Rain, rain, go away. Gloomy, grey days.

I sighed.

It was summer, so why was it still raining? How was I going to get to see what my new neighborhood looked like? How was I going to meet any new friends before school started? There was a park across the street, but in this wet drizzle, no one visited it.

I helped Mother unpack. I set up my room. I watched Baby Joey. Days were becoming tedious and boring.

Noticing my blue mood, Mother told me in a conspiratorous whisper that the Indians have a saying that it is good luck to move in the rain. Mother had a cousin who was a preacher in the Baptist Church and would go onto the reservation to work with the Indians. Mother had gone with him to help out sometimes, and she has an interest in their heathen ways. Most of the time such sayings and customs would interest me, but today it was just one more thing to add to the monotony.

Mother frowned, noticing she hadn't made me smile.

"I wish I knew the neighborhood better so you could go to the movies. There's a theatre not too far from here. I know how you hate to be cooped up in the house. I wonder where your brothers are?"

No telling, I thought. They had an annoying habit of disappearing when there was work to be done. I have tried to search them out around the house, even outside, but they disappear during the day, and show up for dinner, only to disappear again. Any questions I would inquire of them of where they go and what they do, especially in the rain, was only met with sly smiles. Obviously I am just a girl who wasn't worth their notice – again. Except when it came to eating for meals. I just wish the rain would let up.

I sat on the window chair and looked out at the damp park, imagining children playing there, imagining myself in the swing, the sun shining, the sky blue, the air warm and dry – as summers should be. My daydreaming made me think of a story, so I went upstairs to my room to lie on my bed and write in my diary. I had been keeping a diary for two years now, mostly just writing my day dreams and stories. My wonderings led to me thinking of what the kids in Oklahoma were like.

When this grew boring, I started writing letters to friends and family back in Texas. I was beginning to miss Waco. The sense of excitement and adventure of moving to a new place was wearing off.

Finally, two days later, the sun came out, and although the grass was still damp, I woke up to the sound of children playing at the park. Yet Mother decided this was the day to wash all the crystal and polish the silver, so I wasn't able to get outside yet. She did let me listen to the radio, though, and I was happy to know that the music was hip enough to be current. I sang along to the Mamas and the Papas, and the Beach Boys. California Dreaming – yeah, someday I would like to go to the beach in California! I wonder if the sun there would bleach my hair out to a lighter blond that it was? I had been to the beach on the Gulf, and that was okay. But California boys are probably dreamy and hip, not like the hicks I have heard Oklahoma boys were.

I was thinking about the conversation I had on the phone with Barbara, my best friend still in Waco. She said she had a cousin who had come here to Tulsa last summer, and so she had some gossip about the boys here. She said there were some nice boys, but there were a lot of riff raff, Okie boys who drank too much, rode horses like real cowboys in rodeos…which we had in Texas, so how was that different? She said the Tulsa boys were like the Houston boys, tougher, meaner, and profane…having no idea how to treat a lady. But these Okie cowboys were also good kissers! If you just ignored the smell of tobacco on their breath. Ick! Barbara's voice in telling me about her cousin's adventures last summer held both disgust and curious anticipation, like the idea of the thrill of kissing a bad boy was appealing to her, but didn't want me to know it. I had no intentions of kissing an Okie cowboy. I would find me a nice boy to be my steady. Someone like a California boy. My Daddy told me to stay away from cowboys, they were bad news for a nice girl.

By the time I finished polishing the last of great-grandmommy's silverware, it was time to set the table for dinner and help with making the meal. Finally, when dinner was eaten and the dishes done, I had some free time to myself. The sun was still up, so I snuck outside to run across to the park before Mother noticed.

The smell of damp grass was still apparent, and the air was as humid has it had been all day. All the kids were gone from the park now, having been called into dinner, I supposed. I ran off across the street at a sprint, running as fast and hard as I could, releasing the pent up energy of being inside for the last four days. There was a little incline of a hill to get to the playground from my side of the house, and when I got to the top, I could see the sun was just beginning to set. In the west were still the remnants of the rain clouds, and hid some of the sunlight, resulting in sun beams filtering through. The presence of God, my daddy used to say. There was a developing rose pink and purple hue beginning to be seen, and I didn't have much time before twilight. I needed to hurry and play a little before Mother noticed I was gone, but glory, it was going to be a pretty sunset! Daddy liked to show me sunsets, and liked to sit with me on the porch during lightening storms. Thinking of Daddy gave me a sharp pain in the chest, and I would have to run it off.

