Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.

A/N: This is my first fanfic so feedback would be great! Enjoy!

My mind has a tendency to drift away from time to time. It isn't so abnormal to be a dreamer in a world that seems to crash and burn every time you bat an eyelash - or at least that's what I like to tell myself. Darry says it's a nuisance, Sodapop says it's a coping mechanism, and Ponyboy, well Ponyboy's head is too far up in the clouds to put his two cents in.

That's the one thing me and Pony have in common - minus our DNA and birthday - we both like to take a break from the real world and just zone out. Just imagine a perfect world inside this imperfect world like some kind of Utopia. Although, according to Mrs. Douza, Utopias are a bad thing.

My Utopia isn't so far fetch like those weird sci-fi stories we read in English class or movies shown at the drive-in though. I'm not asking to manipulate mankind into being some sort of brainwashed society. I just want to be free.

Free. Free of all my nightmares, all of my fears, all of my losses. Free of all of my regrets and all of my mistakes. Free to walk the streets without having to keep a blade on me. Free to do as I please without any repercussions because frankly, I'm starting to drown in this town.

The town I learned how to ride a bike in is the same town that too many lives have been taken from. Growing up I couldn't imagine anything better than this tiny hole in the wall. Going apple picking with mom and playing football with dad and the boys. It was the little things I took for granted. I didn't appreciate mom pulling and brushing my knotted hair into a braid and being dragged to church every Sunday, but God, what I would do to have her do it again one last time.

Now it's just another thing I've come to resent.

"Go sit by the TV and let your nails dry, okay sweetie," I finished the seven year old's pinky with a lavender color.

Angela was sitting on the opposite side of the table giving herself her own manicure.

"Let Diane catch you doing that and she'll tear you a new one," I shook my head and put the nail polish basket back in the cabinet.

It was a typical Angela Shepard move. I mostly carried on both of our work while she took a little six hour vacation from home a few days a week. As she always claimed, kid's aren't exactly her forte.

And that's exactly why she's working in a day care.

"Is Diane here?" It was more of a rhetorical question.

Following orders wasn't her strong suit either. She likes to think of herself as her own boss.

Darry gave me an ultimatum - go the winter without heat or get a job and help foot in the bills. I chose the latter.

Okay so it didn't exactly pan out that way but that was basically the gist of it. I didn't need to hear it word for word from my stressed out and overworked brother to figure it out. I wasn't some dumb kid and I knew things were rough. I knew Darry and Soda were burnt out from constantly working double shifts and I knew it was only a matter of time before December rolled around.

Darry had a fit at first and rejected the idea of me getting a job completely. He was always prominent on Pony and I focusing on school without any distractions.

He was also stubborn and headstrong and wouldn't let you help him if a truck landed on top of him.

Darry and I clashed a lot. I'm not exactly sure if it's because I'm the only girl in the house, all of the stress that's fallen on his shoulders since the accident, or because I might just be a tad stubborn as well.

High possibility that it might be a combination of all three.

I can't complain much though, Darry has given up so much for me - for us - and I thought it was time for me to lift some of that weight off of him. After all, I am sixteen now, and I'd like to get a dress for junior prom in the spring time and maybe get my nails done once in a blue moon. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to fit in the budget.

That's how Soda convinced Darry to let me look for a job anyhow. I wasn't helping with the bills, because God forbid somebody other than Soda was helping Darry, but I was just looking for some extra pocket money. Darry tries his best to give me, Soda, and Ponyboy a few bucks every so often to go out and have fun, but realistically, we couldn't afford it and all of that money just went towards food or the bills behind Darry's back anyways.

Darry doesn't notice the stack of bills dwindling down, and I plan to keep it that way. The less Darry knows, the better. He has enough on his mind like monthly visits from the state to notice. It was a toothache and a half but eventually the state of Oklahoma granted Darry the rights to become our legal guardian. Some days I think Darry regrets it and wishes we just would've went into a group home, but deep down I know he would chew flesh and bone to keep us all together under one roof.

"Can she have a piece of candy?" I asked the mother as I snipped off both of their wristbands and nodded my head towards the bowl next to the door.

Scrunchy's wasn't exactly a real day care per se, it was more of a free babysitting service in a room in the back of the grocery store so parents could shop at ease without having to worry about their children. It's actually pretty neat. I just paint nails and tattoos with acrylic paint and do crafts every so often. There's a ton of board games and a chalkboard to draw on. Kids love it, parents love it, and it's a helluva lot better than working up front and scanning food items and dealing with nasty customers all day. No thank you.

