The Socs got out of their cars. I wasn't ready for this. Darry and Soda both took a quick glance at me, and then they turned back to the Socs.
Blood. It was written on their faces. They looked at me, knowing I was the one to blame. Then they looked at Dallas, equally hating him.
I shouldn't be here. None of us should be. But I shouldn't because I should be dead. That would have made things simpler. It would have made my life easier.
Darry stepped up to them, as did another one of them.
"I'll take you." Darry said. The guy in front of him, their supposed best guy, nodded and smiled.
They walked around in circles, staring each other down, both preparing to make their move. I was scared. Within minutes I'd be in the middle of the biggest rumble we'd ever had. I didn't think I was ready for it, but I had no choice but to fight.
The seconds seemed like hours. And then, surprising us, Darry made the first move, and the rumble was on.
Johnny and I looked at each other quickly. We both usually helped each other out, and we knew this one wouldn't be any different.
Johnny and I picked out a smaller Soc, and made our move. I kicked him in the stomach, while Johnny punched him in the face.
The guy went down, and we had our first fight won. Two against one wasn't fair, but it was how we got by.
Steve was behind us, digging into one of the Socs. He wasn't just going to hit him and move on to the next guy. He was going to take each one down so they'd never get up. He played dirty, and no one wanted to mess with him.
Dallas was holding his own fairly well. His side must have hurt because he was gritting his teeth. He punched and kicked and was all over the place. But, like Steve, he wasn't going to let the Soc go easily.
Two-Bit had a look of rage on his face. It was scary to see him in a rumble. He was hitting guys one by one, not taking the time to see who he was hitting. That could be dangerous for us.
Soda was punching guys left and right. I didn't want to leave Johnny, but Soda needed my help. Johnny looked over at me, saw where I was looking, and nodded his agreement. We'd come that close that we knew what the other was thinking.
I ran over to Soda, punching one of the guys that was really causing him problems. Soda looked relieved and continued to take down the main guy.
I took off after I had helped Soda. I saw that Johnny and Curly were working together. Before I could make a choice for myself, one of the Socs made one for me.
I was knocked to the ground. I was surprised I hadn't been picked out sooner. The Soc kicked me in the ribs, and I yelped out with pain. I had just broken my ribs, and they were still mending. I doubt they'd heal right now.
I tried to stand, but I wasn't quick enough. I kicked, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Luckily, Darry had my back.
Darry took the Soc by the shoulder and punched him in the face, knocking the guy out cold. I stood as quickly as my aching body would allow me. Darry nodded at me, and then moved on to two new guys for him. I knew he'd have my back, but I hoped he wouldn't forget about me.
I took on a guy who didn't look too big. Luckily, I had surprised him, so that helped me. I punched him in the face, and he went stumbling backwards. He came back with a hit that knocked the wind out of me, and when I looked up, I froze.
The guy had a knife, and he was ready to use it. As if on key, almost everyone pulled out a blade. Even Soda had one. Darry didn't, but he didn't need one. He was too fast to give the guy a chance to reach his pocket.
But the problem was, I didn't have one.
I stood back up and the guy continued. He jabbed at me, and I backed up. Guys were cutting each other and blood was everywhere. This would be a final moment for all of us.
Dallas looked like an expert at it. He was jabbing at his opponent, and although the other guy had a knife too, Dallas was winning against him. I didn't know how he did it. He was full of surprises, but he was such a hood in his own way that I wouldn't put anything past him.
The Soc I was fighting sliced at me, and I tried to avoid every blow. I held up my arm to protect myself, and was rewarded with a thick cut on my forearm.
I held my arm, wincing with pain. I couldn't let this guy get the best of me.
I looked around for an old bottle or pipe. There was nothing that could help me. We moved around, the Soc chasing me and me running away.
I was able to get away for a long enough time to get a fallen tree limb. It wouldn't be much, but it'd help.
When the Soc I was fighting approached, I stuck out the branch. I swung at him and he backed up. At least I was on the offense now.