I pounded my legs hard against the ground,and then sprung up to do a hand spring, leading into a cartwheel. Hands up to complete the dismount, I did a half turn and ran again, turning into as many cartwheels as I could until I felt myself curving from a straight line, then turned it into a rolling sommersault. I felt the damp ground under me and down my back, and I would probably be dirty. I didn't care. Gymnastics was one of my few loves in life where I could just forget anything but the feel of my body moving. I needed to feel like flying. I needed the bars.

Panting slightly, I turned to look around for the chinup bars that parks usually had, and then sprinted towards them. I ran, flipped myself up and over, and then spun downwards around my hips. I then flipped my legs through my arms to hook my knees over the bar, and then just holding with minimal pressure, I spun around as fast as I could. When I was sufficiently dizzy enough, I timed the movement of my twirling to fling my body upwards towards the sky, letting loose with my legs, did a complete flip, and landed with a good solid dismount, feet together, back straight, and I shoved my arms straight into the air, catching my breath.

It was at this point I felt someone staring at me, and I turned to my right to see a boy slouching against a tree, smoking a cigarette. My heart stopped in startlement and embarrassment. I did have my shorts on under my skirt, didn't I? Some girls wore petal pushers, but I had only one pair Grandmother bought me, and it was in the wash. I didn't plan on twirling and doing cartwheels, but I always twirled at school, so hopefully I put the shorts on out of habit. I did, didn't I?

And then I realized my wondering if my shorts were on were from Mother's voice of her lectures that a lady must be modest. What did I care if a boy saw my underpants? It would say more that the boy was a creep more than I was immodest. A nice boy wouldn't look.

My embarrassment evaporated, and instead I lifted my head up, and gave the boy watching an indignant glare. A nice boy wouldn't stare!

He just squinted his eyes as the smoke rose up around his head, and cocked his head to the side. I shifted my hips into more classy stance and crossed my arms, daring him to approach me.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, licked his lips, and then crushed out the cigarette under his foot. He didn't move from his spot, and continued to stare. So I stared back. This staring contest went on for several moments, until his lips quirked in a little smile. He then did a back flip, glanced back over at his shoulder at me, then walked away in the opposite direction.

I was left feeling confused. It was like some type of silent conversation had taken place, but as to what had been said between us, I had no idea. Creepy kid.

I suddenly realized that the sky had darkened to a deeper purple and darker rose color. I had to get home.

"Rebecca, go find your brothers," Mother ordered me as soon as I stepped through the door.

"I don't know where they are. Where do you suggest I look?"

"I saw some boys talking on the other side of the park, across the street. A bunch of boys trying to act like a gang of thugs, if you ask me. I am starting to think that's where your brothers have been disappearing to."

"And you want me to go over there…alone?"

"No one would dare hurt a nice girl like you, and you know it. Just run over there, see if they are there, and tell them to come home if you see them. If you don't, just come home. If your brothers give you any grief, let them know they will get whipped for it when their daddy gets home. Got it?"

That was the direction the creepy boy from the park had walked towards. I wasn't keen on the idea of walking that direction to look for my brothers amongst a bunch of kids pretending to be thugs, but at the same time, I would get the chance to see more of the neighborhood. Maybe there would be a nice, good-looking boy around.

As I started back across the street, I became self-conscious about meeting any other boy, realizing that I probably had grass in my hair and dirt down my back. I wish I had thought about changing my clothes before I left. And then I told myself I shouldn't care. I was just looking for my older brothers. I decided to be angry at them for leaving me with all the work of cleaning the house and unpacking. Lazy jerks!

Be angry, I told myself, as my heart began to pound in my chest as I crested the park that separated our side of the street from the other one. The thought I should have changed clothes kept sneaking into my thoughts. I will not be embarrassed, I told myself firmly.

It was hard to keep this resolve up, however, as I crossed the street to where there was a gang of boys standing around, smoking, talking, and laughing. I tried not to gasp in sudden fright. Mother said they looked like thugs…I think they were thugs! The language and laughter was harsh, bitterness and anger touching the edge of their voices. And such language! Grandmother said such language was of the uneducated because they didn't have the vocabulary to think of the proper words, mores the pity. Was it their fault they were poorly educated? It was then I realized something: we lived on the wrong side of the tracks, as grandfather would say! Did Mother and Jack know? Or did the park separate one class of neighborhood from another? Suddenly I was very self-conscious and wished no one would notice me. There were two girls in the group of boys, hanging on a couple of boys, laughing along with whatever the conversation was, using the same type of language. One boy with greasy hair began kissing long and hard. Glory! I thought. Did they even stop to take a breath? Disgusting. Definitely low class. How did I find myself here?

