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When we came back, Ponyboy suggested we go see a movie at the drive-in. I wasn't really up for it, but Johnny said he wanted to go too and I didn't want to be alone.

It was one of those beach movies that have no plot except for girls in tiny bikinis and a whole lot of kissing.

Two-Bit showed up at some point and scared the living daylights out of Johnny by using a comb as a blade prop and saying "Hey, Greaser," in a gruff voice. Poor guy, Two-Bit knew better than that.

We were about 45 minutes in when I said I was going to get popcorn. Johnny came with me while Ponyboy saved our seats. Two-Bit was too tipsy and too engrossed in the movie to notice us leaving.

We walked to the concession stand where there was a group of Socs—nothing unusual, but one of them, who was slender with dark brown hair, was drunk. Really drunk.

He was laughing about something he tried to explain through slurred speech when he spotted me and stumbled over. "Hey, baby," he said, leaning against the wall and almost falling, "you wanna come over tonight? We can do whatever you want,"

"I would like you to leave me alone," I snapped.

"Woah, girl, I was just tryna be nice," his speech was so slurred it was almost incoherent.

"Watch it, wise guy," Johnny warned, but the guy ignored him and tried pushing me against a wall.

"C'mon baby, it's just you and me. We can have so much fun," he laughed drunkenly.

"Get off of me!" I said as I fought against him.

Johnny pulled him away from me by the collar of his shirt and glared at him. His eyes were burning with rage. I was again shocked and pleasantly surprised by this side of him I never knew he had.

"Don't you dare put your hands on her, pal!" Johnny said.

The Soc got up in his face in a mocking way. "Whatcha gonna do about it, buckaroo?" He sang as if reciting a lullaby, laughing at his own remark.

I was afraid they were going to get into a fight (not that Johnny couldn't beat him, the guy was a shot away from blackout drunk) until another Soc came up. He had real curly strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes and was wearing slacks and a ski jacket. I think I had seen him around school somewhere, but I couldn't place him.

"What are you doing, man? You got a girlfriend and you're flirtin' with Greasers?" He looked really mad as he tried to reason with his friend.

The drunk Soc looked confused and thought for a second before looking at me, then Johnny, then his friend. "Oh, y-yeah you're right..." he said, patting the blonde-haired Soc's shoulder, "yeah, you're right, man. My bad..." he chuckled drunkenly before running out and yelling, "I'm coming Marilyn!"

I gave Johnny a look like what just happened?

"Lucky gal, huh?" I said with a short laugh. I meant to say it quietly enough for just Johnny to hear, but then the blonde-haired Soc looked at me. He chuckled.

"Yeah, well, wanna know who she is?"

I just looked at him. A Soc, a West side rich kid, talking to me and making casual conversation?

"He thinks he's dating Marilyn Monroe," he laughed and shook his head, "I swear, you can tell that guy your whole life story when he's drunk and he won't remember the first thing about you by tomorrow."

I chuckled. He seemed pretty genuine—his demeanor was softer and kinder than most Socs.

Then his face turned more serious. "I'm sorry about him," he said, putting his hands in his pockets, "I just don't like it when girls are treated like that. I just think, 'what if that was my sister?' Ya know?"

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