Come Together|Sodapop Curtis|

Prologe

**Six Years Ago**

Avery's P.O.V

I skipped down the dirty sidewalk of the east side of town, my small ten year-old feet aching from the long walk home from the market. My Chuck Taylor's were two sizes too small and were starting to rip at the heel. The soles were worn and hard as a rock from constant use. I've been begging my parents for a new pair but, my feet are the least of their worries.

I was all caught up in my thoughts when four twelve year-olds started to follow me. They were all Socs, the rich kids who live on the west side of Tulsa. All of them dressed in freshly pressed kakis and expensive button downs. People like me, the poor kids, are known as Greasers mostly because the boys wear their hair heavily greased back.
Their going to take my money, probably dump the food in my bag, they don't need it they just do it for kicks.

It was too late when I noticed them. I shoved the remaining money my mother gave me into my back pocket hoping they'll take the bag of food I was holding instead.

"Hey kid!" One of them yelled once they got within thirty feet of me. They quickened their pace as I quickened mine and soon they were sprinting after me. My feet couldn't any more, from a whole day of school and walking five miles into town and back, so they caught me no problem.

One pushed me to the ground as another took my bag. The fear was almost unbearable and it took all of my strength not to let it show on my face. They dumped the bag all over the sidewalk letting a couple of loaves of bread and some fruit spill out. They were talking to each other but I zoned it all out trying desperately to think of an escape plan. I couldn't make a run for it, they would quickly catch me. I couldn't talk them out of it, it would only provoke them to beat me. All I could think of would be to scream for help, someone would probably hear me because we weren't too far from main street that was usually crawling with people at this hour. So, that's exactly what I did.

"HELP ME!!!!!!!" I screamed as loud as my throat could bear.

One of the boys turned to me, he had curly blonde hair that was grazing his bushy eyebrows. I knew what I was going to get as soon as his sharp eyes narrowed in on mine. As expected, he raised his fist and threw it across my cheek. The force knocked me over so I was on my side gasping for air. Pain exploded over my face as I brought my hand over to check for blood. Sure enough my palm was covered in the warm, thick substance. He must've split open the vulnerable skin covering my cheek bone.

"Hey!" A new voice boomed over the rest. I turned around and saw three boys, the older two held switchblades and a younger one peeked from behind. One was noticeably older than the others, his biceps bulged and his dirty blonde hair was heavily greased back. His body looked sixteen but his facial features said fourteen. The other boy wasn't as muscular but much more attractive. He had long blonde hair and huge brown eyes, his eyebrows were furrowed but his mouth was crafted into an amused grin. They were greasers, just like me.

The Socs didn't have switchblades like these boys, if they did they would have them out by now. They weren't scared of the boys, they were scared of the knives clutched in between their fingers. The four Socs glanced at each other and ran off. The attractive boy got to me first.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he knelt down beside me. I nodded and glanced at the other two boys who just reached us. "I'm Sodapop Curtis," He said helping me to my feet. "And this is my brother Darry," He motioned to the older boy, "And this is my other brother Ponyboy," The youngest boy stepped out from behind Darry and I got a good look at him for the first time. His reddish brown hair was free of grease and his musty green eyes stared at me with curiosity.

"I'm A-Avery," I stuttered still in shock from the past events. Soda noticed and tried to comfort me.

"Hey. . . They ain't gonna hurt you no more," He said softly. His grammar was terrible but his words gave me this impossible feeling of safety.

+ + +

The boys walked me home and we talked about our lives. Darry is fourteen, like I suspected, and is in ninth grade, he is very strong and plays football for our school, he is very good at it, too. Soda is a year older than me in sixth grade, he loves cars. The more I talked with Soda the more I realized how kind he is. He was constantly grinning and me do the same by just glancing his way. He is one good looking kid. Ponyboy is in third grade and is like a male version of me. He has a growing love for stories and literature. He isn't as serious as Darry but isn't as outgoing as Soda. He is some where in the middle. He is curious.