Before I knew it, the week went by fast. I never really talked to anyone; no one interesting, anyway. If I don't think you're interesting, then I won't talk to you. But I've already been noticing all of the trends and all of the guts of this school. Apparently, if you live around here, you're either a Soc, or a Greaser. There's some middle people who try to be one or the other, but they're just the nobodies. The real interesting people were the somebodies. So I observed them the most.
Turns out, the neighborhood I live in is real crummy. It looks it, but I never figured that so many gang fights happened. Almost every Friday, someone new gets shot or loses some teeth. And everyone talks about it as if it were the Daily News, all casual. I liked it. I liked everything being casual.
I also figured out that the blonde kid's name was Dallas Winston. He's apparently real famous around here, for all the wrong reasons. I didn't see him in class after that day to really learn anymore about him. I didn't know if it was because he was suspended again, or if he was just skipping class. But then again, with the teachers, I could understand that. I'll probably start skipping sometime soon, too; everything was just crummy around here.
Every now and then I would be mistaken for a 'Greaser', for my lack of caring about my attire. Sure, I wore tight stuff, and even now and then would wear a girly shirt, but I always wore jeans. I owned a few high-cut jean skirts, but those were only for special occasions. Dirty sneakers and hair that wasn't perfect automatically labels you a Greaser around here, from what I've learned. I've been humoring myself with the thought of spit-shining my shoes in front of the next person who calls me a Greaser, and combing down my hair. It kind of looks untamed, but it doesn't look dirty or messy. Just wild.
Have you ever looked at someone before and imagined that in some other life that they were an animal? Or they are now? Not in a primal sense, just in a pitiful one.
That's what I immediately thought, when I met Johnny.
I knew he was friends with Ponyboy and Two-Bit, and he was in my Math class, 'cuz well, I'm not very good at Math and he isn't, either. He sat in the back, next to me for a week without saying a word, but I knew he looked at me from time to time. He was probably wondering if I was a greaser. I wear such weird clothes, though, I could get confused with a bum who dresses herself in the dark. I think the day I finally talked to him, I was wearing tight, torn plaid jeans -- talk about tacky, but I liked it -- and some random tight blue shirt. Maybe my style scares people. But, Johnny always looked scared.
Since he was friends with.. well, the only couple of interesting people in the school (and I also knew that he was friends with Dallas Winston), I'm sure he was interesting too. Behind those terrified, pitiful eyes, there was something that anyone could love. Or at least, feel sorry for. I just wasn't sure exactly what.
"Psst. Ya' know the answer to number one?" I waited for an answer. At first, he didn't know I was talking to him, but when he did, he recoiled suddenly and observed his paper quickly as if it had the meaning of life written on it in Jesus Christ's blood. He found nothing.
"Uh.. nah, sorry." His voice was a little shaky at first, but he managed to crack a small grin. I grinned back, to make him feel comfortable, and plus, I just wanted to.
"What about number two?" I knew the answer to that question, too, but I just wanted to keep a conversation. It sucks asking a question that someone doesn't know the answer to, and then staying silent. Especially someone that seemed in desperate need of conversation; he was a real quiet kid.
"I.. don't really get this stuff." He seemed slightly embarrassed at that, but I just grinned again.
"Me neither." I then leaned back in my chair, and tried to look a little cooler than I was. I really need to work on being girly.. but he laughed. It was silent for a moment, and when I glanced back at him, he was staring. So he immediately tried to think of something.
"..You're new, huh?" Well, I could tell he didn't talk much. I was sitting next to him for an entire week, a week of complete silence, and now he asks. I laughed a little. He seemed confused, but knowing at what I was laughing at the same time.
"It doesn't take long to get used to this place." I relaxed and sunk into my chair. Thinking back on my words, I wondered if it was a good or bad thing. He gave me a warm smile, as if he knew what I was thinking and he was reassuring me, and from then on we'd have short and sweet small talks every class. He may not be the smartest kid academically, and he may be a social hermit, but he's a good kid. Behind those sick, puppy dog eyes, he's kinda cute, especially with all that hair in his face. Not like a Beatles haircut, but he didn't pull it back with a bunch of grease.
I used to wonder, before I started talking to him, why he had perfect attendance. Why he was always praised and pitied by everyone. He did look pitiful, but it wasn't that obvious. Why was he held up by everyone, even the Greasers -- with the exception of the Socs -- and then I knew why, just by talking to him. Why he always came to school, to get away..
His eyes were too simple for me, though; Johnny Cade could be a best friend of mine a million times over, but I would never find a peaking interest in him. I didn't think we'd get that close anyway, but really, he was the closest thing I had aside from Two-Bit and Pony.