April 1, 1965

When I got into the car, it was already very low on gas. I drove to the gas station I normally go to with my own car in 2017. It's an old gas station in town called Grease Monkey Gas Station. I drove to it and didn't see the familiar sign of the green logo. Instead, I saw two big blue letters that read DX on it.

Wasn't the DX the gas station that Sodapop Curtis and Steve Randle work at? I have not recalled seeing a DX gas station before, so I always figured it was a fake business just for the book. I brushed the thought off and I pulled into the station and sat in the silence of the musty-smelling car before finally getting out.

I stood in front of the vintage gas pump, and I was quick to realize that I've never had to use one before. Clearly. I tried to use my prior knowledge of pumps, and found that there was no place for me to put my debit card. It was just a white box with black flip-down numbers that told you the price, and the gallons.

I couldn't find anywhere on the white box to pay, so I just grabbed the pump and stuck it in the cars gas tank and tried to pull the lever.

Nothing came out, obviously.

"The hell?" I circled around the pump, even trying to find a coin slot. I looked around and finally saw a sign that said that you have to pay inside.

Great. This has definitely not been my day.

My money was in the bag I put my old clothes in, so I leaned into the car and grabbed about $10 before I went inside. Gas can't be too expensive here. I heard clanging and scraping noises coming from the garage behind the store. I wasn't sure how much gas was, so I assumed I would get at the very least half a tank. I felt too optimistic that it would cover the entire thing.

A bell chimed when I opened the door. A light-hearted song was playing in the background and the convenience store was empty of people. I waltzed to the back and grabbed a cold glass bottle of Coca-Cola from the fridge. I glanced around a bit, slowly strolling through the small isles of chips and candy. I inspected the prices, completely baffled by the differences. Tootsie Rolls and Bit-O-Honey's were only a penny, and hot dogs on the counter were selling for just 80¢.

I headed up to the register and placed my soda on the counter. The sound of the air conditioner blowing in the back corner of the store nearly overpowered the lighthearted song that played through speakers throughout the store.

I wanna be Bobby's girl,
I wanna be Bobby's girl,
That's the most important thing to me,
And if I was Bobby's girl,
If I was Bobby's girl,
What a faithful, thankful girl I'd be.

Each night I sit at home,
Hoping that he will phone,
But I know Bobby has someone else,
Still in my heart I pray,
There soon will come a day,
When I will have him all to myself.

I drummed my fingers gently on the counter while I waited for someone who was working, humming gently to the tune of the song to keep myself occupied. At least I know some of the music of the 60s. I noticed that the sun was already starting to go down, filling the store with a warm golden glow.

Finally, a guy came up from the garage and wiped his hands on a oil ridden towel and started to press random buttons on the register. He had light honey hair and brown eyes that were warm and friendly. The sunlight even made them sparkle. He had a white name tag that read Sodapop.

Oh.

My.

God.

"That'll be 14¢." He looked at me, and paused as if he was soaking me in. His smile emerged, big and warm. It flooded over his features and overflowed to his big brown eyes. It engulfed me like a warm wave. It was as if his smile was genuine and only for me.

"I would also like to get some gas." I instinctually smiled back while my heart stopped. The book was right, he was movie star handsome. He had a beautiful smile and handsome features. I had to painfully remind myself that he was probably just putting on a customer service act for me, but I could not help it. I tried not to swoon, but he made it difficult.

"Steve ain't out there?" He asked.

"No, no one was out there."

"Sorry about that, darlin'. Guess he wasn't payin' much attention to the pumps. He's 'bout elbow deep in an engine back there," Soda chuckled. "How much?"

"Um...." I was thinking how many gallons I needed. "10?" I have never been too knowledgeable about cars.

"Glory." He laughed and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. His light blue work shirt was opened to a white undershirt, his chest covered in sweat and motor oil. Dark grease was caked around his fingernails, and there was some smeared on his arms and his cheek. "Three dollars."

"Really?" I asked, never hearing such a low number in my life when it comes to gasoline.

"Really." He raised his eyebrows, like he wasn't used to getting questioned.

I exhaled and handed him a $5. My breath hitched in my throat when I realized this bill was neglected to be exchanged out at the store. I hoped that he wouldn't notice the year on the bill: 2013.

"Steve!" Soda called out. My jaw clenched when I heard Steve's name.

