The Outsiders

Chapter 2

She smiled and her eyes showed that her mind was on something else.

"Johnny... he's been hurt bad sometime, hadn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Hurt and scared."

"It was the Socs," I said nervously. because there were plenty of Socs milling around and some of them were giving me funny looks, as if I shouldn't be with Cherry or something. And I don't talk about it either- cause Johnny was different since that day. But I started in talking a little faster than I normally do because I don't like to think about it either.

It was almost four months ago. I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple bottles and let me help work on the cars. I don't like to go on weekends because then there is usually a bunch of girls there flirting with Soda- all kinds of girls, Socs too. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. I never did, I kept noticing boys, expecialy Johnny.

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It was a warmish spring day with the clouds covering the sky, but it was getting chilly and dark by the time we started for home. We were walking because we had left Steve's car at the station. At the corner of our block there's a wide, open feild where we play football and hang out, and it's often a site for rumbles and fist fights.

Steve then picked up a jacket, " Looks like Johnny forgot his jacket." He slung it over his shoulder to take it to Johnny's house. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at it more carefully. There was a stain the color rust across the collar. He looked at the ground. There were some more stains on the grass. He looked up and across the field with a stricken expression on his face. I think we all heard the low moan and saw the dark motionless hump on the other side of the lot at the same time.

We were used to seeing Johnny banged up-his father clobbered him around alot, and although it made us madder than heck, we couldn't do anything about it. But those beatings had been nothing like this.

Johnny's face was cut up and bruised and swollen, and there was a wide gash from his temple to his cheekbone. He would carry that scar all his life. His white shirt was splattered with blood. I just stood there trembling with sudden cold. I thought he might he dead; surely nobody could be beaten like that and live. Steve closed his eyes for a second and muffled a groan as he dropped on his knees beside Soda.

Somehow the gang sensed what had happened. Two-bit was suddenly there beside me, and for once his comical grin was gone and his dancing grin was gone and his dancing grey eyes were stormy. Darry had seen us from our porch and ran toward us, suddenly skidding to a halt. Dally was there too, swearing under his breath, and turning away with a sick expression on his face. I wondered about it vaguely. Dally had seen people killed on the streets of New York's West Side.

Why did he look sick now?

"Johnny?" Soda lifted him up and held him against his shoulder. He gave the limp body a slight shake. "Hey Johnnycake."

Johnny didn't open his eyes, but there came a soft question. "Soda?"

Finally between sobs, Johnny managed to gasp out his story. He had been hunting for our football to practise a few kicks when a blue Mustang had pulled up beside the lot. There were four Socs in it. They had caught him and one of them had a lot of rings on his hand- that's what had cut Johnny up so badly.

It wasn't just that they had beaten hin half to death- he could take that. They had scared him. They had threatened him with everything under the sun. Johnny was high-strung anyway, a nevous wreck from getting belted everytime he turned around and from hearing his parents fight all the time.

Living in those conditions might have turned someone rebellious and bitter; it wad killing Johnny. He had never been a coward. He was a good man in a rumble. He stuck up for the gang and kept his mouth shut good around cops. But after the night of the beating, Johnny never walked out bu himself after that. And Johnny, who was the most law-abiding of us, now carried in his back pokect a six-inch switchblade.

He'd use it, too, if he ever got jumped again. They had scared him that much. He would kill the next person who jumped him. Nobody was ever going to beat him like that again. Not over his dead body.

I was pulled into Two-bit chest, facing away from Johnny, when he let out a loud scream.

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I had nearly forgotten that Cherry was listening to me.

But when I came back to reality and looked at her, I was startled to find her as white as a sheet.

"All Socs aren't like that," she said. "You have to believe me, Ponyboy. Not all of us are like that."

"Sure," I said .

"That's like saying all you greasers are like Dallas Winston. I'll bet he's jumped a few people."

Cherry no longer looked sick, only sad. "I'll bet you think the Socs have it made. The rich kids, West Side Socs.I'll tell you something Ponyboy, and it may come as a surprise," she looked at me. "Things are rough all over."

We went back to sit down, I sat between Two-bit and Johnny. Johnny yawned and stretched and his hand was on my shoulder.