“Our friendship was like a magnetic bond, it kept us together, even if it meant being arrested or sacrificing something important. The gang was always the most important. What kept us together helped us to get by the daily problems, like safety in numbers. It still keeps the remaining members together today. After Johnny and Dally died, my whole world was a dream, until I graduated from high school. I wasn’t scared, and the urgency to do well disappeared. ”

“That happened to me too, after Bob died. I drifted in and out of reality, until my report card woke me up. I realized that life was still going on, even if wasn’t a part of it anymore. I thought about everything that happened, how I was an oblivious teenager, one of many. Then, I stopped and looked at both side’s cases, I remembered how I ceased to be a Soc, and was just in the middle of an endless battle between the two social classes.”

“I also felt like that. Before, I thought the Socs were just evil, and we were fighting because of that. There was good and bad on both sides, us stealing and the Socs instigating fights. But we responded, and took it personally, while the Socs thought it was just a fun thing to do. But, I saw that both of us were in the middle and wanted all the fighting to stop, because it was so pointless. The fighting did stop, but it cost the lives of three people that were good at heart. It was a high price, but now, hopefully, there will be no further fights, and killing.”

“It was nice to talk to you, Pony Boy. I wanted to get that out for a long time, but it hurt and embarrassed me too much to talk to my other friends about it. They wouldn’t understand, they didn’t have to go through it like you and I did. ”

“Thanks, Cherry, I feel netter now that I got it out.”

“I do too. Good-bye, Pony Boy. You’re a real friend.”

“You are too, Cherry. Bye. ”

                                     Outsiders Essay   

              "Chug, chug, chug, chug!!"  I heard in the background as I made my way over to the punch bowl. I started drinking my punch as I turned arouned and to my suprise I saw Cherry. " Cherry, Cherry is that you?"I said in a slightly suprised voice.

 "Ponyboy? I didn't  know you went here," she said in a some what happy voice.

               We started to talk about what we've been doing the past few years and somehow we started to talk about the old days." I didn't get a chance to talk to you after........well........what happened with Johnny," she said.

               " Yeah after all that death I was a bit confused, then I read this letter. It eased me up a little, and I started to read more and you know Mr. Syme who assigned me that theme?" I said.

                   "Yeah why?" she said a little confused.

                   " Well that inspired me to write!"

                   " WOW!" Cherry said amazedly.

                    " I didn't realize something so good as a passion for writing could come from something so horrible. I mean you were only fourteen when Bob got killed and then Johnny after that."
   

