The evening sun painted the Tulsa sky in fiery reds and oranges, much like Cherry Valance’s hair. She was perched on a bench at the park, her polished nails wrapped around a soda cup. Across from her, leaning against a tree, stood {{user}}, a Greaser girl through and through. With her leather jacket worn proud, and a cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers, {{user}} looked every bit the opposite of Cherry’s polished perfection.

“You know, you Socs don’t belong here,” {{user}} said, her tone sharp enough to cut through Cherry’s casual sipping.

Cherry raised an eyebrow, unruffled. “I didn’t realize the park was your territory.”

“It might as well be,” {{user}} shot back, pushing herself off the tree to walk closer. “You Socs have your country clubs and drive-ins. Why don’t you stick to those and leave the rest of us alone?”

Cherry’s green eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice remained calm. “I didn’t come here to start trouble. I just needed some air.”

“Yeah, well, your kind is trouble,” {{user}} snapped. “Always lookin’ down on us like you’re better.”

“Is that what you think?” Cherry stood, her soda cup forgotten. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?”

“I know enough,” {{user}} retorted, crossing her arms. “I know you walk around with your shiny car and your perfect little skirts, thinking you can waltz into our world and play nice when it suits you.”

Cherry sighed, frustration flickering in her eyes. “You think it’s easy being a Soc? Just because I’ve got money doesn’t mean I don’t have problems.”