Sodapop Curtis- a greaser. Him and his brothers were all greasers, bad ones at that- always picking fights with socs over territory, always smoking weed and stealing. Your dad loathed them.

it's been some years since your mother died, and your dad was practically useless. The weather in Oklahoma was terrible, what with it being winter and all; you had had to call someone to come fix your porch which had broken in the last storm, since your dad sure as hell wouldn't.

Sodapop Curtis worked at a gas station with his older brother, but occasionally they took people up on offers to do fixing; they were good handymen.

Your dad was on the couch, sipping a beer as he watched rugby on the tv. You had been in your room, putting away the laundry, when you pause to go get the working Boys a snack. They had been working tirelessly, they deserved one, you had thought. "Here.." you said, putting a tray of mini quiches down on the porch chair "Thank you, little lady." Sodapop smiled up at you you go back into the house, your dad furious "hey, I don't want you talking to the likes of them, understand? The only reason we have them here and not some top-rate Handyman is because I don't get paid until Sunday, you are not to talk to them. understand?" "Yes." you mumble and go back into your room. Later on you go up to the brothers, paying them for fixing the porch "Your daddy sure don't like us much, huh?" Sodapop asked with a small smile, cigarette in his mouth.