There wasn't a big crowd at the DX gas station when I rode up at around 11:30. It had taken me forever to find the place, and now that I had found it I realized it didn't look like much. Half the gas pumps looked so dirty that there was a good chance that mud would spurt out instead of gasoline, but this seemed like the cheapest place for gas, so it's the place for me. I gently pushed on the gas pedal of my old truck, hoping it wouldn't fall apart before I got to the gas pump. The last thing I needed was to have to buy a new car. I barely had enough money for gasoline, let alone even a steering wheel off a newer model truck.

I pulled out the keys and made my way to the building where I assumed I paid for gas. The white paint was chipping off the walls, even though it looked like there were several coats of paint. The large DX sign, coated with orange, white and blue paint, was rusted and old. It looked like it could fall over if it was given the chance. The brown roof was patched and torn, and I could hear the pounding of the company trying to restore it. Good luck with that. I thought as I worked my way towards the front.

"36 cents per gallon? Damn this gas station," I said, kicking at a piece of gravel before I entered into the store. I must have been loud, though, because one of the roofers had stopped working and was staring at me. I stared back, and we stayed like that for a good two minutes, tops.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I scuffed at him. The dark haired roofer laughed at me and then continued on his work. I knew that he was laughing at me, but he looked like a large builded muscular doofus, so I wasn't about to pick a fight with him. I sighed and walked into the store.

The hmmm of the air conditioner was the first thing I heard when I walked inside. It was cooler in here than outside, which I was grateful for. The spring time heat was hotter than I'd ever experienced, and the fire house never had air conditioning. I would marry the owner of the DX just for the air conditioner if I was that desperate. But louder than the air conditioner was a teenage boy fighting with an older gentleman at the counter. I made my way towards the back, and heard their conversation as I passed.

"Listen to me, old geezer; it is not your motor. You made me check it five times, it's not in there."

"But it keeps making this noise, listen." The older man went and turned his key again, and the noise was a horrible hisss that was coming from the car. The teenage boy shrugged. I looked at him more closely, wondering why this dip-shit wasn't helping like he was suppose to be doing .He wall tall and lean, having thick greasy hair that was curled back in complicated swirls. He was pissed, I could tell. He was leaning against the wall behind the counter, smoking, glaring at the older man. Poor old guy.

"There's nothing I can do about it man, It's not with the engine."

Stupid dip-shit. I thought. I walked up to the counter. The teenager didn't notice, and he started with the older man again, the two bickering the entire time. I looked at the car in the back. It was the same brand as my truck, so the engine must be the same, right? I knew a bit about cars, scratch that. I love cars and everything about them. The boy was the only one working today as far as I could tell. He still didn't even look my way when I swiftly jumped over the counter and landed with a thud on the other side.

The older man saw me though, his eyes wide with shock. The teenager was still yelling at him about how life sucked and how he couldn't fix it. Sighing, I walked over to the car and lifted up the lid of the engine. I reached down inside by some parts and felt something slimy. I grabbed my hand around the oddly shaped object and yanked it out.

It was a pair of dentures.

"Do- do these belong to you?" I asked him, slightly gagging. Anything that was in other people's mouths just grossed me out.

The teenager finally noticed my existence, turning quickly on the heels of his white Converse to stare at me. "What the hell did you do? And where the hell did you find them teeth? Do I even want to know?" He asked, and then shouted out some more words that I couldn't hear but I knew by reading his lips that they were exactly nice.

The old man quickly regained his composure and walked over to where I standing, eyes wide. "My, my, it's Debra's teeth! My wife has been looking all around this 'here town for 'em. Thank you, young lady," he said, taking them from me. "You'd make a very good mechanic. This town here needs more people like you," the man said, and I watched with disbelief as he stuffed a few bills into my hand and went to leave.

"Hey, wait a minute," The teen said. "I'm the one who fixed your breaks. Don't I get paid for that?" The old man stared for a moment, then took a single dollar out of my outstretched palm and stuffed it into the pocket of the kid's shirt.

"There you go, son." The older gentleman said, and with that he got into his truck and drove away.

That's when he turned on me. I could have swore that he was about to beat the living shit out of me. I instinctively let my hand wander to my back pocket of my jeans where I kept my brother's old six inch switchblade. It was the last piece of my brother that I had left, and since I hadn't used a switch in a while, I was very hesitant about using it. I would if I had to, though, and I thought this moment might be one of those times until I heard the door open. I sighed with relief, until it occurred to me that he might help beat me up to.

The man who had walked through the door walked over to look at us. His dark gold hair was combed back, and I could tell it was long. His dark brown eyes glanced over us and the amazingly white smile that he was walked in with had now faded off his face into a frown. He was looking at me with curious eyes, like he could almost tell what I was grasping in my back pocket. "Steve, man, what are you doing? I told you that you ain't allowed to take girls back behind the counter after what happened the last time. Do I need to remind you?" He said, his eyes still watching me.

Steve turned to face him, his eyes still boiling mad. "Look Soda, man I didn't do nothin'. All I'm doin' is helping this old dude with his car and she just jumps back there behind the counter," Steve said, raising his hands above his head.

