A/N: I'm back! Yes, by the way, this is a (very late) tribute to Virginia Tech. This chapter switches POVs just so you know.

Disclaimer: I don't even own this computer, so why would I own the Outsiders?

I awoke at 8:00 am to my damned alarm beeping annoyingly. After about 5 minutes of that shit, my roommate Mark walked over and shut it off.

"Thanks buddy." I told him. He shrugged then glared.

"Look ya lazy dipshit, get up and turn off your own damn alarm." He replied before going back to the bathroom to finish changing. I literally fell out of bed before making my way to the other side of my bed to fix my hair. Yeah, I'm not even in Tulsa anymore, but I still care about my hair.

By the time I was done getting dressed and ready, Mark was in the kitchen eating toast.

"Hey, you didn't make any for me!" I whined as I sat down. Mark shrugged nonchalantly.

"Shoulda hurried your ass up." I made my own toast before sitting down. Mark and I had German in room 207 at 9. I really didn't want to take it, but Mark got sick of my indecisiveness about it and told me I should just do it. I was writing a book about World War II and had to be able to speak and write fluent German. I hadn't told Darry about it yet because I wanted him to be surprised when I handed him the rough draft for his birthday. I decided to approve it with him because he was the only other one at the house that read as much as me.

I was now in class in room 207 in Norris Hall. It was 8:57, so I was right on time. Class started promptly at 9. The teacher started the lecture on the history of German and demanded that we take notes.

It was around 9:13 when I started hearing popping noises and yells from across the hall. Since Hydro Engineering right across the hall, I figured it was just some demonstration that went wrong. That was, until the door crashed open and in walked Seung-Hui Cho, a South Korean citizen who majored in English, walked in with a Walther P .22 in his hands. I had told the gang about him once.

FLASHBACK

"He's probably a terrorist." Two-Bit said, serious for once.

"Two-Bit! He's just some dude from South Korea! Don't be racist!" Soda exclaimed, hitting him in the back of the head. Two-Bit muttered a quiet "ow" before Darry stood up.

"For once, I agree with the idiot over here." He told us all. Soda and I silently glared at him while Two-Bit cheered.

"I don't believe he means much harm." I muttered softly.

END FLASHBACK

'Boy, was I wrong." Was my first thought as he stood there. A few of the braver students tried to grab him, but they were shot instantly. He quickly unleashed hell on the classroom by spraying bullets everywhere. My instincts screamed at me to duck and cover, but they shut up as soon as they realized that it was too late. I felt blinding, white-hot pain in my stomach, leg, and chest. The last thing I heard was screaming. Oh, was that Mark screaming my name?

WE ARE NOW SWITCHING TO SODA POV

All I could do was bawl like a baby. My little brother, the one I swore to help Darry protect, might be hurt . . . or even worse . . . dead.

'Don't think that!' a little voice in my head screamed at me. But I couldn't help it. Mom and Dad's deaths made me think horrible thoughts like that, especially when it came to Pony. I knew that the entire gang cared and all, but I was closest to Pony, especially since Mom and Dad died. We got even closer after Johnny and Dally died. I didn't even think that was possible but it was.

Steve had gotten closer after Johnny and Dally died too. It was probably out of pity at first, but then they realized that they had a lot in common.

The phone rang loudly, interrupting my thoughts and dragging everyone out of their own personal stupors. Darry and I both sprang for it, but, of course, Darry got it first. He is the athlete, after all. I certainly wasn't. Plus, after we found out about the shooting, I had been chain-smoking to beat the Devil.

"Hello?" Darry asked breathlessly as soon as he picked up the receiver. We were all silently praying for a miracle. Maybe Pony'd gotten sick and hadn't gone to school today. Hey, a sick Pony was better than a dead Pony.

"H-Hey Mark! Is, is he? What?" Darry was yelling into the receiver. That was clearly not good.

"Yeah . . . yeah . . . we'll be there as soon as possible Mark. Thanks for letting us know. Bye." Darry hung up the phone. We all stared at him expectantly as he turned to face us. By the expression on his face, he was worried. That, in turn, made me worried. His face was grim; his jaw was clenched. He looked like he was trying not to cry.

I felt my stomach knot and do flips as he spoke.

"Pony's in the hospital in critical condition. Let's go, boys."