy and Soda aren't," sighed Darry leaning once again back onto the wall. Darry took in Two-bits clothes, his tight fitting washed out, Grey jeans, his scuffed shoes and his loose fitting light blue Mickey Mouse top. Darry swore the kid had a Mickey Mouse obsession or something, he seemed to have a Mickey Mouse top in every colour for every occasion. That was the good thing about Two-bit though, he wasn't afraid to do something just because of what people might think. Round their neighborhood at 10 you were supposed to have well outgrown such childishness as Mickey Mouse. Two-Bit however was not the type to stop doing something just because someone said so, or because it was expected, he openly flaunted this attitude at any chance.

Two-bit took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs, merrily tapping his feet on the floor in a rhythm.

"Ponyboy! Sodapop! Hurry up now or I am leaving without you," shouted Darry reaching the end of his patience, this was getting ridiculous now.

"Were coming," shouted Soda back sounding a little annoyed. Finally, thought Darry rolling his eyes.

There was a loud bang as what sounded like a wardrobe door was slammed shut upstairs. Followed by heavy footfalls as Soda made a point of stomping down the stairs, quickly followed by Ponyboy. Darry fought hard to keep a straight face but Two-bit burst out laughing. Soda did not look pleased, he folded his arms sullenly and glared at the two older boys. Darry looked away from his two younger brothers hiding his smile. Ponyboy had obviously decided to dress himself unaided this morning, his lime green t-shirt was on inside out and the wrong way round, one leg of his blue jeans was tucked into his odd socks and his shoes were on the wrong feet. He did however look very pleased with himself. Soda was not nearly as bad but his disheveled appearance suggested that he had spent more time trying to persuade Ponyboy that he was dressed wrongly than getting himself ready. His mid-length hair stuck up in odd tufts and it did not look like he had had time brush it, and his brown baseball boots hung loosely off his feet with the laces dragging behind. Darry sighed, looked like he was going to be late again this morning.

It took a while to convince Ponyboy that he was dressed wrongly and for Darry to fix him. Two-bit tried and failed three times to tie Soda's laces, the look of sheer concentration on his face was comical. Darry finally took over, Two-bit slumped off to the kitchen mumbling about the complexity of laces and how everyone should just wear buckles and have done with it. Darry quickly got Soda to run a brush through his hair before handing his brothers their backpacks and chiding them impatiently into the kitchen.

Mrs. Curtis bent down to kiss each of her sons before they left. Darry tried to pull away but she grabbed his head and planted an extra soppy kiss on his cheek.

"Mum," he moaned, hastily wiping his cheek, he was far too old to be being kissed by his mother now. She sighed and smiled sadly.

"How quickly your growing up these days," she said. Darry rolled his eyes, not this again. What did she want him to do stay a child forever? She had Ponyboy and Soda for goodness sake.

"Yeah okay mum. We are going now, see you later." He began walking toward the front door followed by Soda and Ponyboy. Two-bit stuck out his cheek to Mrs. Curtis. She laughed softly and gave the boy a quick kiss before he scurried off to join her sons. Two-bit had been around their house so much the past two years that sometimes she felt like she had gained a fourth son.

"See you later boys," called Mr. Curtis as they left the house. He got the mixed responses of;

"See ya later Mr. Curtis," and,

"See you later dad." He watched as the four boys left the front garden, closing the metal gate after themselves.

Darry set the ridiculously quick pace, his long strides allowing him to cover a greater distance in a shorter time than anyone else. Two-bit bounced along beside him, almost jogging to keep up. Ponyboy and Soda lagged behind having no hope to keep up with Darry, short of running.

"Do you know what?" asked Darry to no one in particular, "Once, just once. I would like not to be late for school."

"What?" Two-bit cocked an eyebrow, turning towards Darry "You wanna be early?"

"Not even early, just on time would suit me fine," said Darry exasperatedly, waving his hands

"Come on Dar, wheres the fun in that?" laughed Two-bit

"The fun, as you put it buddy. Would be that I did not have to spend the day avoiding the principle. I swear he has got it in for me, he's getting this attendance officer person to look into my punctuality. If it doesn't improve mum and dad will be getting a letter telling them that they are liable to be sued. We are only just making ends meet now, how are they going to be able to fork out an extra hundred dollars to pay a fine?" Two-bits brow furrowed. His face a picture of rare seriousness.

"That bad, huh?" he asked. "Do your parents know about it?"

"Nah man, they have enough worries as it is. Besides they both work and are gone most mornings even before we get up. There is no way they can take Soda and Ponyboy to school, so it has to be down to me."

"What are you going to do man?" he sounded genuinely concerned.

"I don't know, but I will think of something. I have to." Two-bit was struck by a sudden idea and the kind of one that he just had to share;

"How about in the night that you set all the clocks in the house forward an hour, so then you can wake Ponyboy and Soda up an hour earlier and no matter how much they dawdle you will still have an hour left before you leave for school. That way you would never be late." Darry had to laugh, there, right there was a prime example of how much of a scatterbrain Two-bit was. He would always come up with these mad, crazy idea's that must make sense only to him. Coming from anyone else that idea might have seemed remotely reasonable. But coming from Two-bit it sounded utterly preposterous. Also it was completely impractical, in his opinion his parents already got up early enough with out having to wake up an hour earlier than they had too, he also didn't think that they would thank him for making them an hour early for work. Knowing everyone in his house they would all forget to re-set the clocks back to normal time. No, there was just no chance that Two-bit's 'brilliant,' and that word used lightly, plan would work.

"Yeah buddy," laughed Darry sarcastically, "'cause that'll work." He gave Two-bit a light shove and ran off. Two-bit grinned widely and ran after him shouting;

"It's a perfectly good idea Dar."

"Suurree it is," Darry shouted back, drawing out the first word.

When the two reached the corner of Pickett and Sutton they had to stop. Soda and Ponyboy were now so far behind that they had both lost sight of them. Darry leaned casually back against the street lamp waiting for them to finally catch up. Here was another reason why he was always late, he had to spend half of his time waiting for his brothers to catch up with him. It was not like he was late on purpose, he had a lot more to do of a morning than most of the other kids in his grade, if only the principle saw it that way though. If anyone deserved to be punished for being late it was Soda and Ponyboy, not him. Two-bit took a seat on the gray flagstone pavement, slightly out of breath his chest rose and fell quickly.

Almost five minutes later the two younger boys caught up. Soda, Darry noted, did not look happy, but when did he ever these days. Darry swore that his brothers liked to make his life a misery, he did not know which was worse between a sullen and tempestuous eight year old or a six year old who always thought he was right and refused to be told otherwise. His parents had repeatedly told him that it was all part of his brothers growing up and he had been the exact same at their ages, apparently the stubborn six's and the explosive eight's ran in the family. But Darry refused to have excuses made for his brothers behavior.

"Do you know, it is a wonder we ever get anywhere with you two dawdling all of the time," said Darry as soon as Soda and Ponyboy drew level with him and Two-bit, who sensing the tension had suddenly became very interested in a hole he had found in his pocket.

"You two ran off," said Soda stonily, "You know me and Pony can't keep up," he was not about to be blamed for something that was not his fault. Darry was just about to tell him to watch his attitude, when his attention was caught by someone shouting his name.

He looked around before finally spotting Paul Holden on the other side of the street waving his arms at him.

"Hey," Darry called across to him to show that he had saw him. Paul dropped his arms and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his light blue jeans, before casually strolling across the empty road to where Darry stood. The blond haired boy was in his grade. He was the best Half-Back on the school football team.

"Hey," greeted Paul, clapping Darry on the shoulder.

"Hey Paul," Darry returned the gesture.

"Been looking for you," said Paul, shielding his eyes from glare of the bright morning sunshine, "me and a couple of mates are having a few friendly soccer matches today in the 'Old Park' after school, were playing against some guys a few streets away. Nothing major just a group of people doing something they enjoy. We could really use you on our team. What do you say? Can we count on you?"

"I don't know Paul," said Darry hesitantly, "I have to pick my brothers up from school." Darry glanced sideways to where the three boys stood. Two-Bit looking curious, Soda looking even more annoyed than before and Ponyboy looking a little anxious. He sighed, he really wanted to say yes, he loved soccer almost as much as he loved football but he just couldn't leave his brothers to walk home on their own, at least not in their neighborhood. His parents would kill him and he could not bring himself to do that to his brothers, not matter how much Pony and Soda got on his nerves at times.

"Come on they can walk home on their own," pleaded Paul, determined to get his own way.

"They can't," said Darry gravely, "I'm sorry Paul I really really want to but I just don't think - "

"Darry," Two-bit cut him off. Darry turned to face him.

