Epilogue

I don't own the Outsiders, S.E. Hinton does, blahblahblah, I'm just playing with these wondrous, yummy boys. Ta-ta!

Three months after the book ends…

"Heads up, Pony!" I hear Two-Bit yell cheerfully as he threw our old football up into the air, missing Darry's grasping hands by a clear mile. I looked up just in time to see the football spiraling down, about to slug me in the head. I quickly rolled to the side, covering my book protectively with both hands, shielding it with my body. I had gone through two copies of "Old Yeller" before this one, thanks to Two-Bit and Sodapop. One, because Two-Bit and Steve thought it would be fun to see how fast a book covered in chocolate milk and waffle mix would burn. Thathad been an interesting one to explain to Mr. Symes, holding up a book covered in dried, blood-looking syrup and crusty waffle mix as I babbled on, getting more and more uncomfortable when he made no move to stop my word-vomit. He forgave me, though. He had been really nice to him after I had turned in my theme, all 192 pages of it. His jaw had practically hit the ground the day I turned that sucker in. Boy Howdy, it felt good when I learned I had passed. Darry was happy, too. Mr. Symes even smiled when I showed him my mangled book. I guess he felt that he could sympathize with me, but he was wrong. Nobody, not even Darry or Sodapop knew how I felt.

The other time was thanks Sodapop bein' stupid, as usual. He started to read it, got bored about a minute after he started it, and tossed it on the floor of the car garage, forgetting about it right away. I found it the day after covered in car oil and grime, torn in two. Darry came home the next day with a new copy, and promptly said that whoever ruined this book would be eating garbage for a month, his eyes dead serious, massive arms flexing as he crossed them across his chest, staring us all down. So far, no one had touched it. But if Two-Bit had his way, it wouldn't be in one piece for very much longer. With a thump, the brown leather ball hit the lot ground exactly where I had been two seconds ago, bouncing, then rolling to a stop by a broken beer bottle, probably leftover from the last rumble or somethin' like that. I thought of the last rumble I had been in, trying to ignore the burning tightness I felt in my chest whenever I thought of that horrible night, almost 4 months ago.

"Glory, Two-Bit! What are you tryin' to do, kill me?" I complained, rubbing my head ruefully where I'd hit it against a broken tire, trying to fix my hair from where it had fallen from its care comb-flip. Now I looked like a blasted girl, my almost-brown hair curling just above my green eyes. This morning I had combed it just right so's the blond part was hidden, but now they were sittin' on top my head, proudly showing themselves to the world. I looked as if I had let a blindfolded, reeling pickled Two-Bit dye my hair. In the dark. Oh, real tuff, I thought, glaring at Two-Bit as I stood up.

"Sorry," He said, not sounding the least bit sorry at all as he darted over to pick up the football and ruffle my hair, chuckling as he dodged my half-hearted punch. Grumbling, I picked up my book and moved to sit by Soda's feet, over by where he was working on a Corvair that had to be at least as old as my dad had been.

"Heya Pony," Soda greeted me, not even looking up from the engine, coated up to his elbows in some kind of thick black oil as he worked intently over the mangled piece of car. It was his and Steve's latest project, and they were determined to drag race it next summer. Boy howdy, Darry had not been happy to hear that one of Soda's twisted ideas as of late. His red-brown hair glinted with gold in the dying summer light, the sun catching off the silver showing through the car's paint job, setting his hair glowing.

