West Side Born, East Side Raised- Dallas Winston Fanfiction

Prologue

It was a warm summer night, a Sunday night. One of those nights you didn't need a jacket for, it wasn't too humid, wasn't too cold, it was just right...

"That's it I've fucking had it with those bastards!" I yelled.

The park was empty, quiet and cold. Tim and Dallas sat up on the top of the old picnic table. The three of us started out in around when I was in fourth grade. A good six years ago. I lost my shit on this kid at school and Tim thought I wasn't half bad. A half year later Dallas shows up from New York living with foster parents. Since fourth grade on I've half assed being a juvenile delinquent. Sure I've broken some laws here and there. Who hasn't? Sure I've fucked some people but in this town I doesn't matter who you are, odds are you aren't cherry pie. Everyone gave me a hard time of course, me having a Socs background and still living with my money loaded parents and older brother Danny. Dallas has always been a special pain in the ass when it came to that.

"So what's makin' you say that money bags?" Dallas said slouched over.
"Trust me pal, you don't know half the shit" I said grimly. No one knew half the shit, and no one ever would.
"It's retarded, and you know what fuck them!" I yelled.
"That'a be Jane!" Tim encouraged. "They can shove their money up their asses!" I said gritting my teeth.
"About time don't you think? It's only been six years" Dallas said.
"If I remember right you were worse when you were ten" I said.

Boy howdy was he ever. When we all met I was the youngest out of us, and a Socs, and a girl. Being the youngest is self explanatory me nine, Dallas at a decade and Tim at eleven. Being a Socs is obvious. But being a girl was a burden. Couldn't play sports, couldn't do much. There's another girl. Jody Mackey. She's Tim's girlfriend. She was around with us then too. She and I both liked sports, and Tim and Dallas would throw the ball with us. Point is, can't do jack shit without a comment from the peanut gallery.

Sodapop Curtis and Steve Randal. They're buddies of mine too, since about third grade give or take I basically lived at their houses. Their parents were nice. Their parents didn't yell at them unless they really fucked up. I just wanted out of my house, I still do want out and I'm getting out first thing tomorrow morning. I know it sounds stupid. Why leave the money right? Well, there's a few reasons, and trust me when I say not every Socs has the glamours life inside and out.

The next morning I told my mother I was leaving. My father was at work, in reality fucking his co-worker, while my mother stayed home, doing nothing. We had a lady that cleaned and cooked. She just sat either in front of the TV or at the dinning room table. She didn't do paperwork or anything at the table, read the paper sometimes, most of the time reading stupid magazines. However this morning she was curing and swearing. She was playing the victim and I'll let her. I didn't care, I wasn't going to be around to listen.

"After all your father and I have done for you!" She cried out from the dinning room table. Haven't heard that line before. I didn't say anything more. I just got up and walked too school.

Danny pulled up beside me in his Chevy not long after I had started walking.

"Ooh what a rebel!" He teased driving slowly along side me.
"You stickin'?" I asked.
"Gotta, can't leave the money. I ain't got the guts" he frowned looking ahead.
"I can't wait till the press comes to interview me. My moment of fame has come!" Danny cried out in a dramatic movie star way.
"You enjoy it. Consider it an early birthday present" I smiled.
"You're really leaving?" He asked more serious.
"To hell with it. I don't really know what I'm doing to be honest, I just feel better. You dig?" I asked.
"I guess" he sighed.
"Shall we make a statement now?" He asked.
"Might as well, get them talking" I said.
"See you around bum!" He grinned before speeding off.

What did I get myself into? Not too sure. Will I stay afloat? Not too sure. But I feel better, so something has to be right.