Stay Gold

That morning with the boys felt so surreal, I couldn’t explain it. I barely knew either of them, yet, I had felt like I’ve known them my whole life. Never have I imagined that two greasers would be saving my life; And for that, I owe them everything. We bullshitted for hours, at least until Ponyboy and Johnny had to go to school.

“Do you go to school?” Asked Johnny.

I didn’t know what to say at first, because truthfully, I didn’t know if I still went to school. I mean, I went to school back home in Texas, but here... I’m not so sure. I’d only been here a day. “I’m a dropout,” I blurted out. “I don’t want to go to school no more,” I added.

“What do you want to do then?” He asked again.

I shrugged, because honestly, I had no clue what I wanted to do. I still in awe that I made it to Oklahoma, and that it looked like I’d be staying here for a while. “I just want to be free. For 16 years, I’ve felt like a prisoner inside my own house. Actually, I felt worse than a prisoner. I’m not quite sure if there’s even a word to describe how I felt; Just, until now, my life was a blazing inferno and my father was the devil. You don’t know what it’s li-”

“Actually...” Ponyboy began, “Johnny does.”

I looked over at Johnny, head down, shoulders slumped, “My folks beat the shit out of me, too,” He quietly said. “It’s fine, though,” He looked up, flashing a reassuring smile, “It’ll stop one day, and I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe that’s how he got the scar on his face,” I thought. If Johnny was abused, does that mean Pony was, too?

“You’ve heard my story, I’ve heard Johnny’s story,” I began, “what's yours, Ponyboy?”

He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag, “My parents are dead. It’s just me, Soda, and Darry... Darry kind of had to grow up fast after our parents died, so he could take care of us... Otherwise Soda and I would be in a boys home.”

He passed the cancer stick to me, but I gave him an odd look and pushed it away.

“You don’t smoke, do you?” He asked.

I shrugged and shook my head a bit. It’s not that I’ve never smoked, it’s the fact that I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of Pony and Johnny.

Ponyboy passed the cancer stick my way again, “One drag won’t kill you,” He smirked.

I grabbed it from his hand and a short drag, coughing shortly after, “For fuck sake!” I exclaimed, still coughing, “H-how do you people s-stand d-d-doing that?” I was certain I was either going to cough so hard that I coughed up an organ or lung, or that I was going to throw up everywhere. Either possibility wasn’t good.

They both kind of looked at each other then started laughing, “It’s something you get used to,” The boys said in unison. “Take another drag.”

With the cigarette still in my hand, I did just that. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, I didn’t cough as much, but I still didn’t take a liking to it. I quickly handed the cancer stick over to Johnny, who took a long drag, like Ponyboy did.

I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do once the boys left for school. I would be in a strange city, in a strange house, in a strange neighborhood, all alone. That’s one thing I didn’t have to worry about back home, I knew everybody, I knew my way around. Here, I knew Ponyboy and Johnny, my first friends. I was trapped in the house all day. I almost felt like I was being held captive, though, I wasn’t exactly complaining. I liked it, actually. I begged Johnny to stay at Ponyboy’s with me while he was at school, or until Soda or Darry came home. And he did just that.

The two of us throughout the day. I rested, mainly. My whole body felt broken, I was bleeding on and off from where my head had hit the pavement last night. I felt like shit. Not even shit, I felt like horseshit, the kind that’s been stepped on a few hundred times.

I glanced over at Johnny, who’s eyes were glued to the television. “So,” I started saying, “What do you guys do your shits and giggles around here?”

He looked over at me and shrugged, “Depends, sometimes we go to the movies, sometimes we do other things...” Johnny said, gesturing to his blade. “Don’t worry, Elaine,” He paused, “It’s not like I’ve ever had to use it.”

Now I was a bit frightened. Was a rooming with a damn psychopath, or what? No one carries around a blade ‘just to have it’.

“Why the hell do you carry it then?” I bluntly said.

I kept looking at the knife, “You never know what’ll happen. You never know what those soc’s are capable of... I got attacked by a group of them, that’s how I got that mark on my face.”

Well, that answered one of my questions. I was still left with a few unanswered, though.

“My friend Dally did time in the slammer for fighting back against them, put a kid right in the hospital because of it...” His voice trailed off for a brief second, “Another thing,” He said, “the fuzz with always take the soc’s side, no matter what. If you got money, you’re safe. If you’re one of us, you’re fucked, you’re on your own.”

Well, that was a blunt way of putting it. I guess what he was saying was sort of true. You need money to do anything in this world; to be anybody, even. As fucked up as it is, it’s reality. I had less than 50 bucks to my name now, I didn’t even have extra clothes. There’s no way in hell I’d never be a soc. Greaser, maybe, but never a soc. Which left me with one more question...

“Johnny,” I began, “how do I become a greaser?”

He gave me a weird look and laughed a bit, “You don’t,” He paused, lighting up a cancer stick, “You’re born one.”

Well, there’s goes that idea, goddamn.

“But,” He said, taking another long drag of the cancer stick, “You are one, Elaine. It may not show too much just yet, but there’s no doubt that you are.”

What the hell does that mean? I was born Elaine, I don’t get how somebody could be born a greaser, especially when that person hasn’t been around them since birth, like the boys were.

“How do you know?” I asked, motioning for Johnny to pass me the cancer stick. I took a longer drag this time, and didn’t cough. This whole smoking thing wasn’t that bad.

“It’s something that comes naturally. It’s just something I can tell that you’re are.” He took the cancer stick back, took a couple more drags, and put it out.

We talked a little bit longer, and I learned more about his friend, Dally, who’s real name was Dallas Winston. He’s just a year older than me. I learned that he was a jerk much of the time, but had a nice side, or so I heard. From the sounds of it, he’s a dog by the way he picks up women, or tries to, at least. In other words, he sounded like an asshole. Johnny finally fell asleep around noon, while I stayed up, thinking about everything he told me about being a greaser.