Hello again! I have two other Outsider fics. One of them, Here, I will continue soon. The other, All I Wanted, didn't receive any responses, so I will be dropping it. I hope you like this one. It's been toying around in my mind for some time, but I never had the motivation to actually start it. Please, if you have any comments or w/e, you know what to do ;p

A/N: Okay! A few things:

1)This is a major AU.

2)The main character is basically Ponyboy, only Ponyboy is actually Ponygirl. That is correct! I have turned Ponyboy Michael Curtis into Ponygirl Michelle Curtis, also known as Girle. So, as such, you can imagine the story to go a little differently.

3)The time-line starts off the same as the book, but will start changing in the second chapter simply to make sense of my story. I promise that I will be returning to the book's timeline as the story progresses.

4)Girlie is going to be fifteen, not fourteen. Johnny and Soda will be 17. Everyone else will remain their original ages.

5)All the characters descriptions will be the same as in the book, with the exception of Girlie (duh) and Dally. I really like movie version Dally…Hmm…Matt Dillon.

5)Everything else is the same.

That's All Folks! ( please, ignore any grammar mishaps you may stumble upon, thanks!)

Chapter 1 ~

When I stepped out into the street from the inside of the movie house, I had more than a few things on my mind: Paul Newman, a ride home, and why I waited this late to see a movie. The air was cool against my skin and stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. I love the night, the quiet and serenity of it. A light breeze bustled slowly by me. Normally, I would savor the feeling of the wind coming in contact with my skin, but it was early spring and the weather was still slightly chilly. I pulled my jacket closer and turned to walk down the street, heading home before the sun disappeared completely and left me with the moon and flickering street-lamps as my only sources of light.

I wish the guys in Tulsa could be like Paul Newman. He was tough, but he usually had his reasons, not like the boys around here that just liked to pick fights for the heck of it. In his movies, there was always some sort of goal for him to conquer, and it almost always involved a girl. I snorted as I thought about the kind of girl guys like Paul Newman would face obstacles to be with; girls that were beautiful and built, had bodies that an average girl could only dream of. Those guys would never risk anything for girls like me, Greaser girls. We weren't the type of dames you would expect to be worth much of anything. Greaser girls wore too much makeup, swore too much, and wore their skirts at an inappropriate length. Not to mention, we were notorious sluts. It's true for the most part. But, not all of us were like that.

I wasn't like that.

My reflection stared back at me when I stopped in front of the glass windows of a barber shop. I wasn't bad looking, I guess. I had light-brown, almost-red hair that hung down to the middle of my back in large curls. My eyes were a greenish-gray, but I hated them; they betrayed me all the time. I could never keep anything to myself, not one feeling- my eyes would give it away. I started walking again, anxious to get home now that it was almost totally dark out.

A red Corvair drove slowly beside me. The boys inside whistled at me and yelled things that made me blush. They speed away but I walked faster, finally afraid of what could happen if I didn't get inside. I felt the blush on my cheeks slowly brighten when I thought about those boys and what they yelled. It still amazed me how much attention I was getting from the opposite gender.

Ever since I turned fourteen, boys had been starting to treat me different. They would do things like stare at me and whistle, ask me out on dates and try to hold my hand. I wasn't stupid, I knew what they liked about me- I do have two brothers and a gang full of boys, after all- but I didn't really understand what I was suppose to do about it. That seemed like forever ago. I've learned so much about what to do with a boy, how to do it, and even what they like. But no one seems to be able to tell me why. I'm not like the other Greaser girls, I had never…gone all the way with a boy. I mean, I have kissed boys and fooled around and stuff, but nothing else. I guess I was afraid of what my brothers would do if they ever found out. I tried not to smile at the image of Darry holding Curly Shepard by the collar for having his hand a little too high on my ribcage for Darry's liking, but the look on Curly's face was just priceless. Not that I blame him for being scared, Darry's kinda big. Not many guys asked me out for awhile after that.

I could see the lights from my house breaking through the darkness of the night. I breathed a sigh of relief. I stilled for a moment, though. It was late. Darry was gonna kill me. I groaned, wanting to shoot myself in the foot for being so stupid. I never use my head, if I did, I would have realized that 6:00 was too late to go see a movie when it gets dark at 8:00. I should have asked Johnny to come with me, or anyone from the gang, but I just didn't like company all that much whenever I go see a movie. It disturbed me, kinda like someone reading your book over your shoulder.

Thoughts of Johnny caused me to pick up my pace. I guess I had been slowing down, lost in my thoughts, and hadn't noticed that I was traveling at a snail's pace. A car could be heard in the short distance, it made me shudder. I remember when we had found Johnny, barely alive in the abandoned lot my gang would sometimes play football in. He was bleeding and bruised, his breathing ragged and his face swollen so badly that I couldn't even recognize him I hate the Socs for doing that to him. I hate the Socs for everything. They got all the lucky breaks, got all the best opportunities and well-wishes simply because they were who they were. The Greasers got nothing but a bad name and an even worse expectation rate. We barely survived, while the Socs rolled around in their shiny play things, looking for a Greaser to kick around simply because they were bored and we were there.