"Yeah?" A voice from the garage shouted back.

"Three dollars on the pump!" Soda told him.

"On it!"

I glanced out the window and saw someone jog out of the garage and he stopped at my car. His light blue shirt either had its sleeves cut or ripped off, but I didn't get a chance to see his face. I noticed his dark hair though, the grease in it was practically reflecting the sunlight like a mirror. He popped open the fuel tank and stuck the pump in it. As soon as it started pumping, he started cleaning my windows and checking my tires.

"More than you expected?" Soda chuckled, taking the bill from me with shaky hands.

"Less. Hell of a lot less," I chuckled with him.

"Less?" He seemed surprised. He clicked a button and the cash drawer of the register popped out.

"Where I am from, it's nearly $50 to fill up my tank," I told the truth. "And growing. I've got a friend who has to pay nearly $90 per fill."

"No way. I don't believe ya." He handed me my change back.

"Here, let me prove it." I reached for my phone, which I put in the pocket of my new pants, then I remembered that cell phones weren't invented in 1965.

I discreetly slipped my phone out of the pocket and tucked it into the sleeve of my shirt. When I turn around to leave, I don't want him to be able to see it sticking out of my butt pocket. I mean, if he looks at my butt.

"I have a picture of it but I left it at home..." I lied.

"I'll be working until six o'clock." He shrugged. "Ya, uh, you can stop by a-again."

"It's at the house before I moved here. I left it there," I gulped, hoping he was gullible enough to believe my tall-tale. I was a little thrown off by his stutter. Tongue-tied, maybe? I suddenly realized I forgot to pay for my drink, so I asked, "sorry, how much for the Coke?"

"Don't worry about it, it's on me." He grinned at me.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm real sure."

"Thank you, that's super sweet." I grabbed the chilled Coke from the counter.

"Where did you move from?" He asked.

"California."

"Glory." He whistled. "That's mighty far. Why'd you move?"

"My, um, my dad got a job down here." Which is actually what happened when we originally moved to Tulsa. That, and because it was closer to family. My mom used to live over here when she was a kid.

"Is he working in construction? They are building houses a few blocks down."

"Yes! He—uh, he is," I agreed a little too quickly. 

"Okay," he laughed. "Well, it makes sense since all the fancy folk are over on the west side. I didn't realize how fancy y'all really are over there."

"We really aren't," I promised.

"With $90 gas prices? You could buy a whole other car with that!"

Before I was able to try to defend myself, a voice called out from the garage, "Soda! I need your help out here." I didn't realize he was already done with my car.

"I got to go. It was nice to meet you..." he held his hand out.

"Brianna. Call me Bri." I grabbed it and shook it gently. "And you?"

"Sodapop. Call me Soda."

"Soda? That's a cool name," I said.

"My kid brothers name is Ponyboy."

"My..." I cleared my throat. "My kid sisters name is Jenni." It felt weird to copy him like that.

"Well, Bri, will I see you around?" His smile was literally perfect. He is so flawless, I wish I was at his level of attractiveness because then maybe I would have a chance that he would notice me. He was so beautiful, he can just light up any room. I just can't take my eyes off of him.

I am not the kind of girl who falls for a guy just because he flashes his charming smile at me, even though it seems to go on for miles and miles. He seems friendly, and sweet as sugarcane. With Sodapop Curtis simply just looking at me, I felt like I was over the moon.

"I think so," I said, twisting my soda in my hands and taking a few steps backwards. I couldn't stop looking at him, I felt like I was attracted to him like a magnet.

"Then I'll see you soon." He winked and went to the back.

I quickly walked out of the store, with my mind stuck on his gorgeous face. He obviously has amazing people-skills, because he had me swooning at his feet.

I wish gas was still this cheap. If only it was possible to buy gallons upon gallons worth of gas and hide it so I could pick it up if I ever get back to the future.

I hopped in my car and I drove forward a little to peer into the garage, it was a car mechanic shop. I remember the book saying that Soda and Steve live for fixing cars. Especially Steve. I didn't see anyone, so I headed out of the parking lot and drove down the main road.

