Ch 1
It was a black night, dismal and dark. I walked alone along the sidewalk, and the familiar, obscenity strangled me: the thick smell of weed hung lazily in the air accompanying the sickening smell of bountiful vomit; tons of empty beer bottles littered the ground and rot the air with their putrid odor.
A sudden sound made me jump; it was a drunken drawl barely intelligible, "Cherri." the voice said uncertainly. Quickly, I swirled around and spotted a completely stoned Travis Michaels clutching stupidly onto a streetlight. Dried vomit caked down his exposed chest, his pants were bloody, and his feet were bare. I cringed at his imprudence.
"Cherri." he drawled again, "Bob. I saw.Bob." his voice was thick and tongue-tied. I felt an oh-too-familiar knot swell in my throat at the mention of Bob.
Bob had been my boyfriend, but a while ago he'd been murdered by a greaser named Johnny Cade. Johnny was a nice kid and all, but he killed my one true love, and I can't ever forgive him for that, no matter what the circumstances.
A salty tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I gulped trying with all my might to stop from crying. Travis looked at me blankly, and then, suddenly his eyes began to retreat into his head, and he dead fainted into an imbecilic heap.
At my chance I ran, I ran as far away from Travis as possible; little did I know, I had begun to run away from Bob too.
* * *
"Hey Cherri!" called Marcia, my best friend, as she ran towards me. I was parking my apple red Corvette in the Will Rogers High School parking lot. I stepped out, an artificial smile pasted onto my face.
"Hey Marcia!" I called back, my voice only a slight decibel higher than normal. I reached into my schoolbag, and grabbed my compact mirror. I flipped it open and gazed at my reflection. How mirrors lie.
What I saw wasn't my true reflection: I saw a stunning girl with fiery, red-orange hair that hung swiftly down her shoulders. Her eyes were ivy green. They were minty, and could be poisonous. But they were kind, and sprayed with an outline of edgy silver. Her lips were raspberry red, and her cheeks wore a perfect, natural blush.
Despite the elegance of the girl I saw in my reflection, I cringed, because that wasn't who I really was. Only a fake outer covering.
"Cherri, did you hear about that dance coming up next Saturday?" Marcia said as she stepped beside me. That dreaded knot began to grow in my throat, and my eyes began to sting. Marcia went pale. It seemed like all happiness had been drained.
"Oh. Oh Cherri! I'm so, so sorry!" Marcia wailed. I nodded, mistrusting my voice.
I had remembered Bob. How we would have went to that dance together. Marcia sniffed and my mind screamed: Why are you crying!? You haven't lost a boyfriend! I should be crying! Just shut up!
"No, no! Please Marcia! It's ok, I'm not hurt! Just- just some allergies is all!" I said with false cheer. Marcia wasn't fooled.
"No, sorry, I'm an idiot!" she said. I shook my head. She smiled, and I smiled back, though still pained.
"Well." began Marcia uncertainly, "Well guess who I bumped into in the halls the other day?" she said. I shrugged. "Ponyboy Curtis, that greaser!" she said with emphasis. I nodded vaguely. Pony wasn't really a topic I wanted to discuss now, but apparently, Marcia did.
"Well anyway, he was like 'hi', and I was with Christy Mayer, and you know I couldn't say hi to a grease in front of her, so I ignored him," Marcia made a dramatic pause, "And then that kid, Johnny Cade came up behind Pony with some new girl, and was all 'Pony, don't go talking to Socs,' and they left. I was so shocked. That Cade guy had the nerve to come up to me like that!"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Marcia, just leave Johnny alone. He's just a troublemaker." I said. Marcia shrugged.
We began to walk into the school. A gang of greasers was sitting at one of the tables in the back of the school, and they stopped their conversation to stare and whisper at us. I knew it was about the whole "Johnny killing my boyfriend thing". It was and endless topic of gossip at our school.
We stepped into class seconds after the bell rang. Mr. Von put a callused hand on his hip.
"Sherri, Marcia. Hand in your assignments," he snarled. I felt the blood drain from my face. We had a report due on all of Newton's laws, and I'd forgotten! Marcia handed hers to him, and I shivered, empty handed.
"Well Miss Valance! Think you're too cool for class, huh? How about a detention? After school, room 227!" he barked, as he thrust a detention slip onto my desk.
