Categories > Books > Outsiders
Three Second to Victory
0 reviewsOn a warm summer afternoon in Tulsa, Ponyboy Curtis and Cherry Valance find themselves in an unexpected challenge. An impromptu wrestling match in the grass of a quiet vacant lot.
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The grass in the vacant lot was still dewy from the night before, glinting in the late morning sun. Ponyboy Curtis lay flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, squinting up at the cloudless sky. It was a perfect summer day—warm but breezy, quiet but not boring.
He heard the familiar crunch of sneakers behind him. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“You gonna nap out here all day?” Cherry Valance asked, her hands on her hips.
Ponyboy smirked. “Might.”
Cherry rolled her eyes and dropped onto the grass beside him, tossing an apple from hand to hand. Her red hair shimmered in the sunlight, and she looked relaxed in her shorts and a worn Elvis Presley T-shirt.
They'd become sort of unofficial friends ever since the whole mess with Bob and the rumble had settled. Life was far from perfect, but weirdly, in the aftermath, the line between Soc and Greaser had gotten a little blurrier—at least for the two of them.
“You know,” she said, taking a bite of her apple, “I’ve always figured you Greasers were scrappy, but I’m starting to think you’re just lazy.”
Ponyboy turned his head toward her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “All talk. No fight.”
Ponyboy propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re calling me lazy? I read Gone with the Wind last week for fun.”
“I said scrappy, not nerdy,” Cherry teased, grinning.
He made a dramatic gasp and clutched his chest. “You wound me, Valance.”
“You’ll live.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, until Cherry suddenly stood up, brushing grass off her legs.
“I bet I could take you,” she said casually.
Ponyboy blinked. “Take me where?”
“No, dummy. Take you—like, wrestle you. Pin you in five seconds flat.”
He laughed. “What, like Greaser vs. Soc wrestling? That a new school sport?”
“I’m serious,” she said, crouching like a wrestler might. “Come on. Just a little match. First to pin the other for three seconds wins.”
Ponyboy stared at her. She looked ridiculous and deadly serious all at once.
“You want to wrestle me?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged. “Unless you’re scared.”
That was all it took.
Ponyboy sprang to his feet. “Scared? I grew up with two older brothers. I invented survival wrestling.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Cherry said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
They squared off in the middle of the lot, circling each other on the soft grass. Cherry moved with a dancer’s grace—light on her feet, confident. Ponyboy crouched slightly, trying not to underestimate her.
“Okay,” he said. “Rules?”
“No punches. No hair pulling. No dirty moves.”
He grinned. “You mean like a Soc driving a Mustang into Greaser territory on a Friday night?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Three-second pin. Clean fight. Ready?”
He nodded.
“Go!”
Cherry lunged first, surprisingly fast. Ponyboy barely dodged in time, grabbing her arm and twisting lightly. She spun out of it with ease and went for his legs.
They tumbled into the grass in a flurry of limbs and laughter. Ponyboy scrambled to his knees, trying to grab her waist, but she wiggled free like a cat and tackled him from behind. He rolled out from under her just in time, and the two ended up face-to-face, panting and grinning.
“Not bad,” she said.
“You either.”
“Ready to give up?”
“In your dreams, Valance.”
She lunged again, and this time he caught her mid-charge, the two of them toppling over in a heap. Ponyboy ended up on top, quickly pinning her shoulders down.
“One… two—”
“Hey!” she squealed, squirming beneath him.
“Three!” he finished triumphantly.
“No way! I was moving! That doesn’t count!”
Ponyboy laughed. “A pin’s a pin.”
“You cheated.”
“How?”
“You distracted me with your—your dumb Greaser charm!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I had that.”
Cherry huffed and shoved him off, both of them laughing now. “Rematch. That was practice.”
“You sure? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you twice.”
“You’re about to eat grass, Curtis.”
They went again. This time, Cherry feinted left and then dove right, catching him off guard. They rolled, and she straddled him, trying to pin his arms. Ponyboy twisted beneath her, laughing, but her grip was surprisingly strong.
“One!” she shouted.
He squirmed.
“Two!”
She was leaning over him now, hair falling over her shoulder. His eyes met hers—bright, fierce, and way too close.
“Three!” she declared.
“I was distracted,” he said immediately, his voice cracking.
Cherry laughed breathlessly. “Oh, so now you admit it works both ways.”
He blinked up at her. “You really tackled me.”
“I told you I could.” She sat back, still on his hips, grinning like she’d just won a trophy.
“Well,” Ponyboy said, brushing grass out of his hair. “Looks like we’re one for one.”
Cherry smirked. “Tiebreaker?”
