Title: Don't Let Us Drag You Down
Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns Darry, Soda, Dally, Steve, Cherry, Marcia, Bob (if she wants him), and everyone else mentioned implicitly or explicitly. She's just that cool.
A/N: So I actually have never even considered writing an Outsiders fic before, but this one just sort of popped out. Please be kind, constructive criticism begged for. By the way, I'm hoping to open an Outsiders fanfiction archive site, so if anyone's interested in that (address, when it'll be up, can I submit?, etc.) just let me know at gotobedmyway.com Thanks, and enjoy!
I'm a greaser.
I can' t live with it and I don't like it, but it's what I am.
And greasers don't get the good girls, with smooth faces and who turn up their noses at beer. Nah, 'cause they turn their noses up at us instead.
Outta their league.
Outta their class.
And it really burns me up, y'know? Girls like Cherry and Marcia go to the DX because they think my brother is good-looking, but even if Soda is "a doll", they'd never date him.
Even when he was still in school, Socs would all hang off him and flirt and flip their hair, but they never gave him their number or anything.
Because he's a greaser.
It just ain't fair. Soda's funny, and good looking, but he gets stuck with greaser girls who smoke and cuss and cheat on their guys. Just ain't right.
I guess you're wondering why I'm telling you this, right?
I'm in college now. Darry's nagging finally paid off and I got a good scholarship to a good school. It's hard work, but I don't really mind. Inbetween classes I usually head to a diner a bit down the road that serves burgers leftover from George Washington's time, but all the college kids eat there, so I guess I do too. I fit in here, because no one cares where you went, just as long as you're going to their college, ya dig? Sometimes I feel like a traitor, because my brothers are still at home in the old neighborhood. Darry's still in the roofing business, and Soda's still at the gas station with Steve.
But today in class, this cute girl gave me her number and told me to call her sometime.
She's a nice little gal, with neat brown hair and wears a red sweater all the time. Real nice. Smart, too--I don't think she's ever gotten a grade below an A.
And walking to that joint down the road to pick up a Pepsi, I realized something.
That girl was the exact same kind that would flirt with Soda because he lived on the wrong side of the tracks, but never would let go of Daddy's money for him. Same exact kind that hung all over him at the gas station, but as soon as her boyfriend drove up in his Corvette didn't think about him twice.
And somehow I knew that if she knew I was a greaser, she would have just turned up her nose at me, just like the other girls did.
I thought about it. Darry had told me not to think about them. He said just forget about him and Soda and the gang, because I was something better, and I didn't deserve to be dragged down by them. He made me promise.
When I was done with my Pepsi, I threw it away. I hesitated, then tossed her number after it.