Author's Note: This takes place before our story "God Help the Girls." It will not feature any of the other girls from there, as Evie didn't know Ella Mitchell ("Green Light"/"Wild Night" by This Is Melodrama), and neither Bridget Stevens ("Don't Think Twice"/"Sins of the Saints" by AndThatWasEnough) or Cathy Carlson ("The Visit" by lulusgarderfli) had moved to Tulsa yet. However, you'll be noticing some of the other characters featured in those stories here.

Disclaimer: We do not own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, although we sometimes wish that we did. The title of this story is based on the song "Single Girl" by Sandy Posey, which we do not own, either.

Happy belated Thanksgiving, y'all, and happy reading! :)

". . . so Dallas and I will be going out tonight," Sylvia was saying, brushing a piece of her hair out of her porcelain face. "I told him he better behave himself, or else he isn't getting any."

Evie rolled her eyes as Sandy giggled. "Sounds like you have it all figured out."

Sylvia merely laughed, a dry sound, as she reached for a fry. "Well, get yourself a man, Evie, and you can join in on these conversations." Her lips pursed. "When's the last time you even went on a date? What was it? Freshmen year?"

Sandy shot her a look, but Evie's arms crossed over her chest. "Who cares? Maybe I don't want to date anyone yet. Maybe I like—"

"Being single?" Sylvia clapped back, rolling her eyes. "Nobody likes being single, Evie." The ketchup coated fry slid into her mouth, and Evie felt her fingers curling into fists. But Sylvia was already going on again, mouth full of fry. "Hell, I didn't know how boring life was until I hooked Dallas and reeled him in." There was a bite in her tone. "He just clicks every button of mine, know what I'm sayin'?" Her eyes drifted toward Sandy for help. "Well, surely you do, Miss Priss. How's Sodapop?"

The blond girl flushed something awful, her voice meek as she answered. "He's fine." There was a nervous look etched about her face as she continued. "We're fine."

Evie eyed the two of them with a critical expression. Sylvia had been her friend for years, they had known each other since they were little kids. As they had gotten older, though, Sylvia seemed to go in her own direction, starting to date boys awfully young, and even experimenting, too. Sandy was more shy in that sense, much like Evie. But Evie would be lying if she said she didn't feel lonely being the single girl among her friends. Golly, but even Vickie Harper, their grade's most popular girl, had dated boys before. Evie felt incredibly singled out. Okay, so she had went on one or two dates before, but she hadn't . . . done anything. She felt so inexperienced in comparison to her other friends, and she had to wonder if it was because she was . . . different.

Hell, she didn't have Sylvia's sultry eyes or blunt personality, she didn't have Sandy's rosy cheeks and shy demeanor that boys found cute, and she sure as hell didn't have money or charm, like Vickie Harper and her cousin, Beatrice Preston. Evie wasn't sure what she had that anyone would find attractive, but she wanted . . . something. She wanted boys to look at her the way they looked at Sylvia. Okay, well, maybe not to that extremity. Evie didn't really like attention like that, but she just wanted . . . one specific person to look at her like that.

Steve Randle.

He was a year older than her, and she had liked him for the past few months. Only Sandy and her own kid sister, Beth, knew it, though. Evie was too nervous to tell Sylvia who her man crush was, afraid that the girl would get drunk and blab it to everyone and their brother, and golly, but that was the last thing she would need. Lord, she couldn't even imagine the expression that would adorn Steve's face if he found out that Evie Martin, a sophomore, a nobody, liked him. Oh, but that would just be too humiliating or even scandalous. So Evie had kept her mouth zipped shut around Sylvia, her thoughts and such locked up tightly.

Sylvia was picking at her straw. "Have y'all . . . done it?" she asked, suddenly looking insecure, her usually confident face turning down.

Sandy blushed fiercely, shaking her head. "No."

"Oh."

There was a small crinkle between Evie's brows as she watched the exchange. She knew that Sylvia and Dallas hadn't . . . gone all the way, but Sylvia enjoyed teasing him plenty enough. She figured Sandy was really too embarrassed to discuss her intimate life with anyone, even her best friends, so Evie didn't press her for information. Glory, but she almost wished for Kathy's company. Like Evie, she was more laid-back, but she and her family were out of state for the weekend visiting relatives or something, so Evie was on her own. Still, she thought about Sylvia and Dallas, wondering why Sylvia suddenly seemed so sour right then. Had she and Dallas . . . ? Well, it wasn't exactly a secret that Dallas Winston had been fooling around with girls since he was fourteen or something, and well, he was still a young seventeen now, but Sylvia was only sixteen. They were all in the same grade, sure, but there was a prodigious difference between Dallas and Sylvia when it came to playing around like that, and that was Dallas being way more experienced.

