Hereafter

Arc 1 : Chapter One

Deflection

I don't own anything! All rights to the Outsiders goes to S.E. Hinton.

"I don't care."

"Oh, you don't care, do you? You are barely passing any of your classes for crying out loud!" I only grimaced and faced away with my head down.

"What do you think you're doin'! You used to get A's without so much as trying hard, but now it's hard enough to get for you to get C's!"

"Yeah," I was bitter but tried to calm down if only just a little. "Well maybe I don't feel like trying anymore!" I had about enough of that, the situation was becoming volatile real fast and now's not the time, dammit. I stormed out walking with my thumbs hooked into my dark blue jean pocket.

"And where the hell do you think you're going!"

"Anywhere but here!" my older brother was really aggravating me and Soda was still asleep. Well it's not like he's gonna help me anyways.

I looked into a clear puddle at the park expecting to myself, but instead I found a pale and greasy, little boy. Looking at the bleached, or rather, stained hair made me miserable. And sure he still had long hair, but his eyes were unrecognizable to me now. The grayish-green shade stayed the same, but they were dull, bitter, and grim much like the features on the face that I saw. They no longer danced nor shined like they used to. Oh well, I suppose.This is real, this is me.

He was a greasy piece of trash alright; well he certainly looked the part. (Ah hell, I'm a greaser and that's how I'll always be) I tried to convince myself. The scary thing about that thought was that I was actually beginning to believe that.

A question rang in my head. The same one from before (What kind of world do we believe in where all I've got to be proud of is a reputation for being a hood and my long, greasy hair?) My thoughts wavered upon the answer. (Oh yeah...) I thought solemnly. (This one).

I quivered as I found a bench to lie on. It was 6: 00 or something like that; the sky was still dark blue with the exception of a small portion in front of me that looked like a tear in a bed sheet more than anything else. I took a deep breath and really wished I had a smoke right now or at the very least, a book.

Normally, since I'm already out here, I'd be drawing by now. Trash was sparsely scattered along the park and grass grew in ugly brown patches, it didn't exactly paint a pretty picture. The places around our neighborhood have never been glamorous, to say the least. But this park, despite being the same place I could've very easily met my fate, was at least a cut above the neighborhoods it was surrounded by.

It wasn't normally like this.

Not even the sunrise could cheer me up; it was still early enough in Autumn for the sun to rise at this time. But of course the clouds had to cover it.

I just know it's gonna rain today.

I can't stand it, why does Darry still keep on treating me like this; like a kid. Grades were due today and I know mine aren't so great. I'll probably get some D's and I'll have to face a caustic and didactic lecture when I get home. I hate it when people yell at me, always have. Darry's done it so much you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no. Him hollering at wasn't any better if not worse than before. Darry doesn't dig me, alright. I guess he's let up a little more than before, but still.

I wouldn't tell him or anybody, but I really wished Soda was home more, but when he is. I know we got into that huge fight, but I still wanted my brother. The one who was always there for me, who could understand me and stick up for me. But no... I'd never tell him that either. Now we avoid the crap outta each other, being near him for longer than 5 seconds only makes me more bitter, him too.

I shuddered at the things I said to him that one time. Shut the hell up Soda! You don't understand; you could you? How would you feel if Steve died in front of you? So then, why the hell do you have the right to tell me what to do?

...

When he did come around, he'd usually bring Steve over too, who still didn't like me that much. Steve was like Darry only worse; judging my every mistake and always having to point them out. But his words were often blunt and unhindered unless Soda was around. I know he, like Dally, never liked little kids, but I'm not one, why can't anybody see that? He still treats me like that tagalong kid, but I'm not dammit.

And Two-Bit's never around either; well that's Two-Bit for you, there when you don' want him to and not there when you need him. If I remember correctly, he got himself a cool new switchblade, it wasn't the same as before but it was good to see that some things never change.

