A/N: Okay! Hey, everyone! This is my first multi-chaptered story since Congratulations. I'm thinking that this is only going to be three or four chapters. Unless I get some sudden inspiration. *Wink, wink, nudge, nudge*
Enjoy, everyone! And please give me your honest opinions. It's how I get better.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders. My favorite fake-people belong to S.E. Hinton.

Out of the Blue - Chapter One

When I first wrote it, I sometimes really sort of regretted writing that theme.

I had written the theme a month ago, so I could get my grade up. I was mixed up after Johnny and Dally's death, and my grades were dropping madly. I tried as hard as I could to concentrate in school but all efforts were futile.

Mr. Syme compromised that he'd give me at least a C in English on the report card if I wrote a good enough theme. Well, I reckon he must have forgotten about that, since he ended up giving me an A+ in his class. He wanted me to enter my story in to a writing contest, but at the time, I had refused. The events were too fresh in my mind.

Two days after I turned the final copy in, Mr. Syme had told me he stayed up all night to read it. That I was great at writing and I should consider getting it published. I had never thought of myself as a writer (more as an artist) but that sort of triggered something in me to start writing short stories.

I was reluctant to get it published, though, because the events that were written were true and personal and I didn't know if I wanted the world to read about it. Not to mention, was it even good enough to get published? I didn't speak too good of English, had bad grammar, so would that be a problem?

Mr. Syme also had told me that he had plans to schedule a teacher's meeting to talk about the theme. He asked my permission first to make sure it was okay for him to let the staff read it before he made the meeting. I thought that was real nice of him. That's another reason why I liked him so much. He was a guy you could really trust. He wouldn't have let them read it if I didn't want them to.

I had given him permission to, since, why the heck not? Most of them probably knew the story anyway, or the basic idea of it, and I didn't want my teachers to continually be thinking I was some kind of murderer who killed Bob Sheldon.

After their faculty meeting, countless amounts of young, female teachers (who most I'd never had in a class before) came up to me in swarms in the hallways between classes, fawning over everything that happened to me in Windrixville and muttering things like, "I cried," and "You've got talent, Ponyboy," and "You brave boy," and even a, "So that's why your hair's blond now!"

Teachers must have thrown all caution to the wind because when I got my report card back I had mostly B's, except a C+ in Math. I thought it was good enough, and Darry wasn't complaining or anything, so I figured I had gotten off the hook.

The principal got involved in the teacher's meeting and - get this - wanted me to come to his office to talk about things. Maybe even get Darry to come up and talk, too. I really didn't want him to. First of all, we couldn't afford to lose the money that we would if Darry left work, and second of all, I had written some pretty harsh things about Darry, and even though we were civil to each other now, I didn't want to bring any of those memories back, especially since Darry hadn't even read my theme. It would have been okay if Sodapop came up, but not Darry. Definitely not Darry.

Finally, Mr. Morgan believed me when I told him things were going good with me and Darry, and I convinced him that it was unnecessary for Darry to come up to school. It really was unnecessary. Me and Darry were good now.

As I had turned to walk out of his office he said, "Ponyboy, you should really consider sending this to a publisher."

I swallowed thickly and nodded, running a hand through my faded blond hair. "I'll think about it."

"Ponyboy," Mr. Syme said to me before class. "I want you to stay here after class. I already talked to your Biology teacher and got you out of her class."

I inwardly cringed. What did I do now?

Throughout class my mind was reeling. I couldn't even focus on the novel we were discussing that day - The Tempest, a classic - because I was so nervous. When someone wants to talk to you that's never a good sign. Because it was either about my theme, or I was in trouble. And neither one of those sounded very appealing.

Class zoomed by. It seems that whenever you're dreading something time just flies on by but when you want something to happen days are equivalent to years.

I briefly considered making a break for it, but I decided that wouldn't do. It was inevitable; I would have to see Mr. Syme no matter how much I tried to avoid it.

Class was ending. As I was walking, my sight when tunnel-vision on me and the walk to his desk seemed to be a mile-long all of a sudden.

"Ponyboy, I want to talk to you," Mr. Syme said formally.

