According to Wikipedia, The Outsiders is a coming-of-age novel by S. E. Hinton, first The book follows two rival groups, the Greasers and the Socs who are. The Outsiders is a dramatic and enduring work of fiction that laid the groundwork for the YA A Chicago Tribune Book World Spring Book Festival Honor Book. Editorial Reviews. bernasungueta.ga Review. According to Ponyboy, there are two kinds of people Add Audible book to your download for just $ Deliver to your.
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A heroic story of friendship and belonging No one ever said life was easy. But Ponyboy is pretty sure that he's got things figured out. He knows that he can count. Read "The Outsiders" by S. E. Hinton available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up The Heroes of Olympus,Book Five: The Blood of Olympus ebook by Rick Riordan . The Outsiders transformed young-adult fiction from a genre mostly about Teenage BookA Chicago Tribune Book World Spring Book Festival.
I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Darrywith the bills and stuff.
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Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Darry off my back. I told you he don't mean half of what he says What's it like? I turned my head to look at himand in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how hecould stand being so handsome.
Then I sighed. Darry thought I was just another mouth to feed and somebody to holler at. Darrylove me? I thought of those hard, pale eyes. Soda was wrong for once, I thought. Darrydoesn't love anyone or anything, except maybe Soda. I didn't hardly think of him as beinghuman. I don't care, I lied to myself, I don't care about him either. Soda's enough, and I'dhave him until I got out of school.
I don't care about Darry. But I was still lying and Iknew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me. We bought Cokes and blew the straws at thewaitress, and walked around eyeing things that were lying out in the open until themanager got wise to us and suggested we leave. He was too late, though; Dally walkedout with two packages of Kools under his jacket. Then we went across the street and down Sutton a little way to The Dingo.
The Dingo is a pretty rough hangout; there'salways a fight going on there and once a girl got shot. We walked around talking to allthe greasers and hoods we knew, leaning in car windows or hopping into the back seats,and getting in on who was running away, and who was in jail, and who was going withwho, and who could whip who, and who stole what and when and why.
We knew abouteverybody there.
The Outsiders 50th Anniversary Edition
There was a pretty good fight while we were there between a bigtwenty-three-year-old greaser and a Mexican hitchhiker. We left when the switchbladescame out, because the cops would be coming soon and nobody in his right mind wants tobe around when the fuzz show.
We crossed Sutton and cut around behind Spencer's Special, the discount house,and chased two junior-high kids across a field for a few minutes; by then it was darkenough to sneak in over the back fence of the Nightly Double drive-in movie.
It was thebiggest in town, and showed two movies every night, and on weekends four you couldsay you were going to the Nightly Double and have time to go all over town.
We all had the money to get in it only costs a quarter if you're not in a car butDally hated to do things the legal way. He liked to show that he didn't care whether therewas a law or not.
He went around trying to break laws. We went to the rows of seats infront of the concession stand to sit down. Nobody else was there except two girls whowere sitting down front.
I had a sick feeling that Dally was up to his usual tricks, and I was right. Hestarted talking, loud enough for the two girls to hear. He started out bad and got worse. Dallas could talk awful dirty if he wanted to and I guess he wanted to then. I felt my earsget hot. Two-Bit or Steve or even Soda would have gone right along with him, just to seeif they could embarrass the girls, but that kind of kicks just doesn't appeal to me. I satthere, struck dumb, and Johnny left hastily to get a Coke.
I wouldn't have felt so embarrassed if they had been greasy girls I might evenhave helped old Dallas. But those two girls weren't our kind. They were tuff-lookinggirls dressed sharp and really good-looking. They looked about sixteen or seventeen.
One had short dark hair, and the other had long red hair. The redhead was getting mad, orscared. She sat up straight and she was chewing hard on her gum. The other onepretended not to hear Dally. Dally was getting impatient. He put his feet up on the backof the redhead's chair, winked at me, and beat his own record for saying something dirty.
