trapped in a soda can (sodapop x reader)

Must be Some Guy

At first, I was mortified. I had read in just about every single nature related magazine that Oklahoma was notorious for their tornadoes, and I was not planning on dying in a whirl of air. After a while, my initial reaction wore off. I brought myself to think of the benefits; new friends, a new house with a ceiling that might have more dots and of course, the refreshing cleanse of my self image.

So we packed. Did some paperwork. Sold the house. My friends cried on my last day of school, but I did nothing more but smile and give the insincere promise of mailing them letters or calling them on the phone. Although we were to the average eye, "friends" they treated me more as a rebound, only coming to me when their other friends left them in the dust. I grew some sort of resentment towards the group for this, yet still found myself wishing to be a part of their world.

The drive to Tulsa was quite breathtaking; valleys outstretched over the brown earth, gasoline stations with bright lights that glew comfortably at night. Instantly, sights outside my window outshone the dots on the ceiling.

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When we arrived at our new home, I felt more than content with what we had. It was cozy, painted a pretty tint of blue on the outside with brown shingles. The inside was even better, a short flight of stairs and three bedrooms at the top, which I found useful, being an only child. There were two bathrooms, one upstairs and one by the living room. It was wonderful.

I shouldn't have spoken. Of course, something would roll around, and that "something" was school.

After settling in and such, my parents sent me off to the nearby highschool. I was excited to make new friends and start off a new reputation, so I wore my favorite pleated skirt and my prettiest collared shirt and went to school. Upon five minutes of leaving my house, every bit of eagerness I felt drained away, as a blue mustang pulled up beside me.

"Hey baby, you headed off to school?" asked what seemed like Tulsa's Mr. Popular. He sat in the driver's seat, pushing back his blonde curls.

"Yep," I replied curtly, attempting to walk quicker.

"I ain't seen your face at our school. You go to the one nearby?"

I turned and nodded, not really wanting to talk to a group of teenage boys this early in the morning. They had a sort of vibe I didn't want to be around.

"You must be new." Another one rolled down his window, dark hair combed in a way that he resembled a rock star; or an ape.

School was just around the corner, so I attempted to wave politely and sprinted off to the doors.

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Sadly, the day didn't get any better for me. I had made friends, but they were the most shallow people I've ever met. They told me about their riches and such, only caring about getting laid by some hot dude or the latest fashion trends. All I could do was smile and go along with it, since I knew nobody else and they were the only people willing to talk to me.

I'd come to know about the social structure they had built around here; rich Socs and poor Greasers, with a not too rich but not too poor class stuck in between. I suppose I was in that "in between" class, but my appearance was good enough to make me part of the Socs. I found this social class silly at first, but then grew to find it more STUPID rather than silly, after seeing some Greasers give me a side eye during class exchange.

"They're just jealous," my "friend" Tiff would say.

But I thought that maybe they felt just as disgusted by the shallow Socs as I was, and decided to befriend one once I got the chance.

The first week of school rolled by quickly, and I soon found myself thrown across the couch watching the ceiling as my mother cooked some sort of delight.

"Why don't you go out sweetie? Grab a snack or something."

Seeing that I had nothing else to do, I set out to this place I saw nearby, called the Dingo. It was lively and reeked of teenagers, so I threw myself in and ordered a milkshake.

My solitude at the table was delightful, the taste of sweet milk hugging my tongue as I observed the life around me. I was on my last sip when the most real group popped in, and I locked eyes with what I can only describe as a god. Blonde hair, dancing eyes, a face as symmetrical as a butterfly's wings. I felt as if I were in a movie, an extra, while he was the star.

One of his buddies shook him, and we broke eye contact.

"Soda!" he said, slinging an arm around him. "You're paying, right?"

After that day, I could only think of the name "Soda" during my ceiling fascinations.

first few chapters r a lil mid but it gets more decent i promise