Hey, y'all. I'm back with another chapterized story! *gigglez* Summer Troubles--a truly
awesome story by Baby Bear--is one of my fave stories at fanfiction.net. It's about these
two rival gangs, the leaders of which being Serena and Darien, of course! LoL. Anyway,
I was reading the Outsiders (by S.E. Hinton) and I thought of her story, and I thought, hey,
what about a Sailor Moon version of the Outsiders? It's an awesome story, so...Anyway.
Here we go! Oh, and by the way--Cheebz is mad at me--I took her doll away because she
was bad--so don't be surprised if she seems a little bitchy.
*Walks off. Chibi Angel sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry after her, then says in
a huffy voice,"
The mean so-called Angel doesn't own Sailor Moon or The Outsiders,
You sure as hell can't sue!
For she calls herself an Angel,
And she's so blonde, she wouldn't know what to do!
*Screams as Angel chases her off the stage with a bottle of water, spraying C-A and making
her squeal. Angel shouts back, ENJOY THE STORY!*
The Outsiders
Chapter One
Getting Jumped
~*Darien's POV*~
I stepped outside of the door, blinking from the ultra-bright sunshine after the darkness of
the movie theatre. I had only two things on my mind: Leonardo DiCaprio and a ride home.
I was wishing that I looked like Leonardo--girls dig him and he looks tuff, unlike me. Sure, I
get my share of girls, and I guess my looks aren't so bad. I have coal-black, almost midnight
colored hair and bluish-green eyes. (AN: Work with me.) I wish they were more blue then
green, because I hate almost every guy I know who has green eyes. But I guess I have to be
happy with what I've got, because there's not much I can do to change that short of getting
tinted contacts and plastic surgery--and I can't afford that. My hair is longer than a lot of guys
wear theirs, but I'm a greaser and none of my gang ever bothers to get a hair cut. Besides,
I look funny with short hair. (AN: As if! You, my dear, *never* look funny.)
It was a long way home and I didn't have anyone to walk with, but that's the way it usually is,
if for no reason other than I like to watch movies alone so that I can really connect with the
actors. l'm different that way--my second oldest brother, Andrew, who is sixteen-going-on-
seventeen, never opens anything other than Playboys and car magazines, and my oldest brother,
Seiya, works way too much to have time to relax with a book.
(AN: I just have to cut in here and let everyone know that characteristics are gonna be changed
slightly in this story--like 'blue-green' eyes, when everyone knows that the character really gas
dark bright blue eyes. Aight? Aight. So please don't flame me saying, 'HE HAS BLUE EYES,
YOU HOE!' or 'SEIYA DOESN'T HAVE ICY BLUE-GREEN EYES, YOU DITZ! GET A
CLUE!', otay? Thnx.)
And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do--for awhile, I thought I was the
only one who did. So I'm usually alone.
Andrew tries to understand my interests, which is more than I can say about Seiya. But then
again, Andy is different than anybody; he understands almost everything. He never yells
at me the way Seiya does, or treats me like I'm four instead of fourteen. I love Andy more
than I've ever loved anyone--even Mom and Dad. He's always so cheerful and I've never
seen him unhappy, where as Seiya's hard and firm and rarely smiles at all. I guess I can
understand, because my oldest brother's gone through a lot in his twenty years. Andy
will never grow up at all. I'm not sure what way's better, but I guess I'll find out one of these
days.
So anyway, I was walking home, thinking about the movie I'd just seen--The Beach--and I
suddenly wished I had someone with me. Greasers like me can't walk alone too much or
they'll get jumped, or someone will come by and scream, "GREASE!" At them, which doesn't
make you feel so hot if you know what I mean. We get jumped by Socs. I have no clue how
you spell it, for all of my academic awards and trophies, but it's the shortened version for the
Socials, the jet set, the West-side rich kids.It's like "greaser", which is used to class all of
us half-ass poor boys on the East side.
We're dirt poor, much poorer then the Socs and far beneath even the middle class. As far
as I can tell, we're wilder too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and destroy houses and
throw keg parties for fun, and get articles in the paper about being society's scum one day
and then an asset to the neighborhood the next. Greasers are kind of like hoods; we steal
things, drive old souped-up cars, rob gas stations and even have gang fights once in awhile.
I don't mean that I do shit like that--Seiya would beat the crap out of me if I got in trouble
with the cops. Since Mom and Dad died in the car crash when I was fourteen, the three of
us got to stay together only if we stayed out of trouble. So Andrew and I did the best we
could to avoid it, and when we couldn't, we're careful not to get caught. I just meant that
most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in jeans and
T-shirts, or leave our shirttails out, and leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not
saying that either Socs or greasers are better--although I would much rather be a grease
then one of those snobby little...Never mind--that's just the way things are.
I know I could've waited to go to the movies until Seiya or Andy got off work. They would
have gone with me, or driven me, or at least walked along--although Andy just can't sit still
long enough to enjoy a movie and Seiya says his life is complicated enough without watching
other people's problems, too. If the above had failed, I could've gotten one of the gang to
come with me, one of the four boys Seiya and Andy and I have grown up with and consider
family. We're practically brothers, and when you grow up in a tight neighborhood like ours
you get to know each other real well. If I had though about it, I could have called Seiya and he
would've come by on his way home and picked me up, or Ken (AN: Lita's boyfriend)
Jackson--one of our gang--would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but
sometimes I guess I don't stop to think. It drives Seiya crazy when I do shit like that, 'cause
I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I
don't stop to think. Besides, I like walking.
I decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I saw the red convertible following me. I was
almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking faster. I've never been jumped, but
I saw Greg after four Socs got a hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Greg was scared of
his own shadow after that. He was only sixteen then.
I knew it wasn't gonna help, though--the fast walking, I mean--even before the convertible
pulled up and five Socs got out. I got kind of scared--I'm kind of small for fourteen, even though
I have a good build, and those guys were way bigger than me. I automatically hooked my
thumbs in my jeans' belt loops and slouched, wondering if I'd make it if I made a break for
it. I rembembered Greg--his face all bruised and cut, and how he'd cried when we found him,
half-conscious, in the empty lot on the corner. Greg had it real rough at home, it took a lot to
make him cry.
I was sweating like crazy, although I was freezing. I could feel my palms getting clammy and
the perspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm really scared. I glanced around
for a pop bottle, or a stick, or...or something. (AN: The pop bottles in this story are all made
of glass, not plastic, like those glass coke bottles that were so cool last year.) Yaten Kou,
Andy's best friend, had once held off four guys with a broken pop bottle, but there was nothing.