He got real pissed at me once, I suppose he has the right, but still. I have every right to be pissed at him too. If he hadn't done that then maybe Jamie and I would still be friends.

...But Darry was right though, my grades really suck; I've nearly stopped eating, I've become more absent-minded, and lazy as a bum (not like Two-Bit). And I don't know why I was mad at him or anyone else. It made me miserable not knowing, and I know it made them miserable too. It only made things worse too, I can tell what they're all feeling. Disdain and fed up by now. Not surprising though. But I'm not even sure what I'm feeling. I'm not ever sure how to feel right now.

It wasn't right for me to say that to Soda. If I could take it back then I would, but that's not happening. What's done is done, I can't change that now.

At least my nightmares have completely stopped now. But now I've almost completely stopped dreaming altogether, when I'm asleep, It's all just an undying, static shade of black everywhere; and nothing else. (Sorry Cherry, I guess I'm not a dreamer anymore) I couldn't help but think.

Speaking of the devil; a familiar figure walked up to me with a friend on the sidewalk, plenty far away from me. "Ponyboy, what're you doing here!" (Oh why do you care? You wouldn't at school!) I thought coldly, but instead I just looked right through her, not really surprised.

Not much of anything truly surprised that much anymore. If Soda came home with a kid, I wouldn't be so surprised at all, especially because of the way those girls look at him like that. Heck it's surprising he's never even done anything with those girls, at least I don't think so. I wonder just how he stands it all...

But she was genuinely worried, if not a bit nagging, "Ponyboy, you know it's like 6 : 20 right now." I stared at her blankly like I didn't care, because well, I didn't so much. "Don't you know if you're late to class again, you could fail?" I knew, but I hardly cared, don't ask me why, my grades did not matter to so much; Darry knew, and it annoyed the crap outta him.

Her friend was worried too but definitely not for me. She called out, "C'mon Cherry, don't make it mad," she hollered in a hushed voice trying to make sure I wouldn't hear, she failed and earned my evil eye. Is that what I am to them? It's not like Socs are any better. At the sight of my malevolent gaze, the girl backed up and tripped and landed in a small puddle, I half-heartedly laughed at her malaise, on the inside.

I noticed that Cherry looked at me strangely; in a way I've seen before but it was never directed to me by anyone, but to someone else, I can't remember who. Cherry looked back at her friend and then back to me, she let out a sigh. Her green eyes twinkled as the shining winds came swooping down from behind her,"I gotta go, Ponyboy please just don't be late," her voice was stern. I gave in, for some reason. I didn't have to do anything to tell her 'Okay.'

A column of light shined out on the both of us. The sky was bleeding in a lustrous and iridescent shower of scarlet lights. I couldn't help but smile. She turned around and smiled too. It was good to see a nice girl smile after so long.

She left with her friend in a red Corvette.

I wasn't late to class; no matter how much weight I've lost, I was still a great runner. I could run for minutes on end without stopping if I wanted to. Today, I took a shortcut to school through a couple of the nicer neighborhoods; I didn't before since Socs would be driving around there. They'd usually curse me out or try to throw something at me like a soda can, or a piece of trash. Sometimes they'll try to go further, but it never lasted. I wouldn't let them.

After Bob's death I've become pretty famous around here, to both Greasers and Socs but for different reasons. To one group I was a hero, to the other, I was an assistant to a murderer, but more commonly, the murderer of Bob Sheldon.

It irritated me that they'd think that since the whole incident was all their fault: it's not our fault they were drunk; it's not our fault Cherry and Marcia couldn't stand them being drunk (who could?); it's not our fault Socs had nothing better to do than beat up Greasers for fun. It's not our fault we always got the short end of the stick.

It's not our fault...It never was, but at the same time, it always is.

In school, I'd always sit way in the back or to the sides. I was always put in advanced classes with Socs so I never knew anybody, nor did I want to. I guess it kinda sucked being a smart Greaser, oh well. I'll just bleed it out like I've always done. But even though I was well known by Greaser all over Tulsa, I still didn't know much of them out there.