Steve was working on the underbelly of the car, skirting back and forth between it and a toolbox as he rolled unevenly on a broken dolly they had found in the junkyard down the street from the movie house. Reaching for a wrench, he glanced up then looked back down, not bothering to say hi, his upper lip curling into a snarl that was hardly noticeable, but I saw it. Steve's dislike for me had run thick and deep and non-stop since their deaths. I think he blamed me for what happened. But no matter how much I wanted to change the past, I couldn't. Setting my book down on the rusting hood, I cleared my throat and shifted nervously, trying to get up the courage to say what had been on my mind for almost a week now. Soda, looking up, saw my nervous face and stopped working right away, coming over to sling his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

"What's rattling your cage, Pone?" Soda murmured, turning my head so he could look me straight in the eyes, his face drawn into lines of concern and worry, his hold on my chin gentle, his fingers warm and callused from long hours working over engines at the DX. Ever since…ever since theydied, Soda and Darry had been treating me like I was a blasted china doll or somethin', skirting around me as if I'd break if they said the wrong thing or made a false move. Standing up, I brushed off my jeans and cleared my throat again, trying to speak without my voice shooting up two octaves.

"Uh, guys?" I asked, trying not to squeak when Two-Bit and Darry stopped playing and came to stand in front of me, concern written all over their faces as well. Steve wheeled himself out from under the car, wiping his hands on a rag. His eyes slightly curious, he came over and sat on the rusty hood, his dark eyes masked as he tossed the rag over his shoulder and crossed his arms, looking every inch the teenage mechanic he was.

"Yes, Pony?" Darry asked gently, clapping a meaty hand on my shoulder, his arm muscles tensing under his ripped muscle-man shirt, his jeans jacket draped over his arm. I relaxed, knowing that he'd back me up in almost anything, so long as it wasn't illegal or real dangerous or nothing. Darry and I had become much better brothers ever since Soda broke down about our constant arguing. Now Darry and I were the ones that held each other up, right along with Sodapop.

"I- I think we should go visit their graves," I said quietly, knowing that they all could hear me. Beside me, Soda stiffened, and then hugged me tight. I melted into his arms, happy for the human contact. Resting my head on his shoulder, I breathed in the scent of engine fluid and cars and hair oil. Slightly calmer, I let go of him, stepping back slightly and jamming my hands into my pockets, shifting from foot to foot as I scanned the guy's reactions.

"You guys dig?" I asked, looking at everybody else as I ran a shaking hand through my ruined hair. Please, please do this, for me,I silently begged, plucking a cigarette out of my pocket and lighting up. The familiar gesture calmed my nerves some, but my hands were still shaking.

"Sure, little buddy," Dar said, placing a massive hand on my head. "We'll go early tomorrow, before work starts." Two-Bit groaned slightly at the mention of an early wake-up call, but caught my eye and smiled slightly, quirking his eyebrow in his signature Two-Bit move. Steve said nothing, but I guessed he'd come along as well, just because he didn't want to be left behind. I looped my arm through Soda's, Soda put his arm around Steve's shoulder while Darry did the same to me, and Two-Bit being Two-Bit, jumped on Darry's back, whooping like a cowboy.

"Yee, doggie!" he cried, pretending to whip Darry with a crop, the football tucked under one of his arms, his eyes twinkling merrily as he held on to Darry's neck in a chokehold, laughing merrily as he lightly kicked Darry's thighs.

"Your doggies are gonna be cryin' in a minute if you don't stop kickin' me, and loosen your hold on my poor neck," Darry grumbled, but didn't buck him off, probably not wanting to break our moment, one of the first truly light-hearted ones we'd had since they died. We left for the home together, an unbreakable link.

The next day….

I shivered in the cool air, trying to force my teeth not to chatter as we stepped onto the dewy grass, placing my hands on the metal latch into the graveyard. It was real small, but it was the only one in town. Broken bottle an' weed butts littered the sidewalk and streets. I didn't know what time it was exactly, but it was real early. The sun hadn't even risen yet, and the sky was a light grey color, like Sodapop's eyes when he was real mad.

I felt something tap me on the shoulder. Turning around, I came face-to-face with my blue-lipped brother.

"G-g-go," Soda said, shaking slightly from the cold, his breath puffing out in chilly clouds from between his teeth as he raised his hands and nudged me forward, pleading with me silently, wearing his kicked puppy-dog look he only uses when he really, really wants something.