    Danny was different from all the other kids in Kathy Whalin's class. We didn't know that he was in that class at the time, because he wasn't generally mainstreamed with his classmates. Most of his time at school was spent time in room 6 and 7, the two connected special ed. classrooms in the school. He only occasionally spent time with his real class. Actually, I should say that he did spend most of his time with his real class, which was in room 7. The sweetest kids in the school spent most of their time there, while the rest of the school had no idea who they actually were at heart and made fun of them for how they moved or talked -- perhaps out of fear, fear of being an outcast.
    In the beginning of fifth grade, I read a really amazing book called Stuck in Neutral about a boy with Cerebral Palsy. In the book, the boy could not talk, or voluntarily move any muscle in his body. He had no way to communicate to the world. I showed this book to my teacher and told her how amazing it was and how it made me look at everything from a different perspective. I told my teacher, Mrs. Sinclair, about this book, and looking back at that year, I think that one of the reasons she chose me to be Danny's buddy was because of my interest in this book. She knew I was taken up in mental disabilities, and she knew I was responsible and caring. Even though I can't say for surte that that was the reason she chose me, I think it was part of it.
    I remember my teacher calling me up during SSR and me thinking, "Oh God, what did I do?" But what she talked to me about was not getting in trouble; it was about my first grade reading buddy. She asked me if I was interested in being buddies with a boy who wasn't learning at the rate the other kids in Kathy's class were; in other words, someone who was retarded. She said that he wasn't that easy to control, both mentally and physically, and that I should pick someone who could help me, someone who I would get along with, someone who would be open-minded to the prospect of a relationship with a special ed. kid. I couldn't choose between my two friends Connie and Isabel, so I chose them both.
    My teacher was right; Danny wasn't what you'd call easy to handle. Sometimes he would try to hurt you or run away, or do something that he couldn't do, either because it was against the rules or because he wasn't capable. Sometimes he'd get frustrated and annoyed, and you wouldn't be able to understand what was going on. Sometimes he'd try to harm you when he got like that. He'd grimace and screw up his face, and grip your arm hard. It didn't hurt, but he was trying to be unpleasant to you, and that was against the rules.
    But all of our hard work really paid off. He could be so sweet, so happy. And he really loved us. I know that when I was gone for a day, sick or on vacation, when I came back I was informed that he was asking about me. He did that for Isabel and Connie, as well.
    Danny talked in the third person. He'd always say, "Danny's dad," or "Danny's going home?" On Fridays every week he would go home early because he went to a swimming program for autistic kids. That day his father wouldn't pick him up and all day he would say, "Danny's dad's coming!" and we would tell him, "No, today is Friday. You're going swimming. Dad comes later." But he would repeat it all through the day because his dad coming was such a big part of his routine. I also remember one time where he had a toy school bus and he would sing under his breath as he apprehensively paced the inside perimeter of room 7. Isabel asked him what he was singing, and he kind of smiled and went on muttereing. Then he'd shake his head, still smiling, and we would eventually go back to talking.
    We saw Danny every day, but he wasn't the only child in room 7 we spent time with. Connie and Isabel and I would come there during lunch and SSR to see Danny and the other kids. Paavlina and Paul and Matthew and Bowmun and Will and Asher were all really important to us. Paul and Matthew were really good friends, and Paul's hair was really soft. He was really small and talked with a slight lisp. He really liked to touch people's heads. Matthew was tan with curly black hair, and he was taller than Paul but a lot quieter. When he smiled, his whole face lit up. Paavlina was loud and gave kisses, and she was small like Paul. Will was in a wheelchair but he was really smart and he and his aide developed a way of communicating because he couldn't talk. Bowmun was small and quiet and didn't come much to room 7. And Asher was loud but didn't really form words, but he was an amazing artist. He loved to draw, paint, sculpt, any medium and he'd create something.
    Sometimes I don't know how Danny's family dealt with it all. His older brother had (and still has) cancer, and with the attention and Care Danny needed it seemed like the easiest thing could've been to put Danny in some kind of center. But they chose the harder way, which was also the way that Danny was happiest, I think. Danny's dad was the sweetest guy ever, and he completely supported Danny and was really present in his life. Every day when he came to pick Danny up, Danny's face would light up and he'd yell, "Dad!" at the top of his lungs. His dad would hug him really hard and he'd also smile like this was the best part of his day. If Danny was challenging at school, I can't really imagine what it would've been like to have him at home.
    You can tell that this is a bittersweet thing for me. I hate the people who tease the retarded kids. Sometimes, during SSR, some of our class would sit outside and read. During that time, we'd go to room 7, which was right down the hall from our normal classroom. Kids would sit there and bang their hands against their chests in a "spazzy" way, or make faces or something. Retarded literally means "slow," and no one laughs at you if you can't grasp imaginary numbers when you're five. But they laugh at you if you act a certain way, or say things differently, or look different. Remembering that year of fifth grade brings back a lot of hard feelings for the people who made fun of the children in room 7. Some of the people were my friends, but not for long. They got the message from me that it was NOT OKAY to tease the room 7 kids, or any other kids with mental disabilities.
    When Connie and Isabel and I graduated from Ocean View, Danny's dad gave us all cards, flowers, and chocolate. He didn't have to, but he appreciated our work since our presence in Danny's life made a difference to Danny. He said that he would miss us and our care for Danny, and that he wished we didn't have to leave the elementary school without Danny because we were such a great team working with him. We didn't want to move on, either, if it meant losing Danny in our everyday lives, but we survived. Last year, sixth grade, I saw him every Friday at a swimming program for autistic kids I volunteered in (the same one I mentioned before). I also participated in an adapted P.E. program. I wouldn't have done those things without Danny's presence in my life two years ago. I still come back to the memories of him and realize how much I miss him. At timea I wish I could be at Ocean View again so that I could see him every day like in fifth grade. Writing this paper reminds me of how big of a connection we had and how it changed my outlook on life. I never would have done the programs I did without him, never would have made some of the friends I have at the middle school, never would have discovered the cruel side of some of my peers without him. And most importantly, I gave him something, too. I gave him my love and care and friendship. He taught me so much. Danny changed my life.

