Disclaimer: Steve and any other Outsiders characters belong to S.E. Hinton. I do not own anything. Translation: Dis is nawt mine.

Tulsa Oklahoma, October 3, 1966

Sodapop didn't know what to think that sunny day when that rich Soc girl appeared at the entrance of the DX.

The Socy girls never came to the DX, at least not his DX. If they needed a repair, they went to those pricey repair shops that spent weeks on their car on their own side of town.

Frankly, he didn't exactly care. If anything, he'd like to personally kick her out of the store rather than dealing with her.

Johnny killed a Soc. Johnny died. Dally practically committed suicide. He just found out the girl he'd thought he be with forever cheated on him, and then she moved to Florida-all in a few weeks.

Soda's little brother had been quieter and kept more to himself ever since the horrible events took place, and Soda couldn't say he was handling it any better. Right now, he had too much on his mind to be curious.

Ever since Sandy left, he'd been too depressed for chit-chat, and the millions of girls that would often flock around him at work had slowly disbanded. It was the first time this month that he'd seen anyone younger than twenty at the DX.

He rubbed his blackened fingertips off with a dirty cloth and walked towards the girl.

"Need sumthin'?" he asked emotionlessly.

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, and played with the edge of her decently long red dress that must have cost hundreds. "Is Steve Randle here?" she asked quietly.

"Whatcha want from him?" Soda replied, narrowing his eyes. Steve hated every single one of the Socs, especially the girls, and even more so after the death of Johnny and Dally. Soda didn't believe that he would be socializing with any of the proper rich girls like her.

"Just, please" she replied, a slight air of superiority tingling her voice.

Soda raised a single eyebrow at her, his annoyance building.

"Please," she said again. "Tell him it's Amelia." When Soda didn't move, she dug her hand in her purse, fishing out a wallet.

"I'll give you this," she said, waving a twenty dollar bill in his face. "If you go get him for me."

As rare as it was, there were some times that Soda would lose his temper. This was one of those times.

"I don't need your worthless money," he snapped, as he slapped the bills from her delicate fingers. "I'll go get him," he said, his nostrils flaring.

"Thanks," the girl said, with a genuine smile.

Soda glared at her, and swung around to head to the back where Steve usually went when business was slow. However, at that moment Steve himself emerged through a small door at the corner of the garage.

"What's up," he said, dropping his cigarette on the cement flooring, and stomping on it to put out the sparks. Soda couldn't help but notice the way the Soc flinched.

Steve glanced up from his crushed weed. His jaw opened just enough to be noticeable and his eyes filled up with a mixture of different emotions that Soda couldn't name. Confusion? Anger? Hate? Surprise? Longing? Soda settled on an average of all five.

"What the fuck?" he said, his eyes looking past Soda, a distant expression on his face.

"Lia?" Suddenly, he froze, and regained his usually confident posture. "Fuck are you doin' here?" he hissed at the girl.

"Hey," she murmured softly, giving a tiny three-fingered wave.

"Need a repair girly?" he sneered. She opened her mouth to speak, but Steve cut her off. "Cause if you don't, then you better get the hell outta here." He paused, his anger slowly building. "You know what? I don't care if you need a repair, just leave. Go to one of those places on your side of town, little rich girl."

"Steve," she said calmly, her eyes giving away nothing. "I just want to talk to you." Steve's glare hardened. "Please?" she said, adding the last word like it would make a difference.

"Tough luck," he scorned before swinging around and trotting back to where he came from.

"Steve," the girl shrieked, louder than she should have. She scrambled after him, opening the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Soda waited for a few second. That became five minutes, then ten, and then a half hour passed, but neither of them emerged.

Soda threw down the wrench and stripped off his tool belt and threw it in a corner. Screw Steve, he thought angrily. He didn't know the girl, and it wasn't like Steve bothered to inform him. He knew she wasn't an ex-girlfriend; Steve couldn't keep that a secret if he tried. Girlfriends excluding Evie meant nothing to Steve, so she must have been more than that.

He was sick and tired of being kept in the dark. He was used to it, but it was the first time it came from his best friend.