She turned around and gave him a cool stare. I'd seen her before; she was a cheerleader at ourschool. I'd always thought she was stuck-up. Dally merely looked at her and kept his feet where they were. What are they doing at a drive-in without acar? I've seen you around rodeos.
You oughtto see my record sometime, baby. Want a Coke? Get lost,hood! The girl looked at me. I was half-scared of her. I'm half-scared of all nice girls,especially Socs. Gosh, she was pretty. What's yourname?
I hate to tell people my name for the first time. Ponyboy's my real name and personally I like it. The redhead just smiled. Cherry Valance. We go to the same school. I got put up a year in grade school. He's my buddy. A DX, I think? I might have guessed you were brothers youlook alike.
Saddle bronc? Dad made him quit after he tore a ligament, though. We still hang aroundrodeos a lot. I've seen you two barrel race. You're good. He's not any older than sixteen or seventeen, ishe? I've told you I can't stand it that Soda dropped out.
It fitted Dally perfectly, but you could hardly say it about Soda. Johnny came back then and sat down beside me. He was nervous, though.
Johnny was always nervous around strangers. Cherry looked at him, sizing him up as shehad me. Then she smiled softly, and I knew she had him sized up right.
Dally came striding back with an armful of Cokes. He handed one to each of thegirls and sat down beside Cherry.
After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, Imight cool off, too. If I hadbeen Cherry I would have beat it out of there. I knew that smile. Well, that's the way I like 'em. He stared at Johnny in disbelief. Leave her alone. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda or Steve, oranyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without a moment's hesitation.
Youjust didn't tell Dally Winston what to do. One time, in a dime store, a guy told him tomove over at the candy counter. Dally had turned around and belted him so hard itknocked a tooth loose. A complete stranger, too. But Johnny was the gang's pet, andDally just couldn't hit him. He was Dally's pet, too. Dally got up and stalked off, his fistsjammed in his pockets and a frown on his face.
He didn't come back. He had me scared to death.
Nobody talks toDally like that. I was still staring at him. It had taken more than nerve forhim to say what he'd said to Dally Johnny worshiped the ground Dallas walked on, andI had never heard Johnny talk back to anyone, much less his hero. Marcia grinned at us. She was a little smaller than Cherry. She was cute, but thatCherry Valance was a real looker. You can protect us. He grinned suddenly, raising his eyebrows sothat they disappeared under his bangs.
Would we ever have something to tell the boys! We had picked up two girls, and classy ones at that. Not any greasybroads for us, but real Socs. Soda would flip when I told him. I was grateful. Johnny looked fourteen and he knew it and it bugged himsomething awful. First of all, you didn't joinin Dallas's dirty talk, and you made him leave us alone.
Aid when we asked you to sit uphere with us, you didn't act like it was an invitation to make out for the night. Besidesthat, I've heard about Dallas Winston, and he looked as hard as nails and twice as tough. And you two don't look mean. You've seen toomuch to be innocent. Just not You take up for yourbuddies, no matter what they do.
When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. Ifyou don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It'sa pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or thestreet gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber. When Steve'scousin from Kansas came down, Dally was decent to her and watched his swearing.
Weall did around nice girls who were the cousinly type. I don't know how to explain it wetry to be nice to the girls we see once in awhile, like cousins or the girls in class; but westill watch a nice girl go by on a street corner and say all kinds of lousy stuff about her. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. They'd come with theirboyfriends, but walked out on them when they found out the boys had brought somebooze along. The boys had gotten angry and left.
They'd decided to stay and see the movie anyway. Itwas one of those beach-party movies with no plot and no acting but a lot of girls inbikinis and some swinging songs, so it was all right. I looked fearfully over my shoulder and there was Two-Bit, grinning like aChessy cat. Then I looked at Johnny. His eyes were shutand he was as white as a ghost. His breath was coming in smothered gasps. Two-Bitknew better than to scare Johnny like that.
I guess he'd forgotten. He's kind ofscatterbrained. I couldn't tell if Two-Bit was drunk or not. It's kind of hard to tell with him heacts boozed up sometimes even when he's sober. Two-Bit stared at her admiringly. Where'd you twoever get to be picked up by a couple of greasy hoods like Pony and Johnny?
