Look, I didn't wanna be a greaser.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, close the book right now. Just keep believing whatever your mom and dad told you about your social class, and try to live a normal life.

Being a greaser is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you're like a soc or middle class or somethin, and you're reading this cause you think it's fiction, read on. I envy you for being able to believe none of this ever happened.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Percy Curtis. I'm twelve years old. I'm a greaser living in Tulsa with my three older brothers; Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy. They're all big and tuff and scary. They've got their handsome greased-back hair and steel-like bands of muscle. Not that I don't have muscle; I do. But I must say, I fight a considerable amount less than they do. My hair is jet black and untamable; you can try and grease it, but it'll just end up a wild sticky mess. My eyes are a tealish ocean kinda green-blue. But I wish they were more blue. My skin's so tanned, a lot of people mistake me for a surfer dude. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to be called anything but a greaser. The truth is, I've only been to the beach once in my life; my parents won a family trip to Miami in a raffle when I was eight. I loved the ocean. It just felt right. When we had gotten back, my parents bought me a shampoo that made my hair smell like the ocean; they said that even though I might not be able to visit the beach every day, I can always have its comforting aura around me.

I also dig Greek Mythology, which is what got me here in the first place, writing this, right now.

Mr. Brunner was my English teacher, but also did walking tours of the Ancient World exhibit at the Meuseum of Natural History. (Which was ironic because he was confined to a wheelchair.) There were always a lot of socs and middle class on these walking tours. It only costs a quarter for an afternoon, so every Saturday at noon, my gang knew exactly where I was. None of them ever came; they don't dig this stuff the way I do. The only greaser I know who comes close is my brother Ponyboy, but he'll dose off at about five minutes in. I'm actually glad about that; when I go to the Meuseum I like to be close to the artifacts and feel like I was actually there when the thing was created. I can't do that with most of the gang; I'd have to keep one eye on them to make sure they didn't steal or break anything.

There was a fountain in the lobby of the museum. Sometimes, when the last tour went a little long, I'd sit down on it and watch the water. One day, I was in such position when two socs came up to me and yelled, "hey, greaser! If you like water so much, let's get you a meetin'!" I tried to get away, but before I could they grabbed me by the neck and plunged my face into the water. I only had to struggle for a couple seconds before I was yanked out of the water. Mr. Brunner was right there, scowling at the soc boys. They both walked away. Mr. Brunner turned to me. "You okay, Percy?"

"Yeah." I scratched my head.

"Hey Percy, you got a D on your last English test." He frowned.

I groaned. Of course he'd expect me to be good with English, what with Ponyboy being an English nerd. I mean seriously! Just because two people are in the same family, doesn't mean they have the same brain. "Sorry. I haven't started reading the book yet." I admitted.

"You needed to be done with it three days ago!"

"Sorry! I'm just not interested in reading!" I dig around my pocket and hand him my quarter.

He looked at it. "Tell you what; if you pass my class this semester, all your future Meuseum visits are on me."

At this, I raised an eyebrow. Darry's always getting onto me for using up all the quarters on looking at Meuseum exhibits. I sighed. "Fine. Deal. What was the book again?"

"'Gone with the Wind'." He took my quarter and wheeled away.

The tour took two hours, and afterwards, I was walking home alone. I nervously looked over my shoulder several times. No cars were following me. Once I got within three blocks from my house I began to relax and slow my pace.

I really shouldn't have.

"Grease!" Screamed a soc, leaning out of the widow of a tuff blue mustang. I walked faster, then ran, but the car sped up. They stopped and got out and I ran as fast as I could, which wasn't that fast. If we'd been in water, I would've been a mile and a half away from them by the time they cornered me on the sidewalk. They all had long sharp switchblades and deranged smirks. I swollowed. I knew what was coming. "DARRY! SODA! PONY! SOMEONE! HELP!" I was able to scream before someone shoved a cloth in my mouth. I kicked and threw punches but they had me pinned down and the one on top of me held his blade at my neck. I let out a muffled scream. "Need a haircut, greaser?"

Suddenly there was a commotion and the socs were chased away. I saw my friends chase after the car screaming at the socs and throwing stuff at them while my brothers helped me up.

"You okay, Perce?" Soda asked.

"Yeah. Im good. Scared me a little, but I'll be okay." I said.

"Perseus Curtis, what the hell were you thinkin' walking around by your lonesome?" Darry demanded.

"Well no one wanted to go to the museum with me."

"You should've called one of us. Any one of us would've gone and picked you up; you know that!"

"I'm sorry! I'll use my head next time; promise."

We met up with our friends outside my house. Dally said he was gonna go to the Nightly Double to hunt some action and asked if anyone wanted to come.

"I'll go!" I exclaimed.

Darry glared at me. "You really should be working on reading that book for English. And that ain't the only class you're failing."

"Aw chill, Dar! It ain't like its a school night!"

Ponyboy came to my rescue and said, "If Johnny and I go with him, can he go?"

My oldest brother sighed. "Fine. I don't see why not."

"'Ey Steve, didn't Leo just get outta the cooler?" Dally asked Soda's best friend.

Leo Randle is a year younger than me, but gets into ten times as much trouble as me. He's so hyper. He won't sit still for five minutes. A couple months ago he got arrested for burning someone's garden. I'd he comes with us, now, a day after getting out of jail, he'll be running around like crazy. Sure if you get around that he's actually a really nice kid who likes building things, but it might be a good idea to let him settle down a bit.

"I'll join y'all if I don't get too drunk." Two-bit declared.

_______________________________

So that's chapter one.

Do you like it?

Should I continue?

Love ya!

CC