Soda stormed out of the DX, silently asking himself what Steve would keep from his very own best friend.

Tulsa Oklahoma, September 7, 1954

"Mommy," I whimpered, tugging on the end of her faded pink dress. "Don't go."

My mother brushed me off, taking her purse off the tabletop. "Steve," she said none too gently. "I have to go." she paused. "Now."

"Please," I bawled, uselessly trying to keep the tears from coming. "I don't want to be alone!" I sobbed.

My mother shook her head, looking disappointed. "Sorry." she said meaninglessly. She pried my tiny fingers from the seam of her skirt and forced her way out of the room before I could make a single movement.

I stared after her as she got into her car and drove off as fast as she could, not really sure if I was angry or upset.

"Are you Steve Randle." a falsely sweet voice spoke from behind me. I turned around. An old woman who looked weak enough to collapse at this very moment was standing inches away from me with a clipboard and pencil in her hand.

I shrugged, looking down at my old worn out sneakers.

"I'm Mrs. Nelson. " she said, holding her hand out to me. When I didn't move to take it, she pulled it back. "I'll will be your preschool teacher for the next nine months." she said with a wry smile on her face. "Isn't this wonderful.

I think we could both agree that this was far from wonderful. She was not my mother, and therefore I wouldn't listen to her or do anything she told me to. Maybe if I kept it up long enough, Mommy would finally let me go to work and spend the whole day with her.

Mrs. Nelson handed me a tissue. "Wipe those tears away from your adorable cheeks." she cooed, rubbing the top of my head. When I smacked her hand away, a wave of fury passed through her eyes. I thought she would hit me, like Mommy did when she was really angry, but she straightened up and cleared her throat. "You can take a seat over there." she said, her knobby hand pointing to an empty seat and her voice just barely shaking.

I walked slowly towards the seat, sulking to make it obvious we wouldn't be getting along. When I finally reached the creaky chair made of scratchy wood, I kicked my shoes off and tucked them under my chair.

As time passed, more kiddies came, each and every one crying for their mommies. I couldn't help but notice the way their mothers responded to it. Kissing them on the forehead, instead of brushing them off. Telling them they were proud, instead of treating them like another child to spend more money on. Hugging them and saying they loved them, instead of escaping at the first chance.

I also noticed how much larger the number of kids that came after I did versus how many came before I did. In short, I guess my mother just couldn't wait to get rid of me.

As the kids piled in, moving like robots into the seats where Mrs. Nelson would point her finger to, the seat beside mine remained empty.

Almost fifteen minutes since the last kid had came in, had passed and Mrs. Nelson still hadn't begun class. I also noticed that the more time that passed, the antsier Mrs. Nelson would get.

Three minutes and she was biting her lip. Five minutes, and she was clicking her heels against the floor rapidly, while I sat there wanting to tell her to stop, but also wanting to continue my act. Ten minutes, and she started rolling her pencil between her fingers as she paced back and forth across the small classroom. When the fifteen minute mark had hit, she was nearly sweating bullets, and her eyes were wide open and agitated.

Finally, the heavy door to the classroom creaked open, and the first real smile I'd seen on her, popped across Mrs. Nelsons wrinkly face.

A large man stepped in, his left hand gently placed on a little girl's back keeping at least a foot of distance between them. His face was contorted and nervous and he kept glancing back and forth from the silver watch on his wrist to back at Mrs. Nelson.

The little girl had her dark hair pulled into a tight braid that fell across her back as she glanced down at her feet. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and a layer of bangs hid her expression, but I doubted it was anything good.

"Thank goodness you're here," she said, a look of relief washing over her face. "Class was just about to start." Liar.

I couldn't believe that she'd made us sit in our tables for fifteen minutes, just for her. Fifteen minutes. Did she not know how hard it was for me to sit still for that long, I thought furiously.

She bent down and did what she most likely believed was a warm smile and snatched the little girl's hand. She flinched and glared at her father.

Mrs. Nelson pretended not to notice. "Oh, we have the perfect spot for you," she gushed. "You can sit by…" her gray eyes fell on me, with my shoes kicked off and my socks emitting a strange smell. "Oh." she said, sounding disappointed.