They're worth ten camels apiece at least. Say somethin'in Arabian, Johnnycake. Against wisecracking greasers like you,probably. We thoughtwe were doing good if we could get him to talk at all. Incidentally, we don't mind beingcalled greaser by another greaser. It's kind of playful then. I hope he don't getjailed again. Timothy Shepard and Co. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it Does Dally have ablade?
Tim'll fight fair if Dally don't pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn't haveany trouble. So are chains andheaters and pool sticks and rumbles. Skin fighting isn't rough. It blows off steam betterthan anything. There's nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. Theygang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs.
Us greasersusually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it's a fair fight betweentwo. And Dally deserves whatever he gets, 'cause slashed tires ain't no joke when you'vegot to work to pay for them.
He got spotted, too, and that was his fault. Our one rule,besides Stick together, is Don't get caught. He might get beat up, he might not. Eitherway there's not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard's, If weneeded them tomorrow they'd show. If Tim beats Dally's head in, and then tomorrow asksus for help in a rumble, we'll show.
Dally was getting kicks. He got caught. He pays up. No sweat. He sure put things into words good. Maybe hewas still a junior at eighteen and a half, and maybe his sideburns were too long, andmaybe he did get boozed up too much, but he sure understood things. Johnny's color was back and his breathing was regular, but his handwas shaking ever so slightly.
A cigarette would steady it. I jumped up. Y'all want some? She was finishing the Coke Dally had given her. I realizedthen that Marcia and Cherry weren't alike. Cherry had said she wouldn't drink Dally'sCoke if she was starving, and she meant it. It was the principle of the thing. But Marciasaw no reason to throw away a perfectly good, free Coke.
He flipped me a fifty cent piece. We went to the concession stand and, as usual, there was a line a mile long, so wehad to wait. Quite a few kids turned to look at us you didn't see a kid grease and a Socycheerleader together often. Cherry didn't seem to notice. He's okay. And I don't like to talk about it either Johnny getting beat up, I mean.
But Istarted in, talking a little faster than I usually do because I don't like to think about iteither. I had walked down to the DX station to geta bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always download me a couple ofbottles and let me help work on the cars.
I don't like to go on weekends because thenthere is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda all kinds of girls, Socstoo. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. It was a warmish spring day with the sun shining bright, but it was getting chillyand dark by the time we started for home. We were walking because we had left Steve'scar at the station. At the corner of our block there's a wide, open field where we playfootball and hang out, and it's often a site for rumbles and fist fights.
We were passing it,kicking rocks down the street and finishing our last bottle of Pepsi, when Steve noticedsomething lying on the ground.
He picked it up. It was Johnny's blue-jeans jacket theonly jacket he had. Suddenly he stopped and examined it more carefully. Therewas a stain the color of rust across the collar. He looked at the ground. There were somemore stains on the grass. He looked up and across the field with a stricken expression onhis face.
I think we all heard the low moan and saw the dark motionless hump on theother side of the lot at the same time. Soda reached him first.
Johnny was lying face downon the ground. Soda turned him over gently, and I nearly got sick. Someone had beatenhim badly. We were used to seeing Johnny banged up his father clobbered him around alot, and although it made us madder than heck, we couldn't do anything about it. Butthose beatings had been nothing like this. Johnny's face was cut up and bruised andswollen, and there was a wide gash from his temple to his cheekbone.
He would carrythat scar all his life. His white T-shirt was splattered with blood. I just stood there,trembling with sudden cold. I thought he might be dead; surely nobody could be beatenlike that and live.
Steve closed his eyes for a second and muffled a groan as he droppedon his knees beside Soda. Two-Bit was suddenly therebeside me, and for once his comical grin was gone and his dancing gray eyes werestormy.
Darry had seen us from our porch and ran toward us, suddenly skidding to a halt. Dally was there, too, swearing under his breath, and turning away with a sick expressionon his face. I wondered about it vaguely. Dally had seen people killed on the streets ofNew York's West Side.
