Yes, I did it! I finished four papers in three days and here is my treat, even though I'm hoping there'll be more than just me enjoying this. Meh, you never know. I'm fried enough to just go with the flow.

Special thanks go out to Zickachik who is awesome at editing and figuring out random Tens-speak and prodding along lazy writers and…well, she's just swaesome.

Disclaimer: Well, I own Becca and any other random relatives that pop up. S.E. Hinton has been kind enough to let us all play with her toys, so she still owns The Outsiders.

Aside from that, I can't think of anything else, so let's get this thing rolling!

Chapter 1

June 1971

It was 2:25 PM. I knew this because I'd been checking my watch every five minutes since I had gotten off my plane at 1:33 PM local time. That meant Steve was nearly an hour late to come and pick me up. I was beginning to get worried because Steve was always punctual whenhe came to collect me from the Tulsa International Airport. The place smelled like burnt rubber and was always too hot – even in the wintertime. The smell was why I always wore perfume every time I got on the plane. At least it was a distraction for the ten or twenty minutes I always had to wait for Steve. I'd had an hour to try and ignore the combating smells now and I was more than ready for some fresh air before my head started to hurt. I'd never appreciated Steve's time management skills before now when he seemed to have lost them completely. Something had to be going on and I should have been more anxious about that, but I was far too bored to be anxious. I was severely regretting my lack of forethought when I bundled my new journal away at the bottom of my backpack. I would have liked to write down some of my frustrations so I could share them with Steve later when he actually did bother to show up.

I fingered the strap of the same old backpack I'd had since I was thirteen – it was Bobby's before that – and wondered for the dozenth time if I should just hail a cab and let Steve yell at me later. It wasn't my fault he was so late, but he'd yell at me anyways for worrying him. I smirked a little. If I tried to worry over Steve, he'd just push me away – like he had in the past. Still, he could worry himself sick over me and I had no say in the matter. Sometimes I wondered who was calling the shots when the rules for the "Steve-Becca friendship/family/confidant/not-quite-anything, but-everything-in-between relationship" were established almost five years ago now. God, had it been that long since I was an annoying brat forced into exile in Oklahoma and Steve was that jerk cousin who had good reasons for being like that? Since then, I'd seen Steve a grand total of twice. He never came to the Randle Christmas gatherings I was forced into and the three family barbeques I'd attended had been Steve-free, too. Not that it wasn't full of family members I doubt even Steve knew existed, but it wasn't the same as spending time with someone you came to know really well the way I liked to think I knew Steve. We only really got to connect when I came to visit Tulsa. Steve had been on the other side of the world and still came back claiming there was no place like home. I often snorted at that since his parents were still there and they made a place so un-home-like that it wasn't even funny. But there was something about Tulsa that did draw people.

Come to think of it, I hadn't been in Tulsa since...well, it had been two years at least. I'd come right down after Steve got back from Vietnam in '69. He'd been a bonehead and enlisted when he was finished school. Soda'd gone with them and the pair of them had killed people over there and been hurt right back. When Steve came home...Well,let's just say that the next time he gets broken like that, I am going to put up more of a fight before giving in and helping him again, if he even wants my help the next time. I was no drug or grief counsellor. I didn't think Steve would ever touch drugs again, though, and I doubted he could lose another friend as close as Sodapop Curtis had been to him. I never thought about Sodapop these days. He was my first crush and it hurt to miss him, especially because I knew Steve still missed him something awful. Steve didn't show many emotions. He was brought up thinking it was weak. But he still felt and I felt for him. I mostly didn't think about Soda because once I got going thinking about him, I thought about Dallas and Johnny and how lonely Steve should be without so many important people.

I shook my head. Steve was a survivor. Steve still had friends. Steve hated it when I pitied him. I really didn't have a reason to pity him right now. He'd sounded happy and even excited last time I had talked to him on the phone. Why? He wouldn't tell me, only that I had to come down to Tulsa and I should probably plan on staying most of the summer. So I'd packed up and here I was, surrounded by suitcases and my backpack with the old, tattered, ripped red sleeping bag I always brought with me. It wasn't like Steve to be secretive like that. I was going nuts trying to figure out what he could possibly not tell me over the phone and be happy about. He didn't have to trick me to get me to come, so I ruled that out, too. So either his Dad had cancer or he'd won a lot of money somewhere. Maybe he'd got his hands on that '52 Ford he kept gabbing about.