"I can pick them up if you want, I will just tell your parents that you have gone to play soccer in the park and that you will be back soon," offered Two-Bit. Soda and Ponyboy looked longingly at Darry, they loved walking home with Two-Bit, it was always a load of fun. Darry saw his bothers pleading glances, he was a little hurt by them to be honest. But if it made his brothers happy and meant he could go and play Soccer with Paul then he could not see any harm in it.

"You'd do that?" Darry asked hardly daring to believe what he had heard. Two-Bit always seemed to find a way for everyone to do whatever they wanted without having to compromise. He always seemed to put himself out so that other people could do what they wanted to do. It was one of the things that Darry liked most about him, he was a good friend.

"Yeah sure man, as long as you are not hours and hours," replied Two-Bit seriously. Darry almost burst out laughing there and then, Two-Bit was telling him not to be hours, talk about role reversal. Instead he allowed himself a wide grin.

"Thanks Two-Bit," he said earnestly. Turning back to Paul who had been watching their conversation interestedly, he said;

"Well looks like I can come then. What time do you want me to get there?"

"I knew you'd come through," said Paul satisfied, "Just come straight over after schools out, You know which park I mean don't you?"

"Yeah I know which one you mean." Darry could picture the place clearly in his mind. The rich West side kids thought the place was run down, thus they called it the 'Old Park' but Darry thought that there wasn't nothing wrong with it. The paint on the goal posts could use another coat and one of the goal nets had a small hole in but other than that, they were just being picky, there was nothing that could define the park as run down. The rich kids or as they were classed on the West side, the Soc's, short for Socials had to have the best of everything that money could buy.

"Good, see you there then," said Paul turning and beginning to walk away from the gang.

"See you," Darry called after him. After a couple more strides Paul turned round again.

"Oh by the way kid, thanks," he called to Two-Bit before finally walking off.

"Welcome," Two-Bit hollered back, grinning a goofy grin..

"Yeah," said Darry turning back to Two-Bit, "Thanks a lot."

"What can I say," said Two-Bit winking, "I'm just a great guy," he ran his hand through his shaggy, rusty-brown hair messing it up even more to make himself look tuffer. Darry laughed before saying;

"Yeah, with the term guy used lightly there, eh, Two-Bit, more like boy." Darry mocked him good naturedly, "You ain't got no muscle and you haven't even started shaving. Man you have no hope."

Two-Bit gave Darry a mock glare.

"Well Mr high and mighty you can just get down off your pedestal because you haven't started shaving either and you are two years older than me."

"Not yet I haven't but my dad said that it was only a matter of time," said Darry rubbing the smooth surface of his chin.

"Wait and see, in a few months I will have more hair on my face than you have on your head."

"What are you planning to do?" laughed Two-Bit, "Grow a beard? On no, no. Every time some one gets a hair cut, which is not very often in your house I have to say. You are going to go around scooping up all of the hair and then you are going to stick it to your face, in a vain attempt to make me believe that you have somehow grown this stubble all of a sudden." He laughed heartily. Then suddenly, the amusement was gone from his face. Replaced with seriousness, he looked at Darry as if disbelievingly. He uncertainly moved closer to his friend.

"What?" asked Darry just as uncertainly.

"Is that ... could it possibly be?" he mumbled moving ever closer.

"What? What is it?" Darry asked a little more urgently this time.

"Is that stubble I see?" Two-Bit leaned in for a closer look.

"Where?"

"Right ... There!" Two-Bit planted a hefty slap on Darry's cheek. His face was a priceless picture. Two-Bit would have paid any amount of money to get that look framed.

"Oh no sorry," he said barley containing his laughter at the priceless look on Darry's face, "It was just a little dust." Two-Bit had started running even before he had finished his sentence. Darry quickly took after him. Two-Bit's laughter ringing in his ears. He roughly tackled the boy to the ground, as he had done with his opposition so many times before on the pitch, and sat on his chest. Despite the blazing look in Darry's ice cold eyes he was not mad, quite on the contrary. Two-Bit like to take the mick out of people, he saw the golden moments of opportunity that most people seemed to miss and grasped them with both hands. It was one of the things that made him so funny. Darry seemed to be the only one as of yet, who could occasionally outwit him. Two-Bit may not have been real smart but he sure was witty and once he got going there was no stooping him. It got him into loads of trouble, most of the time because he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. He always thought that what he had to say was so funny that it should not just be kept to himself, the world should not be disadvantaged in not knowing, and that his remarks should be shared with anyone who was around to listen. He was of course right as well.

"Ponyboy Curtis!" Darry called. His youngest brother was at his side in moments.

"Tickle him," Darry ordered. Ponyboy grinned widely and approached Two-Bis right side.

"Nooo please," Two-Bit begged his eyes going wide, "Anything but that." The two brothers laughed, Two-Bit was the most ticklish person they knew.

He squealed with laughter as both of the brothers tickled each of his sides. All thoughts of being late and in a hurry completely wiped from Darry's mind. That was until their frolicking came to an end when Soda started shouting his mouth off to Darry.

"You moan at me and Pony for dawdling and making you late and then you mess around yourself! Why is it always one rule for you and another for everyone else?" shouted Soda. The three boy's laughter immediately stopped. Darry helped Two-Bit up, all the while staring daggers at Soda. Ponyboy looked nervously between his brothers. Two-Bit picked him up and held him, he knew full well that Pony didn't understand what was going on between his brothers. Heck, Two-Bit couldn't even make sense of it so how was Pony supposed to he didn't know.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again Sodapop Patrick Curtis," warned Darry dangerously.

"You can't tell me what to do, your not mum and dad," retorted Soda.

"Doesn't matter, I'm your older brother and I know better than you," said Darry coldly and with an air of finality. Soda finally snapped.

"I hate you," he muttered venomously.

"What did you say to me?" demanded Darry, the rage he felt barely concealed in his voice. His tone almost dared Soda to say it again, Soda complied.

"I hate you Darry!" shouted Soda.

If it were not for Two-Bits strong, firm grip on Darry's shoulder he was almost certain that his friend would have charged over to his younger brother and slugged him one. Never before had Two-Bit saw that fiery rage that burned in Darry's usually cold eyes that he saw now.

"Darry!" he said urgently and with just the right amount of emotion in his voice to make the older boy listen. Darry turned towards him, his thunderous expression immediately softening at the sight that befell his eyes. His little brother curled, almost shaking in his best friends arms.

"Dar, your scaring Pony," he said gesturing a tad unnecessarily to the small boy huddled against his chest nervously surveying the scene around him.

"Hey Pony," Darry said his voice low and soothing although fire still burnt in his eyes. He took his youngest brother form Two-Bit's arms.

"It's okay Buddy," he reassured him, "Me and Soda are just a little angry, I'm sorry if we frightened you baby." Ponyboy still looked a little on edge but nodded, sinking into Darry's embrace.

"Lets go then," said Darry with a contemptuous look at Soda.

For the rest of the journey Soda refused to speak to Darry, which he wasn't bothered about at this particular moment, he didn't feel much like talking to Soda either. Everyone was quiet and the atmosphere was tense. Ponyboy walked with Two-Bit as he did not want to get caught up in his brothers argument, as he feared that it would only make matters worse. Darry was contemplating, never before had he been told to his face that someone hated him, least of all by one of his own brothers, and he had to admit it sucked. He didn't know what had happened to him back there, he had just lost it, maybe that was a good example of why Soda hated him, had he been that bad of a brother to him?

He wondered what he had done so badly to Soda to make him hate him. Underneath all of Darry's anger, although he would never admit it, he was hurting. Some one he loved and was supposed to love him back hated him. He had never before in his life heard Soda say that he hated anything. His brother had always been the Happy-go-lucky kind, but as soon as he had hit eight things began to change. Darry himself was only one year away from his teens but sometimes he thought that Soda was more like the up and coming teenager, not himself. Darry thought that there might be something more to it than just the 'explosive eights' as his parents called it and he made a decision at that moment to find out what it was one way or another.

At the school gates Soda hurried off before Darry could say a word. He watched his brother sadly, just wishing him to turn back around, even for the briefest second, just to let him know that things were okay between the two of them despite their earlier harsh words. Soda however did not turn around.

"Don't worry Dar, you two will work this out," Two-Bit reassured him, giving him a bracing slap on the shoulder.

"I know we will," said Darry, he got the impression that he was trying to convince himself with those words more than he was trying to convince Two-Bit. "It just might take some time." He then bent down to say goodbye to Ponyboy.

"See you later buddy," he said hugging his little brother and ruffling his hair, "Have a good day and remember Two-Bit is walking you home, so don't go looking for me. Stay where he can find you." Ponyboy looked up at Two-Bit who winked at him.

"Okay," he said turning back to Darry.

"Later man," he said to Two-Bit, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come and meet me down at the old park later, about half four-ish and we will go for a milkshake."

