Well, I haven't been on fanfiction in a long time, but I recently reread and re-watched the Outsiders and then I got the idea for this story.

I'm honestly a bit anxious about posting this because I know very little about 1960's America, but I'm trying my best to make sure everything fits with the time this is set. It'll probably get better as I get used to it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders and the story title comes from the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers song of the same name.

Anyway, happy reading!


You do something to me that I can't explain

Hold me closer and I feel no pain

Every beat of my heart

We got something going on

- Islands in the Stream; Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers


The new house loomed over me as I stared up at it, admittedly a little uncomfortable with the size of it. It was huge, terribly huge; much bigger than the one we'd lived in in Boston. It was almost menacing – the windows were like glaring eyes, the large door a mouth that would eat me whole. It seemed too big for this little town.

It's funny looking back; I never thought this would also apply to me.

Part of me didn't even want to step inside the house, because I knew that would be the moment everything changed. Although I was aware that we needed a fresh start, I hated that we had to move states in order to achieve that. My parents desired a complete change of scenery, thus leaving the city in exchange for this one-horse town. I continued to stare up at the house as my mom stepped up beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "It'll get easier," she told me. I glanced at her, taking into account the haunted look that still lingered in her eyes, though their blueness was a lot brighter now. I offered a small smile, before turning to assist my dad upon hearing him open the trailer that held our possessions.

Seeing our belongings boxed up caused a knot to form somewhere in my chest, and I couldn't help wondering when exactly things would start to get easier.

I was adventurous at heart, but after arriving in Tulsa I ventured no further than my back yard. That was the only part of the house I truly liked, due to the fact that our old yard in Boston didn't live up to the standard of the house. For the first couple of weeks I slowly unpacked, I read, and I sulked. If we had made this move a couple of years ago, I would've left my parents to do all the unpacking while I explored every inch of this new town. I probably would have even made a friend that very same day. But a lot had changed in the past few months.

I wasn't miserable, not at all. I was just a little homesick. I was so accustomed to the sounds of city life that the tranquillity of my neighbourhood was a little unsettling. My parents adjusted quite quickly considering, and I could tell they were hoping I'd settle soon as well. They often mentioned that I should go out and see the town, maybe meet someone, but every time they did I reminded them school was starting soon and that would be the place I'd make any friends. It wasn't very likely that I would bump into someone interesting just by wandering around town.

It was one day in the week before school started when one of our neighbours finally decided to introduce themselves. I opened the door to a women with sandy hair and dark eyes, the teenager beside her looked almost exactly the same but for the eyes.

"Hey, there!" The woman greeted cheerfully. I reminded myself that the accent was something I'd have to get used to. "I'm Mary Wilson, this here's my daughter Nancy." Nancy gave me a small wave and I smiled weakly in response. My mom appeared at my side just as Mary was saying, "We live just down the street, we wanted to make sure y'all were settled in before we welcomed you to the neighbourhood."

My mom glanced between Nancy and me. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Now I didn't have to go out and find a friend – a friend had just turned up at my front door. Little did I know that Nancy Wilson would end up being my best friend.


The next time I saw Nancy was the following Monday when she picked me up in a bright red Ford Mustang. My mom had insisted that I let her drive me to school, despite the fact I'd only met her once. I think she was desperate for me to make friends. At least Nancy's car was cool.

The entire morning I obsessed over what to wear, how to have my hair. I eventually decided on the blue dress with the belt at the waist, the one my dad said made my blue eyes stand out. I figured it was a good choice when Nancy nodded appreciatively upon seeing me walk towards her car.

Nancy was the smiliest girl I'd ever met; she sang along to the radio while I checked over my schedule. It made the first few minutes of the car ride less awkward, anyway. Soon, she reached out to turn the volume down slightly, tilting the rear-view mirror to an angle that allowed her to see my face.

"So, my mom tells me you're from Boston," she said conversationally. "I bet Tulsa's a big change from that."

I snorted. "You got that right."

