A/N: Thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews! For you, here is event number two. I'm sure you can all guess what it is. I'm not exactly a suspenseful writer, but I generally like things to go slower than I had them in the last chapter. I tried to show that in this one. So, remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome!

When I was sleeping in the lot, I heard someone call my name. It was Ponyboy, sounding scared, almost frenzied. I could have sworn I was just dreaming, but you never really hear things in dreams, you just think you do. That was why, when the footsteps on the gravel crunched in my ears and Ponyboy called out for me again, I immediately jumped to my feet. Pony had been standing so close I nearly knocked him down in the process.

He was unfazed. "Come on, Johnny, we're running away."

He didn't ask me if we should, he didn't ask me if it was the right thing to do, he didn't even ask me if I wanted to. He just started running. I didn't ask why. I just started following. That was something I always liked about Pony. We didn't talk much, but we always understood each other. I knew he was just speaking rashly and didn't mean it, and that we'd probably turn right back around in a few blocks. Deep down, I think Ponyboy knew that, too.

Sure enough, only a few blocks away from the lot, Pony suddenly sat down. He'd been crying for the past few minutes, but now he let it all loose. "Easy, Ponyboy. We'll be okay," I said. I didn't know what else to say.

It took several moments of silence and my last cigarette, but the kid finally calmed down. His voice was still kind of shaky when he told me about Darry yelling and hitting him, and how he just couldn't take it and ran off. I softened at that, because I didn't like the idea that anyone was hitting Ponyboy, but I knew Darry well enough to know that it wouldn't happen again. Darry was just under a lot of stress, was all.

I just wanted to get Ponyboy home and this whole situation sorted out. As Abe Lincoln said, a house divided couldn't stand (or something like that). We needed the Curtis family to stay strong. They were the glue of the gang, the whole reason why we were brought together. I was not a smart kid, so I couldn't think of anything better than to remind him of what he had.

"I think I like it better when the old man's hitting me," I told him. "At least then I know he knows who I am. I walk in that house, and nobody says anything. I walk out, and nobody says anything. I stay away all night, and nobody notices. At least you got Soda. I ain't got nobody."

Ponyboy seemed to be startled by this. His eyes got big, and he wiped away the rest of his tears. Now, the tables seemed to be turned. He wanted to remind me of what I had, even though I already knew it. "Shoot, you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang."

This conversation went on for about another minute. Ponyboy was all cooled off, and finally he said, "Let's walk to the park and back. Then maybe I'll be cooled off enough to go home."

"Okay," I replied, shooting down the smile that wanted to come up. "Okay." I would have said I told you so, but that wasn't just the kind of thing I said, plus I never really told him.

By the time we got to the park, I was frozen half to death. I buttoned up my jacket and flipped up my collar, then crossed my arms and hugged myself tightly. "Ain't you about to freeze to death, Pony?" I asked, seeing as what he was wearing provided no protection whatsoever. I would've offered him my jacket, but on nights as cold as these, no one was that considerate. Not even me.

"You ain't a'woofing," he chattered at me, rubbing his bar arms and trying to smoke at the same time. I really wanted to get that kid home, but I knew I had to wait for him to regain himself completely. I could wait. I was a patient boy, and most people told me that I'd never get half the things I was waiting for, but I was still waiting for them.

Pony looked like he wanted to say something, but a car horn suddenly cut him off. We jumped in shock and whirled to face the source of it, immediately trying to look tough. It was two-thirty in the morning, for Pete's sake. That was when all the nutcases were out roaming.

But it wasn't the kind of nutcase we were thinking of.

No, it was a nutcase of a much different kind.

We were being circled by a blue mustang.

"Shit," I whispered, just as Ponyboy said in a hushed voice, though it was clear he wanted to yell, "What do they want? This is our territory. What are Socs doing this far east?"

