Chapter Text
When i step out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I only had two things on my mind: Tea on Rice and a ride home. I wished i had tea on rice right now, that'd probably make me feel much better. It'd probably make my bangs look better but i rather let my silvery, cut stay sharp as usual. It make me look tough. My hair is more of a whitish type of hair, with a black stripe. Kinda like those white tiger myths. That what they call me, but I'm a greaser. And this is my story.
I had a long walk home and no company, but I usually lone it anyway, for no reason except that I like to watch movies undisturbed so I can get into them and live them with the actors. When I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable, like having someone read your book over your shoulder. I'm differen that way. I mean, my second-oldest brother, Osamu , who is sixteen-going-on-seventeen, never cracks a book at all, and my oldest brother, Doppo, who we call, Doppy, works too long and hard to be interested in a stories or drawing a picture, so I'm not like them. And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do.For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. So I loned it. Osamu tries to understand, at least, which is more than Doppy does. But then, Osamu is different from anybody;he understands everything, almost. Like he's never Scolding at me all the time the way doppy is, or treating me as if I was six instead of fourteen. I love Osamu more than I've ever loved anyone, even Mom and Dad.He's always happy-go-lucky and grinning, while Doppy's hard and firm and rarely grins at all. But then,Doppy's gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast. Osamu'll never grow up at all. I don't know which way's the best. I'll find out one of these days. Anyway, I went on walking home, thinking about the movie, and then suddenly wishing I had some company. Greasers can't walk alone too much or they'll get jumped, or someone will come by and scream "Greaser!" at them, which doesn't make you feel too hot, if you know what I mean. We get jumped by the Socs. I'm not sure how you spell it, but it's the abbreviation for the Socials, the jet set, the West-side richkids. It's like the term "greaser," which is used to class all us boys on the East Side.We're poorer than the Socs and the middle class. I reckon we're wilder, too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and wreck houses and throw beer blasts for kicks, and get editorials in the paper for being a public disgrace one day and an asset to society the next. Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and driveold souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while. I don't mean I do thingslike that. Doppy would kill me if I got into trouble with the police. Since Mom and Dad were killed in anauto wreck, the three of us get to stay together only as long as we behave. So Osamu and I stay out of trouble as much as we can, and we're careful not to get caught when we can't.The main reason I say that is because Osamu got in trouble witht he cops more times than I can count before Mom and dad died. Although I only mean that most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in blue jeans and T-shirts, or leave our shirt tail sout and wear leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not saying that either Socs or greasers are better;that's just the way things are.I could have waited to go to the movies until Doppy or Osamu got off work. They would have gone with me, or driven me there, or walked along, although Osamu just can't sit still long enough to enjoy a movie and they bore Doppy to death. Doppy thinks his life is enough without inspecting other people's. Or I could have gotten one of the gang to come along, one of the four boys Doppy and Oaamu and I have grown up with and consider family. We're almost as close as brothers; when you grow up in a tight-knit neighborhood like ours you get to know each other real well. If I had thought about it, I could have called Doppy and he would have come by on his way home and picked me up, or Ranpo--- one of our gang--- would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but sometimes I just don't use my head. It drives my brother Doppy nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a highIQ and everything, but I don't use my head. Besides, I like walking.I about decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I spotted that red Corvair trailing me. I was almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking a little faster. I had never been jumped, but I had seen Kenji after four Socs got hold of him, and it wasn't pretty.