He hesitated, then smiled. “You’re on.”
They didn’t keep score after that. They wrestled and laughed until the sun began to dip low in the sky, and their limbs were too tired to keep going. Ponyboy had grass stains on his jeans and a twig stuck in his hair. Cherry’s ponytail had half fallen out, and her elbows were smudged with dirt.
Neither of them cared.
By now, their “friendly competition” had turned into something more—a challenge, a stubborn test of wills neither wanted to back down from. Every time one of them came close to getting a full pin, the other would wriggle out at the last second, breathless and laughing, calling foul or claiming distraction.
But exhaustion wasn’t enough to stop them. There had to be a winner.
“Alright,” Cherry panted, hands on her knees, “this is it. Sudden death. Next pin wins.”
Ponyboy wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“You sure you don’t want to call it a draw? You look like you’ve got about two moves left in you before you pass out.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I could say the same to you, Curtis. You look like you lost a fight with a lawn mower.”
“All part of the strategy." He grinned. "Lure you into a false sense of security.”
“Oh, please.” She stood upright, shaking out her arms. “Let’s end this.”
They circled each other again, slower this time. Their muscles ached, and neither of them had much speed left—but that didn’t stop the fire in their eyes.
Ponyboy feinted left. Cherry didn’t fall for it. She darted to his right and grabbed his wrist, twisting to pull him down—but he pivoted, slipping behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
They tumbled to the ground in a heap again, a groan escaping both of them as their tired bodies hit the grass.
Cherry rolled, trying to get on top. Ponyboy twisted with her. They wrestled, grappling like two worn-out boxers in the twelfth round, clumsy and grinning through gritted teeth.
“You’re not—gonna win—this—” Cherry huffed as she grabbed at his shoulders.
“Just—admit—you’re—out of gas—” Ponyboy grunted back, legs tangling with hers.
She shoved him back hard and managed to straddle his chest, pinning his shoulders to the ground with both hands.
“One!” she counted, grinning triumphantly.
Ponyboy squirmed, pushing up with what little strength he had left.
“Two!” she said louder, her hair falling into her face.
He gave one last effort, twisting his hips to throw her off balance—
But she leaned down quickly, using her full weight to press him down.
“Three!” she shouted, laughing breathlessly as he went still beneath her.
Silence fell, broken only by their panting breaths and the distant rustling of wind through the trees.
Cherry stayed there, straddling him in victory, flushed and triumphant. “I win,” she said smugly.
Ponyboy blinked up at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “That’s it? You’re just gonna sit on me like a throne and gloat?”
She smirked. “I mean, this is the seat of champions.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re unbearable.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
Cherry leaned in slightly, her face hovering just above his. Her grin was wicked. “Say I’m the better wrestler.”
Ponyboy narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” He paused. “You’re the better cheater.”
She pushed down on his shoulders again. “Try again.”
He gave a long, dramatic sigh. “You’re the better wrestler.”
Cherry raised a fist in the air like she’d just won the heavyweight title. “Yes! Victory!”
Ponyboy couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”
“You’re just mad you got beat by a girl.”
“Not just a girl,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “A Soc girl.”
“Ooooh,” she said, wincing playfully. “Twist that knife, why don’t you.”
She finally rolled off him, flopping onto the grass beside him, arms outstretched. “My whole body is going to hate me tomorrow.”
“Same,” he said, staring up at the darkening sky. “But it was worth it.”
They lay there in silence for a while, both too tired to move, grinning up at the first few stars beginning to peek out above.
“You know,” Cherry said after a moment, “I think this makes us even.”
Ponyboy turned his head toward her. “Even?”
“After everything,” she said quietly. “The fights, the yelling, the ‘Socs vs. Greasers’ stuff. Today…this felt normal.”
Ponyboy nodded slowly. “Yeah. I liked this better than the rumble, that’s for sure.”
Cherry chuckled. “A lot fewer bruises. Well—mostly.” She nudged his shoulder. “You’ve got a wicked grass burn on your elbow, by the way.”
He lifted his arm and groaned. “Great. A battle scar.”
They both laughed again.
Then, without thinking, Cherry reached over and brushed the twig out of his hair. Ponyboy froze—not because it startled him, but because it felt surprisingly natural.
“You had a tree in your hair."
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Their eyes met for a brief second longer than necessary. Something unspoken passed between them—something shy and unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome.
Cherry looked away first, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I should probably head back before it gets too dark.”
Ponyboy nodded, sitting up.
“Yeah. Me too.”
They both stood slowly, brushing grass off their clothes. Cherry turned to leave but hesitated.
