Chapter 1
It was a hot summer day and the sun was burning down on Tulsa, Oklahoma. A boy of about seventeen was running through the streets at top speed, a knife clutched in one hand and a bunch of money in the other. Police sirens could be heard not too far behind him as he turned sharply down another road. The people around however, seemed not to notice any of it, this was typical on the North side of town. As he pelted around another corner the police cars came in sight. The boy swore under his breath. Then he saw his ticket out; A hole in a gate to his right. He ran and climbed through the gate before taking off again.
Once on the other side of the gate though, he had stop. He had managed to get himself on the Southside of town. He stuffed the money and knife in his coat pocket and walked down the nice clean sidewalk, trying not to look too suspicious, which was hard to do with his leather jacket, tight jeans, and long hair. He shoved his hands in his pockets and then heard the police sirens again, still close. "Crap!" He thought.
He took off running again, looking for a good place to hide, but there weren't many good hiding places in this neighborhood. With its nice orderly houses, all in a row, perfect trimmed gardens and fancy Corvairs and Corvettes sitting parked in the driveways. His eyes scanned the area carefully. He saw an orange Ford fairlane sitting by the side of road. He decided to take a chance and ran over, opened the passenger side door, and climbed in only to find, much to his dismay, someone sitting in the driver's seat, reading a thick book. The girl in the car snapped her head up as he closed the door. She fixed her dark brown gaze on his face, looking very confused. He expected to hear her shout something along the lines of, "Get out Greaser" or "Ahhh you hood!" but instead she just asked in a slow confused voice, "Can I help you?"
Though he was taken aback for a moment, he regained his composure. "You could drive." He said, still expecting her to explode on him at any moment, but she never did. She just closed her book, threw it in the back seat, and started to drive as if it were normal for strangers to jump in her car and ask for a ride. "So who are you running from?" She asked casually. The boy grinned sheepishly; still convinced she would come to her senses at any moment and kick him out. "The cops" He replied, pushing his very blonde hair back out of his face. The girl turned a sharp curve then looked over to him. "If I'm going to help you hide from the cops, could you at least tell me your name?" She asked. He was once again taken aback. "I'm Dallas, Dallas Winston." He told her.
She smiled. "That's a nice name. I'm Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn Hurt." She replied. Dallas looked out the window quickly before turning back to Kaitlyn. "It's nice to meet you, but why are you being so nice to me?" He asked genuinely confused.
"What reason would I have to not be?" She questioned, looking straight ahead.
"Well it's just that I'm a greaser and you're obviously a Soc-"
"Wait, a what?" She cut in as she took another turn down a different street.
"You don't know what Socs and Greasers are?" He asked, still very confused.
"Can't say I do." She replied. "I just moved here two days ago though." She explained.
"That makes sense then" He stated, more to himself. Kaitlyn was just about to ask him what Greasers and Socs were, but was interrupted by a police siren. She heard Dallas swear from the seat next to her. He looked to her with expectant eyes. "No, I am not going to try and outrun the cops!" She told him firmly.
"Then what do we do?" Dallas demanded as she pulled over. Kaitlyn watched the cop from her rearview mirror. She didn't really know what to do. Her mind was racing. She didn't know this kid, but she still didn't want him to get into trouble. She saw the cop reach in his floor to pick up something he dropped. "Dallas, did the cops see you?" She whispered. He shook his head no. He turned his head to face her and she punched him hard right in the nose. "Ow! What was that for?" He yelled. She turned her face to his, a determined look in her eyes. "Just act really sick." She instructed him.
The policeman walked to her window. "Good evening ma'am. We're looking for a boy who robbed a store not too far from here. Have you seen him? He's got blonde hair….Like that kid's hair!" The cop said, his hands moving for his cuffs.
"Sir no!" She cried. "This is just my friend. He's fallen, and I think he got a concussion. I'm trying to get him to the hospital." As if on cue Dallas turned his head to look at the cop, his nose bleeding from the hit Kaitlyn gave him earlier. "Wow, he doesn't look too good. Well, go on, but don't drive too fast now. "He told her kindly. She nodded yes and smiled at the policeman before driving off. She took a right turn and traveled down a dirt road she had noticed when her family had arrived yesterday.
She drove a little ways down the road and stopped. She turned to him and yelled. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you that hard!" She pulled a green jacket from the back of her car and held it to his bleeding nose. "It's fine, I've had worse." He told her, not lying. He took the jacket from her hands, and their hands brushed for a moment. He noticed her hands were very soft, and she that his were rough. "Thanks." He mumbled. She smiled and began to fidget nervously with her fingers. "So what, exactly, are Socs and Greasers?" She asked curiously.
"Well," He started, but had to pause to think "A Greaser, I guess, is someone with long, greased, and tuff hair, leather jackets, and a bad rep. Like me. We're all dirt poor and most of us are hoods. I'm a Greaser because I'm tough and me and the cops don't always get along."
"But a Soc is a kid with fancy cars and clothes. They're all really fake, and cold, and spoiled brats. They live in these fancy neighborhoods, like this one. So I guess you'll be a Soc." He explained.
Kaitlyn sat still for a moment, looking off in thought. "I am not, nor will I ever be a 'Soc', ok." She replied. "I'm not fancy, or fake, or spoiled. We just happened to find a house in this area that was big enough for my family." She looked over at Dallas now. "I'm no Soc, though I guess I'm not a Greaser either." He smiled at her, genuinely surprised. "Well that's…Nice." He replied. They sat in silence for a few awkward minutes as Dallas waited for his nose to stop bleeding.
"Here." He said after a while, handing her the bloody jacket with a bored look on his face. She took it gingerly, careful not to touch any of the blood that now caked the once-green fabric. . "Thanks." He said. He reached for the handle on the door to leave. "I'll see you around then?" Kaitlyn asked. He smiled for a second and replied, "Not likely," as he climbed out of her car and started to jog off down the road. Kaitlyn through the bloody jacket into the passenger seat and just sat in her car for a moment, replaying the last ten or so minutes. She shook her head and drove back down the road, not seeing Dallas anywhere.
She went home and snuck the jacket into the washer, then went to her room. She picked up her phone and dialed her older sister's number. "Laura." She said when her sister picked up. "I met one of the cutest looking boys today and punched him in the face."