Young Writers Society

"Hurry up Randy!" I heard Bob call. 

It was pretty late at night and once again, Bob was on the prowl. I heard him talking about some Greasers who picked up his girl and, well he wasn't exactly happy about it. As I jumped into the Madra, a sudden pang fell in my stomach. I couldn't tell why, I'd never been one to back down in a fight before. I told myself I was just tired and it would wear off soon. I fell asleep for what felt like a minute and then we were there and getting out of the car. 

"Hey look, it's the Greasers who picked up our girls! Hey Greasers." 

Everyone laughed at the sight of them then. Oh no, I thought. Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. This time I recognized these two. Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade. I knew the story about Ponyboy. I remembered the day his parents died in that crash. He must have felt awful and being a Greaser and all, it couldn't have been real easy. I heard Ponyboy try to talk back, but the laughing just kept on coming from my side of the lot. Bob thought it'd be funny to dunk Ponyboy, and I almost screamed "NO!", but my mouth wouldn't let the words fall out. Man was I scared. I couldn't do nothin though. All I could do was watch. Watch as once again, Soc and Greaser worlds collided, leaving me smack in the middle of it. The only other thing that was bothering me more was why I cared so much. I'd never thought about how dirty, awful, and filthy it'd be to live as a Greaser. It hit me now. I was too nice to be a Soc. I didn't like braggin' off and showin' off to people. For goodness sake, I hated being what I was! I mean, I had problems, I had issues and everyone just thought I was fine living like I was. No one ever gives a thought about how rough a Soc's life could be and no one cared about the Greasers either. 

I had to get out. How though? How was I supposed to escape the terror in front of me? I really couldn't. I was forced to sit there and face it sad as it was. I saw Bob shove Ponyboy. Then I saw him push him into the water, face first and hold him there for a long time. Too long of a time. I wanted to do something becau—— Bob suddenly hit the ground with a thuddering thwack. I didn't know what happened, all of a sudden, Bob was gone. He was dead! I looked up only to see Johnny standing there with a look of genuine horror at what he had just done. Ponyboy gasped for air and conked out next to the fountain. The Socs ran away while I stalled for a minute. I ran to Ponyboy. He looked helpless lying there, unconscious. I said a silent prayer for him in my head and ran away knowing if I stayed there, I'd be, gosh who knows what would have happened to me. I'd have been disowned from the Socs, cast out at school, the Greasers might have not even taken me in. 

The trouble was this dumb town. Everyone torn left and right about who they should be, who they should follow, what they should do. It was all dumb. While I walked home, the thought from the car had never left me. Again, I knew I had to get out and this time, for real. As I went home, I realized then I couldn't do anything about it. The truth of it crushed me. 

Now, I'm not the deepest guy you'll meet, but I'm not the shallowest either. My thoughts had lead me to my decisions not a "jump the gun" or "drop of a hat" kind of reactions like Bob or other Socs, but my own. If I couldn't do anything with my physical actions, my mind was the only thing I had left. I would change my outlook on Greasers, maybe I could even change the Socs. I began to doubt myself soon after the thought crossed my mind. I'll change myself. Maybe I just needed to be more, tuff, yeah, that's it! No, no again. Or I could be really, really thoughtful! Again, that didn't seem to suit me, to suit who I was. Maybe, I could, be... myself? That thought finally settled in my mind. I recognized that was it after all. I wasn't not being myself before, I just wasn't acknowledging all of me, all of Randy. For Randy wasn't your typical Soc. The one I knew now was smart and witty and caring unlike the previous monster who went around not thinking of others. Somehow, I thought, maybe the Greasers thought the same things. Maybe they struggled to find themselves too. I mean, after all, what's the difference between finding and losing yourself?