Now I really wish I brought the book with me. I needed to know exactly what is supposed to happen, and how it happens. I don't want to change the story too much, so I have to know what not to do. I haven't read the book in years, so I was a little rusty on the exact events of the novel.

I almost felt like a psychic. I was planning on living through the events of the book, while doing the least amount of damage as possible. I'm just really scared of screwing up the space-time continuum. There are many movies that prove that is a very bad thing.

Every chance I got, I always went back to the field and tried to find little parts from the Time Machine that fell off. When I collected them, I put them back in the car and tinkered with them, trying to get them to fit and work. I'm still missing a lot of parts so it hasn't worked yet. I need a metal detector or something.

Since I've been here for a few months, I was starting to get a little homesick. The culture shock was greater than I was expecting. As a way to make myself feel more at home, I made the room that Soda gave me feel more like my room. I found a cheap full length mirror I put up against the wall, and I got myself new white bedsheets with a white comforter. My pillows have a feminine floral print, and I got a lamp for the bedside table and another in the corner of the room. I put up some photos and posters that Soda had lying around, and some that I have collected over the past few months of bands and singers or actors I liked. I put down a nice shag rug over the old carpet, which was now littered with magazines of Vogue with photos and articles of Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton, and Sharon Tate, a record player, and some records.

Soda actually taught me how to use the record player. I mean, I never had one back home so it was new to me. He was walking past my room and heard the screech when I was trying to put the needle on the vinyl I got at the record store earlier that day. It was Meet the Beatles! by The Beatles. Soda chuckled a little and teased me about it lovingly, and sweetly said, "I get it, this technology junk can be a real headache." I smiled at him as he got down on the floor beside me and taught me how to put the needle on the spinning record.

I keep going to little stores in town and finding cute little knickknacks, so Darry helped me with putting up shelves in my room for them. I have a few colorful throw blankets to bring some color into the room, and I use Soda's old school desk as a vanity, where I keep my makeup, skin care, a small mirror, and perfume.

Skin care here in the 60s is not nearly as complex as it is in my time. Moisturizer doesn't even exist. I went scavenging up and down the isles of different stores just trying to find something that would help my dry skin, and that's when I found out that face cream was the closest I was going to find. I tried Nivea, but it made my face sting. Dove Beauty Bar is apparently the best thing to cleanse skin, and I cannot find any sunscreen that would actually block out the sun rays. A friend from school recommended Pond's Cold Cream at night, and Albolene cleanser to take off makeup. Don't get me started on deodorant, it is not used nearly as much as it should. I started getting Sno-Mist, and it smells like roses. My skin tends to get really dry so I use Palmer's Coco Butter Cream for my arms and legs, which is perfect because I used this a lot back in my time. And of course, Vaseline. I always love finding products that I actually recognize and I have used it before.

Finding makeup too has been a pain. There really aren't very many options, so I have just been using a cream Angel Face foundation that comes in a Tiffany blue packaging, a shade of blush from Revlon called Clear Red, powder, mascara and lipstick. I put the rouge up on the high points of my cheeks, because no one has bronzer or even highlight yet. I have to put everything on with my hand, brushes and sponges are practically nonexistent. For powder, I use a translucent one from Airspun, only because I recognized the orange package. I have definitely seen this at the store in my time. The best mascara I could find was from Maybelline. It comes in a small, red plastic case with a sliding lid. Inside is a tray of hard black cake mascara and a small brush with one row of black bristles. Some people spit on the brush, but I just use tap water to activate the mascara. I used a spoon to curl my lashes before I could get my hands on an eyelash curler, and I have been using a brown eyebrow pencil to line my eyes, either with a subtle thin wing or using my finger to smudge it out. Most of the greaser girls wear a thick black cat eye wing, but I didn't really like the way it looked with my downturned eye shape. My eyebrows are already dark and thick, so I don't fill them in but a lot of girls at school will have high arches from filling in their brows. I got the Revlon Fire and Ice lipstick, I think it's cool because it comes in a gold toned metal tube, in the bullet style. A lot of girls will wear it thickly, but that's not really my style. I just rub a little lipstick on my finger and I dab it on my lips for a more natural flush. I'm more of a natural makeup girly, which greatly differs from the actual greaser girls in town. Their style reminds me of Amy Winehouse.

Johnny met Ponyboy and I at the Curtis house. I slipped on some baggy jeans with some dirty black converse, a black t-shirt, and threw on a cream cable-knit sweater that I stole from Soda. I honestly didn't even know he owned a sweater until the days started getting colder and he started wearing it more. He told me that his mom knitted this for him herself about a year before she died. He loves it. Darry got a forest green one, and Ponyboy got a navy blue one. Soda let me borrow his sweater a couple weeks ago when I forgot to bring a jacket to a chilly night at the Nightly Double. I've been waiting to wash it before I give it back to him, so I'll wear it one last time and give it back to him tomorrow after I do my laundry.

I didn't mean to wear Soda's sweater tonight. One of the only jackets I own got stained with pizza sauce when I went out to lunch with Two-Bit a few days ago, so I need to wash it. The sweater was the first thing I grabbed, and Ponyboy was already on my ass about leaving for the movie. I was heading out the door to catch up with the guys, slipping Soda's cable-knit sweater over my black t-shirt. The soft sweater still smells of his sweet Old Spice cologne.

At school I think I tend to dress as a Soc since girls are required to swear skirts and dresses. Greaser girl outfits are tight. I've got a black pinafore dress that I usually wear with square-toe wine ballet flats; a cream sweater with a matching skirt; and a light blue peacoat where my skirts hang just before the hem. A lot of girls, when they're out around town and not at school, will wear petal-pushers, or what I would call Capri pants. I do not think they're flattering on me so I have avoided them. But at home, I like to dress as one of the guys with frumpy jeans and oversized shirts or pull-over sweaters. I once kept my nicer school clothes on for one day and they wouldn't stop teasing me about it. They said I looked like a Soc, or would ask if I was meeting the president later. Then, I wore my more relaxed greaser style clothes to school one day and got dress coded with every class. I can't win.

"Hurry up, Bri. We are gonna be late," Ponyboy shouted. They were a lot farther ahead of me than I thought. We didn't take my car because I didn't have enough gas and I didn't want to get any tonight.

I ended up returning the rental car and bought an actual car. I have loved working with Soda at the DX. It's been fun, I get to spend more time with him and I get paid for it.

I jogged to catch up with them. Dally met us on a street corner under a dim street light, right outside a diner. It was still pretty early so the sun was still out. I could hear an Elvis song playing from the diner.

I thought, I could live without romance,
U-u-until you came to me,
But now I know that,
I will go on,
Loving you eternally.

"What took y'all so long?" Dally asked. He was smoking a cigarette and blew the smoke into the crisp air.