I don't think I've really met much new people in the past few months. Well to clarify, I haven't met any new people that I actually care about. If I did, they're gone now.

That day, it was actually nice, at first. It wasn't so hot nor was it cold; the wind only blew in gently breezes and the sky was fair.

"C'mon let's go," I wanted to go to DX that day and show Trae where my brother worked, he agreed without arguing much. He wasn't the type to do that, it's not like we had anything else to do. I wanted to hustle, but Trae kept his pace steady and cool. He's never been the same since I saw him in that alley. Though he didn't change much, I could still feel he wasn't him anymore.

After quite a while, I noticed a bunch of people following us; they wore hooded jackets so that their face was hidden. Something that wasn't trademark to Greasers back then, or to anyone else really. Considering the recent events, the tension between the Socs and Greasers remained volatile as of now; one little incident, big or small, would definitely erupt a war. I had no intention of that happening nor did I want to take my chances and hope that they weren't after us. Trae wasn't stupid, not by a long shot; he caught on just as soon as I did, if not even sooner.

We kept our pace calm but slowly and steadily sped up to increase the distance between us. We came across an intersection and we crossed it while they did not, we kept walking until another intersection where we turned to the side. Then we made a break for it. We were headed towards the DX Gas Station, we were in neutral ground, and the sooner we got to Greaser Territory, the better. If they were in fact Socs, then they would likely not follow us through it all.

We ran all the way to a desolate neighborhood, it was still neutral ground but we figured it was plenty far away from them, but we were wrong. Somehow they were right behind us by like 30 feet, after crossing a street where a truck blocked the space between us for just a moment, we started sprinting. They soon followed suite, I noticed that the houses around us got bigger when compared to the others, and though the streets were just as desolate, and the lawns were all clean, green, and cut compulsively. No flowers in sight, with the exception of a few roses.

We're in Soc territory. Not good. They split up, but grew closer and closer with every turn and intersection; they knew this neighborhood, we didn't. In an effort to shake them off, we took a different route, but what we didn't know was that there was Soc neighborhoods this way.

Eventually, we were cornered into a dead end alley. They were definitely Socs, no doubt about it.

"We never did pay you back, Grease. I think it's about time we do," they walked slowly, silently, smiling towards us. Eventually the all pulled out switchblades, all four of them. Damn, I really wished I had mine with me.

(Could they be talking about Bob? That was months ago, if they were really mad at me for that, then why wait now.) Me and Trae backed up slightly. I glanced at Trae. He was tall and well built, a great fighter no doubt, but he hated it. He only fought when he had to, otherwise he didn't approve of it. Especially not after what happened with Laura. They had no right to do what they did. What did she do to them anyway? I grew bitter just thinking about it.

(Leave Trae outta this!) I wanted to holler, but couldn't. He never laid a finger to any Soc in town, being the new kid, he was not only ostracized by most Socs, but by a lot of Greasers too. He never really bothered anyone, but after all we've been through, he was my friend. No doubting it. A friend with an amazing talent, I admired him for that. And so did a lot of people, but they didn't know it was him after all. I'd hate to be in his position, right now.

Yeah, he was well aware of the Greaser-Soc conflict, but he didn't know about what happened with me. He didn't know that my best friend had killed a Soc and that me and him ran away for a week. Greasers and Socs were having it out that week and they always used Bob's death as justification. I didn't tell him because I didn't want him to know because I didn't think he'd ever need to know. I don't want him getting involved, he wasn't a part of any of this. He's not a grease or a Soc. Just a middle-class kid.

I wondered if they knew about Trae, would they still try and fight us? Most Socs and greasers admired his work, but he'd never let anyone know, not even me. I wanted to tell them so badly, but Trae would never forgive me if I did, nor would I myself.