I didn't notice when the red Corvair I had saw earlier swerved to a stop. By the time I did, it was too late. They were already getting out. Now I really hated myself for seeing that movie. I watched as the side doors quickly swung open, creaking and revealing fine dressed boys. They were Socs. An empty bottle landed on the ground with a dull clanging noise when the one next to the driver's side stepped out. They stumbled over to me and I could feel my heart banging in my head, nearly deafening me with the rushing sound of blood. By the time I realized that running would be the appropriate thing to do, I was being backed against the side of an abandoned house.

A boy- who I assumed to be the leader- wearing a blue madras shirt, advanced toward me. "Hello, Greaser." His speech was slurred and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

They were Socs, and they were drunk.

I was breathing heavily by this time, thought having escaped me, driven out by fear. He leaned his head into my hair, sniffing and making small humming sounds. The smell of alcohol and English Leather shaving lotion was making me sick, and I wondered if I would suffocate. " You probably shouldn't have turned me down when I asked you out the other day."

My eyes widened. The boy in the blue madras, the one violating my personal space, I knew I had recognized him from somewhere. He had came up behind me one day last week while I was standing by my locker. He said he had never laid into a Greaser girl before and would be 'honored' to test me out. I had spit in his face and told him where to go and how fast he could go to get there. I didn't even know his name. Boy, do I regret doing that now.

He had his hand on my waist, lifting my shirt. I could hear the other boys chuckling and whistling their approval. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, willing it all to disappear, wanting to make them go away. " How about we give this another shot, huh? Whata ya say?"

I finally came up with a response. " No."

"No? Well, see babe, I don't really appreciate you hurtin' my feelings the way ya did. Not at all." His words were difficult to make out. He probably didn't realize this in such a drunken state. "And I 'specially don't like bein' turned down by a dirty, Greaser slut."

When his hand made its way to the edge of my bra, I kneed him in the groin. He backed off immediately, whimpering and holding his damaged goods. I was free, but not for long. Someone had their fist in my hair. I screamed, being tugged harshly by the ends of my hair into the rough arms of one of the bigger of the four boys. The one that I had me backed against the wall-trapped-put his hands on my shoulders, keeping me steady as he pushed me to the ground. Everything was moving too fast. I couldn't keep up with what was happening, much less fight.

He is on top of me at this point and I am frantically flailing my arms and legs as much as I can. I was screaming, "Soda! Darry!" Gravel was digging into the sensitive flesh of my partly exposed back, but I didn't bother to notice just then.

A fist collided with left cheek, and I was honestly shocked. I knew they were angry- at the world, at themselves, at everything in general- and that they wanted to scare me, but I didn't know what to think of them hitting me, a girl. " Hold her down and shut her up!" He yelled from on top of me, straddling my waist. My arms were held down by my wrists and a handkerchief was being shoved into my mouth. I couldn't move, I could hardly breath. I couldn't do anything. So, I lay there, tears streaming down my face, wincing at my stinging cheek and the harsh gravel sticking into my now, probably bleeding, skin.

It suddenly occurred to me that if they could go this far to hurt me, then they could rape me, or worse, kill me.

I panicked, going into survival mode. I tried to buck him off of me. It was a stupid move on my part, but I guess when you are about to get raped, the smartest thing isn't exactly on your list of top things to be concerned about. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a blade, lowering it just below my chin on the right. The metal was cold and pierced my skin like I imagined a knife sliding across butter. I shivered, fighting off the thought of blood and nausea. His mouth was near my ear. I could feel his lips moving against my skin as he talked, and I gagged.

" If you keep being difficult, I'll cut ya!"

I kept my eyes shut and my mind focused on the feel of his blade against my neck rather than the feel of his hand on my thigh. I couldn't believe how much I would rather feel my neck being sliced open then the weight of him on top of me. His erection was pressing into me, but so was his blade, so I resisted the overwhelming urge to buck him off again.

" You sure are a pretty little thing, Grease."

Ignore him, I thought. I tried to, I really did, but when I felt his fingers slide under the elastic of my panties, my eyes shot open. "He's gonna rape me right here". I wasn't prepared for the sharp pain between my thighs, the intruding feel of his fingers.

I was screaming! I was shouting! Why isn't anyone coming for me? I wondered.

My vision was blacking out, little bubbles of color appearing here and there in front of me. I was losing consciousness. Good. I don't think I can take anymore of this. Too busy with the stabbing pain and blacking out, I didn't realize that there wasn't anyone straddling me or holding me down anymore until the sound of screeching tires and yelling reached my confused ears.

Rough hands reached underneath my knees and back, lifting me to rest against a strong chest. I gasped and started thrashing about, kicking and screaming. "No! Darry! Soda!"

He tried to shush me but I just kept yelling, so desperate I was sick. "It's okay, Girlie. I got ya, now. It's okay."

I opened my eyes and looked up to see the face of my oldest brother. Then the world disappeared as I tightened my eyes, screwing them shut against the world around me. I took in the masculine scent of Darry, tears somehow escaping from the slits of my eyelids.

Normally, I wouldn't even dare to consider crying in front of Darry, you just didn't do that kind of stuff around him. Today, though, I did. And I couldn't bring myself to care.

Well, there it is! Tell me what ya think. Should I continue?