Kenji was scared of his own shadow after I knew it wasn't any use though--- the fast walking, I mean--- even before the Corvair pulled up beside meand five Socs got out. I got pretty scared--- I'm kind of small for fourteen even though I have a good build,and those guys were bigger than me. I automatically hitched my thumbs in my jeans and slouched,wondering if I could get away if I made a break for it. I remembered Kenji --- his face all cut up andbruised, and I remembered how he had cried when we found him, half-conscious, in the comer lot. Kenji had it awful rough at home--- it took a lot to make him cry. I was sweating something fierce, although I was cold. I could feel my palms getting clammy and theperspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm real scared. I glanced around for a pop bottleor a stick or something--- Oda, Osamu's best buddy, had once held off four guys with a busted popbottle--- but there was nothing. So I stood there like a bump on a log while they surrounded me. I don't usemy head. They walked around slowly, silently, smiling."Hey, grease," one said in an over-friendly voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser. We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off."He had on a madras shirt. I can still see it. Blue madras. One of them laughed, then cussed me out in a lowvoice. I couldn't think of anything to say. There just isn't a whole lot you can say while waiting to getmugged, so I kept my mouth shut."Need a haircut, greaser?" The medium-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped theblade open.I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that knife. Of course I backed right into one of them. They had me down in a second. They had my arms and legs pinned down and one ofthem was sitting on my chest with his knees on my elbows, and if you don't think that hurts, you're crazy. I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything. I was scared so bad I was wishing I would. I fought to get loose, and almost didfor a second; then they tightened up on me and the one on my chest slugged me a couple of times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A blade was held against my throat."How'd you like that haircut to begin just below the chin?"It occurred to me then that they could kill me. I went wild. I started screaming for Osamu, Doppy, anyone. Someone put his hand over my mouth, and I bit it as hard as I could, tasting the blood running through myteeth. I heard a muttered curse and got slugged again, and they were stuffing a handkerchief in my mouth.One of them kept saying, "Shut him up, for Pete's sake, shut him up!"Then there were shouts and the pounding of feet, and the Socs jumped up and left me lying there, gasping. I lay there and wondered what in the world was happening--- people were jumping over me and running by me and I was too dazed to figure it out. Then someone had me under the armpits and was hauling me to myfeet. It was Doppy."Are you all right, Atsuahi?"He was shaking me and I wished he'd stop. I was dizzy enough anyway. I could tell it was Doppy though---partly because of the voice and partly because Doppy's always rough with me without meaning to be."I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Doppy, I'm okay."He stopped instantly. "I'm sorry." Whenever Doppy says sorry I sometimes struggle to be live him. Doppy isn't ever sorry for anything he does most of the times. It seems funny to me that he should look just exactly like my father and act exactly the opposite from him. My father was only forty when he died and he looked twenty-five and a lot of people thought Doppy and Dad were brothers instead of father and son. But they only looked alike--- my father was never rough with anyone without meaning to be.
Doppy is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has long and I mean extremely long hair you wouldnt even believe me Of I told you how long it was, it was a dark-dirty blond hair that is usually tied up in the back--- but Doppy's eyes are a beautiful dark shade of green with tints of gray. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty--- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so serious all the time. He doesn't understand anything that is not plain hard facts in ideals. But he uses his head.
I sat down again, rubbing my cheek where I'd been slugged the most. Doppy jammed his fists in his pockets. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?" They did. I was aching extremely bad and my chest was sore and I was so nervous my hands were shaking and I wanted to start bawling, but you just don't say that to Doppy."I'm okay." Osamu came loping back. By then I had figured that all the noise I had heard was the gang coming to rescue me. He dropped down beside me, examining my head."You got cut up a little, huh, Atsushi?" I only looked at him blankly. "I did?"He pulled out a handkerchief, wet the end of it with his tongue, and pressed it gently against the side of myhead. "You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."
"I am?"
"Look!" He showed me the handkerchief, reddened as if by magic. "Did they pull a blade on you?"I remembered the voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" The blade must have slipped while he was trying toshut me up. "Yeah."Osamu is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Doppy--- Osamu's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Doppy, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.He's got dark-brown hair that he combs back--- it's definitely on the shorter side compared to the rest of the gang and silky and straight--- His eyes are dark brown--- lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes that can be gentle and sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next. but Soda is one of a kind. He can get drunk in a drag race or dancing without ever getting near alcohol. In our neighborhood it's rare to find a kid who doesn't drink once in a while. But Osamu never touches a drop--- he doesn't need to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.
