Chapter 1
The Brotherhood of Youth: A Tale of Friendship and Change
When S.E. Hinton published "That Was Then, This Is Now" in 1971, she had already established herself as the voice of a generation with "The Outsiders." This second novel cemented her legacy as one of the most influential young adult authors of all time. What's remarkable is that Hinton overcame a devastating three-year writer's block to create this masterpiece, motivated by her boyfriend's (now husband's) ultimatum that she write two pages daily before he would take her out. The book resonated deeply with teenagers across America, exploring the painful reality of growing apart from childhood friends. Francis Ford Coppola was so moved by Hinton's work that he adapted both "The Outsiders" and "Rumble Fish" into films, while "That Was Then, This Is Now" was adapted in 1985 starring Craig Sheffer and Emilio Estevez. Hinton's raw, honest portrayal of teenage life continues to speak to new generations, with over 14 million copies of her books in print and countless teenagers finding themselves in her characters' struggles.
Chapter 2
The Hustlers: Life on the Edge
In the gritty, unforgiving neighborhoods of an unnamed Oklahoma town, sixteen-year-old Bryon Douglas and his best friend Mark navigate a precarious existence, hustling pool at Charlie's Bar to scrape together enough money to survive. Bryon, tall and dark-featured, possesses an uncanny ability to manipulate his appearance, making himself look younger than his years - a valuable asset in their nightly pool hustles. Mark, smaller in stature with distinctive golden eyes and a predatory lion-like grin, carries himself with a dangerous grace that belies his troubled past. After his parents' violent deaths - killing each other in a horrific drunken confrontation years ago - Mark found sanctuary with Bryon and his mother, forming a bond deeper than mere friendship.
Charlie's Bar serves as their unofficial headquarters, a dim sanctuary where the acrid smell of cigarette smoke mingles with stale beer and broken dreams. Charlie, the gruff but oddly paternal bartender, maintains a running commentary on their mounting tab while continuing to serve them Cokes on credit - a small act of kindness in their harsh world. Mark's cavalier promise to settle their debt "tomorrow" exemplifies his approach to life: rules are merely suggestions, and morality is flexible when survival is at stake. His casual dismissal of obligations isn't born of malice but rather a deep-seated belief that the world owes him after taking everything from him so early.
Their carefully balanced world shifts with the arrival of M&M, a thirteen-year-old anomaly in their hardened environment. His Army jacket, adorned with a peace symbol that gleams like a beacon of hope, stands in stark contrast to the neighborhood's prevalent violence. M&M's peculiar habit of constantly consuming his namesake candy and his earnest intellectual curiosity - reading Newsweek among comic books in the drugstore - mark him as different. His endearing literary confusion, mistaking Bryon's name for the famous poet "Lord Byron," leads to an innocent suggestion about poetry that highlights the vast gulf between his worldview and the harsh reality surrounding them.
This innocence proves dangerous in their violent ecosystem. When Curly Shepard and his gang target M&M outside the bowling alley - mocking his peace medal before viciously kneeing him in the face - Bryon and Mark's intervention is swift and decisive. Their efficient handling of the attackers demonstrates years of street-fighting experience, but the aftermath reveals deeper fissures. Mark's casual suggestion about targeting a Black man next exposes the ingrained prejudices of their environment - prejudices that have seeped into their consciousness through years of exposure. M&M's tearful condemnation of their hypocrisy - saving him only to potentially victimize someone else for their differences - serves as a mirror reflecting the moral contradictions in their lives.
The scene crystallizes the story's fundamental conflict: the tension between loyalty and morality in a world where violence begets violence. Bryon's emerging consciousness begins to question the compromises they've accepted as normal, while Mark remains anchored in their survival-first mentality - a philosophy that's kept them alive but at a cost to their humanity. Their return to Charlie's Bar, despite M&M's moral challenge, symbolizes their inability to easily escape the gravitational pull of their circumstances, even as cracks begin to form in their seemingly unshakeable brotherhood.
