DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Outsiders" because it respectively belongs to S.E. Hinton.

I only own Rosalie and any other characters that you might not recognize.

Enjoy!

Rosalie's POV:

WHEN I FIRST saw Ponyboy Curtis come up and talk to me in the middle of the school day, I had just turned eleven years old. It was a week before Christmas break in 1961, bitterly cold but no snow covering the ground yet. It was time for recess, so my friends and I were playing with our dolls, sitting cross-legged on the carpet as we giggled obnoxiously. Because the weather was downright miserable, we were required to stay inside that afternoon. Despite the bulkiness of my maroon sweater, I still just barely felt the feeble tap on my shoulder.

In a flash, Katherine stood up and walked away from the group. We watched her leave, but I was sure that I'd felt something. I stood as well, expecting to see Angela Shepard or another wayward greaser girl. Sure enough, standing before me like a lost little puppy was Ponyboy Curtis. He was dressed in a pair of worn-out blue jeans and a white T-shirt; the purple hoodie that he wore almost every day was zipped up over that.

Bob always warned me to stay away from the Greasers. He said he didn't want any kind of bad influence imprinted on me. Which is ridiculous, because I've seen the way his friends acted. You really didn't have much of a choice in our neighborhood. Still, I knew Ponyboy's gang by name and face; me and my own friends watched them at school. While Stephanie just fawned over Sodapop Curtis, and Katherine liked Dallas Winston's bad boy attitude, I've always had eyes for Ponyboy.

He was good looking, with his copper hair and emerald eyes, but that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet on him. It wasn't uncommon to see him with a book between his hands or watching a movie. It made my heart soar. Before my brother became a teenager, he liked to read books and have movie nights every weekend. I guess that's why the sight of him in the classroom with a thick book tucked under his arm was almost more than I could bear.

"Ponyboy? How's it going?" I asked him quietly once I had found my voice again.

He clearly knew that I was a Soc because his eyes widened a fraction and he gave me a blank stare. "Rosalie? Uh... I just wanted to say hello. We don't talk much."

"That's sweet of you," I told him, very matter of factly. "You can sit down and join me if you'd like."

The copper haired boy shook his head, "It's alright, I don't wanna bother you..."

"It's no problem. Sit down with me."

I didn't want to tell him that I never looked down upon the Greasers like the rest of the world did, that I thought he was something more than a kid with long, greasy hair and a leather jacket. I didn't want Ponyboy to think I felt sorry for him, no matter how much it hurt. So I kept my mouth shut.

Ponyboy sat beside me with his legs crossed, then he placed his book in his lap. My other friends had gone to the opposite end of the room, supposedly to give Pony and me our time together, so I asked him, "What are you reading? That looks like it's a textbook."

The boy grinned. "It's called A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein. You ever heard of him, Rosalie?"

I just nodded my head before I said something foolish. Glory, but I wished I wasn't wearing an old sweater of Bob's that almost went past my knees with a pair of black leggings. I had just turned eleven a couple of weeks ago, but I was still awfully skinny and small. My friend Katherine Prescott already had a boy ask her to go steady; those two held hands on the playground. No one ever asked me though, probably because I still looked like a little kid. I'd never even been alone with a boy, until that moment.

I had lived on the corner of Forrester Avenue my entire life. When my mama found out she was pregnant with my big brother, my father married her even though she was only eighteen and he was twenty-two. He managed to coax his wealthy, real-estate father into giving him a mortgage on a gigantic mansion—the one I grew up in.

My aunt Carly was the only one paying the mortgage now. Mama and Daddy were always off on business trips and spending our hard-earned money on booze. According to Carly, they had never really wanted children. We were lucky to have them around when they came home. My parents weren't good at setting boundaries or disciplining us, but they had good traits too. Even I admired Mama's maternal instincts and the way Daddy joked around with us. I guess that's why it messed Bob and I up so badly whenever they left.

Bobby followed in our father's footsteps and began drinking. He'd just met Randy Adderson, and the two of them began to raise hell together. My brother was already jumping greasers, so they went around town and picked up women and conned little trinkets off of homeless people. By the time he was fourteen, he was rarely home, and if he was, he was usually drunker than a sailor. It made me angry, to tell you the truth. Aunt Carly and I both loved Bobby to death; he had no reason to cause all that trouble.

But my parents both seemed to think that it was their fault he was acting this way, and they were partially right. If only they'd disciplined him instead of excusing his abhorrent behavior, then maybe he wouldn't have to push limits. Sometimes I think Mama and Daddy would've let him get away with murder.

Me, I began fighting, I was an absolute demon to the other kids at school. I'd been watching Bob and his buddies wrestle my entire life, so I knew how to throw a punch and how to dodge one. I liked to throw them better though. Because of this, I got suspended pretty often in elementary school. I made really good grades, so the principal didn't want to kick me out or anything, but he had to punish me somehow. I kind of liked being sent home for a week anyway, and I liked clobbering the shit out of any boy or girl who looked at me the wrong way.

As for Carly, she began working as a registered nurse at the Tulsa General Hospital. Monday through Friday, she was there from eight or nine in the morning till six in the afternoon. Even then, she was still exhausted.

I liked living here though; despite the fact that everyone on the East side thought we were spoiled brats. My best friend Caroline was a part of the middle-class community, but she was the sweetest thing. I knew everyone in the neighborhood. Even if we were all different, we were really nice to each other, and we took care of one another when we could. I liked that a lot.