He looked at me more closely. I looked away hurriedly, because, if you want to know the truth, I was starting to bawl. I knew I was as white as I felt and probably as white asy hair and I was shaking like a leaf. Osamu just put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Atsushi, They ain't gonna hurt you no more." "I know," I said, but the ground began to blur and I felt hot tears running down my cheeks. I brushed them away impatiently. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all." I drew a quivering breath and quit crying. You just don't cry in front of Doppy. Not unless you're hurt like Kenji had been that day we found him in the abandoned farm Field. Compared to kenji I wasn't hurt at all. Osamu rubbed my hair. "You're an okay kid, Atsushi."I had to grin at him--- Osamu can make you grin no matter what. I guess it's because he's always grinning so much himself. "You're crazy, Osamu, out of your mind. I mean most of the time you are but still" Doppy looked as if he'd like to knock our heads together. "You're both nuts." Osamu merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Ranpo. "It seems to run in this family."Doppy stared at him for a second, then cracked a grin.
Osamu isn't afraid of him like everyone else and enjoys teasing him. I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly; but for some reason, Doppy seems to like being teased by Osamu. Our gang had chased the Socs to their car and heaved rocks at them. They came running toward us now---four lean, tuff guys. They were all as tough as nails and looked it. l had grown up with them, and they accepted me, even though I was younger, because I was Doppy and Osamu's kid brother and I kept my mouthshut good.
Sakunosuke Oda was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls.He was tacky, smart, and Osamu's best buddy since grade school. Sakunosuke's specialty was cars. He could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood, but he also knew cars upside-down and backward, and he could drive anything on wheels. He and Soda worked at the same gas station--- Sakunosuke part time and Osamu full time--- and their station got more customers than any other in town. Whether thatwas because Sakunosuke was so good with cars or because Osamu attracted girls like honey draws flies, I couldn't tell you. I liked Sakunosuke only because he was Osamu's best friend. He didn't like me but he hid that fact well
Ranpo Edogawa was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. He was about five-six feet tall,stocky in build, and very proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. He had brought green eyes and a wide grin, and he couldn't stop making funny remark. Life was one big joke to Ranpo . He was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade (which he couldn't have acquired without his first talent), and he was always smarting off to the cops. He really couldn't help it. Everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dull lives. (That's the way he explained it to me.) He liked fights,mysteries, and for some unfathomable reason, school. He was still a junior at eighteen and a half and henever learned anything. He just went for kicks. I liked him real well because he kept us laughing atourselves as well as at other things. He reminded me of Will Rogers--- maybe it was the grin.
If I had to pick the real character of the gang, it would be Chuuya Nakahara--- ChuChu. I used to like to draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood, for then I could get his personality down in a few lines. His hair was almost Completely Orange hair almost the exact color of an Orange, and he didn't like haircuts, or hair oil either, so his hair was pulled over to one side. One side of his hair was cut off and another side had a very long strain of hair, He claims that it was back in his time at Paris for three years. ChuChu had heterochromia with a bright blue on ones and A dark shade of brown on his other eye. They were cold with a hatred of the whole world even though I could see some softness in his eyes occasionally no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He acted tougher than the rest of us---tougher, colder, meaner. He was as wild as the boys in the downtown outfits, like Ryuunosuke Akutagawa’s gang. In Paris, ChuChu blew off steam in gang fights, but here, organized gangs are rarities--- there are just small bunches of friends who stick together, and the warfare is between the social classes. A rumble, when it's called, is usually born of a grudge fight, and the opponents just happen to bring their friends along. Oh,there are a few named gangs around, like the River Kings and the Tiber Street Tigers, but here in the Southwest there's no gang rivalry. So ChuChu, even though he could get into a good fight sometimes, had no specific thing to hate. No rival gang. Only Socs. And you can't win against them no matter how hard you try, because they've got all the breaks and even whipping them isn't going to change that fact. Maybe that was why ChuChu tried to be so bitter. He had quite a reputation. They have a file on him down at the police station. He had been arrested, he got drunk, he rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, rolled drunks--- he did everything, I mean He never jumped kids though, Which I mean I respect him for that. Other than that I didn't like him, but he was smart and you had to respect him. Kenji Miyazawa was last and least. If you can picture a little baby Cow that has been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of horses, then you'd have Kenji. He was the youngest, next to me, smaller than then the rest, with a slight build. He had big bright Yellow eyes; his hair also matched his bright color eyes with a bright blonde hair and heavily greased and combed to the side. He had a nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, despite Smiling most of the time and acting happy and that beating he got from the Socs didn't help matters. He was the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother. His father was always beating him up, and his mother ignored him,except when she was hacked off at something, and then you could hear her yelling at him clear down at our house. I think he hated that worse than getting whipped. He would have run away a million times if wehadn't been there. If it hadn't been for the gang, Kenji would never have known what love and affectionare.
