Author's Note: Hello people! I have posted this here before, so if it seems familiar that's why. I decided to change the direction of this fic dramatically, meaning that I am going to have to repost it. There ARE differences! This will be very different then the first version I posted. A few changes will make an appearance in this chapter, but things will definitely be swerving in a different lane next chapter!

Anyways! I hope you enjoy this version! Please R and R! ;p

~Chapter One~

Home, Sweet, Home

I don't remember it being this hot here.

The air was ungenerously hot and humid, a heavy kind of air that weighed upon you, making it tiresome to breathe. Sweat trickled from my temple and slid passed my chin, stopping only to be absorbed by my blouse. The fabric was beautiful- a cream colored material accented by a thin sheet of lace. It was delicate and simple. It was my favorite blouse. The feminine piece of clothing fitted me perfectly and made me feel prettier than what I knew I was. But, right now, I wouldn't waste a single second hesitating to rip it off my body. The offending material was clinging to me in places too inappropriate in the stifling heat to be comfortable.

I glanced out the open window. My gaze darted back and forth then side to side in an effort to notice each house as we drove by. Large, clean houses with up-kept yards and brand new shudders -some even with white-picked fences- greeted me when the beat-up Grey Hound Bus dropped me off on the West side of town. These were the kind of houses that lay in perfect order along the sidewalk; the kind of houses that people like me can only dream of, only sneer and poke fun at. Well, not necessarily the houses, but more so the "wonderful" people that lived in them. The people, the Socials, are what society would deem the better half.

The houses began to change. The picturesque neighborhood faded away and was replaced by a more familiar one. The East side was very different from the West side. Here, there were no white-picked fences or brand new shutters. People made due and well with what they had, and what they had wasn't much. It was a different world from the one the Socials, or Socs, lived in. This was a world inhabited by another set of people, the Greasers. Both groups stayed on their own turf, and neither took too kindly when someone from another group wandered out of where they were suppose to be. God help them if they did. The Greasers were like hoods- robbing, destroying, fighting and the like. They traveled in separate gangs, but through it all, stuck together. Greasers were the perfect "bad boys" , with their tight blue jeans, t-shirts, and slicked back, grease covered hair. The Socs, well, they were the exact opposite, always clean and expensive. Socs were no hoods, but if they caught a Greaser on their turf they could be just as "nice" as one. Only worse. They might've looked clean, but they were just as dirty as the rest of us misfit youth…even if no one believed it.

I tried to remember what it was like to live in this neighborhood. It wasn't hard, but I wish it were. For so long I locked this place in the back of my mind, never letting it exist but in my nightmares. Since I was eight- since that night- sleep was a luxury not easily come by. Every night was the same nightmare, every night was the same thing. Very soon, night became one of the few things I personally hated. I never did understand hate. Never wanted to waste my time, to damage my spirit with the effort. But in this I felt hatred was justified. It wasn't easy to hate the night. What I wanted to hate was him…but I knew better. Grams taught me better. I couldn't disappoint her. Couldn't bear to be frowned upon by what she knew, Who she knew. My heart couldn't take it.

The worn-down, old car jerked with a start as the light turned green. I was brought out of my thoughts as the heat once again made itself viciously known. Once again I was uncomfortable. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and to keep myself preoccupied with anything but the idea of non-escape, I began to do what I usually do in these instances. I fiddled. My hands moved from the boiling hot dashboard, to my sides ,and back to the dashboard again. When I started to be my own annoyance, I settled for resting my hands on my skirt clad lap. Determined to be comfortable if only by force of will alone. My fingers twitched. I longed to move around, to run my fingers through my hair, twist, spin, whatever! But I remained reluctantly firm.

My restlessness didn't go unnoticed by my companion. Keith looked at me from the corner of his eye. He cracked a grin and I had to smile. My brother's smile was one thing I would never forget. It was a tooth-bearing grin, split from ear to ear, and it never left his face. He was truly a character, my brother. We didn't look much alike- he took after mom and I took after…not mom. His hair was a different color than mine. While his was a dark brownish-auburn, mine was a medium blonde color that had streaks of a lighter shade appearing sporadically throughout the entire curly mess. Thick sideburns ran down the corners of his face and was the only patch of hair on his head not coated with an unnecessary amount of grease. Just like a Greaser. Like his never ending smile, his humor remained in tact. Keith found amusement in everything, even when there shouldn't be anything funny at all. He never cared, never planned, never took things seriously. These were all his greatest and worst characteristics. He was notorious for fighting, shoplifting, and his black-handled switchblade, which he only acquired because of the before mentioned skill, if you would call shoplifting a skill. He had eyes as grey as his smile was wide. His eyes were grey, no question. My eyes were unmark able, a strange blend of my brother and mother's grey, and they were green. I try not to think about that particular generic trait or where it came from. It was a beautiful color green, practically emerald. The fact the color was so stunning was unavoidable. It only disgusted me.

"You're bein awful quiet over there, Dani."

He smiled that ear splitting smile again, but this time I could see the sarcasm laid behind his strait teeth. I let my own grin slip across my face and decided to tease him.