Evie had expressed her dislike when Sylvia came flouncing to her one night, going on about her and Tulsa's finest hoodlum being an item. Hell, they hardly knew one another, having met at some party or something, and the next thing, Winston was asking her out and they were dating game pro. They had been together for only three months at this particular moment, and Evie wouldn't deny that she would be shocked if Sylvia let him into her pants. Good lord.

But Sandy was already asking her silent question. "What about you and Dally?"

Sylvia licked her lips, nose wrinkling. "Yeah, it . . . it happened the other night at . . . Dennis Wilde's party," she answered, a drone to her voice. "We were both kinda drunk, and well, things got pretty heated on the ride home."

Sandy was looking at Evie, who was wearing an expression of shock. Oh, hell, well, she supposed it was time they break out the wine bottle or something. Only problem was, they weren't at Evie's house, where she kept a spare bottle under her bed for these purposes. Okay, she wasn't a drunk or anything, but her and the girls would sneak drinks over during sleepovers and share a bottle or two while gossiping endlessly about all kinds of things—stuff like this being one of them.

"It was different than what I imagined," Sylvia continued on, eyes intent on her soda. "I mean, it was good an' all, compared to what we've done before, but I don't know," she rambled. "I feel different now, if you get me."

Evie shrugged, turning her head to stare out the window.

She didn't get her, not at all.

XXXXX

"Evie," Beth whined, covering her head with her pillow. "Can you turn off the light? I want to go to sleep." She huffed dramatically. "C'mon, we're having a stupid test tomorrow."

The older girl rolled her eyes. "Please, Beth, like you of all people give a hoot about some test."

Beth made a sound like a groan, clearly annoyed. "It doesn't matter, I still want to go to sleep, Evelyn, I'm tired for Pete's sake."

"Oh, good lord," Evie cried, exasperated. She tossed her hands up in the air. Golly, but sometimes she hated having to share a room with her younger sister. Scratch that. Evie had always despised it. At least Beth wasn't too terrible, though, especially when it came to their living arrangements. Both girls had agreed to respect each other and their belongings, even agreeing to leave the room when either of their friends were present. It worked. That didn't mean that Evie (either girl) liked it, but it worked, and that was that. But Beth had always been somewhat of a whiner. Evie shot her a glare. "I'm looking for something, so just . . . close your eyes."

The younger girl moved the pillow away from her face. "What are you looking for at eleven o'clock on a Sunday night?"

"Someone, Beth, someone's picture," she answered, flipping a page in last year's yearbook. A grin spread across her lips as she found his picture. Golly, but he was awfully cute. But it didn't matter, because Evie's fantasies only existed in her head. It had taken her forever to dig her yearbook out just to find Steve Randle's picture, but she was glad she had. Oh, he was such a . . . man. "You can quit your whinin' now," she said to Beth. "I found it."

"Who? Steve?" Beth dragged his name out for emphasis, hopping out of her bed and making her way to Evie's. "Let me see." A giggle erupted from her mouth as she looked at his cocky smile and swirly hair that seemed to fit him. "He looks so rugged here."

Evie slapped her hand away. "He looks perfect. He looks like a man, Beth."

That was all it took for Beth to bust out laughing, her eyes tearing up at her older sister's words. "A man, Evie?" she repeated, bending over and clutching her stomach. "Oh, Steve, he's such a perfect man," she mimicked, reaching for Evie's pillow and holding it to her. "Oh, Steve, hold me and kiss me," she teased, hugging the cotton covered feathers to her body.

But Evie wasn't laughing. Instead, her face had twisted down into a scowl, annoyed at how her kid sister always seemed to mock her. Lord, but Beth was super annoying, and glory, but Evie couldn't believe that she had ever imagined Beth would be her maid of honor or one of her bride's maids at her wedding . . . whenever that was. With Steve. She'd be Mrs. Steven Randle. Evelyn Randle. Yeah, that had a beautiful ring to it. But still—

"Okay," she bit out, pushing Beth away. "Enough."

