Susan Hinton - The Outsiders

Something flickered behind Darry’s eyes and then they were ice again. “Hello, Paul.”

I heard Soda give a kind of squeak and I realized that the blond was Paul Holden. He had been the best halfback on Darry’s football team at high school and he and Darry used to buddy it around all the time. He must be a junior in college by now, I thought. He was looking at Darry with an expression I couldn’t quite place, but disliked. Contempt? Pity? Hate? All three? Why? Because Darry was standing there representing all of us, and maybe Paul felt only contempt and pity and hate for greasers? Darry hadn’t moved a muscle or changed expression, but you could see he hated Paul now. It wasn’t only jealousy — Darry had a right to be jealous; he was ashamed to be on our side, ashamed to be seen with the Brumly boys, Shepard’s gang, maybe even us. Nobody realized it but me and Soda. It didn’t matter to anyone but me and Soda.

That’s stupid, I thought swiftly, they’ve both come here to fight and they’re both supposed to be smarter than that. What difference does the side make?

Then Paul said, “I’ll take you,” and something like a smile crossed Darry’s face. I knew Darry had thought he could take Paul any time. But that was two or three years ago. What if Paul was better now? I swallowed. Neither one of my brothers had ever been beaten in a fight, but I wasn’t exactly itching for someone to break the record.

They moved in a circle under the light, counterclockwise, eyeing each other, sizing each other up, maybe remembering old faults and wondering if they were still there. The rest of us waited with mounting tension. I was reminded of Jack London’s books — you know, where the wolf pack waits in silence for one of two members to go down in a fight. But it was different here. The moment either one swung a punch, the rumble would be on.

The silence grew heavier, and I could hear the harsh heavy breathing of the boys around me. Still Darry and the Soc walked slowly in a circle. Even I could feel their hatred. They used to be buddies, I thought, they used to be friends, and now they hate each other because one has to work for a living and the other comes from the West Side. They shouldn’t hate each other… I don’t hate the Socs any more… they shouldn’t hate…

“Hold up!” a familiar voice yelled. “Hold it!” Darry turned to see who it was, and Paul swung — a hard right to the jaw that would have felled anyone but Darry. The rumble was on. Dallas Winston ran to join us.

I couldn’t find a Soc my size, so I took the next-best size and jumped on him. Dallas was right beside me, already on top of someone.

“I thought you were in the hospital,” I yelled as the Soc knocked me to the ground and I rolled to avoid getting kicked.

“I was.” Dally was having a hard time because his left arm was still in bad shape. “I ain’t now.”

“How?” I managed to ask as the Soc I was fighting leaped on me and we rolled near Dally.

“Talked the nurse into it with Two-Bit’s switch. Don’t you know a rumble ain’t a rumble unless I’m in it?”

I couldn’t answer because the Soc, who was heavier than I took him for, had me pinned and was slugging the sense out of me. I thought dizzily that he was going to knock some of my teeth loose or break my nose or something, and I knew I didn’t have a chance. But Darry was keeping an eye out for me; he caught that guy by the shoulder and half lifted him up before knocking him three feet with a sledge-hammer blow. I decided it would be fair for me to help Dally since he could use only one arm.

They were slugging it out, but Dallas was getting the worst of it, so I jumped on his Soc’s back, pulling his hair and pounding him. He reached back and caught me by the neck and threw me over his head to the ground. Tim Shepard, who was fighting two at once, accidentally stepped on me, knocking my breath out. I was up again as soon as I got my wind, and jumped right back on the Soc, trying my best to strangle him. While he was prying my fingers loose, Dally knocked him backward, so that all three of us rolled on the ground, gasping, cussing, and punching.

Somebody kicked me hard in the ribs and I yelped in spite of myself. Some Soc had knocked out one of our bunch and was kicking me as hard as he could. But I had both arms wrapped around the other Soc’s neck and refused to let go. Dally was slugging him, and I hung on desperately, although that other Soc was kicking me and you’d better believe it hurt. Finally he kicked me in the head so hard it stunned me, and I lay limp, trying to clear my mind and keep from blacking out. I could hear the racket, but only dimly through the buzzing in my ears. Numerous bruises along my back and on my face were throbbing, but I felt detached from the pain, as if it wasn’t really me feeling it.

“They’re running!” I heard a voice yell joyfully. “Look at the dirty — run!”

It seemed to me that the voice belonged to Two-Bit, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to sit up, and saw that the Socs were getting into their cars and leaving. Tim Shepard was swearing blue and green because his nose was broken again, and the leader of the Brumly boys was working over one of his own men because he had broken the rules and used a piece of pipe in the fighting. Steve lay doubled up and groaning about ten feet from me. We found out later he had three broken ribs. Sodapop was beside him, talking in a low steady voice. I did a double take when I saw Two-Bit — blood was streaming down one side of his face and one hand was busted wide open; but he was grinning happily because the Socs were running.

“We won,” Darry announced in a tired voice. He was going to have a black eye and there was a cut across his forehead. “We beat the Socs.”

Dally stood beside me quietly for a minute, trying to grasp the fact that we had really beaten the Socs. Then, grabbing my shirt, he hauled me to my feet. “Come on!” He half dragged me down the street. “We’re goin’ to see Johnny.”

I tried to run but stumbled, and Dally impatiently shoved me along. “Hurry! He was gettin’ worse when I left. He wants to see you.”

I don’t know how Dallas could travel so fast and hard after being knocked around and having his sore arm hurt some more, but I tried to keep up with him. Track wasn’t ever like the running I did that night. I was still dizzy and had only a dim realization of where I was going and why.

Dally had Buck Merril’s T-bird parked in front of our house, and we hopped into it. I sat tight as Dally roared the car down the street. We were on Tenth when a siren came on behind us and I saw the reflection of the red light flashing in the windshield.

“Look sick,” Dally commanded. “I’ll say I’m taking you to the hospital, which’ll be truth enough.”

I leaned against the cold glass of the window and tried to look sick, which wasn’t too hard, feeling the way I did right then.

The policeman looked disgusted. “All right, buddy, where’s the fire?”

“The kid”—Dally jerked a thumb toward me—“he fell over on his motorcycle and I’m takin’ him to the hospital.”

I groaned, and it wasn’t all fake-out. I guess I looked pretty bad, too, being cut and bruised like I was.

The fuzz changed his tone. “Is he real bad? Do you need an escort?”

“How would I know if he’s bad or not? I ain’t no doc. Yeah, we could use an escort.” And as the policeman got back into his car I heard Dally hiss, “Sucker!”

With the siren ahead of us, we made record time getting to the hospital. All the way there Dally kept talking and talking about something, but I was too dizzy to make most of it out.

“I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin’ Johnny to stay outa trouble, for not wantin’ him to get hard. If he’d been like me he’d never have been in this mess. If he’d got smart like me he’d never have run into that church. That’s what you get for helpin’ people. Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble…. You’d better wise up, Pony… you get tough like me and you don’t get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin’ can touch you…”