Chapter 2: The Story Begins.
"Kitty, I'm home!" Ponyboy yells upon entering the house. I spent my day vacuuming the floors, dusting, and cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, and all the bedrooms. I figured if I was going to stay home, I might as well help out.
"I'm in my room!" I call out to him. I had finally gotten around to getting dressed. I had put on my white pedal-pusher pants, and my lilac cotton button-up shirt.
"Hey, Kitty." Ponyboy says, entering my room. I had been standing in front of my mirror, debating on cutting my hair.
"Hey, Pony." I say, flopping down on my bed. He walks over to my desk, and places some books and papers on it.
"I brought your homework for you." he says, turning to leave. He's at the door, when he turns to me. "You wanna go see the new Paul Newman movie with me." He asks.
Glancing at my mountain of homework, I shake my head. "Sorry Pony, but I have to do this homework. Maybe next time." He smiles.
"It's okay Kitty. I'll go by myself." He says, leaving my room.
"Be safe, and watch out for Socs!" I yell after him. Socs, or Socials, are the higher-ups in society. My family and friends are referred to as Greasers, supposedly because of the amount of hair oil we use in our hair.
Socs are the social elite. They drive mustangs, wear madras shirts, and altogether have better home lives. Most Greasers are also dubbed the title of hood. They steal things, hold up gas stations, fight in gang fights- Not that my brothers and I do those kinds of things. We try and stay out of trouble.
I'm halfway through my last page of math homework when Darry and Sodapop get home. Soda barely mumbles a hello before making a beeline for the shower. The weather was in the nineties today, so I don't blame him.
"Kitty, where's Ponyboy?" Darry asks, leaning against my doorframe.
"He went to the movies." I say, closing my math textbook.
"Without nobody else?"
"Yeah. He asked me, but I had homework." I mumble, opening my english textbook.
"He never uses his head." Darry mutters, walking down the hallway. He's probably gonna go start dinner.
"Oh Kitty!" Sodapop yells, bounding into my room as I finish my homework.
"Yes, Soda?" I say, standing up to streatch.
"Come outside with me, I wanna talk to ya!" He says, dragging me out of my room.
"Why do we gotta go outside?" I ask Soda as he drags me out onto the front porch. I'm lucky I was at least able to put shoes on before he did.
"It's a gorgeous day." He says, pulling out a cigarette. Everybody is our friend group smokes, except Darry. Pony is the worst of all, smoking entire packs in one day.
I take out another cigarette and light it up. Although I don't smoke often, sometimes it's nice to let off some steam. "And?"
"And I know you've been in the house all day." He replies. I nudge him, and we laugh. Anybody can tell that Soda and I are twins. Are eyes are the same shade of dark brown, and our hair has the same golden-blonde tones. Our only major physical difference is while Sodapop stands at 5ft 11in, I'm only 5ft. And you know, the fact he's a boy.
All of a sudden, we hear shouts for Darry and Soda, followed by disgruntled shouts. Darry rushes out.
"That sounded like Ponyboy!" He yells, taking off down the street. Two-Bit and Steve Randle, another member of our gang, and Sodapop's best friend, are just approaching our house as he does.
I quickly ash my cigarette, and take off after him. Soda, and the other two, are right behind me.
A few blocks down, a group of Socs are on top of someone on the ground. It only takes me a second to realize the person they're smothering is Ponyboy. When the Socs see the gang, they spring up and make a run for it. I run right over to him as the boys chase after the Socs.
"Pony." I say, dropping to my knees. He's got a good sized bruise on his cheek, and who knows what other injuries. .
"Kitty" he whimpers as I pull him into my arms. He may try and act tough, but he's still my baby brother.
Darry runs over, concern in his eyes. He squats down next to us, and pulls Ponyboy to his feet, slightly shaking him.
"Are you alright, Ponyboy?" says Darry as he continues to shake him.
"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay." Ponyboy mutters. Darry lets go of him, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"I'm sorry."
I don't think Ponyboy realizes how much Darry cares about him. He always complains about it to Sodapop and me.
Darry is 6ft 2in, and looks exactly like dad did before he died. His hair is a dark brown, and cowlicks at the ends, and his eyes are a pale blue-green. I love him to death, and wish he didn't have to work so hard at twenty."
"They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?" Darry asks Pony.
Ponyboy is shaking, and I can tell all he wants to do is curl up into a ball and cry. But all he does is sit down once more, and rub is bruising cheek.