Why did he look sick now? He gave the limpbody a slight shake. You're gonna be okay. I got so scared I had seen Johnny take a whipping with a two-by-four from his old man andnever let out a whimper. That made it worse to see him break now. Soda just held himand pushed Johnny's hair back out of his eyes. It's okay. He had beenhunting our football to practice a few kicks when a blue Mustang had pulled up besidethe lot.
There were four Socs in it. They had caught him and one of them had a lot ofrings on his hand that's what had cut Johnny up so badly. It wasn't just that they hadbeaten him half to death he could take that. They had scared him. They had threatenedhim with everything under the sun. Johnny was high-strung anyway, a nervous wreckfrom getting belted every time he turned around and from hearing his parents fight all thetime.
Living in those conditions might have turned someone else rebellious and bitter; itwas killing Johnny. He had never been a coward. He was a good man in a rumble. Hestuck up for the gang and kept his mouth shut good around cops. But after the night of thebeating, Johnny was jumpier than ever.
I didn't think he'd ever get over it. And Johnny, who was the most law-abiding of us, nowcarried in his back pocket a six-inch switchblade. He'd use it, too, if he ever got jumpedagain. They had scared him that much. He would kill the next person who jumped him.
Nobody was ever going to beat him like that again. Not over his dead body But when I cameback to reality and looked at her, I was startled to find her as white as a sheet. Not all ofus are like that. I'll bet he's jumped afew people.
It was true. Dally had jumped people. He had told us stories aboutmuggings in New York that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But not all ofus were that bad. Cherry no longer looked sick, only sad. The rich kids, the West-side Socs. I'll tell you something, Ponyboy, and it may come as asurprise. We have troubles you've never even heard of. You want to know something? Marcia and Two-Bit werehitting it off fine. Both had the same scatterbrained sense of humor. But Cherry andJohnny and I just sat there, looking at the movie and not talking.
I quit worrying abouteverything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen toher swear or to beat her off with a club. I knew Johnny liked it, too.
He didn't talk to girlsmuch. Then he gave Johnny a lecture ongirls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As aresult, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared ofSteve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell. I got the same lecture from Two-Bit after we'd picked up a couple of girlsdowntown one day.
I thought it was funny, because girls are one subject even Darrythinks I use my head about. And it really had been funny, because Two-Bit was halfcrocked when he gave me the lecture, and he told me some stories that about made mewant to crawl under the floor or something. But he had been talking about girls likeSylvia and the girls he and Dally and the rest picked up at drive-ins and downtown; henever said anything about Socy girls.
So I figured it was all right to be sitting there withthem. Even if they did have their own troubles. I really couldn't see what Socs wouldhave to sweat about good grades, good cars, good girls, madras and Mustangs andCorvairs Man, I thought, if I had worries like that I'd consider myself lucky.
I know better now. Two-Bit gallantly offered to walk them home the westside of town was only about twenty miles away but they wanted to call their parentsand have them come and get them. Two-Bit finally talked them into letting us drive themhome in his car. I think they were still half-scared of us. They were getting over it,though, as we walked to Two-Bit's house to pick up the car. It seemed funny to me thatSocs if these girls were any example were just like us. They liked the Beatles andthought Elvis Presley was out, and we thought the Beatles were rank and that Elvis wastuff, but that seemed the only difference to me.
Of course greasy girls would have acted alot tougher, but there was a basic sameness. I thought maybe it was money that separatedus. Part of it is, butnot all. You greasers have a different set of values. You're more emotional. We'resophisticated cool to the point of not feeling anything. Nothing is real with us. Youknow, sometimes I'll catch myself talking to a girl-friend, and realize I don't mean half ofwhat I'm saying. I don't really think a beer blast on the river bottom is super-cool, but I'llrave about one to a girl-friend just to be saying something.
I think you're the first person I've ever really gotten through to. Did you ever hear of having more than you wanted? Sothat you couldn't want anything else and then started looking for something else to want?
