It was after dinner and I lay on my bed, not even trying to go to sleep. Soda had cooked because Darry got called away around three for a roofing question and hadn't gotten home in time to eat with the rest of us. Soda's macaroni-and-cheese was actually and surprisingly good, but recently milk products haven't been settling very well with me. God, I hope I'm not getting sick or anything. Darry can't afford to take me to the doctor right now; we're barely making it as it is! These thoughts were interrupted by a knock. Not on my door like a normal knock, but on my window. I got up and walked over to the window, but I crashed into several things before I got there though. I was almost asleep before whoever knocked on my window. I finally saw who it was and gasped audibly.

"Steve?" I asked incredulously. It was Steve Randle. Steve Randle damn it! "What the hell was he doing at my window at this godforsaken hour?" I was still pissed about earlier today, and this just added to my stress.

"We need your help," he said, not even noticing how angry I was.

"What? What do you mean 'we'? If this is about some loser at Buck's I'll-"

"It's Johnny," he interrupted me. I softened instantly.

"Where is he? Why didn't you just take him here?"

"We didn't want to move him. You'll see what I mean when we get there," normally I would just say 'who says I'm coming?" but this was Johnny. It didn't matter if he was in Texas, New Mexico, or even Canada, I'd find a way to get to him.

I quickly opened my window and climbed through. It was only a few more weeks 'til school started so it was warm and I didn't need a jacket. I glanced at Steve while we walked, about to ask him a question when I noticed. "Steve, you're hurt," I stated astonished. It hurt me when any of my friends were injured, even ass-wipes like Steve.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said, not even slowing his stride. He had a four-and-a-half-inch gash running from his hairline to his jaw on his right side, going across his eye.

"Well it looks horrible, let me look at it," I said firmly, getting in front of him then walking backwards.

"No, Johnny needs it more than me. He's the priority."

"Well right now you're here, so you're the priority,"

He paused, deliberating, before he continued walking.

"It will take a second. I just need to see if-"

"We're here," he interrupted solemnly. I turned around and saw that we were near Dally's house. I looked around quickly to find Johnny. It was then that I heard the whimpering.

"Oh my God," I said breathlessly and moved closer. "Who did this to him?" I asked, my anger rising. Johnny was a good kid who got beat up by his parents a lot. Anyone who would do this to Johnny didn't deserve to live, and I knew everyone here was thinking the same thing.

" 'Couple 'a Socs in a blue 'Stang," Dally answered through his bared teeth. My anger flared and I felt the need to punch something. Why does this always happen to us? Those damn Socs are always beating on us, but this time they went too far. This was Johnny. His parents ignored him unless they were yelling or punching him. He had never done anything to them, or anyone for that matter. I calmed myself down before quietly examining the already broken teenager. His face was swollen with several cuts littering his tanned forehead and cheeks. He would have two black eyes tomorrow and probably some scars. His left wrist was severely sprained if not broken, and his shoulder had come out of its socket. His shirt was torn to pieces so I didn't worry about it as I ripped it open to reveal his sculpted chest bruised and bleeding. Only his left leg didn't appear damaged, his right was torn in places in his jeans with a growing bloodstain.

"I need some scissors, a first-aide kit, a needle and thread, and two cloths, one dry and one wet," I gingerly moved my finger across his face to move his long, almost black hair away, and he moaned in agony. "And some painkillers or liquor. Not both," I added. "Hurry up!" I commanded when they just stood there. Two-Bit and Steve rushed into Dally's house to retrieve the items I requested. Dally stayed, so I asked him about what happened.

"Johnny was in the lot, lookin' for our football when a car full showed up. They started beatin' on 'im. Two-Bit and Steve were walkin' to your house from a party when they heard them. They ran to help but were outnumbered, even with Two-Bit's blade. One of 'em pulled a knife on Steve. They finally chased them away, but not without gettin' pretty beat up themselves. They managed to carry him here and Two woke me up and said that Steve had gone to get you," I looked up at him and saw that he had turned away from Johnny. Dallas Winston had been in jail so many times that they put a revolving door in jail of whatever town he was in. he wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. But it was Johnny that caused him pain and made him afraid to see. I got up and turned to him, looking directly into his eyes. They were cold and blue as ever, but deep in them held the emotion he was feeling. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something of comfort, when Two-Bit and Steve came back outside with everything I had asked for.

"There weren't any painkillers so I grabbed a bottle of vodka," Two-Bit said a little too loudly. He probably had a swig or two himself.

"That's fine," I said seriously, returning to Johnny. I took the scissors from Steve's outstretched hand and quickly cut off the right leg of his jeans. What I saw horrified me. It was worse than I had thought. The entire front of his thigh was shredded to bits with almost no skin on it. I would have just given him stitches, but there was no skin to sew up. The audible gasp resonated in the absolute silence of the night, I vaguely wondered who the gasp came from but the thought was pushed away.

"We have to get him to a hospital, I can slow the blood for now, but he won't get any better unless he gets to a hospital," I felt Dally cringe beside me at the mention of a hospital. Greasers don't usually show up there unless it's bad, and Johnny was really, really bad.