"I'm okay." Ponyboy replies. I then see Sodapop come running back. He and the gang had pushed the Socs pretty far back until they drove off. Once he gets to us he plops down next to Pony and me, and starts to examine his head.
"You got a little cut up, huh, Ponyboy." I give Pony a once over. On the right side of his head he's got a decent size cut.
Ponyboy stares blankly at Soda. "I do?"
Sodapop pulls out a handkerchief, wets the end with his tongue, and presses it to his head. Soda always baby's him.
"You're bleeding like a stuck pig!" I say turning his head.
"I am?" He questions once more.
Sodapop shoes hima the blood. "Look!"
"Did they pull a blade on you?" I ask him. Ponyboy starts to tear up a little as he remembers.
"Yeah."
Sodapop looks at Ponyboy a little closer, and Pony starts crying harder, shaking a whole lot. Soda places a hand on Pony's shoulder, and says, "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."
"I know." Pony says as he wipes harshly at his face. He hates crying in front of people. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all." He draws back a shaky breath, and stops crying altogether. Yep. He's trying to be tough.
Soda grin and rubs Pony's hair. "You're an okay kid, Pony!"
Ponyboy finally grins, a sign that he's doing better. "You're crazy Soda, out of your mind."
Darry rolls his eyes, and gives the boys a look. "You're both nuts."
Soda just cocks an eyebrow, a trick he must have picked up from Two-Bit, and says, "It seems to run in the family."
That's when I smack him. "Sodapop, the boys in this family may be crazy, but I for one thing am not!" I huff, rolling my eyes. Darry cracks a grin. He's usually amused by Soda and mine's bickering.
The rest of the gang comes running back. Four lean, hard guys that have been friends with my family since we were kids. All of them consider me their sister, and the older ones like to mess around with me. They're tough as nails, and look it too.
Steve Randle, Soda's best buddy, is seventeen years old. He likes to style his hair in complicated swirls. He's tacky, and smart. His specialty is cars. He knows cars inside out and backwards, and can drive anything with wheels. He works at the same DX Sodapop does, but only half time. And he gets great enjoyment out of teasing me, and pushing my buttons.
Dallas Winston has to be the truest character of the group, and probably the only real hood of us all. He has an elvish face, with high cheekbones, and white-blonde hair. His eyes are an icy blue, and are cold with the hatred of the world. Dally spent three years in New York, and had been arrested at the ripe age of ten. He was tougher than the other boys, colder, meaner. He's so wild people confuse them with Tim Shepard's gang.
In New York, Dallas, or Dally, blew off steam by participating in gang fights, but here, organized gangs are super rare. They're usually just bunches of friends who band together, and the warfare is between social classes. A rumble, when it's called, is usually born of a grudge match, and opponents usually bring friends along. But, although there are some organized gangs, there is no gang rivalry. So poor Dally has nothing to hate, only Socs. And you can't really win against Socs, no matter how hard you try, because they've got all the breaks, and beating them up won't change a thing. Maybe that's why he's such a bitter person.
But his reputation! They have a gigantic file on him at the police station. He's been arrested, he gets drunk, he rides in rodeos, he lies, cheats, jumps small kids, he does everything. You didn't have to like him, but you sure as hell have to respect him.
Last is Johnny Cade. If you picture a puppy that's been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers you'll have Johnny. He's younger than I am, but older than Ponyboy. He's definitely the smallest boy of the group. He has big black eyes, and very dark, tanned skin. His hair is jet black, that is heavily greased and combed to the side, but his hair is so long that it falls in shaggy bangs on his forehead. A few months back, some Socs beat him up really bad, and his own father beats him regularly. His mom ignores him, unless she's pissed about something, because then she practically screams at him. He would have run away by now if it wasn't for the gang. If it hadn't been for us, I don't think Johnny would have ever learned what love and affection is.
I watch Ponyboy wipe his eyes hastily. "Did you catch them?" He asks the group.
"Nup, they got away this time, the dirty-" Two-Bit, who had gone after the group as well, goes on to call the Socs every dirty name he could think of.
"The kid okay?" Dally asks
"I'm okay." Pony answers, staring at his feet.
"I didn't know you were out of the cooler, Dal." I say, changing the subject. Ponyboy catches my eye and mouths a thank you.
"Got off early, good behavior." He says, ruffling my hair, something he knows annoys me. As I flatten my hair, he lights a cigarette, and hands it to Johnny. Everyone then sits down to smoke. Smoking always lessens the tension. Slowly, I watch the color return to Ponyboy's face, and the trembling cease to exist. The cigarette has seemed to calm him down.
