Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any Outsiders' character.
1979 –Ponyboy's point of view
As I drove home from work one overcast Monday afternoon, all I could think about was Star Trek. I had recently started watching the 60's show and liked it more than I thought I would. There was a marathon starting in fifteen minutes and I wanted to hurry home so that I could catch it when it started. I hoped no one in the gang, especially Two-Bit, ever found out. Two-Bit was known to endlessly make fun of people he suspected were Trekkies.
Suddenly the wail of a patrol car siren started behind me and I eagerly looked around for the sucker who was getting pulled over. Oh crap, it was me.
"What the heck?" I wondered. I checked the speedometer. I as going the speed limit! Okay, 5ish miles over, but that shouldn't be enough to get pulled over. I looked around, but there was no stop sign in sight.
Resigned, I pulled over and began to rummage through the glove compartment for my registration. License and the registration in hand, I cranked my window down. My car was a piece of junk. I had a hunch that the window wouldn't roll back up just to spite me. Because if cars have a sense of humor, mine was the Jack Benny among vehicles. Aka: comical and cheap.
I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror and then rolled my eyes in exasperation. My dear brother, Sodapop Curtis, swaggered up to my window, his hand placed cockily on his holster.
"Well, well…It's another damn hood who thinks that he's all that," he sneered as he came up to my window. "Planning to go to a rave tonight and get high? Well not on my watch, you white trash!"
"Actually, you're keeping me from a night of chilling in front of the tube." Just don't ask me what I'm watching, I thought.
"A likely story! Couldn't come up with anything better? Too busy playing with your whores to come up with an alibi to tell the coppers?"
"Are you done yet?" I asked plainly.
"I'll ask the questions around here you low life, bootlicking, party hopping piece of slime." I leaned my head back and pretended to sleep during his little tirade.
"Okay, I'm done now," he said.
My eyes popped open. "Is that what you pulled me over to tell me, what a half wit, low-life scum I am? I bet Steve told you what to say." I twisted around in my seat to wave at Steve Randall, who was sitting in the cop car. He was kicked back in the seat with his feet up on the dash and reading the Tulsa-Tribune-Herald.
I didn't hate Steve the way I used to. One day out of nowhere it was like we had both grown up. We were both adults and didn't really care about childhood rivalries. Besides, I had been busy with school and he was too busy with Evie.
Out of the blue when Steve was eighteen and Evie was seventeen, she informed him that she was pregnant. Nine months later they were married with a son. The marriage was far from happy though and a year later they separated and filed for divorce. The day before the papers were supposed to be filed baby number two was discovered. So now the two of them were trapped in a loveless marriage with two kids.
"No, Steve, Officer Randall to you young man, did not tell me what to say. I can see for myself that you are a troubled young man."
Me, Darry, and everybody we knew had the shock of our lives when Soda decided at age twenty-three that he wanted to be a police officer. Apparently he didn't want to spend the rest of his life working minimum wage at a car shop. So he got his GED, went to Police Academy, and at age twenty-five was certified into the Tulsa Police department.
Steve, who had a family to support, followed in his footsteps a year later. I suspect that he mostly did it to get away from his family and spend more time with his best friend.
Now they are partners and have the time of their lives. I know that they are way harsher on socs ticket wise than they are on fellow greasers. And they usually worked in the next county over, so getting their friends into trouble had not been much of a problem yet.
"Actually," Soda was saying, "I was on my way home with ice cream when me and Steve got dispatched to the next town over for a little crowd control. A couple of small tornadoes knocked down a couple power lines and the wall of a barn. So now I gotta go direct traffic for a couple of hours."
He sighed dramatically. I swear he should have gone into acting. He certainly already had the looks to be a famous actor. "So now, I don't have time to go home and drop the ice cream off before it melts. Then, as if it were fate, I saw your dinky little junk bucket and knew what to do- Give it to you!"
He went to the patrol car and came back with a gallon of double chocolate chunk. Taking it from him, I said dryly, "Boy howdy. I sure deserve ice cream after what I just went through."
Soda laughed and messed up my hair. "Drive carefully baby bro."
He walked back to his car. I quickly leaned over to roll my window back up. I groaned. Just as I had suspected, the handle was jammed.