Chapter 3
Hospital Visits: Confronting Mortality and Difference
Life takes a serious turn when Bryon and Mark hitchhike to visit Bryon's mother in the hospital. Her expensive operation has forced them to sell everything valuable, yet they're still short on money. Bryon hunts for jobs while Mark steals to contribute-a moral difference that Bryon notices but doesn't yet fully confront. For Mark, stealing isn't wrong; it's simply a game with rules to avoid getting caught.
At the hospital, Bryon's mother immediately tells them about a friendless patient across the hall-typical of her tendency to collect strays, the same tendency that brought Mark into their family. While Bryon heads to the cafeteria, Mark actually visits this lonely kid, demonstrating unexpected compassion. In the basement cafeteria, Bryon encounters a beautiful dark-haired girl with gray eyes who takes his order. She seems to know him, but he doesn't recognize her until her smile gives her away-it's Cathy, M&M's sister, transformed from the braces-wearing girl he once knew into a striking young woman.
Later, Bryon finds Mark with Mike Chambers, the injured boy, who shares a harrowing story. Mike had defended a Black girl from harassment, driven her home, only to have her neighborhood friends beat him nearly to death for being white. Despite this trauma, Mike harbors no hatred toward her or Black people generally. Mark's response is telling: "If anybody ever hurt me like that I'd hate them for the rest of my life"-foreshadowing his inability to forgive betrayal.
These hospital visits force Bryon to confront realities he'd rather avoid: his mother's mortality, the financial precariousness of their lives, and the complex moral questions raised by Mike's story. The hospital becomes a crucible where characters reveal their true selves-Mark's surprising kindness toward Mike contrasted with his stated capacity for lifelong hatred; Bryon's awkwardness with Cathy revealing genuine attraction rather than his usual smooth approach to girls.
The setting also introduces the theme of perspective-how different characters interpret the same events. Mike's ability to forgive his attackers stands in stark contrast to Mark's philosophy of vengeance. These divergent worldviews will ultimately drive the story's central conflict as Bryon finds himself caught between them, forced to choose what kind of person he wants to become.
Chapter 4
Growing Pains: The Search for Identity
Bryon's job hunt proves frustrating as he faces rejection after rejection. When he asks Charlie for work at the bar, Charlie refuses but offers something more valuable-insight. "You need to figure out why you haven't found a job yet," Charlie tells him, suggesting there's something about Bryon himself-his attitude or appearance-that's holding him back. This forces Bryon to begin examining himself critically, a crucial step in his maturation.
When Charlie lends Bryon his car for Saturday night, Bryon asks Cathy to a dance, while Mark decides to go stag. The dance becomes a stage for exploring jealousy and social dynamics. When Cathy comments on Mark's beauty, Bryon feels a flash of intense jealousy-a complex mixture of hatred and love that passes quickly but reveals the possessiveness underlying their brotherhood. Angela Shepard approaches Bryon at the dance, but he brushes her off when she can't handle his teasing about Curtis rejecting her-setting up future conflict.
The evening takes a dramatic turn when Mark is injured in a fight, struck with a beer bottle and left bleeding and unconscious. Bryon learns that Angela Shepard orchestrated the attack after being rejected by Curtis. At the hospital, Mark receives ten stitches and is released despite being groggy from painkillers and beer. Back home, Mark confesses to Bryon how scared he felt when injured and how he considers Bryon his only real family-a rare moment of vulnerability from the normally confident Mark.
During Mark's recovery, they reminisce about childhood adventures-climbing fences at drive-in movies, shooting water pistols from rooftops, hot-wiring cars, and participating in gang fights. Mark reflects on how things are changing and how the gang brotherhood they once valued is fading. Bryon summarizes this transition with the phrase that becomes the novel's title and central theme: "That was then, and this is now."
