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About The Outsiders
Product Description The 45th anniversary of a landmark work of teen fiction Ponyboy can count on his brothers and his friends, but not on much else besides trouble with the Socs, a vicious gang of rich kids who get away with everything, including beating up greasers like Ponyboy. At least he knows what to expect--until the night someone takes things too far. Written forty-five years ago, S. E. Hinton's classic story of a boy who finds himself on the outskirts of regular society remains as powerful today as it was the day it was written. Review Praise for The Outsiders " The Outsiders transformed young-adult fiction from a genre mostly about prom queens, football players and high school crushes to one that portrayed a darker, truer world." — The New York Times "Taut with tension, filled with drama." — The Chicago Tribune "[A] classic coming-of-age book." — Philadelphia Daily News "What it's like to live lonely and unwanted and cornered by circumstance...There is rawness and violence here, but honest hope, too." — National Observer "This remarkable novel gives a moving, credible view of the outsiders from the inside...we meet powerful characters in a book with a powerful message." — The Horn Book A New York Herald Tribune Best Teenage Book A Chicago Tribune Book World Spring Book Festival Honor Book An ALA Best Book for Young Adults Winner of the Massachusetts Children's Book Award About the Author S. E. Hinton is the author of a number of bestselling and beloved books for young adults, including THAT WAS THEN, THIS IS NOW; RUMBLE FISH, TEX, and of course, THE OUTSIDERS, which was written when she was just 16 years old. She has also written several picture books, a collection of short stories, and a novel for adults. She lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma—the setting of THE OUTSIDERS—with her husband. When she is not writing, she enjoys riding horses. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 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 second-oldest 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. For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. So I loned it. Soda tries to understand, at least, which is more than Darry does. But then, Soda is different from anybody; he understands everything, almost. Like he’s never hollering at me all the time the way Darry is, or treating me as if I was six instead of fourteen. I love Soda more than I’ve ever loved anyone, even Mom and Dad. He’s always happy-go-lucky and grinning, while Darry’s hard and firm and rarely grins at all. But then, Darry’s gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast. Sodapop’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