Nancy grinned. "That's so cool, I've never even left this place in my whole life," she told me, brushing the hair from her face. I studied her properly for a moment then. Her yellow dress made her grey eyes look silver, her sandy hair was adorned with a white ribbon. At first glance, she looked like the kind of girl who was a lot meaner than she actually was. But, as I later learned, I didn't really let the way people looked alter my impressions of them, even if I should have.

Nancy continued speaking, unaware of me watching her, "That'll impress my friends, too. I'll introduce you, if you want? You'll like 'em."

"Oh, yeah, okay," I said, surprised. Hell, I'd only just met her and she already wanted me to meet her friends. I really didn't want to impose, but I could already hear my parents' voices echoing in my head: Made any friends yet, Roxanne? I shuddered, I hated the idea of them constantly pestering me about this. So, I decided sitting with Nancy and her friends at lunch wouldn't be too bad.

I definitely fit right in with the freshman at Will Rogers High School; I was just as confused and bewildered as they were. After the warning bell rang, Nancy gave me quick directions to my English Literature class, as she had to get to chemistry, though she promised she'd see me in history – the period before lunch. I wondered briefly if she was only looking out for me because her mom told her to, after all, we were from the same neighbourhood. Not to mention we were of the same social status, I didn't learn until sometime after our first meeting how important this actually was in Tulsa.

Despite the directions Nancy gave me, I managed to get myself lost, causing me to turn up to class when every seat but mine was taken. I faltered at the doorway when numerous pairs of eyes landed on my intruding figure, though I hurriedly gathered myself and explained to the teacher that I was new. Thankfully, Mr. Warren was understanding and directed me to my seat with a smile, even though it was obvious which was mine.

I sat beside a boy who I didn't manage to get a good look at, mainly because he wouldn't give me the chance. Every time I even glanced anywhere remotely in his direction, he'd turn his head away and sink a little lower in his seat. When he wasn't doing this, he would fidget relentlessly. Surely I should have been the one acting this nervous, I was the New Kid, after all.

Mr. Warren's first assignment was for us to write a short description about ourselves, something interesting, and share it with the person sitting next to us. "This is the person who'll be your neighbour for the rest of the year," he explained. "Get to know each other."

I stared at the piece of paper in front of me for a good ten minutes, trying to decide what to write. Something interesting? Perhaps the most interesting thing about me was the fact I was from Boston. I mean, it had impressed Nancy. Eventually, I had comprised a small paragraph consisting of my hobbies and things I liked, nothing too fancy, I thought.

The boy sat next to me didn't have to read a paragraph for him to seem interesting to me; I was instantly drawn in by his name.

I read it over his shoulder and in my surprise accidentally muttered it out loud: "Ponyboy Curtis."

His eyes snapped to me so fast I almost fell out of my seat in shock at the sudden eye contact, after he'd been so keen to avoid it. He was young, younger than anybody else in the room. He dressed differently, too, drastically different to the people I saw in my neighbourhood. Jeans, plain black shirt, and hair slicked with grease. When Nancy and I had arrived at school, I had noticed a few guys hanging around outside dressed a similar way, a lot of them also wore leather jackets.

There was definitely a clash of social class in this town, but it didn't begin to affect me personally until I had been in Tulsa for a while.

Something in this boy's expression dared me to ridicule him, make fun of him the way people had countless times before. But the softness in his green eyes had me smiling and saying, "That's a great name."

For a moment he looked taken aback, confused even, then finally I noticed the flicker of relief that crossed his face. He could have been relieved that I hadn't made a comment like he expected, or that he didn't have to call me out on it. I didn't know. I also didn't know how pivotal this meeting between Ponyboy Curtis and I would be for my life, or how different things could have been if I had reacted differently to hearing his name for the first time.

"I'm Roxanne Kennedy," I introduced myself, before picking up the piece of paper in front of me. "Guess I should tell you some interesting facts besides my name, though."