                                          A Special Person
    A man with a lazy eye and a crooked finger suddenly ceased his blathering. Our principal, Bob, rolled out in his wheelchair, the wheels squeaking steadily. A woman stood next to him. She must've been about thirty, with hair like melting chocolate, and flawless olive skin that you could tell was smooth. She had black rimmed glasses, a quiet smile, and a shy expression.
    "This, kids, is Mara,"everyone knew who she was, or at least, we were pretty sure."She's the new four/five teacher." We were right.
    She smiled a little bigger, shyly waved, and quietly said "Hi." That's all she said.
    "She, as you know, is replacing Tim," Bob loudly began. He said something else, but my eyes were too busy looking at Mara for my ears to work.
    I was in Mara's class. Room six. She never wore her glasses. I always wondered about that. Fourth grade must've been difficult for her. I was so dreadfully annoying, as were a lot of my classmates. She never got angry. Never yelled. That's what I loved about her.
    On the last day of fourth grade, which was also my tenth birthday, we were doing appreciations. I spoke really softly. She couldn't hear me. I'm not going to lie. I really didn't like Mara that day. I tried to speak up. After a while of someone telling you to be loud, you just want to well, be loud. Scream. Tell them to shut up. I did, terribly enough, just that. I threw a two year old tantrum with some excuse about how it was "MY BIRTHDAY!!!!" She didn't get mad, she stayed calm.
    Mara was such an adventurer. She went to Madagascar the summer between fourth and fifth grade with a group of scientists to study the Slick Fossa, a relative of the mongoose, and an increasingly endangered species found soley on Madagascar.
   The first day of fifth grade was awkward to say the least. When you don't see someone for a while, and you did something reaaly stupid the last time you saw them, you basically hope they forgot about it. She probably didn't, but she acted like she did, which was good, because I had calmed down, and stopped being so annoying. We learned so many interesting things that year about Madagascar and her amazing trip there the previous summer. I really remember her teaching us that more than 80% of the animals that live on Madagascar live only on Madagascar. We also wrote complaint letters to Celestial Seasonings tea, because on their Madagascar Vanilla Red Tea box, none of the animals were from Madagascar. They sent us a generic letter that was saccharin and crushing.
    "We are so glad to hear from our customers..." They sent us magnets, free tea, and an invitation to come to their factory if we ever found ourselves in Boulder, Colorado, but nothing that indicated they even read our letters. They changed the box, but don't be happy yet. They changed it from a lion, a giraffe, a zebra, and an antelope to just a giant lion. I don't think they got the point, but Mara was proud of us for being the little activists that we were. She was so amazing. Although she kept it well hidden, Mara had been diagnosed with some parasite that she supposedly caught in Madagascar.
    I also remember studying Venezuela in spanish class, and doing a presentation on it. The class was over and I wouldn't shut up. She gently took me aside to tell me to stop, and I was so embarrassed that I made something of it, and swore that I 'HATED' her. I didn't. She didn't get mad at me. She brushed it off. When we graduated from Aurora, my elementary school, she wrote in my yearbook
    "I wish you all the best, I will miss you, love, Mara."
    Mara went scuba diving in Honduras. She broke a rib. She went to the doctor. He told her some terrifying news. Remember that parasite? It was colon cancer. She was thirty two.
    Mara spent the next year in experimental therapy. She always said she would come back to Aurora. At the traditional six month reunion, I saw her. She had lost a lot of weight, she was pale, her skin had lost it's warm, olive glow. Her chocolate hair was now thin, and graying.
    Jokingly I did something a little rude to this girl in my old class. I told her I got my ears peirced. She said "They weren't before?"
    I said laughingly "Wow, you don't notice details." Mara scowled at me. I suddenly said "Just kidding." loud enough for her to hear. The scowl relaxed from her face. I didn't talk to her the rest of the night. I figured I would see her at some Aurora function in a couple of months.
    Remember that whole thing about when you see someone after not seeing them, and you did something stupid before, and you hope they forgot about it? Well, I hope she forgot about it. I'll never know. I got an invitation to her memorial service a couple weeks ago. She was thirty three years old. Too young.

