Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders. At all. Okay? There, I said it.

Rating: PG-13 (Of course, it's PG-13. I mean, Dally's in it. XD -gets bricked- Xx;)

Author Notes: I know that it's not gonna be really good, but . . . yeah. And sorry if I keep on switching POVs. And sorry if David is truly annoying. He really gets on my nerves, so feel free to brick him. --;

Summary: Socs still have problems—that is, all except for David. His life is perfect: big house, his own car, and parents that don't argue. The only rotten thing in his life is his attitude that's as big as he is rich. He didn't know how hard greasers had it—until now.

Inspired by "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" by Good Charlotte

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Always see it on T.V.or read it in the magazines;
Celebrities want sympathy.
All they do is piss and moan inside the Rolling Stone,
Talkin' 'bout how hard life can be.

I'd like to see them spend the week livin' life out on the street;
I don't think they would survive.
If they could spend a day or two walking in someone else's shoes,
I think they'd stumble and they'd fall.
They would fall.

Lifestyles of the rich and the famous;
They're always complaining, always complaining.
If money is such a problem,
Well, they've got mansions,
Think we should rob them . . .

"Do I HAVE TO?!"

"You have school tomorrow, honey!"

"Yeah, yeah . . . I'll get to it."

David sat lazily on his couch, flipping casually through channels on his television. There was absolutely nothing on at the moment, which was boring him to death. The only thing there was to do was study . . . but screw that!

He pushed his books off the table in front of him with his foot, rolling his eyes as his mother, who asked him what that sound was. "Nothing, mom!" he yelled back, running a hand through his rather short blond hair.

"Are you done with your homework?" came another call from his mom from upstairs.

Emerald green optics darted down to his textbooks on the floor. "Yeah, I am!" the 16 year old replied, rolling his eyes yet again. "Man, this is so boring! It's Saturday tomorrow, anyway," he growled, getting up from his seat. "Mom, I'll be back!"

"Where are you going?"

"To the library!" he lied, before slamming the door loudly behind him.((Author Note: Wow. Arrogance to the max. ))

After cruisin' for a while, I decided to go crash at my friend's house. His house ain't as big as mine, but it's good enough. I mean, that guy's got one hell of a sister. Think she likes me, too. Can't blame her, but the only bad thing is that she's almost never at home.(( Author Note: So much for modesty . . . ))

Anyway, as I get to his house, I let the tires scream for a while before coming to a complete stop at his driveway, leaving a few marks. Oh, well. Ain't my driveway. But then, I see him get tossed out of his house and thrown onto the front lawn. I cocked a brow, jumping out of the car. "Hey, man, you alright?"

"Y-yeah . . ."

I rolled my eyes. Typical. That's my friend, Chris. He can't really fend for himself, and his parents fight a lot. And I mean A LOT. Sometimes, I swear, I can hear those two all the way from my house. As Chris stood up, he brushed himself off, blue eyes full of worry, like he was gonna cry or somethin'. Chris is shorter than me and has blond hair that goes down below his ears. I keep on beggin' him to do somethin' about it, 'cause he looks an awful lot like a grease. And by the way, I HATE greasers. They're so damned annoying with their stupid collars flipped up, tryin' to act cool. Plus, they're poor.

"Let's dump this joint," I declared, jumping into my car, which currently had its top down. Chris timidly walked to the other side of my car, opened the door, and stepped in. I rolled my eyes at him. "Man, Chris, sometimes you make me wonder."

"Wonder about what?" he asked, glancing over at me.

"Nevermind," I sighed. That guy will never learn. I can't really remember why I let him hang out with me. "We're gonna pick up the rest of the guys, okay?"

"Okay . . ."

And for the rest of the ride, Chris was silent. And I mean goddamned dead silent. It kind of creeped me out, mostly because he was sittin' next to me and all the noise was in the back of the car where the rest of my friends were.

"Hey, David!" one called, grinning at me, "let's cross the tracks!"

A roar of approval came from behind me, but Chris said nothing. "Cross the tracks" meant to check out the East Side. There were always one or two stupid greasers that would dare to walk by themselves. And then, they would cry to their friends about getting beat up. Chris didn't like it, for some weird reason. I didn't really care, but since my other friends wanted to go, we did. That's a part of the trick to being popular. You see, I'm a real popular guy at school, thanks to my football-playing friends.

I glanced around, looking at all the crappy and broken-down houses. "I'm glad I don't live here," I muttered.

"They have it pretty rough, don't they?" asked Chris, who finally said something. Gladly, the others didn't hear, 'cause they were all talkin' 'bout cheerleaders or something. I don't know.

"Well, I mean, we have it rough, too! Greasers are such drama queens! 'Lookit me, I have such a hard life!'" I grinned over at Chris, but I couldn't tell if he was grinning back or not, since he was looking away from me. I shrugged it off and continued. "Our parents aren't exactly perfect, Chris! A lot of the guys at school's parents beat 'em up sometimes!" 'Sometimes' was the key word there, but I didn't want to say that to Chris.

"Except for yours . . ."

"What?" I shot a look at him, but he didn't do anything. "What'd you say . . .?"

"David, you don't know what it's like."

"Oh, please! Of course I do! I mean, my parents suspend me from doin' all sorts of things! And they're damn annoying!"

"Yeah, but . . ."

"But what? You stickin' up for, 'em, Chris?" I looked angrily at my friend before looking back at the road. "Look, man," I said in a quieter voice, "you can't stick up for greasers like that . . . not in front of the guys." I gestured back at the group.

"Right . . . popularity's everything," Chris said.

"Right," I confirmed, grinning. I didn't know at that moment that he was being sarcastic, but he was.

And I was stupid enough not to know that.

--
Author Notes: Eh. I know that was stupid. xX; Anyway, I'm still gonna write, 'cause it's my only form of amusement at the moment. XD And sorry about David, if you don't like him. (I don't really like him, either.) But for some reason, he reminds me of Dally . . . except a whole lot worse.

Anyway, review and tell me what you think about it!