Crazy little thing called, life (1950s)

The way we roll

             Martha went to sleep on an empty stomach that night. When she crept down the stairs, down the creaking pine hall and finally through the swinging door to the lanolin floored kitchen her father had been there waiting.
"Don't you know it's eleven o'clock? The kitchen's closed!" Two stress lines formed on her father's forehead as he spoke with furrowed eyebrows.
"Please dad, I'm hungry," Martha said as she took a step towards the fridge.
Rodger put a hand on the fridge door, no way anyone was opening it now...

             Martha woke up to the sound of her alarm, 7:30, as usual. And, just, as usual, it was a battle with herself to get out of bed. She pinned her dark, velvet-like bangs that fell right below her jaw back on either side with two bobby-pins and let the rest of her hair fall naturally to her mid back. Quickly, slipped into some rose-colored, canvas slacks and tucked in a white blouse with the buttons done up one button too low. She tied a black silk scarf with little pink flowers, matching her pants, around her neck and her look was complete.
Martha made it in the door of her geography class just a moment after the bell, hardly anyone noticed her being late, not that it was to anyone's surprise. She was a sophomore at Glendale High and not many expected her to make it to a senior, sometimes she didn't expect it herself. All class long she couldn't wait for the bell to ring, because one more bell after that was lunch.

            After two uninteresting periods lunch did come and so did her group of friends; There was Mary, a strawberry blonde, more on the blonde side. She lived five blocks further from school than the rest of the gang did, that's what made her different. Mary lived in a nice big house with a nice car, Cadillac. Her father came home every day in an expensive tailored suit and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.  

             Then there was, Rachel. Black hair that she kept in a short bob kept her looking tougher than ever. Rachel lived just one block over from Martha and the two girls had known each other since before they could remember.
            Next up was Bruce, he was a tough kid for fifteen and lived along the river that ran the edge of Martha and Rachel's hood. Bruce's older brother Mitch ran with a gang of bigger and meaner guys, seventeen and up. Nobody would mess around with Bruce or anyone in his gang for that matter if they knew what was good for them.
            Then finally, Benny. He too, just like the rest of 'em, was tough as nails and his brother also ran with Mitch. He had brown hair, kept back in perfectly combed swirls, smothered in grease.
Rachel's older sister was mixed in there too, always dating one of the guys or just hanging around. Mary had two older sister's, but they didn't hang around with Mitch and Benny's bother, Andy like Cassy, Rachel's older sister did. In fact, they frowned upon Mary for being seen around Martha and her kind. That's just the way it was, the generations stuck together and so did the classes, social classes that is. Yep, the classes stuck together real tight. That was another reason Mary was the odd one out.
             When Bruce and Benny walked around together if you weren't paying attention you might just think you were lookin' at Mitch and Andy. Both Mitch and Bruce wore brown leather jackets, and both Andy and Benny wore black leather jackets. All four boys greased their hair back, both sets of brothers doing it the same as the older. Mitch and Bruce usually let their brown hair fall naturally, only putting grease on for special occasions. Andy and Benny always had grease in their jet black hair. Perfect swirls going all the way back until they met in the middle was the way they liked it.
              Martha met Rachel and Mary in the third-floor bathroom, protocol. Mary was leaning over the sink looking in the small metal framed mirror that rested on the white tiles of the backsplash reapplying her signature color of pink-fuchsia lipstick.
             Rachel was leaning against the wall that ran across from the door and perpendicular with the row of sinks smoking a cigarette. "You look a little pure." She said to Martha with a bite of sass and her eyebrows raised.
             Martha squinted her eyes and shook her head at Rachel "oh sure," She said sarcastically. She leaned forward over the sink next to Mary and started to apply her own makeup, red lips and a light layer of pink blush on her high cheekbones. She hadn't had time to put it on in the morning. What Rachel had said was true though, pinks weren't Martha's regular colors. Martha usually dressed similarly to Rachel, black skirts or pants with something tight on top. At the moment, Martha looked like a spitting image of Mary. Light colors for a proper lady. Martha and Mary turned away from the mirror simultaneously, the girls were ready to roll.