I was laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling listlessly. I could hear someone rumaging around in the living room, and I groaned. It was six thirty on a Saturday - under any normal conditions, I would still be fast asleep. But one of my newly acquired roommates snored, one of them was an early waker, and the other ones just caused me to be too stressed to sleep.

Slowly, I stood up, stifling a yawn. I wanted my other roommates to stay asleep. I stepped over the three of them that were sleeping on my floor, and carefully opened my bedroom door.

"Heya baby, awake already?" called a voice from the kitchen.

I rubbed my groggy eyes, trying to make my face look less tired. "What are you doing up?" I finally answered, walking into the kitchen. I still felt shock when I saw who I was talking with; I still wasn't used to the idea of having fictional characters living in my house.

I was standing face-to-face with Sodapop Curtis, of the book The Outsiders. He grinned goodnaturedly, and I couldn't help but smile back. Soda had that hold over people; he smiled, you smiled. He laughed, you laughed.

"I was makin' breakfast...that's okay, ain't it?" he asked as an after-thought, looking sheepish. "I just wanted to help out, ya know? Since the seven of us are all freeloadin' on ya"

I shook my head, thinking about the seven boys my house now held - Soda, his younger brother Ponyboy, his older brother Darry, Steve, Dally, Johnny, and Two-Bit. Johnny, Pony, and Two-Bit were the three that had been asleep on my floor (and Two-Bit was the snorer). Darry, Steve, Soda, and Dally had shared the spare bedroom. I kept wondering how I was going to explain this to my mother; she was away on business for a week, and (though I'm only fifteen) had left me home alone.

Now when she came back, I'd have seven greasers with me.

Oh good lord.

"You're fine, Soda," I finally replied. I could smell coffee brewing, and wondered how he figured out how to use a coffee pot. Or maybe coffee pots had already been invented in the 60's, where he was from - I wasn't sure. "What're you making?" I asked. "Is there enough for everyone"

Soda nodded eagerly. "I made a little of everything. Some pancakes, some sausage, some waffles. And that nasty-smelling vegetarian sausage for you," he added. I smiled at how thoughtful he was. "I still don't get how you don't eat meat. You sure you ain't a hippie or nothin"

I laughed. "Soda, just finish making breakfast. You think the other guys'll be up soon"

He shrugged. "Pony'll probably wake up soon. He ain't too fond of sleeping away from home. And Johnnycake probably didn't even sleep. Poor kid, he's a wreck. The others might take awhile." He went back to making pancakes, and I felt myself wondering where he learned to cook - but I shrugged the thought away.

I thought about Johnny and Dally, and felt myself smile. I was glad that they were alive. I wasn't sure why they weren't dead; but hell, I wasn't even sure why I had seven fictional greasers sleeping in my house. I couldn't figure it out. I had been reading The Outsiders late one night, and I had fallen asleep shortly after the scene at the drive-in. The next morning, I awoke to the Greasers, all of them in a panic. Of course, me screaming my head off didn't do much to calm them.

That had been yesterday. By now, we had all grown used to each other - and I must admit, stressful as this whole ordeal was, I was loving it. My favorite book, my favorite characters. It was heaven, underneath the hell of the situation. I still wasn't sure what to do. How the hell did I get them back in the book? And would they want to go back?

I walked back into my room, grabbing my cell phone. I accidentally stepped on someone.

"Owww!" exclaimed Ponyboy, sitting up quickly. "Did you just step on me?" he asked, staring at me.

I had to hold back a laugh. "Sorry, Pony. Accident," I replied, holding up my hands in an "I'm innocent" gesture.

He smiled, looking tired still. "Alright." He started getting up. "Everyone else up?" he asked.

"Just me and Soda, I think. It's pretty early. Only seven or so. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Pony shook his head. "Nah, I'll get up. Might as well. And you said you'd get that book for me today, right? I promise I won't get scared of it or nothin'."

I cringed inwardly. I wish I could have kept the fact that the boys were from a book secret, but when I first saw them, I had exclaimed, "Oh my gosh! You guys are from The Outsiders!". Plus, it would have been unfair to not explain to them that they came from a book. The only one I really told this to was Ponyboy; I knew he was smart and could figure out what to do about this. And now, Pony wanted to read his book. He knew it was about them, and I had told him it might scare him or freak him out. His reply had been a shrug.

"I still don't get how we got here," Pony said after a moment of silence. "We're from the 60's...but you know that, you've read our book. And it's only fair that I get to read our book. You keep talking about getting us back in there. I want to know what happens in our book. I mean, two nights ago I was at the drive-in with Johnny and Cherry Valance. The last thing I remember, Johnny and I were in the lot." Pony stopped to take a breath, looking thoughful. "Does that all happen in the story?" I nodded. "And stuff happens after that, right?" I nodded again, and Pony looked serious. "I guess if I read the book, it'll be like cheatin' at life. But I think I need to."