"Will do," replied Two-Bit merrily. He turned to Ponyboy, "Come on you little monkey, I'll race you," he said.

Darry watched the both of them go until they were firmly inside the school gates. You never could be sure with Two-Bit. He watched the race end and Two-Bit win, with Ponyboy coming a very close second. He didn't think Two-Bit had run purposely slow either. Boy Pony was going to make a great athlete one day. With that he turned away from the gates of the Elementary school and made his way round to the other side of the building, to the entrance to his own Middle School.

All of the four boys went to Tulsa Community School, as did a few others from their neighborhood, everyone else was either of middle class or above. It was the largest school for miles around so everyone in the immediate area went there. It had four main buildings all separated from each other. The smallest of which held the kindergarten classes, this was the most brightly coloured building by far. Pictures and eye catching posters covered many of the first floor windows and there was also a brightly painted Murial on the wall outside. Darry remembered the happy days he had spent in that building when the only thing he had to worry about was what toy was he going to play with next. Not like now, where he worried about almost everything. Then there was the Elementary building where grades 1 to 6 went. This was the largest building by far. The windows in this building concentrated more on slogans than brightly coloured pictures. Displaying posters that said such corny things as; "The Early Bird Catches The Learn" and, "Be Cool. Be In School." Darry always thought that tuff was a better word than cool although they both basically meant the same thing but that was probably only because everyone around by his used tuff and he heard it on a daily basis. Tulsa Community High was located on another site but still counted as part of the school. It was an ominous looking building and it seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in it's scenarist surroundings.

Darry rued the day that he would ever have to step foot into that place. Who you were in Middle School didn't count once you hit High School. The popular kids found that most hard to adapt too. In a mere couple of weeks someone could go from the top of the social status right the way down to the bottom and that is what scared people. The unpopular kids had nothing to lose, for them it was a new start, a clean slate and a chance to do things all over again. But those with status stood to lose everything and Darry was one of those people. But then, who you were in High School didn't really count in the real world either. Darry pushed all of these thoughts to the back of his head, he was only in 7th Grade, all this worrying could be saved until next year.

Finally Darry arrived at the entrance gates of Tulsa Community Middle School. It was all the way around the other side from where he had dropped off Two-Bit, Soda and Ponyboy.

As soon as he stepped through the gates he became a different person, or so it seemed anyway. To everyone around he was now, Darrel Curtis, cool, swerve, good looking sports star. The guy all the girls wanted to date and all the guys wanted to be. Smart, strong, funny and all round good person. All his problems, cares, worries and emotions gone. Hidden under a mask of calmness and a deep, icily blue, piercing stair. This was the one part of his life that no one could intrude on, the one thing that he had shaped for himself. He was proud at what he had achieved, but lately it kind of brought him down. He felt like he was two different people living two different lives, his home life and his school life. He was from the West side which automatically classed him as a Greaser, weather he wanted to be or not, but in school no one knew where he lived, and he was thought of as more of a Soc within it's walls.

He was so different in both 'lives' that he no longer knew in which he was being true to himself. Was he a Soc or Greaser? He had to adhere to rules in the both of them, at home the rules were there to protect him and to keep him safe but in school they only served to keep up a continuous image to everyone around him. He had to be what everyone else expected him to be, but what did he expect himself to be. For so long he had lived up to others expectations with out ever having any of his own. His parents expected him to get good grades, he had studied hard and was now passing every subject with straight A's. His coach had expected him to be better at football, so he trained every day for a year to be the best he could possibly be, eventually being promoted up to Captain. His team expected him pull off amazing downs in every game, so he took every opportunity presented to him to try to pull off ever more spectacular downs. His friends expected him to be a leader to them, a decision maker, so he took charge. The list was endless. Everyone expected something from him and he had lived up to their expectations.

He had got what he had always wanted, but he was no longer sure that it made him happy. Something kept nagging away at the back of his mind, if the people in school found out that he was supposedly a Greaser, would he still be popular, or would he end up like the rest of the kids from his neighborhood. What was the use in being popular when everyone liked a person that wasn't really you. Darry though himself a fake, an impostor, building himself up as something he wasn't. Sooner or later he thought, it was all going to catch up with him But if he really had the chance to change it, to become his so called real self, Greaser or no Greaser, he didn't think he would. Back then though he believed that no one could have taken it away from him. He was wrong.

"Yo Darrel! Wait up will ya'," called a voice behind him. Darry turned round to see a tall medium built blond running towards him through the sea of people. Darry immediately stopped and waited for his friend to catch up. Christopher Taylor, he thought, it was funny how just a name could sum up a person so well. There was not a word yet derived that could fully describe Christopher Taylor, so his name just had to suffice. Although to call him a blond would not be justifiable, his hair was sandy blond and had flecks of brown that ran through it. His eyes were, not a word of a lie, emerald green. He had a handsome face and a dazzling smile. Today he supported an orange sleeveless T-shirt, old worn trainers and a pair of old baggy patchwork jeans. Darry almost burst out laughing, only Chris Taylor could come into school with patchwork jeans and still look tuff – sorry cool. Cool, he reprimanded himself. He could not say tuff here.

"late again?" he asked, regaining his composure, as soon as Chris fell into line beside him. He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly before answering only;

"Yeah," a guilty smile played on his face. Darry rolled his eyes making sure that Chris caught the gesture. Chris gave him a light shove.

"Your late too, every morning I might add."

"I have a lot to do in the mornings, unlike some people." Chris was looking sheepish again. True enough Darry was late every morning, but Chris was always right there along side him. It was not like he had any valid excuse either, he lived what, 10 minutes away from the school and he had no one but himself to get ready and worry about. When all said and done the guy was just lazy. Nothing short of a massive explosion or his grandmother banging a frying pan down his ear would get him up in the mornings and even that was only after eight o'clock.

They walked in silence after that for a bit, each stopping off now and again to say hello to teammates, people from their classes, friends and basically anyone who shouted hello to them.

"No wonder were late all of the time," said Darry as he came back from discussing tactics with one his teammates for the up and coming game.

"That's the price of popularity mate," said Chris, cheerfully waving to the brunet haired head cheerleader who he had just spotted over by the water fountain on the grass verge. He blew a kiss to her which she caught before waving goodbye to him.

"So," said Darry cocking an eyebrow, a trick that he had picked up from Two-Bit, "Whats the deal with you and her? You two together?" Chris turned towards him a mischievous grin playing across his face.

"Ooooh don't think I haven't heard the rumors about you and her Mr. Darrel Curtis," he mocked.

"Just rumors I assure you," grinned Darry calmly.

"You had better hope so, she's my girl." Darry almost took him seriously until he took one look at Chris's face and burst out laughing. Chris was just too laid back to think about warning someone off 'his girl' as he put it. In fact Chris was too laid back to even think about someone else going after his girl. Darry remembered one of his friends telling Chris once that; 'if he were any more laid back he would be on the floor and people would be using him as a welcome mat. He couldn't remember exactly who it had been though.

"You know what they will be saying next don't you?" Chris was saying, "Next it will be that she is going out with both of us and we have all came up with this plan in which we all going to share our love or something," he joked. Darry turned to look at him slightly repulsed.

"Urgh! If that one comes out I am definitely putting my foot down."

"Me too," agreed Chris, "Theres ludicrous, creepy, disturbed and then there's that."

"Too right."

"It amuses me how people come up with all these wild and crazy stories though," mulled Chris.

"It's called having no life, to those people it must almost seem like having a hobby," laughed Darry.

"Wow, that's sad."

"Agreed."

The two ascended up the stone steps that lead into the entrance hall of the building. The corridor was filled with the hustle and bustle of students moving to different classes. There were sounds of laughter, shouting, arguing and a lot of loud conversations. Down the far end of the corridor a large crowd had gathered and were watching a girl have an intensely public break up with her boyfriend.

"Guess we missed registration then," said Chris jamming his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Yeah, lets avoid Digby, if he sees me I will be hauled into his office faster than you can say caught," suggested Darry. Digby was the name of the schools principle. Arnold Digby to give him his full title.

"Good idea," agreed Chris.

As quickly as they could and with trying to draw as little attention to themselves as they could, which was easier said than done when it seemed like every one in the school wanted to say something to you, they both headed down the corridor to their English class. The door was shut and they could already here Mr. Wainwrights voice coming from within.

"You go first, he likes you," whispered Chris pushing Darry forward. Darry glared at him for a moment before taking a breath and opening the door.

"Late again Mr. Curtis, Mr. Taylor," drawled Mr. Wainwright without even looking up from the pile of papers he was sifting through.

"Sorry," they both mumbled and hurried to their seats at the back of the class. Each and every persons eyes in the room darting to them as they walked past.

