When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the movie theater, I only had 2 things on my mind;a ride home and Winston Churt. It had been a good movie, my favorite of all times. Now it still is. As i was walking home, I wish that I had some company. In my neighboring town, its not good to be by yourself. The Socs, the vicious and rich gangs on the West side would jump you if they could help it. Us greasers, which was me and mine gang, were the East side. We're hoods. We would jump people, but just aren't all the time. We 're not rich, not middle class, just a tad bit poor. oh sure, me and my brothers live in a house. My parents die in a car accident. My 17 year old brother, Soda, cries at their mention. but my 20 year old brother, Darrel, rarely cries. Oh, and I'm 14. Looks 16, but, no sirrie, I'm not.

You always gotta be careful, like I said. Never safe. Or should I say, its rare. Not safe, nope.

Just then, a blue Mustang drove across slowly. I was so sure that it was some Socs in it, but I'm not sure. I should run. Then, the Mustang stop, right in front of me and 4 Socs step out. Now I'm wishing I had beat it outta here. I started sweating and clenched my hands together hard. One of them muttered,"Get him down." Another obey and I fought to get out. The one holding me down slugged me a couple times and I fell still. This hurts. I curse myself for not waiting for a gang member to come with me. One of the Socs, a tall blond guy, flick open a knife. The blade glisten in the sun. I panted and sweat even harder.

He held the knife up. "Need a haircut greaser?" "I said,"No. Let me go!" I was panicking. Then he held the blade against my throat. "How you'll like the haircut to begin just below the chin?"