Disclaimer: The Queen of all, Miss Susie Hinton owns The Outsiders, for which I am eternally grateful.
A/N: I'm really excited for this one, guys. I'm welcome all comments, reviews and constructive criticism. This is just the prologue but I think it deserves to stand on it's own. Chapter 1 will be up shortly. Also: MAJOR THANKS to somebluedecember for her amazing beta reading.
This story is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honor.
The world is a small daze as you stumble across the vacant lot to a small liquor store. It's located on the corner of Lewis and Marigold, just across from the town library that you've never visited.
You hold a crow bar loosely in your right hand, letting it dangle above the concrete. Clutched in your left fist you hold what is left from the beer that you managed to sneak out of the house while your mom and stepdad fought it out, again.
There is a slight chill in the air and you shiver, realizing that you forgot a jacket. But the cold doesn't last long as you bring the bottle to your lips and drink the rest in one giant gulp. The feeling of the alcohol spreads warmth throughout your body, from the edge of your fingertips to the bottom of your feet. The ground sways a moment and you toss your now empty bottle away in an attempt to stand upright. Once you have gathered your ground, you glance left, then right and dash across the street before anyone catches you.
The wind blows through your hair as if you were riding in the back of a pickup truck in the middle of a tornado. You feel deaf, barely able to hear your own thoughts as you make your way around back to a door illuminated with only a small light that is a gathering space for mosquitoes. Hoping to make the job a little easier you try to turn the knob, but it's locked. You sigh in frustration as you raise the crowbar to break open the glass window in the door.
It's a loud crash, and a light appears in the distance. In your rush to get in and out of the store, you drop the crowbar on the ground and thrust your hand inside the window to unlock the door from the inside.
"Fuck," you hiss, trying to keep your voice down as a searing pain makes it's way through your arm. You look at your hand, bewildered as you see red starting to drip off and onto the floor. The light above shines on your hand and the blood glistens in the glow. You don't usually get squeamish when you see blood, but the alcohol that is flowing through your body right now makes the image a little hard to comprehend.
"Shit." You realize that your right hand is actually cut open and this makes the job so much harder. But you've already come this far, and you promised Jimmy and Sam that you would bring the hard liquor for later tonight.
You notice a few more lights in the distance and ignore the pulse in your hand, instead reaching back through the window, careful to reach over the shattered glass and fiddle with the switch. After what seems to be the longest time, you manage to unlock the door and let yourself in.
It's pitch black, with no light except for the one outside that sheds a glow that barely passes over the threshold. The light is flickering, and you just know that any moment it's going to go out completely. Clutching a handful of your white t-shirt with your injured hand to staunch the bleeding, you run your left hand against the wall in desperate search for a light switch.
Then, in the distance you hear sirens, and your mind goes into overdrive as you forget about the light switch and stumble farther into the darkness to find the liquor. You pick up a couple bottles here and there, trying to forget that your hand is throbbing. Once you have four bottles tucked in your arms, you turn around, attempting to find the way back out. But the light has stopped working so that all you see is darkness and your heart starts beating faster.
"Shit, shit, shit," you mutter. As you start to walk in a random direction, you start to panic some more as blue and red lights begin to appear through the windows.
You contemplate just dropping the alcohol and running, but before you can make a decision, the sound of cop cars stopping outside of the store comes to your ears, and you stand still because you can't think of any other way out.
The cops barrel in, flipping on the light switch with ease, and you scowl because they were able to find the light so much easier than you. You squint as the light shines in your eyes and you raise your arms to block the brightness, the bottles dropping to the floor with a crash. The strong smell of liquor suddenly makes you want to hurl and you can feel the liquid seeping into your old shoes that have been worn through the bottom.
"Freeze!" the cop yells, and for some reason - even though the alcohol is starting to wear off - the command propels you to run in the opposite direction. You don't get far before someone blocks your path and slams you onto the countertop, pulling your arms behind your back and cuffing them roughly. He pats you down, and pulls out your switchblade from your back pocket.
"Charles Shepard," the policeman says with a disheartened tone. "You ever going to get straight, son?"
You don't really know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut. The cop grabs the back of your collar and then pushes you outside to the two cop cars that are illuminating the street with blue and red lights.
"Get in," the cop mutters, putting his hand on your head and pushing you into the car.
Inside the car, you attempt to get comfortable, but it's difficult. The gash on your hand is starting to burn, but you can't get a look at it on the count that your hands are cuffed. You sigh and lean your head back, staring at the red and blue lights flashing in the dark night.