"Your only supposed to repent for the actions that you do not intend to repeat Misters Taylor and Curtis. So in this instance we shall forget that you said anything." Mr. Wainwright finally looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. His expression was unreadable, just completely blank. The two just grinned sheepishly, taking the empty desks behind their other friends; Craig Smith and Andrew Farrel.

Craig sat up straight, attentive and alert. While Andrew slumped in his chair scribbling something onto the table. He turned round as soon as Darry and Chris took a seat.

Andrew had fair brown sandish hair and ocean like blue eyes .His fine features always gave the impression of an amused look on his face and he seemed to exuberant an air that made him approachable by anyone. He was averaged sized with a well built but toned body. He wore light blue jeans with a baize top and his football team jacket wrapped around his waist. He would never chance wearing the thing off the pitch for the fear that it might get dirty, but that would never stop him from having it with him at all times. That red and white jacket was his most prized possession.

"This class yawns," he informed his friends. Darry gave him a polite smile, not really listening. He thought what Mr. Wainwright had to say held a lot more importance to his education than what Andrew had to say at this precise moment.

Andrew Farrel was not the sharpest tool in the box or even the shed, but he was an all round nice guy who had never been know to have been a jerk to anyone. He was also, next to Darry, the schools best Football player. Sometimes he kind of reminded Darry of a lovable, cute, lost puppy.

"I have marked your essays," Mr. Wainwright went on, "Some of you have done better than I would have expected, while others of you have disappointed me to say the least. Your grades for this essay will be going on you permanent record. If you have done your best then you have nothing to fear, but if you haven't, then I would start worrying now." He started to hand the essays out to the corresponding people.

Darry looked around at his friends. Andrew tapped his foot nervously on the floor, he never really got good grades but he always seemed to do the worst in English. Chris didn't seem bothered but when did he ever and Craig sat completely still, his eyes fixed to the front of the class. Darry knew that Craig had nothing to worry about, he got good marks in everything. Right now though, Darry was more concerned about himself. He thought he had done a pretty good job when he had handed that essay in, but now he wasn't so sure. He thought there were a couple of spelling mistakes in there and he was almost sure that he had messed up paragraph three. To late to worry about it now he told himself.

Mr. Wainwright was getting closer, all around the room Darry could see peoples face's dropping. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach. He needed a good grade

Finally their turns came, first he placed Craig's essay in front of him smiling. He's done it, thought Darry vaguely, he's got another good grade. The Chris's and another smile, although smaller this time, Chris has done it too, he thought, now the pressure was really on. Next came Andrews, no smile this me though. Darry's heart skipped a beat, the suspense was getting to him now. He wanted to know one way or another what he had got. Slowly Mr. Wainwright reached into the ever dwindling pile of essays in his hand and pulled out another one. Darry immediately recognized it as his own due to the fact that it had a small picture of a horse in the bottom corner of the first page, drawn by Ponyboy. It was actually quite a good picture, but it had no place on Darry's essay. Mum had shouted at Pony for doing that and if he remembered correctly he hadn't been to pleased about it either, but he had been in an even greater rush that morning than usual and had no time to re-do it as it was due in that very day. Darry's stomach somersaulted in nervous anticipation.

"Well done Mr. Curtis," said Mr. Wainwright quiet enough for only Darry to hear. He placed the essay in front of Darry and walked away. Darry quickly flipped through the essay and found his grade. A+. Yes! He thought could have run five times around the football pitch with the amount of excitement that he felt at moment. Sure he had gotten A's before but there was something just that little more satisfying about getting an A plus. Also it meant that he could now enroll at the Summer Soccer School that he had set his mind on. Eagerly he turned to his friends.

"What did you guy's get?" he asked excitedly.

"A plus," smiled Craig turning round for the first time, his chocolate eyes twinkling with reserved joy.

"B," said Chris looking rather surprised himself.

"D plus," said Andrew looking disappointed.

"Hey thats almost a C minus," said Darry in an attempt to cheer him up slightly. When they were younger Andrew used to muck around a lot, he always had to play the class clown, and now that he wanted to do something about it, it was too late.

"Yeah. It's alright I don't mind. What did you get Dar?"

"A plus." He had to admit that he felt a little guilty saying his score, especially after Andrew admitting his D.

"Well done," said Andrew genuinely, smiling.

"Hey Craig, you've got competition," teased Chris. Craig smiled at Darry.

"Bring it on," he said.

Craig had dark brown almost black hair and deep chocolate coloured eyes that seemed to hold mysteries, they were like doorways to other worlds. He had richly tanned skin and an air that suggested that he was always miles away.. He was the smallest in the gang and quite slight of build. He wore simply dark blue denim jeans with a white top and trainers.

"Do any of you know where Mitchell James is?" Mr. Wainwright was back again. Mitchell James was the fifth and final member of the gang.

"No sir, we haven't seen him," replied Darry honestly.

"Hmmm. Well if any of you do see him could you please give this to him and tell him that I want to see him?" he said placing Mitchell's scrawled essay onto Darry's table before walking off.

"Lets see what he got," said Chris excitedly as son as Mr. Wainwright was out of ear shot.

"Boy it must be really bad if Wainwright wants to see him," he reached for the essay.

"Wait," said Craig looking uncertain, "Can we do that?" Chris shrugged not really bothered weather he could or not. He would and that was the end of it.

"Darry?" Craig asked, Darry always seemed to be the one that had to make the final decision. He thought hard for a moment weighing up the options.

"I don't really see why not, he wont care either way if we look or not." Chris excitedly flipped through the sheets of paper.

"It still feels kind of wrong, like an invasion of someone's privacy. People put a lot of themselves into what they write," Craig went on. Darry had know Craig for the past four years and he knew that he had firm morals on what he thought was right and wrong. He hated going against them but would if Darry said so.

"Don't worry," he told his friend firmly.

"Ha!" cried Chris triumphantly, "F minus."

"Wow," said Andrew visibly brightening, "Suddenly my D doesn't seem that bad."

"Yeah," agreed Chris, "No wonder he didn't come in this morning." Darry rolled his eyes. Chris had an opinion on everything and he just always had to share it, but then he would rather let other people make the decisions and follow them instead of making a decision himself. He was fairly easy to get along with though as long as things didn't get too deep, or too messy with complicated emotions. Chris was the type of person that didn't understand something until it happened to him. Craig was the deep one, Darry felt that he read more into things than anyone knew, he seemed to understand and make scene of almost anything. Darry kind of admired him for that, there were not many people in Tulsa who were willing to listen to you and try to help you out. Craig was a one off. He was also kind of bookish, but just cool enough to pull it off.

A tinny metal bell rang, signaling he end of first lesson and for students to start making their way to their next lessons.

"Class dismissed," called Mr. Wainwright above the din of scraping chairs and chatter. No one paid any attention to him.

"Urgh Maths," groaned Andrew making his way out of the classroom.

"Algerbbrraa," smiled Chris happily, drawing out the las three letters of the word for full effect. Darry and Craig laughed while Andrew looked confused.

"Wash your mouth out with soap," said Darry swatting Chris over the head with his essay. Andrew laughed finally seeing the humor in what Chris had said. He was always the last to get a joke.

"Ten years later there Andrew," teased Chris.

"Shurrup," he said, giving Chris a shove, "We'll see who's laughing when I whip your ass on the pitch." Chris gave him a look that said; bring-it-on.

"We'll see who's still laughing after I whip all of your asses on the pitch you bunch of sissies," said Darry unable to resist. He gave each of his friends a wallop over the head before running off with Chris, Andrew and Craig hot on his heels. The four of them laughing all the way.

The rest of the morning was a tediously boring affair. Maths followed by Social Studies did not make for a great overall mood. Algebra despite Chris' earlier quip about it's slightly amusing name, was not an enjoyable topic. The combination of numbers and letters swirled around in everybody's heads in a confusing mess. Even Craig was slightly off form, getting an answer not completely right. Boy was everyone glad when the bell rang signaling break.

The lesson after break and before dinner was always a drag, but when that lesson also happened to be Social Studies those fifty-five minutes felt like some form of slow torture. Craig who was the most studious in any class usually found his attention wandering in that lesson. Darry tried his up most to stay attentive and take notes, but he just ended up doodling on the paper in front of him instead of writing anything worthwhile. Andrew took this lesson as an opportunity to catch up on any lost sleep due to excessive training. While Chris just stirred in a fixated way out of the window. Darry had tried that tactic once, it had amused him for all of five minutes. He guessed that he just didn't see what Chris did.