Soda's patrol car shot around me and zoomed up to way over the speed limit. Soda always said the coolest thing about being a cop was that you could speed all the time and you would never get in trouble.
I gave up on the window and prayed it wouldn't start raining until I got to the parking garage of my apartment.
Yes! Yes! Yes! I mentally cheered ten minutes later when I pulled into the parking garage the moment rain began to drizzle down.
This was my lucky day: Except for the window thing, I got ice cream, out of the rain, and a close parking spot was open.
With more gratification than was probably necessary, I pulled into my lucky spot. I grabbed the stack of papers needing to be graded and jumped out of the car. Or at least I would have jumped if my pants didn't catch on a loose staple of the seat. So in reality I half jumped/half fell out of the car. I did manage to keep the papers from spilling onto the dirty concrete. I stood up and casually looked around to make sure that nobody saw. Nobody had.
After double checking to make sure the car door was locked I continued on to the building. It was pretty redundant since my window was wide open, but it was a habit since I didn't live in the safest area. My apartment building is infamous for its large amount of car jackings and burglaries. Darry had been on me to move forever, but it as all I could afford. I was almost positive my car would be safe though because car jackers have higher standards than to steal my piece of junk.
7-6-3-0-5. I punched in the building code that would let me in. I walked in and headed to the stair well because the elevator was indefinitely broken.
Two-Bit, Soda, Darry, and Steve were all doing great in life (especially Darry), but my life wasn't too shabby either.
I had graduated from high school at the top of my class when I as seventeen. A scholarship had paid for my tuition and books, and money from grants, Darry, and my part time job had covered living expenses. When I graduated with my bachelor's I worked as a press assistant at the Tulsa-Tribune-Herald and free lanced articles for an agriculture journal while I worked on my Masters degree in English. I got my Masters at age twenty-three with a relatively small debt thanks, once again, to scholarships, grants, my job, and a little help from Darry. When I had received my Masters, Tulsa Community College contacted me with a job offer. So now I taught English at the community college with a morning class from 9-11 and an afternoon class from noon to two. This semester they had also roped me into teaching poetry interpretation form 2:30-3:45.
I finished climbing the five flights of stairs and reached my apartment. I opened my door and was shocked by what I saw.
There lay Two-Bit sprawled on the floor with his eyes glued to the TV. That's not the shocking part though. The opening theme of star Trek blared onscreen.
"I don't believe it. You're a trekkie!" I exclaimed from the doorway.
Two-Bit actually had the decency to look embarrassed. "I though you weren't going to be home until 5," he accused.
"Yeah, but my poetry class got out early because they had a quiz and could leave." I walked over to my cluttered desk shoved in the corner of the living room. "Don't you have your own apartment?" Two-Bit lived in the same building three floors below me.
"My fridge is empty," he defended himself.
I plopped down into an easy chair I had gotten cheap a garage sale. This was the perfect opportunity to watch star Trek without actually admitting that I watch it anyway.
"I guess I'll watch it too. I have nothing better to do," I said casually. I should have stopped there while I was ahead. But noo… I had to go on and say, "Oh, this episode isn't that great. The one after it should be tuff though."
Two-Bit turned and looked at me disbelievingly. I realized my mistake too late. I never learned how to use my head. "I would guess. I wouldn't really know for sure," I finished lamely.
Two-Bit burst into laughter. "This whole time," he gasped between laughs. He couldn't finish what he was going to say he was laughing so hard.
"You don't even know what you're laughing at you've had so much to drink."
He stood up. "Oh yes I do." He walked to the kitchenette and came back with three beers. He tossed one to me and kept two for himself. Even though I put back a few not and again, on my best drinking day I couldn't keep up with Two-Bit. "If you hadn't caught me I would so be making fun of you right now," he said.
"Thanks a lot Buddy," I said sarcastically.
We agreed that the rest of the gang didn't need to know about this before we settled down to watch the marathon for the rest of the night. We both completely ignored the weather warnings about next week that kept sliding across the top of the screen.
Okay guys, this is a test chapter to see if people like the story. The action won't come until later. Be brutally honest about what you think. If I do continue on with this story, chapter 2 will catch up with Darry's and Two-Bit's lives and set up the plot more. Now press the little purple button and tell me what you think. (That's an order! Please?)