Angela tagged along. I love her to death, she's my best friend after all, but the girl can't hold a job to save her life. When she worked at the Dingo across town, she missed too many morning shifts after late nights of partying and she was booted out the door within a month. It seemed to be a pattern at all the other places she's worked at over the past six months, and they all seemed to end the same way.

However, there was a brain under all of that thick black hair on her head and she figured I'd cover her ass if need be. I don't know why I do it, but I do.

"Bonfire down by the lake tomorrow night, you in?" Angela popped a lollipop from the bowl in her mouth.

I was going to tell her that Diane stresses that those are strictly for the kids, but instead I just hold my breath.

I was also going to tell her no, but I knew it wasn't a question.

I wasn't exactly a social butterfly if you know what I mean. That's one of the things I admired most about Angela, she could talk to anyone anytime anywhere, and act as if they've been best friends for a lifetime. Maybe she was just a better actress than I was. She just had that kind of personality.

"I don't know if I can, Darry's been real strict after what happened with Pony and Johnny last year."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Darry wasn't too keen on us being out past dark without one of the guys with us, let alone some party with a bunch of goons by the lake - with Angela Shepard nonetheless.

The Shepard family wasn't your picture perfect family, to say the least. They were the definition of dysfunctional and Darry isn't thrilled about their reputation either. With the state on our backs, we were constantly walking on eggshells. One screw up and we would be separated within hours.

And according to my loving eldest brother, Angela was nothing but trouble.

Tim is the oldest, nineteen I believe, and is basically the show runner. He runs one of the biggest gangs on this side of the tracks while keeping his younger siblings in check, because God knows where their mother is and who she's fucking at the moment. Angela was enough to keep his hands full, and Curly, Curly was definitely a character of his own.

Angela and Curly are Irish twins, only a year and few months apart. Angela is known for sleeping around, and if you didn't know her face, you definitely knew her name. Curly on the other hand lives in his brother's shadows. He's constantly trying to prove himself but it's never actually worked yet as he's always sent to reformatory for dumb reasons he could have easily avoided. He reminds me of Ponyboy in a way. Minus the criminal record and 1.4 GPA they both seemed to be the lost wolves of the pack. It's probably they get along so well.

Angela just rolled her eyes. Like I said, it wasn't a question, "Come by my place at eight tomorrow. I need you to tell me which outfit you think looks the best."

This was our going out ritual. Darry would have an aneurism if he saw me walking out of the house in Angela's wardrobe. Angela always tries on a plethora of outfits and different shirt and skirt combinations. For someone who didn't have a lot of money, she had a closet full of clothes. I'm pretty sure she didn't pay for half of them though.

Anyway, it's a painfully long process. The 5'2" big brown eyed girl with a thick pout and just as thick long black hair that reaches the middle of her back was picky and indecisive. She needed the tightest and skimpiest outfit. She needed to stand out from the rest of the girls.

That was the one thing I could never understand about her. She craved attention. She needed it. She thrived off of it. I mean with her figure, and the amount of hornballs in this town, it wasn't that hard. But she always wanted to advertise what she was blessed with. It was her thing.

I always got the runner up outfit, the second choice. It didn't matter to me though, I wasn't exactly ecstatic to be flaunting around town in a too tight dress that highlights every bump, lump, and imperfection. I would much rather go out in something more breathable, but then again I'd rather just not go out at all.

I guess I'm gonna have to take an L for this one - again.

"Heard through the grapevine Winston's back in town," she sprayed and washed all the marker and paint off of the tables.

Seven o'clock rolled around after what felt like forever and it was time to clean and close up. Cleaning is always the worst part. Everything has to be sanitized, despite the fact that only a whole three kids came in today.

I sanitized and threw the toys back in the bin, "Hmmm, says who?"

This isn't the first time Dallas has been rumored to be back.

Dally just disappeared after Johnny died, and it wasn't until a few months ago that he decided to call up and let us know he was alive and in New York. He kept the phone call short and only talked to Darry. It was kind of an insult that he could just pick up and leave like it was nothing after everything that happened last year. We were all suffering from the incident but that's just Dally - he copes his own way.

I haven't seen him since the night he fled the hospital. For all we knew he was on some suicide mission and dead in a ditch somewhere. Johnny was his anchor, although he would never in a million years admit that, and he just left. We searched for him for weeks. Me and Two-bit even took a road trip down to the border.

Nothing.

Never in my wildest dreams would I think the guy would go back up to New York. Not after all the venom he used in his voice every time he mentioned his childhood up there.

To each their own I guess.

"I just thought I'd let you know," she smirked as she shoved handfuls of lollipops in her purse, "Take it with a grain of salt, this town sure loves to talk."

