A/N: This was in response to the December Rumble and I have decided to continue with it. :P

Disclaimer: Good Charlotte owns the title and S.E. Hinton owns the book. Thanks a bunch for the loans. :D

[December 1958]

"I heard your dad got arrested last night," Bobby said, his tone condescending as he stood next to me on the corner.

"You're lying," I muttered. My stepmom, Mary, had told me last night that he just had to work late into the night. Bobby Smith needed to get his facts straight and keep his mouth shut. Just because he was in fifth grade didn't mean he knew everything.

"My pop told me last night. I wasn't supposed to say anythin', but I figured you might wanna know."

"Your dad's a liar too."

He shoved me hard in the shoulder. "Fine, don't believe me. But don't come crying to me when you find out the truth."

I shoved him back; he didn't know anything and I told him so.

He started to cross the street. "You're the one who doesn't know anything, Dallas. According to my pop, your dad is a sleaze ball," he called over his shoulder as he reached the other side.

No one insulted my dad. I ran after him, barely avoiding an oncoming car, and tackled him to the ground. "Take it back!" I ordered.

"No, get off of me," he whined. Tough fifth grader my fourth grade ass.

I stayed put. "Take it back," I growled. I was taking control of the situation just like my dad always told me to. We'd sit on the front stoop for hours on end, talking about everything. My dad knew everything; I wanted to be just like him, know everything and anything. He was calm, cool and collected and he knew how to get what he wanted. Yep, my dad was the best.

Then you get fifth grade know-it-alls, like Bobby Smith, who think they know it all just because they have a little bit more money than most of the kids at our school. I always wanted to tell Bobby to go to a prep school if he was so well off, but my dad said I shouldn't until he deserved to be told off.

I figured insultin' my dad was a good a time as any. "I said, 'take it back.' Your pop ain't here to rescue you, so say it now!"

He pushed me off. "I take it back," he mumbled.

I shoved his shoulder. "Don't ever insult my family again, you hear? I'm sick of you thinkin' you're better than me 'cause you live in a better neighborhood."

He brushed himself off. "I said, 'I take it back.' Lay off already Dallas."

I watched him turn away and gathered the books I had dropped. Dad was always on me about my homework. Said, "You got to learn it before you can know it. Do your homework." Besides, he was always bringing his work home with him, calling it adult homework. I figured if he does his homework, then I should too.

Bobby stopped at another corner a few yards away. I could barely hear him mutter the words, "Just wait until he gets home… He'll be sorry."

I narrowed my eyes and considered tackling him again, but thought better of it and walked on home. My dad wouldn't like it very much if he got a call from Bobby's pop. I shuddered; I wouldn't like it either.

I turned the corner to my street to see cop cars lining it. My heart started beating wildly in my chest. Bobby couldn't be right, he just couldn't…

All of a sudden, there were police officers eyeing me and walking towards me. I stopped a stoop from my own and looked around. They were leading Mary out of the house in handcuffs.

She looked over at me and our eyes met. She bit her bottom lip and muttered something to the officer leading her by the arm. He jerked his head at me to another officer and it started a chain reaction. Officers surrounded me, approaching me cautiously, as if I would bolt.

I started to take a few steps back. My dad always told me to keep a safe distance between strangers and myself. Cops might be safe, but at that moment, they were taking away my stepmom.

"Easy there, son. We're here to help." A hand pressed into my back, stopping me from going any further.

I dropped my books and looked at the officers surrounding me. "What's going on?"

"Your mother and father got into some trouble, son. We're going to go for a ride now, okay? Until someone can pick you up."

I shook my head in disbelief. Bobby couldn't be right; he just couldn't be. "No," I whispered and made a break for it. I needed to talk to Mary; she'd set them straight. My dad was my hero; he was a good man; he couldn't have gotten arrested.

"Grab him," someone shouted and before I could get away, a pair of strong hands had grabbed onto me. They forced me into the back seat of a patrol car and shut me in there. I tried with all my might to escape but I was locked in.

"Who's the kid?"

"Dallas Winston. We're waiting on Social Services to find a foster home for the poor kid."

I pulled my knees up to my chin and rested against the arm of the couch. Weren't the police supposed to help you? My dad always said to go to one of them if I ever was in trouble. Well, my dad was in trouble and all they did was lock him up. I don't count that as helping.

My dad couldn't of done anything wrong; he was James Winston, after all.

"When's he get shipped to state?" Stupid cops thought I couldn't hear them. My dad always told me that if they're stupid to let you hear 'em, stupid enough to get caught, then what's theirs is yours.

"Sometime tonight. Until then, he's in the cell down the hall. Can you believe the fucker tried to embezzle all that money? Took his wife with him, even."

Like I said, stupid cops. I quietly stood up and slipped to where the cells were. My dad sat alone in the first cell; Mary was nowhere to be seen. I pressed my face against the cool metal of the bars. "Dad?"

I didn't recognize the man that turned to look at me. This man wasn't my dad; my dad was calm, cool, and collected. This… this imposter was dirty and defeated, hard beyond caring. "Dallas? What're you doing here?"

I wanted to cry at the sight of him; what had happened to my hero? "Dad? How come you're in here?"

He turned away from me, and I felt my breathing get shallow and tears sting my eyes. This man wasn't my dad; he wasn't the man who I had always wanted to be. My dad would have looked me straight in the eye, no matter how bad the news was. "Quit your crying, boy. Winstons don't cry."

I didn't want to be like my dad anymore…

Well...? :) or :( ?