So I stood there like an idiot while they surrounded me. I don't stop to think. They walked
around me, slowly, silently, smiling.
"Hey, grease," said one in a sticky-sweet voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser.
We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off. He had a silk shirt on. I can still see it.
Blue silk. *Rather extravagent for a jump,* I thought dazedly. One of them laughed, then
swore me out in a low voice. I couldn't think of any comebacks. There just isn't a lot of shit
you can say while waiting to get bashed, so I just kept my big mouth shut for once.
"Need a haircut, greaser?" the average-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket
and flipped the blade open.
I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that terrifying knife.
And of course, I backed right into one of them. Go figure. They had me down in five seconds--
my arms and legs pinned down and one of them sitting on my chest with his knees on my
elbows. If you don't think that hurts, you're out of your mind. I could smell Tommy cologne and
stale weed-smoke, and I wondered, stupidly, if I would suffocate before they did anything to
me. I was so scared out of my mind, I wished I would. I fought to get loose, and almost did
for a few precious seconds. Then they tightened their grasp on me and the one sitting on
my stomach slugged me a few times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A
switchblade was held against my throat.
"How would you like that haircut to begin just below the chin, grease?"
Right then, it occured to me that they could kill me and I totally spazzed out. I started screaming
for Andy, for Seiya, for anyone. Someone put his hand over my mouth, but I bit it as hard as
I could and nearly gagged when I tasted the blood running through my teeth. I heard a
muttered curse and got smacked again, and they were shoving a bunch of Kleenex in my
mouth. One of them kept saying, "Shut him up, for God's sake, shut him up!"
Then there was shouts and pounding footsteps , and the Socs jumped up and left me lying
there. Trying to breathe. I sprawled there, and wondered what in the hell was happening--
guys were jumping over me, running by me, and I was too dazed to figure it out. Suddenly,
someone had me under the armpits and was dragging me to my feet. It was Seiya.
"You okay, Darien?" (AN: ALL RIGHT!!! Now we know who the main character is! LoL.)
He was shaking me and I wished he'd stop, I was dizzy enough already. I could tell it was
Seiya, though, half because of his voice and half because Seiya's always rough with me
without meaning to be.
"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Seiya, I'm okay."
He stopped right away. "I'm sorry."
He wasn't really sorry. Seiya's never sorry for anything he does. I think it's trippy shit that he
can look just like my Dad, but be the exact opposite of him. My dad was only forty when he
died and he looked twenty-five--everyone thought Seiya and Dad were brothers instead of
father and son. But they only looked alike--my dad was never rough with anyone without
meaning to be.
Seiya's six-foot-two, broad-shoulder and muscular with dark-brown hair that sticks out in
front and has a bit of a cowlick in the front--just like Dad's--but Seiya's eyes are his own.
He's got orbs like pale blue-green ice, determined, like the rest of him. He looks a hell of a
lot older than twenty, tough, cool, and real smart. Greg and I think he'd be real 'hot', like the
girls out here say, if his eyes weren't so dead-looking and hard. He doesn't understand
anything that isn't straight shit. But he stops to think.
I sat down again, rubbing my bruised cheek. Seiya shoved his fists in his pockets. "They
didn't smash you too bad, did they?"
They did. I was in pain, I was aching, my chest was sore, and I was so nervous my hands
were shaking and I wanted to start bawling, but you just don't say shit like that to Seiya.
"I'm aight."
Andy came loping back. But then I'd figured out all the noise I'd heard was the gang coming
to kick the Socs' asses. He dropped down beside me and started inspecting my head.
"You got cut, eh, Dari-boy?" I looked at him blankly. "Huh?"
Andy pulled out a Kleenex and pressed it gently to the side of my head. "You're bleeding
like you did the time you stole the car and tried to drive it."
"I am?"
"Look, ya dumbass!" he showed me the Kleenex, bloody as if by magic. "They pull a blade
on ya?"
I remembered the voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" I guess the knife slipped when he tried
to get me to shut up. "Yeah."
Andy is 'hotter' than anyone I know. Not like Seiya--Andy's movie-star kind of hot, the kind
that people on the street stop to watch. He's not as tall as Seiya, and he's thinner, but he
has a sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.
He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back--long, silky, and straight--and in the summer, the sun
bleaches it to a shining wheat-gold. His eyes are dark-blue--lively, dancing, recklessly
laughing eyes that can be gentle and sympathetic one second, and blazing-pissed off the
next. Dad's eyes, but Andy's one of a kind. He can get drunk in a drag race or when he's
dancing, without even going near alcohol! How weird is that? In the 'hood, it's unusual to
find a kid that doesn't drink at least once in awhile, but Andy never touches the stuff. He
doesn't need to, he gets drunk off life, and he understands everybody.
He looked at me closely. Quickly, I looked away, because if you wanna know the truth I was
about to start sobbing. I bet I was as white as I felt and I was shaking like a baby.
Andy didn't say anything, just rested a hand on my shoulder and shook me gently. "S'aight, Dare.
They ain't gonna hurt you anymore. S'aight."
"I know," I said, calming down. But to my utter horror, my vision was blurring as I stared at
the ground and I felt hot tears running down my face. *God, stop, you loser! You're fourteen,
not four!* I brushed the tears away impatiently. "It just scared me a little, I guess." I took a
deep breath and stopped bawling. You just don't cry in front of Seiya, unless you're as
messed up as Greg was that day. Compared to Greg, I wasn't hurt at all.
Andy tousled my hair comfortingly."You're an okay kid, Dare."
I had to grin--Andy can make you smile no matter what. "You're totally crazy, Andy, out of
your little mind."
Seiya looked like he wanted to smash our heads together. "You're both bonkers," he muttered.
Andy just raised an eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Ken. "Seems to run in the family,
hmm, Sei?"
Seiya glared at him for a minute, then let his face relax into a smile. Andy isn't scared
shitless of him like the rest of us are. Personally, I'd just as soon tease Stone Cold, but
for some reason Seiya seems to like being teased by Andy.
The rest of the gang had chased the Socs' down to their car and tossed rocks at them.
From the shattering sounds, I assumed they had smashed a few windows, too. They all
came running towards us now--four buffed out guys. They were all as hard as Seiya's eyes
and looked it. I had grown up with every single one of them, and they accepted me, if only
because I was Seiya and Andy's little brother, but most of the gang respected me because
I kept my mouth shut the way I'm supposed to.