"Little-miss-slow-poke here was doing her hair," Ponyboy snitched.

"Um, no," I said sarcastically. I ran my fingers through my slightly tousled hair to mess it up a little more to subconsciously prove that I didn't care how my hair looked. "I was putting on my shoes."

Won't you please be my own?
Never leave me alone,
'Cause I die ev'ry time,
We're apart.

I want you, I need you, I-I love you,
With all my heart

"Relax, kid." Dally blew smoke in Ponyboys face, causing him to cough. "We gotta go."

We made our way to The Nightly Double, passing a drugstore. It's one of those stores with the soda fountains inside where soda jerks make all kinds of sodas, floats, milkshakes, lemonades, malts, sundaes, and even banana splits. We don't have anything like this in 2017, but I love them. They're so cute and the desserts are amazing. It's just a slice of everyday life that felt so different from my own time.

"If y'all would have been on time, I woulda suggested that we go in there to get Cokes." Dally nodded toward the drugstore as he continued to strut down the sidewalk with an effortless swagger. I swear, Dally doesn't walk. He struts with a little bounce.

"Get or steal?" I joked.

"What do you think, darlin'?" Dally winked and flashed his crooked smile.

I blushed softly and chuckled while shaking my head. For the past few months I've gotten along pretty well with Dally, I can read him like a book despite him being unpredictable. In fact, I wasn't expecting us to become friends at all. I had a preconceived notion that he was an asshole, so I tried to stay away from him but soon realized that it was impossible.

We kept walking until we passed The Dingo. I didn't really care for it, but it was one of Dally's favorite places. He's dragged me in there a few times after I went that one time with Soda. It's just a popular hangout for greasers, and it's a rough spot. Pony told me that a girl got shot there once. We kept him distracted so he wouldn't look at it and change his mind on the kind of night we were going to have.

We cut behind a discount store called Spencer's Special and the guys chased two middle school kids across a field. I ran after the boys so I didn't get left behind. When they finally slowed down, it was pretty dark. Dally said that it's dark enough to sneak in.

"I have enough money for us," I stated, I took out my wallet and palmed a few quarters.

"You can do that if you want, doll. The rest of us are gonna go in the faster way. We'll be sure to save you a seat." Dally flicked his cigarette to the ground that landed by my feet and he came up close to step on it. Both of us lifted our heads at the same time, just inches away from each other. He let the smoke escape from between his lips as he smirked at me. His electric blue eyes that were always cold as ice seemed to soften just a bit when his eyes were locked to mine.

"Fine. We will do it your way," I agreed hesitantly. I broke our eye contact and headed to the fence.

Dally is a hound dog. He might be trying to snoop around my door, but I can see through that. Dally is clever, but I'm a little too savvy for him to be able to use his typical ruse on me. Besides, he's not my type.

I have seen Dally whistle at girls from across the street, cat-call nearly every girl he saw, and even make lewd comments about their appearance when they didn't accept his advances. Ponyboy one time tried to harass a girl just like Dally, and Soda smacked him upside the head for it. Two was flipping girls skirts, Steve used to pinch girls butts as they walk past, and he even went as far as unclasping their bra at an impressive speed. Even Johnny did some catcalling, but only when he was around Dally. I definitely expressed my anger toward the terrible habit of theirs, and at first they brushed me off and said that I couldn't take a joke. But it wasn't until some guy grabbed my ass while we were all walking down the street just before summer started, and all the guys immediately jumped him and they had a big fight in the middle of the street. I haven't seen them harass anyone since. Soda and Darry were really the only members of the gang who I never saw harass a girl.

"I dig it. Need a lift?"

"Sure," I blurted.

The chain link fence is pretty high. It is a pain in the ass to climb, so Dally stood beside me and he placed his hands on my waist. My breath caught in my throat while I gripped the fence tightly, making the metal rattle together.

"You ready?" Dally asked by my ear.

"I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

His grip on my waist got tighter just before he threw me up as hard as he could. Whenever he helps me over the fence, he literally tosses me clear over the fence. I never have a chance to situate myself on top so I can just easily climb down to the ground. The fence is taller than Dally, so I free-fell to the ground and make sure I landed on my feet. My knees will never get used to that drop.

Dally hopped the fence and waited beside me as we watched Pony and Johnny make their way over the tall fence. Dally's leg was shaking impatiently, and then he looked at me and asked, "what movies are they playin' here tonight again?"

"The Frankie Avalon beach ones."

"What are they called?"

"No idea."

His blonde eyebrows scrunched over his eyes. "You don't know but you wanted to go to the picture anyway?"

"Yeah, I like the drive-in. I had never been to one before this."

"Boy howdy, I keep forgettin' you ain't from around here. You didn't wanna go to The Dingo tonight?"

"I never wanna go to The Dingo," I chuckled. Once Pony and Johnny were over the fence, Dally started walking to the section of the drive-in with provided seating that's in front of the concession stands.

"Never? Boy, oh, boy, you've broke me, Brianna."

I laughed at his dramatics. "It's scary in there."

"Nah, you don't gotta worry about it. I ain't never gonna let nothin' happen to ya in there. Listen, next time let's you and me take your car here. Since you ain't done it before."

"And watch the movie from my car?"

"Yeah, why not."

I smiled softly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Dally nodded. A hopeless boy who flashed me his reckless grin, which showed off his high cheekbones. Dally walked down to the front of the seating while me, Pony, and Johnny followed. Nobody else was down there except two girls in the very front. Dally led us to the row right behind them

"Did you see the way Dally looked at them? I think he is going to mess them 'em," Pony whispered to me.

"Huh, didn't notice," I whispered back. I thought a little bit, and understood what he was talking about. "We should probably stop him before he goes too far."

"Are you kidding? I'll get slapped."

We shimmed through the chairs and we sat directly behind the two girls. I saw them squirm in their seats a bit, which made Dally's face brighten.

Dally started talking very loudly. People a mile away could hear his dirty talk. I saw Ponyboy's ears get red when Dally started talking dirtier. Johnny immediately got up to go to the concession stand. Ponyboy just sat there and tried not to pay attention, I tried not to either. It was hard though, he was nearly shouting swear words and horrible phrases. Bad enough that my grandma would faint if she ever heard me talking like that. The two girls looked uncomfortable. They were shifting in their seats and pretended not to hear Dally. He put a cigarette between his lips and struck a match to light it.

One had short dark hair, and the other had red hair. I believe that their names are Marcia and Cherry, or Sherri... something like that. I remember that Marcia was pretty funny and got along well with Two-Bit, and the other was dating Bob Sheldon. Dally got pissed that they weren't responding to him, and put his feet on the back of Sherri's seat. He turned to wink at us, and shouted one more nasty thing that topped off everything else he said.