All of this was not helped any by the fact that the teacher that took the class had the most boring voice in the world. He droned on and on and insisted on giving lectures on every minuscule piece of information in the syllabus. Darry thought that the man could cure insomnia if given the chance, just simply by talking. No one knew his name and no one bothered to ask in case they got lectured. Each and every lesson as soon as he welcomed the class into the room, which he insisted on doing, everyone immediately stopped listening. Thank god thought Darry, that he only had to endure this lesson twice a week.

Darry quickly took a sweeping glance around the room, noting that everyone looked about as bored as he felt. He glanced at the clock; 11:50, there were still ten minutes left. Ten minutes could last a life time in this class. But at least he had an hour and a half lunch break to recover before he had to go to fourth lesson. His attention was suddenly drawn to the empty desk beside him. Still no Mitchell.

The second the bell rang everyone was out of the door. Longing for fresh air and the feel of the warm midday sun on their skin

Lunch time found Darry, Chris, Craig and Andrew sitting in the stands of the football pitch. It wasn't strictly allowed, but the coach was pretty lenient about breaking the rules a little for his team, as long as they didn't cause any trouble. Darry knew that it wasn't really fair but then the team worked hard out on the pitch, so he thought they deserved at least one privilege.

Darry sat sprawled across two rows of benches. Chris lay stretched out across one, eyes closed against the glare of the sun. Craig sat a row or two away in the shade and Andrew sat on the rail that surrounded the edge of the stand. All around them lay scattered empty juice cartoons, wrappers, containers and an apple core from their earlier lunch. They would have to make sure all of that went in the bin before the end of lunch, they didn't think that the coach would take to kindly to his pitch being littered.

Andrew broke the easy silence;

"Don't you think Mr. Wainwright looks like a monkey?" There was a moment of of stunned quiet before the other three boys burst out laughing. There was never a dull moment when Andrew was around.

"No seriously," persisted Andrew, "if you swing back on your chair and squint your eyes enough you can almost imagine him as an Orangutan." The three boys only laughed harder, Darry thought he heard Craig mumble something about Orangutans being Apes not Monkeys but he did not pull Andrew up on the matter.

"You do know that you are complete raving loony don't you?" Chris asked Andrew, "I reckon that when you were a baby you were dropped on your head, often."

The four boys were laughing so hard that they did not hear someone approaching them from behind.

"Where's the party?" asked a cool but gravely rough voice. The four boys spun around.

"Well well, nice of you to finally decide to grace us with your presence Mitch," teased Chris.

"Smartarse," grumbled Mitchell, whacking Chris over the head. Chris scowled rubbing the back of his head.

"Any need for the roughness? It's a wonder I'm not brain dead by now the amount of times you all whack me over the head."

"Shhurruupp," drawled Mitchell, taking a seat beside Darry. Chris scowled again, he would never have a real argument with Mitchell. He believe that arguments were a waste of time in which nothing really got solved, but that didn't mean that he couldn't get a little annoyed from time to time.

Darry had felt the atmosphere change as soon as Mitchell had joined them. He knew that Craig and Mitchell were too extremely different to ever get on and that Craig maybe even feared Mitchell slightly. Andrew felt uncomfortable around him, he always tended to be more clumsy when Mitchell was around, he had confided in Darry that he thought Mitch was always watching him, waiting for him to slip up so he could laugh. Neither spoke very much while Mitchell was around. Chris just went with the flow of things, but there were times when you could see his patience and calm composure starting to fray.

Mitchell was not liked by very may people to be perfectly honest, but they all sure as hell respected him and gave him a wide berth. He was a bit of a loose cannon with a violent temper, the most dangerous out of the group, wild and reckless with no morals, he was a time bomb of pent up rage just waiting to explode. But things hadn't always been that way Mitchell had used to be different, a fun loving guy who lived for the beautiful game that was football. No one knew for certain what had turned him the way he was now, but Darry was almost certain that it had something to do with his home life. He had very rarely heard Mitchell talk of his parents but when he did so, it would always be with contempt.

"Where have you been?" Darry asked. Mitchell grinned before answering.

"Me 'n Rad have bee hunting some action." Darry didn't know what the hell that meant and wasn't sure he wanted to either. It could have been anything from girls or a brush with the law to something incredibly reckless and dangerous that could wind up causing someone to loose their life. Mitchell and Radley James were capable of it all.

"Find some?" Darry asked to make pleasant conversation.

"A little," he grinned, leaning back against the bench behind him, arms folded underneath his head.

It was only then that Darry fully took in how badly he looked. His strawberry blond hair that could almost pass for just blond was limp and untidy. There was something different about his hazel eyes with their touches of green. All of the fights that he had been in recently had left him with a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. His tall, skinny and gangly body type made him look ill. His skin was pasty, his face rather gaunt and his eyes slightly sunken. He didn't look very well off at all. But as per usual his clothes were in a pristine condition. His baize pants had not a speck of dirt on and his red and white checked Madras shirt contained not a single crease. Darry wanted to ask him if everything was alright but he thought better of it.

"So what have I missed?" asked Mitchell.

"Other than our essay results back from Mr. Wainwright, nothing," Darry told him.

"Oh. You know what I got? Bet it was something juicy like a G wasn't it?" he said in a bored tone. Darry reached into his back pack and pulled out Mitchell's essay, handing it to him. Mitchell flipped through it to the last page.

"F minus," he scoffed, "I deserve at least an E handing the damn thing in."

"Wainwright wants to see you as well," Chris informed Mitchell.

"Yeah 'cause thats just going to happen," droned Mitchell, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"I think you should go and see him," said Darry. If any one else had suggested this to Mitchell he would have socked them for questioning and undermining his decision. But not Darry. To Darry he just simply said;

"Why? So he can tell me that I'm failing. I know I'm failing and quite frankly I don't give a damn. It would just be a waste of both of our times." his cocky smile was gone, replaced by a grim slash.

"But he could help you," persisted Darry, "you could bump up your grade."

"I wouldn't accept his help and you know it," said Mitchell gravely. Darry could always get past Mitchell's I'm-a-tough-guy-and-nothing-phases-me bravado. Down to what he really felt, that scared Mitchell, a lot. That tough exterior was all that was holding his volatile inside together, beneath it he was in utter turmoil. He could sense Darry doing it again, getting inside his head and he didn't like it one bit. He quickly changed the subject, firmly replacing his cocky grin on his face and covering up the cracks that had began to show in his exterior.

"What are you all planning to do tonight?" he asked looking at each of his friends in turn, when no one answered and things started to get a little uncomfortable Darry quickly supplied;

"I am going down to the 'Old Park' to have a few games of soccer with Paul Holden and a couple of his mates."

"Nice," said Mitchell reaching into his pocket and retrieving a cigarette and a lighter. He lit the little stick and placed it in his mouth, taking a long drag of it. Darry was almost about to blurt out a string of questions about this new development, but once again thought better of it.

"It'll do good for people to see you walk that way once in a while and I mean actually see you," he went on. For a while now almost everyone in the school had been under the impression that Darry lived on the West side of town, close to Mitchell. This story had been concocted up and helped along by Mitchell himself. Who out of their group was the only one who was above middle class. If Darry had not been friends with him, or had not been helped out of sticky situations by him so many times, Darry would have probably called him a soc like half the kids in his neighborhood did already. Mitchell had gotten into many fights with kids from Darry's neighborhood, not that he knew it, that was how his nose had been broken the first time. Not even the group knew the exact specifics of where Darry lived, just the East side of town in a rough neighborhood, and there were plenty of them.

"People don't always have to see something to believe it Mitch. Besides I think we have got them all convinced by now," he said dismissively.

Most people believed that Darry only walked East to pick up his brothers from school as his lawyer parents were always to busy too. But Mitch still made him at least twice a week, walk back round to the middle school gates, turn right and then walk West for a bit until near enough everyone had turned off. Then, and only then he could turn off himself and head East. It had so far worked brilliantly, especially when a random person from his grade saw him and decided to walk up with him for a bit. But Darry could not deny that it got on his nerves and Soda and Pony were never to pleased about it either. To be honest most of the time Darry didn't even bother, if Mitchell was off on that day or had detention or was otherwise engaged, Darry usually went East to pick up his brothers and just kept on walking that way. Hardly anyone from Middle School walked East and the only ones who did where from his neighborhood or around that area.

"Perhaps. But the more often people see you walking up that way, the better it will look for all of us, especially you," said Mitchell sternly. Darry grew a little annoyed, he did not understand why people had to be divided because of which side of town they lived on. Greaser was used to class all the boys on the East side, while the term Soc was used to class all of the boys on the West side. Soc's, the West-side-rich-kids, people like Mitchell got all of the brakes. With their rich parents, fancy houses and when they were old enough, their tuff cars. They wore Madras shirts and listened to The Beatles, they thought Elvis was out. While Greasers, people that lived around by Darry and maybe even himself, got nothing. Most of them came from broken homes, they acted out and blew up, whenever things got too much for them because they couldn't do anything else, earning them the stereotype of hoods or juvenile delinquents. They wore their hair long and styled with generous amounts of hair grease, thus earning them the name Greasers.

