I'm back. You know you missed me. Well, actually, I haven't left, just with this story.

I should explain this story, I guess. It's not a full legnth story, rather a little in between thing. Hence the name 'Intermission.'
It basically talks about the time while Naomi's in London, and Sodapop's in Tulsa. (The latter of which you must have already figured out.) There's going to be a full story after this one. Don't be surprised if this doesn't even reach ten chapters. I should knock on wood right now because, knowing me, it'll get out of hand.

But I don't plan on having it very long. It features our darling gang of greasers, and Naomi, a little Ashley possibly, and, of course, everyone's favorite... Jon. I'm sorry, he's my plot toy.

Without further ado... I give you, INTERMISSION.

(Wow, that sounds ironic. If you ever hear that at a stage production, get up and leave.)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders (yet) and I don't own the musical Oklahoma. (Nor do I ever want to.)

My hand hung loosely over the paper. My lifelong ambition of being an Opera singer was dragging my hand to the left, influencing me to check off the box I'd waited sixteen years to check off. But some unknown force was trying to make me choose the 'Musical Theatre' option, and it was getting hard to refuse.

I resignedly stood up, and looked out onto the wet London street. My mother told me that there would be a lot of rain in England, and By Lordy, she didn't lie.

I decided to seek help from a professor. As much asI wanted to sing Opera, it had started to lose some of it's appeal to me, not to mention that my three other roommates were all taking Musical Theatre. Charlotte, who was fourteen, had a very soft, sweet, girlish voice. She really reminded me of Ponyboy. She had very thick brown hair, and innocent greyish green eyes. She was very quiet, as a rule, but I could sometimes get her talking. I had yet to see her act, but she seemed the type who concealed her talents up until an opportune moment. Joanne, however, reminded me strongly of Sodapop, and I didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse. She even looked like him, save for her eyes were blue. She had a very powerful voice for her age, which was fifteen. I don't mean to sound concieted, but I was the only other person I could remember who had a voice as strong at that age.

Margey was quite the character. She was every bit a diva. She had green eyes and light brown hair, and her voice was soft and charming. I had no doubt that she could act. I also had no doubt that our personalities would clash more than once in our time here.

Yet, while their voices were incredibly good, and strong, none of them had the range that I did, therefore, they obviously had never given Opera two thoughts.

I found Mrs. Poligny playing the piano absentmindedly in a studio, and had half a mind not to disturb her. But as I turned to walk away, she called out to me.

"Naomi, dear, come here. I'm not busy."

How she knew I waslooking for her, I'll never know.

"Hi, Mrs. Poligny... I was just wondering... I was looking for advice... I'm rather torn between two of my application choices, see-"

"Ah, we get so many of you. What choices?"

"Opera and Musical Theatre."

"Oh, yes. So similar, yet so different."

"Right. Have you... do you have any thoughts?"

"I'd rather like to hear you sing."

I'd been expecting it, yet I hadn't. So I was taken aback.

"You want me to sing... here? Now?"

"That would be the obvious choice, dear."

"Alright... what song?"

"I'd like you to sing a song from a musical."

My head was blank. I didn't know any songs from musicals.

"I don't know... any, really..."

"Don't be silly, dear, everyone knows some. Even if you don't know you know it."

"I don't know..."

"Sweetheart, you're from the South, aren't you?"

"Yeah, how'd you-"

"Where am I from?"

"What? Britain."

"How do you know?"

"Your accent... oh..."

"Yes, my little Southern Belle, would you happen to be from Oklahoma?"

"Yes, actually, I'm a Tulsa native."

"Good. Then we'll sing something from Oklahoma."

"You mean, a folk song?"

"No, dear, from the musical."

I nodded, but I'd never heard of such a thing in my life. It didn't take her long to see that.

"Alright, then," She turned to her piano, "I'll play through it first."

The song was called, 'Can't Say No' and it was actually fun. I'd never sung anything in this style before, but I found it was sinfully easy, and sounded good as well. Once it was done, Mrs. Poligny rested her hands on the piano lid.

"You are possibly the most contained Southern girl I've ever met."

"Really?"

"Did you listen to the lyrics, dear?"

"Well... yes."

"You sang them as though you were the kind of girl who can't say no."

I was about to both thank her and question her, when she continued,

"You sang as though you were the type of girl who would say 'No Thank You.' "

That shut me up right fast.

"Queen of the Night." She said promptly.

"Sing it?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"You assume I know it?"

"Well, do you?"

"...Yes, but-"

"Well, then, I assumed right.Quickly, if you wouldn't mind."

I had almost forgotten how I enjoyed opera. It was like home to me, and it didn't presenta challenge. It wasn't that I didn't I didn't want to accept the challenge that Musical Theatre would offer, I just didn't want to have to fufill it infront of everyone who already knew how.

"That, my dear, was exquisite."

I breathed out in relief. I had feared I'd come across shaky on the series of quick high notes, but Mrs. Poligny hadn't noticed.

"How do you feel when you sing it?"

I shrugged.

"Like... the Queen of the Night."

"How do you feel when you sing 'Can't Say No'?"

"Like I'm lying."

"Try the last bit, then."

I sighed and read the music over her shoulder as she played.

"I can't resist a Romeo, in a sombrero and chaps,
Soon as I sit on their laps, something inside me snaps,
I can't say no!"

"I can tell you don't feel the way this song implies, but By God, you'll have to try."

I became defensive.

"My voice teacher told me that I shouldn't sing something I can't feel."

"Did you tell her that real artists do it all the time?"

"Yes, and she said that that was the reason that they were famous and I was just learning. Apparently, there's a fine line."

She smiled at me, clearly enjoying herself.

"Welcome to that fine line, Naomi."

As I walked back to my room, I was silently arguing with myself. I realized how I came across to Mrs. Poligny. I seemed like I couldn't do it. I felt like I'd failed. She must think I'm not capable, or I don't understand. Does she think I'm not good enough? What would she think if I just signed up for opera? Would it be for the better, or would that be giving up? Does she expect me to give up? She must. She'd be shaking her head and smiling. I'm not giving her that satisfaction.

I angrily checked off 'Musical Theatre' and deposited my form to the front desk in the main building.

Not a week later, I found out that Mrs. Poligny was putting on a production of Oklahoma, apparently on a whim that no one knew where it came from. Save for me, of course, I knew where it came from.

Preparing for my audition, I became tired and decided to go in for bed early. As I drifted off to sleep, my mind wandered to a subject I'd managed to avoid as best I could for a while. What I'd left behind in Tulsa. My parents faces andmy friends faces pained me, and I missed them, but of course, thinking about Sodapop was the hardest. I wanted to know if he moved on or not, but I could hardly write to ask him. I hadn't been able to write him at all, the words just wouldn't come.

The thought of him with someone else was agonizing, but soon the extremely powerful drug called sleep put me out of my misery for the night.