She turned towards the large man and gave one her "smiles" which resembled a face I'd make if I could openly express what I felt about her. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Gallagher," she said. "We could fine her a much better place-"

The large man held up a hand to stop her. "No, no it's okay," he said quickly. "Just put her anywhere you want," the girl glared at him. "I have too many more important things to do at work." The little girl's glare hardened.

Mrs. Nelson expression sprang up, and her eyes twinkled. "Of course, Mr. Gallagher," she said grinning. "Whatever you want." She took the little girl's hand and half dragged her towards the seat next to me.

"Now class…" Mrs. Nelson began, the rest of her speech, slowly fading from my awareness.

I glanced at the girl, to find that she was staring equally hard at me.

"What are you looking at?" she hissed, under her breath.

"What are you looking at?" I replied indignantly. "I can't believed we waited this long for you." I continued, trying to drill my eyes into her, they way my older brother did to me when he was angry.

She smiled proudly, her eyes lighting up. "My daddy works for Jean Paul Getty," she said, pompously emphasizing the name of the man I didn't know. "My mommy says Daddy is the richest man in Tulsa." she grinned, a smug expression on her face.

"Who's the Getty person?" I sneered back at her.

She tipped her chin up, proudly. "He's…" she paused for a moment, while I grinned at her smugly. She glared at me. "He's the richest man in the world." she finally said.

I tried to raise one of my eyebrows like I saw the people do on TV. "The President is the richest man in the world!"

"He's not richer than Jean Paul Getty," she barked, swinging her long braid back and forth across her shoulders. "My daddy says he has more money than you could ever imagine!"

"No he doesn't," I yelled indignantly.

Mrs. Nelson turned around from the blackboard. "Steve," she said, fury burning in her eyes. "Are you giving little Amelia a hard time."

"I am not little!" she piped.

"Of course you're not," Mrs. Nelson said quickly, turning towards her with a warm smile. "Would you like to sit next to someone more…" she gave a sideways glance at me. "clean."

"Yeah, go sit somewhere else," I shouted, louder than Amelia did herself."

Mrs. Nelson starred at me, her dark eyes warning me to shut up. "Why don't we let Amelia have a say in this," she said, her eyes still locked on to mine.

"He's right," Amelia sneered. She cast her eyes around the room. "I want that seat," she said, pointing a tiny finger at a shy little boy who had the seat in the very center and the very from of the room.

Mrs. Nelson beamed. "Of course Amelia," she said, smiling warmly. "Anywhere you want."

She turned to the boy. "Danny," she said firmly. "I want you to switch seats with Amelia," she said.

It was weird how she could say she could say "want" yet everyone understood it was hardly a preference and more of a demand.

Danny nodded silently, scooped his stuff up and stood next to Amelia, who was still gathering her endless amounts of pencils, pens, paper, and even a small can of paint.

As she got up from her chair, and began to head to her new designated area, she turned around and stuck her tongue at me. I blew a raspberry back, but real quiet like, so Mrs. Nelson didn't notice.

I think I can truthfully say that school was very, very boring. All we did was finger paint, and then the teacher read us a cheesy story about a stupid little girl who stole a bunch of stuff from three bears.

It was the dumbest story I've ever heard. Bears don't live in little cottages in the middle of the woods, and they don't have chairs, beds, or porridge. Besides, as moronic as Goldilocks was, it was better to go into someone's house than stand outside like an idiot, getting ready to be eaten by wolves.

I don't think I had ever been more relieved when the bell rang and the teacher announced it was "recess". I didn't know why it was called recess, or why it sounded so similar to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but I was thrilled enough not to care.

However, "recess" didn't turn out to be as fun as I thought. All the kids got out their building blocks and trains sets, while some other kids pulled out a book and pretended they knew how to read by looking at the pictures.

When I tried to play with the building blocks, this annoying girl yelled at me and told me I couldn't play. When I stuck my tongue out at her, she burst into tears, and tattled on me to Mrs. Nelson.