Later that afternoon, at three o'clock, I entered the dreaded detention room. And wouldn't you know it! Sitting there his head tilted back, balancing a pencil on the bridge of his tanned nose, was Johnny Cade. He uprighted and turned around; I swear his mouth dropped to the ground. Mrs. Elton crossed her hands over her chest, and wheezed in her old voice: "Sit down, girl!" and then she strolled out of the door.
A couple of other boys in the room began fidgeting, cursing, and romping; a girl began to paint her nails black.
"So, uh. Cherri." said Johnny nervously, as I took a seat a couple diagonally behind him. I pursed my lips, and my jaw tightened. My heart began to pound behind my chest, and my hands began to sweat.
"Johnny." I said coolly. Johnny blushed. "I just said hi," he said. I frowned. "No, you said 'so uh, Cherri'!" I said, my voice beginning to rise.
Now he frowned. "For God's sake, Cherri! He had it coming!" he hissed right back. I knew Bob was coming back.
"You killed my boyfriend, Johnny Cade! You-killed-him! Get that through your head!" I snarled. Johnny glared at me.
"He was killing Ponyboy! He half-killed me! It was self-defense!" he growled. A lock of his long, greasy hair tumbled over his eyes. He brushed it impatiently away with his dark hand.
"Listen Johnny! Just listen! Our relationship was stronger than yours and Ponyboy's! I mean, how would you feel if I killed Ponyboy?" I hissed.
Johnny's eyes flickered weakly, and then burnt out; a look of sorrow slapped him. He had just put himself in my place. "Ok, Cherri!" he had begun to weep, "Ok!" he was sobbing. The other students turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" he cried, and then, so suddenly that his desk toppled over, he ran out of the room. I gaped after him.
When Mrs. Elton came back to the room, she signed my detention pass and sighed. "Now where did that Cade run off?"
* * *
It was a cool evening. I had parked my car and began strolling around Homebridge Park. I kicked the crispy autumn leaves, and enjoyed the crunch crunch as I stepped on them. With my head down, I couldn't see in front of me, and I bumped straight into a girl whose face I didn't recognize.
She smiled. She was actually pretty fair. Her skin was tan, kind of like Johnny's. Her hair was shiny black, not greasy; it was layered and fell to her shoulders. Her lips were pixie pink, and her face was pleasantly round.
"Hi!" I said. She seemed kind of shy, with her hands jammed into her pockets. But she managed a faint hi in reply.
"So, are you new to NYC?" I asked casually. She nodded. "You know, you can talk. I'm not gonna eat you or anything!" I said cheerily, more confident than I felt.
"Yeah," she whispered, "I'm from Okalahoma," she flipped her hair out of her eyes and continued, "But I don't think I should be talking to you, cause I'm an East-sider, you know, a greaser?" she sighed.
In total spite of my self, I laughed. I laughed her ignorance. "I'm Sherri-well everyone calls me Cherri cause of my hair-Cherri Valance, and I don't really care if you're a greaser or a Soc. I don't distribute social prejudice!" I said proudly, almost too proudly. The girl grinned an ear-to- ear grin.
"Cool! I'm May-Sarah Sharpe. I've heard that Socs are mean, and cruel; and that they jump greasers for fun, and throw beer blasts, and get stoned on the street, and vandalize, and all that, but you don't seem the type, in fact, if it wasn't for your Gucci ensemble, I would have never thought you were a Soc at all!" she laughed good-naturedly. I didn't know whether to feel offended or extolled, so I just smiled my prized fake smile.
"Yeah. Well, some Socs are like that but most of us are just simple kids trying to kick back and have fun," I said in a tone that would have been happy, but held a subtle hint of defense for my social class.
May-Sarah's smile faltered, as if she sensed my slight offense. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that Socs or bad or anything, but." her voice trailed, and flew off with the autumn wind. I smiled and waved it away.
"No, it's cool." I said, and then, faking shock, I looked at my watch, "Oh, Glory Hallelujah! It's nearly seven, my mom is gonna kill! Gotta run! Nice meeting you May-Sarah!" I said, and then sped away. In truth, my mom didn't care how late I got in, as it was Friday, and I swear May-Sarah sensed I was lying to her.
