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Chapter Text

As I walk home with Two-Bit, I notice he is more anxious to get to my house than usual. He practically drags me along, effectively annoying the hell outta me.

"Where's the fire, Two-Bit", I finally ask.

"Oh, you'll see", he replies, making me wonder if I oughta go home or not.

The weirdness continues as we enter my house. Darry and Soda are actually already there at 4, when they usually work til at least 6, sitting on the couch, with Steve sprawled out on the floor like a beached whale. (Read that line in a book, and Steve reminds me of it. A lot.)

"Uhhhh, why are you all here so early….?"

Darry clears his throat and answers, " Well, we are going to do something different tonight, Ponyboy."

"And that something IS?" I replied, losing my temper a bit.

They all look at the floor a long minute before Soda responds, "Uhhh... We're gonna read your book, Pone?"

Soda's POV

"Excuse me, but we're doing WHAT?!" Pony shouted. I had to laugh at the look on my baby brother's face. As if we would NOT read his story!

"We happen to be extremely curious about your side of this story, Ponyboy." Steve said with a sneer. I frowned, I sometimes believe my best bud hates my little bro….

Darry, who had come up with this plan, said, "Alright, enough. Pony, you might as well get comfortable, we are gonna read this together, whether you like it or not". Dar's tone forbade argument, so Pony mumbled to himself about how ridiculous this was as he plopped down next to Two-Bit on the floor.

"Who wants to start?' Darry asked. When nobody answered, he said, "Fine, you chickens, I'll start." He glanced up at Pony to see his reaction. My baby brother was looking at his sneakers, probably wishing he didn't have to be here, but he needed help, so we were gonna help him. Even if he didn't like it.

"Chapter 1 …."

WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman- he looks tough and I don't- but I guess my own looks aren't so bad.

Darry and I frowned. Since when did Pony feel that way?

"Pony, you look both tough and tuff." I said with a smile.

"Sure" Pony answered, but he obviously thought I was wrong.

I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair.

"Damn straight. This new cut, while cleaner, makes you look like, as the French would say, 'a bloody pansy'" Two-Bit said as he ran his fingers through the grease bath that was his hair.

"'Bloody' is a British word, nimrod" Steve said rolling his eyes as he grabbed his beer can.

"May I?" Dar asked, and they shut up.

I had a long walk home and no company, but I usually lone it anyway, for no reason except that I like to watch movies undisturbed so I can get into them and live them with the actors. When I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable, like having someone read your book over your shoulder. I'm different that way. I mean, my second -oldest brother, Soda, who is sixteen-going-on-seventeen, never cracks a book at all, and my oldest brother, Darrel, who we call Darry, works too long and hard to be interested in a story or drawing a picture, so I'm not like them. And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do. For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. So I loned it.

Darry sighed. "You better know better than to lone it from now on, little buddy", he stated firmly. Pony nodded, "I know, Dar."

Soda tries to understand, at least, which is more than Darry does. But then, Soda is different from anybody; he understands everything, almost. Like he's never hollering at me all the time the way Darry is, or treating me as if I was six instead of fourteen. I love Soda more than I've ever loved anyone, even Mom and Dad. He's always happy-go-lucky and grinning, while Darry's hard and firm and rarely grins at all. But then, Darry's gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast.

"Hey, thanks, Pony, I love you too." I was glad he felt the same way I did. I don't know what I'd do without my Pony, cuz trust me, I've come close enough to finding out. I love Darry, but Pony is my best friend and the person I care about most in the world.

Darry, on the other hand, said "Pone, you really feel this way?" "Not anymore", Pony said bluntly, "I understand now, Dar." The two smiled at each other, they really did dig each other now.

"Well, in that case let's continue" Dar grinned.

Chapter Text

Darry's POV

Sodapop'll never grow up at all. I don't know which way's the best. I'll find out one of these days.

Anyway, I went on walking home, thinking about the movie, and then suddenly wishing I had some company. Greasers can't walk alone too much or they'll get jumped, or someone will come by and scream "Greaser!" at them, which doesn't make you feel too hot, if you know what I mean. We get jumped by the Socs. I'm not sure how you spell it, but it's the abbreviation for the Socials, the jet set, the West-side rich kids. It's like the term "greaser," which is used to class all us boys on the East Side.

