It had only been a few hours since I was staring out into the Italian countryside. Already it was an unreal dream and yet at the time, I couldn't have imagined any other world.

Dally could take anything.

If I did well on things.. if? no, please not if. Even if I did well on things I'd still have the label as greaser.

I was trembling. A pain was growing in my throat and I wanted to cry, but greasers don't cry in front of strangers. Some of never cry at all, like Dallas. They forgery how to at an early age. I'm dreaming, I thought in panic. I'm dreaming. I'll wake up in Italy or at home and everything will be like it used to be. But I didn't believe myself. Even if I performed well, I'd still be a greaser. Still looked down upon witch I hated and didn't want. I didn't trust myself to speak. If I said one word, the lump in my throat would swell, and I'd be crying in spite of myself. Serious reality has a hard time coming through to me, but when it does it hits me hard.

I looked at my friends sleep and they looked younger when they'd are asleep, maybe people are younger when they sleep.

The greaser thing kinda bugged me even if I had good friends to make up for it.

You would have thought it had been 10 years instead of 10 days since I'd last seen my friends after I got back from Italy, but I didn't mind. I have friends that are good buddies to have.

My friends asked "how do you like being a hero big shot?"

"How do I like what?"

"Being a hero like a big shot even"

It was about all my saves from lifeguarding.

When I talk about my problems to grown ups, I don't say Socs because most grownups don't know about the things that go on between us.

No. Not if I thought again. Why do they keep saying if?

The big rumble was coming up and we would settle thing Soc greaser thing once and for all.

Sometimes I sassily thought to my friends that didn't work yet: "ever consider getting a job for a living?"

Sure I'd get mad at my friends sometimes, but it was about impossible to get mad at Two-bit.

We pulled up to the Dairy Queen and I saw the Socs. I hated them. It was their fault I was a greaser. I hated them as bitterly and as contemptibly as Dallas Winston hated. "You know the rules. No jazz before the rumble"

"We know." Randy said. She looked at me. "Come here. I want to talk to you."

We got in her car.

"I saw your name on the honor roll. I never could have believed a greaser could pull something like that."

"Greaser didn't have anything to do with it. My buddy over there wouldn't have. Maybe you would have. It's the individual."

"I'm not going to show at the rumble tonight." Randy said slowly.

I took a good look at her. She was 18 or so but she was already old. Cherry had said her friends were too cool to feel anything and yet she could remember watching sunsets. Randy was supposed to be too cool to feel anything, and yet there was pain in her eyes.

"I'm sick of all of this. Sick and tried. I'm the best buddy a guy ever had. Sure I'm a good fighter and tuff and everything, but I'm a real person too, you dig?

I nodded.

"My parents are proud of me being smart and everything but…I don't know why I'm telling you this. I couldn't tell anyone else. They'd think I was off my rocker or turning soft or something. Maybe I am. I just know that I'm sick of this whole mess. And tonight…people get hurt in rumbles. Maybe even killed. I'm sick of it because it doesn't do any good. You can't win you know that don't you? I remained silent and he went on: "you can't win even if you whip us. You'll still be where you were before at the bottom and we'll still be the lucky ones with all the breaks. So it doesn't do any good, the fighting. We'll forget it if you win or if you don't. Greasers will still be greasers and Socs will still be Socs. Sometimes I think it's the ones in the middle who are really the lucky stiffs."…. He took a deep breath. "So I'd fight if I thought I'd do any good. I think I'm gonna leave town. Get out."

"Running away won't help"

"Oh hell, I know it. Randy half-sobbed. "But what can I do? I'm marked chicken if I punk out of the rumble and I'd hate myself if I didn't. I don't know what to do."

"I'd help you if I could"I said, remembering Cherry's voice: Things are rough all over. I knew then what she meant.

He looked at me: "No, you wouldn't. I'm a Soc. You get a little money and the whole world hates you."

"No." I said. "You hate the whole world."

"What'd he want? Two-bit asked. "What'd Mr. Super-Soc have to say?"

"He ain't a Soc. He's just a guy. He just wanted to talk."

I still had a headache, but I felt better. Socs were just guys after all. Things were rough all over alright, but things were better that way. That way you could tell that the other guy was human too.