Then Mrs. Nelson told me, that since it was my first day, she would go easy on me, but if I screwed up again, she would have to punish me.

After that, I settled on sulking in my chair and mumbling something, not even I knew, so that everyone would know I'm upset.

When I heard the creak of a chair sliding out beside me, I glanced up. It was the Amelia girl taking a seat next to me.

"What are you doin'?" I asked indignantly, narrowing my eyes at the girl who got me into trouble at least twice in one day.

"Nuthin'," she retorted, pulling her braid over her shoulder. "I can sit here if I want to," she said.

"No you can't," I whined. I glanced at one of her chubby hands, that were wrapped around a set of blue pens. The only pens I've ever seen were black. "Gimme one of those and I'll let you sit here," I said.

"No!" she said quickly, yanking the pens out of my reach, protectively.

"Then you can't sit here," I replied snottily.

"Who's going to stop me," she asked, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I am," I snapped, glaring at her. "I'm going to make you move."

"Not you're not."

"Yes I am," I snapped back angrily. With that, I scooted off my chair and onto her's shoving her onto the floor. "See?"

"Hey," she complained, getting to her feet. "That's my chair," she said. She wrapped her hands around my arm, letting her pens drop to the floor. When she tried to yank me out of my seat, I was so surprised by her strength, I fell off to easily.

"Hey," I said. "That was cheating, I was goin' easy on you."

"No you weren't," she shouted, stomping her foot. "I beat your fair and square."

I shook my head. "No, I let you win, because you're a girl, and everybody knows boys are better than girls." I said, blowing a raspberry at her.

"No, they're not," she cried. Then, she reached over and slapped me across the cheek. I reeled back in surprise. I couldn't believe she'd actually hit me, I mean I all I did was speak the truth. So because of that, I shoved her to the ground and snatched up all of her pens.

"Ha-ha," I said, pressing my thumbs to my ears and wiggled my fingers at her. "I got your pens."

"Come back here," she screeched, leaping to her feet and scrambling after me. "You're a thief," she yelled, as she chased me down the hallway. "My daddy is going to call the cops 'cause you're a thief," she screamed after me.

I didn't know where Mrs. Nelson was that day. Maybe she was taking a bathroom break, or maybe she was going to get something. Mostly, however, I think it's because she didn't have anymore energy to deal with us.

I managed to sneak a quick peak behind me to find she was surprisingly close to catching up with me. I glanced around until I found a pair of doors, one with a girl over it and the other with a boy. I scrambled into the one under the boy.

"Ha-ha," I said, through the bulky wooden door. "You can't come here, because you're a girl." I continued. "Only boys can come in here."

For the first few seconds, I didn't hear anything from the other side of the door and I was afraid she left but then a tiny voice piped up. "Is there anyone else in there?" she asked.

I glanced around the small bathroom, consisting of nothing but a single toilet, a sink and a soap dispenser. "No," I called to her.

"Okay," she said happily. The next thing I knew, the door was shoved open right in front of my face. I tumbled backwards, letting the pens litter all over the tiled floor. I clutched my nose painfully. I hoped she'd broke it, then I could call the cops and tattle on her.

Amelia quickly bent down and snatched up all her pens, and began waving them in my face.

"I got the pens," she bragged, even though they were already her's in the first place. She pulled against the door until it opened and jumped out.

I leaped to my feet, the pain already fading from my nose. I wasn't about to let her get away. As soon as I pried the door open, and was ready for a full-on chase, I crashed into something, and my nose felt like it had just been burned.

I glanced up, my hand clutching my face. Amelia had been standing in front of the door, her eyes widened, and her cheeks paled.

"Do you know how to get back?" she whispered quietly.

I opened my mouth to brag about how much smarter I was, but then I slowly close it, when my mind began to wrap around the fact that I didn't, in fact, know how to get back. I shook my head.

Amelia flopped down next to me on the rough carpet floor. "My daddy says if I ever get lost, I should stick with someone older so I don't get kidnapped. " she paused to look at me. "How old are you?"

"I'm five," I stated proudly.

