#dianelane

Blurry photo of Matt and Diane lane sitting on steps during the filming of rumble fish

an: i am actually writing this half asleep and i am not good whatsoever but i wrote this for @cherrydipp

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September 5th, 1967.

Entry #10

If there's one thing me and Trip had in common, it's that we hated that Curtis kid. But if we're being honest, I didn't always hate him. Back in the day, Ponyboy and I were close, more like brothers than me and Trip. We’d race through the streets, pushing each other to be faster, better.

But then things changed, and it wasn't just about running anymore. See, I’m a Soc, and Ponyboy’s a Greaser. Our social classes started getting in the way. People around us kept reminding us of where we stood, and the gap between us kept growing.

It wasn’t long before the friendly competition turned into something uglier. I started shoulder-checking him during races, making sure he knew his place. And Sergei was always ready to help me. I'd give him the nod, and he'd kick dirt at Ponyboy whenever he ran by.

It wasn’t just about winning anymore; it was about making sure Ponyboy knew he couldn't rise above his class. Every race became a battle of pride, and I was determined to come out on top, no matter what it took.

One day, after a particularly rough race, I saw Ponyboy sitting alone on the bleachers, his head in his hands. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt, but I quickly squashed it down. I don't care for some low-life grease. We used to be friends, and now we were just enemies divided by the train track of social class.

Yet, I walked over, hesitating for a second before sitting down next to him. "Hey, Curtis," I said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, surprise flashing in his eyes before they hardened. "What do you want, Melvin?" he asked, his voice cold.

“Listen-” I began, before I stopped myself.

As I sat next to Ponyboy, I could feel the weight of our rivalry hanging in the air. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think we can just forget everything? Just like that?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but inside, I was feeling the pressure. "I don’t know, man. It just feels like we’re wasting our energy fighting each other instead of doing something about the real problems."

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "You think I want to be friends with a Soc? You guys don’t get it. You don’t understand what it’s like for us." The anger in his voice made my heart race. I wanted to reach out, to bridge that gap, but I knew it was too late. The line had been drawn, and there was no erasing it.

"Fine," I said, standing up. "You want to keep hating me? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to sit around and take it."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Ponyboy staring after me, our friendship shattered like glass.

Sometimes, it felt like the world was determined to keep us apart, and no matter how hard we tried, we were stuck in our roles. The rivalry would continue, and neither of us was ready to let go. The tension hung heavy in the air, and I knew deep down that this wasn't over.