“Hey, Curtis?” she said over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
She grinned. “Next time, I’ll give you a ten-second head start. Might help.”
He laughed.
“Next time, I’m bringing backup.”
With that, they went their separate ways—limping a little, sore in all the best ways—knowing this would be a story they’d tease each other about for a long time to come.
He heard the familiar crunch of sneakers behind him. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“You gonna nap out here all day?” Cherry Valance asked, her hands on her hips.
Ponyboy smirked. “Might.”
Cherry rolled her eyes and dropped onto the grass beside him, tossing an apple from hand to hand. Her red hair shimmered in the sunlight, and she looked relaxed in her shorts and a worn Elvis Presley T-shirt.
They'd become sort of unofficial friends ever since the whole mess with Bob and the rumble had settled. Life was far from perfect, but weirdly, in the aftermath, the line between Soc and Greaser had gotten a little blurrier—at least for the two of them.
“You know,” she said, taking a bite of her apple, “I’ve always figured you Greasers were scrappy, but I’m starting to think you’re just lazy.”
Ponyboy turned his head toward her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “All talk. No fight.”
Ponyboy propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re calling me lazy? I read Gone with the Wind last week for fun.”
“I said scrappy, not nerdy,” Cherry teased, grinning.
He made a dramatic gasp and clutched his chest. “You wound me, Valance.”
“You’ll live.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, until Cherry suddenly stood up, brushing grass off her legs.
“I bet I could take you,” she said casually.
Ponyboy blinked. “Take me where?”
“No, dummy. Take you—like, wrestle you. Pin you in five seconds flat.”
He laughed. “What, like Greaser vs. Soc wrestling? That a new school sport?”
“I’m serious,” she said, crouching like a wrestler might. “Come on. Just a little match. First to pin the other for three seconds wins.”
Ponyboy stared at her. She looked ridiculous and deadly serious all at once.
“You want to wrestle me?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged. “Unless you’re scared.”
That was all it took.
Ponyboy sprang to his feet. “Scared? I grew up with two older brothers. I invented survival wrestling.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Cherry said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
They squared off in the middle of the lot, circling each other on the soft grass. Cherry moved with a dancer’s grace—light on her feet, confident. Ponyboy crouched slightly, trying not to underestimate her.
“Okay,” he said. “Rules?”
“No punches. No hair pulling. No dirty moves.”
He grinned. “You mean like a Soc driving a Mustang into Greaser territory on a Friday night?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Three-second pin. Clean fight. Ready?”
He nodded.
“Go!”
Cherry lunged first, surprisingly fast. Ponyboy barely dodged in time, grabbing her arm and twisting lightly. She spun out of it with ease and went for his legs.
They tumbled into the grass in a flurry of limbs and laughter. Ponyboy scrambled to his knees, trying to grab her waist, but she wiggled free like a cat and tackled him from behind. He rolled out from under her just in time, and the two ended up face-to-face, panting and grinning.
“Not bad,” she said.
“You either.”
“Ready to give up?”
“In your dreams, Valance.”
She lunged again, and this time he caught her mid-charge, the two of them toppling over in a heap. Ponyboy ended up on top, quickly pinning her shoulders down.
“One… two—”
“Hey!” she squealed, squirming beneath him.
“Three!” he finished triumphantly.
“No way! I was moving! That doesn’t count!”
Ponyboy laughed. “A pin’s a pin.”
“You cheated.”
“How?”
“You distracted me with your—your dumb Greaser charm!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I had that.”
Cherry huffed and shoved him off, both of them laughing now. “Rematch. That was practice.”
“You sure? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you twice.”
“You’re about to eat grass, Curtis.”
They went again. This time, Cherry feinted left and then dove right, catching him off guard. They rolled, and she straddled him, trying to pin his arms. Ponyboy twisted beneath her, laughing, but her grip was surprisingly strong.
“One!” she shouted.
He squirmed.
“Two!”
She was leaning over him now, hair falling over her shoulder. His eyes met hers—bright, fierce, and way too close.
“Three!” she declared.
“I was distracted,” he said immediately, his voice cracking.
Cherry laughed breathlessly. “Oh, so now you admit it works both ways.”
He blinked up at her. “You really tackled me.”
“I told you I could.” She sat back, still on his hips, grinning like she’d just won a trophy.
“Well,” Ponyboy said, brushing grass out of his hair. “Looks like we’re one for one.”
Cherry smirked. “Tiebreaker?”
He hesitated, then smiled. “You’re on.”
They didn’t keep score after that. They wrestled and laughed until the sun began to dip low in the sky, and their limbs were too tired to keep going. Ponyboy had grass stains on his jeans and a twig stuck in his hair. Cherry’s ponytail had half fallen out, and her elbows were smudged with dirt.