I tapped my foot and looked down at my watch again. 2:35 PM. I sighed. All that thinking and only ten minutes had passed. Steve was officially an hour late and I was well within my rights to go and find a cab over to Darry's. I thought Darry's would be a safe bet since I had no idea where Steve hung his hat these days. The last time I had seen him, he lived in a very poorly kept apartment that I really hoped he wasn't living in anymore. I nixed the cab idea again and leaned back in the plastic airport standard issue chair. Knowing my luck, Steve would show up exactly ten minutes after I took off and we'd be chasing each other around all afternoon.

I fingered a loose blonde strand of hair and tapped my foot again. Maybe all this thinking on Steve was what was getting me so full of impatient energy. It wasn't like I had much else to think on. I hadn't changed much in the last five years. My hair was still long and blonde, though I was a tad taller, a tad curvier and I had an education under my belt. Mostly, I was still the same sixteen-year-old. I painted still, I was probably still too naïve for Steve's liking, and I still knew absolutely nothing about cars. I fingered the hem of my beige skirt and wondered who would make a crack about it not being pink first. I hadn't owned anything pink in two years now. I guess it was just growing up and working for a living. I'd taken two semesters at college for business and art. I didn't like the business, but it was much easier to be an artist before every Joe schmuck and his dog started painting. Needless to say, I was grateful to Mark for the job he'd given me. I was helpless with blueprints and angles, but I could easily draw the places to look like what they would once they were finished. Mark was helpless the opposite way, so it worked out all around. I did still want to draw and paint my own things, but I needed a new angle that wasn't being over-killed in the market currently. Two-Bit would be helpful there. If anyone had an "out there" perspective on life, it was him. I don't mean to say he wasn't on planet earth with the rest of us, but he had a way at looking at life in a simple, honest, ironic view that most people couldn't get together. I admired that.

I was about to check my watch, again, when someone flopped down beside me, invaded my personal space and took a deep whiff of the perfume I was wearing. I just ducked my head and wondered how he always knew to show up when I was thinking about him.

"Perfume for me, Beckers?" he asked and I smiled.

"Of course, Two-Bit. Who else would I be wearing it for?" I asked and he grinned.

"Well, I'd be flattered if you meant it, especially with the chick fight I'd have on my hands."

Two-Bit had been married for about two and a half years now. I never expected him to settle down, but things change when you get your girl pregnant and her daddy comes after you with a shotgun. Not that Two-Bit wouldn't have married her anyway, but he was too slow on the draw for his father in law's tastes. Married life was good for him. His wife couldn't cook, so he was thinner, and he seemed more settled down. I hadn't seen him even touch a beer last time I'd been in town. He was selling cars then and seemed to be good at it. But then, he always could sell a drowning man a glass of water, as my dad would say.

"You'd enjoy that," I drawled, looking more closely at him, trying to figure out what was different. "Two-Bit, is that a moustache?"

"Yep. You like it?" he asked and I shook my head. "Why not?"

"It looks like you have a dead mouse on your upper lip," I informed him and he fingered it lightly.

"And here I thought Steve was just in a bad mood when he told me the exact same thing," he said and I patted his arm consolingly.

"Speaking of Steve, I take it he's busy?" I asked and Two-Bit nodded.

"Got wrapped up at the garage. This cherry red mustang got banged up and the lady who brought it in is paying an arm and a leg for Steve to have it back to perfect before her husband gets home from his business trip and sees it."

I winced; knowing how hard Steve would work if he was getting paid double time. He was working at a repair and restoration shop these days and he loved it. He loved cars. Anything that had a hood and an engine under it was home to him. He'd work for free if anyone would let him.

"And even if he doesn't finish, I think there's a meeting tonight."

I nodded to Two-Bit. Steve was a drug counsellor down at the legion hall. He'd been going there for his own counselling after he came back from Vietnam and was hooked on pretty much every drug I could name personally. He just kept going to talk after he was clean until they offered him a part-time job just talking with other veterans and kids who were having addiction problems. He was in on weekends and a few nights a week, even if he didn't have a lot of time to spare. I was so proud of him that it hurt.

"So he probably won't get home until late," I surmised.

Two-Bit nodded and stood up, holding out a gentlemanly hand to me. "We'll have a good time anyway."

I smirked at Two-Bit and let him haul me to my feet.