I shook my head, doing my best not to tremble. No matter how terrified they were, greasers never showed fear. They stayed tough to the end. "I don't know," I replied, forcing my eyes into a glare, "but I bet they're looking for us." I swallowed thickly. "We picked up their girls."

"Oh, glory, this is all I need to top off a perfect night," Ponyboy groaned. He put out the cigarette, then looked around for escape routes. "Want to run for it?"

My eyes, however, never left the Socs. "It's too late now. Here they come." Five of them, in all their madras-wearing, overdressed, drunken glory, were quickly approaching us. Golly gee, I thought as Ponyboy and I tensed up, standing side by side and doing our darn best to hide our fear, we'll be lucky to survive the night. Two little scrawny greasers are no match for five big, mean-looking Socs…especially when the greasers picked up the Socs girls.

Soon, they had us and the fountain surrounded. I glanced around wildly, searching for any way out, though I knew there was none. My eyes settled on Bob, that Cherry girl's boy. A glint caught my eye, and I looked down to see the moonlight reflecting off his rings…the rings that left my scars on me…

Oh, lord, lord, lord…

"Hey, whadduya know?" Bob slurred, reeking horribly of English Leather. "Here's the little greasers that picked up our girls. Hey, greasers."

I narrowed my eyes at them, fighting down the panic. "You're out of your territory," I warned, my voice low and dangerous. God, I was good enough of an actor to make it to the big screens. "You'd better watch it."

A couple of them cussed at us. They tightened their circle around us, but Ponyboy and I stood our ground. I betted Dally would have been proud had he seen us. Bob kind of grinned at me, and I knew that he knew where that scar on my face came from. "Nope, pal," he said, just a tad too friendly, "you're the ones who'd better watch it. Next time you want a broad, pick up your own kind - dirt."

Pony was beginning to shake, but I knew it wasn't in fear. The kid was getting angry. When he got angry, he got smart. Don't, Pony, being smart only makes it worse for you, I begged him silently, hoping he'd hear.

"You know what a greaser is?" Bob asked, his voice suddenly low and lethal. "White trash with long hair."

Genuinely taken aback by this, I couldn't stop the gasp. Pony's eyes went wide, and I knew he was just as stricken as I was. Cussed out, sworn at, beat up…nothing really compared to being called scum by a guy who meant it. Suddenly, my glare wasn't so feigned…and I remembered Ponyboy's angry habits.

Before I could stop him, Ponyboy actually took a step forward and snapped, "You know what a Soc is?"

Oh, god, Pony, don't…it isn't a pleasant thing to be called, but don't make it worse for you. These guys are just drunk and angry enough to kill you…you can't die. We can't die tonight, not here. But, for the first time, Pony didn't seem to hear me.

"White trash with mustangs and madras." And then he spit at them.

The Socs seemed a little surprised at Ponyboy's flare, but they weren't fazed. Bob shook his head at us, smiling a drunk and dangerous smile. "You could use a bath, greaser. And a good working over," he said slowly. He tried to sound pleasant, like a friend offering a casual suggestion, but the malice in his voice was wavering just below the surface. I was twitching, desperate to get out of there. I wished they hadn't boxed us in.

Bob grinned like a hungry lion. "And we've got all night to do it." His eyes flicked over to one of his drinking buddies. "Give the kid a bath, David."

Like any person with half a mind would have done, Ponyboy tried to get away. The Soc had his arm in a second, though, twisting it behind his back. I felt my eyes widen as the Soc grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved his head into the fountain.

"Get off him!" I yelled without thinking, immediately running at the Soc. In a second, another one yanked me away, his arms tight around my body and pinning my arms to my sides. I was hauled into the air and thrown a few yards away. I landed hard on my chest. I tried to push myself to my hands and knees, gasping for air.

A Soc slammed me back down to the ground, his shoe digging into my back.

"You're going to kill him!" I choked out as loudly as I could. "You're…you're going too far…you'll kill him!" I was kicked in the shoulder, forcing me over and onto my back. I cried out in pain, then shouted, "Ponyboy! For God's sake, get off him!" A foot came down hard on my chest, and all the wind was knocked from my lungs.