"Greasers=cool, Socies=drools!" Two-Bit shouted.

"Two-Bit Matthews, that is the only equation you've ever done in your life, isn't it?" Steve remarked as he, Soda, and even Pony laughed. I smiled at my brothers, cuz blood or not, that's what all these boys were to me. I continued.

We're poorer than the Socs and the middle class. I reckon we're wilder, too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and wreck houses and throw beer blasts for kicks, and get editorials in the paper for being a public disgrace one day and an asset to society the next. Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and drive old souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while. I don't mean I do things like that. Darry would kill me if I got into trouble with the police.

Got that right, I thought to myself. But it was fine, Pony was a good kid.

Since Mom and Dad were killed in an auto wreck, the three of us get to stay together only as long as we behave. So Soda and I stay out of trouble as much as we can, and we're careful not to get caught when we can't. I only mean that most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in blue jeans and T-shirts, or leave our shirttails out and wear leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not saying that either Socs or greasers are better; that's just the way things are.

"It shouldn't be the way things are." Silent agreement around the room.

I could have waited to go to the movies until Darry or Sodapop got off work. They would have gone with me, or driven me there, or walked along, although Soda just can't sit still long enough to enjoy a movie and they bore Darry to death. Darry thinks his life is enough without inspecting other people's. Or I could have gotten one of the gang to come along, one of the four boys Darry and Soda and I have grown up with and consider family. We're almost as close as brothers; when you grow up in a tight-knit neighborhood like ours you get to know each other real well. If I had thought about it, I could have called Darry and he would have come by on his way home and picked me up, or Two-Bit Mathews- one of our gang- would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but sometimes I just don't use my head. It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head. Besides, I like walking.

"Pony, next time, PLEASE do me a favor and call me." I moaned. I knew what came next.

I about decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I spotted that red Corvair trailing me. I was almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking a little faster. I had never been jumped, but I had seen Johnny after four Socs got hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Johnny was scared of his own shadow after that. Johnny was sixteen then.

The gang and I got real tense. We all hated reliving this.

I knew it wasn't any use though- the fast walking, I mean- even before the Corvair pulled up beside me and five Socs got out. I got pretty scared- I'm kind of small for fourteen even though I have a good build, and those guys were bigger than me. I automatically hitched my thumbs in my jeans and slouched, wondering if I could get away if I made a break for it. I remembered Johnny- his face all cut up and bruised, and I remembered how he had cried when we found him, half-conscious, in the comer lot. Johnny had it awful rough at home- it took a lot to make him cry.

Two-Bit, Soda, Steve, Pony, and I all made a somber face. Johnny….

I was sweating something fierce, although I was cold. I could feel my palms getting clammy and the perspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm real scared. I glanced around for a pop bottle or a stick or something- Steve Randle, Soda's best buddy, had once held off four guys with a busted pop bottle- but there was nothing. So I stood there like a bump on a log while they surrounded me. I don't use my head. They walked around slowly, silently, smiling.

This was killing me. Despite knowing how this played out, the thought of my baby brother surrounded by Socs, scared with no way out…. I shuddered. The rest of the gang was growing tenser.

"Hey, grease," one said in an over-friendly voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser. We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off."

We all started growling. Damn Socs….

He had on a madras shirt. I can still see it. Blue madras. One of them laughed, then cussed me out in a low voice. I couldn't think of anything to say. There just isn't a whole lot you can say while waiting to get mugged, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Need a haircut, greaser?" The medium-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped the blade open.

I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that knife. Of course I backed right into one of them. They had me down in a second. They had my arms and legs pinned down and one of them was sitting on my chest with his knees on my elbows, and if you don't think that hurts, you're crazy. I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything. I was scared so bad I was wishing I would.

"NEVER THINK LIKE THAT, PONY!" Soda shouted, running up to Pony and hugging him. It was kinda cute.

"Sorry, Soda" Pony mumbled, obviously embarrassed.

I fought to get loose, and almost did for a second; then they tightened up on me and the one on my chest slugged me a couple of times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A blade was held against my throat.

"How'd you like that haircut to begin just below the chin?"

