As always, the usual warnings and disclaimers apply.


Chapter Two

Angela huddles in her room, her ear pressed against the flimsy wooden door. Come on, she thinks, desperate. Get your ass over here already, Curtis.

Not that she'd dare say that to his face. Yet.

Almost as if on cue, she hears the front door being thrown open and a set of feet tramping in. It's raining outside, and she imagines water sloshing off his shoes. Track shoes. He's a known track star, and...

Geez, Angie, you're starting to sound like a slutty cheerleader or something.

So she shuts up her thoughts and concentrates on the sounds.

"Hey, Curly. You ready?"

The hell?

"No, no. We can't leave yet. Tim'll get suspicious. We gotta act normal."

Angela wants to whoop in triumph, except she can't be discovered. Instead, she silently glories in the fact that she was right. It's exhilarating.

Now her curiosity is piqued; what is Curly planning? If he's afraid of Tim finding out, it has to be something big. She can use this as blackmail, if need be. Tim will always listen to her word over Curly's. Sure, she does things he doesn't approve of often enough, but Curly is about as trustworthy as a pig. Probably less.

"Act normal?" Ponyboy's voice sounds incredulous. "When the Brumlys are probably going to kill us?"

Curly, you are dead meat.

The Brumlys. None other than the most violent group of hoods in the city. Tim is a hood, most definitely, and Curly. But at least Tim's fair and reasonable. Tim wouldn't cut you up just to watch you bleed.

She sees Curly wince in her mind's eye. "Yeah," he says, "it sounds worse when you say it like that."

"Can you remind me why I agreed to this?"

"Because Darry–"

"That was rhetorical, Curls."

"Sorry."

There's a silence, and it turns out to be the right moment. Angel slips out of her room and waltzes down the stairs. She's made sure her hair, which has always been almost too long, is looking presentable. Nice, even. "Curly, what did you do with my homework?" she asks. She figures the Curtis kid will like her more if she pretends to do her homework.

Curly stares at her, incredulous. "Shit, Angel, since when do you do your homework? Or go to school, even?"

She fights not to glare at him. He knows full well she goes at least once a week. They all do. They've got to keep the truant officers off their back. But instead of replying to him, she smiles as brightly as a Shepard can at Curtis. "Hi there, Pony."

Ponyboy is confused. Maybe even intimidated. She's only ever said one word to him before, and that was to fuck off when she was ten. "Hello," he says, quiet.

Next order of operation: insert herself into the thick of whatever they're doing.

"So, what's with the Brumlys, Curls?"

Curly chokes. "You heard that?" he demands, eyes wide. Damn, she imagines him thinking, how the hell did she find out? "Angel, you know you aren't supposed to ... to eavesdrop."

"And you know you aren't supposed to do any sort of rumble without Tim."

"I'm not five," he mutters.

"Neither am I."

Ponyboy is looking white at the prospect of Tim finding out. "You aren't going to tell Tim, are you?"

This is perfect.

"Tell you what; my mouth is shut if you bring me along."

"No. Absolutely not," Curly says automatically.

"I'll just watch."

Her brother rolls her eyes. "Last time you said that, you ran into the middle of it and punched some guy, then ran away screaming because it hurt your hand, all–"

"He was killing you, if you don't remember."

"–all because you punched him with your thumb inside of your hand. I thought we'd taught you better than that."

"Shut up, Curly. I'm coming, unless you want Tim to show up mid-rumble."

"Fine. If you get hurt, though, it's your own fault. Don't you dare blame me. You do, I'll kill you."

He wouldn't, so she smiles. Triumphant. She's won, and he knows it.

xxxxxx

Angela has to ride in the backseat.

She would have been fine with squeezing into the bench-like front seat with the other two, but her brother wasn't. She figures she's already pushed her luck enough, so she doesn't complain. Out loud, at least. In her head, she's cursing up a storm. The backseat makes her feel so young. Juvenile.

Curly still hasn't explained what sort of thing they've got with the Brumlys. Maybe she's better off not knowing, but she's still curious. She's always curious. She wonders if it's skin on skin, or blades. Maybe she'll throw herself in the the mix again, if it's skin. This time, she'll know how to punch. Tim and Curly made sure of that after last time, though they'd chewed her out first.

Angel steals glances at Pony all throughout the ride. His hair is almost auburn, greased back, pretty. His eyes are gray-green. Such a tantalizing color. She wonders if he's a good kisser. Then she tells herself she is doing an awful lot of wondering lately, and she shuts her mind voice up.

Curly pulls off the truck in an empty lot on the Brumlys' territory. "Stay in the car," he says as he gets out.

"Fat chance."

He's about to argue with her when Ponyboy says, "Let her go. If she gets herself killed, it's her fault, ain't it?"

She loves him more then.

"You hear him, Angel? You die, it's on you."

Her brother grins to show he's joking.

Angela gets out of the truck.

There are five of the Brumly group waiting, all looking taller and stronger than Curly. Certainly many times the size of Ponyboy. One sneers at her brother, says, "It's just the two of you? Good luck."

Curly looks panicked. "Ray was supposed to come-and Matt-"

Members of their gang-Tim's gang.

Who weren't there.

"Yeah, and they're not here, are they? Guess it's just us." The Brumly guy looks surly and pleased with himself.

"Those aren't fair odds-"

"Ain't no one ever told you life ain't fair?"

Angela steps forward, looking between Curly and the opposer. "You can't do that," she tells him. "Tim'll kill you."

Another Brumly laughs. "So you brought your girl to a rumble, Shepard? You're stupider than we thought. Unless you plan to let a woman fight."

"She ain't my girl," Curly says through his teeth. "She's my sister. And she ain't about to fight."

He's right. She is starting too doubt whether she will punch one of those boys. They sure look huge. Scary.

Ponyboy clears his throat and speaks up. "Hey, look, can we call this off?"

"Sure, if you want to wake up dead tomorrow. This was your idea. We don't like it when people waste our time." The Brumly's grin is sinister. Angela shivers.

"All right, we'll fight you," Curly decides, and she wants to scream at him. "Skin on skin."

"Deal," the Brumlys' leader says.

Angela can't see his hands. They're behind his back.