quatre

708 16 29
                                    

merry christmas (fuck thanksgiving sis) 

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"Hey, Ponyboy? Pony, Pony you okay?" Johnny says repeatedly shaking my arm.

Guess I must've dosed off or somethin'.

"Wh-what, yeah I'm fine, just thinkin' about shit" I reply, I mean I wasn't lying.

"Oh okay, cool" Johnny responds gathering his stuff up, while he was doing so, I swear I could see "Gone with the Wind" on the top of his binder, my favorite book.

The reason why that book has so much meaning to me is because, learning to read was a bit of a challenge for me, considering I wanted to learn at the age of 3, my Darry had accidentally left the book out on my desk after he attempted to read it (He was only 9) after I got a hold of it, I asked my mama if she could help me, after that my whole hatred for all things related to the arts had been switched upside down, I couldn't help but fall in love with reading, then shortly after, we saw the movie which came out in 1939, I then began to develop a strong bond with film, drawing just came to me naturally after I wanted to draw Bonnie's Blue horse. 

That book sparked a new interest in me I never knew I had, that's why it means so much to me.

As I was about to go up and talk to Johnny about it the bell rang.

I got up out my seat, before I could even get out the door, five soc girls came up to me asking why I was talking to a greaser.

"Were you talking to Johnny Cade?" One of the girls asked.

"Ew, why him, he's like weird" 

"Gross, he's a greaser ya know" 

Even though I called Johnny a greaser more times than I can count, why do we even call people "greasers" and "soc's" anymore? That shit was relevant in the 60s, but its 2017, I don't think they even make hair grease anymore, I guess it's old tradition we can't change.

"I was assigned to talk to him, okay" I groan rolling my eyes, moving one of them aside.

"S-sorry Ponyboy! I didn't mean to say that! Are we still goin' to Starbucks on Friday!" One of them pleads.

I asked her out to Starbucks? I must've been drunk again, I need to lay off the beer for a while.

"Uh yeah sure.." I respond.

I don't know whats wrong with me anymore, I always thought I liked girls, but never to be in a relationship, just as friends, whenever I hooked up with them, I felt more guilty and disgusted than pleased, but it's not like I can tell anyone, not even Sodapop, they'll think I'm gay, which is NOT the case, I probably just haven't found the right one yet and thats OKAY.

I sighed and brushed my brown hair back. 

I saw Johnny again, but this time he was talking to multiple people.

They looked like greasers for sure.

One of them was a blonde, not just a blonde, like he had almost white hair, and piercing blue eyes, kind of menacing, he had a sharp jawline and a black lip ring, he had tattoos all along his right arm, he was wearing a nirvana shirt and black ripped jeans with some dirty maroon vans, strange, I don't think he goes to our school.

Another one had golden blonde hair, like Soda's, only swept to the right and had sideburns, he was wearing a mickey mouse shirt and had a plaid jacket wrapped around his waist.

The last greaser had dark brown hair and blue eyes like the blonde, he was wearing an old DX hat (I think it was a car shop in the 60s), a black t-shirt and ripped blue jeans with some dirty converse.

greaser // johnnyboy ✎Where stories live. Discover now