Outsiders and That Was Then, This Is Now are both necessary to understand this story. This is sort of a continuation to my previous fic, Prom Nights, but its not really required to understand this story, although it'll help.

I once overheard someone say that I was the epitome of a greaser girl.

I wore too much make-up, swore too much, laughed too loud, and am too easy with boys. I was the sister of the toughest greaser in all of the East Side. But Tim was locked up right about now, Curly was in juvenile hall, and I was alone with mom and her boyfriend.

It's the end for me. At seventeen, I have crossed the line of having a reputation to being an embarrassment. Exaggerations and rumors have destroyed my life to the point of collapse. And I don't even think Tim would stick up for me now.

There are so many things I could have done differently.

I could have worn longer skirts and higher necklines. I could have never dated Bryon Douglass in the first place. I could have told Curtis straight away that I didn't tell that kid to do nothing to him, especially not to try to crack Ponyboy's head open with a bottle. But Shepard's don't make excuses for themselves. They're proud of everything credited to them.

I could have never slept with Jimmy Pickens. I could have waited longer to find out whether or not I was pregnant, rather than telling Tim and having him force me to marry Pickens straight off. I could have tried it out with Pickens, rather than leaving the minute I found out I wasn't pregnant.

I could have worn less make up and had a cleaner mouth. I could have quit sleeping around and drinking too much.

But then I wouldn't be Tim and Curly's sister. Its bad enough to be a greaser girl. But there's nothing worse than a grease trying to act like a soc. And no one could accuse me of that.

Maybe if I had explained to Ponyboy right after that guy tried to crack his head in, it wouldn't have escalated to this point. Maybe then his brothers wouldn't have hated me. Maybe then I wouldn't have had to do what I did.

But it wasn't about his brothers. Well, not entirely about them. I couldn't do that to Ponyboy. I know right now he's upset, but he'll get over it. He's going away to school in a week, he'll be so caught up in his new life that it won't take long. It'd be worse if I made him stay. If I told him the truth.

He couldn't leave then. He'd have to quit everything; he couldn't go to school anymore. He'd be abandoning everything he had worked for. He would never forgive me for it. And his brothers especially wouldn't.

Ponyboy will be fine. He'll get caught up in school and forget about me, God willing.

But I still don't know what I'm going to do. No one knows yet. I barely even found out myself a week ago. In a few months everyone will know, and it'd be impossible for Ponyboy not to find out.

What'll Tim say? I've embarrassed him too many times, he won't forgive me again. This baby growing inside me is going to tear down the last final shreds of my life.

I won't be the tough greaser girl anymore. I'll be the one who became a victim of her surroundings.

I scratched at the pink plaid draping my bed, its been the same one for years. I remember when I used to have nightmares, I would make Tim come in here and lay down with me. He's real soft when he wants to be; its not easy for him to drop his hood front, but when he does, there's no one sweeter.

He'll be out in two weeks, and for the first time, I wish it were longer.

A thud sent a tremor through the house, and I knew Frank was throwing something, probably aiming for Mom. I knew if this escalated enough, Frank would head upstairs to my room to scream for one reason another. I grabbed a sweater and walked down the rear steps and through the back door, and before long I was walking the streets of downtown Tulsa.

I passed the drug store, where two fourteen year old girls were having milk shakes and giggling. That age seemed forever ago; three years can feel like a century. I felt so old then; I thought I was mature and knew everything there was to know. Looking back, I didn't know anything. I wonder if that's how I'll feel three years from now about how I am today. I'll have a three year old child then.

I tried to get past the burger joint where my brother's outfit hangs out as quick as possible, I'm not in the mood for their antics or hackling.

And then I saw him. He was standing on the corner in front of the diner, smoking a cigarette. I wanted to run, run as fast as I could back in the other direction, run back home, run back and get slapped around by Frank, anything but see him.

But then he saw me first. And I couldn't run.

Alright, so, there may be more chapters coming, or this may be a one-shot, depending on the reviews. For background info on this story, check out my other fic, Prom Nights.