Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders.

A/N: It was a solid win on the poll so I decided if that's what the public wants, they shall get it!

Please note that this is a year or two before the events of the book.

Mary is a whore - the devil. It's what my sister and my grandma have told me all my life. In every class room I see pictures of Mary and I think of what they've told me about her. In Sunday school they teach us that she was a good girl. She always followed the rules, listened to her parents, and was obedient. She was the mother of Jesus - a virgin.

They didn't tell us that part in Sunday school. I didn't learn that until middle school when we had the sex talk. Can you imagine? A room full of nuns...talking about sex? I couldn't until it actually happened. It's hard to relive that moment.

Chrissy disagrees with the whole thing. "Mary was a whore, Syl. She lied to everyone and they just believed her because she threw God's name into the mix. It's all a joke."

I told my seventh grade teacher that one year. I got suspended for two weeks.

My grandma knows more about the Bible than my parents. They don't think so, but I think she does. She doesn't believe in it and that's why we didn't visit more. I'm told always when we leave not to believe anything she says because she's old and hasn't been right in the head since grandpa died.

When she died they gave Chrissy and I a speech. They told us, thirteen and seventeen year old girls, that she had gone to Hell. We would never see her again.

That's the same speech they gave me when Chrissy left last year. Word for word. The only difference - Chrissy didn't die.

"My mom is taking me to the mall this weekend to get a dress for your party!" Cynthia sits her tray down in front of me. It's full of sweets - cookies and pudding to be exact.

She's only saying this because I couldn't get a dress for my own party. My dad lost some shifts at the lumber yard this week and since we're already paying for pizza and cake, a dress wasn't in the budget. I have to wear an old one. A hammy down I should say because all of my clothes once belonged to Chrissy. The only problem with that - I don't have the chest to fill.

"Who gives a shit?" Lucy jumps into the lunch table conversation. "My mom even promised me new shoes! Yippie!"

My parents can't afford this school. They dish out money every year to impress their friends but there's only so much after the tuition alone. It's the only Catholic school in the city. They don't think public school can offer me the things this school can. So they write the check every year, hoping that maybe it'll make me a better person than my sister.

They told us we go here because public school doesn't teach us about God and the Bible. As if going to church every Sunday and Mass on Friday wasn't enough. We get to learn of all the wrong doings we've all done and what wrong doings we are not allowed to commit, the thoughts we are not allowed to think.

And they wonder why Chrissy and I begged to go to public school.

"Are you excited about your birthday?" Ruth asks. "It's the big fifteen!"

I nod picking at my fruit cup my mom packs me every day in my bag. I stare at Cynthia's cakes on her tray and her soda pop. I've never had either of those things. Once, I think, at my grandma's house when I was a kid.

Ruth admires my necklace, twisting the locket back and forth on its chain. She's so close to me that I can smell her bubble gum and see the oily pours popping out of her skin like mini volcanoes just waiting to explode with puss.

"Is Chrissy going to be there?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Did you invite her?"

I couldn't do either. They know this. They're just saying it anyway. All of them look except for Lucy who's too wrapped up in her mystery meat to notice or make another wise comment.

"No. She's...busy that weekend. Her boyfriend is taking her out of town for a vacation to see a concert."

All three gape. "A concert!"

"Yeah."

They look at each other, each thinking the same thing. We're told what happens at those things. The hippies all meet up, exchanging LSD and pot and sitting on blankets as they jam out to devil music that's rotting their minds more than the drugs are. The nuns talk about it, then their parents, then the news.

Lucy uncovers her mouth to speak. She's half smiling, half jealous that she's not the one there. "Do your parents know?"

"No."

They wouldn't. They don't speak. The communication line was cut a year ago and neither side was mending it.

"What are you doing?"

I sit on the end of her bed, watching her throw shirts and skirts into an open suitcase. She's tearing the room we share apart. "Go help Mom with dinner or something."

I watch as more clothes are thrown across the room. More land on the floor than in the suitcase. She's emptying out her whole closet and most of mine. This isn't exactly the first time I'd seen my big sister do this.

"You're already in enough trouble, you know," I point out. "If you make a mess of the room you won't be able to see Booker ever again. You better stop. They're really mad, Chris. Just lay off."

She stops and leans up. She curls her back up like a cat, making it pop. She runs a hand through her long blonde hair that comes to her butt, and looks around her at the mess she's made. "No, Syl. This is the last straw."

