Revisited and revised.
Special thanks to mars on firefor the prologue idea. The disclaimer is implied because I own nothing but Alice and any other original characters.
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"Hey Ponyboy, would you mind running down to the store? We're out of ... uh," Darry paused as he ruffled through the items in the cupboards, "bread and baking soda."
"Sure," Ponyboy answered distractedly from the couch where he was enthralled by a football game. He stayed right where he was for a few more minutes before Darry, not having heard the familiar slamming of the screen door usually made when anyone came or left, walked into the livingroom and looked at the couch. As he expected, Ponyboy was still there.
"Oi, Pony, I asked you to go to the store," Darry stated, getting a little irritated. He had been more patient with Ponyboy, lately, but the young teen was just getting to that age.
"What? Oh, right. Okay," and he got up. Ponyboy slipped on his jacket and shoes, all the while maneuvering himself so that the television was never once out of view. He closed the door softly behind him.
Once outside, Ponyboy shoved his hands in his pockets and set out for the store. It was getting chilly out, and there were rain clouds passing overhead. It was that time of year again. Things always got a bit better around his part of town during the cold months. As much as Socs enjoyed harassing greasers, it wasn't a priority. They'd much rather be huddling up to their fireplaces than chasing some no-count hood across town when it got below forty.
The store was just around the block, and when he came to it, he looked inside to see who was running the cash register. As luck would have it, that crotchety old man was there. He'd hated Ponyboy and the gang ever since that time he'd found himself staring down Dallas' loaded gun. Ponyboy guessed he couldn't blame him, though. He had dreaded going in there for anything, mostly because it only brought back those memories. Buying the bread and baking soda he scooted out of there pretty quickly.
The park was looking tempting in the hazy twilight glow of the late afternoon. Like the small convenience store, it too brought back memories of Johnny and himself sitting on the swings, or under a tree. Despite the stomach churning nostalgia, Ponyboy couldn't resist, and he decided he would only be there a little while anyway.
There was some rust on the swings, just as Ponyboy had remembered, and he set the small grocery bag on the ground next to him as he sat on one. It was hard to believe it had only been a little over a year; it felt like forever to him. His heels kicked up some dirt as he scooted forward and back, forward and back. Just then, Ponyboy heard some yelling from across the park. He tried to see where it was coming from, but the screams became quieter, more muffled. It was definitely a girl's voice. He ran as fast as he could. He did not want to find another greaser left for dead, not with the image of Johnny's beaten up body still fresh in his mind's eye.
He came around the fountain and through a few trees before seeing two Socs getting ready to hurt a young girl. She did not look much older than twelve or thirteen, and Ponyboy was appalled. She was just a kid.
He yelled to the Socs, "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
They turned to face him, and he instantly regretted yelling like that. They were not very big, but he did not know if he could fight them then and there. They were not scared of him at all.
"You want to fight, you pig-faced brat? Come onover here, man, come over!" the short brunette slurred, an open flask in his hand. They must have been drunk.
The other began to trudge over to him, but he was off balance so Ponyboy took the first swing. His fist hit him squarely in the jaw. The blond was rather wiry, and he fell flat on his backside. He was too drunk to gather himself and fell back on the grass, groaning and rubbing his face gingerly. Ponyboy was now trying to fend off the brunette, who was less drunk and a more coordinated fighter. The girl was by a tree now, red in the face and panting. Her features were racked with worry.
Ponyboy tried to knock ut the brunette with another of his right hooks to the face, but the guy ducked and jammed his fist deep into Ponyboy's stomach. He collapsed and gasped for air. Everything looked watery, and he realized tears were blinding him. He managed to see that the blond Soc was ready to slice him open with a six inch, and he closed his eyes, hoping for a savior but expecting the worst.
A small shriek sounded near his face, and he opened his eyes to see the girl sitting there, clutching her arm as it began to bleed. The blond one looked slightly surprised at what he had done. He probably was not used to ever really having to cut people. He had looked young when Ponyboy had spotted them at the beginning of the fight.
"You little bitch! You'd better watch yourselves," the brunette bellowed at them. He and the young blond jogged quickly back to their car and sped off.
The pain from the punch to the gut was still there, but it wasn't as intense. Ponyboy sat up and looked at the girl. She looked at him as well. They sat up, him slowly and her cautiously. When they managed to get out of the open and under the tree, he questioned her condition.
"Are you okay?" he asked her. Her hand and arm were now pretty bloody. It wasn't deep, but it was enough.
"I really don't think so," she said, "I'm getting a little dizzy. I ... I can't stand blood."
"Well, it's not deep, so it'll stop, and as soon as it does, you'll feel better," he tried. He really wasn't sure if that was the way things were gong to turn out though.
"Oh ... Can I ask your name?" she questioned, quite trusting of his word.
"It's Ponyboy," he replied simply.
Just then he heard another female voice. It was calling what he presumed was the name of the girl, and she perked up.
"Alice, is that you? It's Diane! Hurry, I ... I need some help," she replied shrilly. Ponyboy began to get up, but she grabbed his pant leg and asked if he was okay to do so. He just shrugged her off and ran away.
Ponyboy was not going to wait and find out who the unfamiliar voice belonged to. He had already involved himself in what really was not any of his business, even if he was sure the girl was grateful.
When Ponyboy felt he was far enough away, he slowed down to a walk. He came to his house before remembering the bread and baking soda. Swearing under his breath, Ponyboy ran through excuses in his mind. He was not about to go back and get the bag. His reasoning was that the kid could still have been there, but he was also in too much pain to go all that way.
"The place was closed. Yeah, that's it," he muttered, slamming the screen door and kicking off his shoes in a very Soda-like fashion.
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And there you have it, the first chapter.