Two-Bit Mathews was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. It wasn’t my fault Soda always asked me, I didn’t ask him. He didn’t like me-he thought I was a tagalong and a kid Soda always took me with them when they went places if they weren’t taking girls, and that bugged Steve.
I liked Steve only because he was Soda’s best friend. Whether that was because Steve was so good with cars or because Soda attracted girls like honey draws flies, I couldn’t tell you. He and Soda worked at the same gas station-Steve part time and Soda full time-and their station got more customers than any other in town. He could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood, but he also knew cars upside-down and backward, and he could drive anything on wheels. He was cocky, smart, and Soda’s best buddy since grade school. Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. I had grown up with them, and they accepted me, even though I was younger, because I was Darry and Soda’s kid brother and I kept my mouth shut good. They were all as tough as nails and looked it. They came running toward us now-four lean, hard guys. Our gang had chased the Socs to their car and heaved rocks at them. I’d just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly but for some reason, Darry seems to like being teased by Soda. Sodapop isn’t afraid of him like everyone else and enjoys teasing him. “It seems to run in this family.”ĭarry stared at him for a second, then cracked a grin. Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he’d picked up from Two-Bit. Darry looked as if he’d like to knock our heads together.
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