Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.

Note: Most of the first chapters are pretty much as they were in the previous story but plot has now changed - to something unlikely but more in the realms of possible.

Darry drew a hand over his forehead and felt a sheen of wetness across the back of his fingers. He reached for the bottle tucked in his shirt pocket and took several gulps of warm water. The roof tiles were scorching underneath his knees and it felt like the sun was baking him from the outside in. He peered over the edge of the three storey house and saw Pete, shirtless, his burly broad shoulders tanned and glistening in the heat, pouring a bottle of water over his chest before leaning against the truck. It sure was hot to be working. His eyes stung as sweat seeped in from the edges of his eyelids.

He leaned back slightly against the roof to take a look at Tulsa stretched out below.

He'd promised Pony he'd try to stand and stare once in a while, even if it was difficult to see the point of it, and he guessed that sweating on a roof was as good a time as any.

Besides, the view from the roof was great. The house they'd been roofing for the last week was one of the grandest in this the soccest of soc neighbourhoods. It was set on a little hill in a group of other large houses, set off from the road. Each house had it's own garden. No fences or anything, the gardens stretched neat and undisturbed from the sidewalk, tended by invisible workers like him. You could tell these people weren't worried about keeping out stray dogs or drunks

He followed the highway as it skirted round the outside of the city, taking in the neat roofs of hundreds of houses stretched out. In the distance the houses got less neat as the East side took over. Except from here it was hard to see the badly patched roofs, scrubland, untended gardens or rusty cars.

He leaned his head back and drained the water bottle. In fact, he couldn't see those things. It was probably just because he knew it was the east side that he saw those things in his mind's eye.

Darry glanced over the edge of the roof at the roomy back yard. More a garden really. All shrubs and flowers, and a basketball net hung up against back of the garage. He smiled wryly, remembering the newly broken lamp in their living room - the result of Soda and Steve's arm wrestling match getting a little out of hand this morning. It had been one of mom's favourites - a ceramic Greek figure holding up a bright peach shade. Not the prettiest of things but dad had picked it up at some garage sale in the soccy west side and mom had loved it.

He frowned, feeling a little guilty. He guessed if you lived in a place like this, you could use up your energy shooting hoops rather than rough housing in the living room and getting yelled into the next state by your big brother. He guessed a lot of things would be different if you lived in a house like this.

"Hey kid – you gonna do some work or just dream the day away?"

Darry looked up sharply. "Didn't know you were back," he said mildly as Pete's head appeared above the guttering.

"Well I am – get your ass in gear would you? We're already behind and I need to finish this job."

Darry rolled his eyes and turned back to the 23-year-old who'd just been made supervisor. Nothing to do with being the boss' cousin, of course, Darry thought bitterly.

He leaned out and pulled the roughing up onto the roof, handing the replacement Stanley knife up to Gerry behind him.

Pete pulled himself onto the roof. "Get a move on - we need more of this." He said roughly.

"Sure." Darry said between gritted teeth and swung a leg over the edge of the roof onto the hot rungs of the ladder.

Darry used his foot to kick open the screen on their front door, his hands heavy with SAVERMART bags of tinned food and toilet roll. He leaned back into the door, using his elbow to lever open the handle. The house was eerily quiet, its shabbiness more obvious when there weren't any teenagers about to liven it up. He walked through the living room to the kitchen and laid the bags on the counter.

He glanced at the clock, slightly annoyed. He'd asked Pony to start dinner tonight so he could get to the discount shop on the edge of town before it closed. They were having a special coupon day. It was going to be hard to make money stretch this month.

I'll give him fifteen minutes.

He sighed and started putting away the groceries. It was going to have to be one of their "creative" dinners... maybe he should get Soda to work some magic on beans and tomatoes.

No – scrub that. He grinned. We'll end up with some inedible purple mess, with a heap of sugar added.

Darry glanced at the clock again and forced himself to make a coffee and sit down to open that week's bills. Lately he'd taken to leaving them in a pile on the counter rather than actually opening them – he was so damn tired.

A loud ringing jolted him awake. He jerked up in surprise, knocking a pile of bills off the table. He glanced at the clock, Where the hell has Pony got to?

Hestrolled across the living room to pick up the phone.

"Hello? Can I speak to Darrell Curtis please?" An urgent voice of authority came on the line. Darry's heart sank.

What now?

Aloud, he replied, "Yeah speaking."

"St Francis hospital here. You're –" there was a pause on the end of the line, "Pony-boy Curtis' guardian?"

"What's happened?" Darry said, hearing his voice rise in panic.

"He was brought in this afternoon. He had an accident. Nothing too ser-"

Darry cut her off. "I'll be right there."