A/N: Oh, look. Another Soda/Sandy fic from me. Aren't I so predictable? Well, I can't stay away. Those two are always in my mind. This is a little vignette, set maybe a few days before the book begins.
And, this is fanfiction. So, I really don't think I own the Outsiders.
Before the Storm
Sandy can taste laughter in the air.
It tastes like exhiliration and bile.
It's beautiful, this feeling. Seeing Soda smiling until, by any laws of physics, his face should hurt. His skin is alight with the bright lights. The music. He's happy, and he's peaceful in a glowing sort of way.
She has known him for nigh on two years. Two wonderful years. Whenever she's with him, all she can feel is the perfection. Is Soda. Is his grin and the sweet words and the dancing.
Sandy is glad he's always been there for her. Glad that, on all but her first try, she's found the right guy. Glad that he's made almost exactly to hold her, and that only he can give her this sense of completeness. He is her other half, she's sure of that.
But is that enough?
The answer: no. It wasn't enough.
Why?
Because she's pregnant. It's not Soda's.
She gave into the desire to find out what other men felt like, to find out the anti-perfection they could give her. It felt good, too, in a backwards kind of way.
Sandy knows she will have to let Soda know eventually.
But she herself has only known for three days.
She gives herself one last week to spend with him, and then a week alone.
Then comes the truth. It's required.
She can't do this to him; it would be cruel. She already has been.
She made a mistake. She's got to own up.
This is the calm before the storm.
For now, though, she can bask in the perfection. Sandy puts a hand on Soda's shoulder and lets him lead the dance.
I'm sorry, Soda.
Thus say the words that won't leave her mind.
They won't go past her lips, either.
I'm sorry.