Cut My Lip

Two

Fast forward four years. Me and Dally actually had friends. There was Ponyboy, who was fourteen and pretty tall for his age. He resembled Paul Newman quite a bit, and had hazel eyes and reddish-blondish hair.

There was Johnny, who was sixteen. He had dark skin and dark hair, which he didn't typically grease back. He was quiet and short and always seemed like he was on edge. Not that I blamed him.

Then there was Sodapop, who was nearly seventeen. He was bright and lively, and had gold colored hair that he slicked back. He was real handsome.

Steve was a month older than Soda, and had blondish-brown hair with he always combed in complicated swirls.

There was Two-Bit, who was eighteen and a half and still went to high school just for kicks.

Finally, there was Darrel, but we all called him Darry. He was twenty years old and was working two jobs. He didn't keep his dark brown hair long like most greasers. He was strong and muscular, and the handsomest out of the group.

But I didn't have a chance with Darry, not in a million years. Especially not since I'd had multiple people tell me I was scary, threatening, and emotionless.

That's what prison does to you, dumbass. It makes you hard and unfeeling. And that's how I like it.

People usually mistook my apathy for anger, but I never was angry. That's just not who I am. I'm just quiet, thinking, planning.

Dally on the other hand- he was the angry one. He killed and stole for fun. He did things simply because he could.

We were still close, and even though we'd been in Tulsa for four years, neither of us had a house. Darry let us stay at their place whenever, but I felt bad staying more than once a month.

"You thinkin' too much again, Annie?" Dally asked, offering me a cigarette.

I sighed and accepted it. "Yeah, guess so."

"That's why you get so stressed out, you know." He said wisely, and I shook my head.

"Nah." I took a drag of the cigarette and leaned my head back against the brick wall of the bakery. My head was aching something fierce, and I was starved. "I'm headin' by Darry's. I need some damn aspirin."

I usually left my car parked on their neighborhood, since the crime rate on their block was low.

I lake to their house and opened the door to see Soda and Steve.

They both stopped and looked at me.

"... are those my stilettos?"

"The six inches, yes. Mind your business." Soda said coolly.

"How did you get my heels?"

"I picked the lock on your trunk." Steve replied.

I opened my mouth to reply, but closed it and went to their bathroom and grabbed the bottle of aspirins. I dumped a few in my hand and went back to the living room. "Put my heels back where they were, I'm goin' out tonight and Sandy's helpin' me get ready."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." Steve mock-saluted me and I rolled my eyes.

"Darry'll be jealous." Soda singsonged.

"What? What's that s'posed to mean?" I stopped just before I was fully through the door, and he just shrugged. I chalked it up to it being one of Soda's antics and left.

He couldn't have meant that Darry liked me, could he? That's plain ridiculous. No one could ever really like me for anything more than a hookup.