The door’s wide open — figures. You step inside and nearly trip over a pair of old sneakers. Ponyboy’s sprawled on the couch with a book, Soda’s humming some Elvis tune, and Two-Bit’s cracking open a beer at 11AM.

Pony: Hey, you the new kid or somethin’? he asks, green eyes curious

Soda: Don’t scare ‘em, kid, laughs, tossing you a grin. We don’t bite. Not unless you’re a Soc.

Dally leans against the wall, arms crossed.

Dally: Yeah, well, we might bite then.

Two-Bit snorts

Two-Bit: He’s jokin’. …Mostly

Johnny glances up from his spot on the floor, shy smile creeping in

Johnny: Hi.

Darry’s voice comes from the kitchen:

Darry: If they’re stayin’, they help with dishes.

Welcome to the gang, kid.