･ﾟ➶ Loved and Abandoned ➶⋆* | The Outsiders x Male Oc

➶ 015 ➶

We settled down as we walked to the lot. Two-Bit was the only one wearing a jacket; he had a couple of cans of beer stuffed in it. He always gets high before a rumble. Before anything else, too, come to think of it. I shook my head.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Ponyboy piped up, most likely to finish his interrogation. "how come you like to fight?" I was correct.

"Shoot, everybody fights." If everybody jumped in the Arkansas River, ol' Two-Bit would be right on their heels.

"what about you Joey?" He asked and I was taken back. I had never really thought about it, everybody fights so its not really something you think about.

"geeze uhh, well I guess everybody fights." He looked at me as if I were stupid, "I mean, many peoplefight for many different reasons, whether that be physically or mentally" the gang laughed at me, "oh shut up. But for me in this instance, I fight for the gang, for my family. I might not be a good fighter, nor am I that strong. But I fight for family. I'll do anything to protect the ones I love".

"oh, ok" he said and stared into the distance deep in thought.

"Listen, Soda, you and Ponyboy," Darry said as we strode down the street, "if the fuzz show, you two beat it out of there. The rest of us can only get jailed. You two can get sent to a boys' home."

"Nobody in this neighbourhood's going to call the fuzz," Steve said grimly. 'They know what'd happen if they did."

"All the same, you two blow at the first sign of trouble. You hear me?"

"You sure don't need an amplifier," Soda said, and stuck out his tongue at the back of Darry's head. I chuckled at their playfulness. If you want to see something funny, it's a tough hood sticking his tongue out at his big brother.

Tim Sheppard and company were already waiting when we arrived at the vacant lot, along with a gang from Brumly, one of the suburbs. Tim was a lean, catlike eighteen-year-old who looked like the model JD you see in movies and magazines. He had the right curly black hair, smoldering dark eyes, and a long scar from temple to chin where a tramp had belted him with a broken pop bottle. He had a tough, hard look to him, and his nose had been broken twice. Like Dally's, his smile was grim and bitter.

He was one of those who enjoy being a hood. The rest of his bunch were the same way. The boys from Brumly, too. Young hoods--- who would grow up to be old hoods. I'd never thought about it before, but they'd just get worse as they got older, not better. I didn't want to end up like that, I wanted to be someone better, maybe even go somewhere in life. I'm going somewhere. I will. I'll make sure of it.

Tim had the tense, hungry look of an alley cat--- that's what he's always reminded me of, an alley cat--- and he was constantly restless. His boys ranged from fifteen to nineteen, hard-looking characters who were used to the strict discipline Tim gave out. That was the difference between his gang and ours--- they had a leader and were organized; we were just buddies who stuck together--- each man was his own leader.

Maybe that was why we could whip them. Tim and the leader of the Brumly outfit moved forward to shake hands with each of us--- proving that our gangs were on the same side in this fight, although most of the guys in those two outfits weren't exactly what Id like to call my friends. He shook each of our hands but when he got to Ponyboy he said something about how his brother was in the cooler.

I didn't listen, mainly because it wasn't any of my damn business. But I tuned into what he was saying when a Brumly kid waved him over. That was the best thing about me, I could listen to conversations in a huge crowd or a mile away, but most of the time I just tuned everybody out. My hearing was funny that way.

He asked to borrow a weed, then lit up. "That big guy with y'all, you know him pretty well?"

"I ought to, he's my brother," Ponyboy said.

"No kiddin'? I got a feelin' he's gonna be asked to start the fireworks around here. He a pretty good bopper?" I could tell Ponyboy was confused. Darry wasn't usually the ones to start rumbles, but this was our fight, we just got Tim and his buddies to come and help us. So it would have to be him who had to start the rumble.

Most greasers don't have real tuff builds or anything. They're mostly lean and kind of panther-looking in a slouchy way. This is partly because they don't eat much and partly because they're slouchy. Darry looked like he could whip anyone there.

I think most of the guys were nervous because of the 'no weapons' rule. I didn't know about the Brumly boys, but I knew Shepard's gang were used to fighting with anything they could get their hands on--- bicycle chains, blades, pop bottles, pieces of pipe, pool sticks, or sometimes even heaters. I mean guns.

Our gang never went in for weapons. We're just not that rough. The only weapons we ever used were knives, and shoot, we carried them mostly just for looks. Like Two-Bit with his black-handled switch. I had a pretty good shot, I could throw a knife or dart at a board blindfolded and I still get it, but none of us had ever really hurt anybody or wanted to. Just Johnny. And he hadn't wanted to.

"Hey, Curtis!" Tim yelled. Pony jumped. "Which one?" I heard Soda yell back. "The big one. Come on over here." I followed Darry, staying close to his side. I was like his right-hand man in a sense, or at least that's what the others thought. In reality we were boyfriends but we haven't told anyone yet. Most likely cause Darry's still unsure of everything.

I stuck closer to Darry and Tim, because the Socs were arriving. Right on time. They came in four carloads and filed out silently. I counted twenty-two of them. There were twenty-one of us, so I figured the odds were as even as we could get them. Darry always liked to take on two at a time anyway. They looked like they were all cut from the same piece of cloth: clean-shaven with semi-Beatle haircuts, wearing striped or checkered shirts with light red or tan-colored jackets or madras ski jackets.

They could just as easily have been going to the movies as to a rumble. That's why people don't ever think to blame the Socs and are always ready to jump on us. We look hoody and they look decent. It could be just the other way around--- half of the hoods I know are pretty decent guys underneath all that grease, and from what I've heard, a lot of Socs are just cold-blooded mean--- but people usually go by looks.

They lined up silently, facing us, and we lined up facing them. A guy with a madras shirt stepped up. "Let's get the rules straight--- nothing but our fists, and the first to run lose. Right?" Tim flipped away his beer can.

"You savvy real good." There was an uneasy silence: Who was going to start it? Darry solved the problem. He stepped forward under the circle of light made by the street lamp, and said-

"I'll take on anyone," and for the first time in a while I felt worried for him. I was shit when it came to fighting so I was naturally nervous. But this time I was even more nervous because this time, we were up against Socs.