When our teacher finally announced the end of recess and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, I stood up from the carpet and walked back to my desk. Once we began learning about the Louisiana Purchase, I dreamed of green eyes and messy hair for the first time, but not the last.

It was silly, but after that one day, I worshipped Ponyboy Curtis. I doodled his name in the margin of all of my notebooks and thought about the day that he would finally love me back. It didn't matter that we'd exchanged maybe three sentences that afternoon, or that we didn't get to talk again for the rest of the school day. I truly thought that I was in love with him.

For the first few years, Ponyboy didn't talk to me as much. He was a relatively shy person. But then in the beginning of 1966, it was said that Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had died in a car accident.

God, it was absolutely horrendous. There was an article about it in the paper that I'd chosen to read after my breakfast, despite Bob's protests. I sure wish I hadn't though. I'll never forget the way Ponyboy acted at school the next week. He was trying so hard to be strong and still sobbing. I wept about the sight of him more than anything else, and to this day, I still think about that article.

After his parents died, Ponyboy started opening up to me. Which was great, because he eventually introduced me to his friend Johnny Cade. Bob was drinking more than ever, and aunt Carly was working extra shifts, so that allowed me to sneak out at night to see Johnny and Pony.

There was a brief, beautiful few months when I could talk to the boys and make them smile. They didn't always have anything to say, but they laughed at all my jokes, which were usually about the people on TV or the other kids we knew. I was thirteen, and all I wanted in this world was to make the Greasers feel good about themselves. It seemed like I could do it, for a little while.

But then Johnny got jumped.

It was in May. I was supposed to go to Caroline's after school, but she was sick, so I walked around town instead. I had just purchased an ice-cold Coke from the convenience store when I saw Johnny kicking around the football in an empty lot. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. What would happen if I went out there and talked to him? Surely, he'd be surprised since I was out of my territory during the day, and we only ever hung out in the middle of the night.

Would he even talk to me? Could I get a smile?

Just as I was about to leave the store, a blue Cadillac slowly cruised down the street. It idled to a stop in front of the lot. I held my breath as four Socs stepped out, smiling coldly; one of them was my brother.

I knew what they were going to do. Socs liked to drive around this side of town and look for trouble. This wasn't the first time they had cornered somebody like this. But I still hadn't moved from my spot at the window.

From the look on his face, Johnny knew what was going to happen too. He kept his cool though. When they started hitting him, he hit back... for a while.

It was my biggest secret and my deepest shame. I watched Bob and his friends jump Johnny Cade, and I couldn't move. I didn't know why. The doors were closed, but their voices were still clear as they threatened and swore at him. They took turns beating him, blacking his eyes and cutting up his face. And I just stood there, sick and paralyzed with a mixture of anger and fear. The girl who had won more fights than anyone else my age, the one who broke Angela Shepard's nose in seventh grade. I didn't understand it. I still don't.

Eventually, Johnny stopped getting back up. My brother and his friends, their nice sweaters not even mussed, got into his car just as stoically as they had gotten out of it. They drove away like nothing had ever happened.

Time felt strange after that. It took me a moment or two to process that it was finally over, but once I did, my body felt the horror before my brain. I ran straight for the bathroom, dropping to my knees and almost not making it in time. Sick for quite a while, I clutched the cool porcelain in my shaking hands. I couldn't seem to stop heaving, even when I was finished.

When I could finally stand up, I washed the mascara from my face and tried not to look in the mirror. I was sobbing, but I knew I looked like a picture compared to Johnny.

I rushed out of the store, not bothering to acknowledge the clerk calling after me to ask if everything was all right. On my way out the door, though, I could see that Ponyboy's gang had already beaten me to it.

Steve Randle was clutching Johnny's denim jacket, which was stained with blood. Two-Bit Matthews had hopped out of his car with it still running. Dallas Winston was swearing, I knew, without even hearing it. Darry Curtis looked grim and tight-lipped. Soda held Johnny while Ponyboy stood there and watched. He had that same look on his face from school.

I knew I couldn't tell the other Greasers what I'd seen tonight. They couldn't understand that there were things worse than being beaten. Hell, I can barely understand why I didn't stop my brother and help Johnny. If I came out of the convenience store, at least Bob would know. And Ponyboy would never forgive me for not helping his best friend; I never really forgave myself.

So, feeling lower than the dirt beneath their shoes, I shakily called Cherry Valance to come and pick me up. I was still crying too. From my spot on the curb, I watched the boys load Johnny up into Two-Bit's truck. For a split second, Ponyboy lifted his head and met my gaze. He quickly looked away though. I wondered if he knew somehow.

After that, I swore that I'd stay as far away from the Greasers as possible. I started staying home most nights and avoiding them at school, even though I was usually a social butterfly during the summer. They seemed to get the hint, though, after a while. They stopped approaching me, and we almost never spoke. Most of the time, we ignored each other, or pretended that we were.

This gave me a lot of time to agonize over my feelings for Ponyboy. I thought surely, if he knew how I loved him, it would at least make him feel a little better. And then maybe he would finally notice me too.

Hello, lovelies! I really hope you enjoyed this prologue and getting to know Rosalie, as well as her backstory. I've added my own changes to the canon plot, but they aren't too crazy, most of it is pretty much the same. I'm trying to keep things as original as possible, so please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome; I know I'm not perfect.

QOTC: What do you think of Rosalie? What about Bob? Do you think their rough backstory justifies their behavior?

XOXO – Madi :D