![]() He throws an arm around me, walking with a hopping gait. He seems to be the only one excited besides me everyone else looks devastatingly relieved or terrified. "Imagine the story we get to tell about this! Socs getting scared of us!" Ponyboy and Johnny both lose their act, shoulders slumping with relief. I feel my body relax as the danger passes. Two-Bit cheers, pumping his fist into the air, as they zoom away. The Socs hop into the car without a word, panic clear on their faces. ![]() He points the blade at the Socs, taking yet another step forward. Two-Bit flicks out a switchblade, tossing a busted pop bottle to Ponyboy, who was closest to him. As if on cue, all three greasers step forward. I can tell that they're both scared - especially Johnny - but they put on a cold, hard face, staring at the Socs. Shock and relief blaze through me at the same time. The pale street light washes over the figures who are standing behind us. "You might want to rethink that." Without even glancing behind him, Two-Bit steps aside. "You!" The second Soc in a blue polo shirt laughs, holding up his blade. At any moment, I expect cold hands to grab me and pull me to the ground. I can barely breathe, my chest is so tight. By now, the footsteps thundering behind us falter to a stop behind me. "Who ya callin' bums, pal!?" Two-Bit's hand drifts behind him. This place only looks suitable for bums," A Soc in a green madras shirt cackles. ![]() What if it's more of them? Where are Two-Bit's friends who came to the drive-in with us? My heart is pounding against my chest. I hear footsteps far behind me I freeze in fear, not wanting to turn around. "This is our territory," Two-Bit yells out as the Socs approach us. I may have only known him for short hours, but the seriousness is strange on him. The cheesy grin is gone instead, his mouth is set in a straight line and his gray eyes are stormy. Two-Bit automatically steps in front of me. Two Socs hop out, something glinting in their hands. A dark blue Corvair screeches to a halt next to us. He is about to say something smart when a sudden motor revving drowns out his words. "I can handle myself just fine," I say lightly, but it's obvious that I want him to stay anyway. My cheeks burn but I can't help but giggle. "Nah, no way am I letting a pretty lady like you walk without your humble escort here." He gives me a bow. "My house is about two blocks down," I say, pointing down the sidewalk. Everything he says with his dorky, joking voice seems to make me feel light and happy inside. You seem like the guy always going to get his two-bits worth in." "Thank you." I speak again a moment after. "I didn't catch your name," the greaser says as we turn a corner. He's been nonstop flirting with me ever since he saw me at the Nightly Double now he's walking me home, cracking everything under the sun. I love his scatterbrained sense of humor and his goofy laugh. He reminded me of Will Rogers- maybe it was the grin.I giggle, my cheeks flushing as the rusty-haired greaser beside me says another flirtatious joke. I liked him real well because he kept us laughing at ourselves as well as at other things. He was still a junior at eighteen and a half and he never learned anything. (That's the way he explained it to me.) He liked fights, blondes, and for some unfathomable reason, school. Everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dull lives. He was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade (which he couldn't have acquired without his first talent), and he was always smarting off to the cops. Even his teachers forgot his real name was Keith, and we hardly remembered he had one. You couldn't shut up that guy he always had to get his two-bits worth in. He had gray eyes and a wide grin, and he couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life. He was about six feet tall, stocky in build, and very proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. ![]() 'Two-Bit Mathews was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. ![]()
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