The Outsiders. S. E. Hinton. According to Wikipedia, The Outsiders is a coming-of -age novel by S. E. Hinton, first published in by Viking Press. Hinton was. According to Wikipedia, The Outsiders is a coming-of-age novel by S. E. Hinton, first published in by Viking Press. Hinton was 15 when she started writing. Download PDF The Outsiders S. E. HintonAccording to Wikipedia, The Outsiders is a coming-of-age . The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton 2.
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A Study Guide for Grades 6 and up. Prepared by Charlotte S. Jaffe and Barbara T . Doherty. Illustrated by Karen Sigler. The Outsiders. By S. E. Hinton. Literature. Download The Outsiders PDF written by S.E. Hinton from Reading Sanctuary in PDF format. the outsiders by se ruthenpress.info the outsiders by se ruthenpress.info, KB; (Last Modified on November 6, ). Address. 70 Leland Lane, Southampton, NY.
I tried writing about Soda's horse, Mickey Mouse, but I couldn't get it right; it always came out sounding corny. So I started writing names across the paper. Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr. Soda Patrick Curtis.
Ponyboy Michael Curtis. Then I drew horses all over it. That was going to get a good grade like all git-out. Hinton 5 "Hey, did the mail come in yet? I was in the bedroom, but I knew he would throw his jacket toward the sofa and miss it, take off his shoes, and go into the kitchen for a glass of chocolate milk, because that's what he does every day of his life.
He always runs around in his stocking feet he doesn't like shoes. Then he did a funny thing. He came in and flopped down on the bed and started smoking a cigarette. He hardly ever smokes, except when something is really bugging him or when he wants to look tough. And he doesn't have to impress us; we know he's tough. So I figured something was bothering him.
I shrugged and went back to drawing horses. Soda cooked dinner that night, and everything came out right. That was unusual, because he's always trying something different.
One time we had green pancakes. I can tell you one thing: if you've got a brother like Sodapop, you're never bored. All through supper Soda was quiet, and he didn't eat much. That was really unusual.
Most of the time you can't shut him up or fill him up. Darry didn't seem to notice, so I didn't say anything. Then after supper me and Darry got into a fuss, about the fourth one we'd had that week. This one started because I hadn't done anything on that theme, and I wanted to go for a ride. It used to be that I'd just stand there and let Darry yell at me, but lately I'd been yelling right back.
Look at Soda. He's doing okay, and he dropped out. You can just lay off! Hinton 6 "You're not going to drop out. Listen, with your brains and grades you could get a scholarship, and we could put you through college.
But schoolwork's not the point. You're living in a vacuum, Pony, and you're going to have to cut it out. Johnny and Dallas were our buddies, too, but you don't just stop living because you lose someone. I thought you knew that by now.
You don't quit! And anytime you don't like the way I'm running things you can get out. We never talked about Dallas or Johnny. You'd like me just to get out. Well, it's not that easy, is it, Soda? His face was white, and when he looked at me his eyes were wide with a pained expression. I suddenly remembered Curly Shepard's face when he slipped off a telephone pole and broke his arm. Oh, you guys, why can't you Darry and I were struck dumb.
Darry picked up the envelope that Soda had dropped. And I hadn't even bothered to find out. And while I was thinking about it, I realized that I never had paid much attention to Soda's problems. Darry and I just took it for granted that he didn't have any. He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn't love him like he thought she did, because it wasn't him. I didn't think he'd tell Steve or Two-Bit, but I thought he told you everything.
Hinton 7 "Maybe he tried," I said. How many times had Soda started to tell me something, only to find I was daydreaming or stuck in a book?
He would always listen to me, no matter what he was doing. We were gaining on him, but he had a block's head start.
Even out of condition I was the best runner. He veered off to the right, but I caught him in a flying tackle before he'd gone more than a couple of steps. It knocked the wind out of both of us. We lay there gasping for a minute or two, and then Soda sat up and brushed the grass off his shirt. Darry came up and dropped down beside us. Soda shrugged. It's just I can't stand to hear y'all fight. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. Ifyou don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more.
It'sa pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or thestreet gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber. When Steve'scousin from Kansas came down, Dally was decent to her and watched his swearing. Weall did around nice girls who were the cousinly type. I don't know how to explain it wetry to be nice to the girls we see once in awhile, like cousins or the girls in class; but westill watch a nice girl go by on a street corner and say all kinds of lousy stuff about her.
