- DALLAS WINSTON.
❝ GIVE 'EM A RUN FOR THEIR
MONEY, SWEETHEART. ❞
[ THE OUTSIDERS ]
[ GRAPHIC CONTENT ]
[RIGHTS:]
- THE ONLY CHARACTERS I OWN WILL BE INTRODUCED, I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS CREATED BY SE HINTON.
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MARTY R.—
"tulsa, oklahoma, that's where you wanna be. the business is boomin' there."
less than a day's trip, simple enough. i knew there were family friends there, the shephard's. one phone call and i was on my merry way. loaded the trailer, hooked it to the back of my pick-up and off i was.
i drove the entire day, left at midnight and got there around ten at night. the open country roads were soothing, unlike the rough asphalt i raced on. the gravel shot out from under my tires in a perfect rhythm.
"martin!"
a childhood nickname, it was angela.
"hey ang." i smiled, hopping out of the truck.
before i could even close the car door, angela had thrown her arms around my waist and her head rested in the crook of my neck. she was always a few inches under me. angela was also always a very loving, touchy person.
"you're rooming with me." she smiled, pulling away.
i had once lived in tulsa. when life was good, childhood ignorance. my parents were together, my family was a whole unit. my two older brothers and i used to live next door to the shepard's. as children we all stuck together, both sets of parents were huge advocates of this. that was before the shit hit the fan.
my eyes traveled to the tan house next to the shepard's. my jaw clenched as i noticed how barren my childhood home was. angela noticed were my focus went to.
"no one has moved in after you." she spoke softly.
i wasn't sure if i should be angry or ecstatic my house was left untouched from anyone other than my family.
i took my first steps in the house, my first words were spoken on the porch i stared at. i lived in the house till i was 9, my parents moved us to florida after their dispute. angela and i shared many sleepovers, makeovers, crying sessions, memories in the house.
i remember the summer her father left, the summer before i was forced to florida. my mission was to make my best friend the happiest i could after she fell into my arms, a crying mess at only 6.
the tan girl pulled me towards her home, a small smile on her face.
"so where's the two goons?" i asked.
"curly is out with his babe of a best friend." she grinned.
"who is hanging around with now?" i asked, plopping myself in the old rocking chair i loved as a child.
"still the curtis boy, but he's gotten a lot cuter." she sighed.
i vaguely remembered the curtis boys. the only connection i had to them was curly, and sodapop used to pull on my braids at recess. he was a real dick.
"where's timmy at then?" i rocked slightly.
"gang work." angela mumbled.
i raised an eyebrow, "i'm not very surprised. he's a natural born leader. please tell me he's at least leading a gang."
"yeah, he is. i'm kinda forced into it, it bein' shepard's gang and all." she shrugged.
i nodded, we caught up with each other. laughing at old memories occasionally. i missed tulsa, just a little bit.
"angie, who is in the driveway?" a voice called, walking through the front door.
my smile grew, it was curly. he was bigger, looked a lot like tim. i almost wanted to cry i missed the kid so much.
"marty?" he grinned and i hopped up to hug him.
i noticed a boy stood a little bit behind him. it must be the younger curtis boy, ponyboy. at least i think he had some outrageous name like it.
"i missed you so much." i breathed.
"i missed you too, did you shrink?" he joked, noticing he was taller than i was now.
"oh shut your trap, kid. i'm still older than you." i laughed.
maybe i missed tulsa a lot.
—
angela and i sat on the front porch, a cigarette hung loosely between my lips. angela was going on about random bullshit. i needed the eldest shepard to arrive.
my prayers were finally answered as the sun fell. i stood up to greet tim.
"martin." he sported a greasy smile to match his hair.
"timmy." i smirked.
"angela, go inside." tim barked out at his sister.
"but-" angela went to protest, but one glare from her brother made her run inside.
"goodnight marty, good to have you back." she rushed, closing the door as she disappeared into the house.
"so street racing?" he asked, pulling a cigarette out.
"i get paid for doing what i love." i answered, leaning against the weathered column.
"down 67th street. the boys race under the bridge, through the tunnel, and around the dirt road. takes you right back to 67th." tim spoke, the cigarette smoke traveled through the air.
