You
Soda sat me down at a table by the window. The Dingo was certainly not something I had seen before. Most of the hangouts I had ever been to were full of what I had learned were called Socs. That wasn't really a term back up in Minneapolis. We were called Preps instead, but now, I guess I'm a Soc.
I felt a few eyes on me when I sat down. I placed my broken wrist on the table and started tapping my fingernails against it. Soda ordered me a milkshake, since I mentioned I liked mint chocolate chip shakes, and a basket of onion rings to share. They came soon enough, and I found out that Soda can stuff seven onion rings in his mouth without any trouble.
"How often do you come here? You and the waitress seemed pretty familiar with each other," I started, taking a sip of my milkshake through the white and red striped straw.
"Every other night or so. It's on the way home from the DX station," he replied, "so I stop in after a long day after work. It's a good hangout. Maybe you can start hangin' here whenever, though you might wanna start comin' with me at first." He suggestively glanced around, and I then noticed just how many people were watching me.
"Is it that peculiar for a Soc to hang out with a greaser?" I asked, raising a brow. "I understand that there's a dividing line between the two, but we're all around the same age, aren't we?"
"Well, for one, you talk reeeeeaaaaal fancy. 'Is it that peculiar?'" He smirked, making me roll my eyes with a smile. "But seriously, it's all about the money; 'least that's what I think. Ponyboy and his friend, Cherry, they think it's something more. But I don't know. If I was as rich as them Socs are, I think I'd be just like that. I'd be all like, 'oh, look at me, I've got a nice car and pretty clothes and my allowance is more than 5 bucks a day.' Maybe being poor's a good thing."
I looked down at my milkshake and played with the straw. "You know, people with money aren't always like that," I said quietly.
I saw his head dart up towards me. "No, no, I didn't mean-- I know that not all Socs are bad. I was just talking 'bout the rotten ones. You-- you ain't rotten."
"No," I sighed, "it's fine. It's just that... if there's anything I dislike, though, it's that superficial and generalized judgement. There are more layers to a person than the foremost."
"That's just a fancy way of sayin', 'don't judge a book by its cover,' isn't it?"
I chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is."
"Yeah. So, anyways, are you in school?"
"No, not yet. Next year I'll be a senior at Tulsa City High-- apparently, the only high school in this town."
"That ain't true; there's a private girls' school and a private boys' school on the far East end of town. A lot of the kids from the next town over go there, though, and not as many here in Tulsa go there."
"I don't know if I could deal with an all-girls school. Almost all of my friends have ever been guys, you know."
"I get that. When you graduate, what're you gonna do? You look like you'd be smart enough for Yale or... Any college, I guess," he replied, making me smile.
I sighed. "Maybe. I might go back to Minneapolis on my own, or maybe I'll go the university in the next town over. I'd like to be a historian, and they've got a big program for that. It's really close to the hospital where Jackson works."
"Jackson?" he asked.
"He's my... my dad-- kind of; it's hard to explain. What about you? Who do you live with?"
"My parents died last year, so it's just me, Pony, and my older brother, Darry."
"Goodness," I gasped, "I'm sorry. Losing a parent is tough."
Sodapop glanced out the window. "You lost your mom, I assume?"
"Yeah, I did." I pursed my lips. "She was an alcoholic in rehab. She received a liver transplant, but her body rejected it suddenly and she went into organ failure. For about five months, she was brain dead. Eventually, it got to be too much, so I... my older brother and I signed the papers and they... unplugged her," I said frankly.
"Awe, golly, I had no clue," he said. "You had to move down with your dad, then, right?"
"I don't really think of him as my dad, rather than just my legal guardian. I've only seen him once before I moved in with him, and that was about ten years ago."
"Wow, that's a long time." He paused for a minute, as if in deep thought. "Say, wanna meet Darry? He's cool, I think he'd like ya'."
"Sure. I guess we're finished with the onion rings, anyway." I chuckled.
Soda chuckled too and stood up, tossing his flannel back over his shoulders. I brushed off my skirt, jumping slightly when he smacked a five down on the table. Being a gentleman, he held out his arm, so I linked mine with his and gave him a sweet smile. It was slightly flirtatious, too, I'll admit.
We walked out onto the street and further into the West side of town. Soda and I chatted about more frivolous things than our parents' deaths, fortunately. It wasn't long before we reached a small house. There was a broken bike in the yard sitting next to a bent up trashcan, and the grass was slowly yellowing; it obviously hadn't been watered in months.
"Darry, I'm home," Soda hollered as he opened the door for me. "And I've brought someone with me!"
"Who? Paul Newman," a deep voice joked. A man stepped into the front room with a cup of coffee.
Soda chuckled. "You wish. Darry, this is (F/n). I call her Strawberry."
Darry walked towards me and held his left hand out, noticing that my right was in a cast. I shook his huge hand and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, (F/n). You new in town?"
"I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, too."
"Good. Soda, I thought you was heading out with the boys. Where are they?"
Just then, the door swung open, and in bumbled Darry, Steve, Johnny, and Ponyboy. Steve hollered, "Well, we's right here!"
YOU ARE READING
Fresh Start -Sodapop x Reader
FanfictionA girl who's looking for a fresh start in a new town after big family change; and a boy who needs someone to mend his broken heart. What could do the trick in getting them together?
