Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.

A/N: For those of you who are questioning the development of chemotherapy during the '60s, and if I am correct, please know the facts before you review. I personally had no idea that chemo existed in the '60s, but I researched it. I just know that I'd receive reviews about how chemo wouldn't exist in the '60s if I didn't post this author's note.

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Twenty-three weeks, and Carmella's water broke. The birth was short and anything but sweet, but within five minutes, the first born of their children, Donna Lee Lopez, arrived with a cry that could break glass. Carmella had gasped with relief, sweat dripping down her forehead, and watched as her three pound daughter was rushed off to be taken care of. The survival rate of premature babies in 1950 wasn't very promising, but Donna Lee was persistent, fighting for her own survival.

If only Donna Lee, more commonly called by her father's nickname for her, Sunshine, knew that she'd again be fighting for her life eleven years later, in the year 1961.

"Your daughter has leukemia, Mrs. Lopez."

My mother had sobbed, broke down on the tiled floor of the doctor's office. Although she knew deep down inside her heart that Sunshine was a fighter, she was aware of the damage leukemia brought a child, a damage so severe as death.

Sunshine and I were polar opposites. I had always been on the pessimistic side, seeing the glass half empty instead of half full. I mostly kept to myself and enjoyed leisure activities like reading or even cleaning. I studied hard, was always neat as a pin, and I normally could care less about others.

Despite the differences in personality, Sunshine and I looked exactly alike. We both had black spiral curls up to our shoulders, tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. Our parents had come to the United States from Mexico when they were teenagers, meeting in Oklahoma City in high school, before moving to Tulsa. Although the two of us were often made fun of because of our background, Sunshine didn't let the criticism get to her. She always had more confidence than me, which made her seem more beautiful than I, despite the fact that she was overweight, a trait quite rare for a leukemia patient. She called the extra weight "more to love".

Our mother was a fantastic artist. Hand her anything-a paintbrush, a pencil, or a piece of charcoal, and she got right down to it. She brought everything to life, like the flowers on our kitchen table. After Sunshine's death, my mother requested to spend a few hours alone with her first daughter. She came back out with a final sketch of my seventeen year old sister, from Sunshine's head to her toes, her body still in the casket.

I remembered Sunshine's last words, which were directed at me. I remembered the cheerful tone in her high pitched voice; even on her deathbed my older sister was hopeful and happy. She had placed her palm over my cheek, pulling my face down to her ear, so she could whisper, "Don't let 'em steal my best heels."

That was Sunshine for you. You'd think with a heart so massive and a brain so expansive she'd leave me with some inspiring words of wisdom, but no, I instead received a simple memo to save her favorite shoes.

I had grimaced at her, muttering a cuss word below my breath, out of the hearing ranges of my heartbroken parents. Sunshine had heard me damn well though, and she made it a point to stick her tongue out at me, before closing her dark eyes for the last time.

"What a way to leave," I spat bitterly to myself, an unlit cigarette dangling from my lips as I scattered through the mess on our-well it was mine now-bedroom floor.

A black composition notebook with Sunshine spelt out in all capitals on it caught my eye, and I immediately thought back to our visit to the office supply store a year and a half ago.

School was rounding the corner, and Sunshine wanted to go shopping for supplies. She loved the feeling of writing on crisp, clean paper with a pen at its best. She picked up four notebooks and handed them to my mother, who looked extremely tired for a thirty-five year old.

"C'mon Sunny, do you really need four of these? You know we're tryin' to cut back on the spending money, sweetheart."

Sunshine smiled brightly at my mother, winking at me before sweetly lying. "One for each subject, Mama; History, Arithmetic, English, and Science."

My mother exhaled, but nodded at Sunshine's request. I turned away from them, my stomach twisting in knots of disgust. Sunshine's condition practically made my parents fall at her feet. She got everything she wanted when she wanted it, and despite "loving" my parents, she lied, cheated, and stole from them.

Sunshine and I had never been close, but the sister connection still played its part in our relationship. The only friendship we had was constructed from the basic family rules of defending each other and taking the other away from potentially harmful situations.

I flipped open the notebook, to my sister's dedication page.

Some of the Life of Sunshine Lopez

Written by Sunshine Lopez

Dedicated to whoever the hell finds this thing after I die, so I'm guessing that's you, Ms. Shirley

I snickered again; even though we didn't talk to each other much, Sunshine knew me better than anyone and knew that I was nosy.

I turned the next page, leaning against Sunshine's perfectly made bed.

March 3rd, 1966

Hello there, Diary! I'm Sunshine, your owner. Ha, bet you're feeling a little scared now, huh? A 210 pound girl right in front of you?

Anyway, I've only kept one of these things once, when I was eight years old. I told myself I'd write in it every day for the rest of my life, but I stopped after thirteen days. I'm not promising you that I'll stay loyal to you and write it in you once a day because I know myself better than that. I'll just tell you now that I'm not exactly the type of girl to commit to something. I can barely commit to coming home on time.

Let me set the whole scenario for you. The last time I went in the kitchen to get some food, it was a little past midnight, and I can't remember how long ago that was… The folks are asleep and so is little darling Shirley, who's snoring like a hog.

I couldn't help but laugh at Sunshine's humor.

I'm too giddy to fall asleep tonight, maybe it's because Mr. Stanley put me next to Sodapop Curtis in History today. He's a real looker, and we've been pretty good friends since the beginning of the year. I've been crushing on him for a long while now, since September. I know his best pal Steve cracks jokes about my weight behind my back, but I could care less about what he has to say; to me it's Soda's opinion that counts, and I never see him laughing about the jokes.

On a more serious note, Mom had a discussion with one of my doctors today. He recommended chemotherapy, which isn't really out of the ordinary, but this time, my mother actually listened to him. She told me when I got home from school that she was working extra shifts over at the hospital, and that my dad would work more shifts as a substitute teacher at the grade school in the next town.

I'm not really rooting for the chemo. At this point, my life is take it or leave it. Why would I want to put something away for a little bit of time if it's only going to come back when I least expect and want it? I sure like living, but the truth is, what's worth living for? My folks can't afford to send me to college, and nobody wants to date a girl the size of their parents combined.

The truth about chemo is that it can make you gain a lot of weight, or lose a lot of weight because you lose your appetite due to the nausea and vomiting. My mom told me today that I should do it for the latter.

Donna Lee Lopez, AKA Sunshine

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I promise, there will be more of the gang and less of Shirley in the next chapter. Shirley is not the protagonist in this story, she is just the one reading the diary of Sunshine. Please review!