Soda whimpered, still hugging Pony tight. "Come on Soda", Pony comforted, "You'll like this next part."

It occurred to me then that they could kill me. I went wild. I started screaming for Soda, Darry, anyone. Someone put his hand over my mouth, and I bit it as hard as I could, tasting the blood running through my teeth. I heard a muttered curse and got slugged again, and they were stuffing a handkerchief in my mouth. One of them kept saying, "Shut him up, for Pete's sake, shut him up!"

"I'll like this next part? That was worse!" Soda groaned. Two-Bit and Steve hadn't stopped growling, the thought of Ponyboy like that was almost unbearable.

"Must be the next paragraph" Pony mumbled.

Then there were shouts and the pounding of feet, and the Socs jumped up and left me lying there, gasping. I lay there and wondered what in the world was happening- people were jumping over me and running by me and I was too dazed to figure it out.

"The super gang to the rescue!" Two-Bit screamed as he fist-pumped Steve. Pony laughed and Soda relaxed and smiled. I, too, was smiling. OF COURSE we saved Pony, when we had heard his screaming, we all went ballistic and ran to trash the ones hurting our brother.

Then someone had me under the armpits and was hauling me to my feet. It was Darry."Are you all right, Ponyboy?" He was shaking me and I wished he'd stop. I was dizzy enough anyway. I could tell it was Darry though- partly because of the voice and partly because Darry's always rough with me without meaning to be.

'Sorry, Pony, tell me next time"

"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay."

"Oh, right." I forgot about that.

He stopped instantly. "I'm sorry." He wasn't really. Yes I was, I thought.

Darry isn't ever sorry for anything he does. It seems funny to me that he should look just exactly like my father and act exactly the opposite from him. My father was only forty when he died and he looked twenty-five and a lot of people thought Darry and Dad were brothers instead of father and son. But they only looked alike- my father was never rough with anyone without meaning to be.

I was completely blown back by this. I didn't realize he had felt this way….

Darry is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back- just like Dad's- but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold. He doesn't understand anything that is not plain hard fact. But he uses his head.

I sat down again, rubbing my cheek where I'd been slugged the most.

Darry jammed his fists in his pockets. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"

They did. I was smarting and aching and my chest was sore and I was so nervous my hands were shaking and I wanted to start bawling, but you just don't say that to Darry.

"What?!" I squeaked incredulously. Total silence.

"I'm okay."

Sodapop came loping back. By then I had figured that all the noise I had heard was the gang coming to rescue me. He dropped down beside me, examining my head.

"You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?"

I only looked at him blankly. "I did?"

He pulled out a handkerchief, wet the end of it with his tongue, and pressed it gently against the side of my head. "You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

"I am?"

"Look!" He showed me the handkerchief, reddened as if by magic. "Did they pull a blade on you?"

I remembered the voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" The blade must have slipped while he was trying to shut me up. "Yeah."

Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry- Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time. He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back- long and silky and straight- and in the summer the sun bleaches it to a shining wheat gold. His eyes are dark brown- lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes that can be gentle and sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next. He has Dad's eyes, but Soda is one of a kind. He can get drunk in a drag race or dancing without ever getting near alcohol. In our neighborhood it's rare to find a kid who doesn't drink once in a while. But Soda never touches a drop- he doesn't need to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.

Wow, Pony was real observant. He got Soda down to a T.

He looked at me more closely. I looked away hurriedly, because, if you want to know the truth, I was starting to bawl. I knew I was as white as I felt and I was shaking like a leaf.

Soda just put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."

"I know," I said, but the ground began to blur and I felt hot tears running down my cheeks. I brushed them away impatiently. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all." I drew a quivering breath and quit crying. You just don't cry in front of Darry. Not unless you're hurt like Johnny had been that day we found him in the vacant lot. Compared to Johnny I wasn't hurt at all.

I sighed. "Pony, you were JUMPED AND CUT. What happened to Johnny may have been horrible, but you were hurting, and you NEVER have to hide that from me. You can always cry in front of me if you need to." I was shaking, and close to tears myself.

Then, suddenly, Pony got up and HUGGED me. "Dar, I SWEAR, I know that now. I'm sorry, but as this goes on, you'll see how that changes." He smiled at me, and I smiled back. Good, I thought.

