I love you, Haley

Haley walked slowly down the sidewalk. All of her surroundings were new and unfamiliar. She didn’t like the feeling of the unknown. Then again Tulsa didn’t differ too much from Kansas City and she was big girl after all. Everything would feel right with time.

Haley’s first day in her new school made her apprehensive. She only had one year left and she wanted it to be the best. Her new class of ’68 was big and was more intimidating than the 300 peers she left behind in Kansas City. But that wasn’t really what bothered Haley about this new home. What dug into her skin was the obvious separation among the school. Everyone seemed nice but the tension between everyone was uncomforting. It was plain as day to see who ran the school, jocks, cheerleaders, the people you like to show off how rich their daddies are. Then at the bottom were the outcasts. The ones with leather jackets and slicked hair. All of them were treated as unequals. They are the outsiders and by her impression there was no real reason for them to be. Stereotyping was Haley’s biggest irritation.

In all her thoughts of school Haley almost forgot what she was looking for. On the way into Tulsa Haley’s father’s car began to make an intolerable clinking noise. So naturally Mr. Michaels took it to a repair shop for inspection. The DX station is what it was called. Haley was sent to see into the progress. Throughout the entire walk Haley hadn’t noticed she was now entering the west side of town.

The west side and the east side seemed like two different worlds, let alone in the same town. On the west side, big houses lined in nice neat columns stood side by side. All with manicured lawns and Mustang’s and Corvair’s parked in front. The east side is different, almost the opposite. Nice houses are far and in between, there were no clean cut yards or Mustang’s. Just an occasional beat up pickup and long grass. In the same town there are two places so very different from one another, no wonder there is tension.

The DX Station sat a little off the edge of the west side. From the outside it appeared respectable. At the gas pumps a few kids, Haley recognized from school, stood talking; all with greased hair and cigarettes. As she walked closer to the front door of the building all the boys stopped and stared. Uneasily she slid through the door to hear little chimes from bells at the top. The building was just a little open room with a counter and register, a few chairs, a vending machine, and doors that multiple sounds came from. Behind the resister was a boy with an eagle tattoo and slicked black hair. Haley thought he might be in her History class.

“Excuse me,” Haley began as she approached the register. The boy with the tag Steve was counting coins into the money slots. “I’m here to see about my father’s Corvair. It’s a blue ’66. We brought it in yesterday.” Steve didn’t look up from his coins and just nodded.

“Yeah, the ’66 Corvair. One of our boys is working on it now. You can talk to him about it. Right through that door over there.” He pointed to the first door on the left.

“Thank you,” Haley said as she began to walk to the door.

“Mhmm,” He trailed after.

When Haley came upon the door every noise grew louder. Each bang and screech soniced as she entered. Through the door was a large garage area. Two cars and people we scattered around. To the far right sat a blue Corvair with two legs sticking out of the side. Haley gradually made her way to the car and stopped at the front tire.

“Hello,” Haley sounded loudly to be sure he could hear over the racket. “I’m here to see about this car. It belongs to my father.” The legs began to fidget followed by a few hmm’s.

“Well,” His voice was loud and sturdy. “Your father is one lucky man. This undercarriage has been rattled pretty bad. Musta hit something a decent size.” Haley began to circle the car recalling the rock they ran over while crossing to border.

“But, you can fix it, right?” This was a nice car and Haley’s father didn’t need another excuse to spend his money on a new one. There was money for there to be spending but nothing of value to spend it on.

“Sure can,” The man from under the car reassured. The sound of wheels slid across the floor then the man hidden under the car appeared standing on the opposite side of Haley.

She had to catch her breath. The man wasn’t a man at all. He was just a boy. Couldn’t be any more than 18. His skin was tan and his hair was a greased jet black. Gleaming blue eyes stared at her with charming innocence. Only in movies had Haley seen someone so handsome. He was striking and just with one smile he had Haley lost in Neverland. She couldn’t help but grin.

The boy still bearing a smile set in motion to the front of the car. While opening the hood he began to stutter. “And umm…” He gave a quick glance to Haley then shook away his smile. “You, you need your oil changed. I, I can to that too, if you’d like.” He looked to Haley the buried his head into the engine.

“Umm, yes. That would be great.” Haley was left speechless. She was star struck. “Do you know how long before it could be fixed?”

“Well, I might have it done by tomorrow, or it could be the next.” The boy retreated from the hood when the boy form the cashier put an arm across his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t be bashful,” Steve spoke in a thick accent. “You know you can have anything fixed around here within 24 hours. You are the best, after all.” Steve gestured a wink. “That is unless you want’em to come back a few times.” The boy looked mortified once he turned back to Haley.

“Really, the best? Well this car will be in good hands then,” Haley smiled and gave a reinsurance nod. The corner of the boy’s mouth tugged.

“I’m Sodapop, by the way. Sodapop Curtis. You can just call me Soda, if you want too.” His voice actually wasn’t loud or sturdy at all. Soda had a quiet, gentle voice.

“Sodapop, well that’s a real nice name,” Soda’s grin grew wider.

“I’m sure yours is just as nice.”

“Haley. Haley Michaels,” She beamed proudly.

“See, that’s twice as nice as mine,” Soda’s words were delicate.

“Well Haley, my name is Steve Randall. I am Soda boy here’s best friend and right hand man,” Steve boldly announced. Soda stifled a laugh.

“I know your name, you’re in my History class,” Steve had a clarifying moment.

“Yeah! That’s right, you’re the new girl,” The new girl, a term Haley heard a lot today.

She solemnly nodded, “I didn’t see you today at school, Soda.”

Soda looked away for a moment, “I work full time,” He was a dropout, and by the look on her face he was also regretful.

“That’s not always a bad thing,” Haley was liked to be the comforter. Soda shyly smiled.

“So,” Steve again began. “What is a lovely Soc like yourself, doin’ hanging around these parts, talkin’ to a couple of Greasers like us?”

“Excuse me?” Haley didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Not very many Soc’s come around here to just talk.”

“What’s a Soc?” Haley questioned.

“Well glory,” Steve smacked Soda in the center of his chest. “She is new, ain’t she? From what wood works did you come from, darlin’?”

“Kansas City,” Haley said unsure of herself.

“The Missouri side I take it,” Soda piped up. Haley nodded again. “There weren’t any Soc’s and Greaser’s in Kansas City?”

“No,” Haley responded. Steve and Soda gazed at each other, and then Steve patted Soda’s head.

“Sounds like heaven. Don’t it, Sodapop?” Soda nodded then stuck his head back under the hood.

Steve came around alongside me and leaned against the door, “So this is your old man’s ride, huh?” Haley nodded. “You got one?”

“It’s a ’65.”

“That can dig alright. And you live on the west side?”

“In the new housing development, right in the center of town.”

“Ya, hear that Soda?” Steve shouted over the noise.

“Yeah, I heard it,” Soda replied in a low mumble.

Haley bit her lip nervously and brushed back a lock of her brown hair. “I should probably get going,” She started for the door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Steve. And I’ll come check on the car tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” they both chorused. Soda finally popped back up from the engine and his eyes lingered on Haley’s. He sore fully looked away.

“Soda, it was real nice to meet you,” And with that Haley went out the door.

A long low whistle followed from Steve. “Well, ain’t that the perdiest Soc you ever seen?”

“Yeah,” Soda wiped his hand across his face leaving oil skids on his forehead. “She’s a Soc, alright,” He alleged slamming the hood shut.