His eyes started to shine, he said that he lived in New York before, but he ran away from home and somehow ended up here. I didn't ask why he ran away from home, but from the way he looked at fighting, and from how Dally described things up there; he might have left to get away from situations like this. He said he lived here before, Trae said that most greasers and Socs didn't bother him so much then. But his family moved away years ago.

The cool shades of gray were gone, now they were blazing with rancor. I don't think I've ever really seen the guy angry before. Does he recognize them?

I'm almost sure he's done it once before, so maybe it won't be so bad for him this time around...But whose to say what happens here today? Maybe I've been lucky so many times that my luck's run out now.

...But right now, we have no choice in the matter.

I guess the day didn't turn out so nice after all.

We braced ourselves, I was ready to fight for my life.

...

"Look at me!" an incisive voice hissed. I looked up and cursed myself for doing so, it was Bell: short, tough (or so she'd like you to think), and of course, stuck-up. She was one of those spoiled, ignorant girls who giggled a lot, put on more make-up than a clown, and starved herself for no good reason. If the girl wanted to die, then she shouldn've just told me, or any other Greaser, for that matter. We'd get the job done for her, no sweat. So yeah, she was a dirty blonde, in a helluva lot more ways than one.

I was in English class, which was my last class of today. Though I'm getting C's and D's in most of my classes, I still had an A in English. Reading and writing were two things that I've always been able to enjoy. Cherry was also in this class; whether that was a good or bad thing, I could never tell you. But it was definitely a little of both, it just depends.

A while ago she'd she'd come over to my house sometimes for help in a class or to just talk; English class would eventually be mentioned. But not so much anymore.

But Cherry always did something in school that I really hated.

"Oh, my God! I didn't know that dirty hoodlums could understand English," (Maybe, but I doubt a thoughtless sleaze can do much better.) Cherry's eyes motioned as if she were pleading to her 'friend' to stop or she'd slap her silly if she didn't stop anytime soon. I mused at the thought and looked right through her, which really wasn't so hard, did I mention that Bell was physically and mentally anorexic? Not the brightest of people.

I wasn't gonna respond. I wouldn't stoop to her level. Her words meant nothing to me, they had no relevance and she's given me no reason to respect her. My eyes deviated from the white bitch and saw Cherry now looking back at me. It felt cold, her eyes, Cherry looked at me in that way she had never done before. She looked at me with pity and I hated how it felt.

"Oh, c'mon Bell, he isn't worth it," Cherry uttered in a stuck-up manner, her eyes spoke differently. They both walked away to their seats.

(Why?) I thought sullenly, (Why did she always do that?) I grimaced internally. In school, Cherry wasn't the same person. She wasn't the nice girl, who loved special, dangerous boys like Dally and Bob, she wasn't the girl who dug movies, books, and sunsets like I did, no...

She was just Cherry the Soc.

She'd act like we didn't know each other, like we've never met before. She'd act like I was just another greaser and that we're all just the same. I had to wonder, (is that how she treats me when I'm not around?) From her eyes, I could easily tell that there was a least some truth in her words.

And they stung, her words, if they had been from any other Soc then, maybe they wouldn't have hurt so much. But no. They had to be from Cherry.

My bitter gaze fixated on the Soc girl. (Cherry) I was miserable, (just who the hell are you).

...

Today we were talking about the new novel or something. I couldn't remember, I didn't care so much. He really gave us no work to do, just notes, and discussion - see, no real work at all. I pretty much day dreamed through the whole class - don't ask what the day dreams were because I doubt I can even remember that.

At the end of class, the teacher gave the class back their last English tests. The test was easy, it only had grammar, syntax, spelling errors, and definitions. You know, all of the basic crap English class gave you.