Soda rubbed my hair. "You're an okay kid, Pony."

I had to grin at him- Soda can make you grin no matter what. I guess it's because he's always grinning so much himself. "You're crazy, Soda, out of your mind."

Darry looked as if he'd like to knock our heads together. "You're both nuts."

"And you always will be", I remarked, earning me two pillows to the face.

Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit. "It seems to run in this family."

Darry stared at him for a second, then cracked a grin. Sodapop isn't afraid of him like everyone else and enjoys teasing him. I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly; but for some reason, Darry seems to like being teased by Soda.

"Too bad for you, I aint afraid of you anymore", Pony said cockily. I looked at him a minute… then cracked a grin. I liked his teasing, too.

Two-Bit's POV

Our gang had chased the Socs to their car and heaved rocks at them. They came running toward us now- four lean, hard guys. They were all as tough as nails and looked it. l had grown up with them, and they accepted me, even though I was younger, because I was Darry and Soda's kid brother and I kept my mouth shut good.

" You USED to keep your mouth shut good", Steve snapped "Now you talk more than Soda." Soda, Darry, and I glared at him. Man, Steve really needs to stop bugging the kid. Pony was going through a tough spot since our two buddies died, and Steve keeps acting like it was HIS fault.

"Maybe you oughta keep YOUR mouth shut good, Randle" I threw at him, and Pony snickered. Glad I could make the kid laugh, and Steve backed down.

Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was tacky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school. Steve's specialty was cars. He could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood, but he also knew cars upside-down and backward, and he could drive anything on wheels. He and Soda worked at the same gas station- Steve part time and Soda full time- and their station got more customers than any other in town. Whether that was because Steve was so good with cars or because Soda attracted girls like honey draws flies, I couldn't tell you. I liked Steve only because he was Soda's best friend. He didn't like me- he thought I was a tag-along and a kid; Soda always took me with them when they went places if they weren't taking girls, and that bugged Steve. It wasn't my fault; Soda always asked me; I didn't ask him. Soda doesn't think I'm a kid.

"No, I don't" Soda smiled affectionately at his brother. "And Steve, if you really are my best friend, you'll lay off my kid brother." "Sorry, Soda" Steve said, trying to keep the peace. "By the way Pony, no one would come to see Soda's mug, so our good business is because of me." That's when Soda threw his bottle at Steve, then wrestled him to the floor. One look from Darry got those two back in their seats, though.

Two-Bit Mathews was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. He was about six feet tall, stocky in build, and very proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. He had gray eyes and a wide grin, and he couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life. You couldn't shut up that guy; he always had to get his two-bits worth in. Hence his name. Even his teachers forgot his real name was Keith, and we hardly remembered he had one.

"Clearly, the mention of my 'real name' shows you remember it" I got a pillow to the gut.

Life was one big joke to Two-Bit. He was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade (which he couldn't have acquired without his first talent), and he was always smarting off to the cops. He really couldn't help it. Everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dull lives. (That's the way he explained it to me.) He liked fights, blondes, and for some unfathomable reason, school. He was still a junior at eighteen and a half and he never learned anything. He just went for kicks. I liked him real well because he kept us laughing at ourselves as well as at other things. He reminded me of Will Rogers- maybe it was the grin.

"Hey! I happen to enjoy my education" "You're educated?" "Get your face over here Ponyboy!"

Darry grabbed me as I lept towards Pony, and I sat down cuz you don't mess with Darry.

If I had to pick the real character of the gang, it would be Dallas Winston- Dally.

Pony got up and walked out of the tense room. Soda got up to follow him, but Dar said "Give him a minute" and he relunctantly sat down.

I used to like to draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood, for then I could get his personality down in a few lines. He had an elfish face, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. His hair was almost white it was so blond, and he didn't like haircuts, or hair oil either, so it fell over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts and curled behind his ears and along the nape of his neck. His eyes were blue, blazing ice, cold with a hatred of the whole world. Dally had spent three years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten. He was tougher than the rest of us- tougher, colder, meaner. The shade of difference that separates a greaser from a hood wasn't present in Dally. He was as wild as the boys in the downtown outfits, like Tim Shepard's gang.

