Author's Note: READ THIS FIRST!!

It has been my observation that one of the main themes of the novel 'The Outsiders' is that life isn't fair. Let me repeat: Life. Is. Not. Fair. Thus, when you read the following piece of fanfiction, I (please please please) do not want to have to read through paragraphs of 'Why did you do that to so-and-so, he was my favorite character!' or 'Why did so-and-so have to die?'. I have posted this fanfic before on another website, and I, many times, was accused of being cruel to my characters. Let me point out that conflict and suffering creates plot, which is essential to all pieces of writing. Every hardship my characters go through has a point and purpose to the plot. And if I, again, have to go through complaints, I will pull this story from the site. Constructive criticism is more than welcome. Complaints are not.

Thanks so much in advance,

-piratelassie15

Chapter One

Home

Home sweet home.

To tell you the truth, the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma looked exactly the same as it did when I had left it behind six years ago. Six years could do a lot to a city, but it seemed to have done nothing to Tulsa. It also seemed to have done nothing for it, either.

As I drove down the dirt road in my brand-new Morris Minor, I finally got a real sense of change as I drove by the DX where Sodapop and Steve used to work on cars when we were kids. I mean teenagers. When we were young hoodlums, in any case. Now we were just old hoodlums. Seven years didn't seem to have done much for us. We left behind the 'young hoodlum' stage about 3 years ago. Once Two-Bit could buy alcohol legally, there wasn't much fun in being a young hoodlum anymore. So we just sort of graduated into being old hoodlums.

The DX looked nothing like it had when Soda and Steve worked there. When they had been there, it was very well-worn. The gas pumps had their good share of rust, the floors needed sweeping (although neither Soda nor Steve ever felt like doing it), and the shelves were mostly stocked with soda, beer, and cigarettes, despite the fact that their boss kept threatening to sack them unless they did their job right. But she would never have sacked Steve or Soda. Steve was just too good with cars, and Soda had just attracted way too many girls (potential customers) into the shop. Now, the place was so squeaky clean that it gleamed in the hot sunlight. It looked unreal. Of course, it had been many years since Steve and Soda had worked there. Soda couldn't navigate around the narrow isles in the store since his accident, and Steve had moved on to greener pastures.

Besides the DX, however, nothing had changed much, unless we're counting the latest fads, like in clothes and music and movies and things like that. Even Buck Merrill's place still looked like a whore-house. Did he even still live there?

Driving through Tulsa again, after not setting foot in it in six years, didn't quite hit me like I thought it would. Although all the memories of my childhood hit me like an anvil, I think I was more glad to be back than anything else, even if it wasn't for good. I mean, it wasn't like I was seeing these people for the first time in six years; I kept in touch with all of them, even while I was up in Penn.

However, it wasn't until I finally caught sight of the run-down house I had lived in with Darry and Soda that everything suddenly came at me like a wave. Just the sight of Darry walking out onto the front porch reminded me so much of my childhood that I was suddenly reduced to nothing more than a blubbering wreck.

It really was good to be home.

"Glory, kid!" a familliar voice shouted, and there was an earth-shattering BANG of something landing on the roof of my car, and I seriously saw the ceiling indent a little. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Two-Bit," I said, rolling down the window so I could stick my head out of it. "This was a new car."

"Well, I ain't paying for it, if that's what you're asking." Two-Bit climbed down from the roof of my car (apparently he had jumped out of a tree and landed on it). "Since when did you go worryin' about that stuff, anyhow?"

"Since I spent all year saving up for it." I said, praying to God that Steve might be able to work some magic on it.

"Glory, it speaks!" Two-Bit said, still keeping up a patter of incessant chatter as I got out of the car. "Since when did you ever speak more than two sentences to me in one sitting, kid? You used to be so quiet; what the hell happened?"

"I grew up." I pointed out. I knew it wouldn't make any difference; Two-Bit still never saw me as any older than 15, which was exactly how old I was when I moved out of Tulsa.

Darry, who had been watching us from the front porch, grinned, then moved toward me.

"God, Pony," Darry said, suddenly hugging me so hard that I could scarcely breathe. "You look so different now..."

"Darry, you just saw me last summer." I said. I know, a year was a long time, but there were people here I hadn't seen in six years, like Two-Bit. A year was nothing. "Is Soda around?"

Why I even asked, I'll never know. At the mere sound of me saying his name, Sodapop came flying out of the house as fast as he could manage. The thing was, I don't think he realized I was so close to the door, and, the next thing I knew, we were both flat on our backs, gasping for breath and staring up at Darry and Two-Bit, who were both watching us with amused expressions.

"Those crutches are dangerous, kid." Two-Bit said, helping Soda to his feet as I staggered to mine. However, Soda wasn't even listening to him.

"Oh, Lord, Pony," he said, grinning his usual maniacal grin. "What did you do to your hair? You didn't try to cut it yourself again, did you? It hasn't looked this rank since Johnny bleached it when you two were up in the church at Windrixville!"

"It wasn't my fault." I grinned apologetically. As Greasers, we were fond of hair. "The hairdresser didn't know what he was doing. I look lousy, I know."

We both grinned again, just happy to finally be seeing each other face-to-face again. Phone conversations just weren't the same.

"Where are the others?" I asked. It was an intelligent question; this house had sort of become the Control Center for our entire gang, seeing as it was the only decent one that any of the gang had. "Steve?"

"Working, I expect." Darry said, leaning back against the door frame. "You know how he practically lives in his garage."

"How about Ben?"