Chrissy changed her clothes. She started wearing skirts that showed off her butt, tops that showed off her boobs. She began straightening her hair with an iron and she practiced walking with heels. My parents noticed the change. They bought her sweaters and kept her inside on Friday nights. They did everything they could to shelter her a little bit longer. It was too little too late for that though.

Five months ago, Chrissy brought a boy home. A long haired, smelly, pot smoking guy. She brought him into our two bedroom shack on the edge of town, smiling with glee as she showed him around. She held his hand as they passed through the hallway that's painted with crosses and family pictures.

She took him into the kitchen and they both sat down in front of my parents and said as plainly as day: "We're atheists."

You'd think an atomic bomb went off at that very moment. My parents, the people who spent their lives and ours in church, were speechless at their eldest daughter.

That's when things really went downhill.

"Christian!" my mother shouts from the living room. The house is small. You can never say you don't hear our parents calling for you. It's in your best bet to go when you're called.

Chrissy slams a blouse down in the bag and stomps into the living room where both my parents sit, arms folded. I follow her, standing behind so I'm not noticed right away.

"Young lady, we've had enough of this nonsense!" My father's voice is always strong. Always boisterous.

My mother stands with a cold stone face. She makes Chrissy sit so she's standing above her, judging her even more. She always does this when either of us is in trouble. I hated it with a passion. It made me feel so beneath her.

"You will not see him again," Mom says quietly. "We mean it this time, Christian."

Chrissy snickers, not hiding it. Chrissy is no longer scared of my parents like me. She hasn't been for some time.

"Something funny?" my father asks.

Chrissy covers her mouth a little, obviously still laughing. "You know, in the Bible it says not to judge. I've read the book cover-to-cover just like you, yet, you stand here, judging someone you don't know."

"We know him," Dad reiterates. "We caught you smoking with the boy, having sex, sneaking around, not once, but three or four times!"

"What makes you think I was hiding it?"

Mom rubs her face. "What has gotten into you? This is not the girl we raised!"

Chrissy sits back in the arm chair, clearly comfortable. "No. The girl you raised had no opinion because she wasn't allowed to. She wasn't allowed to speak without a command. The daughter you raised was dog…..and I killed her."

Mom turns on her heel and lets out a loud sigh. She no longer will look at Chrissy. Only my dad.

"You best shut up with that talk!" The shouts are getting louder. The dogs in the neighborhood are beginning to bark again, as they do almost every night.

Chrissy, still unfazed, raises her eyebrows. "Daddy, I'm your little girl all grown up. Can you not see how grown up I am, Daddy? You've seen me when I shower, and when I'm having sex. I see you looking at me. I see the way you grab yourself when Mommy isn't around and it's just the two of us."

"Enough!"

The first blow comes from my mother. She wipes around, landing a solid hard smack to her right cheek. I take a step back and control my tears. I can't cry like every other night when I'm sent to my room, waiting for them to come in and tell me to never repeat the things that are said at night.

Chrissy keeps her head turned away after the blow. She still has a smile on her face, though, unlike most nights, it's far from sad. "That all you got, Mommy?"

Dad gets up and I'm scared. I back up so he won't see me. My back hits the wall.

"I've had enough of this!" He gets down in her face. He makes her look at him. "Listen here, you ungrateful little bitch. You've got about three seconds to apologize to your mother and I and get your SHIT together before I take my belt off and beat the living SHIT out of you!"

I've rarely heard my father say those words. I said them once when I was six and got spanked and had my mouth washed out with soap. Normally, this would shock me in some way. Tonight, it's not a rare occasion for him to say that. Not since Booker showed up. I'd seen a different side of my parents since that day. I'd seen a different side of my sister...or was it the real Chrissy, just waiting to come out?

Chrissy's stare is strong. It's cold and it's blazing hot. She has the same stare as dad; one of hard exterior and an even harder interior to back it up. "Go ahead. Hit me all you want. Make me bleed. Leave markings. I won't hide them. After tonight, I'm gone…..you will never see me again. So go ahead, Daddy. Give me one last beating for the road. It'll be the last fucking time you'll ever touch me."

Splat. There's a warm sensation as it runs down my leg. I feel soaked down to my underwear.

"Shoot!"

Lucy's at the sinks, reapplying her pink lipstick. The heel of her foot it popped out so the bottom of her shoe sticks out. She smacks her lips together over and over again. She sneers as she listens to me inside the stall. I watch her reach into her purse from the crack of the door.

Her heels clank as she bends over and hands me the pad from underneath the door. "You're such a baby, Syl."

