A Different Outsider
Summary: The Civil Rights Movement and the events that went along with it before and after it happened in the 1960s, around the time of the Outsiders. So guess who is having a worse time than the Greasers? The black girl who moved to town. After the gang gets to know her better, they notice something strange about the way Becky treats Dally. So is she hiding something? And what about Johnny's doctor, who has seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth? OC.
(A/N): Hi guys! This is my first story. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Outsiders. Things would be different if I did.
Prologue
A knock broke the silence of Ponyboy's room. Ponyboy looked up from the book in his hands. He was having trouble staying focused on it and was half glad to break away. This was very unusual for Ponyboy, but then again so was everything else.
"Come in," he called flatly.
Darry opened the door. He had a big smile on his face, and, also to Ponyboy's surprise, tears were in his eyes.
"What is it Darry?"
"There's some…people here to see you."
Ponyboy perked up.
Johnny's death…
Silence. An eerie silence filled the hospital room. Dally and Ponyboy had come back from the rumble, to tell Johnny about their victory. It had been an exciting moment. The triumph and joy of it breaking through the pain Pony and Dally were in. But that's what it had been: a moment.
And now, Johnny's last words sat, hanging in the air. "Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold," he'd said.
Dally couldn't take it. He had to do something. So he ran. That was one thing he was good at. And no one would catch him. No one could.
Ponyboy stared down at his body. "Johnny. Please don't be dead. Please," he begged. His voice quavered. "Please."
It's no use, he thought. You're talking to a lifeless body.
So, in a daze, he left, stumbling and crashing into anything he came into contact with. He crashed into a man, Johnny's doctor, as he left the room. He mumbled an apology, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.
Johnny was dead. And there was nothing he could do.
Back in the room, the nurse walked in. By the way his two friends had left so quickly, he must have passed. For a few seconds, she looked down at the poor boy. The one who had rejected his own mother. The one who had saved those kids.
Then she noticed it. His eyes were fluttering.
His voice was so low she almost didn't catch the word. "Dead?" And his eyes opened.
The nurse gasped and backed up into the wall.
"Dead?" he repeated. This time he was sitting up, slowly, brushing the long shaggy hair out of his eyes. That shouldn't have been possible; the flaming beam had broken his back.
"I ain't dead, Ponyboy. Ponyboy? Dally?" Johnny glanced around the room. His eyes fell on the surprised nurse. "Where are my friends?"
"They just left. Because you- But you just…died."
Johnny let that set in for a moment. "They think I'm dead. Ponyboy…Dally. Oh no. Dally. I've got to go."
He hopped out of the bed and onto his feet. In a flash, he was running down the hallway, in only his socks and underwear. But right before he left, he had grabbed something off the bedside table: The Gone with the Wind book.
He ran past nurses and family members pushing patients in wheelchairs. All the way down the stairs. "Ponyboy! Dally!" he yelled.
Then he ran into his doctor. "Johnny." The doctor didn't seem the least bit shocked.
"Do you know where my two friends went? Greased hair. One with greenish eyes and bleached blond hair, the other with white-blond hair and blue eyes?"
"Yeah. The younger one left, crashing into everything he passed. I'm not sure about the other one."
"Glory, I've gotta go. Thanks, Doc."
He began to run off.
"Um, Johnny?"
Johnny turned back. "Yeah?"
"You might want to put on some clothes. I don't think that's legal." Out of nowhere, the doctor pulled out Johnny's clothing and tossed them to him. It was the exact outfit from the accident, permanently stained by ash, but otherwise clean and like it had been before.
Johnny caught the bundle. "Thanks, Doc."
Johnny ran, at the same time pulling on his pants and shirt. Forget shoes. If Sodapop could do it every day, so could he.
Johnny came running up to the Dollar Store, looking for pay phone to call the Curtis house. The lights were still on inside the building, and it was empty except for the clerk and a boy. He was pretty beaten up, like he'd been in a rumble. His light hair was way past tousled and he was fingering a magazine, like he wanted to put it in his leather jacket. Dally.
Johnny ran into the store. "Dally!"
A look of confusion passed over his face. "Johnny? No, I'm losing my mind. Johnny's dead."
"Dally, I ain't dead. I don't know how, but I'm alive and healed."
Dally shook his head, leaning into the support of the postcard rack. He refused to believe it. "I'm losing my mind."
Johnny opened the book and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Read it, Dally."
Reluctantly, Dally took it with shaking hands. He scanned over it quickly before lunging at Johnny…and pulling him into a hug. They gripped each other tightly. Then they walked out of the store grinning. As they walked down the street, Dally smacked Johnny in the back of his head.
"Ow. What was that for?"
"For thinking I would look at a dumb sunset."
Hours later, Ponyboy sat in his room. A book lay in his hands, untouched. Johnny was dead. And Dally was likely somewhere dead or dead drunk.
No, Johnny's not dead. He's probably in the lot, smoking a cigarette, watching the stars. And Ponyboy believed it.
A knock broke the silence of Ponyboy's room.
"Come in," he called flatly.
Darry opened the door. He had a big smile on his face, and, also to Ponyboy's surprise, tears were in his eyes.
"What is it Darry?"
"There's some…people here to see you."
Ponyboy perked up.
Dally walked in. "You ain't dead or drunk," Ponyboy commented.
"Well, hello to you too," Dally replied, rolling his eyes.
"Darry said there were some people. As in more than one."
Dally leaned back into the dresser and crossed his arms. "Yeah, Ponyboy. I'm doing fine. I decided not to rob a store or get boozed up."
Pony glanced at the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled. Running a hand through his newly blond hair and laying back on the bed he added, "Look, Dal, I'm not in the mood for games. I don't even know why you are. Johnny's gone and-"
Ponyboy faltered as he heard Dally shuffle across the room and twist the doorknob.
"Dally, what are y-"
"Hey, Pony."
He almost didn't recognize the voice; he'd really thought he wouldn't hear it again. He'd been half expecting that Cherry Valance would walk into the room, but as he sat up he realized how wrong his guess was.
Johnny stood there in the doorway.
Ponyboy's lips moved uselessly, trying to find something to say. He wanted to accuse Dally for playing such a cruel joke or to wake up from this impossible dream. His vision blurred with tears and his shoulders shook. When his sight cleared again, Johnny was still there.
He didn't have time to process any thought or feeling before he rushed his friend. They hugged each other, tears now leaking freely.
The rest of the gang ran in. Two-Bit, Steve, Soda (who was crying the hardest), and Darry came in and surrounded the two. Even Dally joined in the group hug.
Even though they all looked like they were half dead- and felt as bad as they appeared- a small sense of hope was there in the room. Like everything would be okay.
(A/N): Okay, so hope you liked it. Review, please!
