I do not own the outsiders(Violance, drugs, language, rape, rated MA- mature audiance-)
I had to grin at Sodapops astounded look, his head shaking. This was the first day of school, and after turning 15 I asked the unthinkable question.
"Golly kid, no chance." Darry rubbed my hair before turning away. My face fell at such a quick dismissal. Soda didn't seem ready to jump in and defend me as if he agreed. No job until you're 16, you dig? It felt like an unwritten rule at this point. Groaning, I opened the front door, stumbling onto the porch. I could faintly hear Darry's irritated call after me, and Soda dismissing him. Sure it was a little early to get to school, but I figured having some extra practice for my track racing wouldn't hurt. I was wrong, laughably so.
"Hey, greaser!" A soc called. Or, I'm sure it was a soc since that word only sounds so nasty in their mouths. I'm still on my side of town, aren't I? Hell, I hadn't even reached the school yet. Attempting to ignore them didn't work, I almost jumped outta my skin when I felt a stick give me a good thrashing.
"Shit, greaser, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're looking a little pale." A soc hit my shoulder then, and another one went for my knee. Golly, I'd be lying if I said the pavement didn't hurt a bit. But it ain't so tough admitting a thing like that.
"I'm glad you know better," I grunted, starting to lift myself up. Another kick in my side had me toppling over. The greaser towering over me had a switchblade in hand and a godawful look on his face.
"See where those smart remarks get you, greaser? I'll treat you right, don't sweat it. Hell, want some water? Pony here seems mighty thirsty. John, get 'em some water." The boy patted another kid on the shoulder, a grin on his face. I heard the zip and knew right then. Scrambling to turn over, I then felt hard hands on either side of my arms shove me down.
"You dare? I'm giving you something to drink, be grateful, you damn dog!" Something hard hit me in the chin, sending my head to snap back on the pavement. It hurt like nobody's business, and blood pooled on my tongue.
"Fuck y-!" My cries ended as a hot liquid splattered in my mouth, which was held open by someone I couldn't see. I wanted to cry then, to throw something at someone. I gurgled and choked, feeling the hands lift off of me, allowing me to turn around and vomit. I held myself up with my forearm, wiping at my mouth with the other hand. I knew these people were ornery, disgusting bastards. The breathing close to my face told me they had gone and gotten themselves soused, the smell of something rotten made my discomfort even worse.
"You look like a regular JD now, you know? Straight out of jail." This was John's voice as he zipped himself back up, yet he still seemed annoyed. He grabbed my chin, turning it back and forth, then started down on my chest. He took the other guy's switchblade straight out of his hand, cutting up my shirt.
"Let's have some fun 'fore the fuzz shows up."
3rd person
The gang felt the tension rising, worse and worse with each passing second. After Soda received the call that Pone wasn't at school, an unexcused absence, Darry came straight home and called the gang.
Soda's shift hadn't started until noon, which now seemed like a blessing. Steve had grumbled some but searched high and low nonetheless. The gang about went crazy until what sounded like Two-bit's warcry.
A group of 5 were crouched around, and some were on top of a figure. The red-ish hair was a dead giveaway, and the gang practically simmered with anger. Dally pulled out a pistol, aiming it at the kids' car. He missed, unfortunately, and they drove away with haughty laughs.
"Crap.." Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking over Pony's body. He was naked, and words were carved into him. Greaser. Worthless. Disgusting. Mutt. Faggot. Some other initials and burns-caused by a lighter-were oozing with fluids and blood. Darry just about snapped at the frozen gang, wheeling on them.
"Get him in the goddamn car!" Darry himself was digging in a bag hanging on his shoulder, bringing out a first aid kit. Two-bit was huffing, apparently having gotten a few hits on the Socs before they had arrived. A bruise swelled up really nice on his arm, but all his attention was on Ponyboy.
Sodapop had dropped to his knees beside his brother, he almost looked green. Dally still held the pistol in his hand, grip tight with a set jaw, but nodded as he turned around. The car was a little out of the view of the alley, they all had only just gotten out of it a few minutes ago.
"Ss..ss-ss-Soda?" Ponyboy licked his lips like he was trying to figure out how to say his brother's name. Two-bit leaned in, ignoring Darry's angry look.
"We're here baby, your big brothers are here." Darry soothed, trying to find somewhere to pat that didn't look too tender. Pony nodded, eyes opening like he was trying to confirm it.
"I didn't cry, ya know? I.. I didn't want 'em to have that satisfaction. They did something real bad, huh? A-and I'm cold, golly I'm cold." Pony squeezed Soda's hand. Soda was really tough when it came to almost anything, but hell, if it was his brother, he was the weakest. A tear escaped Soda and he nearly sobbed.
"Shit Pone.." He trailed off, and Darry ran a hand over his own face. Johnny wasn't there and Pony didn't ask why either, he just smiled. The car's sputtering engine came to a halt behind them, and Two-bit started to pick Pony off the ground. Darry supposed he did it only 'cause it didn't look like Soda was in any shape to move.
Dal's face was set in stone, though a flicker of worry flashed in his eyes, and Steve only glanced through the window at him for a moment before walking over to Soda. He shook his still figure, gritting his teeth.
"C'mon Soda, your little brother needs you, hell he's naked in a car with a whole bunch of guys." Steve attempted to joke, but Darry wasn't having it. A hard hit in his jaw seemed to make everything go quiet. The air was tense, though Soda did at least stand-up, head shaking.
"Randle, take off your jacket and shirt.. pants too, and give them to Pony." Soda barked out the order in a more stern voice than they'd ever heard him use. At that, Two-bit cracked a smile, refusing to meet Steve's eyes. "Ride home in your boxers," he grumbled, almost inaudibly as he moved towards the car.