Beth was still laughing as she plopped back onto her own bed. "Oh, lighten up, Evie. If you like him so much, why don't you go and introduce yourself?"

And Evie's shoulders slumped. She had thought about doing so, even though Steve already knew who she was, but that was only through Soda Curtis and Sandy. Other than that, he didn't have a clue about her existence. Soda and Sandy hadn't been together very long, and Evie didn't want to intrude on their relationship by using Sandy as a means to get to Steve—that would be . . . weird. So she could only bring herself to imagine Steve Randle as her boyfriend. What else could she do? She wondered what he would be like, how he would treat her, and she felt a pang of nervousness. She had dated once or twice, but she'd never been in a real relationship, not like Sylvia, or Sandy, or Kathy. She remembered one incident a long time ago in particular when Ted Jones had grabbed her chest after offering her half of his sandwich when she'd forgotten her lunch at home. The memory made her shudder lightly, and it bothered her that there was such a thing as labels.

Even without a boyfriend, girls on their side of town were labeled, and Evie had never bothered to tell anyone about the incident, afraid that it would smear her name like the peanut-butter on that sandwich nearly three years ago. But Sylvia danced around gossip and rumors so casually, as if none of them had bothered her at all. Being Dallas Winston's girl hadn't done much for her, only save her the nerve of people coming up and saying it to her face.

Labels were stupid and so were people.

"We'll see," she mumbled to Beth, reaching over to flick the light off. "I doubt he'd even like me."

"What's not to like?" Beth asked, cocking an eyebrow in the darkness. "You're my sister, so that means you're pretty cool."

Evie's head pressed against her pillow, the sheets running coolly through her toes. "Sure, Beth." She pursed her lips, wondering how people viewed her sister. The thought made her inwardly cringe, for Beth was still a kid, not a whole lot younger than her, but young enough. She considered Angela Shepard for a second—now that was a young girl who already had a reputation brewing for one so young. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. "Go to sleep," she mumbled, and tossed herself onto her side.

The younger girl sat up, though. "I'm serious, Eve! I mean, you're a pretty cool person. You have a lot of spunk and . . . stuff." A sigh. "Okay. What girl your age can style hair and paint nails like you can? Seriously?" Her voice raised an octave. "Oh! And who can do makeup like a pro in this town?"

"Yeah, but—"

But Beth eagerly continued on. "No buts," she said. "Evie, you're a cool person, honestly. I wish you could see that. And besides, if Steven Randle can't see that, then he's more of a dumby than anyone is givin' him credit for."

Evie chuckled. "He's actually smart, I hear."

Her sister shook her head, flopping back down. "And there's another thing . . . you see the good in everyone, whether they deserve it or not."

The older teen was silent, her eyes closing as Beth's words settled on her mind. Maybe she was right, maybe Evie did have some decent qualities about herself. But oh, what a cruel, cruel world it was, just waiting to crush girls like them.

XXXXX

Evie sometimes dreaded her lunch period, and not because she didn't have anyone to sit with—that most certainly wasn't the problem—but because she hated the fact that she was singled out. Alright, so maybe she wasn't the only one who was singled out, but still . . . she was the only girl who was singled out. At least Steve Randle had Johnny Cade to keep him company. Sodapop Curtis was sitting with his arm wrapped around Sandy's waist, his thumb rubbing over her hipbone leisurely, and then Sylvia was practically sitting on Dallas's lap while he kept trying to nip her neck, calling her all kinds of names like baby, doll, and sweetheart, and then there was Two-Bit and Kathy, who were lost in their own little world talking about stuff only they could understand.

Johnny Cade was standing next to Steve, but he was quieter than a mouse; at least Steve was making small talk with Soda and Dallas. Evie felt silly sitting there on the trunk of Two-Bit's rust bucket, a small dent in her forehead from the scowl on her lips. Oh, she told herself that she wasn't jealous, and actually, she wasn't. She didn't care that every girl beside her seemed to have a boyfriend, or seemed to get attention wherever they went—it wasn't that. She just felt singled out. Then again, she supposed it wasn't all that bad, considering the circumstances, but being that close to Steve and him hardly seeming to notice her was making her stomach turn.