"I'm going, I'm going, keep your hair on," I snapped, lifting the cold latch and swinging open the gate, wincing at the squeaking noise it made. Tip-toeing in with the rest of the gang on our heels, I clicked on my flashlight and swept it over the graves, looking for my best friend's name.

"Look, I'm just as much for breaking the law as the next JD," Two-Bit said from the back, his lips blue, "But this is one thing that I wouldn't mind doing legally. Why can't we walk in like normal people at a normal hour in the day?" he huffed, jumping up and down to stay warm and accidentally hitting Darry in the back of the head with one of his arms. Darry seized his arm, coolly staring him down, perfectly unaffected by the cold. I had always suspected that Darry was part space heater, and this proved my theory. I could almost feel the heat radiating off him through his leather jacket.

"Watch yourself," Darry growled, uncoiling himself to his full height and moving to stand by me, planting his feet. Two-Bit made a face at his back, sticking his tongue out childishly, then looked to Soda for the answer expectantly. Boy Howdy, It's colder than it was in Windrixville, I thought as i shifted back and forth for warmth, pressing my hand over the pang of emptiness I felt behind my breastbone, where my bleeding, torn heart was.

"B-because w-we j-just –c-c-can't," Soda stuttered, glaring slightly at Two-Bit and huddling closer to me for warmth, blowing on his fingertips. I smiled at my brothers, glad they were here with me. I knew they would take care of me no matter what. A warm feeling bloomed under my ribs, keeping me warm.

Grabbing Soda's frozen hand and Darry's large, warm one, I tossed the flashlight to Steve, not bothering to say anything. Soda and Steve looked at each other, talking with their eyes. Soda seemed to be pleading for Steve to be quiet. Steve's eyes hardened slightly but he nodded, and swept the beam of golden light on the stones again, still looking. Moving forward, I crouched down, running my fingers over the cold earth. Brushing my fingers across the cold stones, I shuddered slightly. Ice was gathering on the edges, making the oldest, rotting stones wet and white with frost. So many people,I thought, looking up at Darry and Soda. Someday it'll be me an' Darry an' Soda here. This thought made me sad, so standing up, I quickly moved on, trying to keep my mind busy by looking. A gasp from Steve, of all people, had us moving quickly to stand by him.

"What is it?" I whispered as loud as I dared, almost afraid something was gonna pop out at us from behind a gravestone or somethin', like always happens in the old horror movies we always watch on Halloween, at the Drive-in. Steve said nothing but turned to look at me, his eyes full of grief. Soda was the one who spoke up and told us.

"It's Dally." He said, moving to stand closer to me, his voice uncharacteristically serious. Falling to my knees, I reached my hand out to brush my fingertips across the cool stone, a metal plaque set in the middle. A small bird peered up at me, its head cocked, its stone wings spread, as if it was getting ready to fly. That was Dallas, I thought with a sigh. He was made for something bigger, and he wanted to fly and be a part of it.

"I- we- they didn't even have a funeral for him," I whispered, straining to read the bronze metal in the weak, watery light. Clicking on the flashlight, Steve shone the light onto the stone. Ducking my head closer, I realized there were only a few words on the stone. It said:

Dallas Winston

1948-1965

He died gallant

I could feel tears in my eyes as I shakily righted myself, grasping Darry for balance.

"They- they used my words," I heard myself whisper, in a voice so different from my own if I hadn't heard myself saying the words i wouldn't have believed I was saying them, reaching blindly for Soda's hand. I felt Darry's big hand gently smooth my hair back, running his fingers through the strands.

"Yeah, baby, they did." he murmured, his voice inviting. Clearing my throat, I looked up at the gang, at my family. Two-Bit, huddled in his leather jacket and Mickey Mouse shirt, looked up and gave me a weak smile.

"Well boy, at least they honored him right," He said, nodding slightly at the grave. I felt myself nod back, automatically. This much was true, I knew that honest. Many JDs or hoods without families never got real proper burials. But Dally did. Dally deserved that much. To the left of Dally's grave, another, smaller grave stood slightly crooked, calling to me. I scanned it over once as I approached it. A small angel called to me with cupped hands, his face serene and beautiful. Stepping, I again fell to my knees. I felt a lump climb up in my throat for the second time that morning as I realized that they had put Johnny next to Dally. It was ironic that Dally would never be parted from the one he loved after he no longer cared.

