Post by eastsidesunset on Mar 16, 2011 18:36:09 GMT -5
"Soda's anything but bad," I laughed. "He doesn't touch a drop, smokes only when he's worried, and'll make ya see the bright side of just 'bout anything." I shook my head just a little when she talked about most Socs being good too. If that was true, I'd seen too much to convince myself anyhow. And I'd have to see it to believe it- Something that wasn't happenin' anytime soon.
We went in the diner and I sat down next to her on one of the raised plastic seats. I hoped the manager wouldn't kick me out because I didn't buy anything- I had two dimes and a quarter left from the movies and I guessed that that wouldn't even get me half a straw. So I avoided eye contact deliberately with the waitress and tried to seem casual and confident, though I was anything but. New places always made me nervous, especially since I was the only greaser in here and stood out like a sore thumb. Talking to a Soc, no less.
In a way it kinda worked, I guess. The few people in here started giving me suspicious glances, and over half conspicuously moved away a little. I sighed, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. Maybe this wasn't the greatest idea ever. We sat for a few minutes longer before I had to say something.
"Maybe I should go," I muttered, "I, uh, didn't bring money." As if I had the money to bring. Talking to Cherry had made me feel almost just a regular guy for a while, not a greaser, but I knew it couldn't last. The diner had brought things back into perspective and all I wanted now was to leave. I stood up, hoping she wouldn't think I was deserting her, and with a quick goodbye, slipped out of the diner that had looked so inviting just a minute ago.
Once out the door, I squinted at the too-bright sunlight, and tried to make sense of what I was feeling. It was a weird combination of regret and longing mixed with a hope that I'd see her again. But I couldn't, I reasoned with myself. She was a Soc and I was a greaser.
Still, I thought as I made my way home, hitching my thumbs into my pockets. Was it wrong to hope?
We went in the diner and I sat down next to her on one of the raised plastic seats. I hoped the manager wouldn't kick me out because I didn't buy anything- I had two dimes and a quarter left from the movies and I guessed that that wouldn't even get me half a straw. So I avoided eye contact deliberately with the waitress and tried to seem casual and confident, though I was anything but. New places always made me nervous, especially since I was the only greaser in here and stood out like a sore thumb. Talking to a Soc, no less.
In a way it kinda worked, I guess. The few people in here started giving me suspicious glances, and over half conspicuously moved away a little. I sighed, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. Maybe this wasn't the greatest idea ever. We sat for a few minutes longer before I had to say something.
"Maybe I should go," I muttered, "I, uh, didn't bring money." As if I had the money to bring. Talking to Cherry had made me feel almost just a regular guy for a while, not a greaser, but I knew it couldn't last. The diner had brought things back into perspective and all I wanted now was to leave. I stood up, hoping she wouldn't think I was deserting her, and with a quick goodbye, slipped out of the diner that had looked so inviting just a minute ago.
Once out the door, I squinted at the too-bright sunlight, and tried to make sense of what I was feeling. It was a weird combination of regret and longing mixed with a hope that I'd see her again. But I couldn't, I reasoned with myself. She was a Soc and I was a greaser.
Still, I thought as I made my way home, hitching my thumbs into my pockets. Was it wrong to hope?
