The Outsiders Read Free Page B

something to say. I’m usually pretty quiet around people, even the gang. I changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally.”
    “Good behavior. Got off early.” Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. Everyone sat down to have a smoke and relax. A smoke always lessens the tension. I had quit trembling and my color was back. The cigarette was calming me down. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. “Nice-lookin’ bruise you got there, kid.”
    I touched my cheek gingerly. “Really?”
    Two-Bit nodded sagely. “Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough.”
    Tough
and
tuff
are two different words.
Tough
is the same as rough;
tuff
means cool, sharp—like a tuff-looking Mustang or a tuff record. In our neighborhood both are compliments.
    Steve flicked his ashes at me. “What were you doin’, walkin’ by your lonesome?” Leave it to good old Steve to bring up something like that.
    “I was comin’ home from the movies. I didn’t think . . .”
    “You don’t ever think,” Darry broke in, “not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you’ve always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade.”
    I just stared at the hole in the toe of my tennis shoe. Me and Darry just didn’t dig each other. I never could please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I
had
carried one. If I brought home
B
’s, he wanted
A
’s, and if I got
A
’s, he wanted to make sure they stayed
A
’s. If I was playing football, I should be in studying, and if I was reading, I should be out playing football. He never hollered at Sodapop—not even when Soda dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding. He just hollered at me.
    Soda was glaring at him. “Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain’t his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain’t his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons.”
    Soda always takes up for me.
    Darry said impatiently, “When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I’ll ask you—kid brother.” But he laid off me. He always does when Sodapop tells him to. Most of the time.
    “Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy,” Two-Bit said. “Any of us will.”
    “Speakin’ of movies”—Dally yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt—“I’m walkin’ over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?”
    Steve shook his head. “Me and Soda are pickin’ up Evie and Sandy for the game.”
    He didn’t need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn’t going to ask if I could come. I’d never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can’t stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.
    Darry sighed, just like I knew he would. Darry never had time to do anything anymore. “I’m working tomorrow night.”
    Dally looked at the rest of us. “How about y’all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you and Pony wanta come?”
    “Me and Johnny’ll come,” I said. I knew Johnny wouldn’t open his mouth unless he was forced to. “Okay, Darry?”
    “Yeah, since it ain’t a school night.” Darry was real good about letting me go places on the weekends. On school nights I could hardly leave the house.
    “I was plannin’ on getting boozed up tomorrow night,” Two-Bit said. “If I don’t, I’ll walk over and find y’all.”
    Steve was looking at Dally’s hand. His ring, which he had rolled a drunk senior to get, was back on his finger. “You break up with Sylvia again?”
    “Yeah, and this time it’s for good. That little broad was two-timin’ me again while I was in jail.”
    I thought of Sylvia and Evie and Sandy and Two-Bit’s many blondes. They were the only kind of girls that