I stopped for some food at a local Dairy Queen and I was trying to figure out what I should to do next. I brought the meal into the car and I fiddled on my phone while I ate. The battery was oddly never going down, which was good because I didn't have a charger. If it did, I'd have to tune into my inner Lillian and try to make one out of a battery, tin foil, a potato, and wire. It probably wouldn't work, but I'd have to figure something out.

I found that my phone still worked, sort of. I can make calls, as long as it's a number that exists, so I assume that I can take calls too. I can look something up on the internet, and I can use navigation. I cannot send or receive text messages, and absolutely no social media. This included music, I can't play any of the music I always listen to daily so that might have to be the biggest thing I have to get used to. I was surprised that anything on this phone worked at all. I don't imagine I'll be using it much.

Since gas was dirt cheap, I drove around and played little games in my head with the buildings and trees and poles that I recognized and ones that aren't there anymore in the 2017 Tulsa, Oklahoma.

An hour or so had passed by and I was hardcore procrastinating on finding a place to stay for the night. It would have been too hard to get an apartment, and my money would drain way too quickly. I continued to drive around, hoping to find a motel, until I came up behind some guy walking in the road. He was a tall guy in a pale blue shirt that blew in the wind with blue jeans. He carried his black leather jacket over his shoulder, and he was covered in car oil that I could see pretty well since the sun still hadn't fully set yet. I pulled over next to him and flashed my lights to get his attention. I had a strong suspicion that I already knew who it was. He could give me an idea of where I could stay.

He turned around and shielded his eyes from my headlights. He came to the passenger side door and opened it.

"I'm sorry but I don't—" he started. It was Soda! I knew it. "Bri?"

"Soda! I thought that was you." I waved him in and he sat down and closed the door. He must have had a lot of trust in me to come into my car. I felt like I knew him pretty well, even though he had no idea who I am. "Need a ride?"

"That would be great."

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"On the East side of town." He pointed to his hair. With a chuckle he said, "obviously."

"What do you mean?" I asked as I pulled onto the dark road.

"That's right, you're new. This town is separated by... well, I'm a Greaser. You can tell by the leather jacket and the hair."

"I was unfamiliar with the concept." I felt slightly awkward about it. Recalling The Outsiders book, I did my best to remember how it used to work back here in Tulsa. I had to remember that it's a completely different culture than in today's standards.

"So, little miss California, are you a Soc?" He asked.

"What causes that?" I lied.

"Where do you live?" He asked.

"I am actually just visiting." I stated, hoping that my answer would ease his curiosity.

"Oh. Just visitin'? Visitin' family?"

"Nope." I didn't want to have to explain myself too much. Thank god he didn't remember that I accidentally already said that I moved down here.

"You ain't no run away, are ya?"

"No! No, I'm not. But... I don't have a place to stay yet. Hoping to find a hotel or a motel or something." I focused on the road. "Got any recommendations?"

"Do you want to stay at my place? My family takes in kids all the time to stay over, but I'm sure my brothers wouldn't care about you stayin' for a bit."

"I couldn't." I shook my head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"You could never." He chuckled. "I ain't gonna let you leave. Motels and hotels around here ain't so safe for young girls like youse."

I exhaled in annoyance and my lips tightened as I tried not to hide my smile. I don't want to say that I wanted this to happen, because I know the burden that already plagued his family but I was relieved in my own selfish way that I wouldn't have to worry about myself, at least for tonight. "That would actually help me out a lot."

"They might give you a hard time at first. Your clothes and hair scream Soc." He chuckled. I couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or not.

"What would scream Greaser?" I asked.

"These jackets and long hair with grease in it. You'll see."

"Your family won't kick me out or anything, will they?" I asked. Half-jokingly, half-genuinely. I wondered if his parents were alive, or if they died already. I couldn't remember when that happens. And I can't just ask that.

"They won't bite, darlin'." He laughed. I noticed he was looking over at me, which made me grip the steering wheel tighter.

I giggled at his joke. I felt giddy when he looked at me, I really needed to straighten myself out. I think I was just tired and excited. A lot of things happened today, I just needed a quiet place to rest and really let everything soak into my brain.

He turned the radio up slightly and asked, "who do you listen to?"

My brain scrambled from modern singers to thinking of people he would know. I said, "I love to listen to Elvis, or The Beatles. Or Frank Sinatra."

He nodded in approval and said, "those ain't too bad. You like the rock and roll?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"How do you feel about the older stuff?" He asked.

