In literacy class, we have a project that we have to do on the outsiders. I chose to write a story about something that didn’t actually happen in the book. I ended up writing about the interview with S.E. Hinton, where she mentioned that Soda was drafted to Vietnam. I would love it if you checked it out! Thanks so much!!
Point of View
I was on my way home from the movies, laughing and
talking with my friend Two-Bit Matthews. He was going on about some blonde
chick who had been sitting in front of us. I just rolled my eyes and laughed,
because the same exact thing had happened last week, with a different girl he
had spotted at the drive-in.
He was going on and on, and he didn’t realize where
we had ended up. But I did. I hadn’t been here in what seemed like forever. And
I definitely didn’t want to be here now.
“Hey, Two?” I asked quietly. My eyes were wide.
“Yeah Ponyboy?” he replied, glancing over at me.
“Can we go another way?” My voice was barely
He glanced around. When he realized where we were,
he nodded and blinked back tears.
We were standing in the abandoned lot where I use to
hang out with my best friend Johnny. It had been over a year and two months
since he died, but I still avoided the place. When I was here, the only thing
on my mind was Johnny. I wasn’t depressed all of the time like I was for the
first few months after he died, but I still missed him.
I was doing alright now though. I had my brothers,
Sodapop and Darry, and our friends, Two-Bit and Steve. We were all we had left,
so we had to stick together.
Two-Bit and I walked home another way. He left me at
my front door and stepped inside, glancing around for Soda and Darry. I saw
them both sitting on the couch, hugging each other and crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, panicked. “What happened?”
Soda stood up, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Hey
Ponyboy,” he said, smiling weakly.
I noticed Darry was holding a piece of paper in his
hands. “What’s that?” I asked, afraid of what the answer would be.
“Pony,” Soda began, voice shaky. “I’ve been drafted
into the army. I’m going to fight in Vietnam.”
I stared at him in shock. This wasn’t happening. I
“Ponyboy,” Darry began, but I cut him off.
“You can’t go,” I said firmly. “You can’t.”
“Pony, I don’t want to go,” Soda replied sadly. “But
I have to.”
My eyes welled up with tears. “Don’t leave us Soda,”
I whispered. “Don’t leave us.”
“Ponyboy,” Soda started to say something, but I didn’t
hear. I turned on my heels and ran out the door. Eyes blurring with tears, I
didn’t even notice where I was going.
I sunk to my knees in the abandoned lot. I wished I
could talk to Johnny right now. He would know what to do.
Soda couldn’t leave! What if he died? I didn’t think
I could handle losing another person I loved. Soda had said it himself, talking
to me and Darry. “We’re all we’ve got
The next morning I woke up to find myself back in my
own bed. Soda and Darry must have found me and carried me home.
“Morning, Ponyboy.” Soda stepped into the room.
I wondered if last night had even been real. Maybe
it had all been nothing more than a nightmare.
“Hi Soda,” I mumbled, sitting up in bed.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “I mean, after
My heart sank. So it hadn’t been a dream after all.
I swallowed hard.
“Listen, Pony, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered,
sitting beside me.
“Promise me you’ll come home,” I said.
He smiled sadly. “I promise.”
Three days later, a man in an army uniform was
standing outside our door, waiting to take Soda away from us. I didn’t cry this
time, not wanting Soda’s last memory of his little brother to be of me bawling
like a baby. I had to be brave. For Sodapop.
“Don’t worry, Ponyboy,” Soda smiled, hugging me one
last time. “I’ll come home.”
I only nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Soda
straightened himself and grinned. “Take care of Darry for me.” I nodded again,
and he turned and followed the strange man away. I prayed that this would not
be the last time I ever saw my brother.
“Pony, come quick!” Darry shouted up the stairs. “We
got a letter! From Soda!”
I sprinted down the stairs, taking them two at a
time. “From Soda?!” I screamed. We both sat on the couch and Darry read the
letter out loud.
my favorite brothers, Ponyboy and Darry,
guys! How are you doing? I’m alright. I’m a bit homesick, and I miss you so
much. How’s the gang? Tell Steve I miss him and things just aren’t the same
without him. Tell Two-Bit I wish I could talk to him again, and that I miss him
too, even if he is a bit annoying. Haha. I’ll be home soon. You two take care
of each other, okay? I love you guys.
I could almost hear his voice in every word. It was
almost as if he was sitting beside me, and not thousands of miles away.
I missed him so much.
Point of View
I hate this place. I want nothing more than to go
home, to get away from this living hell.
In my letters to Ponyboy and Darry, I tried my best
to sound like everything is okay. I did my best to sound like I don’t wish I
was dead every day when I wake up in the morning. I did my best to sound like I’m
not slowly dying inside with every passing hour. I did my best to pretend that
I don’t cry myself to sleep every night, when no one can see.
War is hell. No word can describe it better than
that one. Every day I see guys just like me die. Sometimes, I see my new
friends falling to the ground, with a bullet through their brain. Other times,
I’m the one behind the trigger.
I tell myself over and over again that it’s not my
fault. I tell myself that if I don’t kill these enemy soldiers, they will kill me, or any number of other people.
By doing this, I’m protecting innocent people. I’m saving lives.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I killed a
human being. Sometimes I wonder if they had been drafted into this mess, same
as me. I sometimes wonder if that guy I just killed had a family waiting for
him back home, missing him. He wouldn’t be going home now.
Whenever I faced a line of enemy soldiers, all I
could see was a line of scared kids, like me. Most soldiers were my age, or a
couple years older. Eighteen is too young to be fighting and killing people.
Everyone in this war had long lives ahead of them. Many of them will die, and
never have the opportunity to get married, pursue a career, or raise a family.