"That's a bunch of bullshit, Steve, and you know it," I said, finally invading on the conversation in which I was being left out of. My hand quickly came out of my back pocket and I stuffed it into a front one, hoping they didn't notice. "I just came in here to get gasoline after the creepy roofer dude practically eyed me down," I said, and I saw a look of realization on Soda's face. If that was his name. I wasn't sure because I was being held hostage in a gas station and they never told me there names.

"And this dip-shit was verbally harassing his sweet elderly gentlemen who just wanted his car fixed and Steve here was yelling because he'd already checked the motor five times but the problem was really in the oil pipe, okay? So I jumped across the counter to fix it and found a pair of dentures stuck in there and he gave me this money and then Steve was making a big deal on why he paid me and then turned on me. And that's when you came in," I said, finishing my monologue.

I slammed the money that I still had in my hand onto the counter and fished my change out of my pocket. "All I wanted was to get some gasoline for my car. I didn't want to get into the middle of anything, okay? You can have the money back, even though you treated me like I stole it. I got some change here, and I'll leave that on the counter next to and go pump my own gas," I said, tossing the coins onto the counter next to the crumpled bills, scattering several to the floor.

I headed towards the doorway and Steve immediately got out of my way. I guess I looked mad or something, because I heard Soda following after me out to my truck. I ignored him until I picked up the pump to put it into the car, because that's when he took the pump out of my hands and proceeded to pump the gas for me.

"I'm sorry about my friend in there. His name's Steve, and sometimes he takes things a little too seriously and a little too far. And by the way, I'm Sodapop," He said, watching the meter for the right amount to pop up on the gas tank.

"Your real name's Sodapop?" I asked.

He laughed at me. "I get a lot. But yeah, that's my name. I got a brother named Ponyboy, and the mean looking roofer that you were talkin' 'bout earlier was probably my other brother Darry. He always seems to give that effect on people."

"You guys sure got some wired ass names," I said, suddenly finding an interest in kicking at a stone with my shoe. "My name's Kelsey. I just moved here and this looked like the cheapest place for gasoline, so that's why I came."

"I wondered why I hadn't seen you around here," Soda said, and that's when the gas stopped pumping and he pulled out the pump, staring at my truck with a look of amusement and humor in his eye. "That thing really runs?" he asked me.

I smiled. "You'd be surprised on what this baby can do," I said. He didn't look too convinced, but that's what you get when you drive a truck older than your great- grandfather.

Sodapop laughed, and he finished pumping my gas. "It's been nice talking o you Kelsey, but I'd better get back inside." I looked up from my rock kicking state of mind and he smiled at me. "I gotta calm Steve down before he does something he'll regret later."

I watched as he walked back across the lot and went back inside the building, no doubt going to calm down his friend who almost beaten me with a cash register. I sighed and headed back towards my truck.

I opened the door and was about to climb inside when I heard a sound that would change the rest of my week forever.

The screeching of tires being turned to quickly against the road and loud screaming made me turn around to look. Flying up into the parking lot of the DX gas station was a blue Mustang which was carrying around four or five guys, I couldn't tell, they were going so fast. It surprised me to see a nice looking car in this part of town; from what I could tell the only cars driven out around here were beat up cars made from scrap pieces from the junk yard. From where I was standing I could see the mean looking roofer Darry look down upon it with a strange look on his face, and Steve and Soda almost immediately appeared at the window, glaring. I gulped and turned around to face the Mustang. By the time I looked they had already gotten out of their car and were walking my way, which surprised me. I panicked and a shiver went down my spine; I recognized the smell coming off of them. It was the rotten smell of cigarette smoke and beer that my dad usually had when he came home from the bar, and I realized that these guys meant trouble.

The broader, more muscular one had made his way out front, with the rest following behind, grinning. I gulped and instinctively back up so I was leaning against my truck. I pulled out a cigarette from my pocket and light it up with my lighter. I was trying to quit smoking, but now my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't help it. They were a few feet away from me know, watching me take a long drag off the cigarette before the one in front got close enough that I could smell the liquor on his breathe.

"Hey, baby," He said, putting an arm around my shoulder. I felt myself cringe at his touch and that seemed to please him more. "What's a nice thing like you hanging around a place like this?"

"Get your filthy ass hands off of me, now," I said, trying to duck under his arm. Suddenly he pulled me against his chest, not in a very good way, and I felt a piece of metal touch the base of my throat, right where my jaw line ended. It was a switch; what kind of idiot would pull a switch on a girl he was trying to get?

"Just get in the car, sweetie. I don't want to mess up your pretty face," he said, and I could clearly tell that this was more than just to get me on a date. I turned my head quickly towards the gas station. Steve and Soda were heading over this way fast, and Darry was climbing down from the roof. I couldn't let this happen to them. I barely knew them but yet, I felt like I didn't want anything to happen to them. Even though I barely knew them.

"You got a pretty face too," I said, quickly reaching for my switch in my back pocket. I pulled it out and snapped it open next to me, dropping my cigarette, at an angle where he could very well see the point of the knife gleaming in the distant sunlight. This seemed to surprise him and my grip tightened on the handle of the knife.

"To bad your face is about to get fucked up," I said, quickly ducking under his arm.

That's when the fight began.

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