Frankie Graves may look like an ordinary greaser teenager, but anyone close to him will tell you that something’s not right about him. Maybe it’s the unsettling, faraway look in his eyes. Maybe it’s the way he obsessively flicks his deadly sharp switchblade open over and over. Or maybe it’s because all his greaser friends feel like he’s a ticking time bomb waiting for the day when he’ll explode in a frenzy of violence and mayhem.
That day turns out to be the Fourth of July, 1958, and the people of Hartfield won’t know he’s coming for them until it’s too late.