She could hear him speaking lowly, his voice quiet and bitter sounding. Evie found that she liked it, though. Glory, but she liked his dark hair and dark eyes that just drew her in. It was silly, she thought to herself, but all the girls seemed to flock around Soda at the DX on the weekends, and yet, she only ever had eyes for Steve. There was just . . . something about him that she dug, that made her want to be with him, something that made him stand out from the rest.

"Evie," Sylvia called, sounding impatient. "You wanna come with us tonight?"

The brunette's eyes widened. "Where?"

Sylvia just about rolled her eyes, and Evie grimaced as Dallas's hand creeped up her thigh. "We're goin' to the Nightly Double."

"Oh," Evie said, shaking her head. And even though she felt a little miserable, she concealed her feelings quite well. "Nah, that's okay. I've got work."

"Figures," came the cool response, and Evie ground her teeth.

What she didn't expect was to see Sandy giving her a desperate look, her eyes drifting toward Steve and then widening at her as if to tell her to come along, he would be there. But Evie couldn't just call out of work to go to the movies. She only worked part-time at the hospital in the gift shop, but she needed the income—she was putting her money away, saving up, and all that. Hell, she even helped with the bills or shopping sometimes, tossing a few dollars out of her weekly pay toward milk and bread. It wasn't much, but it was the most she could do.

It wasn't as if her folks were rich or anything.

Nobody on their side of town was.

Besides, what would come out of her going as a fourth or fifth wheel? It wasn't as if Steve would really notice her anyway. She shook her head at Sandy, watching as the blond's shoulders seemed to deflate as she dropped her head. But then Sandy whispered something to Soda, and he grinned, nodding once to her as she giggled back in return. Evie wasn't sure why, but she felt her cheeks growing hot, a weird sensation creeping up her spine at the thought of it.

XXXXX

Later that night, Evie worked through her shift at the gift shop, arranging items on shelves, and sorting out flowers that needed to be delivered to patients' rooms. She actually enjoyed her job, but her main dream was to open her own salon, or take over her mother's one day. Becoming a beautician was her biggest goal in life, the one thing she was determined to do. She already had her mother's knowledge on the art of hair styling, and she could do nails and makeup like a pro—Beth wasn't exaggerating. Maybe one day she would make that happen.

The sound of shoes shuffling across the floor captured her attention, and the girl stood up, wiping her hands off on her work uniform as she did. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw Steve Randle standing in front of her at the counter, a nervous look plastered on his face. Evie wanted to pinch herself, because this had to be a dream. There was no way in hell that Steve Randle, her crush, was there, no way he was . . .

"Hi," she said stupidly. "Can I help you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, actually." He placed his hands on the counter softly. "I was wondering if I could talk to a . . . Evie Martin."

Evie's face was coloring by the second. "Sure," she answered, and then the question on her mind seemed to tumble out of her mouth before she could stop it. "I thought everyone was going to the Nightly Double tonight."

"They went," he replied casually. "But I wasn't interested."

The girl's brows knitted. "Oh, how come?"

"Didn't have a date," Steve responded with, and leaned forward to rest his weight on his left arm, a smile curving his lips upward. "See, there's this one girl I was hoping would go, but it turns out that she had to work, so my buddy and his girl told me where I could find her after her shift, and well, I came all this way to ask her if she'd want to grab a bite to eat with me tonight before she has to go home."

Evie's face was almost red by that point. So that's what Sandy was trying to tell her. Oh, glory, but she sure was stupid. But she still couldn't believe it. Was Steve Randle, her crush, actually asking her out on a date? Did he like her, too? Was this real? For a moment, she allowed herself to think that this was all just some cruel joke conjured up by the universe just to make her more miserable, but looking across the counter at Steve, she knew he was real, that he really was there, and holy Jesus, but he was there to ask her out on a date—he had asked her to get food with him.

But how had—

She paused, knowing that Soda and Sandy had been trying to set them up earlier. Sylvia must have been in on it, too, (maybe) but she was better at playing like she didn't know anything with that kind of stuff. Still, looking at Steve then made her feel incredibly overwhelmed with excitement. Perhaps, things were starting to look up for her after all. Perhaps, things were going to be alright, and even in her bewildered and stunned state of mind, Evie felt contentment.

Shaking the shocked look from her face, she eagerly nodded. "I think she'd like to very much."

Steve grinned at her, and Evie grinned back, her heart fluttering in her chest.

Thank you for reading, and for all of your continuous support! :3

—Cat, Abby, and Lulu.