Chapter Text
When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie theater, 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. I have light-brown, almost red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys with green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than most boys, and they sure do make it known they don’t dig it. Boys at school, and sometimes even the girls, called me a “faggot” and they haven’t ever really gotten in trouble though. Teachers always side with Socs, an abbreviation for Socials, rich kids who beat up people like me, over us Greasers.
Usually I don’t walk home alone. I always had Johnny or Two-Bit, my only friends that were willing to watch movies with me, to walk with. But I was alone. I silently cursed myself for being so stubborn because I hate being alone. My oldest brother, Darrel, we call him Darry, had tried to make me bring along someone, but I refused. I hate watching movies with someone. It's like a person reading a book over your shoulders and it makes me uncomfortable. I also have another brother, Sodapop. He's sixteen-going-on-seventeen and Darry is twenty one. I love Sodapop more than I loved anyone, even mom and dad, but they weren’t around anymore. They were killed in a car accident when I was younger, so Darry has been working two jobs to keep me and Soda fed and a roof over our heads. Soda works too. He works at the DX gas station. He even dropped out of high school to work full time.
I soon noticed a shiny, red, Corvair trailing behind me. It must’ve been obvious I was scared because as soon as I started to walk a little faster, five socs got out of the car. I was sweating something fierce, although I was cold. “Hey grease, need a haircut?” One of the socs sneered. I stared at them for a few seconds before whirling around and ran for it. I’m on the track team, but I was panicking and that made me lose my stamina quickly. A soc with a bunch of rings tackled me to the ground. I remembered Soda telling me about how some guy had beat Johnny good, at night too so no one was awake to help him. It was only until morning Soda drove past the football field on his way to work and spotted him somehow. I was real mad when I realized this guy had beat Johnny. Johnny was a good kid, he never drank, stole, or even tried to pick fights with anyone. He had it rough at home so it took a lot to make him cry, but from what I heard he was a mess. He’s been extremely paranoid ever since and just thinking about it makes my chest ache. This soc was heavy but I managed to wiggled one of my arms out from under his weight and slugged him right in the nose. I regretted it quickly though because he slammed his ringed fist into my face, which hurt real bad, and his other friends grabbed my wrists and held my legs down. “Yer gonna regret that, grease!” He hissed and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open and holding the cold steel against my neck. I closed my eyes tightly then all the sudden I heard footsteps, then the weight seemingly disappeared off me. I sat up and saw Darry, Soda, and Steve chasing the socs away. Soda stayed behind while the others made sure they wouldn’t come back. I flinched as I heard the Corvairs screech as they sped off. “Ponyboy, are you alright?!” Soda gasped and held me close to his chest. I murmured something I myself couldn’t understand. “You’re bleeding!” Soda exclaimed. “I’m fine, stop squeezing me so tightly.” I barked, even though it felt comforting being held by Soda. I think I was just embarrassed I let some socs hurt me, let alone cut me. I suddenly felt hot tears streaming from my eyes and my breath was quivery. “I wanna go home…” I cried. “Shhh.. We’re gonna take you home, we’ll patch you up too.. Golly, they cut you real good, huh?” Soda said in a sadish-playful tone as if he was trying to cheer me up. It didn’t really work. Darry and Steve came back, they were looming over me. “Next time, take someone with you. This wouldn’t have happened if you used your brain!” Darry lectured me. He always did. I clenched my fists tightly as I listened to his words. He didn’t even care that I was hurt.
Steve was Soda’s best friend since grade school. They liked a lot of the same stuff so they got along well, but Steve didn’t dig me one bit. He looked mad that they had to walk me home. I felt guilty. Maybe him, Soda, and Darry were about to do something fun, saw me, and ruined their fun. I hated being a burden, which I often was. “I’m sorry..” I sighed as Soda opened the for me. I laid on the couch and Soda got alcohol wipes and a cloth to hold over my throat, which he also used to clean my nosebleed. “Aw geez, it’s alright, Ponyboy..” Soda said softly, he must’ve known I was bummed about probably ruining whatever they were doing before (notice how I said probably? I might be sweatin’ over nothing, I worry like that a lot). I took at least a two hour nap, and as soon as I woke up I took a handful of Aspirins to try and tame my head splitting headache. Darry thinks I only take one or two, but honestly I usually take five or six.