In New York, Dally blew off steam in gang fights, but here, organized gangs are rarities- there are just small bunches of friends who stick together, and the warfare is between the social classes. A rumble, when it's called, is usually born of a grudge fight, and the opponents just happen to bring their friends along. Oh, there are a few named gangs around, like the River Kings and the Tiber Street Tigers, but here in the Southwest there's no gang rivalry. So Dally, even though he could get into a good fight sometimes, had no specific thing to hate. No rival gang. Only Socs. And you can't win against them no matter how hard you try, because they've got all the breaks and even whipping them isn't going to change that fact. Maybe that was why Dallas was so bitter.

Bitter didn't cut it, I thought, pained by the dead on description of my dead buddy.

He had quite a reputation. They have a file on him down at the police station. He had been arrested, he got drunk, he rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, rolled drunks, jumped small kids- he did everything. I didn't like him, but he was smart and you had to respect him.

"See, Steve, he prefers DALLY to you." but no one responded to me.

Johnny Cade was last and least. If you can picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, you'll have Johnny. He was the youngest, next to me, smaller than the rest, with a slight build. He had big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long that it fell in shaggy bangs across his forehead. He had a nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, and that beating he got from the Socs didn't help matters. He was the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother. His father was always beating him up, and his mother ignored him, except when she was hacked off at something, and then you could hear her yelling at him clear down at our house. I think he hated that worse than getting whipped. He would have run away a million times if we hadn't been there. If it hadn't been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are.

" I hate how right he is" Steve mumbled. "You aint kiddin" Soda agreed.

I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Didya catch 'em?"

"Nup. They got away this time, the dirty..." Two-Bit went on cheerfully, calling the Socs every name he could think of or make up.

"I NEVER make up my insults" and got thrown at with a pillow, a can, and the TV remote.

"The kid's okay?"

"I'm okay." I tried to think of something to say. I'm usually pretty quiet around people, even the gang. I changed the subject. "I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally."

"Good behavior. Got off early." Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. Everyone sat down to have a smoke and relax. A smoke always lessens the tension. I had quit trembling and my color was back. The cigarette was calming me down. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid."

I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?"

Two-Bit nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."

Tough and tuff are two different words. Tough is the same as rough; tuff means cool, sharp- like a tuff-looking Mustang or a tuff record. In our neighborhood both are compliments.

"And we are all both" Soda said. Steve and I fist pumped him and Darry rolled his eyes.

Steve flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Leave it to good old Steve to bring up something like that.

"Steve, you set my little brother on fire with those ashes, and I'll skin you slowly and painfully" "Sorry, Dar" "It's Pony you oughta apologize to"

"I was comin' home from the movies. I didn't think..."

"You don't ever think," Darry broke in, "not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."

"Maybe I'm not the only one who needs to apologize" Darry tensed, looking like he agreed. Soda patted his shoulder to comfort him.

I just stared at the hole in the toe of my tennis shoe. Me and Darry just didn't dig each other. I never could please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I had carried one. If I brought home B's, he wanted A's, and if I got A's, he wanted to make sure they stayed A's. If I was playing football, I should be in studying, and if I was reading, I should be out playing football. He never hollered at Sodapop- not even when Soda dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding. He just hollered at me.

"That's not true! He just didn't hear me holler at Soda!" "Unfortunately, I did" "Soda.."

Soda was glaring at him. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons."

"Team Soda!" I called out. I coulda sworn I heard laughter from down the hall….

Soda always takes up for me.

Darry said impatiently, "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you- kid brother." But he laid off me. He always does when Sodapop tells him to. Most of the time.

"Hey, Pony, you think this is so funny, why not come back out and join us?" And Pony walked back in with a smile on his face. "Alright, Dar." He sat in the empty seat between Soda and Darry.

"Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy," Two-Bit said. "Any of us will."

"Speakin' of movies"- Dally yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt- "I'm walkin' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?"

Steve shook his head. "Me and Soda are pickin' up Evie and Sandy for the game."

He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.