I stand up, flushing the toilet behind me. "It starts at the most shitty times."

She pops her lips again and goes back to the mirror. "Better not say that too loud. Sister Kathryn will come in here. Can you just imagine? Being dragged out by your pretty long hair? She'll march you right down to the office. Oh heavens no!"

I laugh, washing my hands with the spring smelling soap. I can't help but watch Lucy through the mirror. The way she fixes her hair and puts on her make-up. I used to sit and watch Chrissy do the same, then she'd do mine.

I reach down into my back and get out the little pink ribbon. Leaning backwards, I pull my hair back, tying a crisp bow.

"God I wish I had your lips." Her dark nails click the cap back on the stick. "Naturally red and thick. Snow White the princess going to Saint Mary's. You make the rest of us look like the witch...after she turned into the old lady."

I rub some water on a paper towel and make sure there's no blood still on my legs. Lucy is gorgeous and she knows it. She just wants me to say it. As if her boyfriend doesn't tell her a million times a day as is.

"Did you see the gum on Cynthia's skirt at lunch?" She looks at me, practically beaming with pride.

I raise up from the sink. I shake my head though I don't hide my devious grin. "You're going to hell."

She shrugs. "Ah, what else is new?" She flips her hair a few times, just to make sure it's fluffed to the best of its ability. "I can't stand her. You just had to go invite her to your party. Now I get to hear about how pretty her cupcake dress is."

"She's a spoiled bitch. Did you hear her bragging at lunch? She did that on purpose," I say as I wipe under my eyes with the paper towel. "Her mom's friends with mine. That's why I invited her."

Lucy shakes out her hair, making sure every strand is in its place. "Well, don't be offended if I bale out a little early and go get high with Tim behind the garbage in your backyard. You're more than welcome to join us if you want."

I giggle at the thought. I picture my parents finding her and what they may say. They'll insist on calling her mother and Tim's. Between the both of them, they may get in touch with someone's mother. Though around five is usually happy hour at most of the bars. If they call any later than that, they're guaranteed to find them passed out on the sofa.

"I think I'm gonna pass. Kinda lame to bale on your own party after all. My always mother taught me to be a good host."

Lucy looks down in her purse as she snorts. "Oh, how could I forget? Little Ms. Sylvia Mason would never be caught dead with a joint in her mouth. What will Mommy and Daddy do if they caught their little peaches and cream delight daughter smoking, taking after her big sister?"

I flick water at her from the built up sink. "Shut up! I've smoke before."

"Oh have you?" She raises both of her eyebrows, eager to hear this story. "You've had sex too, right?"

I fiddle with my things, taking my time putting everything back in its right bag. I can feel Lucy's icy glare on my back. She's waiting for me even though she already knows all the answers. She's been my best friend since grade school. She knows.

"Sylvia Mason, you virgin!"

I quickly reach over and shove her on the shoulder. "Shut up! Don't scream it out like that!"

She hysterically laughs as she catches her balance. "Oh look at the little baby! C'mon now Syl. Being a virgin is a good thing. Save yourself for marriage. Or better yet, become a nun! They don't have sex at all!"

"I'm gonna shove that lipstick down your fucking throat if you don't shut your trap!"

"I can't even picture you having sex." Her voice level goes down. She grabs her bags from the floor and begins to head out the door, her heels leading the way. Her long legs seem to go on forever as I look up at them. "Baby, Sylvia. Such a bad one. The wild one of the group. I can see it now."

I scramble for my things and rise to get to the door first. "Bite me, Lucy."

Lucy lost her virginity a long time ago. I'm not sure of the time because Lucy O'Donald is also known as a pathological liar. She's been on pills for everything from anorexia to depression. She speaks crazy and not everyone can understand her at time. I can listen through the spears of madness.

As we walk through the halls, she walks with a kind of confidence you can only find in a Vogue fashion show. She always looks and acts like she's on the runway at all times and people take notice. When I'm with her, I feel the eyes of the worshipers. The little catholic school girls with pimples and glasses that only dream of being Lucy O'Donald for just a day.

She stops at our set of lockers. She bends her knee a little and does a flick of her hair before she looks down the hall.

Lucy presses her lips together, holding back a witty smirk as she eyes the boy at the end of the hall. He's got a stack of books in his hands, grease in his hair, and big black boots that are heard all the way across town. He has his shoulders back, strutting through the halls, only having his eyes set on her.

"Hey baby." He spins her, kissing her lips.

