I don't own The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton does. I do own Wade, Lisa, Dalia, and Ron.

"Hey, Dalia, we're going to The Dingo, you comin'?" my brother, Wade, called.

"Sure, I'll be right down," I got my blade out from my drawer and loped down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me, was Wade, Ron, and Lisa, a few of the members of my outfit and my best friends. Wade was my brother, the jokester of the group. He had a permanent smile on his face, and his light brown hair was heavily greased.

Ron had a darker, harder look. He had run away from his house at ten years old and he had a huge record with the police. His black hair was combed back with grease too; after all, we were greasers.

Lisa was tall, slim, and had movie-star good looks. If I had seen her on the street, I would've guessed she was a Soc, but I'd seen her fight, and let me tell you, nobody wanted to make her angry after that.

We walked out the door and Wade let out a whoop as he jumped off of our front porch.

"I hope there's a fight tonight, or at least some good booze," Wade said, a joking twinkle in his eye.

"I'd like to see you boozed up," Lisa said, chortling. It was a well known fact that Wade didn't drink, he didn't need to anyway, he was funny and annoying without consuming alcohol.

Wade shot her a smirk.

We continued walking to The Dingo, but I felt uncomfortable, like something big was going to happen.

When we arrived, we went around talking to other hoods and greasers about who was in jail, and who was with whom.

I still couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen, so I told Wade that I was going to get a drink.

I waited in the line until two guys came up behind me, clearly drunk, and started talking smack to me.

"Shut up or I'll shut you up myself," I said, pulling out my switchblade. I was glad I carried it, although Wade told me he didn't like me to carry it. The blade made me feel safer.

"Oh, I'm so scared," one of them said sarcastically. He pulled out a blade of his own.

The one who pulled out a blade had gotten my full attention now, so I didn't see the other one until his fist connected with my face.

I quickly retaliated with a punch of my own, but his friend pulled me down to the ground. He started whaling on me real good, so I pulled out my blade.

I held the blade right at his neck, so he stopped punching me. But, he didn't let me up from the ground.

I punched his again, and he let me up. I still had the blade against his neck and pushed him against a wall, I was going to talk to him a little, scare him so he wouldn't try anything on me again.

I felt something cold press onto my head. I slowly turned around, and the guy's friend was holding a gun to my head.

"You're way to much trouble," he said. It struck me that he could kill me. One little touch to the trigger and I would be dead.

I saw Wade pushing his way through the crowd that had formed and trying to get to me in time.

He got there a second too late. A shot rang through The Dingo.

It took me a second to figure out that I was the one shot. It didn't hurt really, I just felt numb.

Wade was beside me now, talking to me in a soothing tone.

"It'll be alright, you're gonna' be fine," he said over and over again. The playful glint in his eye was gone, making him look mean and scary.

"Wade, I love you. You're gonna' be fine. Promise me that you'll move on," tears started rolling down his cheeks. My vision blurred, but I couldn't let go without knowing he'd be okay.

"Promise me," I said again.

"I promise, I love you," he whispered. I was sure that he'd be fine, move on. It would be hard for him, but I knew he could do it.

With that, I let the blissful darkness pull me under, leaving Wade behind to cry for me.