My breath hitched in my chest. "Okay."

"Have you ever considered sending your theme off to get it published?"

"I don't know," I said, staring down at the hole in my shoe. "I guess that would be cool," I murmured the second part. I doubted he even heard me. "I don't even know how to do that."

"Because an acquaintance of mine happens to have a cousin who is an author, and could possibly be your agent," He grinned, like this was the best thing in the world.

I was just confused. "Agent? What's that?"

"It's someone who could… well, represent you, and send your story off to a publishing company," he replied. He fixed a stack of papers on his desk carefully. "I tell ya, Ponyboy, I think you could make some money with this."

"You really think that?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck. "Who would wanna read about a greaser?"

Mr. Syme just shook his head and smiled, exasperated. "I'm sure a lot of people would love it. I swear, Ponyboy, I have a feeling this could be a classic. Like, like, Pretty Woman o-or Gone With the Wind!"

I was appalled. I grinned. I didn't think it was any good, because I didn't really put much effort in to it - just wrote what I felt. It was mostly to vent my feelings out and to get my grade in English higher. Which, it did both.

"I just need your consent. Would you let me send it to my friend?"

I sat in thought for a second. It would be really cool to get my story out there. To be a published author at 14 years old.

But on the other hand, Socs were still a problem here at school, so would I really want them to be able to read that?

I thought about the money I would be able to get if I manage to sell my book.

I finally nodded. "Yes," I said, smiling. I nodded again. "But what should it be called?" When I had first turned it in to Mr. Syme it was called "My Theme by Ponyboy Curtis."

Mr. Syme rubbed his jaw in thought. "Outsiders…" he mumbled. So quiet I had to lean in to hear.

"What was that?"

"The Outsiders," said Mr. Syme.

Supernova. I read that word in my Science book once, and that seemed to be the only word to describe what just happened. "That's… that's perfect."

"Now. I have to warn you, not every book gets published, and I don't want you to get your hopes up too high. That's just a warning."

"I know," I said, smiling.

"Okay. I'm going to hand it back to you tomorrow, and you can use my typewriter to re-type it out. Well, I will talk to you more about it later. You can go to your class now."

I was starting to get excited about the whole idea of getting "The Outsiders" published.

I didn't tell my brothers or anyone in the gang. I wanted to keep it to myself, ya know? I was afraid I wasn't going to get published, and I didn't want them to get excited about it and then have nothing happen. Or for me to get rejected.

Mr. Syme even let me borrow his typewriter, because he wanted me to type out a "manuscript" as he called it, and I just thought that it was tuff that we were using such Literature-like slang. It seemed to be more legitimate.

I left the typewriter at school. I was always on it between classes, and even on my lunch breaks. Sometimes even during classes.

I would even bring it outside sometimes to type, and people would always come up to me and ask me what I was doing, typing so much on that typewriter.

I'd always say, "Just workin' on an English paper."

One time, a pretty Soc girl sat down next to me. She popped and chewed her gum noisily, just watching me.

Awkwardly, I said, "Uh.. Can I help you?"

"What are you working on, Ponyboy?" she said as she brushed her dark hair out of her eyes.

"A paper for English," I said somewhat defensively. I was wondering why she cared at all.

"Golly, Ponyboy, I was just wondering," She popped her gum again loudly, and it was grating against my nerves like sandpaper. "Why you typin' it? You can just write it out, ya know."

"I know," I replied, wishing she would just leave.

She took the hint and left. I was able to work alone and in peace.

I managed to turn in the "manuscript" of The Outsiders in record time.

"Here, Mr. Syme," I said, grinning ear to ear. It seemed to be a thousand pages long. I read through it probably eight-hundred times to make sure there were no mistakes.

It was weird typing on a type writer. It took me a long time to get used to where all the keys were, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone use so much white-out in one sitting.

But it was done, and I didn't think Mr. Syme would care very much about white-out.

About 5 months later, I got a letter from my literary agent, Mrs. Nancy Almost.

"Ponyboy," Darry yelled from the living room one night. "You got a letter!"