Yaten Kou was seventeen, tall and buff, with long silvery-white hair he kept swirling backwards
in complicated twists before ending in a lengthy ponytail. He was smart, maybe a little too
cocky for his own good, but he could jack a hubcap quicker and quieter then anyone in the
'hood. He's been Andy's best friend since elementary school. He knows cars upside down
and backwards, and he can drive anything on wheels. He and Andy work at the same gas-
station--Yaten part-time and my brother full-time--and their station got more customers then
any other in town. I don't know if that's because Yaten's so good with cars, or if it's because
Andy attracts girls like honey draws flies. I like him only because he's Andy's best friend. He
doesn't like me--he thinks I'm a tag-a-long and a kid because Andy always takes me when
they go places without chicks. That bugs Yaten a lot, but it's not my damn fault. My brother
asks me, I don't ask him. Andy doesn't think I'm a kid.
Ken Jackson is the oldest of the gang and he's the smart-ass of our group. He's about 6'0",
stocky, and real proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. He's got dark blue eyes and a
big grin. I really don't think he could stop making funny remarks to save his mother's life.
You just can't shut the guy up, he always has to get his 2 cents in. He's famous for shoplifting
and his black-handled blade (which, of course, he couldn't have acquired without his first
talent), and he was always mouthing off to the cops. He really can't help it. According to him,
everything hje says is just so irresistably funny that he just had to let the cops in on it to
brighten up their dull lives. He likes fights, blondes, and for some trippy reason, school.
He was still a junior at eighteen and a half, and he never learned anything. He just went for
fun, I guess, although that I can't fathom. I like him a lot because he keeps us laughing, at
ourselves just like he keeps us laughing at everything else. He reminds me of Jim Carey--
maybe it was the smile.
If I had to pick the real character in our gang, it would definitely be Chad Winston. I used to
like to draw his picture when he was pissed, 'cause then I could get his personality down in
a few pencil strokes. He has kind of an elfian facewith high cheekbones, a pointed chin,
small sharp animal teeth, and ears like Will Smith's only pointier. He hates haircuts or
hair-products, so his long dark-brown hair falls over his rarely seen blazing-ice blue eyes,
the eyes so cold with a hatred of the whole world. Chad spent three years on the wild side
of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten. He was tougher then the rest of us--
tougher, colder, meaner. The inch of difference that separates a greaser from a hood isn't
present in Chad. He's as wild as the boys in the downtown gangs, like Tim Shepard's.
In New York, Chad blew off steam in gang fights, but here in the sticks planned fights are
definitely rare--there's just lots of little cliques and the war between the social classes. A
rumble, when they're called, is just a grudge fight. Then the opponents 'just happen' to bring
their friends around with them. Like the River Kings, and the Tiber Street Tigers, but here
in the Southwest there's no gang shit. Chad, though he gets into a good fight once in awhile,
has no specific thing to hate. No rival gang. Only Socs. And you can't win against them no
matter how hard you try, because they're got all the shit and even kicking their asses isn't
gonna change that fact. Maybe that's why Chad's so bitter.
He has a majorly bad reputation, and his file at the cop station takes a forklift to pick up.
He's been arrested, got drunk and disorderly, rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, beat up
drunks, jumped little kids--he's done everything. I don't like him, but he's smart so you gotta
respect him.
Greg Cade is last--and least. Picture an undergrown, dark little puppy that's been kicked too
much and is lost in a crowd of strangers, and you'll gave Greg. He's second youngest, next
to me, smaller than all of us with a very slight build. He's got these big black eyes in a darkly
tanned face, his hair jet black and heavily greased to the side, but so long that it falls in
shaggy bangs across hiis forehead. He's got this nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, and
that beating he got from the Socs didn't help shit much. He's the gang's kid, everyone's little
brother. Greg's dad is a child-abusing asshole and his mother ignores him, except for when she's
pissed off about something--at which time you can hear her yelling at him all the way down
by our house. I think he hates that more than he hates getting abused. He would've ran away
about a million times if we weren't around. If not for the gang, Greg would've never known
what love and affection is.
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Didya catch 'em?"
"Nope, they got away this time, the dirty..." Ken went on cheerfully, calling the Socs every
name he could think of or make up.
"The kid's okay?"
"I'm okay." I tried to think of something to say. I'm usually pretty quiet around people, even
the gang. I changed the subject. "I didn't know you were out of the slammer yet, Chad."
"Good behavior. Got off early." Chad lit a joint and handed it to Greg. We all sat down to
smoke and relax--weed always lightens the mood. I quit shaking and my color came back,
the joint was calming me down. (AN: I know none of them smoke. Leave me alone, it's a
big part in the original story of The Outsiders.)
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Tuff lookin' bruise you got there, kid."
I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?"
Ken nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."
Tuff and tough are two different words--tough means rough, tuff means cool. In our neighborhood,
both are compliments.
Yaten flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by yourself?" Leave it to Yaten
to bring up something like that.
"I was coming home from the movies. I didn't think..."
"You don't ever think," Seiya broke in, "not at home or anywhere it counts. You must think at
school, with all those good grades and shit you bring home, and you've always got your
face shoved in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? Hell, no, man.
And if you did go by yourself, you should've taken a blade. You can be so stupid, Darien."
I just stared at a tear in the toe of my shoe. Me and Seiya just don't get each other, I can
never please him. He would've yelled at me for carrying a blade if I *had* had one. If I
brought home B's, he wanted A's, and if I got A's, he wanted them to stay A's. If I was playing
football, I should be in studying, and if I was studying, I should be playing football. He never
spazzes on Andy--not even when Andy dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding.
He just yells at me.
Andy was glaring at him. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It isn't his fault he likes to
go to the movies, and it isn't his fault that the Soc's like to jump us. If he'd been carrying a
blade, it would've been a good excuse for them to slice him into a Mc'Donald's hamburger,
and you know you would've gone postal on Darien if he'd had one."
Andy always stands up for me.
Seiya said impatiently, "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid
brother, I'll ask you--kid brother." But he laid off. He always does with Andrew tells him to.
Most of the time.
Next time get one of us to go with you, Darien," Ken said. "Any of us will."
"Speaking of movies--" Chad yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt--"I'm walkin' over to
the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and look for some action?"
(AN: I know that by this time, they'd probably be high, but just pretend there's a very small
amount of weed in the smokes, aight? Thnx.)
Yaten shook his head. "Me and Andy are picking Raye and Mina up for the game."
He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't gonna ask if I could come.
I'd never tell andy, because he really likes Yaten a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Yaten
Kou. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.
Seiya sighed, just like I knew he would. Seiya never has time to do *anything* anymore.
"I'm working tomorrow night."
Chad looked at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Ken? Gregstuff, you and Darien'll come,
won't you?"
"Me and Greg will come," I said. I knew Greg wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced
to. "Aight, Seiya?"