And then there was that creepy boy from the park again! He had another cigarette in his mouth, and he cocked his head to the side when he noticed me. No smile, just the same intense stare as our eyes met. I glared back again. His lips smirked. My heart pounded harder, so I just lifted my chin. I was a high class girl, a proper lady. I belonged anywhere I happened to be – so Grandmother taught me. He seemed to be the only boy who noticed me, even though there were several other kids hanging around. I licked my lips as my mouth had suddenly gone dry. I contemplated running back home. Why wouldn't that kid stop staring at me?!

Then a greasy black hair kid wearing a jean jacket, also smoking – did everyone smoke here? looked up at the creepy kid, and then followed his eyes to see what he was looking at. Which, of course, was me! He had a fresh cut on his cheek, and his expressionless face and empty eyes made me wonder what did these kids do?! I had heard about gangs and gang fights… I forced my expression to smooth out into serene benevolence. They wouldn't dare hurt me, I told myself. Purity protects nice girls, and I was a nice girl. I ignored the curse words being thrown about in the air around me, and wondered where the heck were my brothers?!

Then I heard David's laugh, and saw that across from the creepy two boys smoking was David, doubled up with laughter, spitting out whatever it was he had been drinking.

Impulsively I called out his name. I wanted to tell him to get home, and then I could run back home myself, where it was safe and boring…

"Oh, shit," he grinned, still laughing. "My step-sister's here." He seemed to think that was hilarious, and he fell to the ground still doubled-up with laughter.

"Where?" I heard Harry ask, and his dark blond head peered around a bigger guy wearing a white t-shirt and black leather jacket. Our eyes met, and he echoed David's, "Shit."

"What are you doing here, Becky?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with anger, having obviously and quickly gotten over the shock of me showing up out of the blue.

"Mother said ya'll better get home now," I replied.

He rolled his eyes. The other kids around him mocked him saying, "Mommy wants you home, Harry! Mommy's calling you! Hey, aren't you goin' to introduce us all to your little sister?"

Harry ignored them, while each tease just sent David into roaring gales of laughter. He laughed so hard I could tell he had tears running down his face.

Harry stepped out from the gang of kids.

"Becky, go home," he ordered me, his voice hard, and was meant to broker no argument or defiance on my part. "You don't belong here."

He then shouted, "Shut up!" to the kids behind him as he walked towards me. I didn't move, and waited for him to approach me, ignoring the kids like he was.

"Go home, Becky," he repeated, his voice now softer he was closer to me where the other kids couldn't hear. "You shouldn't have come over here."

"Mother says you are to get home," I reminded him, my voice low. It was a warning, and conveyed to him I had no choice but to obey Mother to come look for him. If he hadn't kept disappearing, I wouldn't have had to come looking for him!

"We'll be home later," he told me.

"Mother says ya'll get whipped if you don't come back with me," I whispered to him.

He rolled his eyes, and then blew out a hard sigh.

From the gang of kids a profane and low class comment was made about me, and I felt my face grow hot, but continued to ignore them. David agreed out loud with the comment, and guffawed at my expense.

Harry's eyes hardened with anger , but to me he said, "Don't listen. I'll deal with it. Now, just go on back home."

"What should I tell Mother?" I asked him, my voice still low, and forced myself to look at Harry's face and not acknowledge the kids his back was towards.

"You don't have to tell her anything. We'll be right behind you. Just start walking, and don't turn around. Okay?"

I nodded, and did what he told me to do, feeling like I had just wandered into another country that was not America, was not the world I had always known, one that my new brothers obviously knew and belonged to, and I began to wonder as I walked, just what was the family background of the man my mother had married and had a child with? Or was this just Tulsa?

I heard David call out, "Oww! Damn, Harry, what the hell was that for?"

