I hope reading this won't be a waste of time for you, but I promise to try really hard to put before you a quality post book Outsiders story. This is my first ever fan fiction, so I don't have a style down yet. Please review to help me make sure I'm going in the right direction. If I make stupid mistakes, don't be mean. Please tell me what I can do to fix it. Hope you enjoy your Outsiders experience!
Sodapop Curtis merrily whistled to himself as he peered at his creation baking in the oven. It had been ten long months since that fateful day when two of his best friends' lives were taken. Since then things were finally going right for the Curtis family.
Darry got finally got a promotion in the roofing business for working like a fiend all day. His new salary was big enough that he was able to quit his second job and spend more time with Soda and Pony. He also began to relax more and even sometimes went out with some co-workers after work.
Ponyboy had all the makings of a track star in him. He was on the varsity team and one of the key runners. His grades leaped up to A's and stayed there, which made Darry happy. As a result, it was easy for the two to keep their promise to Soda and not argue all the time.
As for Soda, he finally got over Sandy. He wasn't sure if he would ever love another girl like he loved Sandy, but he sure was trying. He and Steve went to parties on a nightly basis to flirt with and pick up girls.
The oven's timer shrilly sounded, breaking Soda sharply from his reflections. He put on an oven mitt and threw the oven door afar. Slowly, almost lovingly, Soda gently placed the pan of double chocolate chip triple fudge cookies on the stove top to cool.
It was at that moment that Darry walked in the back door.
"Hey Soda," Darry greeted. "Those look good, but you do realize that you're in charge of dinner, not just dessert. Right?"
Soda put on an offended expression.
"Of course Dar! Do you think so little of me?"
"Well, where is it then?" Darry probed.
Soda then had the decency to look sheepish. His handsome dark brown eyes searched beseechingly around the kitchen, as if food might suddenly appear. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say, "Well, you see, I was ...er… pulling out the dinner ingredients when I heard a loud bang and a quack from the basement. So naturally-"
"I'm too tired to listen to one of your crazy, made-up-on-the-spot excuses. I just want to go take a shower, change clothes, and come down to a hot meal. Now get started Sodapop."
Soda obediently dashed to the cupboard to grab a bag of pasta noodles. Darry paused by the door on his way out of the kitchen.
"Where's Ponyboy? Isn't he home yet?"
Filling a pot with water, Soda shrugged. "Haven't seen him. Don't worry Dar, you know how he is. Probably just lost track of time. Like always."
"That kid's gonna give me an ulcer if he doesn't start using his head." Darry grumbled. The grumble of his voice didn't match his eyes as he fondly thought of his youngest brother. He may always be after Ponyboy to think and get his head out of the clouds, but he'd take Ponyboy any day just as he was. Absentmindedness was a quality of Pony's that was a part of who he was.
At that moment the topic of their conversation meandered casually into the house.
"Hey Dar. Hey Soda." Ponyboy greeted.
He strolled by the stove and grabbed a handful of cookies, then proceeded into the living room.
"Hey pony, where've you been?" asked Darry.
"It's Wednesday." Pony said, like it was obvious.
"Is that supposed to mean something to us?" Soda asked, sticking his head out of the kitchen.
"Oh yeah," Pony said. "I forgot to tell you. Coach is making us work on endurance every Wednesday, so practice is twice as long. He makes the team run miles over 'different types of terrain'."
Darry said, "I wish you would have told me sooner so that I wouldn't have to wonder where you are. This is a dangerous neighborhood. I want to know where you are at all times."
"Sorry Darry," Pony said. "I'll try to remember next time.
Soda and Darry shot amused looks at each other over Pony's head. The odds of him not forgetting something were slim to none.