"Um..." I said, trying to think of what his idea of older songs would be. "Like blues or jazz?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, I like it. I'm old-school like that."

My eyebrows scrunched together as I listened to the radio. I recognized the song as a popular tune released by The Beatles, All My Loving. I turned the radio up just a little more, my brain was really wrapping around the fact that this current radio station is playing a song released in the 1960s, by a band that only played together in the 1960s, and two members are dead as of 2017.

"Is this The Beatles?" I asked him, already knowing the answer but I still couldn't believe it. It really solidified the fact that I am truly in the 60s.

Soda chuckled softly. "It is. You heard of them?"

I turned the radio down a bit so I could hear him better but still allowed the song to play in the background. "I think everyone knows The Beatles. I grew up listening to them, my parents love them."

"How old are you? If I may ask so kindly," he asked.

"Seventeen. How about you?"

"I'm almost seventeen. I just wanted to make sure you ain't some twelve year old," he chuckled.

"A twelve year old driving a car?" I snickered.

"Hey, you never know." He kept laughing.

In 2017, he would be around seventy years old... as old as my grandfather. Hell, my grandpa grew up in Tulsa, it's a big city but Soda might even know him. I didn't like to imagine that, it creeped me out.

"You did say that you grew up listening to The Beatles," Soda continued.

"So?" I asked.

"I mean, I ain't heard of them none until a year ago."

I felt my breath halt in my throat. Shit... were The Beatles not famous in the United States until 1964? Geez, this is going to be tougher than I thought.

"Yeah, well... you know what I mean. I've felt like I've listened to them my whole life."

"I get that, I s'ppose."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something else that would be off. I'll really have to pay attention to the culture of the 60s if I want to stay inconspicuous and not draw any sort of unwanted attention to myself. So far, I'm not doing a great job.

"Turn here," he said while pointing to the turn that was coming up way too quickly.

I took a sharp right and drove through a quiet neighborhood with smaller looking houses. The deeper we got, we drove past more homes with paint chipping off the wood, broken windows or even windows that were boarded up, graffiti, rundown cars, and overgrown lawns.

"Right here."

I pulled into a driveway with two other cars parked in it. I put the car into park and he refused to get out of the car until I gave him the keys, because he thought I was going to drive away.

"There are seven of us. Ponyboy, Darry, Dally, me, Johnny, Steve, and Two-Bit. Of course they will introduce themselves but I wanted to give you a chance to remember all their names. Ponyboy and Darry are my brothers, Steve is my best friend, I don't know how we know Two-Bit, and Dally and Johnny kinda just joined the group. We call ourselves the Gang."

I already knew all that so it would be easy.

"There is a Dally and a Darry? That's kinda confusing," I said, recalling my thoughts when I first read the book a few years prior.

"Yeah, I guess it is. You ready?"

"Yeah." I unbuckled and met with him outside.

"You buckle your safety belt?" He asked, fighting a grin like he was teasing me.

"You don't?" I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Took me a second to realize he meant my seat belt.

"Well, it ain't against the law to not wear a safety belt, is it?"

"I don't know, is it?" I asked. How was I supposed to know that?

Soda had to think for a second. "I don't think so. At least I ain't gotten in trouble for it none."

The 1960's was a dangerous time. You'd think that he and his brothers would be stricter about seatbelts considering their parents died in a car accident, leaving them traumatized orphans. Or, perhaps it's the seatbelt that killed them. They were hit by a train, maybe they couldn't unbuckle in time. I don't know, and I will not ask.

"You got any bags?" He asked, and I went back to the car and opened the back to pull out my shopping bag. I held it up in the air and he asked, "that's it?"

"Yeah," I said, not thinking it was too little. I was probably going to leave the next day anyway. He grabbed the bag from me and walked me to the door.

"You travel light." He shook the bag a bit to really feel the weight.

"Just some clothes," I stated.

"There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom you can adopt if you need it. If you need some more clothes, you can always borrow some of Pony's stuff since he's more your size."

"Thanks."

We walked to the front door. I was weirdly excited to meet everyone. The book and movie are still very popular in middle school English classes in 2017, and it was like meeting celebrities from my childhood. But this was 1965, and the book hasn't even been published yet.

Did Soda say Johnny and Dally's name?

They are still alive?