Chapter Text
Johnny Cade was the smallest of the small group of Greasers. The group consisted of 3 boys whose parents were killed in a car crash. Darrel Curtis was the oldest and often looked after the family when he wasn't at work. His brother, Sodapop Curtis, was the middle child. He worked at the nearby gas station, but spent most of his time flirting with the female customers since his girlfriend left.
Ponyboy Curtis was the youngest brother and the youngest in the gang, which Darrel only let him in reluctantly on his fourteenth birthday. Johnny was the second youngest, now sixteen and Pony being fifteen. Dallas Winston was the toughest by far even if he wasn't the oldest. Why he moved from New York to a shitty town in Oklahoma is a mystery to anyone. Keith, whom they called Two-Bit, was eighteen and a professional thief. He'll give you something and say the shop owner gave him a discount. It's usually stolen, and probably beer even though none of the gang was old enough to legally drink it. Then there's Steve. Soda pops best friend since they were kids.
"Johnny? Johnny, are you paying attention?" Soda said as he waved a hand in front of Johnny's face.
"Hm? Yeah.." He replied, still off in his own world and staring at a scratch on the oak wood table. Two-Bit had started drawing on it a couple months ago to show Dally (Dallas) how sharp his new pocket knife was and Darrel gave him hell for it.
How was Johnny supposed to pay attention? Finally, his abusive dad was in jail, but his mother fell ill recently and had to be hospitalized. She hadn't shown any signs of improvement and it was lonely in his house. He didn't have siblings and hated inviting people over. What was he supposed to show them? The hole his dad punch in the wall when Johnny got a bad grade in English? The broken cabinet he was thrown into when defending his mother from him? Maybe the busted door that his father kicked open and beat the hell out of him when a socialite's father said he was a faggot. There wasn't anything special about his house.
"Never mind." Soda stood up and walked into the kitchen. "He's spacing out again Darrel."
"Is he high?" Two-bit replied, as Johnny heard the familiar click of another beer being opened.
"No, but you probably are." Dally said as he sat at the table with Johnny.
He propped his feet up on the table.
"Wanna hear about this chick I saw at the drive-in last week?" He said as Ponyboy joined them at the table.
"Why do you call girls chicks?" He said, sipping his cup of orange juice.
"Cause chickens are meant to fu-"
He was cut off by Darrel slapping the back of his head. Dally quickly turned around. "What the hell man!" He said as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Don't say that, especially around Pony."
Darrel replied, slipping his work shoes on.
"If I come back" he continued "and find that girl half naked on the couch I will literally let the hobos downtown roast you alive." Then he rushed off to his truck, clearly late for work.
"Anyways, so this red-haired girl is working at the concession stand snd she has the brightest green eyes I've seen, right?" Dally began, acting like an old man telling their grandchildren how he met his wife.
"So she was pretty?" Pony said, completely invested at the idea of a new friend joining the gang.
"Beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Ok, so I'm flirting with her and all then I ask her if she wants to join the gang and get this.."
He took a sip of cola for a dramatic effect.
"She's a Soc." Dally said, grinning as though they Soc's wouldn't beat their ass if they found out.
Soda and two-bit came barreling in.
"You tried to hook up with a Soc!?" Two-Bit practically screamed.
"Bit louder, the neighbors can barely hear you." Dally said. He was obviously pissed at how loud Two-Bit was being. It was enough to give him a headache.
Johnny had heard enough and stood up.
"I gotta go.." His voice barely above a whisper as he exited the Curtis household.