Seven reviews. SEVEN REVIEWS! You all made my day- I feel much more encouraged to continue :D

DBG- patience!!
xxmuchlovinxx- I will be editing all grammatical errors soon. Thank you so much for the advice :D grammar is NOT my strong point
curly's gal- :D you have to read and find out about the gang
whatcoloristhesky- your name is pretty. it reminds me of the background on my celly :D Anyway, thanx for the review
mamakitty01- the name was too long? wel.. it fits though, right?
Pictures- Yes D: You're right I'm sorry. I'll be editing it soon!
OliverScye- I think the word you were looking for is "ample opportunity" You're also right about the slang. I'll be editing soon so I'll find a new word.

Chapter 2

"Lay back, Jack" grinned the tall, lanky guy as he took a frim grip on Dallas' elbow to stop his wriggling. The big guy just walked behind them, taking up the entire hallway with his bulk. "Its cool, brotha' we're cool." the tall one continued. He had a high-pitched voice and he sounded a bit like he was talking out his nose.

"M- my names not Jack" the youngest boy stammered, looking up into his hard eyes. Man, he was such a hood! Dally almost shuddered imagining what this jerk had seen to make him look so grim.

"I know! It's Dallas Winston- that's too tough a name for a little fella' like you!" he said, he had a lazy, goofy smile on his face that just wouldn't go away.

"I'm not a little fella'! Where're you draggin' me too?!" Dallas yelled and he tried to throw his weight one way, then the other and kick and yell. Al punched him hard in the back of the head and he felt his eyes water. He was so scared- he'd seen guys get dragged off before, Buck was once and then when he saw him later he was so bloody and crippled looking. It was terrible and Buck was eighteen! He was a grown up! Imagine what they'd do to him.

"Its okay, kid, relax" Al said as they reached a door at the end of the hall, "Oh, hey! You cryin'?"

"I am not cryin'!" Dally shouted back- oh, how he wanted to cry but he wasn't going to. He knew better than to cry in front of hard lookin' J.D's like this. He'd suck it all up and pray he got out of it alive.

"Chill out, man, we're bein' friendly!" Al said patting his shoulder, giving him a look and Dally wanted to trust him because he looked like Tim if Tim got older and harder, but he knew better than to trust a guy like him. He knew he shouldn't have opened the door.

"I'm Alexander" said the big guy suddenly, he had a low voice that made Dally cold but he was trying to be nice. He was trying real hard to be nice, anyone could see that because he was squinting and glarinf anymore.

"I'm Skinny Jim!" grinned the tall guy, "Mike's my uncle- he's a jerk but he gives all us Monks a place to chill at! You should be happy your mom's his girl- if you lived on the west side we'd have to beat you up for bein' a Brawler."

"Brawler?" Dally repeated. The way they'd spoken was like the hoods back in Tulsa, about gangs and about territory.

"The Manhattan Brawlers- they're in Manhattan." Skinny Jim explained

"I- I thought I was in New York" he said, blinking, absolutely confused at what it meant to be in Manhattan- his mother had used the word almost as much as she used 'New York' but she'd also said 'Bronx' and 'Queens' he thought it was all different words for the same place.

Skinny Jim nodded, "Ya're. Lemme break it down. There's five buroughs in New York, you live in Queens. After that each burough has a couple'a neighborhoods and each neighborhood has its own gang. All you gotta know is you live in Long Island City, the L.I.C, we're near the harbor and across the harbor is Manhattan. All gangs in Manhattan hate us- so just forget about ever seein' Central Park or Union Square unless ya' want mugged."

Dally sighed and nodded- just like back in Tulsa. Territories- except this was a lot easier than in Tulsa. So long as he didn't leave L.I.C he'd be okay- the fact that he didn't know the borders of the neighborhood hardly mattered- he didn't leave his apartment. Al asked him if he was okay- he said he looked pale and Dallas believe that because he felt pale, but he said he was just fine so Al pushed open the door.

It was crowded and smokey inside and the air was thick with cigarette smoke there were people everywhere. Wow, he exhaled thoughtfully, this was their gang's hangout. This was a real New York gangs pad! It was like in the movies and once he was in he could barely contain his excitement. A girl sauntered up, she had tight, blonde curls and big red lips, and brigh green eyes under too much mascarra. She smiled and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees and looked at Dallas- he blinked in confusion- wondering why her shirt was so low and her skirt was so short.