"Yeah, since it isn't a school night." Seiya's really good about letting me go places on week-
ends. On school nights, I can hardly leave the house.
"I was planning on getting smashed straight tomorow night," Ken said. "If I don't, I'll drive
over and find y'all."
Yaten was looking at Chad's hand. His ring, which he beat up a drunk senior to get, was
back on his finger. "You break up with Lita again?"
"Yeah, and this time it's for good. That little slut was cheating on me again when I was in
jail." (AN: Sowy, Lita fans! Real sowy!)
I thought of Lita Kino and Raye Hino and Mina Aino and Ken's many blondes. They were
the only kind of girls that would look at us, I thought. Tough, loud girls who wore way too much
eye make-up, giggled and flirted 24/7 and swore too much. I liked Andy's girl Mina a lot,
though. Her hair was natural blonde and her laugh was soft, like her china-blue eyes. She
didn't have a real good home or anything, and she was our kind--greaser--but she was a
really nice girl, not to mention mega-hot. Still, lots of times I wonder what other girls are like.
The ones that are bright eyed, with soft eye make-up and had their dresses at decent lengths.
The ones that acted like they'd like to spit on us, if given a chance. Some of them are afraid
of us, and keeping Chad in mind, I didn't blame them. But most look at us like we're dirt--gave
us the same kind of look that the Socs did when they came by in their Porsches (AN:
Spelling?) and convertibles and yelled, "Grease!" at us. Sometimes I wonder about them.
The girls, I mean. Like, do they cry when their boyfriend's are arrested, like Raye did when
Yaten got locked up, or did they run out on them the way Lita did on Chad? But then, maybe
their boys don't get arrested, or beaten up, or getting smashed in rodeos.
I was still thinking about it that night when I was doing my homework that night. We were
reading Great Expectations in English, and the protagonist--Pip--he reminded me of us,
the way he he felt like he was shit because he wasn't rich. And the way that bitchy little chick
kept looking down on him.
That happened to me once. One time in biology, I had to dissect a worm and the razor
wouldn't cut, so I pulled out my switchblade. The second I flicked it out--I forgot what I was
doing, or I never would've done it--this girl right beside me--Ami Mizuno--kind of gasped,
and said, "They're right! You *are* a hood." That didn't make me feel so hot. There was a
ton of Socs in that lab--I get put in 'smart classes' cause I'm s'posed to be smart--and they
all thought it was pretty funny. I didn't, though. She was a cute girl, looked real good in yellow.
We deserve a lot of our trouble, I thought. Chad deserves everything he gets, and should
get worse if you want the truth. And Ken--he doesn't really want or need half the shit he
jacks from stores. He just thinks it's fun to swipe everything that isn't nailed to the floor.
Sometimes Ken has a strange definition of fun.
I can understand why Andy and Yaten get into drag races and fights so much, though--both
of them have too much energy, with no way to blow it off.
"Rub harder, Andy," I heard Seiya mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep."
I looked through the door. Andrew was giving Seiya a massage. Seiya's always pulling
muscles; he roofs houses and he's always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder.
I knew Andy would put him to sleep, because he can put out anyone when he sets his mind
on it. He thinks Seiya works too hard anyway, so do I.
Seiya doesn't deserve to work like a man twice his age when he's only twenty. He had been
so popular in high school; captain of the football team and voted Boy of the Year. But we
just didn't have the money for him to go to college, even with the athletic scholarship he'd
won. Now, he doesn't have the time between jobs to even consider college. So he never
goes anywhere, never does anything anymore, except work out at gyms and maybe go
skiing with his old friends once in awhile.
I rubbed my cheek where it had turned purple. I'd looked in the mirror, and it *did* make me
look tough. But Seiya had insisted I put a Band-aid on it.
I remembered how awful Greg had looked when he got beaten up. I had as much, if not more,
right to use the streets in my 'hood as the Socs, and Greg had never hurt them. Why did they
hate us so much? We leave them alone. I practically went to sleep over my homework trying
to figure it out.
Andrew, who had gone to bed by this time, yelled sleepily for me to shut off the light and get
to bed. When I finished the chapter I was on, I did.
Lying beside Andy in the bed we had to share--money was too tight for more beds, Seiya
slept on the couch--staring at the wall, I kept remembering the faces of the Socs as they
formed a circle around me, that blue silk shirt the blonde was wearing, and I could still hear
that doped up voice..."Need a haircut, greaser?" I shuddered.
"You cold, Darien?"
"A little," I lied. Andy threw one arm across my back and mumbled something drowsily.
"Listen, kiddo, when Seiya freaks on you...He doesn't mean nothin'. He's just got more
shit than someone his age is s'posed to. Don't take him seriously...you dig, Dare? He's
proud of you, for real, 'cause you're so smart. It's just a-cuz you're the baby...He loves you
a lot. Savvy?"
"Sure," I mumbled, trying for Andy's sake to keep the bitter edge off my voice. "Andy?"
"Ya?"
"Why'd you drop out?" I never got over that; I could barely stand it when he left school.
" 'Cause I'm dumb. The only thing I was even passing was auto mechanics and gym."
"You're not dumb."
"Yeah, I am. Shut up and I'll tell you a secret. Don't tell Seiya, though."
"Okay."
"I think I'm gonna marry Mina. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything.
I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Seiya with the bills and stuff."
"Tuff enough. Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Seiya off my back."
"Don't be like that, kid. I told you he dosn't mean half of what he says."
"You in love with Mina? What's it like?"
"Hmm." he sighed happily. "It's real nice."
I thought back to the time I thought I loved this girl named Beryl. She was *so* pretty, with long
red hair and shiny emerald eyes,(AN: I know Beryl doesn't have green eyes, but we also
all know that she's not pretty, at all, okay?) her body perfectly curved and seductive in the
long tight dresses she always used to wear. Yeah, she was perfect. Too bad she was evil
through and through. I guess it's just as well that we're through, though--Seiya didn't approve
of her wildly sexy image.
After a few moments of reflection on this, I noticed that Andy's breathing was light and
regular. I turned my head to look at him. In the moonlight, he looked like some modern day
Adonis come to life. I wondered how he could stand being such a hottie. Then I sighed. I
didn't quite get what he meant about Seiya. Seiya thought I was just another mouth to feed
and someone to yell at. Seiya love me? I thought of the hard, pale eyes. Andy was wrong
for once, I thought. Seiya doesn't love anyone or anything, save, maybe, Andy. I barely think
of my oldest brother as human. I don't give a shit, I lied to myself, I don't care about him
either. Andy's enough, and I'll have him till I get out of school. I don't care about Seiya. But
I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
awesome story by Baby Bear--is one of my fave stories at fanfiction.net. It's about these
two rival gangs, the leaders of which being Serena and Darien, of course! LoL. Anyway,
I was reading the Outsiders (by S.E. Hinton) and I thought of her story, and I thought, hey,
what about a Sailor Moon version of the Outsiders? It's an awesome story, so...Anyway.