I ran in there instantly. Secretly, I had been perusing the mail we got everyday desperately, looking for any sign of contact from my agent or from a publishing company.

I had since told Soda that I was considering sending it off to get published, but I hadn't told him that I actually did.

He thought it was a great idea and that I should do what I want.

I didn't tell Darry, because he would shoot down my dreams faster than I could say "publisher". He wouldn't think it was good enough to get published.

I took the envelope in my room.

There were two letters, one typed and one hand-written. Nervous, I carefully grabbed the handwritten one first.

Ponyboy,

I have sent off the manuscript to the editor at Radcliffe Publishing.

Enclosed is the book contract offer for "The Outsiders".

You will have to look over it with your parent/guardian and send it back to me immediately.

Congratulations,

Mrs. Nancy Almost

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed loudly from my room, jumping off my bed. I couldn't help myself. If I got a book contract offer, that meant that it was going to be published!

"What?" Darry cried and he and Sodapop both ran in at the same time. They both shared panicked expressions.

I wanted to cry out of happiness. I took a deep breath and smiled the world's biggest smile.

"I have something to tell you guys."

"What is it?" Darry breathed, grabbing on to the wall and looking nervous. Sodapop was smiling at the fact that I was smiling.

"I didn't want to tell you guys until I was a hundred percent sure."

"For the love of God, Ponyboy," said Soda, who was nearly bouncing off the walls in impatience. "What is it?"

"Well, you guys remember the theme I wrote for Mr. Syme's class, right?"

"Yes," Darry said. He was moving his hands rapidly, signaling me to go on with it.

"I sent it in to a publisher. They're... they're going to publish my book!"

"That's great! I always knew you would be successful in life!" Sodapop ejected loudly and excitedly, nearly jumped up in the air with glee for me but Darry stood stock-still. He almost didn't seem to believe me. "How did you do that? Send it off to a publisher?"

"Mr. Syme kept buggin' me about getting it published, and he knew someone in the publishing and writing business. She's my agent! I can't believe this is happening," I grinned more than I'd ever grinned before that night.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Darry said, now starting to grin. "And how do you know it's going to be published?"

"I got this letter from Radcliffe Publishing!" I exclaimed, starting to jump around with Soda.

Darry's eyes scanned the long, long contract. "I'm so proud of you, Ponyboy," he said. I felt my heart nearly swell in happiness. "This says that it will be officially published in about eighteen months."

"I don't care when it's published!" I said, swinging Sodapop around on the bed. "I'm going to be published at fourteen! Or, well, I'll be fifteen or sixteen…"

"I'm going to call Mrs. Almost," said Darry, now looking at the other letter I received. He looked like he wanted to knock our heads together at our antics. "I'll be right back."

I was so happy I could have died.

I owed Mr. Syme a huge thank you.

I wasn't reluctant to get it published anymore. I wanted people to read the story of what happened to Johnny and Dally and to see what it's like to be on the poor side of the tracks. I wanted people to see what I saw - a broken boy with dark hair who was always quiet and filled with secrets. Another with white blond hair that had seemingly nothing to lose.

"Can I read your theme?" Sodapop asked as soon as we started to settle down. "Gosh almighty, it's gotta be a long theme if it's long enough to be a book."

"I know. It was a lot longer than Mr. Syme expected. You're in it, you know," We flopped on to the bed. I looked over to him. "And I'm not going to let you read it until it's out."

Soda hummed sleepily. "Mmm, man, that's like in more than a year from now. Am I made out to be a hero?" I giggled at his response.

"Kind of," I said, remembering how I said he was "a Greek god come down from earth". "I just wrote about what happened at Windrixville."

"That's something I would pay to read," Soda said, semi-jokingly. "I'm proud of you, kid."

I was proud of myself too.

I didn't regret writing the theme anymore. Not at all.

*READ THIS*

So, I just totally made up the publishing company. Thought everyone should know.

Also, I got Ponyboy's experience of having an agentt by reading S.E. Hinton's experience. She had a friend whose mother was in the publishing business, who was S.E.'s literary agent.

I also looked up how long it usually takes for a book to be published and what the steps are to getting a book published.

Thanks!