𝘙𝘌𝘋 (The Outsiders) ·Sodapop Curtis· [Finished]

Chapter 3

"Here," Soda handed me a paper bag with onion rings inside. We were the two selected to get snacks while the others found seats up front. "Dally's bound to make a fool of himself. All he ever does is tie-down roping. He ain't ever do bull riding before, man. What makes him think today is that day?" Soda chuckled and held the tray of tater tots in his hand.

"I seen the bull he's getting. She ain't anything to cry about," we made our way back towards the seats. Ponyboy flagged us over.

"Steve talked to me about today, and he's gonna try to win you over while we're here. He says he's heard nothing else about that boy you like so he figures he has a shot. Don't let him try anything on you," we stepped down the bleachers. "And untie this shit," he pulled my tied flannel loose, so it was just a regular buttoned-up flannel. "And button those."

I rolled my eyes at him and when we got to our seats, I buttoned the top buttons like he asked. Two-bit reached over and put a cowboy hat on my head and Steve stared at me from the other end of the bench. I passed the onion rings down and stared at the dirt ring in front of us.

-

"Go Dally!" I cheered, watching the bull he was riding fling him back and forth. His hat blew off of him and the crowd went wild for this first-timer. He stayed on longer than any the rest of us expected, but of course, he was thrown to the ground and the bull went running in the other direction.

The crowd let out a big "ooh" and sat down. We all stayed standing and watched until Dally was able to stand up. He had to have assistance walking back to the gate but he seemed fine for the most part.

"Elle, I'm gonna go buy some stuff at the concessions, come with?" Steve stepped over everyone else and held his hand out to me. I glanced at him, glanced at the gang and stood up without taking his offered hand.

"Stevie," I sighed as I walked next to him slowly, "we talked about this..."

"If you like this guy so much how come we haven't seen him?" Steve used my shoulder as an armrest, "I know Sodapop doesn't know anything about this guy, I asked him."

"We're not dating, we're just uh like hooking up and stuff," I tucked my hair behind my ear and stood next to him in line. "Nothing serious..."

Steve smiled and shook his head, "okay, go ahead and tell me when you're ready to give up this little lie and tell me what's going on."

"I'm not lying, Stevie," I sighed and my palms started sweating, "you're one of my best friends though, and I don't know if I could ruin what we have if we did decide to start a relationship."

He didn't say anything else. He stepped up to the counter to order our food, we paid, got our stuff and went back to our seats. I sat back down next to Sodapop, and now this time Steve was also sitting next to me. Ever so often I would see out of the corner of my eye him starin' at me.

Sooner or later, we all got up to walk around the rodeo until Dal came to find us once he was all better and able to see clearly. I tagged along with Sodapop and Steve, they talked and goofed around, talked about normal guy stuff while I followed and acted like I wasn't pissed off every time Soda and Steve mentioned a girl.

"Hey," I turned around and a guy was now standing behind me, "how 'bout me and you get the hell outta here, doll."

I made a face at the teenager standing in front of me, then scoffed, "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on," he chuckled and slapped a wide grin across his face, "I'll be nice, I swear it."

"And I have a boyfriend," I warned. I glanced around and it seemed like Steve and Sodapop had wandered off already, probably not realizing I was stopped.

The boy glanced around and kissed his teeth, "oh yeah? Whereat, huh?"

"I-uh," I shook my head and glanced around for anyone I knew, "I don't know where he is at the moment-"

"Great, we can leave then," he interrupted me and took his keys out of his pocket.

"Get lost, Meyers," I heard Dallas grumble, "she told you she's not interested."

"Winston," the boy turned towards Dally and tilted his head, "don't lie, this innocent little thing ain't yours."

"That's because she's my girlfriend, like he said, get lost," Steve announced from behind me. I quickly turned around and Steve had his arms crossed, his tattoo being displayed by his lack of sleeves.

The teen eyed me up and down, then Steve and huffed, "y'all White Blades really are everywhere aren't you?" he eyed me once more, kissed his teeth and shook his head, "you ain't even a broad that's worth it." The boy walked away.

I looked at Steve and rolled my eyes, "seriously?"

He grabbed my wrist, "I just saved your ass, Elle. Jason Meyers is a Manpatt."

I ripped my wrist out of his grip and began walking away, "I don't even know who that is."

"The Manpatts?" He followed along with me and lowered his voice, "that tattoo you saw on his wrist? That's their sign. You see that tattooed on someone or see someone with that sign carved into a jacket, walk away."

I listened to Steve talk about this supposed dangerous group of greasers in our area. Of course, I know of the Manpatts, I just never talked to one before. He was describing a rose, that instead of red, was green, and it had blackthorns poking in between the petals.

"I don't get it, why should I be scared of them? They ain't no Social."

"They are the second-largest Bandas on the east side. Right after the Key Men, of course," he had to lean down as we walked so he could whisper closer to my ear, "you can't be messing with nobody."

I looked to my right and already spotted three members of the Key Men gang just walking around. They're real greasy. Some of us get away with talking to middle-class folks, but those Key Men don't play. They live on the most eastern side of Tulsa. Down by the junkyard and probably a twenty-minute walk from my neighborhood which is good.

He's right. Steve is. You do not mess with a Key Men. Automatically looking at one of em, you know who they are. They snarl. Their jeans are ripped to shreds and their leather jackets all have rips and tears. The girls wear tons of make-up that they steal for themselves, their hair is huge and damn are they slutty.

Their gang sign is a chipped key. Of course. It was drawn by the three original founders of the Key Men back in the 20s. The leader, as of now, is named Jeffery D'Lano. Full blood 50-year-old Italian man who was basically born into the gang. Once his father passed, he became gang leader. A good 80% of the Key Men gang is Italian. A lot of them are family or well-known friends from Italy way back when.

This large population of Italians is why a lot of us greasers call some gangs Bandas, or say things in Italian sometimes. Our people grew up always hearing the kids in our classes who's parents were Key Men, and spoke Italian, speak. So a very large amount of us understands some of the language to an extent. We do not associate with the Key Men but their language more or less makes us sound cool. Me and my brother are actually Italian because our grandmother came from Italy, but she was never apart of the Key Men. So I speak Italian more often, sometimes forgetting that not everyone can. At least the damned Socials don't know what the hell we're saying.