Sherri snapped and turned around. "Take your feet off my chair and shut your trap."

"Who's gonna make me?" Dally kept his feet on her chair.

"That's the greaser that jockeys for the Slash J sometimes," Marcia said slightly softly, but loud enough for us all to hear. Ponyboy looked annoyed.

"I know you two. I've seen you around rodeos," Dally pointed out.

Now it was my turn for my face to get red. I recognized these lines from the book. I really didn't want to interfere, I was planning on keeping my distance and letting the plot play its course.

"It's a shame you can't ride bull half as good as you can talk it," Sherri replied coldly, trying to sound intimidating.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, good one!" I thought sarcastically.

"You two barrel race, huh?" Dally asked.

"You'd better leave us alone or I'll call the cops," Sherri warned.

"Oh, my, my. You've got me scared to death." Dally acted like he was bored. "You ought to see my record sometime, baby." He grinned slyly and winked. "Guess what I've been in for?"

"Please leave us alone," Sherri nearly yelled. "Please, be nice and leave us alone."

"I'm never nice. Want a Coke?"

Ponyboy and I just sat there. Ponyboy looked flushed and embarrassed. We didn't really know what to do. All I knew was that he was going to be drenched in Coke pretty soon.

"I wouldn't drink it if I was starving in the desert. Get lost hood!"

Dally shrugged and went off toward the snack bar.

"Coke would dehydrate her more than anything," Pony whispered to me.

"What was that?" She spun around to face us.

Pony's eyes were wide and his lips quivered slightly. I finally spoke up so he didn't have to, "we weren't talking to you."

"Yes, you were. I heard you."

"It is none of your business."

"It is if it concerns me."

"Not everything is about you."

"I know you were talking about me."

"Fine. I said that Coke would dehydrate you even more if you were in the desert. Plus, you wouldn't be starving, you'd be parched."

"And you are?" Sherri looked toward me and glared. What was her problem?

Before I could say anything snarky back, Marcia leaned over to her and said in a loud whisper, "she's that new girl that came in the spring."

"Shut up," Sherri hissed back at her. I had to suppress my chuckle.

"She wore that one skirt to school, then we went out and you got the same one. Remember?"

"Shut up, Marcia," Sherri spat through her clenched teeth.

Marcia slumped back into her chair, and looked down at her hands while Sherri cleared her throat. She was probably hoping and begging that I didn't hear that, but I heard every word. This is so awkward for her.

"Oh, so you have heard of me," I stated immodestly. I grinned cunningly. I just wanted to watch her little world burn, just a little bit.

"I'm Sherri, but people all call me Cherry because of my red hair. I am a cheerleader at Will Rogers. How have you not heard of me? Do you live under a rock or something?"

I was a cheerleader my sophomore and junior year at Will Rogers, just because I needed an extracurricular to put on my transcripts, but I will never tell that to anyone in the gang. They would totally drag me for it. So I think I can confidently say that no one cares if she is a cheerleader. I shrugged and said, "maybe it's because I don't care who you are."

While Sherri's face was warping into an expression of offended disgust, Marcia was clearly trying not to laugh which made Sherri even angrier. I stood up and quickly went off and followed Dally.

"Are you going to start in on us?" I heard her say to Ponyboy just as I was leaving. I didn't look back, and I caught up to Dally.

"Are you going to get her a Coke?" I asked him.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He asked. He took a few coins out of his leather jacket.

"Just a hunch," I lied. I looked away for a split second to compose myself after smiling. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why not? It'll just push her buttons." He cackled and we stepped into line.

"That's the problem. I bet she will throw it in your face... or something." I tried to be nonchalant, but also warning him. I guess it's not a big deal, but it still sucks to have to take off a Coke soaked shirt. I admired and respected Dally enough to save him from these little things.

"Why you so skeptical?" He laughed and the line for the concession stand got shorter.

"Just trying to watch out for you." I cleared my throat. "That's all."

Dally's head is as hard as rocks. He's stubborn, and once he sets his mind to something there is nothing that can change it. Not even me. He just doesn't care.

"What can I get ya?" A peppy teenage kid smiled at me and Dally when we got to the counter.

"Two Cokes— wait." Dally turned to me. "You want one?"

"Yeah, sure." I reached to my pocket to grab my money, and I guess I do this a lot when someone is going to buy something for me because he caught my hand with his to stop me.

"Three Cokes." He handed the girl his money and released my hand. She came back with an armful of sodas. Dally took two and I took one.

"I will pay you back," I said.

"Nah, don't worry about it." He waved it off.

We got back to the row and Johnny was back with his own soda. I didn't see him but we must have crossed paths. I sat next to Johnny and Dally went down to the next row to sit next to Sherri.

"This might cool you off," he said after handing each girl their soda.

Sherri tossed the lid to the ground and threw the Coke in his face. "That might cool you off, Greaser. After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off too."

"Oh, shit," I mumbled after my gasp. I covered my mouth with my hand, and made eye contact with Pony. He shot a fearful look at me with his eyes, then we both looked back at the car wreck that was unfolding before us.

Dally wiped the Coke off of his face and spit out whatever got past his lips. He flashed an evil smile that showcased his sharp teeth. Then it turned to confusion. Dally looked at me puzzled and I looked away, taking a sip of my soda and running my fingers through my hair. He must have wondered why I knew Sherri was going to throw her Coke in his face. When I looked back, he was trying to put his arm around her. "Fiery, huh? Well, that's the way I like 'em."

Johnny stopped Dally's arm from wrapping around Sherri.

"Leave her alone Dally," Johnny spoke up.

"Huh?" Dally asked. We were all surprised. Johnny rarely talked to anyone anymore. Especially doing something as brave as standing up to Dally.

"You heard me, leave her alone," Johnny repeated. That took major guts. I would not even do that. Ponyboy just sat there with his mouth agape. Dally just stormed off, with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.

Johnny and Ponyboy seemed rather smitten by the girls. I don't know why. I remember during the summer we went to a rodeo and Ponyboy pointed Cherry out to us before her race, he has probably liked her since then. I think Two-Bit was going to be coming by soon, so I didn't really feel like staying. I shot up and ran after Dally. I could hear the ice in my soda cup sloshing around with each stride.

It was probably a bad idea, because Dally needed to cool off. But I didn't care, he has always been kinda fond of me. He has never yelled or gotten mad at me before. I really didn't think Dally would be too bad toward me, but I didn't want to push it.

"Bri!" I heard. I stopped and looked over to where I heard my name. The soft wind was blowing my dark hair in front of my face, so I ran my fingers through it to push it back. It was Two-Bit. He had a big grin on his face, and a beer bottle in his hand that he tried to mask with a crinkled up brown paper bag. I'm not quite sure who he thought he was fooling. He ran over to me, stumbling over his own feet. "How're you doing, darling?"

