I was on my way home from the Dingo, and it was starting to get dark. Usually, I wouldn't walk home by myself when it's dark out, but I only lived a few blocks away. It was a cold November night, and I shivered a little when the fall breeze blew past me. There were leaves rustling around on the ground, and they looked like mini tornadoes the way the swirled in circles. As I was walking, I saw two headlights in front of me, and it appeared to be a red mustang. 'Socs' I said to myself. I began to get a bit nervous, because I have heard stories from Johnny about Greasers getting jumped by Socs. Johnny was also a Greaser and happened to be my best friend. We shared a few classes together, and he always told me about him wanting me to meet the 'Gang.' As the car slowly came closer, I turned around and started running through the field near the park. I ran faster when I heard the car door slam, and running footsteps behind me. I ran for what seemed like forever, until I was attacked from behind. "Thought you'd get away, huh?" A voice threatened into my ear. I recognized the voice, and knew that it was Bob, and he was drunk. Bob was the main Soc, and was also the one that jumped Johnny, leaving a scar across his face. He was sitting on top of me, and pulled out a blade. I struggled to get away, but it was no use. He took the blade, and dragged it across my cheek. I winced in pain, but promised myself that I wouldn't cry. "Let's have a little fun." He whispered seductively into my ear. He grabbed my shirt and tried to pull it off. "Never!" I said, and spat in his face. Anger grew across his face, and he grabbed my shoulders, and threw my back against the ground, making my head slam on the cold, hard street. I looked up, and my vision started getting blurrier by the second. I couldn't see Bob, but I did see someone else.
Later that night, you hear someone in the house. Thankfully Dally heard it too and he was wide awake. He quickley gets out of bed as you follow. You creep down the hallway and peek around the corner.
"Go back to the room," He says as you do what he instructed
You sit on the bed,praying that everythings okay.
Soon, you hear shots from a gun.
Then silence
With the money that I would have gone to college with, and with what Ponyboy had saved, we had bought Soda his horse.
Soda came in, in his plaid shirt and jeans. His jaw dropped. Then he smile brighter than the sun.
He walked over to horse.
“Hey buddy,” he says, smiling, petting his nose.
“It took forever to get him to listen,” Ponyboy said.
“Yeah, I got myself and ornery pony.” Soda grins.
“You happy?” You ask Soda.
He just looks at you, smiles and nods his head.
“Yes. I am 100% serious.” He says, grinning.
“You’re joking.”
“No I’m not.” He laughs.
“Yes you are.”
“Come on (Y/N).”
“Fine.” You say.
You take the beer from his hand and chug it down.
“There.. Are you happy with my chugging skills?” You ask.
You had gotten tired of the New Years Party you were at, so you decided to have your own; complete with balloons, champagne, dancing, and the life of the party.
“This is fun,” you laugh as you look up to him.
“Yeah,” he laughs, as he dips you.
“Careful of the champagne, babe.”
“Sorry… Just trying to make things classy.” He laughs.
“You kidding me? This is some high class shit!” You laugh.
He glances at the clock.
“It’s 11:59,” he grins.
“Time for our New Year’s kiss,” you grin as you lean in.
“Not yet!” He yells, moving your face away. “It isn’t midnight yet!”
You laugh, then glance at the clock.
“Well, we missed it.” You pout. “It’s 12:01.”
“Looks like we have to wait a whole nother year.”
He pauses for a second, thinking.
“You.” He finally answers, smiling.
“That’s not one thing.” You roll your eyes and giggle.
“Yes it is. You are you. Without certain things, you wouldn’t be you. If you’re pretty eyes weren’t (eye color), you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t snort when you laugh, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t randomly burst into song, you be you.
If you weren’t nice and sweet and funny, it wouldn’t be (Y/N). The (Y/N) I know, love and adore.” He smiles as he kisses you on the cheek.
“Really?” You ask.
“Really.”
“Really really?”
“Really really.”
“Johnny how do you think this looks?” You ask, holding up a black dress to you.
“How am I supposed to know?” He groans as he leans on one of the shelves of the department store.
“Well, would I look good in it?” You ask, twirling the dress around.
“You’d look good in any clothes, honey.” He smiles at you.
“Any clothes?” You ask, scrunching your nose.
“But you also look good in no clothes, if that’s what you want to know,” he grins at you like a little kid. “So could you hurry up so I could see my favorite outfit on you?”