It seems like we're always searching for something to satisfy us, and never finding it. Maybe if we could lose our cool. Socs were always behind a wall of aloofness, careful not to lettheir real selves show through. I had seen a social-club rumble once. The Socs evenfought coldly and practically and impersonally. They were engaged in somewild conversation that made no sense to anyone but themselves. I have quite a rep for being quiet, almost as quiet as Johnny. Two-Bit always saidhe wondered why Johnny and I were such good buddies.
Nobody but Soda could really get me talking. Till I met Cherry Valance. I don't know why I could talk to her; maybe for the same reason she could talk tome. I hadnever told anyone about Soda's horse. It was personal. Soda had this buckskin horse, only it wasn't his. It belonged to a guy who kept itat the stables where Soda used to work. Mickey Mouse was Soda's horse, though.
I was about tenthen. Sodapop is horsecrazy. He's always hanging around stables and rodeos,hopping on a horse every time he gets a chance. Mickey Mouse was a dark-gold buckskin,sassy and ornery, not much more than a colt. He'd come when Soda called him.
Hewouldn't come for anyone else. That horse loved Soda. He'd stand there and chew onSoda's sleeve or collar. Gosh, but Sodapop was crazy about that horse. He went down tosee him every day. But not hard. He may have belonged to another guy,but he was Soda's horse.
He was areal valuable horse. Pure quarter. I couldn't tell her that Soda hadbawled all night long after they came and got Mickey Mouse. I had cried, too, if you wantto know the truth, because Soda never really wanted anything except a horse, and he'dlost his.
Soda had been twelve then, going-on-thirteen. He never let on to Mom and Dadhow he felt, though, because we never had enough money and usually we had a hard timemaking ends meet. When you're thirteen in our neighborhood you know the score.
I keptsaving my money for a year, thinking that someday I could download Mickey Mouse back forSoda. You're not so smart at ten. I was startled. I'll bet you watch sunsets, too. Maybe Cherry stood still and watched the sun set whileshe was supposed to be taking the garbage out.
Stood there and watched and forgoteverything else until her big brother screamed at her to hurry up. I shook my head. Itseemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and, the one I saw from theback steps was the same one.
Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't sodifferent. We saw the same sunset. Marcia suddenly gasped. Johnny made asmall noise in his throat and when I looked at him he was white. Marcia was shifting nervously. I wondered why Johnny was a nervous wreck, buthe never was that jumpy. Cherry started walking down the street. Act normal. Marcia sighed in relief. You don't talk muchabout him. He's big and handsome and likes to play football. I feel like I know Soda from the way you talk about him;tell me about Darry.
Dreamy, like you? He's hard as a rock and about ashuman. He's got eyes exactly like frozen ice. He thinks I'm a pain in the neck. He likesSoda everybody likes Soda but he can't stand me. I bet he wishes he could stick mein a home somewhere, and he'd do it, too, if Soda'd let him. I knew my ears were red by the waythey were burning, and I was thankful for the darkness. He got a job and looked after them and this alone makes him a hero in my eyes.
Who knows; if Johnny and Dallas would have had such family ties they probably would have never even ended up where they did in the end. I felt the tension growing inside of me and I knew something had to happen or I would explode. The only three people who truly question their situation are Pony, Johnny and Randy. In one way or the other they are all tired of fighting and try their best to get out of that vicious cycle — some more effective than others.
I think this book is such a damn good example for humanity. They have their problems and troubles too and there is always a reason why they leash out at others, why they act in a certain way. We ought to be able to stick together against everything. Not all of it, but most of it anyway. This book will make you think and feel and it will continue to do so even after you finished reading the last page.Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and drive old souped-up cars andhold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while.
It belonged to a guy who kept itat the stables where Soda used to work. Cherry had said she wouldn't drink Dally'sCoke if she was starving, and she meant it. Anybody want to come and huntsome action? Hearts at Stake. They were Socs all right. But then, Sodais different from anybody; he understands everything, almost. Do you know what time it is? Your rating has been recorded. I looked fearfully over my shoulder and there was Two-Bit, grinning like aChessy cat.
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