"And why would I wanna talk to you?"

" 'Cause a couple of weeks every summer isn't enough time for me to hear the sweet, angelic voice of my darlin' sister." He gushed, smile still in place.

I laughed. He was right. A couple of weeks in a year for the past eight years wasn't enough. When mom sent me to Kansas to live with Grams she was doing it for my own good, I know that. Still, when you're eight and you don't understand why things are the way they are, and all you want is your older brother, things don't make as much sense as they should. Thankfully, mom came down to visit every summer, bringing my older brother with her. But, I don't want to think about that.

"You're so full of it, Keith!"

I giggled at his expression. The look on his face was borderline confusion, almost like he forgot his real name. "Don't call me that, Danielle." He growled good-naturedly, emphasizing my name as if to prove his point. Barely anybody called me Danielle unless it was a stranger or they were being serious. I have always been Dani, and on one occasion DanDan. The latter is never to be mentioned by anyone ever! The last time I was called DanDan was in 5th grade by my cousin Gregg from North Dakota. He ended up with his head in the sandbox and a bloody nose. Grams laughed about that one for years.

"Whatever! What is it people call you?" I was teasing him and he knew it. "Oh, yea…Two-Bit!"

"Ha ha, Dani." Was his sarcastic reply.

Two-Bit. That's what he goes by. Always has. He's a wisecraker and couldn't stop telling jokes to save his life. He'd argue 'til his head explodes and he couldn't help but put his two-cents into everything. Hence the name Two-bit. Only I, his annoying baby sister, is allowed to call him Keith.

Laughter filled the car as we continued down an achingly familiar street. It was nice to laugh with him again. I missed goofin' whenever we were apart from each other. Earlier that day as I took that last step off the bus, I saw him standing with his head bowed by an old car. He had his hands in his pockets and I feared that things were going to be awkward between us, which was the very thing I dreaded. I didn't by any means want to feel unwelcome by my own brother, one of my favorite people in the world. True, we are as close as a brother and a sister can be, but we still have much issues with each other. I think its good for him to argue with someone that wont judge him, though. I may not agree with the things he does or what the Greasers do and certainly what the Socs do, but he's my family, and the Greasers are his family. That's good enough for me. Hopefully, me bein' Two-Bits little sister will be enough for them to respect me a little? I dunno.

Yea, my brother was a hood. He drank to much, stole everything in sight, and never shut up. He liked fights, blondes, and for some reason school. He was eighteen and a half and still a junior in high school. He was almost two years my elder and in my grade, probably my class. I don't care. I love him, no matter how many years we were separated between visits. I hate new things. New experiences make me antsy. I crave similarity and cling to all things familiar. Two-Bit being near me offers just that. He's my stability on this physical earth, and for a reason I cant explain I realize that as much as I may need him that he needs to be needed.

"So," I started, "Who's car is this, anyway? Yours?"

He shook his head. "Nah, it aint mine."

"Oh?"

"It's Steve's. He's at work with Soda. He let me use it to pick you up. "

"That was nice of him." I answered, being polite.

He nodded. "Yea, I guess." There was a pause before he said, "We're gonna head out to the Curtis' after we unload your stuff. You can unpack later. There's plenty of time for that!"

"Uh, sure?" I was uncertain about this whole thing. I mean, I know the Curtis' from way back when we were all kids, but that was then. Now, I'm just a little uneasy. Things have changed so much and so have I. Considering things were the way they were, it was difficult to make best out of the situation.

From the corner of my eye I saw Two-Bit grin. I turned to him, lifting up an eyebrow as if to ask "what?". He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly but his grin only grew. "Don't worry, sis! I'm sure you'll be fine. I mean its just us Greasers." He started laughing a little. "Besides ya might even like it."

"Huh." I bit my lip and tilted my head. He was about to egg me on, I knew it. "And why is that?"

"Oh, I dunno." Came his indifferent response. "Just that girls seem to like bein around the Curtis Brothers a lot. Especially with Sodapop there. He's irresistible to the ladies."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure."

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Uh-huh. I bet you wouldn't last two minutes around Darry or Soda without blushin' one good time."

"I don't make bets, Keith," He glared. "Two-Bit," I amended. "Especially stupid bets."

"Sure."

"No, seriously." He only laughed in response. A deep laugh that said he didn't believe me and he was wanting to make me mad. It was working. I was aggravated.

By the time the car rolled to a screeching halt I had calmed down. I closed my eyes and noticed that my breathing was surprisingly steady. I turned my head and when I opened my eyes I was facing the place where everything started. The place I vowed never to return to again. My hand shook as I laid it on the inside of the door. I felt torn leather against my fingertips before my hand finally grasped the handle. Summoning all my strength, I stumbled out of Steve's car. My knees were wobbling, but before they could buckle I heard my brother's voice telling me to hurry up. Once I was sure my feet was on the ground greater than I had a hold on reality, I nodded.

"Home, Sweet, Home." I whispered sullenly before looking towards the sky.

God, what am I doing here?

Again, this WILL BE VERY DIFFERENT then the first version!

Please R and R! Tell me what you think :D