The Outsiders - Simplified for 4th Grade ESL Readers

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the dark movie theater, I was thinking about two things: Paul Newman and how I would get home. I wished I looked like Paul Newman because he looks tough, but I didn’t think I was too bad looking. I have light-brown hair that is almost red and greenish-gray eyes. I wish my eyes were more gray because I don’t like boys with green eyes. I have longer hair than many boys because I’m a greaser, and most kids in my neighborhood don’t get haircuts often. I think I look better with long hair.

I had a long walk home and I was alone, but I usually walk alone because I like to watch movies without distractions. When I go to the movies with someone, it feels strange, like when someone reads a book over your shoulder. I’m different this way. My second oldest brother, Soda, who is sixteen, doesn’t read books at all, and my oldest brother, Darrel, who we call Darry, works a lot and doesn’t care for stories or drawing. Nobody in my group enjoys movies and books like I do, so sometimes I thought I was the only one.

Soda understands me more than Darry does. Soda is happy and smiles a lot, while Darry is serious and doesn’t smile much. Darry has been through a lot in his twenty years and had to grow up quickly. I love Soda more than anyone, even Mom and Dad. When I walk home, I sometimes wish I had someone with me because greasers can get into trouble if they are alone. We can get jumped by the Socs, short for Socials, who are rich kids from the West Side. Greasers are the boys from the East Side. We don’t have as much money as the Socs.

Sometimes, the Socs jump greasers and cause trouble for fun. They even get written about in the newspaper for their bad behavior one day, and then praised the next. Greasers are seen as bad kids; we steal and act wild sometimes. That doesn’t mean I do those things, though. Darry would be very upset if I got in trouble with the police. Since our mom and dad died, the three of us have to stay together as long as we behave. So, Soda and I do our best to avoid trouble.

I started to walk faster when I saw a red car following me. I was close to home, but I was nervous. I had never been in a fight, but I had seen my friend Johnny after four Socs hurt him, and it was awful. Johnny was scared from that moment. When the car pulled up, five Socs got out. I was scared because they looked bigger than me. I wanted to get away but didn’t know how. I noticed one Soc was carrying a knife. That made me very frightened.

They surrounded me, and I felt trapped. I stood still while they smiled and said, “Hey, greaser. We’re going to cut all your long hair off.” I tried to stay quiet, but I was afraid. Suddenly, one of them pulled out a knife and asked, “How about a haircut here?” I knew I had to get out, but they were too strong.

I started to scream for Soda or Darry, but they put a hand over my mouth. I bit it hard, and I could taste blood. Then there were loud noises around me, and the Socs ran away, leaving me on the ground. I was confused and could barely understand what happened but soon felt someone lifting me up. It was Darry.

“Are you okay, Ponyboy?” he asked. He was shaking me, and I wished he wouldn’t. I was dizzy. I knew it was Darry because he sounded like my father, but he acted differently. He looked like Dad but was way tougher. Soda came back and saw that I was hurt. He took care of me.

I had a bruise on my cheek, and it hurt. Darry asked if they hurt me badly. “I’m okay,” I said, but I wanted to cry. Soda rubbed my hair and said, “You’re okay, Ponyboy.” I tried to act tough, but I was scared. Soda always makes me feel better.

When the rest of our gang showed up, they looked tough and ready for a fight. Steve Randle was tall and liked cars. Two-Bit was the funny one and always made jokes. He loved to tease the police. Dally, also known as Dally Winston, was tough and had many problems. Johnny was the youngest; he was so shy and scared because of his home life.

I was thinking about how unfair it was to be a greaser. Sometimes we were treated badly by others, like when I had to use a knife in school for a project and someone called me a hood. I didn’t like that.

I remember running back home with Soda, who encouraged me not to worry. He told me that Darry cared about me, even if he yelled sometimes. I wanted to believe that. When I got home, I thought about my brothers, my neighborhood, and how sometimes hard it felt just to be me.