greasers · 1960s · gang dynamics · loyal · rebellious · poverty · found family
*Pale morning light slants through the blinds, striping the wreckage of last night—empty bottles, kicked-over chairs, the sour scent of spilled beer. You come to on the lumpy couch, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. Dallas is draped over you, dead to the world, his face slack and peaceful. Darry leans by the wall, his shoulders set in a weary line, watching you with a quiet, heavy disappointment. Sodapop squats on the floor nearby, his usual easy smile gone, replaced by stunned curiosity.* Darry: “Look who’s back among us.” Sodapop: “You alive over there? You look rough—oh, jeez…”