Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

08. Friends In High Places

"A LITTLE MESSED UP BUT WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT." - Kenney Chesney (American Kids)

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"I'm not cheating!" Ponyboy yelled out. The families around us glanced over their shoulders, sending cold glares to the two greaser kids playing rock, paper, scissors. I glared right back at them between rolling my eyes at Pony and dodging Momma's hand before she could slap my shoulder. "You've been cheating the last five rounds," I reminded him. That's when Pony rolled his eyes at me, and it took all my self-control not to send him flailing down the bleachers, all the way to the football field.

We were in the middle of the third inning -- I think. Football had always been Darry's thing, especially when Coach Henry decided he would be the perfect addition to their team. Momma and I didn't understand it much, it just looked like a bunch of guys tacking each other to the ground and tryna to keep their skulls intact long enough for the next season. Sodapop and Ponyboy, though? They worshipped the ground our brother walked on and did everything in their power for a little bit of attention. So if it meant sitting up in the ninth row on cold metal bleachers in late November? They'd do it in a heartbeat and drag me along for the ride. I guess it wasn't all bad though. Being a senior in high school, the only thing Darry had to look forwards to were a bunch of final exams and football. He seemed pretty excited when we told him we'd come, especially when he mentioned Momma and Daddy could finally put a face to the name Donna Micheals.

I knew she was blonde, and a cheerleader, and drove a red corvette she probably got for her sixteenth birthday. Besides that, I was as clueless as Sodapop tryna do long division. I figured she was one of the girls waving to the boys on the field, hair tied back in ribbons and hands full with blue pom-poms. Still, I was too far away and had no idea what she actually looked like. I decided elbowing Ponyboy in the side and preparing for our eighth round of rock, paper, scissors was gonna be the most interesting thing that happened to me today, but my brothers really like proving me wrong. Sodapop's foot knocked against my shoulder just as I was about to start the game. I looked over my shoulder to face him, he sat on the bench above us with our parents. With a smile and a coin between his thumb and pointer finger, he said "c'mon, I want something to drink."

My brothers raced down the rickety steps, shaking the bleachers as they did so. I followed as close as I could -- which really isn't that close when your legs are half frozen, the stairs are shaking, and you're tryna make sure the twelve-year-old doesn't run into some Soc's fist. Fortunately, by the grace of God, we managed to get to the grass in one piece. Just as my feet slammed against the frozen earth, the crowd erupted into cries of triumph and defeat. The clapping, shouting, and yelling all merged together into one horrible symphony as Sodapop stood in front of me, pointing between us and the players on the field. I could see his lips moving and his eyes light up excitedly, but I couldn't make out a word of it. Ponyboy stayed close to us -- thank you, Jesus -- his eyes bright with childish wonder. Normally, that would've been great, but as I looked around a little more, all I saw were knit sweaters, ski jackets, and collard shirts. Socs watching us just as closely as they once watched the game. Instead of trying to make sense of what my brother was saying, I grabbed onto Ponyboy's shoulder before doing the same to Sodapop and pushed them towards the gym doors.

A hop, skip, and a jump away, the ancient machines stood like statues beside the massive gym doors of Will Rodgers High. Sodapop pushed himself out of my grip as soon as the machines came into view and fixed the collar of his blue flannel shirt I had -- very rudely, obviously -- ruined. Ponyboy on the other hand just kinda went limp in my hand and let me drag him around like a rag doll. I guess watching guys beat each other up for two hours can do that to a person. "Y'all okay with coke?" Sodapop called, breaking the silence.