13Disclaimer: I do not own the novel "The Outsiders" nor any of it affiliates. I do however own all of the original characters in this story, along with the plotline.
Nothing is better than taking a stroll around the block as the sun sets in the west. Of course, it isn't the safest thing to do in New York. With all the gangs and murders happening here. I always found it strange that every time someone was jumped or killed, I was just far enough away that I wouldn't here about it 'til I read the paper the next day.
Going on this line of thought, I decided to take a short cut through the park, so I can get home a tad faster. It never is safe for a young girl like me to be walking around the streets anyway. But, who ever said all the jumpings and murders happen out on the streets, or after the sun went to sleep?
Half way through the park, I heard some rustling in the trees; probably just some squirrels going nuts over nuts. Then I heard a stick break, as if someone stepped harshly on it. The code in the East Side of NY is: if you hear a sudden noise behind you, then you're probably going to get jumped real soon. The only way to avoid this is to be in a group larger than the one jumping you, or simply out run them. There was only one option for me, and that was running.
Unfortunately, the option of running was soon closed to me. My body was never was in it's prime. My stamina was always lower than most other kids my age. I was very sickly in terms of health.
As my body started to give up, I tripped over a raised root. As soon as my body hit the hard ground, my pursuers were upon me. I righted myself, and backed up against the nearest tree, so they could get me in my blind spot.
"Look what we have here, guys, a little chick lost from her nest." The ringleader of the gang taunted, stepping forward menacingly. I forgot about the tree behind me and tried to back up. My eyes widened, as I realized what would most likely happen next. My eyes darted around as I was looking for anything I could use as a weapon, or a way to escape.
"Aw, what's a matter Blondie? We just want to have a little fun is all, " a different voice teased. As the gang started to come in closer, I decided to take action.
'Hopefully this will work,' I though as I stomped on the foot of the closest gang member.
Bad idea.
"Oh, you've done it now Blondie." Two large hands grabbed hold of my arms and held me against the tree. I felt sharp punches in my stomach, and did what any 13-year-old girl would do.
Scream.
That was the last thing I remember of this event.
I heard voices around me. Angry voices. I was afraid to open in my eyes, in case I was still in the presence of that gang. I heard clanking on what sounded like iron bars. Curiosity took hold of me and I opened my eyes. I was in the last place I ever suspected.
A jail cell.
I stood up and tried to find someone so I could get out of here. I didn't commit any crimes. I was just the victim of gang violence. Why should a victim be in jail when the men who were guilty of the jumping were probably getting drunk at a bar right now?
A cop came up to the front of my cell, and motioned for me to follow him. At least he didn't put me in handcuffed or start reading me my rights. My older brother said that when that happens, you're probably going to go to the cooler for some time.
The cop led me to an office and told me to wait outside the door for a moment. He went inside, most likely to tell whoever was in there that I was outside waiting. He came back out and gruffly motioned for me to go inside.
The room looked just like the principal's office at my school. The only difference between these two rooms would be that there are probably many weapons in this room than at the principal's office.
"Finally awake I see, Miss?" The man behind the large oak desk said warmly. He had the appearance of a grandfather. Gray hair, twinkling eyes and wrinkles on his face that showed he smiled a lot.
"Jeannetta Winston, sir," I answered as politely as I could.
"I am Officer Jones. And can you tell me why my men found you unconscious in Central Park earlier this evening?"
"Well, I was taking a short cut through the park, sir, and I got jumped by a gang," I replied nervously. My brother also said that if you aren't polite or don't give to cops the right answers, they'll throw you in the cooler forever. "But it wasn't my fault. I didn't really do anything to make them jump me. I don't even know them." I blurted out, trying to make my innocence known.
"It's alright Miss Winston. Nobody is accusing you of anything. It's quite obvious that you were the victim of this incident. I just need to record this for statistics sakes, so we might be able to prevent future occurrences. It's pretty late now; I bet your folks are worried sick over you. Why don't you tell me your home phone number so I can call your folks and tell them what happened."
"My phone number is 589-0432." I responded softly.
"Can you repeat that number for me again, Miss Winston?"
"Five eight nine. Zero four. Three Two." I said again. "My mother would be the one to answer." I added as an afterthought.
"Hello. This is Officer Jones with the East Side New York Police Force. Are you the parent or guardian of a Miss Jean Winston? …. Ah. Don't worry Ma'am. Your daughter isn't in any trouble. She just had a run in with some boys at the park. …. The most damage our medic saw was a bruise to her head, she's a lucky one. …. Don't worry about that. I have some boys that are going out on patrol soon and will be glad to escort her home. ….Okay. Goodnight Ma'am." Officer Jones then turned to me. "Alright, now, if you take this and give it to Officer Smith at the front desk, he will escort you home. Okay?"
"Okay. But, where is the front desk?"
"Just go to the left straight down the hallway, and you should get there just fine."
I never thought that I would ever be in the passenger seat of a police car, but here I was sitting in a police car. Yet, I never committed a crime, and it wasn't Career Day or Police Appreciation Day at school. Those were the only times that I was inside a police car.
Dallas, my older brother I mentioned earlier, predicted that I would never be in a cop car besides those few days at school. He believed that I would never become like him. A hoodlum. And that I would never be able to do what he does. Commit crimes for the heck of it. Start gang fights. Dallas was always tough like that. If you told he couldn't do something, he'd do it anyway. He thought laws were made to be broken.
