I don't own them.
Some of us never cry at all. Like Dally and Two-Bit and Tim Shepard--they forgot how at an early age.
I didn't like the Socs. I don't think any Greaser in their right mind actually likes them, but I hate them. They shouldn't go around jumping people, ganging up on them, and they definitely shouldn't go after the youngest ones.
I heard about the Curtis kid getting jumped. Dally was real wound up about that, came over yesterday around noon saying that he got picked up by the cops because they thought that he knifed some Soc. I had already heard about that. I think he was more upset about those kids going missing. Dal has a real soft spot for Cade.
And the Socs didn't stop there. I heard through the grapevine that another one of his gang got jumped, and he wasn't doing to good either. They just don't have the best of luck.
But we're getting hurt pretty bad over here too. I was at work when this kid from my gang, Nicko, comes running in and says I'd better come with him and something about Curly, so I started running.
I found Curly two blocks away from the bar (A/N: I think Tim works in a bar), real cut up and bruised. He was unconscious too, his eyes swollen shut. I checked him over, trying to remember to breathe as I looked for anything bad enough to kill him.
Nicko was already kneeling next to him and shook him to see if he'd wake up. I dragged his hand away, "Are you nuts? You could kill him doing that!" my voice was higher then I'd planned it to be, and Nicko must have seen something in my eyes because he backed away from Curly real quick.
Now it was my turn to kneel next to my brother. I was cursing the Socs with everything I had. Why did they always go for the small ones? Curly was barely fifteen, and was a great fighter, but if the Socs had ganged up on him, he probably didn't have a chance.
It wasn't until I put my hands out to try to help him that I realized I was shaking. Curly still wasn't moving, and his chest wasn't rising with his breath. He could be dead. Looking over the wounds again, I decided that he should be dead. God, my brother should be dead. Those Socs had better watch out.
Finally, I managed to get my hand steady enough to get an accurate pulse. Way too slow, barely there. He needed a hospital, now, and that I could give him.
I picked him up (no neck injuries, thank God), cradling him in my arms. Too small. He was always too small. I looked him over, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the broken bones. At least two ribs were broken, along with his arm, which was dangling near his side at an awkward angle.
I tried not to jostle him as I walked towards my car. Still, he hadn't woken up, and I had my fingers to his neck constantly, feeling his pulse become weaker. We had left behind a large puddle of blood.
It was only in the car that he stirred. I was in the back with him, Nicko was driving like a mad man. He groaned as he woke up, not opening his eyes. "Tim?"
"Yeah." I breathed out, glad that he had woken up at last. I was about to say something else to him when he passed out again.
He had to stay overnight at the hospital. I told Nicko to drive me to the Curtis's house. Maybe Dally would be there. We had to do something about this, or there'll be no kids left.