There was a very fine line and a shade of decency that separated Greasers and Hoods. It was dangerous to be a Greaser even more so than a Soc. Soc's liked to jump Greasers for fun, now every Greaser carried with him a blade and even sometimes a heater, to protect them selves with, in case it was ever them that got jumped. Greasers though were by no means push overs, they were tough. They could take almost anything. It took a lot to break a Greaser. They always beat the Soc's in a fair fight. But no matter how many times they whipped the Soc's they always to still ended up at the bottom. Greasers thought that Elvis was tuff and that The Beatles were rank.

Darry did not think himself a Greaser even though he came from the same deprived area. But then, neither did he think himself a Soc although sometimes he was pretty sure he acted like one, Soc's always hid behind a wall of indifference, careful not to let there real selves show through, wasn't that exactly what Darry did at school? He was pretty sure though that both sides thought of him as their own kind.

"I'm not ashamed of where I live Mitch," said Darry forcefully. Craig, Chris and Andrew all looked on anxiously. Darry and Mitch never fought, that was the be all and end all. They never argued, they never got annoyed with each other, they had never even raised their voices to each others before this day. Deep down everybody knew that if ever Darry and Mitch did fight then it would be on a grand and devastating scale.

"No?" Mitchell blew smoke from his mouth, his voice was low and dangerous, "What do you think would happen if all those people over there," Mitchell pointed to the main yard where most of the school were gathered, "Knew how unashamed of where you lived you are." Darry knew what would happen, he could wave goodbye to everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Everyone looked down on the kids from his neighborhood, the Greasers, no-on would speak to them unless it was to hurl insults at them. Those kids had it rough, they stayed together in their tight knit groups never straying to far alone, be it for safety or just for conformity. Darry knew a fair few of them from when he was younger and he was pretty sure that some of them still remembered him too. They had used to play together, things had been different back then. He knew that anyone of them could have ratted him out at anytime and all the lies he had told to better himself could be shattered in an instant, but they never had. Darry made a mental note to find out exactly why one day.

"I know what would happen," said Darry coldly.

"Then I hope that you realize that what I am doing is for your own good. I am only trying to protect you," said Mitchell, his voice was stern but yet pleading, as if begging Darry to listen and see things his way. The right way in his opinion. Almost like a father to his repetitively disobedient young son.

"Your one of us Darrel Curtis, just not by class. We know that and we can overlook it, but the rest of them don't, they would never be able so see past the fact that your from the East side. They just don't see things the way we do. Thats what I am trying to protect you from. From them."

"I know all that Mitch," said Darry, but still something didn't seem right, he shouldn't have to live a lie just because he was from the East side of town. He shouldn't have to be labeled. But that was the way things were and just because he thought that things shouldn't happen, wouldn't change the fact that they did.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I guess I am just so sick off all these lies all the time. I know there for my own good but I just don't understand why Greasers and Soc's have to be against each other all the time. They're born on different sides of town but does that really make them so different form each other? It just kind of wears you down."

"Course it does," said Mitchell, fully over Darry snapping at him now. Darry was unsure of what Mitchell was agreeing too. Was he agreeing that the the Soc's and the Greasers being born on different sides of town made them so vastly different. Or was he agreeing that constant lies wore a person down. Darry couldn't be certain and did not want to pursue the matter. He felt that he had already pushed Mitchell's patience and temper far enough today.

"But take a look around you. Imagine this stadium full of people, all shouting your name, all willing you to score a spectacular goal. Now you can't tell me that that isn't worth all the lies." Darry smiled, for a moment there he was sure he saw a flicker of the old Mitchell. But then it was gone.

"No I can't."

"Thats the spirit," said Mitchell with a bracing smile, ruffling Darry's hair.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch.

"What have we got?" asked Mitchell dropping the cigarette butt and stumping it out under his foot.

"Physics. Then Art," said Craig gathering up his backpack and rubbish.

"Swerve that," grumbled Mitchell, looking around, "I think I am going to cut out, see you guys later." He gave Darry a playful slap on the back before walking off. Craig and Andrew gave muttered goodbye's.

"Flunk-out, you've only just got here," Chris bellowed after him smiling. He always liked to get the last word in with Mitchell, it gave him a warm feeling to beat the young rogue at something. Without turning round Mitchell stuck two fingers up at Chris who just laughed. They watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Do you think he will get caught?" asked Craig. He may not have liked Mitchell that much but he would not have wished trouble upon him. Mitchell was quite capable of doing that himself.

"Does he ever," laughed Andrew.

"Don't worry," Darry reassured Craig, "He wont get caught, he's too good."

"Yeah," sighed Andrew almost enviously.

"Okay Andy, enough drooling, your leaving a nasty mess on the floor," teased Chris, using the nickname that Andrew hated and pouncing on his back.

"Don't call me Andy," shouted Andrew throwing Chris off his back. Chris landed in a heap on the floor, he sat glaring up at Andrew who was almost doubled over with laughter.

"Oh yeah?" Chris took his chance while Andrew was distracted to tackle him to the floor. Andrews laughter turned into an uumph of shock as he tumbled to the ground.

"No one puts Christopher Taylor on the floor and gets away with it," he announced proudly before running off. Andrew lay dazed on the floor for a couple of seconds but as soon as he recovered he took of after Christopher.

"Kids," laughed Darry shaking his head at Craig who was laughing too. The two trailed behind watching their friends antics up ahead. They found a bin and dumped all of their rubbish, before heading off to class.

Physics was a fairly easy lesson, it consisted mainly of practicals and observations, which anyone could do. Andrew was failing the least in this subject, any blunders that he did happen to make, were quickly covered up by his friends and laughed off. Darry held him in high admiration, no matter how bad things got Andrew always seemed to bounce back. A quality he had told them that his mother had possessed.

Darry, Craig and Andrew occupied one table, they had had numerous offers to join other tables but they had all politely refused. Each thought it was nice sometimes to just have the company of close friends and no one else. Chris of course was absent from the group, they had expected no less from him while the head cheerleader, Rebbecca, was in the same room. The three boys discreetly watched the two huddled in the corner. Darry noticed that each kept glancing down and he had the sneaking suspicion that the two were holding hands underneath the table. Darry thought it was kind of weird to see one's friend fraternizing with a girl but he guessed he would be the same before long. He just didn't digg girls that much right now. Sure he talked to them, especially the ones that hung around the soccer pitch, they like him shared a passion for the sport and he could relate to them. They also didn't giggle at everything he said, god how girls made a guy feel uncomfortable. To be quite honest, he just didn't understand girls. He thought the only normal girls in the school were the ones from the soccer pitch. He wasn't sure how much longer that would last though.

Andrew very rarely talked too girl, he was always fearful that he would do something stupid, it was laughed off within the group but he was unsure of how he would react in front of everyone else. Craig was exceptionally clever and tended to over complicate everything, not believing that something was as simple as it appeared. If ever he fell for a girl it would have to be one that could give him a run for his money. And Mitchell, well he was just mean to everyone regardless of weather the liked him or not.

A right group we are thought Darry, the most popular guys we may be, but we are still just basically a bunch of people just trying to fit in, like everybody else. We just help the school bring home the league trophy every year. Boy popularity was a fickle affair.

Darry watched as Chris wound one of Rebecca's tight, corkscrew, brunet curls delicately around his finger. Wow, this was getting uncomfortable. It felt very invasive to be watching but yet at the same time it was rather captivating.

As soon as the bell rang Darry, Craig and Andrew quickly made their way to art, giving Chris and Rebbecca a bit of much needed privacy.

Chris arrived five minutes later, his cheeks had a distinctly flushed hue to them. Darry hid his snicker, Chris was rather flustered, he tripped over Craig's bag on the way to his seat. Darry had a very good idea as to why Chris was so flustered but he decided to not pursue it. Andrew however could not resist a little dig at his friend.

"Hey Chris, is that a little bit of lip-gloss I see on your cheek?" Teased Andrew getting Chris back for all the times he had gotten a dig in at him.

"Get lost," Chris mumbled not meeting Andrew's eyes, but rubbing his cheek anyway and also his lips.

"Oh there as well eh?" said Andrew joyfully, raising his eyebrows to Darry and Craig. Chris' only response was a pencil being bounced off Andrews head. Darry could not contain his laughter any longer. Chris scowled and threw another pencil at Darry, who easily dodged it. Things carried on in much the same fashion until the art teacher entered the the class and told them to stop messing about.

Everyone was rather thankful when the end of the day came, Wednesday's lessons sucked and seemed to drag on forever. But on a positive note it was the middle of the week.

