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I woke up groggily and automatically checked the time next to the bed. It was five in the morning. It was strange that I was awake at this time of day. I always sleep like a log.

I think my pounding headache woke me up. It wasn't as acute as when I felt as if my organs were being mushed up into my head, but it was plenty painful.

I gasped lightly. Someone stirred next to me, and I was surprised to fine a head of tousled blonde hair laying next to me in bed. I smiled and felt a lot better all of the sudden.

I remembered that I hadn't done my homework the night before and I groaned. I was getting b's in math and english, although I hadn't told Darry yet.

The truth is that school was hard. In middle school I could get A's without even trying, but in high school I had to struggle to get b's.

My language arts teacher hated me. She was a real jerk named "Mrs. Reynolds." I suppose that she didn't like me because in the beginning of the year, I sent her a letter basically insulting her teaching style. Although I had to admit, she had taught me a lot.

I sighed and began to scribble the answer to an assignment. Thinking about the Cold War and feminism and whatever else was going on in the world and writing about it was like putting my migraine on steroids.

I didn't notice that I wasn't paying attention anymore. I felt light headed and I found it difficult to breathe, as if some of the oxygen was getting lost on the way to my lungs.

I gasped greedily at the air and staggered back over to my bed, breathing as though I had just run a marathon. Shit.

I swore under my breath. Running. I had a track tournament today. Some scouts would be there. I knew it was unlikely that I could get into college on a track scholarship. There was this kid, Jack Howard, who was much better at everything than me. He was a nice kid, pretty rich though. I felt bad for hating his guts.

I closed my eyes, dreading the coming day.

I was right to dread school that day. I found out that I got a C on my midterm, meaning that I had to get an 100 on the final in order to get an A in the class.

I thought mournfully that I wouldn't be seeing much of my friends or family for the next few months. Not until summer.

I had almost cried in english because she had picked on me in front of the whole class, using my presentation as an example of what not to do.

Anyway, I was relieved to be making my way onto the track. Jack Howard grinned at me. "Hey Ponyboy!" Sometimes I wonder how he can stand being so nice and smart.

"Hi Jack."

"You nervous?"

"Uh, yeah a little."

"Ah, don't be. You're gonna do fine." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I heard that coach told the scout to look out for you. You really have a good chance."

"Yeah, but your the better runner." He grinned again.

"But they aren't going to be looking for me. They're from Tulsa community college. They'd be lucky to have you." TCC. Perhaps not the best school, but the best school my family could afford to send me to. Some people dream of going to Harvard or Parsons, but I just wanted to go to TCC.

"Thanks Jack. We should probably warm up now." As we began to stretch, chatting happily with the team, two people walked onto the field and began to speak earnestly to coach. The scouts. I thought.

I began to sweat and I choked on my water as I downed it. "You ok?" Jack asked concernedly. I nodded over at the scouts.

"Don't worry. Just pretend they aren't even here. You've gotten first in your event each time." My even was the mile run. Probably the most popular event, and therefore the most competitive.

The competing high school stretched a few yards away from us and the spectators began to trickle onto the field.

Soda waved cheerily at me, and I waved back. Darry looked tense, his eyes directed at the scouts. So he had noticed too that this was a bigger game than I had let on.

Two-Bit was commentating of course. He maintained a C average just so that he could blab at sporting events and people were forced to listen. The audience couldn't get enough of his jokes, and there was one group of girls that only went to these events because of him.

It was perhaps lucky that my event was first because my heart was already pounding so hard it sounded like it was against a microphone.

"On your marks," Two-Bit said excitedly. "Get set...GO!" The less experienced runners raced ahead, grinning as they left behind the eleventh and twelfth graders.

As usual when I ran, I began to hear songs in my head. I wish that there was a way for me to listen to music as I ran, but I just had to settle for my brain approximations of Elvis.

The track was small, so we had to round it five times. I started breathing hard during the second round. The younger students had all fallen behind, some of them even walking.

I was surprised to find that I was the first sophmore. Jack was usually ahead of me, but he was lagging behind today.

I was in maybe tenth overall, but I was pretty confident I could beat all of the juniors and maybe a couple of seniors.

On the third lap, it began to get really hard. I was panting and my legs burned but I pushed forwards. What's wrong with you?

I wasn't usually this slow or tired by only the third lap. Then, quite suddenly I felt a stabbing pain. It hurt so much, I couldn't even tell where it came from. I cried out and fell, but I didn't register reaching the ground.

A soc must have stabbed me. I guessed. There could be no other possible explanation. But as I looked blearily for the offender, I found no one except a concerned face looming above me.

I began to convulse with the pain, and I think I was screaming.

The last thing I remember is seeing two figures running across the field to me. Darry and Soda would save me, I thought naively.