"Hiya, honey" she smiled at him, "I'm Martha." she reached her hand out and he slowly took it. She looked trashier than the Greasy older girls down in Tulsa. He made a mental-note, since he wasn't going to die, to write that also in his letter to Tim.

"Martha stop lookin' like a slut!" Al barked at her, "He's ten!" he grabbed her arm and yanked her up and immedeatly they began to scream at each other. Dallas' eyes widened because he'd never heard a girl, even a Greasy older girl in Tulsa- talk like that to a Hood!

"You think you're just so cool, huh, daddy-o?! So tough- so swingin'- so hoppin'! You're such a big badass- your brass balls! Well guess what, fella' you don't scare me none!" she jabbed a long finger nail into his chest serveral times in her loud fit.

"If I had a right mind I'd smack you so hard your mama felt it!" Al shouted at her, Dallas shrank back next to Skinny Jim and Alexander who were over by the long table of assorted drinks- ignoring the fight, but Dallas couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Then why don't ya'? I ain't no pansy Prep!" she spat the last word. Dallas wondered if that was anything like a Soc, "I ain't no skirt for your arm, honey! You smack me you've got a harpy on your ass like that!" she snapped her fingers

"I already got a harpy!" Al yelled, throwing his tattoo'd arms in the air furiously,

"Oh, boo-hoo!" she hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously, "You know what, I'm outta' here!" she tossed her head, nose in the air, eyes shut like she was too good for him. "Don't gotta take these insults. I'm a woman- not a wallet!"

"Cause'a you I ain't got no wallet t'speak of! Go on, get outta' here ya' dame!" he spat waving her off with frenzied, battered hands. She snapped a final glare at him and stormed for the door. She was pretty- Dallas acknowleded. She had on a short lepard-prnt skirt and fishnet stalking, her blouse was frilly and purple matching the pair of heels she wore, and over that was a baggy, brown leather jacket that was too big for her. Dallas wondered if it was her boyfriend's jacket. Al stood, glaring at the door through which she departed hatefully.

"Three..." Alexander murmured, his low voice a booming whisper making Dallas jump

"Two..." Skinny Jim whispered through his hyena-smile, his deep, almost hollow eyes glittering mischeviously

"One" they said together

At that exact moment Al huffed and shouted, "Martha! Wait!" and jogged out the door after her. There was a short pause before the entire room of hoods and greasers burst into laughter. Cackling and Dallas was reminded of hyena's- their grins wide, showing shrap imperfect teeth, eyes scrunched tight with their howls. He wondered why that was so funny.

"Oh boy.." one boy rolled off of a couch and walked towards them- he had black hair rolling over his forehead, brushed to the right, brown eyes, and tan skin. Dallas stared- he was Mexica or something. Right? He didn't know. "..Boy, oh boy, hey- fella's. Who's the ankle-biter?" he ruffeled Dallas' hair good-naturdley

"Hey! I'm ten years old!" Dallas shotued batting his hand away, glaring at him

The kid smiled, "Hey'a little friend! I'm Joey." he said ruffling Dallas' hair again, "You another feisty catch? Al always finds feisty folks to bring 'round. Tha's the problem with our gang- we're too feisty for our own good."

Dallas blinked, "What? So- I'm in your gang?"

"Maybe" Skinny Jim grinned, "After the initiation."

"Initiation?" Dallas gulped. He didn't like the sound of that! Back in Tulsa if the guys you bummed around with were a gang then you were in their gang it was just that simple. Al and Martha returned then and seemed to be on good terms- oh- Dallas realized, she was his girlfriend. Al did ask him if he'd like to take a stab at the gang initiation- he gulped and agreed. There were at least a dozen older boys there and he wasn't excited about the idea of getting called a sissy for not trying. It was simple: get real drunk.

Dallas had never been drunk before, Tim and him almost were once but then Tim's dad caught them and they got in trouble. Dallas grabbed the first can of beer he saw, popped the tab and began to drink.