"STEVE!" Soda, Darry, and I shouted. But Steve was lookin at Pony. "Geez, kid, I didn't realize I was THAT bad to ya!" "Well, you are" "Wow. Sorry, kid, you one of the gang, I really don't hate you. I'll try to be better."

That shocked us all, and Pony stammered, "I-i-it's ok, Steve. I don't really hate you either." Soda smiled a mile long as Steve and Pony fist pumped.

Darry sighed, just like I knew he would. Darry never had time to do anything anymore. "I'm working tomorrow night."

Dally looked at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you and Pony wanta come?"

"Me and Johnny'll come," I said. I knew Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced to. "Okay, Darry?"

"Yeah, since it ain't a school night." Darry was real good about letting me go places on the weekends. On school nights I could hardly leave the house.

"I was plannin' on getting boozed up tomorrow night," Two-Bit said. "If I don't, I'll walk over and find y'all."

Steve was looking at Dally's hand. His ring, which he had rolled a drunk senior to get, was back on his finger. "You break up with Sylvia again?"

"Yeah, and this time it's for good. That little broad was two-timin' me again while I was in jail."

I thought of Sylvia and Evie and Sandy and Two-Bit's many blondes. They were the only kind of girls that would look at us, I thought. Tough, loud girls who wore too much eye makeup and giggled and swore too much. I liked Soda's girl Sandy just fine, though.

Soda gulped. That two-timing little…

Her hair was natural blond and her laugh was soft, like her china-blue eyes. She didn't have a real good home or anything and was our kind- greaser- but she was a real nice girl. Still, lots of times I wondered what other girls were like. The girls who were bright-eyed and had their dresses a decent length and acted as if they'd like to spit on us if given a chance. Some were afraid of us, and remembering Dallas Winston, I didn't blame them. But most looked at us like we were dirt- gave us the same kind of look that the Socs did when they came by in their Mustangs and Corvairs and yelled "Grease!" at us. I wondered about them. The girls, I mean... Did they cry when their boys were arrested, like Evie did when Steve got hauled in, or did they run out on them the way Sylvia did Dallas? But maybe their boys didn't get arrested or beaten up or busted up in rodeos.

"Au contraire, Pony, they do. They just hide it behind all that money."

I was still thinking about it while I was doing my homework that night. I had to read Great Expectations for English, and that kid Pip, he reminded me of us- the way he felt marked lousy because he wasn't a gentleman or anything, and the way that girl kept looking down on him. That happened to me once. One time in biology I had to dissect a worm, and the razor wouldn't cut, so I used my switchblade. The minute I flicked it out- I forgot what I was doing or I would never have done it- this girl right beside me kind of gasped, and said, "They are right. You are a hood." That didn't make me feel so hot. These were a lot of Socs in that class- I get put into A classes because I'm supposed to be smart- and most of them thought it was pretty funny. I didn't, though. She was a cute girl. She looked real good in yellow.

"A.) You ARE smart and B.) I'm sorry, Pony, why didn't you tell me about that" Soda looked real concerned. "It's not important" Pony shrugged. "To me, you ARE I can help you if you need girl advice, kiddo." "I know Soda." Awwww, I thought, they are so cute. As if reading my mind, Soda took a pillow that was thrown at me and threw it again. "I know that look on your face, Matthews. Keep your mouth shut."

We deserve a lot of our trouble, I thought. Dallas deserves everything he gets, and should get worse, if you want the truth. And Two-Bit- he doesn't really want or need half the things he swipes from stores. He just thinks it's fun to swipe everything that isn't nailed down. I can understand why Sodapop and Steve get into drag races and fights so much, though- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with no way to blow it off.

"Thanks for the defense, Pon" Steve and Soda said in unison. "Hey, I need to eat." I smirked. "Try BUYING it once in a while, I dare you." While I fumed, everyone else laughed.

"Rub harder, Soda," I heard Darry mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep."

"Oooohhhh, So…" I was cut off by Soda choking me. "Soda, please, I don't want you picked up for murder." "Fine, Pone."

I looked through the door. Sodapop was giving Darry a back-rub. Darry is always pulling muscles; he roofs houses and he's always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder. I knew Soda would put him to sleep, because Soda can put about anyone out when he sets his head to it. He thought Darry worked too hard anyway. I did, too.

