A/N: So I guess some of you guys didn't understand what I was going for with the last chapter. I was gonna leave to your imaginations, whether he lived or he died. But since ALL of you wanted another chapter, I said "Hell, why not?", so here it is. This one explains what happened to Sodapop. Hope you all enjoy and please please review!
AND there's more swearing in here, so just be warned.
Ducking out the front door while smiling to himself, Sodapop Curtis bounced down the steps and down the street. Boy, he and Steve were going to have some fun tonight. The Dingo was gonna be in full swing, beer and girls and cigarettes everywhere, and it would be one hell of a party. Soda rubbed his arms, maybe he should've brought a jacket or something.
According to Steve, some greaser kid had knifed a Soc this afternoon and gotten away with the guy's wallet and cigarettes. He was the guest of honor tonight. The Dingo was almost always a party, but having a reason to celebrate made it even crazier. Even if it was just a fight, it was sure as hell a good enough reason to get drunk and get crazy.
He was meeting Steve and Evie there, and Steve had promised there'd be lots of girls to flirt shamelessly with. Evie's friend Rachel was coming too, and Soda remembered that she had been awful pretty.
It wasn't a long distance from the house to end of the street and Sodapop then decided to acknowledge that he was being followed. He had heard it the moment he started walking, a low purr of an engine too new to belong to a greaser. Flicking the collar of his shirt up, Soda glanced out of the corner of his eye. A black, shiny Mustang was trailing him, keeping about a meter's distance. If the situation hadn't been what it was, Soda'd have turned around to admire just what a piece of work that car was.
Instead, he slouched his shoulders and shuffled down the road. It was getting darker out. The Mustang's lights flashed on and Soda's shadow fell into step beside him; his only company.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hoping he looked tough, really wanting to hide the fact that his hands were shaking awfully hard. His eyes looked around him for anything to use as a weapon, a bottle or a pipe, anything. The Mustang was speeding up, almost driving beside him now. He looked straight ahead with a set jaw, hoping he looked intimidating.
He heard the car stop. Four doors opened and slammed. Soda tried to stay cool, indifferent, all the while counting the pairs of shuffling feet, the number of menacing voices. He counted five. Shit.
"Well, what've we got here?" One of them drawled. Soda didn't turn to look at him. Another guy laughed, Soda wanted to punch him in the face.
"Looks like the grease that took Brad's wallet. The one that knifed him."
Soda's stomach dropped. The first guy considered this, then said: "You know, it does look like that scum."
The guy's friend laughed again. Sodapop felt hot.
The voices were getting closer. Soda froze in his spot. He sure wasn't as fast as Ponyboy and there was no way in hell he could outrun five guys with a car. He slouched more and bit on his lip, waiting for them to catch up with him. The guys walked agonzingly slow to where he was, and one guy got right up in his face, breathing all over him. Soda didn't blink; he stared coldly at the Soc in front of him.
The guy laughed. "Brad never told us it was some pretty boy. This'll almost be too easy."
Soda's fists clenched, but he didn't say a word. If he tried to deny anything, they wouldn't believe him. Even if they did, they'd still beat him up. There was no choice. So he just stood real straight and waited.
The second guy was talking again. "You pulled a pretty stupid move today, grease. Didya think you'd get away with it?" He had awfully crooked teeth and smelled like smoke. Soda didn't move, didn't speak.
"Mute or something, grease?
They tittered with laughter.
"Did you think you could fucking get away with it?"
Soda didn't answer. The guy was getting real mad.
"Answer me, you piece of lying shit."
The other guys stopped smiling, and malicious sneers replaced the smiles. Their eyes were getting wider, brighter, with the anticipation of jumping him. One guy, the first one, unconsciously brought his hand up to his pocket where Soda could see the outline of a blade. He gulped hard, keeping his eyes on that blade. Crooked Teeth was practically growling.
"I'll teach you a lesson for ever laying your greasy hands on Brad. You wanna die tonight, greaser?"
It was even darker out now. No one would see his body till morning. No one would hear him if he called for help. He was gonna die right here, at seventeen. Knowing he had little to lose here now, Soda decided to finally say something.
"Try it, fucker."
Crooked Teeth shook his head real slow, and a small smile pulled at his lips. The other guy flicked out his blade and it glinted in the light.
Slowly, they closed in on him.
I decided to leave out the graphic parts of the beating cause you all can imagine what happened from here. Please REVIEW!