"At Buck's place." Two-Bit chipped in, and I winced inwardly. "Along with Tyler and Gabe, in case you were planning on asking. Probably in the sack with some babes. I'd be there too, but I heard you were coming."

"Oh." I said, recalling the last gang member that hadn't been mentioned. "What about Delilah?"

"In the cooler."

"What?" I demanded. Out of all of us, the person with the best sense of morals and values was probably Delilah, which was to be expected, seeing as she was the only female member who had ever been in our gang, and probably ever would be.

"The court called it 'public disturbances'." Darry said. "Only she wouldn't tell us what exactly that meant."
"From the rumors, she whipped off her shirt in a parade, but, hey, it's rumors." Soda shrugged. "Anyway, Delilah's about the last girl I know who would do something like that."

"Yeah, modest beyond belief." Two-Bit snorted, finally smelling the chocolate cake that was in the oven and slipping past Darry into the house. "I swear, once the gal gets out of jail, I'm going to..."

Whatever Two-Bit was going to do, nobody ever found out, because, at that moment, Buck's T-Bird (it was a different one than the one I was familliar with) came flying into the driveway, going about 20 miles over the speed limit. The doors were flung open, and three guys around our age came piling out.

They were Ben, Gabe, and Tyler, the three guys who had joined our gang since Dally and Johnny died. Of course, I wasn't nearly as close to them as I had been to Johnny or even Dally, but we got along fairly well. They were good men to have around during fights, and they didn't get into too much trouble. Or, at least, not as much as Dally had.

The first, Benjamin Andrews, was what I liked to call Dally's replacement. In some ways, they were very similar, and yet, in other ways, they were nothing alike. However, unlike Dally, I had never really cared for Ben much. If you want to know the truth, he sort of scared me sometimes. He reminded me a lot of a villain from a storybook. He had black tattoos that covered the length of his body, teeth that were rotting and missing, and had a habit of smoking cigars often. He was stout and muscular, with bronzed skin and dark hair that was shaved into a buzz cut. He seldom smiled, and held the cool and indifferent look that made him look very much like a Soc. If he ever did smile, it was to grin nastily at the demise of an enemy. It was quite frightening. And, whereas Ben had never done anything to me, he still gave me the creeps.

Gabriel McClaughen, on the other hand, was a different story. I had never met another man who had more self-confidence than he did. I would even go so far as to say that he was arrogant. Gabe had a certain aura about him that made girls fall at his feet. Soda used to be able to do that, too, when he had that movie star vibe that made the girls flock to him. However, ever since the accident, he sort of lost the movie-star aura, and the girls sort of didn't pay much attention to him after that. I knew it sort of bugged Soda, that Gabe could attract girls like that when he couldn't anymore, but nobody really talked about it. Gabe, all in all, had the appearance of a smug, arrogant movie star who was loving every minute of life. He had gleaming red hair, bronzed skin like Ben's, deep brown eyes like Soda's, and muscles to rival Darry's. All the girls loved him, and he knew it. On any given day, you were very lucky to find him with clothes on. However, despite this, he was a good man in a rumble and knew how to knock some heads together... if he wasn't flirting with girls along the way.

The final member of the entourage, Tyler, was, again, another story. I had never met someone quite like Tyler. For one thing, he had a passion in him, a passion for fighting that I had never seen in any other person before, Greaser or Soc. If I had thought that Steve fought for hatred, I was wrong. It was nothing compared to Tyler. Delilah, who had known Tyler before they both showed up in Tulsa, told me once that it was because his wife, June, had been killed in a gang fight last year, and he was still wrought on getting revenge. You could flip him off and he'd get so pissed that he'd belt you. It was frightening. He never touched any of the gang, though. We were as much as he had when it came to family and friends. Tyler, despite his fiery personality, didn't have much special about him when it came to looks. He was lean and tall, with brown hair and fair skin and a sort of slouching look that was typical for greasers. On his face, however, he wore a savage look that let you know that he was getting revenge for June's death if he had to kill the whole world to do it.

Upon seeing me, they pretended not to make a big deal over it, because that's what they did best; act cool and indifferent, especially Ben. Upon their arrival on the front porch, they clapped me on the back as they passed by; Ben accidentally did it so hard that I nearly fell over.

"Good to see you, kid." Gabe said, taking a swig from the bottle of booze he had pilfered from Buck's place. "It's been six years, ay?"

I nodded, waiting... waiting...

"They got sweet dames at Penn?"
Bingo.

"Um... I suppose..." I said. To tell you the truth, I hadn't done much when it came to looking.

There was a sudden ding from inside the house, and Two-Bit bellowed, "Cake's ready!"

Darry opened his mouth as though he were about to say something but, from inside the house, we could hear the oven door being opened as the three guys inside (Ben, Tyler, and Two-Bit) laid seize to the cake. I had a feeling it would be gone by the time I got into the house.

Darry rolled his eyes, exasperated, then held the door open so Soda could get through. I stepped inside after them, Gabe trailing in my wake, staggering a little thanks to the bottle in his hand.

The furniture inside the house was set up differently, mostly so that Soda could get around, but I still managed to find the kitchen, where, I was surprised to find, there was still cake left.

"For heaven's sake, you're getting it all over the table." Darry said, taking some plates out of the dishrack and throwing them out onto the table. To no avail. Gabe had now helped himself to a piece, totally plate-less.

As I sat there, watching the five boys I called family sitting around the kitchen table of my childhood home eating cake and chugging chocolate milk from the container, it gave me a strange feeling of peace. Despite all the hardships I had gone through since leaving home, I was finally here. Not to stay, but, for one summer, at least, I could be home.

My real problems were yet to come.