Darry walked out of the school gates with Andrew, Chris had gone off to meet Rebbecca and Craig had gone to his second home, the library. Instead of turning left to pick his brothers up and then eventually walking East, he turned right and walked West. Andrew walked at his side.

"I'll walk up to the 'Old Park' with you and then I'll turn off and head home. I don't like the idea of you walking all the way up there by yourself," he said.

"Andrew you don't have to do that, I have walked up here hundreds of times before. I wont get lost you know," Darry reassured him.

"I know you wont get lost but you were always either with your brothers or Mitch when you walked up here before. I don't know, I just don't want you to walk their on your own." Each of his four friends had seen his brothers from one time to another.

"Thanks," said Darry gratefully. Andrew nodded.

They began walking down the road. They only got about half way when,

"Andrew!" Someone shouted from behind, both Andrew and Darry turned around to see who it was. A girl with long reddish brown hair was running towards them. Darry walked off a little to allow the two to talk.

He watched as Andrew and the girl talked, they seemed comfortable in each others company and looked like friends. The conversation was short and the girl gave Andrew a hug before walking off back down the road.

"Sorry," said Andrew uncomfortably as soon as he fell into line walking beside Darry again.

"It's okay," replied Darry sincerely, "Who was that anyway?"

"Clarissa, she's in my Spanish class. We talk sometimes and stuff."

"Oh very nice." Andrew gave a small smile but Darry knew that it was false. He could tell that Andrew was uncomfortable with the whole situation and so decided not to press him over the matter.

"Who's picking your brothers up while you go and play soccer? Your parents?"

"Nah, my parents are at work. My friend is and taking them back to my house. He'll sit with them until my parents get back."

"Are you sure thats wise?" asked Andrew uncertainly, "Don't you live in a rough neighborhood?" he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper when he said the last two words, "Are you sure that you can trust him? What if something happens?" Darry almost laughed, it was quite funny to see Andrew so concerned over his brothers welfare.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to them. I know I can trust him, I have been friends with him for the past two years. Hell he spends so much time round our house that he's almost like my brother. He can handle himself just fine and my brothers always behave for him. He acts their ages most of the time anyway so they get on fine. He'll make sure nothing happens to them."

"Sounds like you and him are pretty close friends. How old is he?"

"We are," smiled Darry, "He's ten." Andrew looked at Darry slightly aghast.

"Your parents are okay with your ten year old friends picking up your brothers from school and sitting in their house while you go and play soccer? Wow my dad would kill me if I ever did that."

"Well they don't know about it yet, but yeah, sure they'll be okay with it." Said Darry off handedly, Andrew's mouth fell open in awed shock.

"Everyone kind of grows up quick in our neighborhood," continued Darry, "You gotta learn to defend yourself young, especially with all the Soc's jumping us all of the time. Were all Greasers see, a lot of the kids by mine carry blades and sometimes even heaters in case it is ever them that gets jumped. Some of them are hoods. Thats just the way things are around by ours. Everyone sticks together though no matter what, were tight." Andrew looked slightly confused and overwhelmed by all of the information that had just been presented to him.

"I've never heard you talk that way before," he said finally.

"No," sighed Darry, "I don't suppose you have, I don't really talk about my neighborhood and home. I spend so much time trying to ignore the fact that I live there that it's kind of hard to open up to people. But you found the confidence to confide something in me not long ago, if you can do it to me than I should be able to return the favor."

"You didn't have to do that you know," said Andrew gravely, not wanting to have pushed Darry into anything that he didn't want to do.

"I know that I didn't but lately thing have been so mixed up. Look at me, I have everything a Middle school kid could ever wish for but still I am not happy. You too, sure we have our problems but look how many people would kill to be us. One thing is certain where I come from and that is that kids like me don't get lucky breaks. It just doesn't happen, but yet here I am. If anything, all of you and especially Mitch should hate me. But you don't, you help me out, hell you even lie for me. Why do you do it?" Andrew was silent for a minute mulling things over in his mind.

"Because your one of us," he finally replied.

"But I'm not," laughed Darry a little hysterically. Why did everyone think he was either one of them or like the group. He lived on the East side they could never be alike, thats how things worked and had done so for many years previous, he did not see any reason why things would change now. No-one truly knew how the Greasers versus Soc's class rivalry had started and no-one questioned it, so it just continued in one vicious circle with out either side winning. He felt sure that even if he had lived on the same side of his friends, that still he would never have been truly like them, there was always something holding him back.

"and neither am I like any of the kids by mine. So who really am I?" asked Darry desperately. Andrew was slightly taken aback by Darry's words and his tone of desperation.

"I don't know," he replied nervously, "Your you, yanno?" he paused his brow was furrowed as if he were wrestling with something thought in his head.

"I'm no good at this!" he burst out suddenly, "football, thats me. I'm too dumb to understand anything else. I want to say something to you that will solve everything for you, I really do. But I just don't know anything. I'm sorry Darry but I can't," he turned away from Darry,

"I just can't." Frustrated he kicked a near by pop bottle. It easily sored over the fence of a nearby garden where it smashed. He then walked off.

Darry suddenly realized how selfish he had been, his friends has his own problems, he didn't need to add Darry's worries to them. He didn't know what he had expected to gain from sharing some of his troubles with Andrew, Craig was the deep and understanding one, he had just needed to vent. Andrew had wanted to solve everything for him like any good friend would and when he wasn't able to he had gotten annoyed with himself. Darry quickly ran up to him.

"I'm so sorry Andrew," he said sincerely, laying a hand on his friends shoulder

"It's okay," said Andrew miserably, "I'm sorry too, if you want to talk to someone about it who will understand you, you should go and see Craig. He can help you."

"Andrew..." Darry began gravely, he hated the fact that his friend was beating himself up over something he had caused.

"It doesn't matter," he told Darry firmly, "We best get going or everyone will have gone by the time we get there." Andrew began walking off again, signaling that that was the end of the conversation and that he didn't want to talk about it. Darry slowly followed.

The two walked in silence for a long time, neither knowing what to say to each other. Andrew looked throughly miserable and Darry felt incredibly guilty. He had the feeling that Andrew was more upset about not being able to think of anything to say to reassure him than anything else. Darry decided that he just should of kept his mouth shut and that he would do so in future circumstances.

The 'Old Park' came into sight, there were already about sixteen people there. Just enough to make up two half teams.

"Do you want to come and play? I'm sure Paul wouldn't mind," asked Darry in an attempt to cheer Andrew up. This move however had quite the opposite effect.

"I can't," he answered sullenly, " I have to go to a private tutor because I am too dumb to pass normal school. My dad is paying for them so I can't not go. It wouldn't be fair on him."

Andrew only lived with his father, his mother had died a few hours after he was born. Andrew sometimes blamed himself for it. His father was very supportive though, he was never disappointed in his son. Ha always told Andrew that it was wonderful to have a talent, but it was even better to have a talent and an education.

"Your not dumb Andrew," Darry told him firmly.

"Look I know I'm dumb, hell I'm flunking every class, even the ones I am trying in. My only hope is the game and if I lose that I haven't got anything. I've got one thing going for me and I am going to work damn hard to make sure I succeed at it. I want to show my dad that I can make something of myself."

"And you will, your going to be the best footballer this town has ever seen," said Darry bracingly.

"Thanks," he smiled, "I'm really sorry about before Darry."

"Me too," agreed Darry.

"You alright walking over from here?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow and thanks."

"Welcome. See you." Darry watched as Andrew walked back down the lane and turned left, until he was out of sight. He knew his friend would be fine again by tomorrow but he hated to see any of his friends down and it was even worse when he knew he was responsible for it. Finally he began walking over the field towards where the group of people were, hoping to find Paul there

Paul was there waiting for Darry, he waved him over. He called to the group of boys that had all come. At once they all turned to look at Paul. Paul, who was slightly smaller than Darry reached up to put an elbow on Darry's shoulder before speaking;

"Listen up all of you, this here is Darrel Curtis, he's captain of Tulsa Community Middle Schools football team, my captain. He's a cracking good player, and he isn't bad at soccer either. So I want you all to make him feel welcome, because if not then you will have me to deal with." Darry noticed that Paul mainly addressed those that had came clad in matching blue shirts.

"Okay I'm sure you all know the drill by now, or I at least hope you do we have done this enough times. Split off into your teams." Paul's command was immediately followed as fifteen of the boys split into two teams. One team of eight and one team of five. The sixteenth member was acting as the referee.

"You'll be playing with me and my team," Paul informed Darry, "Don't worry though everyone's fine, well there are one or two sore losers but they're on the other team."

Darry and Paul went off to join the team of five bringing the numbers up to a much more equal seven versus eight.

