The Outsiders Sodapop Novels & Stories

Mia winked at me subtly and placed a hand on her heart. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa," Mia let out an ear-piercing scream. Instantly, all attention was directed to her. She started gasping for air, clutching her heart. "She is having a heart attack!" Caleb started yelling, "help! Someone help!" "Oh my God, Mia!" Sophia immediately crouched down, "I told you not to have too much soda!" This girl... "Are you kidding me right now?" Will exclaimed, "soda?!" Sophia shot him a glare, "Yes! Soda! Ever heard of it, asshat?"

Sophia, a nineteen years old girl who was on a bike ride and overjoyed that she's gonna be twenty the next day and ride across the city had a contact with Ice Pick, a druglord and a Mafia leader whose identity, his name was unknown to the world but most feared human in the whole of America. Sophia was having fun when a car spatted some dirty mud water in the pothole in the market and being one to act rascally, she immediately pick up a stone and threw it to the glass of the car as the car reversed as her first conversation with the car owner and the driver and she insulted the duo and then ride her bike away in victory.

A vending machine with water, soda, punch, and a chill zone where students retreat to catch their breath and have conversations that aren’t drowned out by the music. “… my little soda pop, yeah!... Let’s get the party started!!!” Tamara yells happily, bumping into me playfully. “… you all I can think of… every drop I drink up… you’re my soda pop… my little soda pop…” “… cool me down you’re so hot… pour me up I won’t stop… you’re my soda pop… my little soda pop…” “Cat…” Nabi screams, suppressed by the music, “How do I look? Guess what? I was stopped in the hallway to the party, a senior asked if I was the gloriously shiny Cinderella.”

“Or he’ll trip over his own shine.” Sophia burst out laughing. She tossed more popcorn at me and missed. “You’ll eat those words,” she said. A soccer ball rolled near our feet. A little boy came running after it, a gap-toothed smile across his face. “Sorry!” he called out. I nudged the ball back with my foot. “No problem,” I said. He grinned and ran off. Popcorn Pete came around the front of his cart again, hands in his jacket pockets. “You girls are enjoying the view?” he asked.

Perfect! I am not a huge fan of Linkin Park like Roxy but I know some of their songs. Numb, by the band starts playing and we both start singing along. This is fun. We drive around the city for a couple of hours and at 1900hours we stop to order pizza and some drinks. He orders my favourite drink. Mountain Dew. I have no idea how he knew. He gets a coke for himself and once we get our pizza, we drive off. "Where are we going now?" I ask.

I didn't use to leave the house much, so I didn't know many people. "I'm old, but not so old, girl," he said gently, in a voice with a southern accent. "I just didn't find Pepsi. In my humble opinion, it's a better soda than Coca-Cola, and yet you don't have it for sale.” "If you want, you can write down on that list of suggestions that you are always asking customers," said his friend, watching the conversation. "I go to this place every day, and I've never really found a Pepsi.”

But even as he took the tissues, he added, “The soup too. You can probably conceal the soda in your front hoodie pouch, if it’s the only thing in there.” He had a point. Nodding, I removed the can from my hoodie’s pocket. “Okay. Thank you.” The thank you actually made him rear his face back in shock. This time, he refused to take the can from me, just eyed it as if I was offering him poison instead. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed. “What do you mean?” Lowering my voice, I gaped at him. “Nothing’s wrong with me.” I thrust the chicken noodle soup at him again. Why didn’t he just take the damn can before his mother showed up in the closet too, wondering why the hell we were taking

Candy wrappers, tinfoil, cellophane from cigarette packs. Sonny Boy had pure shit—on a Friday afternoon. Sonny Boy lifted the baggy, fat with white powder. “Sweetie Boy,” Sonny Boy said. “We could have a snowball fight with this shit.” Three ounces of it, Dink thought. “We could go sledding, Sonny Boy.” Pure. Not a bit of shit. No speed. No baby powder. Nothing to give you the shits. Dink was sure he had come across such a phenomena one afternoon when he was doing eighty a week for a software company in Silicon Valley and everyone was snorting up in the stalls of the men’s room.

Someone's laughing too loud by the entrance. Marcus is waiting for me. The inside of The Den smells like cheap beer and fried food. I spot Marcus immediately—he's at a booth in the back, waving at me like I'm the best thing that's happened to him all day. "Sophie! Over here!" He's already got a pitcher of something on the table. His smile is wide and easy and completely uncomplicated. No dark secrets. No fathers who threaten girls in elevators. Just a nice boy in a Vipers hoodie who remembers I exist.

Now everyone was at lunch or hiding from the nasty light rain in warm cases, and Travis was sitting on a metal bar, on which the paint was peeling in places, and did not seem to notice that cold drops were dripping down the collar of his stylish black sweater. Letting out a sigh of relief—at least he wasn't having a seizure—Sammy walked over to him. But, already approaching, she realized that something was clearly wrong with the guy. Travis stared ahead of him, not noticing anyone, and drank soda from a can. Once there, Sammy realized with amazement that it was not a soda, but a gin and tonic. - Travis! What are you drinking? she blurted out. In addition to the will, it turned out angrily.