The Death of Rob, by Johnny

By Christian C., 7th Grade

December 2019

I was at home, and there was the smell of a Grand Traverse pie in the oven and my mom’s cheap perfume.  My mom pulled out the pie and set it on the cooling rack. She asked me how school was, and it made me feel loved for once. Then she went over and cut me a big, juicy slice of pie and gave it to me. I was about to bite into the pie, but I woke up with the frantic call of my name. Ponyboy told me that we were running away. I didn’t ask any questions why we were running away, so I followed Ponyboy till we were out of breath. When we sat down, Ponyboy put his hand on my shoulder.

 ‘‘Easy Ponyboy,’’ I said softly, ‘‘we’ll be okay.’’ 

Ponyboy started to calm down and asked me for a cigarette, so I handed him one, and he lit it. After Ponyboy admitted he was scared because his brother, Darry,  hit him, I decided to tell him that he has things to have, and how I have nobody. My teachers think that I’m dumb, my mom ignorers me or yells at me so loudly that the neighbors  hear her, and my dad whips me with a two-by-four. Startled, Ponyboy said that I have the whole gang that cares and helps me. That thought made me smile, but I didn’t show it. After talking on said matters for a while, we decided to head to the park and hope that Ponyboy would calm down.  

When we arrived at the park, I asked if Ponyboy was cold. Ponyboy’s reply was that he was fine, but he was interrupted by the car horn of a Mustang. And out of the car came the Socs that beat me up. Instinctively, I reached for my switchblade and they started to surround us against the fountain.  I remembered when one day I was walking along the lot and a blue Mustang pulled up to me and the one with three rings directed his followers to pin me to the ground.  

“Nobody loves you, greaser,” as the first punch landed. 

 “You’re a bag of garbage,” and the second punch landed. 

 The third punch came and with it the final insult.“ Go home and get smashed by your idiotic  dad, with a two-by-four.”

 I shouted, ‘‘You can’t make insults about my faml” but the final blow came.

 I shook my head and looked at the guy with three rings. The one with three rings asked Ponyboy if he wanted a bath but it wasn’t a question.  One of the other Socs grabbed Ponyboy and held him underwater trying to drown him. Hate surged through me. I flicked open my switchblade and plunged the knife into the guy with the three rings. I regretted it immediately and dropped the knife in shock. He made a small gurgle. Everybody looked at me beside the dead body.  A few gasps escaped, and they started to run away in fear that they were next. I stumbled to Ponyboy and started to wake him up. In my head, I was thinking that I was next to die, but by the police shooting me in the chest over and over. “ I’m guilty’’ came in with the thought of death lagging behind. An idea came into my head, that if I ran away I wouldn’t die.