Hey, peepazoids . I'm mewmelon, and I've been addicted to this site for a good three years, now… However, because my downstairs computer (i.e., only connection to the mahhvelous thing we call internet) didn't have Microsoft, I've had to suffer in vain. sob Terrible, isn't it? So anyway, I finally got Microsoft, and… here I am. Because I simply can't wait until I write something full length, I'm submitting this (a school project meant to show I understood the vocabulary. WHY, oh WHY did they take away the honors classes?) as a means of tiding me over until I can begin my anime madness… rubs hands together evilly Kohji Minamoto WILL be mine…
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Outsiders, glorious bishounen that they are. S.E. Hinton does. Sigh. The only things I do own are the birds dive bombing into the window above my head. And not getting back on the tree. Hm. Better go fix that.
"And you wonder why none of us from the east side eat here. I bet they stamp your face into Gorilla-!"
The door was slammed in Two-Bit's face, blowing back all his hair, save for the side burns. But I reckon he didn't care much, because he kept right on talking.
"We don't need your charity! We don't need your fancy napkins! We don't need-"
"Oh, lay off, Two-Bit." I groaned, struggling to my feet. "It's Rusty's. Did you honestly think they'd let us in?" I took a second to dust off my jeans jacket, and then expectantly glanced back at Two-Bit. His mouth was open (big surprise there), but nothing was coming out. "Thought so." Hitching my thumbs into my belt loops, I aimlessly began to wander over to Two-Bit's car. "I mean, that is where all the Socs hang out…" My mind drifted off to Corvette's and patios and pretty girls in yellow dresses that actually came down to below their knees. "Sophisticated, stuck up, mean old Socs…"
Two-Bit took one last lingering look at the door the manager had just booted us out of, before finally loping after me. "Hey- who says I ain't sophisticated?"
I stopped yanking at the (locked) car door to skeptically look him over. "Unspoken rule."
Two-Bit pulled his key out of a pocket, tossed it up in the air, and caught it. Cocking an eyebrow, he grinned at me. "Well, kid, rules are for breaking." He jammed the key into the door. "Just get in the car. Dally's already in a mighty foul mood, and it won't help nothing if we're late."
We were late anyway. About half an hour or so behind the "contracted time", as Two-Bit had called it in a sudden attempt of sophistication. This may or may not have been because Two-Bit had pulled over to flirt with Evie, but I had a soda pop in my hand he had paid for that said other wise.
Anyway, the rest of the gang was waiting, lurking out behind the Nightly Double fence we had planned to crawl under, and none of them looked too happy.
Then again, Dally never looked too happy. The way he was leaning on that fence, cancer stick glowing in the dark, I couldn't really tell if he cared that we'd showed up or not. But that's Dallas for you- the boy oozes aloofness.
Johnny Cade was practically hiding behind him, cocoa skin blending in with the shadows. I couldn't rightly see his face. But I didn't have too- Johnny always has an expression of unfathomable fear on his mug. The way his parents beat him, it's no surprise.
My older brother Sodapop was sprawled out on the fried grass, laughing up at the stars. That's just the way he is- everything's funny to Soda.
Steve, who I can't say I liked too much, was next to him.
Darry was the only one I could see clearly. Probably 'cuz he was right up in my face the minute I got out of Two-Bit's car.
"Where have you been!" Darry's cold eyes were lit up like fire.
This sort of thing was probably supposed to scare me- rattle my nerves. But if there was one thing I didn't need, it was Steve griping about the "whiney, little kid". So I played it cool. Or tried to, at least.
"Aw, Darry, we're sorry…" I scuffed my beat up tennis shoe against the grass.
Steve contemptuously spat at the ground. "Sure you are. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have shown up. You even had to go and make Two-Bit late, too."
That caught me off guard. "Hey," I barked. "I was ready to go, right on time, but he-"
Two-Bit inconspicuously coughed into his hand.
"He…" I faltered.
The hand clenched slightly, forming a fist that suddenly began shaking…
I sighed, and unenthusiastically launched into the lame speech he'd prepared. "It was all my fault. I had to go to the bathroom, so Two-Bit stopped at the gas station. Evie was not involved. Yep." I flatly stated. "It was all my fault."
"See? What'd I tell you?" Steve drawled. "It was that good for nothing whiney little kid."
I cringed. "Can't say I didn't see that coming…"
Darry rapped his knuckles across my shoulder, in that careless, less than gentle way of his. "Just get into the movie, alright?"
"Yeah, alright." I hung my head.
The gang all moved toward the trench below the fence in one fluid motion, Sodapop lazily stretching his long limbs.
Once I was sure no one was looking, I rubbed my arm. "Ow…"
We all filed into a row of seats, loaded with popcorn, just in time for the movie. It was another one of those beach shows that weren't about anything in particular, and was probably meant for the Socs. Isn't everything good in the world?
Just like it's an unspoken rule that greasers can't be sophisticated, it's an unspoken rule that all Socs have to follow some pact of conformity. They all sing "Grea-ser" the same way, and they all watch the same movies, in a sort of harmony.
So I don't know why I was so surprised when a whole pack of them filtered into the seats in front of us, checkered madras burning their flashy colors through the dark.
"Johnny- what are they doin' here?" I hissed.
"Probably come to kick us out," Johnny resignedly sighed, the air whistling out his thing lips. "Too bad, huh, Ponyboy? They've got the pretty red head with them…"
My head jerked up. Sure enough, there was Sherri Valance.
"Naw, man, we're staying."
Johnny raised his eyebrows, as if to say "You gonna get beat up for a chick?"
And beat up I got. Soon enough, the whole gang was in on it, and Two-Bit was hollering in the background.
"I bet they stamp your face into Gorilla Cookies-"
"Oh, lay off, Two-Bit." I groaned, struggling to my feet.
Sometimes, dejavu is just unavoidable. At least for us greasers, anyway.
YAY! Now, onto other madness… ARIGATOU FOR THOSE WHO ACTUALLY STUCK AROUND TO READ THIS MESSAGE! I APPRECIATE THAT YOU BOTHERED!