A/N: Hi! This chapter introduces our third main character of this story, Kristina Winston. By the way, just so you know, this takes place in June 1966, because the Outsiders novel took place in early fall, 1965. We tweaked something a little, though. Johnny is now about Pony's age, fifteen (Pony will be fifteen soon in this story). This will influence the plot, so it's not for nothing. Sorry about that. If it bothers you, then this may not be the story for you. Well, anyway, please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :)

Warning: This chapter contains some profanity (it's an argument) and references to substance abuse (but it is condemned).

P.S. Thanks for the reads, and a special thanks to BlackWiltedRose for being our first reviewer, and to Pony'sgirlfriend for being our second! We really appreciate all of you! :)

Chapter 2: Don't Look Back

Kristina's Perspective

"Kid, where the hell are you going?" my momma growled from my doorway as she puffed smoke rings into my room. After all this, she was smoking.

"I'll figure it out," I snapped back, shoving the last of my things into my duffel bag. "Why the hell do you care?"

"I just got outta the hospital, why are you so mean to me?" she cried out but I just scoffed under my breath. Her perception on reality was so damn skewed.

"You've lost touch with reality," I spat and she countered,

"You're outta your goddamn mind." With one last long drag, she threw the cigarette down on the ground and stomped on it, leaving a tiny scorch mark on the crusty old carpet.

Tuning out her screams of indignation, I decided to do one last thing before I left. I slipped into the bathroom and clicked the lock shut- it was a miracle the thing still worked and searched the cabinets for her drugs. She knew what I was doing, and began pounding on the door with all her might as I flushed it all down the toilet.

I exited the bathroom with a smirk on my face and she grabbed me by the front of my leather jacket, slamming me up against the wall. As her hands circled tightly around my throat, the smug smile melted off my face and I shoved her off me furiously.

"How dare you?" she shrieked, spittin' mad. I stormed on past her and continued down the tiny little hallway. "That was my property! You have no right-"

"Shut the hell up!" I shouted at her, every ounce of patience slipping away. Not like I had much to begin with.

"You can't talk to me like that!" she cried pathetically and I lost it.

"You don't get it! Christ, you probably don't even remember! I came home from goddamn school last week, and what do I find? You, splayed out on the ground with puke all over the place. YOU OVERDOSED AGAIN! I thought you were dead! You weren't fucking breathing! I had to restart your heart! You're so damn lucky I stole a car and drove you to the hospital 'cause you forgot to pay the phone bills again, because if I hadn't you'd probably be stone-cold dead."

Her cloudy brown eyes shadowed over in sadness and regret, but it was all shallow. It would go away for her when she shot up again, but not for me. And I was done. I was fucking done. "Baby, you know that rehab thing ain't workin' for me-"

I could have spit in her eye right then. "You didn't even last a week, Momma. You promised to stop usin' for the thousandth time. You were going to do it for me. And I was stupid enough to believe you- again. But then you found another boy toy who liked to shoot up too and that just went all out the window, didn't it?" When she didn't respond, I said more harshly, "Didn't it?!"

"I'll quit, baby, I will-"

Against my will, moisture began to build up in my eyes and I had to blink it away. "I wanna believe ya. You know I do. But I've heard that song and dance so many damn times that I just can't."

She dove forward to capture my wrist in a vice grip but I ripped it away like her hand was burning hot. "Don't leave now, Krissy. C'mon, I'll get better."

Great, now the tears were falling. Just fan-fucking-tastic. "Momma, just last week you overdosed and I walk in today with you as high as a kite. You ain't gettin' better, and I ain't gonna stick around to see you crash and burn over and over again. After Dally left and Dad went to jail, I've had a front row seat to that and I'm done, Momma. I'm sick of tired of getting my hopes up when I know you ain't ever gonna stop using."

She had nothing else to say because there wasn't any rebuttal to that. Opening up the door, I looked over my shoulder and said through my tears, "I can't do this no more. Goodbye, Momma." I grabbed my guitar case near the door and my duffel bag and I was gone.

See, now I had a problem. I was wandering through the streets of a rough part of Brooklyn, homeless. Yeah, some of my fellow gang members would probably take me in, but I was a lone wolf and they knew it.

So, I was on my lonesome and for whatever reason, I found myself walking to the train station. An idea was floating around in my head like a fly that wouldn't leave me alone that maybe I could take the next train to Tulsa. I didn't really know what I'd find there. Yeah, I was aware that my brother ran off there a few years back, but I wasn't sure what to expect. The Dally that left was angry and bitter enough, sure, but I knew full well he was on a downward spiral.

Maybe I'd go to Tulsa and maybe I'd even find him, but I didn't know if I would recognize him. He got arrested for the first time at ten years old, and he ran away from home about a year later. Who knew what he'd be like now?

My feet were working without any direction from my head as I moved to the ticket station. I didn't have time to be unsure about my decision because I was already saying to the ticket man, "One ticket to Tulsa."