Golden Greaser

- 6 -

     "I know it ain't none of my business," Sodapop begins, his tone soft, as if I were a small child. "But may I ask why you need a doctor?" 

     "Yeah, are you sick?" Steve asks promptly, coming up beside me as we walk down the sidewalk. "You don't look like you're ailing too bad."

    "No, I'm not sick. But...someone in my family is." I answer, feeling a little awkward in between the two boys. 

     "Oh..." Sodapop looks down at the sidewalk. "Man, I wish I could've remembered where his office was..."

    I didn't say anything else, because by the way his voice got low I could tell he felt bad about it. 

     Although I was still a little hesitant towards trusting the duo, there was just something about them that told me they were alright. 

    "So are ya'll friends or brothers?" I ask, walking in between the two greasers that stood about a foot taller than me.

    "Friends." Sodapop laughs. "I don't know what we'd do if we were brothers..."

    "Prolly get busted and thrown in the cooler like ole' Dally." Steve juts in, laughing to himself. 

    "Who's Dally?" I ask.

    "One of our buddies in the gang..." Steve answers, beginning to walk backwards. "Gets in trouble a lot with the fuzz." 

     I felt a quick pang of uncertainty well up inside of me for second before I just told myself that we all lived in the same neighborhood, and we all had friends that weren't exactly the best influences. 

    "Almost there..." Sodapop says as we round a street corner.

     I nod, watching the houses getting more rundown and the sidewalk began to have more cracks in it.

    The wind picks up a bountiful breeze of yellow, orange, and red leaves, causing them to swirl at our ankles. 

    I see Steve begin to shiver out of the corner of my eye, him wrapping his lone DX uniform around him more tightly as the breeze continues to blow.

    "Cold?" Sodapop smirks, twirling the toothpick around his lips. 

    "I'm just fine." Steve retorts, glaring at him.

     I roll my eyes at the sound of them, but still found myself smiling at the two friends.

      We cross the street to the other sidewalk, nearing a white house closer to the end of the road. A wired fence surrounded its perimeter, with a small front porch that was held up by two deals of decorative metal.

    It looked about like what our house looked like, so I didn't see any problem with it.

   "Here we are," Sodapop says, displaying his hands to portray the house. "It's not much, but it's something."

     I take another look at the house.

    He opens the gate, allowing me to step in first. Then, himself and Steve follow, although both reach the porch before I do. 

    I notice how they just open the front door, no lock or no key. They just push it open, awaiting me behind the door with two grins on their faces.

     Stepping inside the house, I slowly walk through the small foyer. What sounds like a TV is coming from another room, and it smelled like chocolate cake and feet. 

     Steve and Soda step ahead of me, leading the way into the living room.

     "Oh, hey Two-Bit!" Steve says, walking over the guy sitting on the floor, drinking out of a beer bottle. "How's it going?"