Johnny Cade

1949-1965

Stay Gold

Standing up again, I looked at Darry, feeling the questions overwhelm my eyes. Darry looked as mystified as I felt, though. Soda, however, shifted side to side, avoiding my eyes.

"Soda…" I said, stepping closer and catching his arm, ignoring his weak struggles. "Sodapop Curtis, do you know anything about this?" I demanded, quirking my eyebrow up in Two-Bit's patented move. Slightly red-faced, Soda looked around, and then nodded quickly, the tips of his ears pink. I smacked his arm lightly, a fond smile pulling up the corners of my mouth. Boy howdy, I had the bestest brother in the world.

"What did you do?" I asked, slightly enjoying his discomfort, so rare. Soda was confidant and almost never regretted what he did. Unless he was drunk, but then he hardly even remembered what he did unless it came back and bit him in the ass. Soda, obviously having an internal battle between being tuff and showing his love for his gang, blurted out, "B-because Johnny deserved better, and I wanted to make sure he got it," Soda said, trying not to fidget. I felt my eyes soften, and I pulled Soda in for a crushing hug. I whispered into his neck, "Thank you." Nodding, he pulled me tighter briefly, then let me go, smiling sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Two-Bit said nothing, but flipped out his new knife, another jet handled tuff butterfly knife. Kneeling at Dally's grave, he turned his head slightly, sizing up the grave, and dug the point of his knife into the inscription. Darry started forward to stop him, but I grabbed his arm, shaking my head slightly when he looked back at me. Somethin' inside me, probably my heart, told my brain that this was the way Two-Bit wanted to say his goodbye. After he finished carving, Two-Bit rested his head atop the grave for a moment, his eyes closed and his lips moving silently.

Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Two-Bit moved on to Johnny's grave, doing the same thing as he had done to Dal's. I thought later that we probably looked a sight, a muscular man, and a handsome, movie-star boy, his dreamer brother, and his car-crazy best friend all leaning over a young man in a Mickey Mouse shirt carving words into the graves of two dead JDs with a black butterfly knife. Glory, we must have looked like we were off our rockers. But that was fine. Dally and Johnny deserved this, which I knew for certain.

Finally finished, Two-Bit stood up and dusted off his hands, looking faintly proud of himself. I knelt down to see what he had scratched into the bronzed plaques, brushing off some of the carved metal shards. On both stones, he had carefully carved,

Their real family loved them.

"Oh, Two-Bit," I whispered, tears clogging my voice as I hugged him, breathing the scent of Two-Bit, so vibrant, so alive. He smelled like week-old beer and chocolate cake and leather and home. He smelled like family. Stiffening for a second, Two-Bit hesitantly hugged me back. I hugged him tighter, trying to etch this into my memory. I smiled when I felt his arms wind around me, holding me close. This was a gold moment, I knew.

I could see Johnny smiling at me quietly, his black eyes sparkling, his untidy mop of black hair falling over his eyes as he watched us, a faint saddness in his face. That's gold, Pone, right there. I heard him say, his voice happy, full of warmth and love for his family, for us. I saw Dallas as well, joining Johnny in the abandoned lot. looked at Johnny. My heart ached, I missed him so much. Do you regret it? I heard my dream-self ask, looking at Johnny through tear-hazed eyes. His reply was instant and sure. No. Never. Those little kids had more to live for. I smiled at him, turning to look at Dally. Plopping down on a tire, Dally light up, patting next to him for Johnny to sit down as well. Johnny sat down, raking his hand through his hair and looking up at Dal as if he had hung the stars and moon. Dally; however, was looking at me, his eyes dissecting me, pulling me apart with every flicker of the cold brown color, that was slowly melting into a warm, inviting deepness. Looking at me sternly, he jabbed me with a glowing finger, punctuating his words with a poke each time. Listen, kid. You gotta take care of them. That's what family does for each other, you hear? Keep them gold as well. I could tell he cared by the way his eyes checked carefully over the gang, making sure they were still alright; that they didn't have any injures or scars. I didn't have the heart to tell him that some scars were inside, and didn't fade with time. I nodded, smiling at Johnny and Dal. I promise. I'll keep them gold.