I told him all the boring stuff first, like the fact I had moved from Boston (to which he replied "That's why you got that funny accent." This was the first thing he ever said to me and I never forgot how much it made me laugh). Then I went on to speak of my love of music; the fact I played three instruments and I loved the Beatles, but probably loved Bob Dylan and Elvis Presley more. One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was probably my favourite book, and I wished it was more acceptable for girls to wear pants.

Ponyboy had a lot more going for him than just his name. He was fourteen, but so smart he had been put up a grade. He liked to read and draw pictures and was on the track team. And he loved his older brother more than anyone else in the world.

I had to say, I was charmed by the kid that very first time I met him. Something about him was so pure. Oh, and he liked Elvis, too.

Nancy stuck to her word and saved me a seat beside her in history, greeting me with her usual wide grin. Entering the room, I immediately noticed the two guys sat at the back dressed similarly to Ponyboy, though these two looked a little more menacing. Nancy caught onto what I was looking at and leant towards me once I'd sat next to her. "Don't worry about 'em," she said. "They should leave you alone, you have the upper hand."

It wouldn't be until the following day that I really understood what she meant. But, for now, I nodded at Nancy's statement. I figured they were the kind of guys to disrupt class and never get anywhere. I was sort of right, but there was much more to it than that. Back then, I had a really naïve view of the divide in Tulsa, now I find it embarrassing to think I believed all the problems were down to the clothes we wear.

These two guys sat directly behind Nancy and I, and they would not stop talking for the life of them. Nancy seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to my tolerance levels. She allowed me to shoot the guys a couple of glares, but the one time I opened my mouth to snap at them she sent me a warning look. I only complied because she knew this place better than I did, she knew how things worked.

After class was dismissed for lunch, one of the guys shoved past me so roughly in the hall that I swore loudly after him. "What's wrong with those guys?" I asked Nancy as we walked together.

"They're just hoods, ignore 'em," she replied dismissively. "Come on, I can't wait to introduce you to the girls."

Nancy and I queued for our food before she led me to a table in the centre of the cafeteria. This was when I was hit with another realisation about the social hierarchy of this town; there wasn't a leather jacket or greased hair in sight.

At the table sat four other girls, all wearing dresses or knee-length skirts and blouses. Nancy sat down first and I followed her lead, smiling somewhat awkwardly at these unfamiliar girls.

"Hey, y'all, this is Roxanne," Nancy announced. "She's from Boston." She had been right – this impressed them.

First there was Cynthia King, with chocolate hair and chocolate eyes; she was on the gymnastics team and was madly in love with John Lennon. Next there was Peggy Richardson, with platinum blonde hair and hazel eyes that pierced into me when she first looked at me; Peggy was known as the most aggressive of the group, but she was also really good at math.

And then there was Sherry Valance, known to her friends as Cherry, and Marcia James. Cherry had long red hair, hence the nickname, and tended to look at you like she was trying to figure you out. Marcia had dark, short hair and was almost as smiley as Nancy. Almost, but not quite.

"Boston?" Cynthia repeated, setting down her apple. "No way, you got the accent and everythin'?"

"I should do, I lived there my whole life," I answered.

"Oh, boy," Peggy spoke up. "You're gonna stand out around here, that's for sure." It took me a few days to warm up to Peggy, but I always thought about her saying this.

"Not too much, I hope," I said with a slightly nervous laugh.

Then I was victim to the first of many calculating looks Cherry would give me, and which I would soon get used to. After studying me for a few moments, she finally said, "I think you'll do just fine." Then she smiled, and just like that, I liked her.

These girls accepted me rather quickly despite my status as the New Girl, they even invited me to sit with them at lunch the following day. And that wasn't even the best part.

"Say, Roxanne," Marcia said after a few minutes of idle conversation, sounding as though she was about to say something really important. "There's this carnival tonight, and we're all goin'. Wanna come? It'll be fun."

I grinned so wide at this. Not only had I already been invited somewhere with these girls I'd just met, but it was to a carnival of all places. "Yeah," I answered, aiming my grin in her direction. "I'd like that."


I have a slight plan for this story and I'm pretty excited for it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!