Here we go! Oh, and by the way--Cheebz is mad at me--I took her doll away because she
was bad--so don't be surprised if she seems a little bitchy.
*Walks off. Chibi Angel sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry after her, then says in
a huffy voice,"
The mean so-called Angel doesn't own Sailor Moon or The Outsiders,
You sure as hell can't sue!
For she calls herself an Angel,
And she's so blonde, she wouldn't know what to do!
*Screams as Angel chases her off the stage with a bottle of water, spraying C-A and making
her squeal. Angel shouts back, ENJOY THE STORY!*
The Outsiders
Chapter One
Getting Jumped
~*Darien's POV*~
I stepped outside of the door, blinking from the ultra-bright sunshine after the darkness of
the movie theatre. I had only two things on my mind: Leonardo DiCaprio and a ride home.
I was wishing that I looked like Leonardo--girls dig him and he looks tuff, unlike me. Sure, I
get my share of girls, and I guess my looks aren't so bad. I have coal-black, almost midnight
colored hair and bluish-green eyes. (AN: Work with me.) I wish they were more blue then
green, because I hate almost every guy I know who has green eyes. But I guess I have to be
happy with what I've got, because there's not much I can do to change that short of getting
tinted contacts and plastic surgery--and I can't afford that. My hair is longer than a lot of guys
wear theirs, but I'm a greaser and none of my gang ever bothers to get a hair cut. Besides,
I look funny with short hair. (AN: As if! You, my dear, *never* look funny.)
It was a long way home and I didn't have anyone to walk with, but that's the way it usually is,
if for no reason other than I like to watch movies alone so that I can really connect with the
actors. l'm different that way--my second oldest brother, Andrew, who is sixteen-going-on-
seventeen, never opens anything other than Playboys and car magazines, and my oldest brother,
Seiya, works way too much to have time to relax with a book.
(AN: I just have to cut in here and let everyone know that characteristics are gonna be changed
slightly in this story--like 'blue-green' eyes, when everyone knows that the character really gas
dark bright blue eyes. Aight? Aight. So please don't flame me saying, 'HE HAS BLUE EYES,
YOU HOE!' or 'SEIYA DOESN'T HAVE ICY BLUE-GREEN EYES, YOU DITZ! GET A
CLUE!', otay? Thnx.)
And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do--for awhile, I thought I was the
only one who did. So I'm usually alone.
Andrew tries to understand my interests, which is more than I can say about Seiya. But then
again, Andy is different than anybody; he understands almost everything. He never yells
at me the way Seiya does, or treats me like I'm four instead of fourteen. I love Andy more
than I've ever loved anyone--even Mom and Dad. He's always so cheerful and I've never
seen him unhappy, where as Seiya's hard and firm and rarely smiles at all. I guess I can
understand, because my oldest brother's gone through a lot in his twenty years. Andy
will never grow up at all. I'm not sure what way's better, but I guess I'll find out one of these
days.
So anyway, I was walking home, thinking about the movie I'd just seen--The Beach--and I
suddenly wished I had someone with me. Greasers like me can't walk alone too much or
they'll get jumped, or someone will come by and scream, "GREASE!" At them, which doesn't
make you feel so hot if you know what I mean. We get jumped by Socs. I have no clue how
you spell it, for all of my academic awards and trophies, but it's the shortened version for the
Socials, the jet set, the West-side rich kids.It's like "greaser", which is used to class all of
us half-ass poor boys on the East side.
We're dirt poor, much poorer then the Socs and far beneath even the middle class. As far
as I can tell, we're wilder too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and destroy houses and
throw keg parties for fun, and get articles in the paper about being society's scum one day
and then an asset to the neighborhood the next. Greasers are kind of like hoods; we steal
things, drive old souped-up cars, rob gas stations and even have gang fights once in awhile.
I don't mean that I do shit like that--Seiya would beat the crap out of me if I got in trouble
with the cops. Since Mom and Dad died in the car crash when I was fourteen, the three of
us got to stay together only if we stayed out of trouble. So Andrew and I did the best we
could to avoid it, and when we couldn't, we're careful not to get caught. I just meant that
most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in jeans and
T-shirts, or leave our shirttails out, and leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not
saying that either Socs or greasers are better--although I would much rather be a grease
then one of those snobby little...Never mind--that's just the way things are.
I know I could've waited to go to the movies until Seiya or Andy got off work. They would
have gone with me, or driven me, or at least walked along--although Andy just can't sit still
long enough to enjoy a movie and Seiya says his life is complicated enough without watching
other people's problems, too. If the above had failed, I could've gotten one of the gang to
come with me, one of the four boys Seiya and Andy and I have grown up with and consider
family. We're practically brothers, and when you grow up in a tight neighborhood like ours
you get to know each other real well. If I had though about it, I could have called Seiya and he
would've come by on his way home and picked me up, or Ken (AN: Lita's boyfriend)
Jackson--one of our gang--would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but
sometimes I guess I don't stop to think. It drives Seiya crazy when I do shit like that, 'cause
I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I
don't stop to think. Besides, I like walking.
I decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I saw the red convertible following me. I was
almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking faster. I've never been jumped, but
I saw Greg after four Socs got a hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Greg was scared of
his own shadow after that. He was only sixteen then.
I knew it wasn't gonna help, though--the fast walking, I mean--even before the convertible
pulled up and five Socs got out. I got kind of scared--I'm kind of small for fourteen, even though
I have a good build, and those guys were way bigger than me. I automatically hooked my
thumbs in my jeans' belt loops and slouched, wondering if I'd make it if I made a break for
it. I rembembered Greg--his face all bruised and cut, and how he'd cried when we found him,
half-conscious, in the empty lot on the corner. Greg had it real rough at home, it took a lot to
make him cry.
I was sweating like crazy, although I was freezing. I could feel my palms getting clammy and
the perspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm really scared. I glanced around
for a pop bottle, or a stick, or...or something. (AN: The pop bottles in this story are all made
of glass, not plastic, like those glass coke bottles that were so cool last year.) Yaten Kou,
Andy's best friend, had once held off four guys with a broken pop bottle, but there was nothing.
So I stood there like an idiot while they surrounded me. I don't stop to think. They walked
around me, slowly, silently, smiling.
