A New Perspective

1

Being a greaser ain't so bad y'know? I like getting into rumbles with Socs and fights once in a while. I think I'm the only girl in my gang who does.

I'm not like the other greaser girl in the North Side of Tulsa. They wear too much makeup, and I wear barely any. They've got greasy, dirty blonde hair, and mine is short, clean brown hair. The other girls curse a lot too. I curse sometimes, but not sixteen times in one sentence.

I live in a pretty tuff neighborhood. My sisters and I don't really have an official home, we just couch surf or sleep in the vacant lot or alley. It's not bad sleeping out there when you've got your family.

My second oldest sister, Chessie, is seventeen-going-on-eighteen, and looks much older than she is. She's got beach blonde hair, and ocean blue eyes, that can say "I love you" one minute, and have a fiery passion in them the next. It really does match her personality. She can get high off of riding on a roller coaster. She's got a smile that spreads like butter and teeth as white as pearls. She doesn't smoke or drink often, which is nice, except for when she does, because that means she's not so okay.

There's my oldest sister, Talyn, who's almost like Chessie, but in a different way. Talyn is as tough as nails, can take a beating like no other greaser girl has ever seen. She's come back to wherever home was that night, with a broken nose or a fractured arm, but never complained. Just grabbed the keys to a friends car, and drove to the hospital. Or walked if we didn't have a vehicle.

Then that leaves me. My name is Pepsi-Cola, Pepsi for short. I'm the brains in my family. I've got dark brown, almost black hair, and brown eyes. I wish I had green eyes though, since brown eyes are kinda boring, plus green eyes look cool with brown hair. People usually think im seventeen or eighteen, but I'm really fifteen.

Anyways, I was walking home with my friend Johnny, who's got black hair, black eyes, and usually looking beat up. We'd just gotten done playing football for a while when it got a little too dark for comfort. That's when we saw the luminous glow from headlights behind us. I lit up a cigarette and Johnny slouched, his hands in his pockets.

The blue Mustang slowed and slowly trailed us as we tried to escape their view. I could feel the sweat beading on my neck, I'd never been jumped before, and I don't want to be.

Johnny had been jumped before, my buddies and his buddies found him in the lot once, bruised up pretty good too.

The blue Mustang stopped, blocking us in the alley leading back to the vacant lot. I froze, the cigarette trembling in my mouth. "Hey! Two greasers! Ain't you the one we got last time?" The Soc cooed. "Yeah," Johnny said, "So what?" I bolted towards the lot. I wished I could've ran faster.

They gripped me from behind, my hands held at my sides, arms wrapped around my torso. "We'll shred her to ribbons. How about that greasy boy?" They sneered, flicking out a three inch blade. Johnny ran forward, "You leave her alone!" "J-Johnny... go get h-help... p-p-please..." Before Johnny could turn and run, he got punched in the face, a deep gash dripping blood on his cheekbone and onto his jean jacket.

"St-stop it! You're gonna k-k-kill him!" another Soc joined in on Johnny. Two versus one for both of us I guessed. His white shirt was quickly stained crimson red. I was going to shout again, but a Soc covered my mouth, and the other dragged his blade down my side, cutting me. I bit the hand on my mouth, tasting the metallic blood. The Soc pulled his hand away and I spit, hoping to get most of the blood out.

Soon, Johnny was lying in a ball on the opposite side of the lot. I tried to stand up, but I was too light headed. Instead, I flopped over into the dead grass.

It got darker, and fast. I was trying to fight off the pain to stand up and get Johnny. But I still couldn't. Three teenage boys wandered into the vacant lot and picked up Johnny's jacket. "Looks like Johnny forgot his jacket," one said. He did a double take, seeing the rust coloured stain. I think they all noticed Johnny in the corner. Suddenly, I felt a burst of energy and bolted to where Johnny was lying. "Who're you?" The black haired greaser asked, "Pepsi, I'm his friend. Who are you?" I replied. "I'm Steve, that's Soda," he motioned to the blonde, "and that's Ponyboy." he pointed at the younger looking boy. "I know Pony, he's in my biology class. We were lab partners last semester." Steve smiled, "Glad to hear you know more than Johnny in our family." I nodded, "Agreed."