"Whatever you want, Pony. I'll go grab it for you," I replied, stepping over Johnny and Two-Bit. I walked out into the living room (ignoring the smell of something burning, that was coming from the kitchen), and glanced through the books on my bookshelf. After a few seconds, I found the book - The Outsiders. I pulled it off the shelf gingerly, holding it lightly between two hands. It was funny to think that the characters I had always loved were now lulling around my house, as if they belonged in the twenty-first century.

I heard my bedroom door open, and a second later Pony and Johnny were sitting on the couch. Johnny kept yawning, and I had to fight down a smile. "Here you go Pony," I said, sitting down next to him and handing him the book. "Don't say anything to the others before you talk to me, 'kay?"

"He already told me about it," Johnny said softly, a note of pride in his voice. I guess he felt special that Pony would confide something so important to him. "I ain't scared, neither," he said, looking at me. "I mean, it's weird that all this happened and everything, but I think it musta happened for a reason."

I thought about that for a moment. "You know, Johnny...that makes me feel better." Ponyboy had moved to the other, smaller couch and was curled up with the book. I looked up at Johnny's face and smiled sadly. "I keep feeling so terrible that I've got you guys into this mess. I mean, I didn't really do anything...but at the same time, I did. You know? I took you guys from the place you knew, and put you here. And I don't know how to get you back."

Johnny looked as if he was easing up. "If it's any comfort to ya, I really didn't like Tulsa all that much. I just wonder what's going on there now, if we aren't there. Did we just stop existing there? Or are we all missing?"

Johnny's dark eyes looked thoughtful, and I'm sure my blue ones did too. "I have no idea. I mean, up until now - you guys didn't exist. But you did. It's almost like...we're all just in a story. You guys fell out of your story, and into mine. Maybe...maybe life is just all a big book, with all different kinds of stories."

Johnny yawned again, and I smiled. "All this thinkin' makes me tired," he said, sounding amused. "But what you said makes a lotta sense. It would explain what happened with us. But then would that mean that every book is an actual story, with real people, that really exist?" Johnny ran a hand through his hair, looking at me expectantly.

Shrugging, I replied, "I have no clue, Johnny. No clue at all."

"Breakfast is ready!" shouted Soda all of the sudden. "Wake up, you freeloading greasers!" he called.

"Johnny?" I asked, "Does Soda...know how to...actually...cook?"

Johnny laughed, standing up. "No clue at all, Jenna. No clue at all."

I stood up to, and playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Cute, Johnny," I said dryly. He just laughed again, and I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. And at how comfortable he seemed to be with me. As Johnny walked into the kitchen, I headd toward Pony. "How're ya doing?" I asked, studying his face for any hint of emotion. It was void of any readable feeling.

"Jenna, this is really weird," he said after a minute. "Really weird. How...who's S.E. Hinton? How does she know about us?"

I wasn't sure how to answer this question. "Pony...she made you guys up."

"Oh, so we don't exist?" Pony asked, standing up. We were the same height, so we stood eye-to-eye - his whole face looked intense and confused, and I felt a pange of pity for him. "Am I not standing right in front of you? Jenna, those things happened to me! They happened to all of us!" he cried, straining to keep his voice down.

"How...how far have you gotten?" I asked awkwardly. It was the end of the book that I was afraid would upset or scare him. I wasn't sure if he would be able to take it.

"We're at the drive-in with Dally and he's being a jerk to Cherry. And that's exactly how it happened, almost word for word. And my thoughts are exact too. What the hell?" he cried, his voice sounding shaky and getting a little higher. "What the hell is going on?"

"I wish I could tell you," I said sadly, putting my hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry Pony. I'm sorry I got you guys into this mess."

Pony thought about this for a moment, staring me into the face. Thinking about his description in the book, I almost wanted to smile - his eyes seemed more gray than green; I knew he would love to know that...though this was hardly the right time to say anything. Finally, Pony spoke. "This was bound to happen. If not to you, to someone else. Something's going on, and we were meant to come out of that book. And for the record, I'm glad we ended up with you. I know it's probably not fun to have to baby-sit seven teenage boys from the 60's...but you're really great. Thank you."

Before I could reply, he turned and walked away, heading toward the kitchen. A smile took over my face, and I trudged toward my room and the spare room. In the hallway, I called, "Two-Bit! Dally! Steve! Darry! Wake up and come get your breakfast!"

From inside my room, I heard Two-Bit grumbling. "Damn, that's one little broad that can yell..."