Don't ask me why. I don't know why. They'd come with theirboyfriends, but walked out on them when they found out the boys had brought somebooze along. The boys had gotten angry and left. They'd decided to stay and see the movie anyway. Itwas one of those beach-party movies with no plot and no acting but a lot of girls inbikinis and some swinging songs, so it was all right. I looked fearfully over my shoulder and there was Two-Bit, grinning like aChessy cat.
Then I looked at Johnny. His eyes were shutand he was as white as a ghost. His breath was coming in smothered gasps.
Two-Bitknew better than to scare Johnny like that. I guess he'd forgotten. He's kind ofscatterbrained. I couldn't tell if Two-Bit was drunk or not. It's kind of hard to tell with him heacts boozed up sometimes even when he's sober. Two-Bit stared at her admiringly. Where'd you twoever get to be picked up by a couple of greasy hoods like Pony and Johnny? They're worth ten camels apiece at least. Say somethin'in Arabian, Johnnycake.
Against wisecracking greasers like you,probably. We thoughtwe were doing good if we could get him to talk at all. Incidentally, we don't mind beingcalled greaser by another greaser. It's kind of playful then. I hope he don't getjailed again. Timothy Shepard and Co. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it Does Dally have ablade? Tim'll fight fair if Dally don't pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn't haveany trouble. So are chains andheaters and pool sticks and rumbles.
Skin fighting isn't rough. It blows off steam betterthan anything. There's nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. Theygang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs. Us greasersusually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it's a fair fight betweentwo.
And Dally deserves whatever he gets, 'cause slashed tires ain't no joke when you'vegot to work to pay for them. He got spotted, too, and that was his fault. Our one rule,besides Stick together, is Don't get caught. He might get beat up, he might not.
Eitherway there's not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard's, If weneeded them tomorrow they'd show. If Tim beats Dally's head in, and then tomorrow asksus for help in a rumble, we'll show. Dally was getting kicks. He got caught. He pays up. No sweat. He sure put things into words good.
Maybe hewas still a junior at eighteen and a half, and maybe his sideburns were too long, andmaybe he did get boozed up too much, but he sure understood things. Johnny's color was back and his breathing was regular, but his handwas shaking ever so slightly. A cigarette would steady it. I jumped up. Y'all want some? She was finishing the Coke Dally had given her.
I realizedthen that Marcia and Cherry weren't alike. Cherry had said she wouldn't drink Dally'sCoke if she was starving, and she meant it. It was the principle of the thing. But Marciasaw no reason to throw away a perfectly good, free Coke.
He flipped me a fifty cent piece. We went to the concession stand and, as usual, there was a line a mile long, so wehad to wait. Quite a few kids turned to look at us you didn't see a kid grease and a Socycheerleader together often. Cherry didn't seem to notice. He's okay. And I don't like to talk about it either Johnny getting beat up, I mean. But Istarted in, talking a little faster than I usually do because I don't like to think about iteither.
I had walked down to the DX station to geta bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always download me a couple ofbottles and let me help work on the cars. I don't like to go on weekends because thenthere is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda all kinds of girls, Socstoo.
I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. It was a warmish spring day with the sun shining bright, but it was getting chillyand dark by the time we started for home.
We were walking because we had left Steve'scar at the station. At the corner of our block there's a wide, open field where we playfootball and hang out, and it's often a site for rumbles and fist fights.
We were passing it,kicking rocks down the street and finishing our last bottle of Pepsi, when Steve noticedsomething lying on the ground. He picked it up. It was Johnny's blue-jeans jacket theonly jacket he had. Suddenly he stopped and examined it more carefully.
Therewas a stain the color of rust across the collar. He looked at the ground. There were somemore stains on the grass. He looked up and across the field with a stricken expression onhis face. I think we all heard the low moan and saw the dark motionless hump on theother side of the lot at the same time. Soda reached him first. Johnny was lying face downon the ground. Soda turned him over gently, and I nearly got sick.
Someone had beatenhim badly. We were used to seeing Johnny banged up his father clobbered him around alot, and although it made us madder than heck, we couldn't do anything about it.
Butthose beatings had been nothing like this. Johnny's face was cut up and bruised andswollen, and there was a wide gash from his temple to his cheekbone.
