I do not own The Outsiders sadly and the song belong to The Runaways an awesome band. This is my first Fan Fic so go easy on me. Thank you to my beta dizzyizzy123 for going over these previous chapters and editing them.

I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation

You're living in the past it's a new generation

A girl can do what she wants to do and that's

What I'm gonna do

An' I don't give a damn ' bout my bad reputation

The Runaways

People say falling in love is easy: girl meets boy, they fall in love, happy ending. But they forget to mention what happens in between all of that.

That's most likely why Tara Summers picked Tim Shepherd, of all people to fall in love with. He was the tall, dark, and handsome bad boy that every girl dreamed about taking her away, someplace far far away.

Except Tara would rather Tim take her someplace familiar like the Ribbon or the Dingo, some place where everyone could see them together. She knew people would talk and whisper but that what the whole point.

Tara was the proverbial good girl: her skirts fell to her knees at a modest length, her hair was always tied back neatly with a ribbon, and even though her shoes were shabby, she tried to keep them as scuff free as possible. She got good grades at school and never got in trouble. She rarely fought with her parents over setting the table (but that was because she did it without being asked) or her curfew (but that was because she never went out anyway).

Tara felt she was the most boring person alive. She wasn't really involved in many clubs with the Socs, wearing school colors on pep rally days and cheering the team to victory. But then again, she wasn't part of the anti-school spirit gang of greasers who smoked under the bleachers and went to wild parties at Buck's instead of the football games. In fact, she stayed home most of the time and this year, she decided it was time to make her mark amongst her peers. When they flipped through their yearbooks, she wanted someone to point to her picture and say something like, "That's Tara Summers. She's the coolest chick ever."

It was a cheesy dream but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

"I'm going to Sarah's tonight," she told her father. She didn't have any friends named Sarah but he believed her and didn't even ask why she was carrying her knapsack with her as she headed out the door. Tara was thankful because inside the knapsack was the clothes she planned to change into once she left the house: her favorite black skirt that she secretly shortened and the red blouse she had technically outgrown a year ago but it was tight in the chest and Tara thought it might enhance whatever she had in that department.

Tara took two buses to get within walking distance of Buck's, the famed center of debauchery and infamy. Tara took a deep breath before she entered behind a rambunctious group of greasers, hooting and hollering about a fight down at the Ribbon. Once she walked in that place, she was going to be a whole different person. Tara silently filed in after them and then looked around the room, suddenly unsure of herself.

Should she sit by the bar and hope for someone to buy her a drink? Or should she sit quietly by the group of greaser girls wearing the shortest skirts Tara had ever seen sitting in the corner and maybe they would talk to her?

"Bitch!" yelled one of the girls at a blonde trying to take a chair from the table. Apparently, that group didn't welcome newcomers. Tara decided to take her chances at the bar.

As she tried to work up the nerve to order her first drink, a male voice asked, "Thirsty, hon?"

Tara turned to see who it was and resisted the urge to gasp. It was Tim Shepherd, the man of her dreams. He made a motion at the bartender who wordlessly put down two beers in front of them.

"Haven't seen you around before," he said as he looked Tara up and down.

"I-I don't get out very often," she answered. Tim nodded and then looked away, suddenly disinterested. He probably thought she was some naïve kid. "But I'm trying to change that," she blurted, trying to be flirtatious as possible. Tim smiled at her.

"I bet I can help with that."

Morning light shined through the gap in a pair of fraying curtains, causing Tara to groan as she slowly sat up in the lumpy bed. Her head seemed to have its own heartbeat and as she tried to steady herself, she nearly bumped into something—except it was a someone.

She jerked awake as she tried to remember what happened last night: she arrived at Buck's, and then Tim showed up and bought her a drink and then they—did they really—

Tim's eyes flew open and turned to Tara with a piercing gaze.

"Morning?" she offered weakly.

"Get out," he said simply as he yawned and turned away from her.

"What?" She was surprised and confused. "I—I think we should talk about what happened last night—"

"Get. Out."

"I—"

"Damn, how many times do I have to tell you? Get out!"

Tears sprang into Tara's eyes as she quickly dressed herself and crept out into the dingy hallway. How could two words sound so menacing, especially in the morning? Tara suddenly remembered bits and pieces of last night: she remembered made a drunken fool of herself and Tim saying the sweetest things in her ear about how pretty she looked and how she was the sexiest girl the room—

He didn't mean any of it, she knew that now. He got what he had wanted and now he was done with her. Stupid, stupid! She told herself over and over. Bad boys were fine to fall in love with at the movies and in books but in real life, they obviously weren't Prince Charming material. Why hadn't anyone told her that?

She ducked her head, trying to sneak out without being noticed but she accidentally collided into a hard body. "Well, lookie here," chuckled a deep male voice. "If ain't one of Tim Shepherd's play toys!" The voice laughed some more as Tara scurried out the door, not making eye contact.

She managed to catch the bus and started to head home, bleary eyed and embarrassed. There was another girl on the bus who obviously just spent the night at Buck's too. It was one of the greaser girls from last night.

"Hey, were you that girl with Shepherd last night?" asked that girl. Tara nodded, willing herself not to burst into tears.

"I don't know how you can handle a guy like that," said the girl admiringly. "He's a tough guy so you must be even tougher to keep up with him."

Tara straightened up. "I am," she told her. "Or I'm going to be."

So Tim wasn't the boy of her dreams, thought Tara as she looked out the window. But that didn't mean Tara couldn't be the girl she had always wanted to be.