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Where? Tulsa, Oklahoma.

When? 1966.

Who? Me. Theresa Cade. This is my story, my life, and my times, and adventures.

You may ask, "Who is this Theresa Cade, and why does she have to tell some elaborate story about nothing in particular?"

Well, I have a story to tell, about something in particular. It may not appeal to everyone, but I feel that life should be known from one side of the chessboard to the other, you know what I mean? Like, when there are social classes (which there are) and the fact that life is rough from the low class to the high class and that fact should be known by both classes. Now I'm not saying I know everything, in fact, on the subject of Socs (not to mention decent metaphors) I know next to nothing.

I don't know about the Socs and what they do to get themselves in trouble, or what they don't do to get themselves in trouble. Me, I'm a greaser, and I know what happens here, on this end of it all.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy this, my memoir, an insight into the life of one from the bottom.
I'm going to tell you a story about what's happening to me and my friends, my brother, and how life can get torn apart just like that.

Here goes nothing.

I felt the warm glow of the sun on my face, a welcome feeling indeed. Sitting behind a dumpster ain't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you.
I stretched and then, after a few minutes of contemplation, decided to get up and continue my journey.

"I'm so close now! Tulsa here I come!" I told myself the same thing every morning, since I left L.A. where I have been studying karate and law for the last 3 years.
Karate and law. A very odd combination indeed. You see, the only reason I left Tulsa in the first place was because Dad lost his job, again. This time he didn't bounce back and try to be optimistic. He got drunk, and violent. My brother was the main source of steam diffusion, if you catch my drift. Dad beat him bad. My brother, Johnny Cade- Johnnycake- he told me to stay out of the way and keep myself safe from Dad. I told him I wasn't going to let him take all the beatings; it wasn't fair to him, being a young kid, thirteen at that point, getting beat every time he turns around. Johnny said he'd keep me safe, because I'd always done everything for him; he wanted to help me back.

Then one day, the beatings crossed the line. Dad grabbed a two-by-four and started whipping Johnnycake. I lost it. I grabbed the other end of the plank and pushed it away from Johnny. Dad got angry. He brought the beam down hard on my shoulder. It snapped, of course, the beam I mean, not my shoulder, I have strong bones. Mind you, something felt wrong in my shoulder anyway, I think it might have been dislocated, but I never got it checked out. I collapsed and went blind in the pain; unfortunately I was still conscious, and feeling every pang of pain.
Dad just walked away. Johnny came running over to me and held me tight. He was sobbing.

"Terri, please say something!" he managed to choke out.

"Johnny..." I started, but winced instead. "I won't let this go on anymore, I'm going to stop all..." I winced again, "...this from happening to you... everyday... it can't go on anymore!"

"Terri!" he cried with a frightened look on his face, "You can't call the cops! Dad'll kill us!"

"Johnny... oh Johnny..." I winced again, and let out a soft sob, I could see again, and I was watching Johnny cry while he held me. I put my hand on his face. No one was going to hurt kindhearted Johnny EVER again. "I'm not going to go to the cops. I have another plan. Just you wait and see... this'll all be over soon."
And the next day I left. I left and hitchhiked my way to Los Angeles. I found a wise teacher, he was only teaching one student at the time, so he took me on when I explained my situation.

And that's how I learned karate.

Oh, right the law bit I mentioned! How could I forget? I spent my nights pouring over law books to try and find a way to get that wretched man away from Johnny or vice versa, which ever came first. I only found one option, were He (as I call Dad these days) had to let loose the information that he was abusing Johnny, and I could get Johnny away from Him forever. I was going to plead to take custody of Johnny.

I'm only a year older than him, true, but as soon as I turn seventeen, which is in three weeks, I can take custody, only in the case of dead parents, abuse or and only parent in jail (so says one of the texts).

Mom and Dad don't care about Johnny so it won't be to much of a problem taking another "damn waste of money" (as I heard Dad call us once) out of under their unworthy wings (I of course was the first waste gone).

Anyway, I'm driving the main highway on my motorcycle, and I can see the tall buildings of downtown Tulsa.

"I'm home, Johnnycake, how old are you now? Just sixteen right? I'll be seventeen in three weeks, and then I can finally fulfill my promise!" I thought to myself with a grin on my face and I could feel my heart beginning to race. "I'm home, Johnnycake... for good."