The outsiders chapter 1 WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie
house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I
looked like Paul Newman--- he looks tough and I don't--- but I guess my own looks aren't
so bad. I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were
more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with
what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long
at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to
get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair.
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 different that way. I mean, my secondoldest brother, Soda, who is sixteen-going-on-seventeen, never cracks a book at all, and
my oldest brother, Darrel, who we call Darry, works too long and hard to be interested in
a story or drawing a picture, so I'm not like them. And nobody in our gang digs movies
and books the way I do.