A/N: I do not own any characters in this story who are featured in the novel The Outsiders by SE Hinton.

I meandered off of the train and onto the platform in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where my older brother, Dallas, was waiting for me. I carried nothing but a small backpack that contained a black leather jacket that my ex-boyfriend was never getting back, a wad of cash held together by a rubber band, dark eyeliner, and a half empty pack of cigarettes.

"What took you so damn long, Dahl?" he asked me as he pulled my bag from my shoulder. He looked rather ridiculous carrying such a feminine bag, but with the tough glare set permanently on his face no one would have the guts to comment.

I rolled my eyes at him. It seemed that I was the only person in this town that had the nerve to stand up to my brother. "Traffic," I said flatly in my heavy New York accent.

"So is it time to meet "the gang" that you're always bragging about?" I asked as I climbed off the back of a slightly worn Ducati.

"Yeah," he said, looking fondly up at a small house whose door was left wide open. "This is Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy's house. Everyone pretty much lives here." He turned towards me, apparently reviving from his nostalgic haze. "You better not dress like that all of the time," he looked at my tight, low-cut tube dress and my motorcycle boots, "I won't hesitate to kick one of my buddies' asses if they mess around with my baby sister."

Again I rolled my eyes at him. "We're both seventeen! I'm only ten months younger than you, tough guy," I reminded him, "I can mess around all I want."

Dallas pushed on the small of my back, leading me up the front steps of the house and through the door. I sat down on the couch, which was located right by the door, only to discover that there was already someone stretched out and asleep on it.

"Ooooof!" said the boy on whose stomach I now was perched. I quickly shifted onto his legs so that he could breathe again, but I didn't move to get off of him. He took a deep breath and sat up, slightly bewildered as to why a strange girl was making herself comfortable on his lap. I looked around, realizing that Dallas had disappeared.

"Hi," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake, "I'm Dahlia Winston, but you can call me Dally if you'd rather not be punched in the balls." I smiled sweetly as I looked him over. He was tall; although his head had been laying flat on the seat, his legs were hanging off the arm of the couch from the knee down. He had steely gray eyes and copper colored hair that was now messy and in his face.

The boy laughed as if I'd just told a joke instead of threatened his manhood. "I would Darlin'," he said slowly in a southern drawl, "if that weren't already you brother's name." He laughed again, no doubt at my expression. "I'm Keith Mathews by the way, but you can call me Two-Bit. Everyone else does."

He whistled twice, once low and once high, seeming to inform all of the guys in the house of Dallas and my arrival. I was suddenly surrounded by a pack of teenage boys.

Dallas cut through the crowd like a knife, shoving his friends aside. "Guys, this is my baby sister, Dahlia. None of you go after her or there'll be hell to pay."

"Awe, but Dally you know I love blondes," Two-Bit whined humorously. I laughed knowing full well that Dallas and I shared the exact same shade of platinum hair.

I glared evilly at my brother as he turned to me. "Dahl, this is the gang. Meet Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Cade, Steve Randal, and…" he trailed of as he noticed my hand. I had unconsciously begun to stroke Two-Bit's thigh with my forefinger. Dallas cleared his throat and finished, "and I see you've already met Two-Bit."

I smirked a bit when I realized the effect I was having on Two-Bit; he was smiling widely and his face was turning a lovely shade of pink.

A/N: I desparately beg for your reviews.