"I'm five too," she said, blinking her eyes. "When is your birthday?"

"April fifteenth," I said. "I turn six in seven months," I bragged, holding up my seven fingers to show her.

"Darn it," she said. "My birthday is on February twenty-first," she frowned. "Does that mean I'm going to get kidnapped?"

"Yes," I said, thinking about her theory of staying safe. "You will, but I won't because you're older than me."

She pouted and crossed her arms. "Well, if I get kidnapped, I'll tell the kidnappers that they should take you too," she said.

"I'll tell them they should kidnap Amelia, because your daddy is the richest man in the world," I said sarcastically. "And because you're a gir-" she glared at me warningly, and I snapped my mouth shut before I finished my sentence.

She sighed, letting her back slouch against the wall. "Don't call me that," she said to me.

"What?" I asked curiously. "A girl?" she opened her mouth, but I continued, cutting her off. "But you are one,"

She rolled her eyes. "No you dumbo," she said. "Don't call me Amelia."

"But that's your name." I said, tipping my head to the side.

"So?" she moped. "It's a stupid name. It's like an old lady name." she stopped to play with a piece of lint. "I am not an old lady."

"What else am I supposed to call you," I said accusingly.

She pressed her index finger to her chin, and started writing her name out in the dust-coated carpet.. "You should call me…" she glances down at the floor and used her hand to cover the first part of her name. "Lee-ah" she said finally.

"Leah?" I asked, staring at her.

"Yes," she said, nodding enthusiastically, "Lee-ah," she said, as a grin started to spread across her face. "But spelled with an i and an a, so it looks like this." She pressed her fingers against the carpet, and began wrote "Lia" in the dust.

"That looks weird," I said bluntly. "No one names their kid that,"

"No it doesn't," she snapped defensively. "It looks pretty, like a princess name." she smiled. "and all 'fisticated and stuff." she said, stretching out the big word I didn't know.

"No it doesn't," I repeated stubbornly.

She shrugged. "At least it looks better than Steve," she said writing my name down on the carpet. "Steve is an old man name," she said.

I glared at her, and added the last E at the end of my name. "It's what my mommy named me," I said feeling defensive. "It's a perfectly 'fisticated name."

"It is not," she said. "A 'fisticated name would be like…" she added two extra letters to the end of my name. Stevert.

I just stared at her. "That's a dumb name," I said. "Who has a name like "Stevert"?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders again. "It's nice," she said. "It's like a mix between Steve and Robert," she grinned. "Stevert," she said, trying the name on her tongue.

I withdrew in disgust. "Well can't call me that," I said, crossing my arms, hoping I looked intimidating.

"Okay," she said simply. "I won't call you Stevert if you promise to call me Lia when there is people around,"

"I promise," I said, holding my hand out, so it would be professional. "Do you, promise never to call me Stevert when there're people around?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded. "I promise," she said confidently. She took my hand and gave it a hard shake.

"Hey," I said, pulling my hand back. "That hurted," I said, crossing my arms.

"Well my daddy says you have to grip as hard as you can so they feel all scared and stuff," she said, smiling at me.

After what seemed like a few minutes spent talking with Amelia, Mrs. Nelson had scrambled into the hallway, looking ready to have a heart attack. When she first saw the two of us, she looked relieved. Then her face got all twisted up so that her head looked like it was about to pop off. She took us back to the classroom and yelled at us for having her all worried, and how we'd been gone for an entire hour. I don't know what the purpose of her saying that was, but it made me feel proud. I never spent a whole hour all alone, kind of.

When the final bell rang, Mrs. Nelson went up to Lia and told her that her daddy was parked outside the school.

Before she left, she walked towards me. "I like you, Steve," she said. "I 'cided you can be my friend."

I stuck my tongue out at her again. "You can be my friend too," I said.

She smiled at me. "Bye Steve," she said brightly, waving at me before she left, leaving Mrs. Nelson looking angrier than ever.

A/N: This is the longest time I've ever spent on a chapter. I also think it's the one with least mistakes. Beta Readers are awesome. =)

Reviews are (very, very, VERY) appreciated.