This section captures the painful process of growing up and apart. The boys' shared nostalgia for their wild past contrasts with their diverging present paths. Bryon is beginning to question their old ways and seek legitimate work, while Mark clings to the familiar patterns of their youth. Their brotherhood, once unquestioned, now faces the strain of different values and priorities emerging as they mature at different rates and in different directions.
Chapter 5
Death at Charlie's: The End of Innocence
A seemingly routine night of pool hustling at Charlie's bar becomes a turning point that shatters the boys' perception of invulnerability. Using their carefully choreographed routine - Mark playing the reluctant participant while Bryon acts as the eager, inexperienced kid - they successfully hustle two menacing Texans. The scheme starts with M&M's borrowed five dollars, which they skillfully parlay into twenty-five through calculated manipulation and practiced deception. The familiar con feels like just another adventure until it spirals into violence.
The Texans, humiliated and angry, wait in the darkness outside. Armed with a gun and brass knuckles, they ambush the boys in what would have been a brutal assault if not for Charlie's intervention. Charlie emerges from his bar wielding his ever-present shotgun - the same weapon that had always seemed more prop than protection. In the chaotic confrontation that follows, shots ring out in the night, and Charlie falls. The sudden, stark reality of death transforms their world in an instant.
Charlie's death creates a philosophical chasm between Bryon and Mark that reveals their fundamental differences. Bryon retreats into introspection, processing his grief through long conversations with Cathy about mortality and consequence. He recalls Charlie's disturbing confession about killing someone at age twelve - a story that had seemed like tough-guy posturing but now carries the weight of real violence. Mark, however, remains emotionally disconnected, treating Charlie's death as just another event, his apparent lack of empathy disturbing Bryon deeply.
The police's decision to give Charlie's car to the boys adds another layer of complexity to their grief. The vehicle becomes a complicated symbol - part memorial, part burden of guilt, and part reminder of adult responsibility thrust upon them too soon. Every time they drive it, they're forced to confront the reality that their actions have consequences beyond their control.
The aftermath reveals a growing emotional schism between the foster brothers. When they sit in silence across from Charlie's now-boarded establishment, their shared history suddenly feels insufficient to bridge their diverging perspectives. Bryon sees the boards as a memorial to lost innocence and the price of their reckless behavior. Mark views them merely as an inconvenience, another obstacle to overcome. Their contrasting reactions to tragedy become a predictor of their future paths - Bryon moving toward painful but necessary growth, while Mark remains anchored to a worldview that can no longer sustain either of them.
This pivotal moment forces Bryon to confront not just mortality, but the entire framework of his teenage worldview. The casual violence they've flirted with, the petty crimes they've committed, and the risks they've taken all suddenly seem foolish and dangerous rather than exciting. Meanwhile, Mark's inability to process or acknowledge this transformation creates an invisible barrier between them - one that will only widen as they continue to process Charlie's death in fundamentally different ways.
Chapter 6
The Ribbon: Searching for M&M in a Changing World
With Bryon's mother bedridden and money tight, Bryon intensifies his job search, taking Charlie's advice about his appearance and attitude. Mark notices these efforts and surprisingly acknowledges not wanting to "sponge forever"-his first recognition of dependency. This moment of self-awareness suggests Mark might be capable of change after all, though Bryon struggles to express how much Mark means to their family.
Meanwhile, Cathy worries about her brother M&M smoking marijuana and falling in with a new crowd. M&M's unhappiness at home stems from conflicts with their father over his appearance and ideas-the generational divide that defined the late 1960s. When they pick up Mark and M&M for a night cruising the Ribbon-a two-mile stretch of drive-ins and hangouts where teens socialize-the four squeeze into the front seat of Charlie's car, creating a temporary harmony that won't last.
At a stoplight, Mark impulsively jumps out to punch a guy in a Corvette who made an obscene remark, demonstrating his quick temper and territorial nature. When Cathy seems unimpressed, tension grows between them. "I don't like being analyzed," Mark snaps when Cathy tries to understand him-revealing his resistance to introspection.