    "Johnny, your friend... he passed away didn't he?" Cherry said silently to Ponyboy as they sat on the bench.
    "Yeah, Dally too... he's also gone now," Ponyboy replied with a sunkene expression on his face. Ponyboy knew this was how this conversation was going to start out. This was five years after Johnny's death. After Johnny died, most of the gang got torn up, Dally and Johnny both, on the same night. It was too much. After the deaths Ponyboy tried to hide everything he thought about it. Johnny had considered Dally as a god, a saint. Ponyboy recalled the shy, expression on Johnny's face while with the rest of the gang and how it hardened as soon as a Soc came into view. The battered look he had after being beaten by his dad was weary and tired.
    "I'm sorry to hear that Ponyboy... That night Bob was drunk, I wish I could rewind it, to take back all the pain."
    "Like you said to me, the night we met, things are rough all over. It's time we start to live with it."
    "And now you and Darry are getting along, aren't you?"
    "Yeah, most of the time. We're good now. The gang is real beat up after Johnny's death though. It's like having someone that's always been there disappearing, a major part of your life, just gone. We miss him. Nervous wreck as he was, we all miss him. I doubt there wouldn't be anything we wouldn't give to have him back with us." Before I knew it, tears were running down my cheeks. I've never told anybody what I really thought after the event. I wanted to tell Cherry everything to just open up to her. People started staring at me now, people that were walking past. I was shamed of breaking down like this, but Johnny waas gone. "Cherry, life is unfair, the way the Socs and Greasers fight all the time. The war between both of our gangs. We risk everything and nothing. That night he passed away he told me to stay gold. To watch sunsets and to know that there's good in the world. Johnny left me a note asking me to tell Dally that there's still time to change, to become what we really want. I'm tired, Cherry, of all this fighting, all this useless trouble we go through."
    "Ponyboy, your friend Johnny saw what life really was, how important it really is, it was just too late for him. If there really is a future for the Socs and Greasers I want to be part of it. There probably are good people out there, people that would lend a hand despite the fact of you being a Greaser or Soc."
    As I thought over what Cherry just said, I realized it was true. It all happened too late for Johnny. He was the best buddy anyone could wish for. And the day he died he found out the world was good, it was something worth living for.
    "Cherry," I started, "Johnny wanted to see more, I know he did. Johnny didn't deserve to die. Those sixteen years he had weren't long enough, heck, he even said it himself, poor guy, he didn't get to see as much as he would like to."
    The part was starting to end. People, instead of milling around began to head back to their cars as it was getting dark. A slight drizzle started to fall from the partly cloudy sky. It felt nice and cold, washing away my tears. I don't know how long Cherry and I sat there. It seemed like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes. Only a couple of people were left and we decided to leave as well.
    "Ponyboy, hardships are everywhere, I hope you won't end up doing something stupid, like Dally or something outrageously heroic, like Johnny. You've been the only person that I've been able to talk to about things. Darry and Soda care about you. You should know that. The gang does too, we all care," Cherry said in a slightly quiet tone as she started to stand up.
    Getting to my feet myself, I got to my feet by pushing against the armrests of the now dampened bench. I stared up at the sky, while the bright sun slowly unravled itself from the veil of the clouds.
    "From now on Cherry, I am going to try to achieve what Johnny wanted to be, which was something more. It's going to be a new beginning." Later, Cherry and I each went home, but i kept on thinking about what Johnny said. His words were with me, keeping me away from dangerous things and telling me to be mindful of my actions. Sometimes it feels as if he's with me, always watching out for me. Sort of like a guardian angel. It's a strange feeling, and I know that his soul and words live on within all of us, the gang, Cherry, and me.