For a moment, nothing happened. One of them, the Marcia girl's boyfriend, was standing away like a prop in the background. He looked horrified. Bob was sneering down at me, his foot still on my chest, a blade bright with the moonlight clutched tightly in his hand. I knew he recognized me the same as I recognized him, and he knew that he was the one who left those scars on me. He was proud of it. Then there was Ponyboy…he'd stopped struggling. His body was relaxed against the fountain…

"Ponyboy!" I gasped. There was a vicious burning in my side, like I'd been cut. Suddenly, I realized I had been. By my own switchblade. It must've nicked me when I'd been thrown.

I thought of that day, back on the lot…my scars…

No one was going to hurt me like that again.

No one was going to hurt Ponyboy at all.

Without thinking about it, I used all my strength to push me up. Bob, his foot still on my chest, was thrown off-balance. Next thing I knew, I was yelling, my switchblade clutched tightly in my hand. Bob hit the ground…I fell on top of him…

And then my blade was buried to the hilt in his chest.

I swear to you, Father Time himself stopped the clock to stare in shock at what I'd done. Bob seemed so surprised, so bewildered, as if there was no way that poor puppy dog had hurt him. No way that blood beginning to pool around him was his. No way he was dying…

And then he was dead. I watched the light leave his eyes. I swear to you, I would never forget that moment. Strangely, I wondered if Dally felt like this the first time he'd ever killed a man…

I heard yelling and screaming and the sound of the Socs running as fast as they could, but it all sounded to be a million miles away. I had killed someone. The car sputtered like a gunshot before speeding off, tires screeching. I had killed someone. Ponyboy was now collapsed on the pavement, unconscious but coughing, meaning he was alive…but I had killed someone.

Horrified, I yanked the knife out of Bob's chest, throwing myself backwards. I curled in on myself, my knees up to my chest and one elbow on my eyes. All I could do was stare at what I'd done…the life I had taken away.

Suddenly, I noticed Ponyboy was awake. He was staring at me, eyes desperate for some kind of answer.

"I killed him," I whispered. I was surprised to hear my voice so even. "I killed that boy."

The moonlight turned the blood into a funny silvery color. It almost looked like Bob was curled up in front of the moon…the man in the moon…

"Johnny, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Go ahead. I won't look at you."

Everything was silent for a moment. Eventually, Ponyboy rasped, "You really killed him, huh, Johnny."

"Yeah," I murmured, and then suddenly the details were spilling out of me. Pony being drowned…the knife in Bob's hand looking so much deadlier than any of his rings…how all the Socs ran. I couldn't stop myself until I squeaked, "They all ran…" I couldn't find anything else to say then. I guess that was all there was to say.

Ponyboy listened to me, but I knew he was getting scared. I would've helped him, but I couldn't. I was scared. Hell, I'd killed someone!

Finally, Ponyboy jumped up screaming about murder and the electric chair and being scared. I wanted to be right there with him, screaming and crying, but I couldn't. Ponyboy was the kid, not me (I was a kid, too, but two and a half years was an eternity in teen-years), and it was my fault we were in this mess. So, I couldn't do anything but try and calm the kid down. After a moment, he pulled away from me, whispering shakily, "Okay. I'm okay now."

I looked around, trying to think of a way to get us out of this. I began to think out loud. "We gotta get outta here. Get somewhere. Run away. The police'll be here soon." My hands were shaking, but I was surprised at how well I was holding myself together. I guess all that time of bottling stuff up could really come in handy. "We'll need money," I continued, my mind now switching to a supply list. "And maybe a gun. And a plan." Definitely a plan.

We needed a way to get away from the law.

And who was the expert at getting away from the law?

"Dally," I said, certain that he was the right person to go to. "Dally will get us outta here."

I sighed sadly, kicking at the ground. I guess we weren't going to turn back after a few blocks after all…