The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Never Walk Alone At Night

The only time I could get away was in the dead of night. But I liked walking the tracks alone, it gave me time to think. Walking got me away from everything going on at home. It was a nice distraction. And I'm glad I was walking on the tracks tonight, otherwise, I wouldn't have met him.

It was a brisk night in downtown Tulsa. There was a light breeze ruffling my long hair, and I wished I hadn't forgotten to bring a jacket. The streets were pretty much empty except for the few stray cars coming back from work or going to parties. I had just left the tracks and was starting on my way home. Usually, I would be out later but like I said, it was getting cold.

If I was smart, I would have taken the long way home. I lived on the west side of town with my mother, older brother, James, and older sister, Megan. My father left a few months ago on a bender with some waitress from The Way Out, a dinner socs frequently go to. Socials, or socs as we call ourselves are the jet set, the rich kids. We jump greasers, the poor kids from the east side, wreck houses, and throw beer blasts for kicks.

I may have been a soc, but I'm not into all that stuff. I had good friends, money, popularity, and good looks. But I wasn't happy, I didn't want any of that. I didn't want to be a soc and I didn't want there to be sides of Tulsa. I just wished everything could be simple, no sides, no greasers, no socs, no gangs. Of course, that was impossible.

Greasers would still be hoods in the end. They would grow up to be old hoods like socs would grow up to have more money than they knew what to do with. I knew the sides in Tulsa would never change, but somewhere out there, there had to be a place with no socials or greasers. There had to be someplace better. Right?

I sighed at the idea as I turned down a back alley. Like I said, if I was smart, I would have taken the long way home, but I don't often use my head. It bugged my mother something awful before she hardened herself beyond caring. That was something socs did, we didn't let ourselves care for things like we should have. That was another difference between greasers and socs.

As I continued to walk, a long, low whistle, ending in a sudden high note echoed behind me, making me stop abruptly. Then it clicked, why I should have gone the long way. The downtown gangs usually patrolled the alleys by the tracks at night. And if I was right, which I was, this was the Shapard gang's territory. They were one of the worst gangs from what I knew.

Slowly, I looked over my shoulder. At the end of the alley, was the silhouette of a man engulfed in darkness. The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood up as the same whistle started to echo around overhead and on both sides of me. I was frozen in place as figures started to emerge from the shadows. And if you don't think that's scary, then you're out of your mind. I was terrified.

I mean, how could I not be terrified? I was an eighteen-year-old girl (going on nineteen in April), five feet, four inches tall, with little to no muscle. Not to mention my wavey black hair went down to my lower back, which made it easy to grab. I thought about making a run for it, but I would be outnumbered and I knew wouldn't get far in flats. Not to mention, I couldn't run to save my life.

I looked back in front of me, swallowed up my fear, and started walking. Maybe they would let me pass. It was unlikely but maybe they were just trying to spook me. If they were, then they succeeded because I was a little more than just spooked.

Suddenly the whistle rang out behind me again and I couldn't help but turn around. The man from the end of the alley was closer this time, only he wasn't a man, more like a boy no older than sixteen or seventeen. I could see him almost as clear as day in the moonlight, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets as he brought himself up to his fullest height.

I gasped a little and I stepped back. Only to let out a small shriek as I backed into someone and whipped around. Another boy stood in front of me, so tall that I had to tilt my head skyward to see his face.