Theres Nuthin' Like Racin' to Settle Your Differences

Some of the gang went to California for spring break this week, I stayed behind to work, so did Steve. Kit, Jelly, and the rest of the girls had "girls only" parties every night alternating between each other's house. Last night it was at our house, so Steve and I slept over at Dally's and decided to go to a drag race the next day.
    Drag races are held every other Wednesday on the edge of town on a strip down by the river. It costs thirty dollars to enter with your own car, fifty to rent one, and five for admission to watch. And if you beat everyone out, you win all the entry money, which averaged out anywhere between three-hundred and a thousand bucks, consisting of about ten to thirty racers. Sometimes soc's would come by just to start fights, and prove that their cars were better than ours, though they were not allowed to compete for the prize money.
    The weather was nice so we expected a lot of people to show up and they did, there was twenty-six racers so we knew we had a full day ahead of us. Typically there are two races going at once and you choose which you wanna watch. The whole thing could last up to eight hours. We got there at nine and races were scheduled to start at ten. We walked around looking at the cars and their racers, I recognized some of them. One guy always comes into the DX for regular check-ups on his car, and a few guys were from a grease gang called the Skinz, who pretty much live on the outskirts in shacks and under bridges. You think we got it bad, try a night with these guys.
    We went out for lunch around two when they hold off the races for an hour so everyone can go eat or do touch-ups on their cars. I slid in the booth next to Steve, who had already downed his first hamburger. I looked across the table as Dal who had barely touched his food, which was very out of character for him.
   "What's up Dal?" I asked, already knowing full well what was wrong.
   "Nuthin good Curtis." He shook his head and stared at his food.
About a week ago, Rhyan ended their relationship cause she said she needed to focus on taking care of her brother. Which, in my opinion, would probably take a lifetime, Owen was nothing but trouble. I kinda felt bad for the girl though, of course I'd give up anything for my siblings, but when it controlled my life like that..I dunno, you can't just stop living your own life to help someone better theirs.
   "You really liked her, huh?" I said.
Dallas just shrugged and stuffed his mouth with french fries. I've known Dal since I was little. We were in kindergarten together, and besides the few years he spent in his early teen years in New York, we've been pretty close, just like I am with the rest of the gang. I knew his reputation, his wild nights partying and hooking up with girls, even the few relationship he actually perused, but they weren't like this one. This was another one of those subtle things that I always noticed. Somehow she made him different, in a good way. Dal's past has been almost nothing but dark and gloomy, and finally something had sparked in his life...hope.
    We finished eating and headed back to the strip, and to our dismay waiting for us was one Bob Sheldon.
   "What the hell is he doing here," Steve asked, "isn't he a little too far from home?"
Occasionally other socs would show up here, but never Bob. He glanced our way, that devilish grin playing on his face.
   "Just the greasers I wanted to see." He said, then hawked and spit only inches from our approaching feet.
   "What the hell do you want Sheldon?" I asked.
   "Oh, just thought I'd stop by, see how you're doin.." He circled us and then leaned into Dallas, "...though I heard not too well. I see your pretty little greaser left ya..." I could see that Dallas was ready to slit Bob's throat. "...though I don't see why she wastes her time with greasers when she clearly has all it takes to be a Soc." he continued.
Bob was right, Owen and Rhyan could be Socs if they wanted to, just like Darry, but they sought real friendship rather than just a social status.
"I might have to pay her a little visit later." Bob added.
That did it for Dallas, he snapped and laid one across Bob's left cheek that was bound to leave a bruise for weeks. Someone behind us yelled,
   "Hey, there's no fighting here Winston!"
   "Fine!" Dallas said. "We'll settle this with a race."
And it was on!