Paul introduced Darry to his team;

"These five layabouts are: Micheal, David, John, James and Robert," he pointed to each in turn, they all inclined their heads to Darry as their way of greeting.

"Great bunch of guys and pretty good players too. We always play together." The five boys nodded their agreement.

"Yeah and those great buffoons over there," said Robert waving his hand towards the opposition, "think that because they have got one more player than us that they are going to win." Darry glanced over to the other team, who were the ones wearing the blue tops, they did indeed look rather cocky.

"Never seems to work out that way though, do it?" laughed David.

"Nah, they might have an extra player but we have the better skill," said Paul confidently.

"You ready yet?" asked the gruff opposing team captain.

"Sure thing,"smiled Paul and went to take up his position at the center ring.

"Darry, you join Micheal as striker. Everyone else, normal positions," Paul called to his team.

Darry was used to being the one giving out the orders and he was interested to see how Paul handled the team. He followed Micheal up to the opposite end of the pitch to the goal they were going to be shooting into. Darry looked around at the team; David was in goal for them, James played the midfield, John was left back and Robert was right back, Paul played a center and Captain. Darry took a look at the other team. Their captain had put most of his players on offense, leaving their goal practically wide open. Darry could see already why these guys lost so much.

Paul shook with the other team captain both staring harshly into each others eyes. The guy acting as referee stepped onto the pitch placing the ball in between the two captains, he then retreated back to the sidelines. He blew his whistle and the game began.

Paul immediately took control of the ball, he passed it to Darry, who kicked it to Micheal, who passed it back to Darry again, who booted the ball and scored from 15 meters. Paul's team cheered.

"Paul was right about you," called Micheal to Darry, "You are pretty good."

"Thanks," Darry called back before receiving the ball again.

The game was fast and furious. Paul's teams strategy was unbeatable. Each of his players worked their positions without fault. Darry soon found out that he and Micheal made an unstoppable team, they seemed to both be on the same wavelength and could anticipate what the other was about to do. It was like they had played together all of their lives. Paul couldn't have looked anymore prouder of everyone if he tried.

But while Paul's team were wallowing in their success, the other team were trying more and more reckless moves to try and score a goal, without much avail. Things got dirty when one of the opposing team players went in for a rough tackle when Robert received the ball. The two fell roughly to the ground the opposing players studs sinking deep into Robert's leg. Paul almost blew his top when his player and friend was injured. Darry could feel his own blood boiling slightly, in a real match of soccer that player would have been sent off with a red card. There had been no need for such a dirty tackle. The acting referee called a time out. Robert was helped off the pitch by Paul and John. He had four deep welts in his leg where the studs had penetrated his skin. He insisted that he was fine, but it was obvious that he was in no fit state to play. Paul told him so. Robert was forced to sit the last half out.

With an already short team and now one player down, it was safe to say that Paul's team was at a disadvantage. Darry felt quietly confident though, even with the right side of the goal now left open and vulnerable, he was pretty sure that he and Micheal could sore far more goals than the other team could only dream of. He also had a strong faith and confidence in Paul's Captaincy.

When the end whistle was blown the results stood at three matches too none to Paul's team and thirty-three goals to six. The captains shook hands for the last time to show that there were no hard feelings, before everyone went off to get a drink and rest. Darry however had not brought a drink, only enough money to get him and Two-Bit a milkshake later on. Micheal was the first to notice this, he offered Darry the last half of the bottle of water that he had. Darry accepted it gratefully, thanking Micheal.

"You did good today," said Micheal, " we should play together more often, we make a pretty good team."

"I agree," said Darry, " you didn't do so bad yourself." Micheal returned the smile.

"Are you kidding me?" exclaimed Paul bounding over to them, "you were both brilliant, even with a player down we still whipped them. We have never won by that much before. I really can't thank you two enough," rambled Paul.

"Don't mention it," said Darry, "I enjoyed playing, your a brilliant captain Paul." he said genuinely.

"Thank you," Paul smiled. The three talked for a while discussing the finer points of the game.

James came over to the group looking a little confused.

"Darrel there's some kid with a Mickey Mouse top on asking for you," he said, "Do you know him? Or do you want me to send him away?"

"No it's okay," said Darry quickly, "I know him, I told him to meet me here."

"Oh okay, he's down by there by the goal," said James, pointing to the opposite end of the pitch before walking off again.

"I have to go now," said Darry turning to Paul and Micheal.

"Hey is that the kid who was with you this morning?" Darry nodded, "Tell him I said hi," said Paul.

"Will do. Thanks for inviting me along, I had a great time."

"Your welcome," said Paul, "we'll have to do it again sometime."

"We will. See you both later." Darry called over his shoulder as he began to walk off. He received two 'see yous' in reply. He ran the length of the pitch, shouting his goodbyes to John, James, David and Robert as he went past.

He ran right up behind Two-Bit without him noticing, he would have pounced on him if he had not looked as nervous as he did. Darry guessed that he was a little uncomfortable being this far West so instead he just said; "Hi"

"S'upp," replied Two-Bit visibly relaxing a little, "You ready to go?"

"Indeed I am, there's a chocolate milkshake with my name on it waiting for me at the Dairy Queen." The two boys set off down the road.

"How's Soda and Pony? They ain't been giving you any trouble have they?" asked Darry, quickly reverting back to the neighborhood slang in Two-Bit's company. Boy it was nice to not have to think everything through before saying it in case he used any slang by accident.

"Nah man they were both fine, been as good as gold."

"Good," said Darry wondering how Two-Bit got his brothers to be good for him, but yet when Darry minded them they played up.

"What did my parents say?"

"Take a jacket," replied Two-Bit his face completely straight. Darry nodded before taking in fully what Two-Bit had said.

"What?" he laughed turning towards Two-Bit, who sighed dramatically like the misunderstood genius he was.

"I told them that I had picked up Pony and Soda while you went to play soccer and that I was going to meet you at half four, so they told me to take a jacket."

"Oohh," said Darry understanding now. For the first time since he had met up with Two-Bit he noticed that he was wearing one of his smaller jackets, which still looked slightly too big on Two-Bit.

They entered the Dairy Queen each ordering their favorite flavor of milkshake. Darry paid the cashier and took the two milkshakes. Chocolate for himself and Banana for Two-Bit.

For a while they walked in silence, each enjoying their shakes. Finally Darry decided on something. Two-Bit saw things straight, so maybe he could make sense of the mess that was swirling around in Darrys head.

"Who am I really Two-Bit?" he asked gravely. As soon as he saw Two-Bit cock an eyebrow and a smile playing upon his lips he knew that his friend hadn't taken the question in the serious context it was presented in.

"What? You don't know? God help you if you ever get drunk." Two-Bit laughed, if he had not been so worried as to how to get Two-Bit to take him seriously Darry would have laughed too. That was Two-Bit, couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life. But there was another side to him, a serious and perceptive one and that was what Darry was trying to appeal too.

They walked in silence for a little bit again. Darry was building up his courage. He needed some advice on what he should do. It was now or never he thought.

"Two-Bit," he began hesitantly, "What would you do if you felt like you were two different people and both of you were being pulled in opposite directions and you didn't know which one was really you but you wanted to be true to yourself?. Also if you had the opportunity to be either a Soc or a Greaser what would you choose? But it was only a once in a lifetime choice and once you had made that choice you could never go back on it." Darry rushed out. Two-Bit looked at his friend sensing that Darry wanted his advice. He forced himself into a serious frame of mind.

"Erm, well. To answer your first question, I would decide which person that I liked best or felt most comfortable with being and if I felt that I was not being true to myself being either person and I wanted to be, then I would start over again and be a completely new person. One that I liked and thought was most true to what I wanted to be. To answer your second question I would choose to be a Greaser, all the way and I wouldn't regret my choice either." His brow furrowed in a slightly confused way, was that how Darry was feeling?

"Why?" asked Darry hesitantly

"Because. It links back to the first thing you asked me, that is who I am most comfortable being. The person I feel who me being is the most true to myself. I am proud to be a Greaser, I might not grease my hair back yet or wear leather jackets but thats me and it always will be me. I would never be a Soc," explained Two-Bit. His expression was torn between concern and wonderment.

"Why are you asking me this?" he asked his friend slowly.

"Because I needed some advice on what to do, and now it looks like I have a lot of thinking to do and some important decisions to make. Ones that could affect the rest of my life."

---

Okay so this chapter was A LOT longer than I expected it to be and I know there are a bunch of characters in this chapter that aren't in the book but they wont be in it all the way through.

Any questions related to the story?

Like it? Hate it?

What did you think?

I would just like to say that I know nothing about soccer/football, sorry if that bit sucked. Sorry if you thought the whole story sucked.

Any constructive criticism is welcomed.