"Hey, grease," said one in a sticky-sweet voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser.
We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off. He had a silk shirt on. I can still see it.
Blue silk. *Rather extravagent for a jump,* I thought dazedly. One of them laughed, then
swore me out in a low voice. I couldn't think of any comebacks. There just isn't a lot of shit
you can say while waiting to get bashed, so I just kept my big mouth shut for once.
"Need a haircut, greaser?" the average-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket
and flipped the blade open.
I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that terrifying knife.
And of course, I backed right into one of them. Go figure. They had me down in five seconds--
my arms and legs pinned down and one of them sitting on my chest with his knees on my
elbows. If you don't think that hurts, you're out of your mind. I could smell Tommy cologne and
stale weed-smoke, and I wondered, stupidly, if I would suffocate before they did anything to
me. I was so scared out of my mind, I wished I would. I fought to get loose, and almost did
for a few precious seconds. Then they tightened their grasp on me and the one sitting on
my stomach slugged me a few times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A
switchblade was held against my throat.
"How would you like that haircut to begin just below the chin, grease?"
Right then, it occured to me that they could kill me and I totally spazzed out. I started screaming
for Andy, for Seiya, for anyone. Someone put his hand over my mouth, but I bit it as hard as
I could and nearly gagged when I tasted the blood running through my teeth. I heard a
muttered curse and got smacked again, and they were shoving a bunch of Kleenex in my
mouth. One of them kept saying, "Shut him up, for God's sake, shut him up!"
Then there was shouts and pounding footsteps , and the Socs jumped up and left me lying
there. Trying to breathe. I sprawled there, and wondered what in the hell was happening--
guys were jumping over me, running by me, and I was too dazed to figure it out. Suddenly,
someone had me under the armpits and was dragging me to my feet. It was Seiya.
"You okay, Darien?" (AN: ALL RIGHT!!! Now we know who the main character is! LoL.)
He was shaking me and I wished he'd stop, I was dizzy enough already. I could tell it was
Seiya, though, half because of his voice and half because Seiya's always rough with me
without meaning to be.
"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Seiya, I'm okay."
He stopped right away. "I'm sorry."
He wasn't really sorry. Seiya's never sorry for anything he does. I think it's trippy shit that he
can look just like my Dad, but be the exact opposite of him. My dad was only forty when he
died and he looked twenty-five--everyone thought Seiya and Dad were brothers instead of
father and son. But they only looked alike--my dad was never rough with anyone without
meaning to be.
Seiya's six-foot-two, broad-shoulder and muscular with dark-brown hair that sticks out in
front and has a bit of a cowlick in the front--just like Dad's--but Seiya's eyes are his own.
He's got orbs like pale blue-green ice, determined, like the rest of him. He looks a hell of a
lot older than twenty, tough, cool, and real smart. Greg and I think he'd be real 'hot', like the
girls out here say, if his eyes weren't so dead-looking and hard. He doesn't understand
anything that isn't straight shit. But he stops to think.
I sat down again, rubbing my bruised cheek. Seiya shoved his fists in his pockets. "They
didn't smash you too bad, did they?"
They did. I was in pain, I was aching, my chest was sore, and I was so nervous my hands
were shaking and I wanted to start bawling, but you just don't say shit like that to Seiya.
"I'm aight."
Andy came loping back. But then I'd figured out all the noise I'd heard was the gang coming
to kick the Socs' asses. He dropped down beside me and started inspecting my head.
"You got cut, eh, Dari-boy?" I looked at him blankly. "Huh?"
Andy pulled out a Kleenex and pressed it gently to the side of my head. "You're bleeding
like you did the time you stole the car and tried to drive it."
"I am?"
"Look, ya dumbass!" he showed me the Kleenex, bloody as if by magic. "They pull a blade
on ya?"
I remembered the voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" I guess the knife slipped when he tried
to get me to shut up. "Yeah."
Andy is 'hotter' than anyone I know. Not like Seiya--Andy's movie-star kind of hot, the kind
that people on the street stop to watch. He's not as tall as Seiya, and he's thinner, but he
has a sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.
He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back--long, silky, and straight--and in the summer, the sun
bleaches it to a shining wheat-gold. His eyes are dark-blue--lively, dancing, recklessly
laughing eyes that can be gentle and sympathetic one second, and blazing-pissed off the
next. Dad's eyes, but Andy's one of a kind. He can get drunk in a drag race or when he's
dancing, without even going near alcohol! How weird is that? In the 'hood, it's unusual to
find a kid that doesn't drink at least once in awhile, but Andy never touches the stuff. He
doesn't need to, he gets drunk off life, and he understands everybody.
He looked at me closely. Quickly, I looked away, because if you wanna know the truth I was
about to start sobbing. I bet I was as white as I felt and I was shaking like a baby.
Andy didn't say anything, just rested a hand on my shoulder and shook me gently. "S'aight, Dare.
They ain't gonna hurt you anymore. S'aight."
"I know," I said, calming down. But to my utter horror, my vision was blurring as I stared at
the ground and I felt hot tears running down my face. *God, stop, you loser! You're fourteen,
not four!* I brushed the tears away impatiently. "It just scared me a little, I guess." I took a
deep breath and stopped bawling. You just don't cry in front of Seiya, unless you're as
messed up as Greg was that day. Compared to Greg, I wasn't hurt at all.
Andy tousled my hair comfortingly."You're an okay kid, Dare."
I had to grin--Andy can make you smile no matter what. "You're totally crazy, Andy, out of
your little mind."
Seiya looked like he wanted to smash our heads together. "You're both bonkers," he muttered.
Andy just raised an eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Ken. "Seems to run in the family,
hmm, Sei?"
Seiya glared at him for a minute, then let his face relax into a smile. Andy isn't scared
shitless of him like the rest of us are. Personally, I'd just as soon tease Stone Cold, but
for some reason Seiya seems to like being teased by Andy.
The rest of the gang had chased the Socs' down to their car and tossed rocks at them.
From the shattering sounds, I assumed they had smashed a few windows, too. They all
came running towards us now--four buffed out guys. They were all as hard as Seiya's eyes
and looked it. I had grown up with every single one of them, and they accepted me, if only
because I was Seiya and Andy's little brother, but most of the gang respected me because
I kept my mouth shut the way I'm supposed to.
