JC's P.O.V.
I stepped onto the cold cement, kinda bored. The gang wasn't the same. I quickened my pace down the sidewalk, hoods I knew, waving to me. I ignored them all though and kept on walking. I didn't have to say hello to anyone if I didn't want to. After all, I was the leader of the Street Panthers. I could do what I wanted to do, and right then, I wanted to leave.
I walked about six blocks down from my apartment to the park along Maple Grove Avenue and I sat on one of the wooden benches in the park. Down here in Brumly, the hoods owned the park. In Tulsa the park was left to the lovers and little kids, but in this suburb, no such luck for the innocent.
A couple of people I knew walked by and I talked to them awhile, just to be doing something for awhile. Then Chewy Braxton walked by. Chewy was in my outfit and even though I didn't like him very much, he was one of the gang. He was about five foot six, broad shouldered and muscular and rather pudgy (hence his name, he was always eating.) He had curly, blond hair and soft blue eyes with dimples. He looked like a gilr in a lot of ways, but he was a good ol' kid in rumbles. He was sixteen and had once been a member of the Brumly Brutes gang, but their members were getting killed off.
I didn't blame the guy. If I led my gang into rumbles where they were going to die, I'd let them split. It's false courage to face death for pointless reasons. Chewy was looking his usual happy, jolly self that morning, which was making me pretty mad. Did he have the nerve to be happy when I was depressed and bored out of my mind?
"Hey JC." Chewy said to me, sitting down away from me on the bench. The gang knew I hated people being near me. It reminded me of when my parents had loved me and hugged me when I was a little kid. Now they flinched at the sight of me.
"Chewy..." I said with a grim nod. I liked to keep my reputation up for being a real jerk to all that I saw, even my so called 'friends'. "Where's the rest of the boys?" I asked, frowning. I wasn't much in the mood to talk, but I had to. I wasn't sticking around Brumly and I'd have to make one of my little thugs the new leader.
I wasn't being scared away by anything.I just didn't see the fun in running around with low lives anymore. I wanted a future, even if it wasn't a great one, but I didn't want to be marked lousy for my entire life. I wanted to make myself be something better than the rest. Being a greaser was okay, but being a hood and a JD wasn't my favorite thing in the world.
"Yeah, they're down at Erics." Chewy said, cowering. He knew I wasn't in a good mood and he knew not to mess with me. I nodded and stood up, Chewy at my heels. I just couldn't wait to leave. It wouldn't be much longer and I would be a regular, everyday greaser down in Tulsa. It wouldn't be very long, but first thing was first. I had to tell the boys........
PONYBOY's P.O.V.
"Hey Soda? Wanna play football this morning?" I asked, jumping up and down. It was Saturday at last. School had been killing me lately, ever since Johnny and Dally had died. It was okay to talk about them now, Dally and Johnny I mean, but for some reason things were still harder. Like one time I forgot where our house was and ended up at Tim Shepards. That had been one messed up afternoon, having Tim walk in to having me on his phone, trying to remember my number.
"Yeah, okay." Sodapop said, getting up from the couch where he and Two-Bit had been watching Mickey Mouse. Soda came into the kitchen and got a Pepsi out of the ice box and slugged it down. "Just wait until Steve comes up, okay little buddy?" Soda said, sitting back down on the couch.
I could hear Two-Bit bursting into laughter over something Mickey must've done. I wasn't much in the mood for Mickey that morning. It was a re-run anyway, and I couldn't stand re-runs. "Where is Steve anyway? He's usually here before Two-Bit." I asked, cocking an eyebrow because I was finally able to (but not after a weeks worth of practice.)
"He was going up to Brumly on business..." Soda answered, cracking a grin. Apparently the thought of Steve being on 'business' was very funny to Sodapop. It seemed funny to me too. What kind of business would Steve have in Brumly? All there was in Brumly was rough hoods, and the only business I could think of in Brumly would involve drugs of some kind, and drugs weren't Steve's thing.
"What kind of business?" Two-Bit asked, almost reading my thoughts. He had a way of doing that sometimes, just being able to know what we wanted to ask, but were shy to say ourselves. Two-Bit just wasn't a shy guy. He could do almost anything.
"Oh, he's been showing some JD named JC around Tulsa." Soda answered, fond of his joke about a JD named JC. He liked to wise-crack, even if it wasn't as much as Two-Bit. But his jokes always seemed to be stupid or childish while Two-Bit's jokes almost made sense, at least to me they sure did, and they always had a true outlook on life somehow or another.
"Yeah, I know that JC character. He's moving into the house across from y'all's." Two-Bit said pointing to a house, way smaller than our own, just across our road. It was painted white, and the paint was starting to fade. There was a weather worn, picket fence in front and around the sides of the house and on the front lawn there was a SOLD sign.
"Yeah, I heard stories about that JC character." Darry said, walking into the living room. "And I want you to stay away from him Ponyboy. No good will come from you befriending gang leaders from Brumly..." he said to me. I wouldn't have wanted to befriend that hood anyway, I figured. I wasn't going to be a hood myself. I was going somewhere.