It was a black night, dismal and dark. I walked alone along the sidewalk, and the familiar, obscenity strangled me: the thick smell of weed hung lazily in the air accompanying the sickening smell of bountiful vomit; tons of empty beer bottles littered the ground and rot the air with their putrid odor.
A sudden sound made me jump; it was a drunken drawl barely intelligible, "Cherri." the voice said uncertainly. Quickly, I swirled around and spotted a completely stoned Travis Michaels clutching stupidly onto a streetlight. Dried vomit caked down his exposed chest, his pants were bloody, and his feet were bare. I cringed at his imprudence.
"Cherri." he drawled again, "Bob. I saw.Bob." his voice was thick and tongue-tied. I felt an oh-too-familiar knot swell in my throat at the mention of Bob.
Bob had been my boyfriend, but a while ago he'd been murdered by a greaser named Johnny Cade. Johnny was a nice kid and all, but he killed my one true love, and I can't ever forgive him for that, no matter what the circumstances.
A salty tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I gulped trying with all my might to stop from crying. Travis looked at me blankly, and then, suddenly his eyes began to retreat into his head, and he dead fainted into an imbecilic heap.
At my chance I ran, I ran as far away from Travis as possible; little did I know, I had begun to run away from Bob too.
* * *
"Hey Cherri!" called Marcia, my best friend, as she ran towards me. I was parking my apple red Corvette in the Will Rogers High School parking lot. I stepped out, an artificial smile pasted onto my face.
"Hey Marcia!" I called back, my voice only a slight decibel higher than normal. I reached into my schoolbag, and grabbed my compact mirror. I flipped it open and gazed at my reflection. How mirrors lie.
What I saw wasn't my true reflection: I saw a stunning girl with fiery, red-orange hair that hung swiftly down her shoulders. Her eyes were ivy green. They were minty, and could be poisonous. But they were kind, and sprayed with an outline of edgy silver. Her lips were raspberry red, and her cheeks wore a perfect, natural blush.
Despite the elegance of the girl I saw in my reflection, I cringed, because that wasn't who I really was. Only a fake outer covering.
"Cherri, did you hear about that dance coming up next Saturday?" Marcia said as she stepped beside me. That dreaded knot began to grow in my throat, and my eyes began to sting. Marcia went pale. It seemed like all happiness had been drained.
"Oh. Oh Cherri! I'm so, so sorry!" Marcia wailed. I nodded, mistrusting my voice.
I had remembered Bob. How we would have went to that dance together. Marcia sniffed and my mind screamed: Why are you crying!? You haven't lost a boyfriend! I should be crying! Just shut up!
"No, no! Please Marcia! It's ok, I'm not hurt! Just- just some allergies is all!" I said with false cheer. Marcia wasn't fooled.
"No, sorry, I'm an idiot!" she said. I shook my head. She smiled, and I smiled back, though still pained.
"Well." began Marcia uncertainly, "Well guess who I bumped into in the halls the other day?" she said. I shrugged. "Ponyboy Curtis, that greaser!" she said with emphasis. I nodded vaguely. Pony wasn't really a topic I wanted to discuss now, but apparently, Marcia did.
"Well anyway, he was like 'hi', and I was with Christy Mayer, and you know I couldn't say hi to a grease in front of her, so I ignored him," Marcia made a dramatic pause, "And then that kid, Johnny Cade came up behind Pony with some new girl, and was all 'Pony, don't go talking to Socs,' and they left. I was so shocked. That Cade guy had the nerve to come up to me like that!"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Marcia, just leave Johnny alone. He's just a troublemaker." I said. Marcia shrugged.
We began to walk into the school. A gang of greasers was sitting at one of the tables in the back of the school, and they stopped their conversation to stare and whisper at us. I knew it was about the whole "Johnny killing my boyfriend thing". It was and endless topic of gossip at our school.
We stepped into class seconds after the bell rang. Mr. Von put a callused hand on his hip.
"Sherri, Marcia. Hand in your assignments," he snarled. I felt the blood drain from my face. We had a report due on all of Newton's laws, and I'd forgotten! Marcia handed hers to him, and I shivered, empty handed.
"Well Miss Valance! Think you're too cool for class, huh? How about a detention? After school, room 227!" he barked, as he thrust a detention slip onto my desk.