"Hey, I didn't think you were coming tonight."

"I am. I did. I'm'ere," he replied and took a swig of his drink.

I laughed, "okay."

"D'you want some popcorn? Or some candy? They got Milk Duds, red licorice twists, those chocolate covered peanuts, M&Ms... whatever you want. I'm buying."

Two-Bit is a kleptomaniac. He is really sweet and enjoys paying stuff for us, because he saves money from being a kleptomaniac.

"That's okay, thanks though."

"Where's the gang?" He asked, glancing around. He is always friendly, outgoing, and enthusiastic but even more so when he drinks.

"Over there." I gestured over to the front of the seats. "It's just Pony and Johnny."

Two came up behind me and put both of his hands on my shoulders. He dipped his head down beside mine, I could smell the beer on his breath, and the bottle was resting against my shoulder with its neck between Two's fingers. He asked again, "where? Sorry, I'm a little soused."

I chuckled and pointed over to where Ponyboy and Johnny were sitting, and I noticed that they were still talking to the girls. "Right over there, do you see them?"

It took a moment but Two finally saw them and he stood up straight and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He asked, "you coming?"

"I was just over there, I think I'm going to head home," I told him.

"Why?" He asked. "I just got here!"

I smiled softly and promised, "I'll come back again soon with you. Okay?"

Two smiled and giggled. "Oh, Brianna. You dog."

Two then grabbed my hand and spun me out of his arms. He gave me a drunken bow, and staggered off to go annoy Ponyboy and Johnny.

Now that Two was heading off on his own quest, I went back to running after Dally. By the time I almost caught up to him, he was already on the other side of the parking lot.

"Hey, Dally!" I called out as I tossed my half-finished soda in the garbage. He slowed down but didn't turn around. His hands were still in his pockets and a new cigarette was dangling in between his lips.

"How'd you know?" He asked when I got up to him, looking down at the ground.

"How did I know what?" I mimicked him by trying to shove my hands in the pockets of Soda's sweater. Come to find it doesn't have pockets, I crossed my arms instead.

"That Sherri was gonna throw that Coke in my face. You know her or somethin'?"

"Nope. Never met her before in my life. Just a hunch."

"Some sort of mind reader, are ya?"

"Nope."

"I should've listened to you, she did not have the hots for me," he chuckled.

"You liked her?" I asked, kinda stunned.

"Not really. Just fun to mess with stuck-up bitches." He kicked a pebble. "It sucks when they fight back."

"Yeah, it is kinda fun." I smiled softly. "So, you and Sylvia are done for good, huh?"

"Yup. I'm not goin' to be taking any more of her shit." He struck a light to his cigarette and offered me one. I kindly refused. "I've known you for a few months now, and not once have I ever seen you take a weed." He threw the empty cigarette pack on the ground.

"Never been a smoker. My parents don't smoke either." I tried my best to never talk about my parents because I didn't want to be questioned why I wasn't with them. My real parents are amazing. They are the kindest, and funniest people I've ever met. I get along with them so well. Everyone who meets them says that they want them to be their parents. It was really hard to even lie, saying my parents are neglectful. I tried to ignore it as much as possible.

I missed my parents so much. I really wanted to go back home.

"And its bad for your health," I added.

"It's bad for your heath," he mocked in a high pitched voice. "Y'know, no one 'round here gives a fuck if it's bad for your health." He carefully held the cigarette between his fingers so it wasn't too stiff, but also not too loose. He always holds his smokes in his left hand. He has had practice. "You don't drink either, do ya?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"It's disgusting." I made a face which made Dally laugh.

"I guess everyone's got a preference. But I like it. I like the way it makes me feel. I get to do whatever I want and nothin' really matters. It makes me numb and I don't care about nothing. Everythin' kinda just goes away. It quiets my thoughts. When I was a kid, my folks gave me whiskey to get to me to go to sleep... maybe it comes from that. I don't know. Everybody has their vices, life is bleak and everyday existence is so fucking depressing." He flicked some ashes onto the ground.

Our lighthearted conversation made a rather depressing turn. What do I say to that? I could try to reason with him but he wouldn't listen to me. Or he would but just wouldn't care. Dally does drink a lot. He blacks out a lot. He drinks so much that he needs someone to take care of him so he doesn't hurt himself or others, and that person usually ends up being me. He self-medicates because he needs an escape. He's pretty messed up. Before me, I don't know how he survived up to this point. He has passed out drunk on train tracks before. I know that because one morning he came stumbling into the Curtis house with a hangover while I was trying to watch TV and he told me.

"Wanna go to the drugstore? I'm really feeling like a candy bar right now." I let my arms relax down by my sides.

"I'm feeling one too," he agreed.

We took a shortcut through some backyards to get to the drugstore. It was a pretty sketchy place at night. Dally made me feel much safer than if I was alone. He was scarier than anything or anyone we were going to cross paths with. Trouble is his middle name. I am certain that he has at least three weapons on him at all times. Sometimes his jeans will come up enough that I can see the bottom of a hunting knife he has strapped to his ankle, but I have never seen him reach for it before.

We went into the drug store and it was flooding with fluorescent light, it made my eyes burn. There was only the guy at the counter, and us. We went to the candy aisle and I grabbed some butterscotch candies and a chocolate bar. The candy packaging is different here than back home. Chocolate bars here are only a nickel and some candy's are called penny candy, which are Tootsie Rolls, Caramel Creams, Mary Jane's, Bit o Honey, candy cigarettes, Smarties, saltwater taffy, and Nacco Wafers.

Dally grabbed a chocolate bar with the crisped rice, a package of peppermint gum, he shoved some beer cans in his massive pockets, and I distracted the store clerk coyly while he stole two packs of Kools from behind the counter and hid them all under his jacket.

"What are you doing?" I let out a breathy giggle and he grabbed my candies and shoved them under the jacket too. Dally stood perfectly poised, it didn't look like a single thing was under his loose brown suede leather jacket.

"Shh." He put his finger to his lips and he strolled out, suspiciously whistling. The guy at the counter didn't even notice us leaving. When we left, Dally gave me my share of the candies and I tore them open. I was starving.

"I don't think I've ever actually been with the famous Dallas Winston while stealing," I announced while sucking on a butterscotch candy.

"Really? This was your first time?" He seemed surprised.

"Usually I just wait outside until you are all done." I shrugged. Honestly, I'm just a little afraid of getting arrested and never being able to go back home. "Don't need that on my record."

"Lame." He swallowed most of his candy bar in one bite.

"Hey, at least I did it tonight!" I giggled. Even though I really didn't do anything. All I did was stand there and look pretty.

"I grabbed you this." He handed me a glass bottle of Coke. I didn't even see him take it. He is really good at stealing.