Yaten Kou was seventeen, tall and buff, with long silvery-white hair he kept swirling backwards
in complicated twists before ending in a lengthy ponytail. He was smart, maybe a little too
cocky for his own good, but he could jack a hubcap quicker and quieter then anyone in the
'hood. He's been Andy's best friend since elementary school. He knows cars upside down
and backwards, and he can drive anything on wheels. He and Andy work at the same gas-
station--Yaten part-time and my brother full-time--and their station got more customers then
any other in town. I don't know if that's because Yaten's so good with cars, or if it's because
Andy attracts girls like honey draws flies. I like him only because he's Andy's best friend. He
doesn't like me--he thinks I'm a tag-a-long and a kid because Andy always takes me when
they go places without chicks. That bugs Yaten a lot, but it's not my damn fault. My brother
asks me, I don't ask him. Andy doesn't think I'm a kid.
Ken Jackson is the oldest of the gang and he's the smart-ass of our group. He's about 6'0",
stocky, and real proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. He's got dark blue eyes and a
big grin. I really don't think he could stop making funny remarks to save his mother's life.
You just can't shut the guy up, he always has to get his 2 cents in. He's famous for shoplifting
and his black-handled blade (which, of course, he couldn't have acquired without his first
talent), and he was always mouthing off to the cops. He really can't help it. According to him,
everything hje says is just so irresistably funny that he just had to let the cops in on it to
brighten up their dull lives. He likes fights, blondes, and for some trippy reason, school.
He was still a junior at eighteen and a half, and he never learned anything. He just went for
fun, I guess, although that I can't fathom. I like him a lot because he keeps us laughing, at
ourselves just like he keeps us laughing at everything else. He reminds me of Jim Carey--
maybe it was the smile.
If I had to pick the real character in our gang, it would definitely be Chad Winston. I used to
like to draw his picture when he was pissed, 'cause then I could get his personality down in
a few pencil strokes. He has kind of an elfian facewith high cheekbones, a pointed chin,
small sharp animal teeth, and ears like Will Smith's only pointier. He hates haircuts or
hair-products, so his long dark-brown hair falls over his rarely seen blazing-ice blue eyes,
the eyes so cold with a hatred of the whole world. Chad spent three years on the wild side
of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten. He was tougher then the rest of us--
tougher, colder, meaner. The inch of difference that separates a greaser from a hood isn't
present in Chad. He's as wild as the boys in the downtown gangs, like Tim Shepard's.
In New York, Chad blew off steam in gang fights, but here in the sticks planned fights are
definitely rare--there's just lots of little cliques and the war between the social classes. A
rumble, when they're called, is just a grudge fight. Then the opponents 'just happen' to bring
their friends around with them. Like the River Kings, and the Tiber Street Tigers, but here
in the Southwest there's no gang shit. Chad, though he gets into a good fight once in awhile,
has no specific thing to hate. No rival gang. Only Socs. And you can't win against them no
matter how hard you try, because they're got all the shit and even kicking their asses isn't
gonna change that fact. Maybe that's why Chad's so bitter.
He has a majorly bad reputation, and his file at the cop station takes a forklift to pick up.
He's been arrested, got drunk and disorderly, rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, beat up
drunks, jumped little kids--he's done everything. I don't like him, but he's smart so you gotta
respect him.
Greg Cade is last--and least. Picture an undergrown, dark little puppy that's been kicked too
much and is lost in a crowd of strangers, and you'll gave Greg. He's second youngest, next
to me, smaller than all of us with a very slight build. He's got these big black eyes in a darkly
tanned face, his hair jet black and heavily greased to the side, but so long that it falls in
shaggy bangs across hiis forehead. He's got this nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, and
that beating he got from the Socs didn't help shit much. He's the gang's kid, everyone's little
brother. Greg's dad is a child-abusing asshole and his mother ignores him, except for when she's
pissed off about something--at which time you can hear her yelling at him all the way down
by our house. I think he hates that more than he hates getting abused. He would've ran away
about a million times if we weren't around. If not for the gang, Greg would've never known
what love and affection is.
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Didya catch 'em?"
"Nope, they got away this time, the dirty..." Ken went on cheerfully, calling the Socs every
name he could think of or make up.
"The kid's okay?"
"I'm okay." I tried to think of something to say. I'm usually pretty quiet around people, even
the gang. I changed the subject. "I didn't know you were out of the slammer yet, Chad."
"Good behavior. Got off early." Chad lit a joint and handed it to Greg. We all sat down to
smoke and relax--weed always lightens the mood. I quit shaking and my color came back,
the joint was calming me down. (AN: I know none of them smoke. Leave me alone, it's a
big part in the original story of The Outsiders.)
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Tuff lookin' bruise you got there, kid."
I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?"
Ken nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."
Tuff and tough are two different words--tough means rough, tuff means cool. In our neighborhood,
both are compliments.
Yaten flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by yourself?" Leave it to Yaten
to bring up something like that.
"I was coming home from the movies. I didn't think..."
"You don't ever think," Seiya broke in, "not at home or anywhere it counts. You must think at
school, with all those good grades and shit you bring home, and you've always got your
face shoved in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? Hell, no, man.
And if you did go by yourself, you should've taken a blade. You can be so stupid, Darien."
I just stared at a tear in the toe of my shoe. Me and Seiya just don't get each other, I can
never please him. He would've yelled at me for carrying a blade if I *had* had one. If I
brought home B's, he wanted A's, and if I got A's, he wanted them to stay A's. If I was playing
football, I should be in studying, and if I was studying, I should be playing football. He never
spazzes on Andy--not even when Andy dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding.
He just yells at me.
Andy was glaring at him. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It isn't his fault he likes to
go to the movies, and it isn't his fault that the Soc's like to jump us. If he'd been carrying a
blade, it would've been a good excuse for them to slice him into a Mc'Donald's hamburger,
and you know you would've gone postal on Darien if he'd had one."
Andy always stands up for me.
Seiya said impatiently, "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid
brother, I'll ask you--kid brother." But he laid off. He always does with Andrew tells him to.
Most of the time.
Next time get one of us to go with you, Darien," Ken said. "Any of us will."
"Speaking of movies--" Chad yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt--"I'm walkin' over to
the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and look for some action?"
(AN: I know that by this time, they'd probably be high, but just pretend there's a very small
amount of weed in the smokes, aight? Thnx.)
Yaten shook his head. "Me and Andy are picking Raye and Mina up for the game."
He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't gonna ask if I could come.
I'd never tell andy, because he really likes Yaten a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Yaten
Kou. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.
Seiya sighed, just like I knew he would. Seiya never has time to do *anything* anymore.
"I'm working tomorrow night."
Chad looked at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Ken? Gregstuff, you and Darien'll come,
won't you?"
"Me and Greg will come," I said. I knew Greg wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced
to. "Aight, Seiya?"
