Wesley D

Wesley Dickson

3/5/08

Period 3-4

The Outsiders from a Background Socs Point of View

“Bob! Let’s head over to greaser territory and beat the tar out of em’,” I said. If anyone was going to make the decision, it would be Bob because he is the leader and we are the followers. All six of us were drunk out of our heads. Bo’s Tavern had supplied us with enough beer for a college football game, and none was left over.

“Well who’s the designated driver? No, just kidding, I’ll drive,” declared Bob. We all hopped into my tuff, cool blue convertible with flames on the sides. It usually takes about 15 minutes to ride to the other side of town, but because the streets were deserted and we were going 60 miles per hour, it only took five. Along the way, some mailboxes somehow got in our way, but I’m sure no one will mind. At the local park, we spotted some nice, juicy prey to play with. A couple more trash cans were taken out before we even got to the kids.

“Hey grease, you were the ones who tried to pick up our chicks, right? Well we’ll show you how we feel about that.” Again, Bob did all the talking. After the statement, every one around him chirped in with “oh yeahs” and “you’re gettin’ it nows”.

I’ve always wondered why Bob was the “so called” leader, he wasn’t that much different than anyone else. The problem was that I was the only one who ever asked that question, even in my mind. If I didn’t follow him, and broke off onto a different path, I’d be all alone. The only people I knew that really hated the greasers were Bob and a couple other kids at school. Everyone else (like me) didn’t want to be “out of trend”, so we chased right after them, and here we are, drunk and ready to kick some butt.

Joe flipped up his knife and charged like a wild animal. Everyone else did the same. In my mind, this idea was crazy, beating up kids and all, but I just couldn’t stop myself. It was like some sort of power was taking hold of me by the ears and dragging me across the floor.

No one ever told me to be different, they told me to follow the crowd and everything will fall in place. This is what they wanted right? Well, I hope so, but it just doesn’t feel right.

Bob got hold of one kid and started drowning him in the fountain. The power took hold of me again and I leaped to help hold him under. Meanwhile the rest of our gang had smashed the other boy face first on the ground, and he stayed down. No one talked, they just grunted and made strange sounds; so did I. Now all the attention was turned to the kid in the fountain. For the third time, I backed away from the action and thought about why we were doing this. But nothing came to mind other than how we all followed Bob. Socs don’t think like me, they act. I’m always the one who comes up with ideas. Bob takes those ideas and makes it sound like it was his idea. I don’t care even if I am a pushover. I’m grateful for what I have, a big house, money, and an education.

“What th…” Someone at the fountain crumpled like an old, used up piece of paper. Then the screams came. Bodies were flying in every direction, into the fountain, on the ground, up to the sky, and I was right in the middle of it.

“What just happened?!?!” I screeched. No one answered. My instincts popped right in, follow the crowd. We were back in the car and onto the road before I blinked. “What just happened?!?!” I repeated.

Billy answered; he was a quiet kid, not used to public speaking. “That greaser… the, the one on the ground… he… he stabbed Bob… no one saw him coming, it was quick… and silent….”

Maybe now I can be different.