"It's gonna be okay, Pony. We're gonna be okay." Two-Bit choked, wiping his wet eyes on his jacket sleeve. I nodded, backing away and wiping my eyes, too. I looked up at my family. Darry was smiling, his eyes sparkling. Sodapop was talking quietly to Steve, who was looking down at his feet, his eyes flickering up to me every so often, chagrin twisting his expression. Some people never change, I thought with a sigh. Looking up to the East, I smiled and nudged Darry's arm. He looked up, alert. The sun was coming over the horizon.

"Look," I whispered, also tapping Two-Bit and Soda on the arms, dragging them with me to the fence. "The sun is rising!" Moving to the edge of the little graveyard, I linked my fingers in the cool metal fence to watch the sunrise. The purples and pinks and oranges painted the sky, with a small strip of fiery gold lining the clouds. It was like Johnny and Dally were sayin' their goodbyes, in the only way they could.

"Wow- it's so…pretty," Two-Bit said in awe. I smiled, looking over at his amazed face. Beside him, Darry wore a similar expression. Soda, however, was looking at me, his face lit up by the rising sun, by the promise of a new day.

"You glow, Pony," he said quietly, putting his arm 'round my shoulders. "You glow, same as the sunrise." I smiled, looking back at the little city that was slowly waking up with the sunrise. Soon cars would be bustling down the streets, people would be laughing, and the day would begin. As we left the graveyard, I whispered to Johnny, to the sunrise, "I told ya, Johnnycake. It's gold." And as we left, I reached out and grabbed Steve's hand, ignoring the surprised look on his face that was slowly turning into a smile.

"I'll race you guys!" I said as soon as we cleared the graveyard, breaking into a sprint, feeling the sun hit my face and the cool wind in my hair. Laughing madly, I took off, running as hard as I could, heading for home. I heard their footsteps follow, along with the sound of voices raised, the air thick with the sound of my gang cussing each other out and laughing their heads off. We couldn't control the outcome of the battles between the Socs and us. We were looked down on, hated and ignored. But we had each other, and for now, that was enough.

Yeah, we were poor and unschooled and street-wise.

Yeah, we shop-lifted and swore and picked up girls and drank.

Yeah, we fought and carried heaters and snuck into movies and dropped out of school.

But that was okay.

We also looked out for each other.

We helped each other out, and stood up for one another.

We wiped each other's tears and mended each other's broken hearts.

We cared for each other.

Once we were a group of seven young boys, a rowdy gang who was carefree and wild.

A young boy, with dark hair and a scar, with a messy family life and a shy, warm smile.

A older boy, with a love for Mickey Mouse and twinkling grey eyes and a sweet dimple.

A hood, with dark eyes, a cynical smile and a hatred of the world, with a soft spot for a young boy.

A drop-out, with a brilliant smile, a fierce family loyalty, and a big heart.

His best friend, with a love of cars and loyalty to his friends, and a nasty right-hook punch.

A man, with a responsibility, a clever head, and a determination.

Me, a boy with a need to be heard and a love of sunsets.

This picture has faded, and two of the boys are no more. But their memories live on, with their hearts and their spot in the gang.

Now there is five young men, boys no longer. Their love binds them, keeps them strong.

Now we were a family.

It was who we are, who we'll always be.

I hope you guys like that! It was a one-shot I wrote for school, and I just wanted to post it here! Thanks for reading, and review, pretty please!!! Sodapop says thank you! I might mess around and extend it more if i get enough reviews....*hint hint* Thanks for reading! Chow!

love Kait