"Yeah, since it isn't a school night." Seiya's really good about letting me go places on week-
ends. On school nights, I can hardly leave the house.
"I was planning on getting smashed straight tomorow night," Ken said. "If I don't, I'll drive
over and find y'all."
Yaten was looking at Chad's hand. His ring, which he beat up a drunk senior to get, was
back on his finger. "You break up with Lita again?"
"Yeah, and this time it's for good. That little slut was cheating on me again when I was in
jail." (AN: Sowy, Lita fans! Real sowy!)
I thought of Lita Kino and Raye Hino and Mina Aino and Ken's many blondes. They were
the only kind of girls that would look at us, I thought. Tough, loud girls who wore way too much
eye make-up, giggled and flirted 24/7 and swore too much. I liked Andy's girl Mina a lot,
though. Her hair was natural blonde and her laugh was soft, like her china-blue eyes. She
didn't have a real good home or anything, and she was our kind--greaser--but she was a
really nice girl, not to mention mega-hot. Still, lots of times I wonder what other girls are like.
The ones that are bright eyed, with soft eye make-up and had their dresses at decent lengths.
The ones that acted like they'd like to spit on us, if given a chance. Some of them are afraid
of us, and keeping Chad in mind, I didn't blame them. But most look at us like we're dirt--gave
us the same kind of look that the Socs did when they came by in their Porsches (AN:
Spelling?) and convertibles and yelled, "Grease!" at us. Sometimes I wonder about them.
The girls, I mean. Like, do they cry when their boyfriend's are arrested, like Raye did when
Yaten got locked up, or did they run out on them the way Lita did on Chad? But then, maybe
their boys don't get arrested, or beaten up, or getting smashed in rodeos.
I was still thinking about it that night when I was doing my homework that night. We were
reading Great Expectations in English, and the protagonist--Pip--he reminded me of us,
the way he he felt like he was shit because he wasn't rich. And the way that bitchy little chick
kept looking down on him.
That happened to me once. One time in biology, I had to dissect a worm and the razor
wouldn't cut, so I pulled out my switchblade. The second I flicked it out--I forgot what I was
doing, or I never would've done it--this girl right beside me--Ami Mizuno--kind of gasped,
and said, "They're right! You *are* a hood." That didn't make me feel so hot. There was a
ton of Socs in that lab--I get put in 'smart classes' cause I'm s'posed to be smart--and they
all thought it was pretty funny. I didn't, though. She was a cute girl, looked real good in yellow.
We deserve a lot of our trouble, I thought. Chad deserves everything he gets, and should
get worse if you want the truth. And Ken--he doesn't really want or need half the shit he
jacks from stores. He just thinks it's fun to swipe everything that isn't nailed to the floor.
Sometimes Ken has a strange definition of fun.
I can understand why Andy and Yaten get into drag races and fights so much, though--both
of them have too much energy, with no way to blow it off.
"Rub harder, Andy," I heard Seiya mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep."
I looked through the door. Andrew was giving Seiya a massage. Seiya's always pulling
muscles; he roofs houses and he's always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder.
I knew Andy would put him to sleep, because he can put out anyone when he sets his mind
on it. He thinks Seiya works too hard anyway, so do I.
Seiya doesn't deserve to work like a man twice his age when he's only twenty. He had been
so popular in high school; captain of the football team and voted Boy of the Year. But we
just didn't have the money for him to go to college, even with the athletic scholarship he'd
won. Now, he doesn't have the time between jobs to even consider college. So he never
goes anywhere, never does anything anymore, except work out at gyms and maybe go
skiing with his old friends once in awhile.
I rubbed my cheek where it had turned purple. I'd looked in the mirror, and it *did* make me
look tough. But Seiya had insisted I put a Band-aid on it.
I remembered how awful Greg had looked when he got beaten up. I had as much, if not more,
right to use the streets in my 'hood as the Socs, and Greg had never hurt them. Why did they
hate us so much? We leave them alone. I practically went to sleep over my homework trying
to figure it out.
Andrew, who had gone to bed by this time, yelled sleepily for me to shut off the light and get
to bed. When I finished the chapter I was on, I did.
Lying beside Andy in the bed we had to share--money was too tight for more beds, Seiya
slept on the couch--staring at the wall, I kept remembering the faces of the Socs as they
formed a circle around me, that blue silk shirt the blonde was wearing, and I could still hear
that doped up voice..."Need a haircut, greaser?" I shuddered.
"You cold, Darien?"
"A little," I lied. Andy threw one arm across my back and mumbled something drowsily.
"Listen, kiddo, when Seiya freaks on you...He doesn't mean nothin'. He's just got more
shit than someone his age is s'posed to. Don't take him seriously...you dig, Dare? He's
proud of you, for real, 'cause you're so smart. It's just a-cuz you're the baby...He loves you
a lot. Savvy?"
"Sure," I mumbled, trying for Andy's sake to keep the bitter edge off my voice. "Andy?"
"Ya?"
"Why'd you drop out?" I never got over that; I could barely stand it when he left school.
" 'Cause I'm dumb. The only thing I was even passing was auto mechanics and gym."
"You're not dumb."
"Yeah, I am. Shut up and I'll tell you a secret. Don't tell Seiya, though."
"Okay."
"I think I'm gonna marry Mina. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything.
I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Seiya with the bills and stuff."
"Tuff enough. Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Seiya off my back."
"Don't be like that, kid. I told you he dosn't mean half of what he says."
"You in love with Mina? What's it like?"
"Hmm." he sighed happily. "It's real nice."
I thought back to the time I thought I loved this girl named Beryl. She was *so* pretty, with long
red hair and shiny emerald eyes,(AN: I know Beryl doesn't have green eyes, but we also
all know that she's not pretty, at all, okay?) her body perfectly curved and seductive in the
long tight dresses she always used to wear. Yeah, she was perfect. Too bad she was evil
through and through. I guess it's just as well that we're through, though--Seiya didn't approve
of her wildly sexy image.
After a few moments of reflection on this, I noticed that Andy's breathing was light and
regular. I turned my head to look at him. In the moonlight, he looked like some modern day
Adonis come to life. I wondered how he could stand being such a hottie. Then I sighed. I
didn't quite get what he meant about Seiya. Seiya thought I was just another mouth to feed
and someone to yell at. Seiya love me? I thought of the hard, pale eyes. Andy was wrong
for once, I thought. Seiya doesn't love anyone or anything, save, maybe, Andy. I barely think
of my oldest brother as human. I don't give a shit, I lied to myself, I don't care about him
either. Andy's enough, and I'll have him till I get out of school. I don't care about Seiya. But
I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.