Two-Bit cocks an eyebrow, and nudges Ponyboy. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid."
Pony touches his cheek gingerly. "Really?"
Two-Bit nods sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."
Tough and tuff are two different complements in our neighborhood. Tough is an equivalent to rough, and tuff means sharp, or cool. A person who won a fight is tough. A mustang is tuff.
Steve flicks his ashes at Ponyboy. "What were you doing, walking home by your lonesome?" Steve picks on Ponyboy more than he picks on me.
"I was coming home from the movies, I didn't think-"
"You don't ever think." Darry says, cutting Pony off. "Not at home, or anywhere where it counts. You must think at school, with all the good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go alone, you should have carried a blade."
Darry's always hard on Ponyboy, harder than he is on me or Soda. It's because Ponyboy is wicked smart, and get's frustrated when Pony doesn't use his smarts. I know Pony feels like he can never please Darry, but it's not true. Darry just wants what's best for him.
I wrap my arm around Pony and ruffle his hair with my other hand. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear?"
Sodapop comes up on the other side of Ponyboy, and glares at Darry. "Kitty's right. It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us. And, if he'd been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons."
Soda and I stick up for Pony when Darry gets a little too hard.
Darry shrugs, knowing he's not gonna win this argument. "When I want my kid brother and sister to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you," he faces Soda. "Kid brother."
Two-Bit swings around and walks backwards in front of us. "Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy." he says. "Any of us will."
"Speakin' of movies," Dally says, flicking away his cigarette butt. "I'm walking over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hint some action?"
Steve shakes his head. "Me and Soda are picking up Evie and Sandy for the game." The then shoots Ponyboy an unwarranted look. Steve and Ponyboy just don't understand each other. I don't know why exactly, but I know it has something to do with Steve feeling threatened.
Darry sighs, like he always does. He never has time to do anything with us anymore. "I'm working tomorrow night."
Dally looks at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you and Pony wanta come?" He looks directly at me. "Kitty, what about you?"
"Me and Johnny'll come!" Ponyboy says, knowing Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced too. "Okay, Darry?"
"Yeah, since it ain't a school night." Darry is pretty lenient on the weekends with Ponyboy. On school nights he hardly lets him out.
"I was planning on getting boozed tomorrow night." Two-Bit says. "If I don't, I'll walk over and find y'all."
"What about you, Kitty?" Dally asks me.
"I'll pass this time, Dal. I've got a ton of homework." I say, ashing my cigarette I was smoking. I glance at Dally's hand, noticing his ring, which he had rolled a drunk senior to get, was back on his finger. "You break up with Sylvia again?"
"Yeah, and this time for good. The little broad was two-timin' me while I was in jail."
There are two kinds of greaser girls. Girls like Sylvia, who wear too much makeup, acted tough, and swore too much. Then you get girls like me, who stay inside avoiding the world, and don't party. And I guess there are girls right in-between, like Sodapop's girlfriend Sandy. Her eyes are china blue, and her hair is a natural blonde, unlike a majority of greaser girls. It's not like she has an amazing homelife or anything, she's still our kind, Greaser. But she's not necessarily a bad person. Sometimes I wish I was like those other girls, Soc girls, girls who wear decent dresses, never pants like I do. Or if one of our kind get's arrested, do their girls bawl their eyes out like Evie did when Steve got hauled in? Or they run away like Sylvia did to Dallas? To tell you the truth, I don't know what I would do
"Rub harder Soda." I hear Darry mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep."
Darry's always pulling muscles at work. He tries to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder at work. So, Sodapop will give him back massages, to help him out.
I lay down on my bed, and stare at the ceiling. I had shut the lights off with the intention of going to sleep, but now I'm wide awake.
"Kitty?" I look up at my door to see Sodapop standing in my doorway.
"Hey, Soda." I say, sitting up. He walks over to my bed, and throws himself down next to me. "Darry's asleep?"
"Mmhmm." He mumbles into my pillows. I lay back down, and he rolls onto his back. He's silent for a moment, until he says, "Sandy's pregnant."
I shoot straight up. "No shit?"
He sighs. "No shit."
I lay back down. "What are you gonna do?" I ask him.
"I dunno, Kitty." He says, getting up and out of the bed. "I'll see you in the morning." He walks to the door. "I love you, sis."
"Love you too." I say, rolling over. It's time to get some sleep.