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Didya catch 'em?" "Nup. They got away this time, the dirty..." Ranpo went on cheerfully, calling the Socs every name hecould think of or make up."The kid's okay?"
"I'm okay." I tried to think of something to say. I'm usually pretty Talkative around people, even the gang. I changed the subject. "I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, ChuChu."
"Good behavior. Got off early." ChuChu lit a cigarette and handed it to Kenji. Everyone sat down to have a smoke and relax. A smoke always lessens the tension. I had quit trembling and my color was back. The cigarette was calming me down. Ranpo cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid." I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?" Ranpo nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough." Tough and tuff are two different words. Tough is the same as rough; tuff means cool, sharp--- like a tuff-looking Mustang or a tuff record. In our neighborhood both are compliments. Sakunosuke flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Leave it to good old Sakunosuke to bring up something like that. "I was comin' home from the movies. I didn't think..." "You don't ever think most of the time," Doppy broke in, "not at home or anywhere when it actually counts. You must think at school,with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No you don't, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."I just stared at the hole in the toe of my tennis shoe. Me and Doppy just didn't dig each other. I never could please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I had carried one. If I brought home B's,he wanted A's, and if I got A's, he wanted to make sure they stayed A's. If I was playing football, I should be in studying, and if I was reading, I should be out playing football. He was so indecisive Despite having that Ideal book to guide him to his next decisions.
He never hollered at Osamu--- not even when Osamu dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding. He just hollered at me. Osamu was glaring at him. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons." Osamu always takes up for me.
Doppy said impatiently, "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you-- kid brother." But he laid off me. He always does when Osamu tells him to. Most of the time."Next time get one of us to go with you, Atsushi," Ranpo said. "Any of us will." "Speakin' of movies"--- ChuChu yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt--- "I'm walkin' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?" Sakunosuke shook his head. "Me and Osamu are pickin' up Ango and belladonna for the game."He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then.
I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I'd never tell Osamu, because he really likes Sakunosuke a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Sakunosuke Oda. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him. Doppy sighed, just like I knew he would. Doppy never had time to do anything anymore. "I'm working tomorrow night." ChuChu looked at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Ranpo? Kenji, you and Atsushi wanta come?" "Me and Johnny'll come," I said. I knew Kenji wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced to. "Okay, Doppy?" "Yeah, since it ain't a school night." Doppy real good about letting me go places on the weekends. On school nights I could hardly leave the house."I was plannin' on getting boozed up tomorrow night," Ranpo said. "If I don't, I'll walk over and find y'all." Sakunosuke was looking at ChuChu’s hand. His ring, which he had rolled a drunk senior to get, was back on his finger. "You break up with Albatross again?" "Yeah, and this time it's for good. That little broad was two-timin' me again while I was in jail."I thought of albatross and Ango and Belladonna. They were the only kind of girls that would look at us, I thought. Tough, loud girls who wore too much eye makeup and giggled and swore toomuch. I liked Osamu's girl Belladonna just fine, though. She didn't have a real good home or anything and was our kind--- greaser--- but she was a real nice girl. Still, lots of times I wondered what other girls were like. The girls who were bright-eyed and had their dresses a decent length and acted as if they'd like to spit on us if given a chance. Some were afraid of us, and remembering Chuuya Nakahara, I didn't blame them. But most looked at us like we were dirt--- gave us the same kind of look that the Socs did when they came by in their Mustangs and Corvairs and yelled "Grease!" at us. I wondered about them. The girls, I mean... Did they cry when theirboys were arrested, like Ango did when Sakunosuke got hauled in, or did they run out on them the way albatross did Chuuya? But maybe their boys didn't get arrested or beaten up or busted up in rodeos.