"Wow, thanks," I said in my surprise. I took the bottle and wrapped my hand around the lid, expecting it to twist off easily. The metal rim was digging into my palm, making me grimace while shaking my throbbing hand out.

"Give it to me, let me do it." Dally took the bottle from my hand and used his Swiss Army knife to pop the top. He silently handed it back to me, along with the bottle cap. "Here, Two's gonna want this."

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks," I said. I slipped the bottle cap in my jean pocket, making sure the ridges weren't pressing against my skin. Two likes to collect bottle caps from beer bottles and soda bottles so we always keep them for him.

I took a gulp of the cold beverage, actively trying not to choke on the butterscotch I had hidden in my cheek.

"Can I have one, honey?" He asked smoothly, holding his hand out.

"Yeah." I plopped one of the candies in his palm.

"Thanks, darling," he said as he used his teeth to twist the cellophane off the candy and stuck it between his lips.

I finished my soda and we just so happened to pass a garbage can that was on the sidewalk. I stuck the bottle in it so I didn't have to carry it all the way home. Dally probably would have thrown it as hard as he could against a tree trunk and let the glass explode everywhere.

We walked past a playground park, with tall horizontally placed logs to keep the wood chips and rocks in the park. I jumped up into the tall log and walked on it like a balance beam. I kept my arms by my sides to keep my balance in order on the slippery wood with the rounded top. Dally took my hand, claiming it was because he didn't want me to fall.

"What time did you say you have to be back at the Curtis's house?" He asked. He squeezed my hand gently, which made me squeeze it back. His thumb gently rubbed against the back of my hand, I don't even know if Dally knew he was doing that.

"I think Darry told Ponyboy midnight. Since he isn't my brother, I'm sure I can be out later."

"We better stick with midnight. He really cares about you, kid," Dally said. I didn't really like when the gang members called me kid. Sure I'm the newest, but I'm technically older than Soda and they don't call him kid.

Dally ate the rest of his candy bar and tossed the wrapper on the street.

"Yeah. It scares me when Darry's mad. I don't want to disappoint him." I broke up the butterscotch candy that was in my mouth with my teeth.

"Yeah." Dally blew rings of smoke into the air.

"You agree?" I was caught a little off guard. I thought he was going to call me a wimp or something. "Big, mean, I-can-do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want, Dallas Winston? You think Darry is scary?"

"You haven't known him as long as I have. He wasn't always like this. All controlling and angry. He used to be real fun back when his folks were still around. He used to get along real fine with Pony, and he'd bring me along to his college parties and we'd just get hammered together. When they died, he had to give up everything and he grew up far too fast, ditching the Fun Darry we all used to know." He flicked more ashes onto the ground.

"How did you become a part of their gang?" I asked.

"I met Steve in school, and he introduced me to the Curtis's. Their mama was real sweet to me and would make me come over for dinner a lot. I never left, I guess."

"Are you friends with Tim?"

"Shepard? Yeah."

"How come you don't go around with that gang?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, they're a lot tougher. And more violent. I'm just wondering how you got with our guys."

He thought for a second then said, "I don't know. Guess it's because I felt... god, I don't know, man."

"You felt like you belonged?" I didn't want to speak for him, but I had a feeling this was what he wanted to say.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that," he said in a low voice.

The Curtis gang is definitely a tight-knit group. They're closer than any other gang I've met in Tulsa. They may not be the most violent or the best gang out there, but they are definitely the only one that actually feels like they're all a big family. Maybe that's why Dally was here, this gang feels more like a family and Dally needed that.

I stepped on a slick part of the log and my foot slipped. I was able to catch myself and avoid falling from the log but it made Dally grip my hand tighter and freeze in his footsteps. "Will you get the fuck off of there? Fuck, Bri. You're gonna break your ankle."

"I'm not gonna break my ankle," I said as I continued walking with one foot in front of the other. My thumb brushed an indent on Dally's knuckles so I stopped walking for a moment to bring his hand up to my face. He was confused until I kept walking and asked, "what's that?"

He took a glance at his own hand and a smirk pulled at his pale lips. "Teeth marks. After beating guys up in rumbles, them teeth marks will scar. Been there for God knows how long."

I couldn't believe that Dally had scars on his knuckles left from how hard he punches people. I could imagine after rumbles he has to pluck teeth out from his hand and flick them to the ground, creating jagged cuts in his pale skin.

"Ouch," I shuddered. I had also noticed a small skull tattooed on his hand, between his thumb and index finger. I think he got it last time he went to jail.

"What? Does that scare you, little lady?" He asked jokingly.

"It unnerves me," I replied honestly.

"You ain't never seen trouble like me, huh?"

A small smile crept on my face and I said playfully, "maybe. But I'm not fully convinced yet."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll have to try a little harder."

The park ended so I jumped off the large log that I was walking on and nearly missed jumping into a pothole. We heard a crack.

"What the fuck was that?" He chuckled but continued to squeeze my hand.

"My achilles. I think. Or it was my ankle." I scrunched my face from the little burst of pain. I stood on my good foot and wiggled the one that cracked to get the blood pumping again. Dally was still holding my hand, and he stepped closer to me.

"I told you that you were going to break your ankle."

"I didn't break it."

"It sounded gross," he said, scrunching his face in disgust.

"I'm sure you've heard worse. Even I have heard worse."

"Not coming from you."

"Have you ever broken a bone?" My ankle wasn't broken, but it was a nasty crack. In just a couple seconds I felt good as new. I'm sure it would have broke if I landed in that pothole.

"I broke my nose in a fight before. Well, a few times. What about you?" He asked. We continued to walk home and my ankle felt sore, but not in pain.

"I broke my knee because a kid kicked it while we were playing soccer."

"Ah." He didn't seem that impressed. He grabbed one of the beer cans from his pocket and pulled the tab off. He started to chug it.

"Another time, when I was a toddler, my family was playing who's game called Crack the Whip. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Nah."

"Well, it's a game where everyone goes outside and holds hands. One person on one end is the head of the whip and everyone else is part of the tail. The head of the whip starts to run in all sorts of directions. Everyone else on the tail has to follow them. It's really hard because hands can slip, and there is falling." I explained the game. "I was the last one on the tail and my dad was the one who was running around. I flung off and landed right on my collar bone."

"You broke your collar bone?" That seemed to impress him a little more. I bet that he'd be more intrigued if I broke something in a fight, like he did.

"Yessiree."

"Shit." He nodded slightly, as if approving. He finished his beer and crunched the can in his strong hand, then he tossed it in the nearby grass. He litters a lot.

"It's so dark," I observed. I wanted to change the subject a bit because I didn't have any more good material.

"That is what happens when the sun goes down," he joked as he grabbed the second beer. He immediately pulled the tab off and started drinking it. He constantly switched between his beer and his cigarette. It got pretty cold here at night now that it was fall. I was glad I wore Soda's thick and warm sweater tonight, but it almost wasn't enough.