Neither of them cared.
By now, their “friendly competition” had turned into something more—a challenge, a stubborn test of wills neither wanted to back down from. Every time one of them came close to getting a full pin, the other would wriggle out at the last second, breathless and laughing, calling foul or claiming distraction.
But exhaustion wasn’t enough to stop them. There had to be a winner.
“Alright,” Cherry panted, hands on her knees, “this is it. Sudden death. Next pin wins.”
Ponyboy wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“You sure you don’t want to call it a draw? You look like you’ve got about two moves left in you before you pass out.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I could say the same to you, Curtis. You look like you lost a fight with a lawn mower.”
“All part of the strategy." He grinned. "Lure you into a false sense of security.”
“Oh, please.” She stood upright, shaking out her arms. “Let’s end this.”
They circled each other again, slower this time. Their muscles ached, and neither of them had much speed left—but that didn’t stop the fire in their eyes.
Ponyboy feinted left. Cherry didn’t fall for it. She darted to his right and grabbed his wrist, twisting to pull him down—but he pivoted, slipping behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
They tumbled to the ground in a heap again, a groan escaping both of them as their tired bodies hit the grass.
Cherry rolled, trying to get on top. Ponyboy twisted with her. They wrestled, grappling like two worn-out boxers in the twelfth round, clumsy and grinning through gritted teeth.
“You’re not—gonna win—this—” Cherry huffed as she grabbed at his shoulders.
“Just—admit—you’re—out of gas—” Ponyboy grunted back, legs tangling with hers.
She shoved him back hard and managed to straddle his chest, pinning his shoulders to the ground with both hands.
“One!” she counted, grinning triumphantly.
Ponyboy squirmed, pushing up with what little strength he had left.
“Two!” she said louder, her hair falling into her face.
He gave one last effort, twisting his hips to throw her off balance—
But she leaned down quickly, using her full weight to press him down.
“Three!” she shouted, laughing breathlessly as he went still beneath her.
Silence fell, broken only by their panting breaths and the distant rustling of wind through the trees.
Cherry stayed there, straddling him in victory, flushed and triumphant. “I win,” she said smugly.
Ponyboy blinked up at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “That’s it? You’re just gonna sit on me like a throne and gloat?”
She smirked. “I mean, this is the seat of champions.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re unbearable.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
Cherry leaned in slightly, her face hovering just above his. Her grin was wicked. “Say I’m the better wrestler.”
Ponyboy narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” He paused. “You’re the better cheater.”
She pushed down on his shoulders again. “Try again.”
He gave a long, dramatic sigh. “You’re the better wrestler.”
Cherry raised a fist in the air like she’d just won the heavyweight title. “Yes! Victory!”
Ponyboy couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”
“You’re just mad you got beat by a girl.”
“Not just a girl,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “A Soc girl.”
“Ooooh,” she said, wincing playfully. “Twist that knife, why don’t you.”
She finally rolled off him, flopping onto the grass beside him, arms outstretched. “My whole body is going to hate me tomorrow.”
“Same,” he said, staring up at the darkening sky. “But it was worth it.”
They lay there in silence for a while, both too tired to move, grinning up at the first few stars beginning to peek out above.
“You know,” Cherry said after a moment, “I think this makes us even.”
Ponyboy turned his head toward her. “Even?”
“After everything,” she said quietly. “The fights, the yelling, the ‘Socs vs. Greasers’ stuff. Today…this felt normal.”
Ponyboy nodded slowly. “Yeah. I liked this better than the rumble, that’s for sure.”
Cherry chuckled. “A lot fewer bruises. Well—mostly.” She nudged his shoulder. “You’ve got a wicked grass burn on your elbow, by the way.”
He lifted his arm and groaned. “Great. A battle scar.”
They both laughed again.
Then, without thinking, Cherry reached over and brushed the twig out of his hair. Ponyboy froze—not because it startled him, but because it felt surprisingly natural.
“You had a tree in your hair."
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Their eyes met for a brief second longer than necessary. Something unspoken passed between them—something shy and unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome.
Cherry looked away first, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I should probably head back before it gets too dark.”
Ponyboy nodded, sitting up.
“Yeah. Me too.”
They both stood slowly, brushing grass off their clothes. Cherry turned to leave but hesitated.
“Hey, Curtis?” she said over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
She grinned. “Next time, I’ll give you a ten-second head start. Might help.”
He laughed.
“Next time, I’m bringing backup.”
With that, they went their separate ways—limping a little, sore in all the best ways—knowing this would be a story they’d tease each other about for a long time to come.
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