Shortly after, Angela left with her new beau, Ricky. She asked if I wanted a ride but I passed on the offer. I'd rather walk the three miles than watch her kiss and grope him from the passenger seat. I've watched it one too many times over the years.

I don't know much about him, other than that he's sixteen and he's new in town. It caught me off guard because Angela tends to lean towards the older guys. She met him at Buck's about a month ago so I can only imagine what a prize she scored with this one.

Now that it's October, it's starting to get darker earlier. By seven o'clock it's already pitch black and the wind is starting to pick up. Seasons are usually delayed in Tulsa and summer usually extends from March through November if we're lucky. This year, not so much.

Most people take for granted a nice night like this. The sky is clear and the stars are prominent. The air is brisk but it's not too harsh on my bare skin. I'm only in my work uniform which consisted of my Scrunchy's Playhouse polo and black jeans. Of course there was the hooting and hollering from boys on this side of the tracks, and the harsh obscene curses coming from the rich idiots in mustangs that must not know where their own territory is. None of it bothered me though. No harm no foul.

I could hear them from down the street. I don't even have to be there to know that Steve cheated in their little poker game and the living room is now a wrestling ring.

I jogged the rest of the way home. As often as this scenario happens, it never gets old. Watching Darry take on Steve on a one on one, mono y mono brawl will never, ever get old.

Darry always wins. Steve always gets mad. Two-bit is always instigating more and Sodapop is always taking advantage of this circus act and switches the cards around.

I'm sure we all know who the real winner is.

I'm panting like an overheated dog by the time I reach the porch. Ponyboy has always been the runner of the family, but I'm sure smoking a pack a day isn't helping me any either.

I was never much of a smoker. I didn't even start until mom and dad died. It was a stress reliever and helped me calm down some. But even then it wasn't nearly as much as I do now. A pack might've lasted me a few weeks. Now, chain smoking has become a hobby of mine. Darry grills me for it all the time too. I can't help it though, maybe it'll kill me before something else does.

The screen door busted open and the gang all trampled over each other waving smoke out of their faces.

"Nikki! Take cover!" Two-bit tackled me and we rolled off the porch and down the lawn.

Sometimes I think the big dope forgets he's six inches taller and weighs at least a hundred and twenty pounds more than me.

"Two, if you don't get off of me I'm going to become two dimensional," I managed to cough out even though my organs felt like they were flattened already.

"I'm about to make Two-bit two dimensional. Why on God's green earth would you boil pasta on a stove without any water?" Darry peeled him off of me and lifted him up by the collar.

Did I ever mention that Darry is a strong fella? Always has been, even in high school, but I think all of the lifting he does at work plays a role in it too. He always wears t-shirts a size too small to show off his bulging muscles. I don't know anyone who would want to mess with this guy. He is Superman after all.

"I forgot!" Two-bit threw his arms up in the air in defense. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning from ear to ear. He found everything hilarious. Everything.

"Might have to start calling ya Ponyboy from now on," he threw Two-bit back on his feet.

Being the wise cracker he is, he started kissing the ground getting laughs from both Soda and Steve.

"Must be nice not being on the other end for once, huh Steve," Soda nudged his best friend since elementary school with his elbow.

Ponyboy was sitting on the steps of the porch with a fag in his hand. You could tell he got offended by what Darry said, but he would never say anything about it. Darry is a little rough on the poor kid. Sure he never uses his head when it counts, but he doesn't deserve half the flack that Darry spews at him.

"What'd the clown do this time?" A familiar voice rang from behind.

As if on cue, everyone in the yard turned in the same direction.

There he was. Leaning against the fence with the same smug look on his face he always has, "Ya gotta stick, Nicholas?" He grabbed the lighter that fell out of my back pocket when Two-bit decided to tackle me to my near death.

Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. Nobody believed it. I couldn't believe it. Sure Angela said something, but she also said something last month too. And the month before that. After a while I got the hint that hey, Dally isn't coming back.

He just stood there like he wasn't gone for a year. He didn't take off without telling anyone so everyone could worry sick. It's like he's been here the entire time, smoking and joking around with us. It's like he never left. The same cocky expression never left.

I fumbled around my pockets until I found the pack. I was the first one to move, "It's Nikki," my voice was kind of shaky. Can you blame me? It was like talking to a ghost.

"Sure it is, Nicholas," he lit up the stick and sucked in as much as his little lungs could possibly hold, and then exhaled, "So are y'all gonna say something or should I clear my busy schedule and come back tomorrow?"

There you have it ladies and gentlemen. It's the man himself. Here in the cold hard flesh.

Dallas Winston is back.

And where Dallas Winston goes, trouble follows.