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The outsiders: A continuation
I wondered for a long time how to start that theme, how to start writing about something that was important to me. And I finally began like this:” When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home… “I had never felt at ease doing my homework.
After the conversation with Darry and Soda, my perceptions towards life had changed. They had made me realize how much they cared. While Soda had given up school to give me a chance, Darry envisioned me as the only savior to a greasy orphaned family of three. The message from Johnny had further ignited a new light in me. Even though Johnny was no more, the thought of him asking me to make the best out of my life had rejuvenated my greaser spirit.
On that night, sleep was far from coming. I never felt like dropping that pen. I vividly remembered every incident that we had been through and consulted my grammar to make it a reality through writing. The bloody fights, the fierce encounters with the socs, the escapes, the fire incident at the church, all of it! It felt like watching a movie with no sound effects. Then I remembered all the good times I had with Johnny, the only person with whom I connected to like a twin. The thought of his death reminded me of the poem “nothing gold can stay.” Even though he had killed a soc, he had done it to save me. Like a child, he had been blessed with the best of hearts. I mean, how somebody can even find time to leave a note to his friend when he should be struggling death?
By the time I went to sleep, Soda and Darry were snoring like a freight train. I think they had slept three or four hours earlier. All that I can remember is that I barely slept for two hours before Darry woke me up for school. “Did you finish writing the theme?” He asked sheepishly. I understood the look in his face because he would have normally stayed up to read what I had written. Surprisingly, however, he didn`t bother to read it when I gave him the book on which I had written. “You are a smart kid, just give it to your teacher, and I am sure you`ll get that grade,” he concluded and proceeded to wake up Soda. For the first time in a while, both my brothers escorted me to school. Maybe the conversation on the previous night had worked miracles.
At school, Mr. Syme couldn`t give me a minute to breathe. “so what did you come up with?” He asked curiously. “I..I am still working on it”, I lied but my face betrayed me. He convinced me to let him help me with the editing. The drama, however, unfolded when he realized I had written fifteen complete pages; triple the number he had given as the maximum. “You must be passionate about this topic,” he said after promising to call me in the afternoon for a commentary.
“Ponyboy, you are expected at the principal`s office,” I remember one of my classmates uttering these words as I was trying to catch up with the sleep I had missed in the previous night. I had never gone to that office for any good reason. “Had the police started looking for the greasers involved in the murder again?” I wondered. The three-minute walk from my class to the principal’s office was the longest walk I have ever had. Multiple questions kept on bombarding my brain. I couldn`t imagine being expelled a day after witnessing peace in my family for the first time since the untimely death of my parents. My heart almost stopped beating when I opened the door to find the principal, Mr. Syme, and the school counselor all seated waiting for me. “Please don`t expel me, education is the only thing I have left,” I remember saying these words with my face down even before anyone in the room could utter a word.
“You have done nothing wrong, Ponyboy,” these words by the principal sounded too good to be true. I sighed, waiting for the next Bombshell. Greasers were never called to the big office for good reasons. The worry in Mr. Syme`s face was sufficient to narrate the grief that awaited me. I was, however, surprised when the principal asked me to tell the truth as my future would depend on what I would say to them. Mr. Syme had read my writing and shared it with the principal. He had also informed him about my deteriorating performance and had suspected that I had narrated an account of what I was going through. As much as being a greaser had toughened me, a force greater than me had whispered to me, urging me to tell the truth. It was the only way I would feel free. Free to follow my bliss, just as Johnny had wished in his final words.
Three months down the line, I was a celebrated figure in my school. My story had changed interactions at school. I had helped the administration understand the underlying reason behind the constant group fights in school. Peace was starting to be realized between the Socs and the greasers. I was also involved in multiple school-funded programs aimed at reducing bullying in schools. My grades had also changed, and so is my situation. I had received my first scholarship as early as high school when the principal followed up on my situation at home. Johny`s letter had not only introduced a glimmer of hope in my life but also changed it for good!