The Outsiders: Randy's Little Sister

Chapter 10: How the tables turned

I didn't want to make a scene, maybe they would just back off? What was I thinking? Am I dumb? Of course they won't back off, they're probably drunk and Soda even warned me about boys like this.

"Honey," he turned me 'round. "My my how pretty ya are. Expensive clothes. Huh. Oi Boys. I think we have a Soc." He shouted this part which wasn't the best idea as everyone noticed him holding me, even the gang.

"Get off." I said sternly and saw everyone looking at me.

"Nah, girly. Everything has just begun." His face scared me; there were scars everywhere on his body, some big enough to be knife scares and some look like that could have been made from a broken pop bottle. If face made me cringe and the smoke from his cigarette made me gag inside.

"Actually jerk." I looked him right in the eye. "It's just finished and I have to leave." I scowled and tugged for him to let go of me but he just tightened his grip.

"Awe, ya scaring me real bad." He looked at the crowd that had formed 'round us.

"Get of her curly." Dally started to walk up to me but I held out my hand for him to stop.

"Curly," I said. "What a lousy name."

"Bet yours is worse." He teased.

"Not so tough, are ya now Curly. I guess talking isn't really your thing." I raised an eyebrow. "Ya not great at come backs." I heard laughs from 'round me.

"No, punching is my thing." He paused. "Ya would squeal if I punched ya."

"Would I really?"

"Yeah. Wanna go?"

"Why not. Try me. I'm not scared of ya." I paused. "C-u-r-l-y."

"Zola. Don't tempt him." I heard Darry's voice from behind but I was stubborn like that and so was he by the look of things. He took the bate and punched me. I caught it though. His hand, with my free one but it sung wildly. I didn't let it show and kept a straight face.

"How...how." Curly was lost for words. "How.."

"How....h..o...w" I mocked.

"How did ya do that?" He genuinely looked shocked. "Girls ain't tough and not Soc ones at that."

"It's called self defence honeybuns." I smiled cruelly. "Something I learnt from my household. Ya not so tough. I'm not going to scream and fall to the floor if ya try to punch me. I'm not as pathetic as ya think."

He and everyone just stared at me.

"Let go. Let go of my wrist and I'll let go of your hand." He did as I said and just stared at me absent mindedly.

"Your bleeding. Zola. Ya know that." Curly started.

I turned 'round. "I know, but ya didn't make me bleed."

"That's right. You're the famous Zola Anderson, ain't ya."

"It's aren't ya." I scoffed. I wanted to keep calm as much as I could, but I could feel my heart thumping through my chest.

"What?"

I turned 'round again. "It's aren't ya, not ain't ya."

"Does it look like I care?" He was shaking his arms 'round.

"Yeah. Ya really do."

"Ya tough for a girl." He put his fingers on my chin but I slapped them and stepped back. Pausing, he smiled at me with a cracked grin. "Oh ya have to be. Isn't your dad a drunk?"

I scowled.

"I'm right ain't I."

"Aren't." I corrected.