I fake laughed and I playfully nudged his shoulder with mine. He is fun to hangout with, he doesn't seem very scary and intense if you get to know him and really spend time with him. He's still not a very good person though, he's still an asshole. I don't think that Ponyboy ever really tried that hard to get to know Dally. In the book, it always seemed like Ponyboy was scared of him. Maybe it's because of their age difference. I'm sure I was intimidated by older teenagers when I was his age too.

"You cold?" He asked.

"A little," I said honestly with a disinterested shrug.

Dally stuck the cigarette between his teeth and he shook off his leather jacket. He didn't ask before he put it on my shoulders.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to do that," I said even though the warmth of his jacket was very inviting. It wasn't sticky or wet from the Coke that was dumped on him, but his damp shirt was still clinging to his strong chest.

"It's okay, I was gettin' toasty in it anyway," he reasoned. His usual expression seems to melt away because he was no longer putting up a bad-boy façade in front of me. It was almost like he could be himself around me.

His jacket smells like tobacco. My nose twitched, but it wasn't nauseatingly strong. He smells like a cozy cigar lounge. It overpowered the scent of Old Spice that lingered on the sweater. Everyone in the gang can tell the difference between different brands of cigarettes just by their taste or their smell, but I can't. They all smell the same to me. They all have their favorites, and Dally likes Kools and Winstons.

I smiled softly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"You're not from Tulsa, right?" I asked as we kept walking.

"Nup." He finished this beer too, and kept with the ritual of crushing the can in his strong hands and throwing it in someone's lawn.

"Where are you from?"

"New York."

"Where in New York?" I asked curiously.

"West side."

"Rough neighborhood?"

Dally chuckled and said, "oh, honey, you wouldn't last a day over there." He spit into the palm of his hand and put his cigarette out that way. He tossed it and grabbed another one from his new carton. He lit it, and twisted the cigarette around his fingers before he stuck it in his mouth. "Man, if cigarettes keep going up in price, I'm going to quit. A quarter a pack is ridiculous."

I chuckled and asked, "you stole those, right?"

He hid his smirk. "Yeah, whatever."

"How'd you get from New York to here?" I asked curiously.

"Well, I was born up in New York but we moved down here to Oklahoma when I was a kid. When my folks got divorced, my old man made me live with my mom. He didn't want me, and neither did she 'cause she just wanted me outta her hair. She even put me in reform school, but it didn't do much good," he recalled with a chuckle. "She never wanted me, so I was just another hungry mouth to feed."

"Oh, damn," I said softly to let him continue his story. I could imagine Dally as a young and innocent kid, just playing in the streets with a runny nose with the cold wind blowing while he had to live with knowing that he wasn't wanted by either of his parents. That can really mess someone up.

That little kid will grow up with hatred in his heart. Hatred toward the world, and toward himself. He is fighting the world alone. I could see that same little boy finishing his story with an unloaded gun in his hand, and face down in the middle of the street.

He was just a baby... he was somebody's baby...

"I roamed the streets where I learned how to steal and how to fight. I got arrested when I was ten, and I met some kid who called himself Cowboy. He ran one of the toughest gangs on the streets, and he caught a liking to me. We got out around the same time and we sure did have a blast."

"You probably saw and did way too much for a kid your age," I told him, imagining my younger teenage sister now doing the things that Dally did. I couldn't imagine.

Dally shrugged and said, "made me tough. Anyways, I spent about three years up there 'fore my mom had enough and sent me back to my old man. She thought if I were in a smaller town, it would keep me outta trouble. I was too wild for my dad to tame and we never got along good. He would put his cigarettes out on me and he'd holler and scream, so I ran away. Now I run the streets of Tulsa."

It wasn't until after I heard his story, I realized just how everyone in his life had failed him. His father failed him. His mother failed him. His teachers failed him. He was never given the sympathy that he desperately deserved, and all he knew was violence. He deserved to have someone look after him the way he looks after Johnny. All he needed was someone to love and care for him, otherwise he probably wouldn't have grown into the angry young man he is today.

Dally had already told me that he dropped out of school when he was in the sixth grade. He would put tacks on teachers chairs, skip class or show up to school drunk, he would slam heads and hands with locker doors, pee in lockers, and even would bring his blades to school. I think what finally got him expelled was he spiked the punch at some middle school dance and then threatened another kid with his switchblade.

Dally is smart. Certainly street smart. I don't think I would have guessed that he dropped out in middle school. He would have done great if he just applied himself. He is just too cool for school, I suppose.

"Is your dad still around?"

He let out his puff of smoke. "Last I heard he went back up to New York."

I said softly, "you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry it happened."

He cleared his throat and said, "eh, what are ya gonna do? I didn't get no say in it."

Dally bottles up his emotions because he thinks he has to be the tough one. When we talk, he lets out a little bit at a time, like steam escaping from a kettle. I can only hope it's enough before the kettle someday inevitably explodes.

"Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah... now don't go around telling anyone. I don't tell many people."

"I won't, I promise," I promised.

"Swear?"

"I swear."

He stuck out his pinky at me. I chuckled and hooked my pinky to his, promising him that I'd never tell anyone.

"Good." His finger slipped from mine and he took a puff of his cigarette.

We got to an intersection where I assumed we were going to get separated. I'd take a left to head into the neighborhood where the Curtis's and I live, and Dally would keep going straight and head over to Buck's. My walking slowed as I prepared to wish Dally a good-night, but he crossed the street and I had to play catch-up. I asked him, "where are you going?"

He looked back at me strangely. "What do you mean?"

"I just thought you were going to Buck's," I said as I walked beside him again.

"I am."

"Isn't his place that way?" I gestured down the road.

"Yeah, but I'm taking you home first. Can't have you walking by your lonesome, especially since it's so late."

"You don't have to do that," I told him. It was probably another twenty minutes of walking for him just to walk me home.

"I'm gonna anyways."

I smiled small. "Thank you."

"Yeah... whatever." His voice was low and he looked down at his feet as he walked. Then he said, "you know, when I was a kid, every dime I got went straight to the jukebox. Ever been to Ike's?"

"Ike's?" I asked.

"Over by Frank's."

"What's Frank's?" I asked.

"A hair place."

"No, I haven't."

"Well, Ike's makes chili and they're pretty damn good if you ever get a chance to head over there. Anyways, they used to have this big jukebox over there and I'd spend hours listening to rock and roll, skipping class but the owner didn't really care as long as I ordered a bowl of chili."

"Where is it?" I asked. I thought I had heard of that restaurant before, but I couldn't tell if I recognized it from the twenty-first century or not.

"Over on Boston."

"I'll have to check it out sometime."