The night takes a dramatic turn when M&M suddenly announces he isn't going home and disappears among the long-haired teens at Jay's drive-in. Despite searching frantically until 1 AM, Bryon and Cathy can't find him. When they inform her parents, her father dismissively calls it "just a stage," while Cathy insists M&M planned his disappearance carefully.
M&M's absence stretches into weeks. Bryon secures a job at a supermarket, working on his attitude while bringing in money. Mark also contributes more money than ever, though Bryon never questions its source-a deliberate blindness that will have consequences.
The Ribbon becomes both literal and metaphorical-a physical location where teens cruise to see and be seen, but also the thread connecting their childhood to an uncertain future. As they search for M&M night after night, they're really searching for the innocence he represents, for a simpler time before Charlie's death and adult responsibilities. The hippie movement M&M embraces offers an alternative to their rough-and-tumble world, but comes with its own dangers they don't yet fully understand.
Chapter 7
Betrayals: The Breaking Point of Brotherhood
The tensions building throughout the story erupt in a series of betrayals that irreparably damage relationships. First, Mark betrays Angela Shepard by cutting off her beautiful long hair while she's passed out drunk-revenge for her role in his earlier injury. This act of calculated cruelty reveals Mark's capacity for vengeance and his inability to let go of grudges. Bryon, affected by rum and emotional exhaustion, breaks down crying afterward, disturbed by their action and worried about Mike in the hospital and the missing M&M.
Mark then reveals he knows M&M's whereabouts but has kept this information from Bryon and Cathy despite their frantic searching. This deliberate withholding demonstrates Mark's manipulation of those closest to him, using information as power. He promises to take Bryon to M&M the next day, but the damage to their trust is already done.
When they visit the hippie house where M&M is staying, Bryon discovers another betrayal-Mark has been living a double life, familiar with the hippie residents and dating a blonde girl called "Cat." He has adopted their language ("Peace, baby") and participates in their drug culture while hiding this connection from Bryon. The house itself, with its posters and open marijuana use, represents a world completely separate from their shared past.
The final betrayal comes when Tim and Curly Shepard brutally beat Bryon for cutting Angela's hair-punishment for Mark's action. Mark tends to Bryon's wounds afterward, crying with guilt that Bryon was beaten for something he did. When Bryon refuses to seek revenge on the Shepards, rejecting the cycle of violence, Mark is deeply upset-revealing how fundamentally their values have diverged.
These betrayals culminate in a moment of clarity for Bryon at Charlie's grave, where he finally thanks Charlie for letting him use his car and for saving his life-acknowledging a debt he wishes he'd expressed while Charlie was alive. This recognition of missed opportunities and regret foreshadows the irreversible decision Bryon will soon make regarding Mark.
The betrayals in this section aren't just plot points; they represent the breakdown of the brotherhood that once defined Bryon and Mark's relationship. Each betrayal widens the gulf between them until their divergent paths become impossible to reconcile, forcing a final confrontation that will destroy what remains of their bond.
Chapter 8
The Point of No Return: Choices and Consequences
The story reaches its climax when Bryon and Cathy finally find M&M at the hippie house, discovering him in the midst of a "bad trip" after taking LSD. Huddled in a corner, thin, dirty, and terrified, M&M rambles about spiders in his stomach and colors screaming-a horrifying transformation of the innocent boy they knew. At the hospital, the doctor delivers devastating news: while M&M will recover physically, he may have permanent mental damage.
This tragedy catalyzes Bryon's final break with Mark. Returning home after comforting a distraught Cathy, Bryon discovers a cylinder filled with hundreds of pills under Mark's mattress. The revelation that Mark is dealing drugs-possibly the same substances that harmed M&M-forces Bryon to make an impossible choice between loyalty and morality.
