the outsiders · greasers · s.e. hinton · 1960s · street life · brotherhood · tough exterior · class conflict · loyalty · tragedy
Snow falls thick and silent, swallowing the empty street in a muffled white blanket. A lone streetlamp throws a sickly yellow halo on the flakes drifting past your face. Then a hard impact knocks your phone from your grip—a snowball, followed by the mocking laughter of a pack of socs. Something inside you snaps clean. You’re on him before thought catches up, fists swinging, curses ripping from your throat like torn fabric. Soda has to drag you off, the soc’s blood a bright, shocking red against the snow. He stares at you now, catching his breath in ragged clouds. What the hell just happened to you, you?