Those who survive will never be the same again. We will always be broken,
always faking a smile to hide the pain and fear. Eighteen is too young. We were
just getting starting. We are too young.
Point of View
I woke up screaming. I sat bolt upright in bed,
drenched in cold sweat and shivering.
Darry came bursting in. “Pony, what’s wrong?” he
shouted, eyes wild with panic.
I was trembling. “I…I had another one of those
dreams. The one I can’t remember.”
His eyes widened and he sat on the bed next to me.
He hugged me. “Shh…It’s alright Ponyboy, I’m here,” he whispered.
“Darry, I’m scared,” I was crying now. “I’ve only
ever had these dreams when someone died.”
“What are you talking about?” Darry asked,
“I first started having these dreams right after mom
and dad died, and then again right before we lost Johnny and Dally.” Tears were
sliding down my cheeks and my breathing was heavy. “I’m worried about Soda.”
Darry hugged me. “No, Pony, he’ll be alright. It’s
just a dream. It’s going to be okay.”
His voice echoed inside my head. It’s going to be okay.
Point of View
I am shaking uncontrollably. I feel sick inside. I
want to die. I want to die. I want to die.
I can’t believe it. I saw it with my own two eyes,
yet it can’t be true.
had just arrived in a small Vietnamese village. We were tired from the battle we
had just fought. I remember seeing a civilian, a middle-age Vietnamese woman,
whisper something to her son, a young boy who couldn’t be older than six. She
pointed to a small group of our soldiers standing a little bit away from where
I was. The child began walking over to the soldiers.
child was talking to the soldiers. Out of nowhere, there was a small explosion.
Many of the soldiers were dead. So was the child.
I realized what had happened. The mother had attached a grenade to her
six-year-old son, and sent him to talk to the soldiers. She knew full-well her
son would be killed, but, so long as she could take out a few American
soldiers, it was worth it.
How could she not have cared? I remembered myself,
shaking with anger, raising my gun and shooting the wicked civilian woman
through the heart. And I laughed as she died.
The months drag on. I hate this place. I hate this
place. I hate this place. I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away. I am
losing my mind! I wish I were home. That’s the one thing in this whole damn
world I want! To go home! Is that so much to ask for?
I run through the thick
jungles. It is pouring rain. I hear the guy next to me curse under his breath.
Another day, another fight for our lives.
I see the Vietnamese soldiers emerge from the trees.
I take out a few before I see something out of the corner of my eye that
catches my attention.
I see a Vietnamese solider, with a gun pointed at
Steve Randle’s turned back.
My best friend from back home, Steve, had been
drafted into the war only three months ago. I had missed him so much. Along with
Ponyboy and Darry, thinking of him helped me get through each day.
When I saw him for the first time in what felt like
forever, I broke down and cried. I had missed him more than I could possibly
describe, but I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want him to have to go through
this hell. Most of all, I was terrified I was going to be forced to watch him
die, the same as I had watched so many others die. I wouldn’t be able to take
Now, I don’t know anything. I only know he is in
I charge through the mass of soldiers. I hear
someone shouting at me, telling me to get back, but I ignore the voice.
I feel my body slam against Steve’s, knocking him
out of the way just as the soldier pulls the trigger. Pain shoots through me. I
hear Steve’s voice screaming my name, and then everything is black.
Point of View
I walked through the door and threw my school bag on
the floor. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. I had had a long day
at school. I was having a bit of trouble in math class and I was tired.
Darry came out of the kitchen and told me to start
on my homework. I groaned and started shuffling through my bag, looking for my
I heard a knock on the front door. Darry walked over
and opened the door. Standing outside is a man in an army uniform. He was
holding a piece of paper. Darry took it and read it silently.
When he turned to me, his face was white and
tear-streaked. “Soda,” he choked. “He’s dead.”
Nonononononono. This was not happening. My sweet, caring, happy-go-lucky brother was not dead!
“You’re lying!” I screamed. “He’s not dead! You’re
lying to me!” Even as I said it, I knew Darry wouldn’t lie to me about anything,
let alone something like this. Soda
really was dead.
Darry crumpled the note in his hand and hurled it
across the room. His body tensed and suddenly, he slammed against the wall. “Dammit!”
he screamed, face contracted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hands
shaking in fury, he pushed over a lamp that was sitting on a small table. It
fell to the ground and shattered.
I sunk to my knees. The pain of losing Soda hurt
more than if one the shards from the lamp had pierced my heart.
Suddenly, Darry bolted. He ran out the door, pushing
the man out of the way.
In my mind, I saw another boy, only seventeen years
old, breaking down in a hospital room, crying and slamming against the wall. I
saw him running out the door. I saw him running outside in the pouring rain, a
gun in his hand, the police chasing him. I saw him crumple to the ground.
God. I raced after my older brother. When I found him, he
was standing in the abandoned lot. He was holding a gun in his shaking hands.
The gun was pointed at himself.
Panic surged through me. I ran faster. “Darry!” I
screamed his name.
I felt my body crash against his, knocking him to
the ground. The gun fall out of his hand.
Tears flooded down my cheeks. “Darry,” I gasped. “Please
don’t leave me.”
He hugged me tightly. “Pony, I’m sorry, I wasn’t
thinking,” he whispered. “It’s just, I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe
he’s really gone.”
“I know,” I whimpered. “I miss him.” It suddenly hit
me with full force that I was never going
to see him again.
I look at him. “But someone once told me that you
don’t stop living because you lose someone.”
He tried to smile, but a fresh wave of tears
cascaded down his cheeks.
“We’re all we have left,” I whispered. “We’ll be