"Are all of these yours?" he asked, eyeing the two suitcases, the backpack and the blueprint roll sitting on my art case.

"Yep. Steve said to be prepared to stay the summer," I replied.

"Yeah, the summer, not for the rest of your life," he jested and I rolled my eyes at him.

"I should have brought the rest of my stuff just to spite you," I told him, picking up the backpack, blueprint roll and art case.

"We'd never get out of here," he surmised, but picked up my suitcases and started walking towards the entrance.

"So, why are you so late?" I asked to make conversation.

"Steve didn't get a hold of me until this morning at work. Then I had a show until noon and the afternoon staff meeting I ditched out of early," he informed me. "Got here as soon as I could, honest, Beckers."

"Show?" I asked and he nodded.

"I'm a radio host now."

"What happened to working at the car lot?" I asked and he shrugged.

"You try feeding a baby on commission. Plus, I have a city wide audience to listen to me talk all morning, great vacation time, lots of events to go to and a bonus every Christmas."

I couldn't argue with him on any of that. I would have taken the job in a heartbeat.

"I'm glad you're happy."

"Yeah, I am." He smirked. "Ain't that a laugh – Two-Bit 'I won't work' Mathews happy with what he's doing for a living."

"Hey, beats being one of the people out there who never find anything that makes them happy."

"Speaking of which, how's the art going?"

"Good, I guess. Steve told you?"

"No, he shows us your letters since you're too stuck up to write to the rest of us," he teased.

"Oh," I said, surprised.

"He enjoys getting your letters, Becca." He looked serious. "You always have a lot to say and he was glad you were doing well."

"Well, if I were to follow Steve's example, you'd get something like 'Doing fine. Don't worry – Becca'," I explained, using one of Steve's typical letter formats.

"That sounds like Steve alright," he commented, shaking his head. "You know, you've been in Tulsa at least an hour and you still haven't given me the opportunity to feel you up."

He waggled his eyebrows at me and I shoved him playfully before hugging him.

"Hmm…just what I thought – you grew out of those B cups."

"You'd be the expert on B cups. How is your wife, by the way?" I asked and Two-Bit chuckled.

"I knew you were jealous of her," he teased.

"Oh yes, so jealous. She caught you without any cooking, cleaning, or even money. If only every girl was so lucky," I drawled, climbing into Two-Bit's car. "Now, where to?"

"I'm the driver, I should be asking you that," he told me. "But since you ask, Darry's."

"Darry's?" I asked and Two-Bit nodded.

"Yep. He has that extra bedroom," Two-Bit explained with a shrug.

"Doesn't Steve have an extra bedroom?" I asked and Two-Bit shrugged. "C'mon, Two-Bit. What's Steve hiding? I'm dying to know."

It had to be something really good if he was dumping me off on Darry of all people.

"And I'd be dead if I told," Two-Bit replied, turning the engine over.

"I wouldn't tell!" I promised and he smirked.

"And since when can you keep a secret?" he asked and I glared at him. "Sorry, Beckers. You're just going to have to suck it up and be patient for a couple more hours."

"I am patient. He told me he had something to tell me two whole weeks ago!"

"Then it can keep a couple more hours," he stated and I sighed, settling back into the seat.

"Since when did you become such a grown up?"

"Since my toddler started getting into everything," he replied, getting us out of the parking lot. "Kids age you up pretty fast."

"I'll keep that in mind," I told him and he smirked at me.

"Hey, I'm still the one who puts the rubber snakes in the fridge or dryer or wherever every couple weeks to keep Rachel on her toes," he pointed out. "I still know how to act immature and have fun."

"Sure."

"Hey, do you want the grand tour?" he asked and I shook my head.

"I haven't been out of town that long," I chided him. "Besides, I'm exhausted. I just want to flop down and visit with Darry."

"I see. I'll just fade into the shadows then," Two-Bit said in a mock-hurt tone.

I let out an amused snort at that one. If Two-Bit Mathews did one thing in his life, it would not be fading into the background.

I watched the scenery as we got closer to the neighbourhood all the boys had grown up in and a few of them had died in.

"I missed this place."

"Look out, Tulsa," Two-Bit whooped. "Steve's Canadian cousin is back."

I groaned. It was going to be an interesting summer.

Ok, stay tuned for whenever I get more of this typed up! I wish there were computers who would do that for me, if they could read my writing…oh well.

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens and Zickachik