Later that afternoon, at three o'clock, I entered the dreaded detention room. And wouldn't you know it! Sitting there his head tilted back, balancing a pencil on the bridge of his tanned nose, was Johnny Cade. He uprighted and turned around; I swear his mouth dropped to the ground. Mrs. Elton crossed her hands over her chest, and wheezed in her old voice: "Sit down, girl!" and then she strolled out of the door.
A couple of other boys in the room began fidgeting, cursing, and romping; a girl began to paint her nails black.
"So, uh. Cherri." said Johnny nervously, as I took a seat a couple diagonally behind him. I pursed my lips, and my jaw tightened. My heart began to pound behind my chest, and my hands began to sweat.
"Johnny." I said coolly. Johnny blushed. "I just said hi," he said. I frowned. "No, you said 'so uh, Cherri'!" I said, my voice beginning to rise.
Now he frowned. "For God's sake, Cherri! He had it coming!" he hissed right back. I knew Bob was coming back.
"You killed my boyfriend, Johnny Cade! You-killed-him! Get that through your head!" I snarled. Johnny glared at me.
"He was killing Ponyboy! He half-killed me! It was self-defense!" he growled. A lock of his long, greasy hair tumbled over his eyes. He brushed it impatiently away with his dark hand.
"Listen Johnny! Just listen! Our relationship was stronger than yours and Ponyboy's! I mean, how would you feel if I killed Ponyboy?" I hissed.
Johnny's eyes flickered weakly, and then burnt out; a look of sorrow slapped him. He had just put himself in my place. "Ok, Cherri!" he had begun to weep, "Ok!" he was sobbing. The other students turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" he cried, and then, so suddenly that his desk toppled over, he ran out of the room. I gaped after him.
When Mrs. Elton came back to the room, she signed my detention pass and sighed. "Now where did that Cade run off?"
* * *
It was a cool evening. I had parked my car and began strolling around Homebridge Park. I kicked the crispy autumn leaves, and enjoyed the crunch crunch as I stepped on them. With my head down, I couldn't see in front of me, and I bumped straight into a girl whose face I didn't recognize.
She smiled. She was actually pretty fair. Her skin was tan, kind of like Johnny's. Her hair was shiny black, not greasy; it was layered and fell to her shoulders. Her lips were pixie pink, and her face was pleasantly round.
"Hi!" I said. She seemed kind of shy, with her hands jammed into her pockets. But she managed a faint hi in reply.
"So, are you new to NYC?" I asked casually. She nodded. "You know, you can talk. I'm not gonna eat you or anything!" I said cheerily, more confident than I felt.
"Yeah," she whispered, "I'm from Okalahoma," she flipped her hair out of her eyes and continued, "But I don't think I should be talking to you, cause I'm an East-sider, you know, a greaser?" she sighed.
In total spite of my self, I laughed. I laughed her ignorance. "I'm Sherri-well everyone calls me Cherri cause of my hair-Cherri Valance, and I don't really care if you're a greaser or a Soc. I don't distribute social prejudice!" I said proudly, almost too proudly. The girl grinned an ear-to- ear grin.
"Cool! I'm May-Sarah Sharpe. I've heard that Socs are mean, and cruel; and that they jump greasers for fun, and throw beer blasts, and get stoned on the street, and vandalize, and all that, but you don't seem the type, in fact, if it wasn't for your Gucci ensemble, I would have never thought you were a Soc at all!" she laughed good-naturedly. I didn't know whether to feel offended or extolled, so I just smiled my prized fake smile.
"Yeah. Well, some Socs are like that but most of us are just simple kids trying to kick back and have fun," I said in a tone that would have been happy, but held a subtle hint of defense for my social class.
May-Sarah's smile faltered, as if she sensed my slight offense. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that Socs or bad or anything, but." her voice trailed, and flew off with the autumn wind. I smiled and waved it away.
"No, it's cool." I said, and then, faking shock, I looked at my watch, "Oh, Glory Hallelujah! It's nearly seven, my mom is gonna kill! Gotta run! Nice meeting you May-Sarah!" I said, and then sped away. In truth, my mom didn't care how late I got in, as it was Friday, and I swear May-Sarah sensed I was lying to her.