I can see her smile under his big lips that are now a nice shade of pink. "You cut lunch again. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't let you drive me home after school."

He has his arm tight around her waist. He pulls her stomach into him, jerking her. "'Cause I'm me, doll. You know you can't resist a man in uniform, Lucy Lou."

Lucy giggles like a little girl. She quickly wipes the grin from her face and presses her lips back together again. "Ok. You owe me big time though, mister. I mean it. I wanna see that movie at the drive-in this weekend and you're gonna take me."

"I got shit to do, sweets."

"Well," she parts from him, pushing him away. She shuts the door to her locker and spins around so her skirt comes up a little, giving us all a little peek at the pearl white panties she has on. "That's too bad for you then, now isn't it?"

Tim shakes his head and locks arms with her. She passes off her book which he carries with his other hand.

I follow behind them and head out to the parking lot where the buses are. I talk to Tim about cars and movies and gather stares from Lucy until we reach the end of the pavement.

We've known Tim Shepard since we were kids. We've gone to school together all our lives. You could say we were like siblings in a way. If you wanted to go that far that is.

I'd be lying if I never thought about Tim. He was Lucy's so I promised never to think anything more after they announced their love and she told me I could never get someone like him. It still doesn't stop me from picturing him in ways I shouldn't.

"There's my ride."

My eyes follow Tim's finger. It points to a blue car just behind the lot of buses. A guy with shades on steps out.

Then it's like what we all see in movies. The director or editors, whatever they are, slow down the speed so it draws attention to the character of importance. It pinpoints the sexuality of the scene, aiming to make all the girls in the theater hot and wet by the time the clip goes back to normal speed.

Too bad my panties are already wet.

It'd be corny for me to say I couldn't look away. In fact, I made it clear that I wasn't looking at him though I did sneak peeks at this blue eyed devil with a blue jean jacket coming toward is. The way he walked, the way he pulls his glasses off once he got closer made me sweat a little. I could feel it running down my inner thighs. He could walk out into New York traffic, all four lanes speeding, and they'd all stop and just stare.

"Who is that?" Lucy elbows Tim's side, demanding he tell her immediately.

My temperature rises as he gets closer. My cheeks turn red as he notices me. He can see me. He's looking at me. What do I do? Should I look back? No, that'd show that I'm looking. I want to look though. Shit, I always suck at this part.

"Tim! Who is that guy?"

The ground under me seems to shake as he comes to a halt in front of us. The corners of his lips go up a little. He's looking at Lucy now, not me. This is something I'm used to and I can feel my heart rate slowing back down.

I scowl, glaring and listening.

"Ditch the broad and the dead weight and let's go, Timmy."

"Broad?"

"Dead weight?"

The boys both sneer at each other, satisfied at their ability to tick us both off at the same time. "Yeah. You heard me."

He eyes me now. I'm already staring so when he does, our eyes meet. He looks me over, not hiding the fact that he's checking me out. He starts at me shoes, pauses at my crotch, and then resumes going up to the chest and then the face. I can tell by the look on his face that's he's pleased. I pose a little, trying not to make it obvious.

"I'm no broad," Lucy states, snappy. "Hello! I don't know who you are but you need to really check yourself when you talk to girls. You'll never get fucked if this is your way of flirting, bub."

He's looking at me. He doesn't hear her or notice her. No one ever does that to Lucy. She's the Lucy. This guy, he's scanning me over, not caring that I notice him or not. He's confident, almost cocky. Defiantly cocky.

"Dallas. You, dead weight?"

"If you'd ask a little nicer I might tell you."

"I like your bow, Sugar."

Lucy's eyes beam us both as, yet again, she goes unnoticed.

I reach up and touch the smooth fabric that is my bow. I bite my lip. My face turns hot. I stand on one leg, ignoring my embarrassment. "Was it so hard to be nice? Did that just kill you a little inside? You got a last name, Dallas?"

"You got a first?"

"Sylvia. I'm Sylvia Mason."

He smirks. It's a cocky type of laugh, almost like a snort. It's smooth. Little did I know at the time, I'd be hearing that smirk in my dreams and nightmares for years after this first encounter. "Me, you, Timmy and his broad-"

"I'm not a broad, asshole!"

"Movies," he continues, not missing a beat. "Don't bother getting dressed."

A/N: If anyone has read Is There Anyone Out There? This will be like that as far as format goes. I am relating it back to one of the chapters in Poison and Wine when I mentioned Sylvia's past. I'm aiming for 8 chapters. PW will still continue as planned, just not this week.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review!