Big Boys Don't Cry - The Outsiders

Seven

September 1964,

Tulsa,

The tension was thick, it wound it's way around my neck and choked me as the group of Greasers stood and looked at me with ice-cold expressions. Daggers from their eyes, clenched jaws and curled lips. I felt intimidated and I could tell that Cherry was uneasy too. The violent strumming of Bob Dylan in the background only made the friction worse and I was about to walk away when Steve Randle spoke up. "Hey! Her Daddy's the one that's always giving Dal a rough time. The man's always shoutin' hero...let's see where that get's him." He elbowed Two-bit in the stomach and laughed obnoxiously, the statement seemed threatening to me. 

"Come on guys, you know Dally. He's dangerous-" Ponyboy's eyes met mine, I felt his sympathy for me and smiled "can you really blame the guy for putting him in the cooler so much?" Two-Bit tutted and his expression changed quickly to a dark one as if Ponyboy's argument had only made him much angrier and more defiant about his feelings on my situation. He whacked the youngest over the head causing a 'thwack' sound and furrowed his eyebrows. 

"You should know better than that Pony, Dallas is our friend - he'd sure shut your trap for you if he had heard ya say that." He then turned to face Sodapop who was goofing around with Johnny behind: ruffling each other's greasy mop and hitting one and other playfully on the arm. "Soda he's your kid brother. It sure ain't my job to be telling him what to do and what not to do." 

That explained why Sodapop first clamped his hand around Ponyboy's arm when the uncertainty had first started to arise, as the conversation continued his grip loosened and soon enough he wasn't even touching Pony. I could tell that the two brother's were close, it was easy to see that they had each other's back and thinking of it in the moment, I remembered that there was three of them, the eldest was twenty one, my eldest sister used to fool around with him back at school when she was on the cheer squad and well, when she was still in education that is. 

Up until now, I hadn't mentioned much about my sister. She had a life of her own, a husband and everything; even though she was only the same age as the Curtis' oldest brother. Still living here in Tulsa, on the West side of course, in a three bedroom home and trying to begin a family with her boring soc husband that she'd been highschool sweethearts with. He was on the football team, that Curtis brother was the captain despite the fact he was a Greaser. Everyone liked him, my sister always used to have him round, but one day he fell off the social radar and stuck to the East like hood's grease stuck to their hair. I never knew why, but I kind of missed hearing about him - it was like a movie star who had died or something like that. 

"Either way Two-Bit you shouldn't be picking on her like that." Ponyboy's persistent voice broke my thought. He looked pissed now, he seemed as though he was often overlooked by the older ones in the gang. 

"What does it matter? She ain't even blonde anyway." He laughed and then flicked his switchblade from his back pocket, fondling and cradling it like his offspring. It was spotless: it's pristine blade blinded me for a second as it caught the light and bounced it back into my eyes. He stared at his reflection for a few seconds, thinking and running his tongue over his teeth. 

"Let's get outta here, I ain't standing with no cop's daughter any longer." Steve was full of hatred for the whole time and this caused him to be the one to usher the group away - wrenching Pony from his moment of defiance and glory. Just like he had demanded the pack of greasers skipped away; I watched them through the window. Sodapop seemed content as he flipped and somersaulted over the fence showing his flexibility and disappearing like all Greaser's seemed to do into the night with  a skip. 

It gave me a scare when I finally snapped my head around to see the two smallest boys still standing in the same place. "You alright? You're looking the same colour as that white fence over there, we ain't that scary, are we?" Johnny said, his deep puppy dog eyes drowning me in thought as he spoke. But the eye contact was soon dropped as his head fell back down and his anxious eyes resumed their staring contest with the floor. Regardless of his nerves, I felt comfortable around him and felt an overwhelming urge to let him rest in my arms; if I had gone near him he'd most likely had flinched from my touch, I was a stranger still of course.