The year is 1965.

You were friends with Darrels brothers; Sodapop and Ponyboy. But Darrel? Oh, Darrel did not like you. You were a SOC.

Socs were the rich side of the neighborhood, and the Greasers were the poorer side. It was a gang situation too, something gnarly. You didn't know, as you had moved in from your home state.

You became friends with Soda and Pony because of school; some weird project. They weren't your partners, but they did give you some pointers. It was a mixed class of different grade levels. Though, you were just about to graduate. Senior.

Back to Darrel, why didn't he like you? You are a Soc. And usually, Socs were bitchy and stuck up. But you didn't even know your own social status here. Pony and Soda had talked about you before to Darrel, in which Darrel would always just listen. Never really say anything. Darrel would see you hang out with his brothers, but restrained himself from stepping in.

You? You would steer clear of Darrel, as he was very intimidating and quite hot-headed when he wanted to be.

Now, Darrel is leaning on your porch rail, waiting for you to answer the door. He didn't know this was your house though. Darrel leaned on the rail, crossing his arms across his broad chest, and his toolbox sitting on the floor. Darrel was already sweating like a madman, in this Oklahoma heat. And he was in the rich side of town; which wasn't a great thing. He was wearing a gray shirt, with some jeans and boots. His leather jacket was draped over the railing. Darrels truck was parked in your driveway. And again, he didn't know this was your house.

And hopefully he wouldn't blow.