In a moment of cold clarity, Bryon calls the police. When Mark returns home, he tries to justify his actions, claiming he never sold to M&M and offering to quit, but it's too late. Mark pleads desperately, reminding Bryon of his record and what prison will mean for him, but Bryon remains silent as police arrest Mark and take him away while their mother sobs.
The morning after, Bryon wakes feeling sick with regret, wondering why he betrayed Mark when he could have just asked him to quit dealing. His mother tries to comfort him, insisting he did the right thing, but Bryon can't believe it. At work, he moves mechanically through the day, numb to everything. When Cathy visits, he treats her coldly, unable to feel anything for her anymore-collateral damage in the emotional devastation of his decision.
Mark's trial follows, where he appears relaxed and indifferent, laughing when Bryon describes them as "like brothers." Mark receives five years in the reformatory but shows no reaction. In the months that follow, Bryon withdraws from everyone, focusing only on school and work. He encounters M&M, now with shorter hair and permanently damaged-confused, forgetful, and afraid of flashbacks.
When Bryon finally visits Mark at the reformatory, he finds him transformed-thinner, harder, and filled with hate. Mark tells Bryon he never wants to see him again, saying coldly, "That was then, and this is now"-turning Bryon's earlier observation into a final rejection. Bryon later learns Mark was sent to state prison.
Left empty and numb, Bryon spends his days wondering what might have happened differently, longing for the certainty he felt as a child when he thought he had all the answers. The novel ends with this unresolved ache-no neat resolution, no moral certainty, just the painful reality that growing up means making impossible choices and living with their consequences.
Chapter 9
The Price of Growth: Innocence Lost and Wisdom Gained
The aftermath of Bryon's decision to turn Mark in reveals the true cost of moral choices. Bryon's physical survival comes at the expense of his emotional life-he moves through days mechanically, unable to feel anything for Cathy or connect with others. His relationship with his mother strains as she insists he did the right thing while he drowns in regret. The certainty he sought through his moral stand proves elusive, leaving him questioning whether any decision could have preserved both his conscience and his brotherhood with Mark.
M&M's condition serves as a stark reminder of innocence destroyed. Once curious and optimistic, he now appears with shorter hair and permanent damage-confused, forgetful, and afraid of flashbacks. His transformation from peace-loving hippie to damaged young man parallels Bryon's journey from confident hustler to hollow shell. Both have lost something essential that can never be recovered.
Mark's final rejection during Bryon's reformatory visit completes the circle of loss. Transformed physically and emotionally-thinner, harder, filled with hate-Mark throws Bryon's words back at him: "That was then, and this is now." The phrase that once described their nostalgic reflection on childhood now becomes a weapon, severing their brotherhood permanently. Mark's transfer to state prison suggests further hardening, the completion of his journey from troubled youth to hardened criminal.
The novel refuses easy answers or moral certainty. Bryon did what society would call "the right thing" by turning in a drug dealer, but this action destroyed his most important relationship and left him emotionally devastated. Mark's dealing endangered vulnerable kids like M&M, yet his punishment seems disproportionate given his background and the limited options available to him. M&M sought freedom and acceptance among the hippies but found only chemical escape that damaged him permanently.
What remains is the painful wisdom that growing up means losing the black-and-white certainties of childhood. The brotherhood that once seemed unbreakable proves vulnerable to the complex moral choices of adulthood. The past-"then"-can never be recovered once we've moved into the complicated present of "now." This bittersweet recognition is the price of growth, the inevitable cost of moving from childhood into the morally ambiguous world of adults.
In this unflinching portrait of adolescent friendship tested by change, Hinton captures the universal experience of growing apart from those we once couldn't imagine living without-not through any single dramatic event, but through the gradual, inexorable process of becoming different people with different values and priorities. The tragedy lies not in any character being entirely right or wrong, but in the impossibility of preserving relationships that were formed in one phase of life as we move inevitably into another.