"Got you to stop laughing like a maniac, didn't it?" was Harry's reply. I listened to him as best as I could as I walked back towards the park tell his new friends that he had to check in with his family, but they would be back later. Harry's voice held an element of authority in it that I thought that he only used with David. The harsh voices lowered down with a respectful element of understanding, even though the humor that had colored the atmosphere of the conversation previously was still apparent. I kept walking without turning around even as I heard Harry and David starting to walk behind me, Harry being true to his word to me, and David's voice protesting that they were actually going home just because the bitch told them to. I didn't know if David meant me or my mother was the bitch he was referring to. Harry told him to shut the hell up and sober up. David shot back with, "Killjoy!" And I glanced a chance to look back to see Harry smack David in the head.

"You better wise up, kid brother," Harry told him, his voice hard. "And you better pray that Becky don't say nothin' to Anne or Dad, 'cause we'll be both whipped and grounded if she does."

I decided to stop and wait for them, now we were out of sight and earshot of the other kids. Harry's face was expressionless, but David glared at me. Harry noticed David's angry look and smacked him in the back of the head again.

Harry sighed with resignation and then said, "What is it, Becky?"

I waited a moment, thinking, and then said in a soft promise, "I won't tell."

"She's lying!" David blurted out. "She's the type to tell, I can tell!"

"Shut up, David," Harry said mildly. To me, he said, "Thanks."

I nodded, and then put my head down, and started walking back. David didn't trust me. My brothers were bad boys. And I was now living on the wrong side of the tracks. I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with all of these sudden realizations. I was a nice girl, in the wrong neighborhood. I felt lost, and I had to admit to myself, I was also scared.

Harry's voice suddenly stopped me, breaking into my thoughts.

"Why?"

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you decide to promise not to tell?"

"Would it do any good?"

"Huh?"

"It seems like you know what you are doing. I don't get it, but you seem to know what you are doing. If I say anything about it, what good would it do? You'd just get in trouble. You'd hate me. You'd still do what you do. I don't want you to hate me. "

"We don't hate you," Harry's voice seemed to hold wonderment. "You're a pretty cool chick, for being a classy girl. If I have to have a sister, I would rather have a sister like you than one of the greasy girls."

"Greasy girls?" I asked.

"Yeah, greasy girls, which what we would have is if David was my sister from my dad and mom. Instead, Dad married Anne and we got a nice girl like you for a sister, who is a cool cook. Anne shouldn't have sent you across the park to look for us. I hate that you had to hear those things, but it's how greasers talk, you dig?"

"I guess so," I replied, although I didn't understand at all.

"If I was your sister? What the…?" David's voice slurred and his eyes were glassy. "Are you calling me a pussy, Harry?"

Harry ignored his brother's comment, and instead said, "I told you, you better sober up, David. If you can't sober up when you need to, I ain't going to cover for you anymore."

"What exactly is a pussy?"I inquired. "I have heard that expression before, but David wouldn't tell me what it meant."

Harry sighed. "Girl, if I explain these things to you, you damn well better not tell your mom or my dad I have! You dig?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I promise not to say anything. I just want to understand you guys, that's all."

Harry's face was serious, and he seemed to think about things, weighing whatever it was he had to weigh in the situation, and then came to a conclusion about me…which I could tell he wasn't happy about. There was skepticism there, and I could feel he was taking some type of risk by explaining things to me. By now we were at the playground, and as David ran to play on the swings like he was some little kid, David leaned against the monkey bars. He looked at me like he was painting a picture of me in his mind, and I managed to smother the gasp of surprise that came up when he shook out a cigarette and lit it. He breathed in the smoke, and lounged back against the monkey bars as we both ignored the drunken whoops from David playing on the swings.

"Look, kid, you're a nice girl, and nice girls aren't supposed to know these things. Are you sure you want to learn? It will break down your little ivory tower you live in. Ignorance is bliss, and all that."

"What's that supposed to mean, Harry?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at me, waiting for an answer, while he slouched and smoked. I thought about what he was saying.

Slowly I asked, "We live on the wrong side of the tracks now, huh?"

He nodded. "Kid, we always have. All our lives. It's you who has taken a glimpse on the other side of the tracks, and if you step over that line, there ain't no goin' back. And you know, you really shouldn't step over it. You should stay in the house like a good little girl, cook and clean for mama, live in your ivory tower, marry a nice boy, have little nice kids, live in a nice house and all of that. Dad told us to keep you there, or he would kill us. And I should honor Dad's wishes and just not answer you. But, kid, it's your choice now. And you asked."

David seemed to know what was going on, and he rushed over, a bit unsteady in his gait. "Harry…don't…Dad said…"

"Shut up, David," Harry said mildly. And then he smiled, there was something about the smirk that looked wicked and predatory. His eyes gleamed, and I felt he was daring me, testing me somehow.

