Hello everyone! I've already posted this story some months ago, but then took it down because I had added an extra chapter at the end to thank all the reviewers and they said I was not allowed to do that… So, I'm finally reposting "The Right Side of Wrong" because I'm thinking about writing a sequel…and you may want to take another look at this one:-)

1- A new beginning

The day my mother died was the most horrible one for me. Since I'm able to remember, my father and my mother always got along pretty well, even though they happened to fight sometimes because of my older brother, Lewis: he was a bit of a rebel and he could really drive them mad at times. I never knew if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't think before acting. But my mom loved him even though he acted like he was out of his mind sometimes.

Everything changed when mom died. I was fifteen. My brother was almost eighteen. I never understood why, but first he got mad at my father, and then he ran away. I haven't seen him ever since, and since today's my seventeen birthday, I guess two years have gone by since I last saw him, spoke to him, heard his voice. I miss him. Despite him being a jerk to me. I didn't mean to fight with him, it just happened. He always had a reason to be angry at the whole world and he didn't care much about other people...except our mother. That's probably why he ran away. He couldn't stand to live in our house without her. He couldn't stand to stick around.

Still, I wish he'd come back. I love my father, and even if we have our misunderstandings, we live peacefully together. We are not extremely rich, but we are not extremely poor, either: in my city, Tulsa, there's this kind of separation between rich kids who live in the West Side, the Socials, and poor kids who live in the East Side, Greasers. Me, I'm right in the middle: not a Soc but not a Greaser, either. I probably wouldn't mind having some more money, but I couldn't stand being a Greaser, a hood, someone with no decency and even less intelligence. I want to go somewhere. I want to be someone someday. I care about others, I respect people, I'm not a menace to society. You can't certainly say the same about those hoodlums. I never drive by the East Side of town because of them, and I hope I'll never have to. Yeah, Socials are stuckup, and even snobbish and full of themselves sometimes, but at least they don't go around causing problems to honest people. I'd rather be buried ten feet under than have anything to do with those wild guys. I'll never be involved in anything with Greasers, ever. I'll never speak to them unless I'm forced to, I'll never find anything good in any of them.

That's what I used to think...till today. Sodapop Curtis made me change my mind completely.

I had just left my best friend's house and was driving around, because I didn't feel like going back home immediately. I was also looking for some place to work in, because I had just quit my recent job, waiter in a McDonald's. It just wasn't worth it: customers were rude most of the time, the dough I was paid was practically nothing and it was too tiring.

I guess I was really driving absent-mindedly, because all of a sudden I noticed I had very little gas in. I needed to find a gas station quickly. Unfortunately. I didn't know anyone around where I was.

I sighed, slowed down and stopped some pedestrian to ask him where the next gas station was. He gave me a weird look, then told me the way to the nearest one. I thanked him and drove on, till I reached that station. I parked the car and took my sunglasses off (I couldn't drive without them, the sun really annoyed me). Then, a bored voice asked me something: "Hello, what do you need?"

I looked up: a tired-looking guy was eyeing me carefully. He looked about eighteen, maybe seventeen. I've never been good at figuring out people's age. Especially guys. I don't care much for them yet. It may sounds strange since I'm seventeen, but it's the truth: they all look and sound the same to me, and I just don't think they're that special. I can't even remember saying some particular guy was cute-except movie stars. They're a completely different thing. I could kill to meet James Dean. Yeah, I know he's dead, long gone, whatever you want to call it, but he's just so handsome.

However, the tired-looking guy was obviously waiting for an answer, so I opened my mouth to speak: "I just need some gas, I've ran out...of it..." I was slowly realizing he had to be a Greaser. With that hair.

He turned around, motioning to pick up the pump, but another voice, pretty cheerful, filled the air: "Hey, Steve! Go and have some rest, you look awfully pale today! Have you at least slept tonight?" I didn't turn around to look: it wasn't any of my business, even if that guy was yelling out loud. The tired looking one...Steve.. muttered something like "My old man yelled at me till two in the morning and wouldn't leave me alone", before leaving.

"Hi! What do you need?" the owner of the cheerful voice asked, sounding very different from his friend, even if he had asked the same question.

"Just some gas, thanks..." I looked up and caught my breath. Right in front of me was the handsomest guy I had ever laid my eyes upon. He had long golden hair, probably the best looking in town, and two wonderful dark- brown eyes; he was smiling and, boy, if that wasn't an amazing smile I don't know how you call it. He could have been a teenage actor, if he wasn't dressed that way... like a Greaser. In fact, he looked too attractive to be a Greaser. I thought that maybe he wasn't, or that maybe my sick mind was playing tricks on me.

I couldn't help but stare at him as he pumped some gas into my car. He was whistling happily, like he had no worries in the world. Once he turned back to me, I had to hold back a sigh, before asking: "How much is that?"

He replied, grinning. I could tell he was used to grinning, kind of an habit for him.

As I handed him the money, he asked if I wanted him to check the engine.

"Well, it's never given me any problems...I think it's just alright." I said, still staring at him like I had never seen a guy before.

"You never know. Better be sure everything's okay." Then, since I didn't reply immediately, he quickly added: "Checks are for free. I won't ask you for any money."

I nodded and he started checking things. I thought I could just get out the car while he was doing that, since I had been sitting for almost an hour there. I looked around: that was probably the beginning of the East Side of the town. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

"Never been here before?"

"What?" I turned. The guy was still checking.

"Well, I don't remember seeing you round here, and since I work here all day long, I should know." He exclaimed. "Also... you don't look like the kind of girls that live round here..."

Was that a compliment? I wondered. Then, I answered: "Actually, no, I usually don't drive around here...I don't live in the East Side..."

"I see." He said, still cheerfully. He seemed a happy-go-lucky guy. "Well, the engine looks just fine." He closed the bonnet and wiped his hands on some dirty towel.

"Thanks." I was wondering how old he was, since he had said he worked there all the time. Unless he was kidding. He looked like the type.

"You'd better hurry up. It looks like a storm's coming." He pointed at the sky: he was right. It looked like it was going to rain soon, with thunders and lightning bolts and everything.

"Sure." I nodded. I couldn't understand how someone could be so handsome. It wasn't humanly possible…there was definitely something divine in that guy's good looks."Thank you..." I hesitated. I would have liked to know what his name was, but I just couldn't ask him in the first place.

"I'm Sodapop Curtis." He grinned happily. "It's my real name, no kidding." He added.

"It's a cute name...very original..." I replied. "I've got a boring name instead...I'm Sybil Forrester."

"It's not boring. It's a very beautiful name, fits you."

I almost blushed. Even if he probably said that to every girl. "See you, Sodapop..."

"See you!" he grinned, before reaching his friend who was smoking a cigarette not too far away.

I took the last good look at him before driving away. I was feeling strange.