A/N: This is my first story in about four years. The first chapter is a lot shorter than the others will be, but I thought a simple little introduction would be better. Just for the record, I understand that a lot of people can't stand OOC stories. In this first chapter Ponyboy might seem it, but the reason for it is explained in the next couple of chapters (that and it's based on the narrator's retelling of something). So please don't judge on my portrayal of characters just yet.
Thanks, and enjoy!

Chapter 1

Somehow after school, I always found myself seated on the living room sofa, drinking a cola and staring at the TV screen. Never turned it on or anything, just stared and thought. It was the only time of day that I really got to think. In the morning there was too much chaos around the house, and I could never think in class. I was always afraid my teacher, or worse, my friends, would know what I was thinking about.

But at home, on the couch where I was alone, I could think. Think about school, or my friends. It gave me a chance to remember my parents, who had been dead for what would soon be a year. Sometimes I was afraid I would forget them, and what they looked like. I figured I must have been a horrible daughter not ever knowing what my folks faces were like.

Everyday it was the same. I would be sitting there, deep in thought, when my brother Ponyboy would come in in interrupt me. Usually he had a friend with him, but on this particular day he was alone.

"Hey Lily," he said from behind me. I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice.

I didn't answer him though. Wasn't in the mood to deal with him, not after he had embarrassed me in front of my friends that morning.

"Don't say hi back or nothing," he joked and went off into the kitchen. Sometimes I didn't get my brother. If ever anyone said something to upset him, he would remember it for days, but when he was the one doing the upsetting, he'd go on about his business like nothing had happened.

I could hear Pony rummaging through the kitchen; no doubt he was looking for food. I was just waiting for him to bring up what had happened that morning, but he said nothing. Finally I couldn't take it any longer. I jumped to my feet and marched into the kitchen.

"Ponyboy!" I snapped, hands on my hips.

He turned around from the fridge and nearly laughed when he saw me. I guess I did look pretty silly, trying to look intimidating in a pair of overalls and a pink blouse, but I didn't appreciate the amused look on his face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me!" I nearly screamed. "You yelled at me in front of all my friends, and you're asking what's wrong with me!"

His face got a bit serious then, and he crossed his arms. "You're coming in here to yell at me because I yelled at you, after you intentionally ruined my homework?"

I nodded. It seemed reasonable to me.

"I hate to break this to you," he said in a voice that showed he really had no problem with what he was saying, "but when I get mad at you, you don't get to come back and yell at me for it. Especially since you're the one who did something wrong."

"Well why'd you have to yell at me in front of my friends? And threaten too? None of their brothers ever threaten them!"

"But none of them have dead parents," he pointed out.

I just let out a deep sigh because I knew he was right. But when he said nothing else and began to walk away from me, I started up again.

"Next time you want to yell and scream at me," I said maybe a little too loudly, "do it inside or don't do it at all!"

He stopped walking and looked at me over his shoulder. "I'll remember that next time I decide to take orders from a nine-year-old."

"I'm near ten!" I defended myself.

"Yeah, and I'm near fifteen, but I'm not there yet."

Not even two minutes later I found myself locked in the bathroom, standing on a stool and staring at myself in the mirror. I wouldn't say I was much to look at. Used to think my eyes were blue, but now they seemed grey. I wished my hair was different too. When I was born it was so blond that it was white, but now it was practically brown. And not a nice brown either. It was sort of dusty looking, not quite dark blond, but too light to actually be brown. It wasn't long and pretty like some girls' I knew, and it wasn't short and nicely trimmed like others'. Instead it was thin and wavy, and hung just below my shoulders. I ran my fingers through the tangles, trying to fix it up a bit, but it only seemed to make it worse. Nothing I ever did made my hair look pretty.

My face was round, and babyish. I turned my head from side to side, but couldn't seem to find any angle that made it look nice. Soda told me he liked my face, that it was cute, but I didn't believe him. He just had a way of trying to make me feel better, and it only ever worked for a little while.

One thing about myself I will say that I liked when I looked in that mirror was my nose. It reminded me of my mama's nose, and was the only thing about me that really seemed to tie me in with my family.

I pulled my hair back to see what it would look like if it was shorter. Not much nicer. If I was a boy, would I look like one of my brothers? Probably not. All three of them looked at least like they were related. Not only was I a girl, but I looked nothing like them.

As I thought about it, I realized that being a boy wouldn't change anything. It was because I was so much younger that I was so different. Maybe if I was a little closer to Pony's age I would fit in better.

Suddenly, I forced myself to cry. I glared at myself until the tears blurred my vision, and then I blinked, letting them roll down my rosy cheeks. It was then that I noticed that the red in my watery eyes made the grey appear green.

Maybe, I thought to myself, makeup will help me. As I thought more and more about it, I moved over to the edge of the bathtub, and sat down. I was crying awfully hard, but they were real tears, not forced ones, and I couldn't make them stop.

I don't know how long I sat there crying, but I do know that I had a lot to cry about. I cried because my parents were gone, and because I felt left out with my brothers. Because I didn't want to go to school the next day, and because I was tired. Most of all though, I cried because I didn't know why I was so upset.

There was a horrible head ache that came with the tears, and my nose was pretty runny. Then, came the loud pounding on the bathroom door.

"Lily!" a deep voice yelled. "Open up!"