I'm not sure if he's till like that; or if he settled down on earth yet. I haven't seen him in so long. He moved to Oklahoma a few years back, joined a rodeo is what he told me. Probably living the good life right now, out in the country with horses. No worries about gangs. Probably doesn't have to have a group with him so he doesn't get jumped. Well…. maybe not that. He never needed a group with him here. Everyone feared him if they didn't know him, and avoided him if they could if they did.
The car stopped. The police station must be pretty close to my house. It wasn't that big, but it worked for my mother and I. The Officer walked me to the door and rang the doorbell twice. Must be some kind of code to tell people that the police are here. I saw my mother looking out the window behind the curtains before she rushed to the door. The door flew open with such force that I thought Officer Curtis's cap would fly off. My mother embraced me and thanked the Officer for getting me back safely.
"Jean, let me get some ice for your head. You really do have a nasty bruise starting up. And lay down, you look like death on it's feet." My mother chided. She always was a worrywart about injuries. I guess that's why she let Dallas move to Oklahoma. Better off with horses and cowboys than gangs with guns. "And can you tell why in the world you were walking through the park at this time of day? To think what could have happened if there weren't any police officers patrolling during that time. You could have been killed." The color from my mother's face drained away. "You could have been killed."
"Yes, and I could have been raped and kidnapped also." I added, not helping one bit. "But hey, that's why the government has the taxpayers give money to support the police force, so young children like myself don't get murdered for walking out in the open."
"You really could have been killed. Your body mutilated like those corpses on the news. We might not have been even able to find your body." My mother mumbled on.
"But I have common sense. I would have found a way out. I can run-"
"No, you couldn't have Jean! You know you're a sickly child! Why, you can't even meet the standard mile time in school. What makes you think that you would possibly be able to out run gangs who have much more knowledge of the streets than you. They could corner you and bring you back to where ever they had you. They might not even do that. They might just take a gun to your head and kill you right there and then."
"Well that's not going to happen. Kids get jumped everyday, you just don't hear about it unless it was a friend or somebody went missing."
"Nothing that you are saying is helping Jean." My mother yelled at me. She looked furious, like how my teacher was when I took some of Dallas's magazines to school for show and tell. "Just go to bed, before I do something I might regret."
I woke up before my alarm clock the next morning, which was very unusual for me. My head felt sore, and I couldn't really stretch out of the ball I curled myself into. Slowly but surely, I was able to lay in a straight position. I tried to sit up. My body didn't respond. I was able to rock my body a bit, but that was it.
Idea
I started to rock, and after a few times I flipped myself over. I did this a few more times until I came a little too close to the side of my bed. The force from my last roll was able to flip me over once more than I expected. The result was my body failing to meet the ground.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea. Not only did I hurt my body more with that fall. I took everything that was on top of my bed with me in my fall. That included all my school books, multiple sheets of paper and an empty cup. I really clean up my room soon.
The only good thing about this little idea gone wrong is, the fall was able to wake my body up enough so now I can properly function. I quickly got up, changed and threw my hair up into a ponytail. A messy ponytail, but a ponytail none the less.
Sometimes I really wish I could chop off my hair and not have to deal with it. Mom would never allow that though, she says that my hair is the perfect shade of blonde and that if I cut it, my hair will get darker, and then what could I do. She always thought I would be found by a modeling company and make it big. Yeah right. Models are strong, healthy, and feminine. I am anything but that. I'm sickly, weak, and dress more and more like a boy every day. I really can't help it that I happen to find jeans comfortable, and even better, they keep me warmer than just a skirt.
That's partly how I got my nickname. I always wore jeans since I can remember. Sure they were Dallas' old ones, but they fit. When we got enough money to get some new clothes, I chose to stick with Jeans. My name's not JEAN-netta for nothing.
I took a glance at my mirror and notice how ugly of a purple my bruise was. It looked as if it belonged on a space alien rather than my face. I am really going to stand out at school today. Oh great, now everyone is going t know something happened. Usually kids can cover up their bruises, so nobody will pick on them for it. Since this thing, I hardly believe it even can be considered a bruise, is right in plain sight, I don't even have a chance. Make up isn't an option at all. Mom would never let me use it for something as trivial as covering up a bruise. Probably just make it worse and draw even more attention, since I don't like make up to begin with.
My alarm started to go off. Great, I forgot to turn it off when I woke up. Least that woke me up from my internal debate on this thing. I looked around my room, and picked up the stuff I would need for the day. Books, check, Backpack, check, Papers, check, pencils, check.
I went into the kitchen and got a drink of milk. Strange, Mom's not here, and there is no note telling me what chor-
False alarm.
There is a note. Geez, I thought I could have the day to myself. After school, that is. The note said:
Jean,
Breakfast is on the counter. I had to leave for work early today, so I asked Nick to walk with you to and from school today. Study hard and stay safe.
Great, Nick is walking me to school. No doubt she already told him everything about yesterday and more.
Nick is our next door neighbor. He's only a year older than me, but we've known him forever. Nick doesn't really care what he does, as long as he is having fun. He's always been like that, even in school. Sometimes he can be the star of a class, if he's having fun, or the worst student ever. He'd skip classes to have fun. Besides that personality trait, Nick is really average. Average height, average body. The everyday brown hair and brown eyes. Nothing real special.
Another's Notes: Hello my lovely readers. Well, it appears that I got hooked onto the novel, The Outsiders, so I decided to write my own little story. I might post more, I might not. Depends on the sort of feedback I get. Love it, hate it, want to know more then decide. That's all great with me. Just tell me via PM or reviews. It doesn't take much to review, you just press a button, the review screen thingy will pop up, and you can write your review and click the post review button. You don't even have to be a member of the fan fiction community to send me a review. So…. Review? Please.