"I can take you, or go with you, if you want," he offered.

I smiled at him warmly. "That would be great, I'd love that."

He grinned sheepishly. "Good."

"Think we would have been friends in school?" I asked curiously.

Dally scoffed and asked, "who said we are friends now?"

I laughed. "I'm serious."

"Well..." he looked at me as he thought long and hard about my question. "I wanna know what you think. Would we?"

"Let's see... you started getting arrested in middle school?"

"Junior high, yeah," he corrected but it's the same thing.

"Then you got expelled?"

"That's right."

"And in that time you were beating up kids and stealing lunch money?" I asked.

He chuckled, "uh-huh."

"Yeah, I don't think we would have been friends."

"No?" He laughed. "What—what are you like in school? Some goody-two-shoes, I'm guessing."

"Yeah, I am a good kid. I am nice, I have great attendance, and I get good grades."

"Oh, you are one of those people," he said sarcastically and laughed. "I think you're right, we wouldn't have been friends."

"Probably not," I chuckled. Then I asked, "so, you've been arrested a lot?"

"Yeah. Them boys downtown pick me up for nothing."

"What would you say is the dumbest thing you got arrested for?" I asked.

He thought for a second, looking up at the stars as if he was picturing all of his arrests. Then I saw a light flicker in his eyes and he said, "I was at the drive-in. I can't remember who I was with, some little honey I met at the Dingo the night before. We were in Buck's Thunderbird, and we both slipped into the backseat where it gets real nice and dark. I was about to make a move on her, but then some cop was shining a bright light in my eye through the window and he screamed at me, 'out the car, long hair!'."

I chuckled and asked, "why did he do that?"

"He made me get out and the bastard drove me downtown to be questioned about some break-in on the West side. I was there for just about three hours before they finally let me go, and let me tell you I was pissed."

"Did you do it?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, but they didn't know that. They had nothing on me but a hunch. Ended up arresting one of them Brumly Boys. He was in the slammer for six months."

We eventually reached the Curtis house and Dally walked with me up to the front door. I wasn't ready for our walk to end just yet.

I took off his jacket and politely gave it back to him. As soon as I took it off I felt the cold wind blowing through the sweater which prickled goosebumps on my skin. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," he said and slipped the jacket back on himself. I didn't realize just how cold he really was until the jacket covered his goosebumps.

"Are you coming inside?" I asked, putting my hand on the door handle.

"Nah." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

I noticed his pale cheeks were red with little spiderwebs just below the surface of the skin. He has a high tolerance for alcohol, but I always know when he's been drinking because his blood vessels open up around his cheeks and nose.

"Oh, okay. Thanks again for walking me home."

"It's nothing," he stated.

"And by the way, I'm glad you're my friend," I told him, referencing our last conversation before we reached the house. It was true, I'm glad that we have become friends. An unlikely duo. "I'll see you later." I turned to put my hand on the handle of the front door again.

"Wait."

"Yeah?" I asked, turning to face him.

Dally looked at me with slow blinks and his jaw moved up and down a bit with no words coming out. It was a few seconds of silence, so I looked at him with a puzzled expression. His eyes were cold with all the hatred in the world, but they softened when he looked at me. Dally finally shook his head and said, "never mind."

"Oh, okay," I said softly. Dally seemed... nervous? I didn't understand why. He never got nervous.

Dally hates the world, and it seems like the world hates him back. He never really tried to find the joy in life. He says he's dead inside so he cuts off everyone, even the gang. Sometimes he will go days or even a few weeks without saying a word then pop back into our lives without acknowledging it. We never know if he up and moved in the middle of the night, got arrested, or died. But he always comes back. No matter where he goes or what he does, I know he always keeps in touch with Johnny.

"I'll be at Bucks if you need me." He jabbed his thumb back behind him and walked off.

"Be careful!" I called out to him.

Dally waved his hand up and I heard him say, "yeah, yeah."

I smiled at him kindly as I opened the front door and closed it swiftly behind me. I tried to think what that interaction was about, and I was brought back to reality when I saw that the only people in the living room were Darry and Sodapop.

Soda's face brightened when he saw me. He was sitting on the couch watching a show while Darry was on the recliner. Soda smiled at me and he ran his fingers through his greasy hair.

"Is Ponyboy with you?" Darry asked. He was sitting in his chair reading the paper.

"No. Just me." I kicked my converse off.

"You were walking by yourself?" He raised his voice. I admire how dedicated he is to his brothers, but I didn't want him to feel responsible for me.

"Hell no. I was with Dally. He walked me home." I didn't know why I called this place home. But it didn't seem to faze the people who actually live here.

"Okay, that's good." Darry settled down. He hated when I walked anywhere by myself. I rarely do since I have a car, but at night I will never walk alone. "Could you turn that porch light on for me?"

I turned around and flicked the porch light on. It was nearly midnight, and Pony wasn't close to home yet. I yawned as I made my way to the couch and I sat down next to Soda while rubbing my tired eyes.

"You guys staying up for Ponyboy?" I asked tiredly.

"Yep." Soda yawned.

"Darry, go easy on Ponyboy. I'm sure he just dozed off somewhere or something. He is fine." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"How could you be so sure?" Darry raised his tone at me. "He could be dead in a ditch somewhere! I told him to be home at midnight and that's final. He needs to learn that he can't pull this kind of crap anymore."

"Okay," I said sheepishly. I felt bad just for bringing it up.

"I've had it. I'm fixing to bust his head in when he walks through that door," Darry stated.

"Come on, Darry," Soda said with a soft eye-roll. "You're gonna get yourself all worked up again."

"I've been running all over hell's half acre, and he's just going on like he don't have a damn care in the world. He's done playing possum, he's gotta own up to this," Darry finished and angrily turned the page of his newspaper.

I'm not much of a person to push something like this. I didn't have any real evidence that Ponyboy was fine in a way that didn't make me sound insane. I turned to Soda and asked, "oh, how was the game?"

"It was fine, nothing special." He shrugged. Normally he gets really into telling me about the game he went to. He gets so invested, if I happen to ask a question about it he goes on a long tangent before going back to the original point. I wondered why this one was different.

I went into my room to grab my phone, which I hid under the pillow. I also put the bag of candy in there, and stopped in the bathroom to wash my face. I came back to the living room and Ponyboy still wasn't home. The moment I sat back down on the soft beige couch I let my body fall so my head was by Soda's lap.

"I was wondering where that went," Soda said to me softly. I instantly knew he was talking about his sweater.

"Yeah, sorry. I had it in my room. I'm gonna wash it and give it back to you tomorrow, I promise."

"You don't gotta rush. I know it's safe with you." Soda smiled down at me sweetly. "Here," he said softly and he gently lifted my head up so I could rest my head on his legs, like a pillow. I rolled onto my back and let my legs stretch out over the arm of the couch. I smiled up at Soda and thanked him.