Mr. Vallen looked pissed as hell and was already itching to give my special-ed class a verbal butt-whoopin'. "This class is a disgrace!" my classmates scowled, especially the girls. The class grew silent, but inside I was laughing my head off. "Only 9 out of 19 people passed it: one B, four C's, and three D's. However one person in this class got an A; it was a 100, the only one in any of my classes." Mr. Vallen rarely expected much from our class, ever. But this was worse than anything he's given us, especially with something so easy. At least it was to me, and I'm a greaser.

My classmates or rather, the Socs, quietly discussed about it. Unlike greasers, Socs actually cared who was smarter than who...(Such losers).

The bell rang and them Socs readily left to the buses.

"Mr. Curtis," Mr. Vallen called out.

I wheeled back around and looked at him, "Huh?" I sounded way too innocent.

"Can I talk to you," I looked at me with a solemn face and sighed. I sighed too, but on the inside, it's not like I didn't know where those words were going.

Mr. Vallen was a tuff guy. He had long black hair that was seemed just a little greased, but it was really too little for anyone to really notice. Cool and smart, rumor said that he was a good man in a fight too. He had a familiar feel to him, but this year was the first time I've ever seen him. He was a pretty big guy for only being 22 or 23 years old he must've skipped a grade or two, like me. Sickeningly enough, quite of a few of girls 'like' him. Eh, must be a Soc thing. I hear 'smart' girls go after older guys, but I seriously doubt that, more like desperate girls.

"I know that you went through a lot last year," his voice was steady with genuine concern. But I only narrowed my eyes and they began to flicker. Some of my teachers 'know' about the incident last year, through my theme. They all took pity me, and from what I could tell, he was no different.

"But that shouldn't have to affect your future now. You should be able to look passed it and learn from it." (Yeah, and what exactly could I learn from it? That the Socs are fuckin' dirt bags; that watching people die sucks; that society is seriously messed up? Hell I knew that before any of 'that' happened!) I looked across the room, put my arms across my chest, and with a grim expression. I quietly mumbled out the words, "Yeah, whatever." I knew he couldn't help but think of my gesture as childish, I would too if I were him.

"I'm not saying to forget it and leave it all behind, the past makes us who we are now and-" his voice was rising as he noticed I was ignoring every word he was saying.

"But that was then, and this is now!" he almost yelling at me now. "Ponyboy, you have 3 D's, 1 C, 1 B, and 1 A right now," Yeah that caught my attention alright, but I wasn't too happy about it.

His face was brimming with sheer irritation of my lack of understanding. "If you don't shape up now, then you'll get kicked out of the Track team!"

I was livid. "What! Why!"

"You need to have at least a 2.5 GPA to be in the Track Team, if it's not then by the end of the first semester then you're out."

(What?) I glared at him incredulously. "Since when!"

"Since now!"

(Oh of course!) I grated my teeth as I thought indignantly.

With his point across (finally), Mr. Vallen quickly calmed down, none of this is his fault anyway, I mean, he's the only whose giving me an A still. But I was not without doubts that I truly deserved it. The last thing I wanted was his pity as well. "You should probably leave or you'll miss the bus," wordlessly, I agreed, left the school and began to walk home.

It would be a big understatement to say that I was upset about getting kicked out of the Track team. Running is one of the few things I've ever been dedicated to; I worked hard to be great in track, hell I've even quit smoking for it. If I couldn't have track, then there goes the only after school activity I would ever participate in.

Like some kind of machine on autopilot, I went home without thinking like the pathways home. Almost as if it were programmed into my system. But this really wasn't a rare event at all, I was surprised how safe I've been whenever I did.

A red Corvair stopped in front of me and cut me off. I counted only three of them; one stepped up closer to me.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked with a smug smirk, "A greasy piece of trash," another answered. I only glared at them, "Oww, that hurt, thugs have feelings too y'know," with my saracasm so palpable someone could choke and die from it.

They didn't respond, "Greasy trash, huh? Then what're you, dog shit?" their smiles faded as mine only grew, "You sure look like it."

