Chapter 1: A Million Ways To Say I'm Sorry

Just Be Held

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own The Outsiders? No. The real owner of The Outsiders is the best author ever, S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from the stories that I write on this site.

A/N: Please tell me what you think! Criticism is welcome, but no flames please. Flames killed Johnny. ;) Suggestions are always welcome, no matter what they might be. Thanks.

~Ages~

Johnny: 16

Ponyboy: 14

Darry: 19

Two-Bit: 18

Steve and Sodapop: 17

Darry ~Winter, 1966~

"No telivision after eleven o'clock. Sodapop and Ponyboy have school tomorrow and you have work early, so you best be in bed before one o'clock and the boys best be before midnight. I should be home tomorrow sometime around noon-"

"Mom," I complained roughly, "I've babysat my brothers before. There teenagers. We'll be okay."

She kissed my cheek and I playfully pretended to wipe it off. "I know you will, Darry. Your a good man. Goodbye. I love you all, boys," she called the last part louder so that everyone could hear here her.

Soda was on the phone in the kitchen, so he waved his hand absentmindedly and continued to talk to Sandy. I laughed at him and went into Ponyboy's room.

"You doin' alright on that homework?" I asked him, ruffling his hair. He scowled and combed it back into place, even though there was no one home to see it.

"Yeah. It's just trig," he responded, filling in another answer on his sheet. He began to chew on his eraser unconsciously. I left him to his homework. Trigonometry was not at all my specialty. When I came back into the kitchen Soda had a mock-scowl on his face, but his eyes held no seriousness.

"It's for you," he said to me in a girly sing-song voice.

"Hey, Emily," I answered without even asking who it was, shooting Soda daggers. He just laughed and stuck his tongue out at me childishly.

"Hey, Darry. Can I come over tonight," I could hear her grinning through the phone. I could just imagine her, stretching the phone out as far as it could go into the couch, twirling a piece of dirty blond, caramel tinted hair between her perfectly painted pink nails wearing a black mini skirt. The way that she always talked in the phone.

"Yeah, it's just me and my brothers. You gotta put up with the little twerps for a few hours." I made sure that Sodapop could hear it loud and clear.

Within fifteen minutes she was inside the house, chatting with Ponyboy on his latest book. He was reading To Kill A Mockingbird, one of Emily's favorites, and she was soaking it all up. I had no idea what they were taking about, but both of there faces were animated.

There was suddenly a knock on the door out of nowhere. An uneasy feeling spread down in the pit of my stomach. Nobody I actually wanted to see ever knocked, especially not the gang. Not even little Johnny Cade knocked before entering.

"Hello, Officer," I greeted formally as I opened the screen door slowly, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

"Are you Darrel Curtis Jr.?" He asked. I nodded mutely.

"There is no easy way to tell you this, but there was an accident tonight involving your parents. Single vehicle. There were no survivors."

There was a hundred million ways to say your parents are never coming home, and each way seemed just as painful as the next. Sodapop came up behind me, and Pony and Emily trailed slowly behind him like puppies.

"That's-that's not t-true," Ponyboy trembled. I gulped thickly, biting back my own tears. I knew that my life was forever changed right then. My little brothers were now my responsibilities.

"Somebody from the state will be here to collect Sodapop and Ponyboy tomorrow," the police Officer continued. Emily gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"I want custody," my voice didn't sound like mine. Did I really just say that? Did I really just agree to giving up football and college? Essentially, did I just give up my life?

Yes, I just did. And looking at my brothers then, now being comforted by my sweet, motherly girlfriend, I felt absolutely no regret. Just the complete soul-sucking loss and emptiness that we all felt.


That night, Emily laid in bed next to me, naked and rubbing my back as I cried.

"Superman only saved people a little percent of the time. Mostly, he was just Louise Lane," she whispered in my ear. "Superman was human."

A/N: Word Count: 812 words

Aufenthalt Gold,

~Alee XxX