He would carrythat scar all his life. His white T-shirt was splattered with blood. I just stood there,trembling with sudden cold. I thought he might be dead; surely nobody could be beatenlike that and live. Steve closed his eyes for a second and muffled a groan as he droppedon his knees beside Soda.
Two-Bit was suddenly therebeside me, and for once his comical grin was gone and his dancing gray eyes werestormy. Darry had seen us from our porch and ran toward us, suddenly skidding to a halt. Dally was there, too, swearing under his breath, and turning away with a sick expressionon his face. I wondered about it vaguely.
Dally had seen people killed on the streets ofNew York's West Side. Why did he look sick now? He gave the limpbody a slight shake. You're gonna be okay. I got so scared I had seen Johnny take a whipping with a two-by-four from his old man andnever let out a whimper.
That made it worse to see him break now. Soda just held himand pushed Johnny's hair back out of his eyes. It's okay. He had beenhunting our football to practice a few kicks when a blue Mustang had pulled up besidethe lot. There were four Socs in it. They had caught him and one of them had a lot ofrings on his hand that's what had cut Johnny up so badly.
It wasn't just that they hadbeaten him half to death he could take that. They had scared him. They had threatenedhim with everything under the sun. Johnny was high-strung anyway, a nervous wreckfrom getting belted every time he turned around and from hearing his parents fight all thetime. Living in those conditions might have turned someone else rebellious and bitter; itwas killing Johnny. He had never been a coward. He was a good man in a rumble.
Hestuck up for the gang and kept his mouth shut good around cops. But after the night of thebeating, Johnny was jumpier than ever. I didn't think he'd ever get over it. And Johnny, who was the most law-abiding of us, nowcarried in his back pocket a six-inch switchblade. He'd use it, too, if he ever got jumpedagain. They had scared him that much.
He would kill the next person who jumped him. Nobody was ever going to beat him like that again. Not over his dead body But when I cameback to reality and looked at her, I was startled to find her as white as a sheet. Not all ofus are like that. I'll bet he's jumped afew people. It was true. Dally had jumped people. He had told us stories aboutmuggings in New York that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
But not all ofus were that bad. Cherry no longer looked sick, only sad. The rich kids, the West-side Socs. I'll tell you something, Ponyboy, and it may come as asurprise. We have troubles you've never even heard of. You want to know something? Marcia and Two-Bit werehitting it off fine. Both had the same scatterbrained sense of humor.
But Cherry andJohnny and I just sat there, looking at the movie and not talking. I quit worrying abouteverything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen toher swear or to beat her off with a club.
I knew Johnny liked it, too. He didn't talk to girlsmuch. Then he gave Johnny a lecture ongirls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As aresult, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared ofSteve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell.
I got the same lecture from Two-Bit after we'd picked up a couple of girlsdowntown one day. I thought it was funny, because girls are one subject even Darrythinks I use my head about. And it really had been funny, because Two-Bit was halfcrocked when he gave me the lecture, and he told me some stories that about made mewant to crawl under the floor or something.
But he had been talking about girls likeSylvia and the girls he and Dally and the rest picked up at drive-ins and downtown; henever said anything about Socy girls.
So I figured it was all right to be sitting there withthem. Even if they did have their own troubles. I really couldn't see what Socs wouldhave to sweat about good grades, good cars, good girls, madras and Mustangs andCorvairs Man, I thought, if I had worries like that I'd consider myself lucky.
I know better now. Two-Bit gallantly offered to walk them home the westside of town was only about twenty miles away but they wanted to call their parentsand have them come and get them. Two-Bit finally talked them into letting us drive themhome in his car. I think they were still half-scared of us. They were getting over it,though, as we walked to Two-Bit's house to pick up the car.
It seemed funny to me thatSocs if these girls were any example were just like us. They liked the Beatles andthought Elvis Presley was out, and we thought the Beatles were rank and that Elvis wastuff, but that seemed the only difference to me. Of course greasy girls would have acted alot tougher, but there was a basic sameness.
I thought maybe it was money that separatedus. Part of it is, butnot all. You greasers have a different set of values. You're more emotional. We'resophisticated cool to the point of not feeling anything. Nothing is real with us. Youknow, sometimes I'll catch myself talking to a girl-friend, and realize I don't mean half ofwhat I'm saying.
I don't really think a beer blast on the river bottom is super-cool, but I'llrave about one to a girl-friend just to be saying something. I think you're the first person I've ever really gotten through to. Did you ever hear of having more than you wanted? Sothat you couldn't want anything else and then started looking for something else to want? It seems like we're always searching for something to satisfy us, and never finding it.