--

"Ohhh" he groaned the next morning, lying on an unfamilar couch that smelled funny like sweat, musk, smoke and beer, Martha sat with his head in her lap, rubbing his stomach to soothe him. This was Al's apartment he'd gotten it for cheap rent from Mike because Martha was Mike's neice, and Skinny Jim's cousin but they weren't on good terms. Dallas hadn't asked why, or if he had he was too drunk to remember her answer.

"Just go to sleep, Dally," she smiled down at him, "Go to sleep and I'll tell your mom that we're going to hang out with you for the day."

She may have looked like some trashy slut, what with her make-up and fashion he'd think she was waiting for someone to jump and rape her, but right now she was the most wonderful person in the world and she was kind, warm, and smelled like vanilla. Vanilla reminded him of cake, which reminded him of home, and he liked home. He liked Tulsa. He was asleep again soon.

--

He woke up a second time the next morning to his alarm clock, he got up and ready for school that morning- it was Monday and he'd slept through Sunday entirely. His mother was jabbering about how sweet and kind all the older kids were. He hadn't said anything because she wasn't talking to him, she didn't even notice him as she bustled around the apartment getting ready- she was talking to Mike. Mike didn't notice him either and they swept out of the apartment without a word to him.

That made him feel lousy and he went to school in a horrible funk- today it bothered him even more that no other kids wanted to talk to him, that the teachers classes were so packed they didn't know his name. Everyone called him 'new kid'. He was scared to answer questions in class because they all laughed when he spoke because of his accent. He hated it. Hated New York, hated Mike, hated his parents, hated feeling his eyes burn because he wasn't going to cry because now he was ten, and ten-year-olds don't cry! It made him miss Tulsa more than ever!

Finally it ended and he dragged himself out the front doors- head hung low. His eyes still burned with the unshed tears and as he was dragging his feet over the muddy front lawn he heard a car honk. He turned his head and his eyes opened wide and stopped burning- Al was sitting with Martha in a bright, shiny Chevy Corvette! He let out a heavy sigh and ran up to them.

"Wow. Oh- wow! Golly what a ride!" he exclaimed breahtlessly staring at it, "What a tuff car!"

Al grinned proudly, "She is a cherry, huh?" he asked, ignoring the weird look Dallas gave him, "Get in the car, Dally. Just climb up 'round the side. You can jump can't'ya'?" he said

Dallas nodded and jumped scrambling up into the car. He was grinning- oh, wow. He wondered how tuff he looked sitting in the back of a Corvette! He knew other kids were looking at him enviously.

"So, kid wanna go get a burger?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as they sped up and bolted straight up the street leaving rubber tracks in their wake- leaving speechless little kids there too.

Martha looked at him, "You better slow down, honey or I'll walk!" she hissed warningly and he slowed down a bit. Dallas grinned and leaned back in his seat. Oh yeah- he was tuff. He had to get started on that letter to Tim!

--

Weeks ticked by, Dallas hardly noticed he was cool. He was the height of cool to the other kids in his school- but he always left them in a cloud when Al picked him up from school every day in that nice, shiny Corvette. They'd get a burger and he'd go to Al's apartment where Martha would help him with his school work. On fridays and saturays he'd get real drunk with the older kids- they were even teaching him to smoke but he was bad at it, he kept inhaling the smoke.

It soon got very cold, the trees lost their bright, colorful leaves and the sky was grey and the snow was piling up thick on the streets, sidewalks, and cars. Dallas had never seen snow before- his mother bough him a nice jacket and sweatshirt he wore almost all the time. Martha thought it was really funny how he stomped in the snow- watching it crunch under his boots. He was with Martha a lot these days- He loved the snow, even if it was really cold. Al drove a powder blue Chevrolet Bel-Air instead. Corvette's weren't hard-tops and it wasn't cool having piles of snow in your car.

Martha didn't come with him one day, and then Al killed the engine in an alley a block from his apartment, "Kid- you ever get in a real fight?" he asked turning to look at the boy in the passenger seat.

"Yeah" Dallas nodded, confused, "Why?"

"I'm a man short for this fight commin' up. You think you can handle yourself?" his eyes were hard and serious

Dallas squirmed under his gaze, "Mm- yes. Yes. I could handle it, Al!" he said firmly

Al smiled, "Tough kid. Real tough kid." he started the engine and they drove the last block to the apartment building.

Well? I'm sorry if its no good. I tried real hard to make it good. Flames not wanted but I'll accept them.