I can see her lying back in a satin dress
In the room where you do what you don't confess.
Sundown, you better take care
If I find you've been creepin' 'round my back stairs.

You feel dirty. You hate yourself even more than usual for what you did, even though you know it's as much her fault as it is yours. Hell, it's even more her fault. She's the one who came onto you. She knew her guy was one of your buddies. She knew you were drunk and wouldn't do anything to stop it.

You're at home now. You've showered twice, but it still feels like there's a thin film of something on you. You're still catching whiffs of her perfume. If you hadn't already puked, you would have stolen some of your parent's liquor and drank until you were sick. But liquor is part of what got you into this mess anyway. You flop down on your bed and stare at the ceiling.

You just wish she would have taken that godforsaken Saint Christopher medallion off. Not having to stare at it the whole time would have helped things.

XXX

You've known her ever since you were little kids. She lived two houses down from you, and her parents were drunks just like yours. Her parents seemed to have an endless energy when they were drinking, though. They'd fight all night long, while yours would usually pass out in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes she'd sneak out of her house and climb through your window, and the two of you would sleep on your bare mattress on the floor until morning. But you were just kids then. And even though sometimes you imagined growing up, marrying her, and running away and having a perfect life, it was as innocent as could be. But you went different ways as you got older. She got loud and crass and easy like all the other girls from the North side of town. And you, well, you just got quiet. You knew by your twelfth birthday that the days of her sneaking in through your window were long gone. You were nothing alike. It was by pure coincidence that you shared some of the same friends. It was also a coincidence, albeit an unfortunate one, that she started dating one of your best buddies.

She started flirting with you long before he went to jail this time. You didn't think much of it. She flirted with everyone when Dallas wasn't looking. You couldn't blame her. He didn't exactly treat her well, and he hit on other girls all the time. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering if they were really a couple. But then they'd go upstairs at Buck's and not come downstairs until the next afternoon, or they'd cozy up at the movies, and you knew. You were just one of the many boys she liked to toy with. Her name came up all the time in bull sessions, and the other girls called her a slut behind her back. But you knew something they didn't about her. You had those memories of her being just as young and scared as you were. Maybe she was all those things people said she was, but she didn't mean to be. She couldn't help being easy any more than you could help being jumpy and shy.

When she pulled you aside last night and started coming on strong, you couldn't stop yourself from going along.

XXX

"You grew up real cute, you know that?" she asks.

You smile and shake your head. You can feel yourself blushing even though you're drunk. You almost never go out drinking, but you were feeling lonely and didn't want to turn down Two-Bit's invitation. But you ended up losing him about half an hour in, and you still don't know where he is.

"Nah," you say. Your eyes involuntarily drift down to her chest. "You're the cute one."

She laughs so hard that some of her drink spills out of her cup and onto the floor.

"God, I should have just dated you. Would have been a hell of a lot easier, you know? You ain't gettin' jailed and leavin' me all by my lonesome all the time like he is."

The way she says "he" has so much bite to it. She's angry with Dallas, and you don't know if you should stand up for your buddy, or go with her anger. You don't know if it's because you're sixteen and still a virgin or because you're drunk, but for once, you're thinking with your dick.

"I'm also not half a mile away with no car," you say.

She laughs again, and more of her drink spills.

"Remember how I used to sneak into your house and sleep in your bed at night?" she asks.

You nod. "Your parents are worse drunks than mine."

She leans in close and kisses your neck.

"You wanna do that again? For old time's sake?"

You're too stunned to speak, but she takes your silence as a yes. You would have said yes anyway. Next thing you know, she has you by the hand and is leading you upstairs. You don't even try to fight.

XXX

She's wearing nothing but her slip, and she lazily props herself up on her elbow. You hate seeing her like that, and you hate that you're in your underwear. You're hungover and fumbling as you try to put your clothes on as fast as you can.

"Don't be embarrassed. I saw you naked last night, you know," she says.

You can feel the redness creeping into your cheeks as you put on your shoes.

"It's just sex," she says.

"Just sex?" you ask. "Just sex? I helped you cheat on one of my buddies. He's gonna kill us both."

"I won't tell if you won't."

The sight of her makes you sick. You pick your jacket up off the floor.

"I've gotta go."

XXX

It's dark outside. You've been in bed for hours, thinking about what you've done. Your parents woke up a few hours ago, and judging by what you can hear through the paper-thin walls, they're drunk again.

You think you're hearing things at first, but after the third time, there's no denying it. You roll out of bed, walk over to the window, and pull up the shade.

"Sylvia?" you ask once you've opened the window. "What're you doing here?"

"My folks are drunk," she says.

"Mine too," you say.

"Can I come in?" she asks.

Against your better judgment, you hold out your hand.

S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Gordon Lightfoot owns Sundown.

This is just one of my ideas about what happened between Johnny and Sylvia. Reviews always make my day! :D