With a final blow, I hit the guy upside the head and he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He was out cold and I stole his blade.
I looked around for someone to fight, but noticed that we were thinning out a lot. People had chickened out, and I didn't blame them. I had thought of it a time or two myself.
Two of the Socs saw me, and came after me. I whimpered with fear and turned and ran.
Instead of staying in the lot, I ran away. It was probably stupid of me, but I didn't want them anywhere near me. I knew I was a fast runner, so maybe I'd get lucky and they'd be slow.
No such luck.
They chased me, and before I got to our house, I was out of breath.
If I hadn't had broken ribs and a bleeding arm, I could have run for hours. But I wasn't in the shape I should have been in.
"Greaser!" The Socs yelled, and I tried to run again, but I couldn't.
I backed away as they came closer. I didn't want to have anything to do with them, but it seemed I had no other choice.
"Hey, grease. What were you runnin' for?" His voice was deep and menacing. I didn't want to be here. I wished for Darry or Soda to come save me.
I gathered my strength up, and ran. They were close on my heels, but I decided I had to be back at the lot.
Soon before I got to the lot, a loud roar came over the whole lot. Someone had won, and I wondered who.
When the guys came into view, I knew we had won. It felt good, and I was happy for us.
I ran into the lot, and saw the gang. Everyone was bloody and bruised, but through the pain, they were smiling victoriously.
I stopped when I got into the lot. I figured the guys had stopped by now, since they had lost.
Darry looked around, probably for me. I gave him a small wave and he saw me. He came running up to me.
"You okay?" He asked as he approached. Darry had a black eye and a cut on his forehead. He didn't look as bad as most of us, but I figured that was because no one wanted to mess with him, and whoever did, got what they deserved.
Before I could answer, someone yelled Darry's name.
"I'll be back." He said over his shoulder as he ran to Steve, who had called Darry's name.
I backed up, planning on going home, when I felt my t-shirt split in two. A cold metal cut into my back in a long line. I gasped, too surprised to even cry out in pain. They'd been waiting on me. They knew Darry'd leave. They came back.
One of them placed their foot on my back and pushed me to the ground. I didn't need much help, though, because I was already going down.
"That's what you get, you greaser." One of them said, and then they were gone.
I was numb to the pain. For some reason, I didn't feel it. I looked around. I wasn't unconscious, and I wasn't dead. So how come I couldn't feel it? I could move. I could breathe. But I was cold and numb.
I saw why Darry was called over. Soda was out cold on the ground. I got up and walked over to him.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice sounding weird.
"He just passed out. He got a little cut on his arm, but nothing bad. He's just worn out, I guess." Darry said.
He scooped Soda up and we all walked home.
I sat down on the couch, exhausted.
Darry worked on Soda first, since he had passed out and everyone wouldn't hear of getting helped first. Two-Bit looked awful. His hand was split open and his lip was swollen. The right side of his face was turning purple, and he had a strange limp.
Steve wasn't bad. He had a cut on his side that was bleeding a lot, but other than a black eye, he was fine.
Johnny looked okay, because Dallas took care of him. He had a sore side, from a few broken ribs, but that was about it. His face was bloody from a cut on his forehead. It wasn't bad, though.
Dallas looked bloody, but he was smiling. I think his bullet wound reopened, but he didn't care. He had a cut on his cheek and bruises showed up along his arms.
And there I sat, bleeding like a stuck pig. But I didn't tell anyone. I didn't care. I didn't hurt. Besides, I deserved it anyway.
When Darry finished up Dallas, the last of his patients, he turned to me.
"Are you hurt, Pony?" He asked, looking around for the damage.
He noticed my arm.
"Come over here so we can wash that up." He said, motioning to the sink.
I stood and everyone gasped at the red stain on the couch. What was the big deal?
"Pony. . .what happened?" The now-conscious Soda asked.
Before I could answer, I passed out cold.