I was still thinking about it while I was doing my homework that night. I had to read Great Expectations for English, and that kid Pip, he reminded me of us--- the way he felt marked lousy because he wasn't agentleman or anything, and the way that girl kept looking down on him. That happened to me once. One time in biology I had to dissect a worm, and the razor wouldn't cut, so I used my switchblade. The minute I flicked it out--- I forgot what I was doing or I would never have done it--- this girl right beside me kind of gasped, and said, "They are right. You are a hood." That didn't make me feel so hot. These were a lot of Socs in that class--- I get put into A classes because I'm supposed to be smart--- and most of them thought it was pretty funny. I didn't, though. She was a cute girl. She looked real good in yellow. We deserve a lot of our trouble, I thought. Chuuya deserves everything he gets, and should get worse, if you want the truth. And Ranpo--- he doesn't really want or need half the things he swipes from stores. He just thinks it's fun to swipe everything that isn't nailed down. I can understand why Osamu and Sakunosuke get into drag races and fights so much, though--- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with noway to blow it off.
"Rub harder, Osamu," I heard Doppy mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep."I looked through the door. Osamu was giving Doppy a back-rub. Doppy is always pulling muscles; he roofs houses and he's always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder. I knew Osamu would put him tosleep, because Osamu can put about anyone out when he sets his head to it. He thought Doppy worked too hard anyway. I did, too. Doppy didn't deserve to work like an old man when he was only twenty. He had been a real popular guy in school; he was captain of the debate team and he had been voted Boy of the Year. But we just didn't have the money for him to go to college, even with the Academic scholarship he won. And now he didn't have time between jobs to even think about college. So he never went anywhere and never did anything anymore, except work. I rubbed my cheek where it had turned purple. I had looked in the mirror, and it did make me look tough.But Doppy had made me put a Band-Aid on the cut.I remembered how awful Kenjo had looked when he got beaten up. I had just as much right to use thestreets as the Socs did, and Kenjo had never hurt them. Why did the Socs hate us so much? We left them alone. I nearly went to sleep over my homework trying to figure it out.
Osamu, who had jumped into bed by this time, yelled sleepily for me to turn off the light and get to bed.When I finished the chapter I was on, I did.Lying beside Osamu, staring at the wall, I kept remembering the faces of the Socs as they surrounded me,that blue madras shirt the blond was wearing, and I could still hear a thick voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?"I shivered."You cold, Atsushi?" "A little;" I lied. Osamu threw one arm across my neck. He mumbled something drowsily. "Listen, kiddo,when Doppy hollers at you... he don't mean nothin'. He's just got more worries than somebody his age oughtto. Don't take him serious... you dig, sushi? Don't let him bug you. He's really proud of you 'cause you're sobrainy. It's just because you're the baby--- I mean, he loves you a lot. Savvy?"
"Sure," I said, trying for Soda's sake to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
"Soda?"
"Yeah?"
"How come you dropped out?" I never have gotten over that. I could hardly stand it when he left school." 'Cause I'm dumb. The only things I was passing anyway were auto mechanics and gym."
"You're not dumb."
"Yeah, I am. Shut up and I'll tell you something. Don't tell Doppy, though."
"Okay."
"I think I'm gonna marry Belladonna. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything. I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Doppy with the bills and stuff."
"Tuff enough. Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Doppy off my back."
"Don't be like that, kid. I told you he don't mean half of what he says..."
"You in love with Belladonna? What's it like?"
"Hhhmmm." He sighed happily. "It's real nice."In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. Then I sighed. I didn't quite get what he meant about Doppy. Doppy thought I was just another mouth to feed andsomebody to holler at. Doppy cared for me? I thought of those serious, pale eyes. Osamu was wrong for once, Ithought. Doppy doesn't love anyone or anything, except maybe Osamu. I didn't hardly think of him as being human. I don't care, I lied to myself, I don't care about him either. Osamu’s enough, and I'd have him until I got out of school. I don't care about Doppy. But I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time.But I never believe me.