Susan Hinton - The Outsiders

“You read a lot, don’t you, Ponyboy?” Cherry asked.

I was startled. “Yeah. Why?”

She kind of shrugged. “I could just tell. I’ll bet you watch sunsets, too.” She was quiet for a minute after I nodded. “I used to watch them, too, before I got so busy…”

I pictured that, or tried to. Maybe Cherry stood still and watched the sun set while she was supposed to be taking the garbage out. Stood there and watched and forgot everything else until her big brother screamed at her to hurry up. I shook my head. It seemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and the one I saw from the back steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset.

Marcia suddenly gasped. “Cherry, look what’s coming.”

We all looked and saw a blue Mustang coming down the street. Johnny made a small noise in his throat and when I looked at him he was white.

Marcia was shifting nervously. “What are we going to do?”

Cherry bit a fingernail. “Stand here,” she said. “There isn’t much else we can do.”

“Who is it?” Two-Bit asked. “The F.B.I.?”

“No,” Cherry said bleakly, “it’s Randy and Bob.”

“And,” Two-Bit added grimly, “a few other of the socially elite checkered-shirt set.”

“Your boyfriends?” Johnny’s voice was steady, but standing as close to him as I was, I could see he was trembling. I wondered why — Johnny was a nervous wreck, but he never was that jumpy.

Cherry started walking down the street. “Maybe they won’t see us. Act normal.”

“Who’s acting?” Two-Bit grinned. “I’m a natural normal.”

“Wish it was the other way around,” I muttered, and Two-Bit said, “Don’t get mouthy, Ponyboy.”

The Mustang passed us slowly and went right on by. Marcia sighed in relief. “That was close.”

Cherry turned to me. “Tell me about your oldest brother. You don’t talk much about him.”

I tried to think of something to say about Darry, and shrugged. “What’s to talk about? He’s big and handsome and likes to play football.”

“I mean, what’s he like? I feel like I know Soda from the way you talk about him; tell me about Darry.” And when I was silent she urged me on. “Is he wild and reckless like Soda? Dreamy, like you?”

My face got hot as I bit my lip. Darry… what was Darry like? “He’s…” I started to say he was a good ol’ guy but I couldn’t. I burst out bitterly: “He’s not like Sodapop at all and he sure ain’t like me. He’s hard as a rock and about as human. He’s got eyes exactly like frozen ice. He thinks I’m a pain in the neck. He likes Soda — everybody likes Soda — but he can’t stand me. I bet he wishes he could stick me in a home somewhere, and he’d do it, too, if Soda’d let him.”

Two-Bit and Johnny were staring at me now. “No…” Two-Bit said, dumfounded. “No, Ponyboy, that ain’t right… you got it wrong…”

“Gee,” Johnny said softly, “I thought you and Darry and Soda got along real well…”

“Well, we don’t,” I snapped, feeling silly. I knew my ears were red by the way they were burning, and I was thankful for the darkness. I felt stupid. Compared to Johnny’s home, mine was heaven. At least Darry didn’t get drunk and beat me up or run me out of the house, and I had Sodapop to talk things over with. That made me mad, I mean making a fool of myself in front of everyone. “An’ you can shut your trap, Johnny Cade, ’cause we all know you ain’t wanted at home, either. And you can’t blame them.”

Johnny’s eyes went round and he winced as though I’d belted him. Two-Bit slapped me a good one across the side of the head, and hard.

“Shut your mouth, kid. If you wasn’t Soda’s kid brother I’d beat the tar out of you. You know better than to talk to Johnny like that.” He put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “He didn’t mean it, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry,” I said miserably. Johnny was my buddy. “I was just mad.”

“It’s the truth,” Johnny said with a bleak grin. “I don’t care.”

“Shut up talkin’ like that,” Two-Bit said fiercely, messing up Johnny’s hair. “We couldn’t get along without you, so you can just shut up!”

“It ain’t fair!” I cried passionately. “It ain’t fair that we have all the rough breaks!” I didn’t know exactly what I meant, but I was thinking about Johnny’s father being a drunk and his mother a selfish slob, and Two-Bit’s mother being a barmaid to support him and his kid sister after their father ran out on them, and Dally — wild, cunning Dally — turning into a hoodlum because he’d die if he didn’t, and Steve — his hatred for his father coming out in his soft, bitter voice and the violence of his temper. Sodapop… a dropout so he could get a job and keep me in school, and Darry, getting old before his time trying to run a family and hold on to two jobs and never having any fun — while the Socs had so much spare time and money that they jumped us and each other for kicks, had beer blasts and river-bottom parties because they didn’t know what else to do. Things were rough all over, all right. All over the East Side. It just didn’t seem right to me.

“I know,” Two-Bit said with a good-natured grin, “the chips are always down when it’s our turn, but that’s the way things are. Like it or lump it.”

Cherry and Marcia didn’t say anything. I guess they didn’t know what to say. We had forgotten they were there. Then the blue Mustang was coming down the street again, more slowly.

“Well,” Cherry said resignedly, “they’ve spotted us.”

The Mustang came to a halt beside us, and the two boys in the front seat got out. They were Socs all right. One had on a white shirt and a madras ski jacket, and the other a light-yellow shirt and a wine-colored sweater. I looked at their clothes and realized for the first time that evening that all I had was a pair of jeans and Soda’s old navy sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. I swallowed. Two-Bit started to tuck in his shirttail, but stopped himself in time; he just flipped up the collar of his black leather jacket and lit a cigarette. The Socs didn’t even seem to see us.

“Cherry, Marcia, listen to us…” the handsome black-haired Soc with the dark sweater began.

Johnny was breathing heavily and I noticed he was staring at the Soc’s hand. He was wearing three heavy rings. I looked quickly at Johnny, an idea dawning on me. I remembered that it was a blue Mustang that had pulled up beside the vacant lot and that Johnny’s face had been cut up by someone wearing rings…

The Soc’s voice broke into my thoughts: “…just because we got a little drunk last time…”

Cherry looked mad. “A little? You call reeling and passing out in the streets ‘a little’? Bob, I told you, I’m never going out with you while you’re drinking, and I mean it. Too many things could happen while you’re drunk. It’s me or the booze.”

The other Soc, a tall guy with a semi-Beatle haircut, turned to Marcia. “Baby, you know we don’t get drunk very often…” When she only gave him a cold stare he got angry. “And even if you are mad at us, that’s no reason to go walking the streets with these bums.”

Two-Bit took a long drag on his cigarette, Johnny slouched and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, and I stiffened. We can look meaner than anything when we want to — looking tough comes in handy. Two-Bit put his elbow on Johnny’s shoulder. “Who you callin’ bums?”

“Listen, greasers, we got four more of us in the back seat…”

“Then pity the back seat,” Two-Bit said to the sky.

“If you’re looking for a fight…”

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow, but it only made him look more cool. “You mean if I’m looking for a good jumping, you outnumber us, so you’ll give it to us? Well…” He snatched up an empty bottle, busted off the end, and gave it to me, then reached in his back pocket and flipped out his switchblade. “Try it, pal.”