The couch is insanely comfortable. It is so worn in, you just sink into the cushions and it's difficult it get off of it because it's so soft and cozy. Soda put one of his hands on the top of my head and used his strong fingers to gently tap on my head like he was playing a keyboard. It was actually relaxing, I closed my eyes and started to drift off. I could feel when Soda finally fell asleep because his hand slowly stopped moving and it finally just rested against my head. Darry continued to sit in the arm chair and read the newspaper.

Darry pointed to an article in the paper and spoke up, "I'll tell you one thing, if things keep going the way they are, it's going to be impossible to buy a week's groceries for $20."

I did everything in my power not to make any sort of comment. I can barely buy dinner for less than $20 back home. I know that he is definitely going to be rightfully annoyed in fifty years.

I didn't even notice that I had dozed off. Before I knew it, I heard the soft sound of the front door opening and closing. I rolled my head to the door and saw Ponyboy tip-toe in. Darry looked up from his paper and stood up like a flash of lightning.

"Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?" Darry was super mad.

Ponyboy shook his head, he parted his lips like he wanted to say something but no words came out.

"Well, its two in the morning, kiddo. Another hour and I would have had the police out after you. Where were you, Ponyboy? Where in the almighty universe were you?"

"I... I went to sleep in the lot with Johnny," Ponyboy stammered. I felt like I should do something to stop this, but I didn't know what I could do. The future events kept playing in my mind and I couldn't think of anything I could do that wouldn't get me punched myself, or accidentally exploit the future. Not that they would believe me anyway. I felt helpless.

"You what?" Darry shouted. I'm sure the neighbors could hear. I've never heard Darry so mad. Darry's yelling woke up Sodapop.

"Hey, Ponyboy. Where ya been?" Soda rubbed his eyes sleepily. I carefully sat up so I didn't accidentally hit my head against Soda's. Soda was groggy and confused about what was happening, but it didn't take long for his expression to shift to concern.

"I didn't mean to. I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off—"

"I reckon it never occurred to you that your brothers might be worrying their heads off and afraid to call the police because something like that could get you two thrown into a boys' home so quick it'd make your head spin." There was the famous Darry line. "And you were asleep in the lot? Ponyboy, what on earth is the matter with you? Can't you use your head? You haven't even got a coat on."

"What's going on?" Soda leaned toward me, still groggy from his two hour nap.

"Darry is pissed that Ponyboy came home late," I whispered to him.

"I hate it when they fight like this. I feel like it is tearing my family apart," Soda whispered back.

"I said I didn't mean to..." I could see tears forming in Ponyboys eyes and starting to sprout onto his red cheeks.

"I didn't mean to!" Darry shouted, it scared everyone. I even saw Sodas eyes widen. "I didn't think! I forgot! That's all I hear out of you! Can't you think of anything?"

"Darry..." Soda and I both said. I knew that Soda was going to say it, and I wanted to try to say it before him. I didn't want him to be yelled at.

"You both keep your traps shut! I'm sick and tired of hearin' both y'all stick up for him!" He snapped.

"Don't you yell at them!" Ponyboy shouted back. I knew what was going to happen next, but it happened so fast I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to stand up to stop Darry, but he spun around so fast. He slapped Ponyboy so hard that it knocked him to the floor.

I gasped and my hands came up to my mouth to try to cover the sound. I backed up until my legs hit the couch but then I froze. The only noise I heard was the buzzing noise of the lights in the house. It was so quiet. Soda and I were both shocked. Soda was up on his feet, but we were both wide eyed with our jaws dropped. No matter how mad Darry got, he never hit Ponyboy before.

"Ponyboy..." Darry inspected his hand and it turned bright red. Ponyboy dashed out of the house without looking back.

"Ponyboy! I didn't mean to!" Darry called out.

"I'm gonna go after him." I ran to the front door to put my shoes on again.

"I'll go too," Soda stated.

"No, Soda, it's okay. Really."

"I'm sure he is fine. He will be back," Darry said. His deep voice was shaking.

"Darry, trust me on this. Okay? I'll talk some sense into him." I tied my shoes and darted out the door, following Ponyboy. I knew exactly where he was going.

He was going to the lot. Ponyboy slowed down a touch, bending down and shaking someone. I'm sure it was Johnny. He mumbled something to him and they ran off.

With every step I took, I could feel my phone pressing against my butt. These pants were comfortable but quite tight around my ass, which is how I think they are supposed to fit. I wished I made some friends that were girls in school so they could teach me how to dress. Evie is great, but she loves tight clothes.

They ran for several blocks before they stopped running. I could hear Ponyboys soft cries fill the air. They sat down on the curb and Ponyboy buried his face in his arms. Johnny put his arm around Ponyboy and reassured him that everything would be okay. I walked over to them and sat down beside Ponyboy. He didn't even look up.

"Bri?" Johnny whispered. I nodded. It was kinda hard to see in the dark.

Ponyboy finally calmed down and Johnny gave him a cigarette. We explained to Johnny what had happened.

"What were you two planning on doing?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"We were going to run away. Now, I don't think it's much of a good idea." Ponyboy was shaking.

"Are you cold?" I asked. I knew he was, I could see the goosebumps forming on his arms.

"A little."

I pulled Soda's cream cable-knit sweater off and I laid it across Ponyboy's shoulders. It left my arms exposed to the cool air, since I was only wearing a t-shirt. He smiled and thanked me.

"Let's walk to the park and back. Maybe by then I'll be cooled off enough to go home," Ponyboy suggested. Johnny agreed, but I had second thoughts.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"Why not?" Pony asked with a pout.

"It's dark out. What if some Socs cause us trouble?" I hypothesized.

"This is our turf, Socs ain't gonna be coming around," Pony said very confidently.

"Can we please just go home?" I begged.

"You can if you want, Johnny and I are goin' to the park. Aren't we, Johnny?" Ponyboy stood up and handed me the sweater back.

Johnny let out a small, "yes," and they made their way to the park, completely refusing my idea of just biting the bullet and going home. Even if we took a brief walk anywhere else in the neighborhood, the Socs would find them anyway. Since they were being stubborn, I couldn't just let them be alone. Besides, I shouldn't be alone either. Even if I booked it back to Darry and Soda, by the time I could get them to come to the park with me I bet we would come across a fresh dead body and the boys would be out of town by then.

I followed them to the park. I pulled the sweater back on to cover my chilly arms and fluffed out my hair. My stomach started to turn and I knew it was a bad idea. I should have had a game-plan for this night. I should never have let Dally walk me home. I should have stayed with the boys and dragged Pony by his feet until we passed the threshold of the front door. It's too late now. All I can do now is hope it doesn't escalate.