I see a six-inch switchblade in Paul’s hand, just like the one Johnny had. He stalks toward Soda. Another Soc with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes gets out of the car and runs up to Paul. “Well, Nico, look who it is,” Paul remarks. The black-haired boy, apparently Nico, laughs. “For the second time, what do you want?” Soda yells at them. “Many things, shall I list them?” says Paul, his voice filled with pure hate. “What do you want from us?” “Ah, that's more specific,” Paul sneers. “Well, for one thing, your brother betrayed me.” “Darry did nothing to you.” Now Sodapop is about ready to start fighting him. The anger in his voice is sharp as knives. Paul takes another step towards Soda and Nico closes the distance between us. I flip open my switchblade, ready for an attack but for a moment, I see fear and regret flash across Nico’s sharp features. Maybe it’s like Randy said, not all Socs are bad. He looks at me as if I could kill him any second but anyone who knows me would know that I could only hurt someone if it was self-defense. Paul, on the other hand, not so much. “I wouldn’t call practically becoming a greaser just because his parents died nothing.” “What does being a greaser or a Soc have anything to do with this?” I ask, unable to keep quiet any longer. “I’m sure that you would do the same thing if your parents died and you had to take care of two kid brothers when you were just nineteen.” “You stay out of this, Pony, it’s none of your business,” Paul tells me. “It kind of is since you’re talking about my brother,” I retort. “That’s it!” Paul yells. Seconds later, he held a switchblade with a glistening metal handle. I take a step back and raise my switch. Nico follows me, takes his blade, and attempts to slash it across my arm but I move away just in time. Soda’s not so lucky. Paul has him cornered with his blade pressed to him. I try to run over to help him but Nico tackles me. “Get off of me!” I try to punch him off of me but he has a vice-like grip on me when I hear Soda cry out in pain– Paul must have cut him. I glance towards the gas station, hoping to see someone who could call the fuzz. Nothing. That was the strangest part, why was there no one at the gas station? Then I saw it. Practically everyone in town was standing in the street, watching red-hot flames consume the hill just past the empty lot. I could hear people faintly screaming and running as far away as they could. Sirens wailed as fire trucks drove by the crowd to get to the hill. Now I noticed embers and ashes falling to the ground like rain. No wonder nobody was paying attention to the four kids fighting in the road, the fire was getting closer and closer by the second. We all must have been too caught up in trying to get away from Paul and Nico to hear, or see, everybody yelling and running away. “Ponyboy!” Soda yells, “Run!” “I can’t,” I reply. “Nico pinned me.” “Hey,” Nico whispers, “I don’t want to do this, and I’m guessing you don’t either so I’ll let you go. On one condition, you have to make it look like you fought your way out so Paul doesn’t kill me. Deal?” “Deal,” I say, still shocked that he’ll let me go. I pretend to wrestle out of Nico’s grip and free myself, only to see Soda fighting Paul and barely winning. Paul has him pressed against the sidewalk. “Stop!” I scream, trying to distract Paul so Soda can get up. “Pony! I told you to run.” Soda says “I’m not going anywhere without you.” I pick up a rock I find lying on the ground and throw it towards Paul, again trying to distract him. Suddenly, an ember flies onto the roof of the gas station, and within seconds, the whole roof is on fire. We all pause from fighting to stare in awe at the burning building. Then it hits us: if the pumps catch fire, they’ll explode.