I replayed the words he had spoken to me in my head. "…Stay in the hose like a good little girl, cook and clean for mama…ivory tower…ignorance is bliss…" his voice had been mild, but I realized now thinking replaying his words in my head that he was actually mocking me. Something jerked inside of my soul, and I felt a spark flare up of an emotion I couldn't name.

"Oh, god," David groaned and turned pale. "Oh, god. Oh, god! Give me a smoke, Harry. Now!"

Harry gave him a cigarette while never taking his eyes off of me. David breathed in long and deep the smoke from his cigarette, and then took my arm, pulling me away from Harry. His breath was coming in shallow gasps.

"Becky, don't…" he began, his voice pleading. "Harry's just messing with you. Just ignore him. I'm sorry I laughed at you. I didn't mean nothin' by it. I was just playin' around, you know? We ain't nice guys, Beck. You don't want to know about us. You don't want to. So just say no, and let's go home, okay?"

"But, David, I do want to know! I want to understand. I love you guys! I want you guys to trust me, to like me…"

"Oh, god! Becky…then trust me, you don't want to know! Please tell Harry no, okay? Trust me, and everything will be okay."

"David, is there something wrong with me being a nice girl?"

"No! Oh, god, no! Don't let him play with your mind, okay? It's cool you're a nice girl. Don't go changin' that."

I put my hand on his shoulder. He really looked like he was upset about this, something was scaring him about it, and I didn't know what it was. David was only half a year older than myself, and because he had been held back in elementary school, we were now in the same grade. Harry was much older. I realized at that moment that David actually cared about me; the rest was all an act. I didn't understand why, but I understand there was a world they lived by with unspoken rules, a hidden world I was blind to, but had seen a glimpse of it when I crossed the park.

"Look, David, I am not going to stop being a nice girl just because you guys are bad kids."

"Greasers," he mumbled to me. "They call us greasers here, not "bad kids." We aren't in grade school, you know."

"Okay, greasers. Is it some type of gang? Are ya'll in a gang?"

"Well…sort of…"

Harry walked over, having finished his cigarette.

"So, did you decide, princess? What'll it be?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Knowledge is power. Only with knowledge can there be freedom of choice. My fate is not decided if I understand what is going on."

Harry laughed. "Touché, little sister. Dad said you were a smart cookie."

"So what do you mean ya'll are greasers, and is it a gang or not?"

"Greasers is not a gang," Harry explained, his tone back to its normal tone, minus the mockery. "It is what people here call guys like us living on the East Side of the tracks. It don't mean nothin' more than that.

"Greasers ain't a gang…but me and David here, are lookin' to get into a local gang. There's this guy we have met you saw over there…Tim Shepard. We were in our gang back in Texas, and he's talking to our leader there and stuff…"

"So all those guys you were hanging out with, and the girls…they're a gang, too?"

"No. Some of them are of Shepard's gang. The rest are just guys who live in this neighborhood. Not everyone is in a gang."

"So why be in a gang?"

"Protection and stuff, you know? We're new kids, and when you're new it's hard to start over establishing a new rep and all. So Shepard just calls the gang back home, they vouch, we prove ourselves, and get in. Dig?"

"Not really," I admitted.

Harry laughed. "Don't worry about it. Just know that once we get accepted and all, you don't have to worry about them talking like they did about you just now. No one will mess with you in this neighborhood. Until then, though, you should stay inside, where it is safe."

"Where it is safe?" I repeated.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. We've got your back, sis; it's our job. We're family now. And we can all start school without any concerns. That's all you need to know. Alright, now let's get on home."

"Don't say nothin'," David said as we started walking towards home. It sounded like he meant it as a threat, but it came out as a plea. "You promised. Dad will kill us."

It was almost full dark when we started crossing the street back to the house. The street lights had come on, and the lights were on in the house. Jack's truck was in the driveway, so he had come home while I was out getting my brothers.

David cursed low and soft.

"Easy, little brother," Harry assured him. "Just be cool and let me talk. And keep your head down, for god's sake. Maybe they won't notice your eyes…"

As we walked up the porch steps to the front door together, I realized my heart was still pounding in my chest. Did it ever stop? I wondered. Since Mother sent me to get Harry and David? Why? Why was I afraid? The new feeling of being in another country continued…and it refused to go away.