Note: Before reading this story, you may want to check out my oneshot "Back to Your Roots". It's not necessary to understand this story, but it sets the scene and introduces the OFC.

Brand New Colony

Everything will change.

Darry Curtis gets off work at half-past six on Christmas Eve, and he doesn't get home until after seven o'clock. Sodapop darts out the door almost as soon as Darry gets there, saying something about how he has to go somewhere with Steve and Two-Bit, and he'll be right back. Ponyboy is in his usual spot on the couch, alternating between watching TV, reading, and smoking. He's been there pretty much all day every day since school let out for the break. Darry had hoped that getting his hair fixed would perk him up a little, and it did for a while. He went to a movie the day after Betty came over and fixed his hair, but he hasn't left the house since then. But it's not that Darry and Sodapop don't try to get their little brother to go out. They constantly offer to drive him places or suggest things for him to do, but Ponyboy always turns them down. He is perfectly content to sit on the couch all day. Darry worries about him, but he also can't blame him. Hell, if he had nothing to do but sit around all day, he'd take advantage of it. Especially after the week he'd had. Three families were instant that they have floors installed and walls painted before Christmas. One house isn't a small job, and three is almost impossible. And although Darry hates that he had to work so much overtime and spend so much time away from his brothers, he's glad for the extra money. For a while, it looked like they wouldn't be able to pay all their bills for the month.

The front door slams, Pony and Soda exchange a "hey", and then Soda starts stomping toward Darry's room. He goes in without knocking.

"What 'cha got?" Soda asks, gesturing to the piece of paper in Darry's hand.

"Is it a dirty picture?" Soda asks when Darry doesn't respond. "I wanna see."

Darry tires to pull it away, but Soda grabs it first.

"Betty Harrison," he reads. "I know that name from somewhere."

"She's the girl who fixed Pony's hair," Darry replies. "We went to high school together and went on a couple dates senior year. She was a cheerleader."

Sodapop thinks for a second, and then a look of clarity flashes across his face.

"The one with the big tits?" he asks.

Darry rolls his eyes and sighs, but he's been thinking about that very part of Betty every night since he last saw her.

"Yes, Soda. Her," he replies.

"Well, give her a call," Soda says. "Tell her to come over and wear something with a low neck."

Darry throws a punch at Soda, but he's already up off the bed and on his way out of the room, laughing at his brother's failure to land a punch.

XXX

Back when their parents were alive, Christmas Eve was a big deal. They'd go to church, drive around the rich neighborhoods looking at Christmas lights, and then come home and have a big dinner that their mother prepared. They learned early that there wasn't a Santa, but when they were still young enough to believe in him, they'd leave cookies and milk by the fireplace before going to bed early. Once they were older, they'd stay up late listening to Christmas records and playing cards. It was something that all three boys remembered fondly.

But now that their parents are gone, Christmas is less eventful. This year, they didn't even get each other presents. They skip church and the Christmas light drive, and they have sandwiches and the remnants of a chocolate cake for dinner. Steve comes in around ten o'clock with a black eye starting to form and a still-bleeding nose. He mutters a "merry fucking Christmas" before lying down on the couch and almost immediately passing out.

Ponyboy is in bed by eleven, and Sodapop is watching the end of a movie that Darry has never seen before on the TV. Darry thinks for a minute about starting a card game with Sodapop for old times' sake, but he decides against it. Soda never liked cards much anyway, and catching up on sleep sounds more appealing than trying to get him through a game of bridge.

Darry gets up out of the armchair, his knees and back crackling. Sodapop looks up at him from his seat on the floor.

"You OK?" he asks. "Want some Aspirin?"

Darry shakes his head. "I'm fine. Get to bed soon or Santa won't come."

Soda cracks a grin and nods. "Soon as this is over."

"Ok," Darry says. "'Night."

"'Night," Soda replies.

In his bed, in the dark and under the covers, Darry once again falls asleep with his hand down the front of his boxers, thinking of Betty.

XXX

He wakes up to light streaming in through the holes in the window shade. He groans and sleepily rolls over to check the time. Surely it can't be that late. He could use a few more hours of sleep.

Darry jumps and curses under his breath when he realizes it's already two-thirty in the afternoon. He needs to get up, spend time with his brothers, and catch up on the housework that he put off while he was so busy with work. He only has the rest of Christmas and the day after until he has to go back to work. But his eyelids are already starting to droop, and all he wants is to sleep.

Five more minutes, he thinks. Then I'll get up.

When he wakes up again, the clock reads six-thirty. He swears, forces himself out of bed, and stumbles into the living room. Ponyboy looks up from the book he was reading and cocks an eyebrow.

"You're up," he says. "Soda and I were startin' to think you'd sleep through the whole day."

"Sure was thinkin' about it," Darry says. He rubs his eyes with his palms, trying to wake up.

"Steve go home?" Darry asked. "Where's Sodapop?"

"They just left. Soda was taking him home."

Darry nods and sleepily shuffles into the kitchen. It's taking all of his willpower not to make a pot of coffee. And the sight of the dishes piled in the sink, the muddy shoe prints on the floor, and the overflowing trashcan just makes him more exhausted. He sighs and shuffles back into the living room.

"You and Sodapop clean up the kitchen when he gets home," Darry says.

Ponyboy doesn't reply, and Darry knows that he was probably too engrossed in his book to hear him. He'll tell him again once Soda gets home. Right now, he has to do something for himself.

A voice that sounds vaguely familiar picks up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Betty?"

"Speaking. Who's calling?"

He can feel a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but there are also butterflies in his stomach.

"It's Darry. Darry Curtis. How you doin'? Have a good Christmas?"

"I'm good. Had better Christmases though. I was wondering if you'd ever call."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Just got swamped with work. But listen, you free tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Who wants to know?" He can hear in her voice that she's teasing him.

"Was wondering if I could take you out for drinks. Catch up some more. Hear about this not-so-great Christmas you had."

"I'd like that," she says. And although he knew she'd say yes, Darry unconsciously breathes a sigh of relief.

"Third Street at around seven sound good?" he asks.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you then," she replies.

"See you," he replies and hangs up the phone without saying goodbye.

XXX

Sodapop is back, and he looks quizzically at Darry.

"What's up with you?" Soda asks. "Ain't seen you smile like that since … I don't know when. You get laid or somethin'?"

Darry takes a sip of his beer and opens up the issue of Sports Illustrated that he bought on his way home from work on Christmas Eve.

"Darry?" Soda asks.

Darry just shakes his head. "You and Ponyboy go clean the kitchen."

S. E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Postal Service owns Brand New Colony.

Reviews are always appreciated!