Yay! I present to you my very first fanfiction EVER! Hopefully you enjoy it! It's just a random idea that sort of came into my head… oh well, I hope you'll review!

I do not own The Outsiders.

...

The booze leaves a warm happy feeling in my head, like it really is in the clouds. I think of Darry and know I look all wrong with the goofy grin I'm sure I have on my face.

I know very well that Darry's going to kill me. I wasn't even supposed to be out tonight, let alone drinking my head off. With the guys he had explicitly told me to stay away from at that. But the booze diminishes those worries, leaving me to have fun. And that's exactly what I do.

I find myself laughing at everything, courtesy of the drinks. The bag of M&Ms Lewis Clarke tries to open that end up scattered on the sidewalk. Daniel Smith as he stumbles over his own feet. Chris Lowell as he flips off passing cars, laughing every time and having the time of his life.

Clarke has to keep a firm grip on my elbow so that I don't topple over. He tells me my alcohol tolerance is embarrassing - three drinks had sent me over the moon. I don't mention to him that I haven't touched a beer in more than three years. Instead I burst out into a fit of loud guffaws.

"Never thought I'd see it," Smith slurs, grinning at me. "Ponyboy Curtis is absolutely totaled. Wonder what his brothers will think."

I nearly trip again, this time catching myself. "Don't tell them," is all I manage to him. Smith gives me the thumbs up. He isn't exactly sober himself - six beers and he had been gone.

I think back to Smith's car abandoned in the road by the bar. Every single one of us had been too tipsy to drive it.

"I'll just come back and - and - get it tomorrow." Smith had said drowsily while he leaned heavily on the hood, unable to hold himself up.

Clarke then stepped up and laid a sluggish punch to his shoulder. "Sides, it's a nice car anyways, Smithie. Don't want anyone pukin their guts out in it."

So we trip down the road in the pitch dark without a ride. We should be worried about socs catching us without a single switchblade, or at least the fuzz finding us while we were drunk. But the booze had washed every worry away. I'm all bubbly, and the ground is spinning. Since when did the ground spin like that?

I shrug it off. Maybe I'd find out later, when the cloud that's in my brain clears out. Right now I need to focus on getting home.

...

"I have a tip for you," Lowell says just as we approach the house. He's the least drunk out of all of us. Hence the tolerance he's always bragged about. "Just let him yell. Cause oh, he will be yelling when he sees this mess." Lowell knows Darry because his brother used to play football with him.

I nearly fall over the curb when we near it. Smith grabs me by the forearm before I hit the ground, though. "Huh?" I mutter.

Lowell only grins at me maliciously. "Oh, are you in for it. You do know that your big brother is in there, up on his high horse waiting for you to get home right? And you'd better believe he's gonna come crashing down. Hard."

I don't laugh. Suddenly I feel cold, freezing cold. The wind is whipping right through my t shirt. I realize for the first time that I'm not wearing any jacket. The booze has started to wear off, and suddenly I feel nauseous. I'd forgotten all about Darry.

"Oh," is all I have to say. I sling open the gate then glance nervously back at Lowell. He's wearing a smug smile but his eyes shine with pity.

"Good luck, kid." he says and ambles away alongside Smith and Clarke.

…

I almost hate Lowell for leaving me at Darry's mercy. He was right in saying that Darry would be mad - in fact that's an understatement.

I have to walk slow to make sure I don't trip over the door on my way in. My big brother is there alright. I find him standing next to the phone. He looks as though he wants to pick it up and call someone, but he's hesitant. I realize with regret that Soda is nowhere to be seen. My only hope.

The door slams shut with much more force than I had intended. Darry's head shoots up immediately at the noise. I don't think I've ever seen him look so mad. Regretfully, I'm reminded of the night bolted off to the park. I wonder if he could ever be angry enough to hit me again.

"What the hell," Darry chides. It's not a question. "Where have you been? It's three in the damn morning. You weren't even supposed to be out. I wasn't home."

I find myself scowling. "I don't need a babysitter. I can handle myself." Contrary to popular belief…

"You didn't answer my question." I don't say anything, and Darry wrinkles up his nose. "Is that alcohol?"

I try to muster up a lie and say no, but it's too late. The odds aren't exactly in my favor, either - I know I must reek of beer. So I stay silent. I can feel the warm and happy fuzziness of the booze returning. A smile pulls at my lips.

"Are you drunk?" My brother's voice is saying, raising.

"Drunk isn't exactly the word for it," I protest. "I prefer the term intoxicated."

"God Ponyboy, when will you learn. I was about to call the police for you, goddammit. You had Soda worried out of his mind. I sent him to bed, he was about to be sick. Pretty soon you're gonna run out of get out of jail free cards." Darry's lethal voice yells.

I look down to the floor - it's spinning in a pleasant circle. Round and round and round. "But I haven't yet have I? I'm fine."

I can't seem to keep my eyes focused on Darry. He floats around the kitchen. "No you're not." his voice shakes with anger. "Get that through your goddamned thick skull will you? You're not invincible - you're gonna realize that sooner or later. Let's not have that be in a hospital bed or in jail, huh?"

He has once again defeated me. I flounder for a moment as I try to find the right words. "I was just having a little fun. Soda's done it before."

But when Soda did it mom and dad were here to deal with him, huh?

Darry grumbles. I think he caught what I meant with my words. Suddenly I feel guilty - I can tell he's tired, that he's been up all night waiting for a phone call or for me to come home.

"Who gave you the beer? Two-Bit?" Darry grills.

"What? No. Not him."

"Then who?"

I hesitate for a moment, knowing Darry will be mad if I tell him I'd been out with Clarke and Smith and Lowell. He's never liked them, always saying that they're a bad influence. "I got it at a bar. Obviously," I spat at him. "With a few friends of mine. Am I not allowed to have my own friends now? Is that it?"

Darry gets loud again. "You know damn well that's not it. Now lock that door and get your ass in here - it'll be stayin for awhile."

I don't move. "You can't ground me. This is my own problem. Not your's."

Darry guffaws loudly, looking shocked at my statement. Immediately I regret ever saying anything. Insert foot into mouth. "Oh, it's not my problem right now is it? But I assure you it'll be my problem when I have to drag you out of the gutter, bail you out of a cell. It'll be all my problem then, won't it?"

Boy oh boy, is Darry pissed. I smile ready to make peace, but Darry takes my smile wrong. "You think this is funny?" he hollers.

I recoil. I can't find anything to say so Darry continues "I bet you wouldn't be laughing if a social worker had been there tonight and seen you. I bet you wouldn't be laughing if you were in a boys home right about now. Would you?"

Ouch. Once again, big brother Darry takes out Ponyboy in the ultimate knock down. I stand there for a moment, listening to the sound of my heavy breathing. Then I say quietly "Well then maybe your problem with me would be solved."

I don't wait for Darry to say anything back. Without even looking at him I retreat to the bedroom, feeling tired and disgusted. I plop down onto the bed and fall into a fitful sleep.

…

So what do you think? Did I do good? I hope it wasn't too dramatic.

So, let's see how many reviews the very first chapter of my very first fanfiction can get!