The one in front ran up to me only to be tripped, landing flat on his face. I turned and ducked under a left swing and elbowed him in the stomach, lifting him above the ground and quickly grabbing his shirt collar with my other hand, and threw him at the other Soc I tripped up earlier.

The last one jumped on my back; I struggled as he kept flailing his arms at me. One of the other Socs got up, and punched me hard enough to push me towards the wall with this weight on my back. I didn't lose enough balance to fall over so before hitting the wall, I swung my back towards the wall, crushing the small Soc on my back, he dropped down like a brick.

By now, one of them had left, but the other came back at me with a kick which I caught and lifted it so he'd fall over. I started beating on him, almost senselessly. But the last one came back and tackled me into the ground, slugging me in the back. I managed to elbow the side of his face, knocking him over. I drove him into the wall and pulled out my switchblade, holding it up next his neck. In the corner of my eye, I was the other Soc left running with a limp.

(Wow...They left this kid alone, just like that? If they were grease instead, that would never happen. We don't just leave one another, we'd defend each other no matter what. I guess that's just another thing different from us two. Oh, well. Whatever happens to this boy, it's on them. I hope they know that.)

He was small like me; no older than 14 years old. He was definitely not a fighter, at least he shouldn't be. Especially from the way he fought, it seemed more like he was pressure into doing this more than anything else. He didn't really look like a Soc either, his hair was a quite a bit longer than most and his clothes weren't the nicest, albeit better still than most greasers'.

The boy began to pale as my switchblade neared his closer to his neck. His big, bright, black eyes looked at me in a paralyzed state of terror, pleading for the life he greatly doubted I'd give him.

I froze.

From his big, wide eyes, I saw someone I've known but I couldn't quite remember who it was.

I saw my reflection in his eyes, or at least I thought it was because I didn't see me.

Chills ran down my spine, my resolve was shattered. It was obvious to me, (I'm not me anymore).

I saw him.

(The hair, the scars, the eyes; they were all the same) My thoughts raced, and my blood was rushing from my head.

I let him go, he dropped to the floor. Our eyes met in equal disgust and fear. We both bolted out of there. Neither of us cared where, we just want to run away. My vision began to blur; I didn't know if it was the rain or something else, I didn't care. All I could hear were my own thoughts, the rain drop, and my ever racing heart beat.

It's no wonder, I thought. No wonder Darry still hollered at me all the time; no wonder Soda has been avoiding me; no wonder Steve treated me even worse than before; no wonder Two-Bit's been so mad at me; no wonder Cherry looked at me the way she did.

(I've disappointted them, I was a dangerous hoodlum whose best talent was beating people up for fun and making girls cry; a dirty, mannerless fiend who fails at school; a needy, fed up and self-centered jerk who couldn't do anything right. That's what I've become to them, I was now just another greasy piece of trash, nothing more than that). I was disgusted by myself. And inside, I was burning up. The rain like cold icicles piercing my being simply felt like they were phasing me. As if they melted, then evaporated before I could even feel them.

The sky was back to being dark blue.

I could have killed that kid; once no, twice my morality has wavered. Mom, Dad, how would they feel if they saw their youngest kid like this?

I'm sorry, I know I was never supposed to be like this. (Why? How could I let this happen? It was my fault, all of it. They shouldn't have to deal with me dragging them all down. Dammit, why the hell did I even do any of that shit?)

(What the hell is wrong with me?)

(Who the hell am I?)

I rushed home, hoping to God that no one was there.

Author's Note:

This story occurs roughtly 5 to 7 months after the book ends. I will try to remain truth and faithful to the original story, but DON'T be surprised if I don't. I don't think it would hurt to mention it, but still, it's for the sake of a story. Although, this is an AU since many OC's will be involved.

Okay, so I made Ponyboy a jerk, that probably won't last. Over the days and weeks, the original plot has been edited several times over, mostly over the OC's and their roles. But this is still the very first fanfic I've ever tried to write. And my updates will likely be few and far between.