Maybe if we could lose our cool. Socs were always behind a wall of aloofness, careful not to lettheir real selves show through. I had seen a social-club rumble once. The Socs evenfought coldly and practically and impersonally. They were engaged in somewild conversation that made no sense to anyone but themselves. I have quite a rep for being quiet, almost as quiet as Johnny. Two-Bit always saidhe wondered why Johnny and I were such good buddies. Nobody but Soda could really get me talking.
Till I met Cherry Valance. I don't know why I could talk to her; maybe for the same reason she could talk tome. I hadnever told anyone about Soda's horse. It was personal. Soda had this buckskin horse, only it wasn't his. It belonged to a guy who kept itat the stables where Soda used to work.
Mickey Mouse was Soda's horse, though. I was about tenthen. Sodapop is horsecrazy. He's always hanging around stables and rodeos,hopping on a horse every time he gets a chance. Mickey Mouse was a dark-gold buckskin,sassy and ornery, not much more than a colt. He'd come when Soda called him. Hewouldn't come for anyone else. That horse loved Soda. He'd stand there and chew onSoda's sleeve or collar. Gosh, but Sodapop was crazy about that horse. He went down tosee him every day.
But not hard. He may have belonged to another guy,but he was Soda's horse. He was areal valuable horse. Pure quarter. I couldn't tell her that Soda hadbawled all night long after they came and got Mickey Mouse.
I had cried, too, if you wantto know the truth, because Soda never really wanted anything except a horse, and he'dlost his. Soda had been twelve then, going-on-thirteen. He never let on to Mom and Dadhow he felt, though, because we never had enough money and usually we had a hard timemaking ends meet.
When you're thirteen in our neighborhood you know the score. I keptsaving my money for a year, thinking that someday I could download Mickey Mouse back forSoda. You're not so smart at ten. I was startled. I'll bet you watch sunsets, too. Maybe Cherry stood still and watched the sun set whileshe was supposed to be taking the garbage out.
Stood there and watched and forgoteverything else until her big brother screamed at her to hurry up. I shook my head. Itseemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and, the one I saw from theback steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't sodifferent. We saw the same sunset. Marcia suddenly gasped. Johnny made asmall noise in his throat and when I looked at him he was white.
Marcia was shifting nervously. I wondered why Johnny was a nervous wreck, buthe never was that jumpy. Cherry started walking down the street. Act normal. Marcia sighed in relief.
You don't talk muchabout him. He's big and handsome and likes to play football. I feel like I know Soda from the way you talk about him;tell me about Darry. Dreamy, like you?
He's hard as a rock and about ashuman. He's got eyes exactly like frozen ice. He thinks I'm a pain in the neck. He likesSoda everybody likes Soda but he can't stand me. I bet he wishes he could stick mein a home somewhere, and he'd do it, too, if Soda'd let him. I knew my ears were red by the waythey were burning, and I was thankful for the darkness. I felt stupid. Compared toJohnny's home, mine was heaven. At least Darry didn't get drunk and beat me up or runme out of the house, and I had Sodapop to talk things over with.
That made me mad, Imean making a fool of myself in front of everyone. And you can't blame them. Hinton had lived her entire life. The time period is never stated explicitly, but the book was first published in , and the dialogue of the characters is loaded with s slang: "heater" for gun; "cooler" for jail; "fuzz" for police; "broad" for young woman; "weed" for cigarette; and "You dig? One prevalent theme in The Outsiders is class difference, and this is introduced to readers right from chapter 1.
Ponyboy, the first-person teen narrator, tells readers, "Organized gangs are rarities. Ponyboy is intelligent, so even at 14 he realizes the odds are stacked against him, his brothers, and his neighborhood gang whose members are "almost as close as brothers.
Regarding the Socs, Ponyboy says, "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. Ponyboy and his brothers stick together after the death of their parents. Even though Ponyboy and Darry don't get along very well on a daily basis, Darry is always there for Ponyboy whenever he needs help, like when he is ambushed by five Socs in chapter 1.
Both Darry and Soda have full-time jobs to support Ponyboy until he can finish high school, even though Soda is only 16 himself. Steve doesn't really like Ponyboy all that much, but even he comes to his aid when needed. Ponyboy thinks of the greaser gang members as additional family members, like close cousins.