"Everyone does" Pony said to Darry. "Gotta keep food on the table" "How you gonna manage that with a busted back?" "I'm Superman, I can handle anything" Pony and Soda bothed cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed their arms over their chests. "Darrel…" "Ponyboy and Sodapop…"

Darry didn't deserve to work like an old man when he was only twenty. He had been a real popular guy in school; he was captain of the football team and he had been voted Boy of the Year. But we just didn't have the money for him to go to college, even with the athletic scholarship he won. And now he didn't have time between jobs to even think about college. So he never went anywhere and never did anything anymore, except work out at gyms and go skiing with some old friends of his sometimes.

"Heck, Dar, aint your muscles already bigger than my football?" "Shut it, Matthews"

I rubbed my cheek where it had turned purple. I had looked in the mirror, and it did make me look tough. But Darry had made me put a Band-Aid on the cut.

I remembered how awful Johnny had looked when he got beaten up. I had just as much right to use the streets as the Socs did, and Johnny had never hurt them. Why did the Socs hate us so much? We left them alone. I nearly went to sleep over my homework trying to figure it out.

Sodapop, who had jumped into bed by this time, yelled sleepily for me to turn off the light and get to bed. When I finished the chapter I was on, I did.

Lying beside Soda, staring at the wall, I kept remem bering the faces of the Socs as they surrounded me, that blue madras shirt the blond was wearing, and I could still hear a thick voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" I shivered.

"You cold, Ponyboy?"

"A little;" I lied.

"You ever lie about being scared again…" "Sorry, Soda, but shivering IS technically like being cold."

Soda threw one arm across my neck. He mumbled something drowsily. "Listen, kiddo, when Darry hollers at you... he don't mean nothin'. He's just got more worries than somebody his age ought to. Don't take him serious... you dig, Pony? Don't let him bug you. He's really proud of you 'cause you're so brainy. It's just because you're the baby- I mean, he loves you a lot. Savvy?"

"Yea, Pony, you're just the baby" "Shut it, Matthews"

"That's my bro" Soda and Darry laughed.

"Sure," I said, trying for Soda's sake to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you dropped out?" I never have gotten over that. I could hardly stand it when he left school.

" 'Cause I'm dumb. The only things I was passing anyway were auto mechanics and gym."

"You're not dumb."

"Listen to Pony, he's right. You ain't dumb." Darry

"You're smarter than you give yourself credit for" Steve

"You're alright" Me.

"Yeah, I am. Shut up and I'll tell you something. Don't tell Darry, though."

Darry glanced at Soda and he blushed. "You gonna tell me or let me read it?" No response, so…

"Okay."

"I think I'm gonna marry Sandy. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything. I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Darry with the bills and stuff."

Darry frowned. "You told me that." "AFTER I told Pony." "That's just natural." "What's that's supposed to mean?" "That you tell Pony everything first." "I do…. Ok, I do."

"Tuff enough. Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Darry off my back."

"Don't be like that, kid. I told you he don't mean half of what he says..."

"You in love with Sandy? What's it like?"

"Hhhmmm." He sighed happily. "It's real nice."

In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. Then I sighed. I didn't quite get what he meant about Darry. Darry thought I was just another mouth to feed and somebody to holler at.

"I do not!"

Darry love me? I thought of those hard, pale eyes. Soda was wrong for once, I thought. Darry doesn't love anyone or anything, except maybe Soda.

Darry was shaking like a leaf now. "I love people." Pony looked down, ashamed tears running down his face.

I didn't hardly think of him as being human.

"He ain't human, he's Superman." "Shut it, Matthews" "K, Soda"

I don't care, I lied to myself, I don't care about him either. Soda's enough, and I'd have him until I got out of school. I don't care about Darry. But I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.

"Ok, Darry, WHY did Pony think all this of you?" Steve demanded. "Darry, seriously, you guys are brothers, I thought you were cool." Silence.

"Listen", Pony put in, "This is all stuff from THE PAST. Now I know Darry loves me, and all of us, but back then, he scared me. It was cuz he was just startin out, ya know? So lay off him." Steve and I stepped down, but I had a sinking feeling THIS story was gonna open our eyes to a different side to THE story.