It was silent for a moment as everyone processed my demands. They were still except for me. I was trying to fix Johnny.

"Hold the cloth on his legs, keep pressure on it," Dally did as I asked and Johnny groaned in pain.

"Here you go Johnny, this'll make it better," Two-Bit said gently as he poured the vodka into Johnny's slightly elevated mouth.

"Steve, go to the hospital and let them know Johnny's coming. Tell them he's really bad," I had get Steve out of here. He was in too much shock for him to be any use. Steve ran in the direction of the hospital and I returned my attention to Johnny. Dally was keeping pressure on Johnny's leg, but Two-Bit was drinking the vodka. I slapped his arm.

"You gotta leave some for Johnny, Two." I said Two-Bit just snorted and kept drinking.

"There's a whole 'nother bottle in the cab'net," he slurred, the new alcohol buzzing the already drunk greaser.

"Well then make yourself useful and get it," I was beginning to get irritated with Two-Bit and his drinking. "And make sure you leave some for Johnny!" I yelled as he walked away. Dally and I sat there for a moment in silence before I sighed. "Why does this happen?" I asked rhetorically. "Why? Why Johnny? Why?" I broke off, realizing I was crying. I never cried, not in front of people at least. I suddenly felt a hesitant, yet comforting hand on my back. I turned to Dally and saw and uncertain and strange warmth in his eyes. One of his hands was on my back with the other still pressing on Johnny's leg. I moved into him and let the tears flow. He was holding me against his chest with one hand, and I clung to him as I sobbed. Dally wasn't a comforting person and I could tell he wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew. Dally was showing emotion, something that never happens. He rested his cheek on my head and rubbed my back, trying to calm me down. The sobs were becoming less frequent and I could finally feel and think. Two-Bit had probably found the vodka and was drinking Dally dry. Dally wound probably me mad later. Our breathing was becoming synchronized and I had stopped crying. We were holding each other. Dallas Winston and Atlana Reynolds. And it felt as natural as eating chocolate cake everyday.

The perfect moment was broken my Johnny's cry.

"We need to go now," I said, removing myself from his grasp. "Keep pressure on his leg," I reminded him as I wiped my eyes. Two-Bit staggered out of the house, bottle in hand.

"Help me pick him up, but-"

"Keep pressure on his leg. I know," he had his usual 'serious face' on. Two-Bit walked up to us, talking too loud.

"Hey y'all! Here, lemme help…" he trailed off, struggling to help pick up Johnny. He could have, but he was too drunk to put any effort into it, so I picked up the slack.

"Thanks Two," I said sarcastically. Had most of Johnny's weight on me, not that he was heavy, he was just bulky. Dally relieved me of some of my burden, and we quickly jogged to the hospital. It wasn't very far away, so we made it there in just a few minutes.

The inside of the hospital was stark white and smelled of antiseptic. There was a doctor waiting there, along with several nurses holding a hospital bed.

"This is Johnny Cade, he got beat up. His right leg is really bad," I said as I set him on the bed with Dally's help. Two-Bit stumbled over to a chair and sat down. I could tell he would be down for a while. I could feel tears forming in my eyes as they whisked Johnny down the hall, but I blinked them back. Dally moved to my side. It wasn't the physical comfort that he had previously shown, but it was good enough.

"What time is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"Two somethin' I guess," he answered nonchalantly. Of course the time wasn't a big deal to him. Of course.

"Damn, no wonder I'm tired."

"Where's Steve?" Two-Bit hollered from his chair. Apparently he had woken up. A really drunk Two-Bit was going to be hell in this hospital.

"Yea, where is Steve?" Dally asked, feigning interest.

"I'll ask," I said with a sigh. It wasn't that I wasn't concerned about Steve; I just wanted to go home and back to sleep right now.

I asked the nurse in the nurse station where a Steve Randle was, and she told me that he was with a doctor right now getting stitches for his face. I walked back to where Two-Bit and Dally were sitting and plopped down in the empty seat between them. I realized that I had forgotten to thank the nurse, but I honestly didn't care. Johnny was back there somewhere. He was probably in pain and confused, but more likely scared. He had seemed out-of-it while he was lying on the ground. I wondered if they had put him to sleep or something. Steve was back there too. He had probably explained everything and that was why nobody had asked us any questions. Soda was probably at a party right now. Pony and Darry were most likely asleep like all other normal people. Soda would freak out when he saw that I wasn't in my room. I should call. Tell them where I am. I'd be in big trouble otherwise, but I didn't want to call. I wanted to lie down and sleep for months. I'll get someone to call for me. Later. After I sleep. I curled up against Dally who instantly stiffened. I set my feet on Two-Bit, who was already asleep. Dally relaxed and adjusted himself so that my head was comfortably rested on his thigh. I began drifting off and Dally patted my head.

"Sleep," he whispered. I nodded.

"Call Darry," I requested sleepily.

"Hell no," he answered, "I'm not gonna die tonight."

I snickered, "Wake up Two-Bit then."

"You just go to sleep. We'll let Darry, or Soda, or someone know you're okay."

"Mm-hmm," I mumbled before sleep enveloped me in its warm and inviting embrace. I didn't dream. For once, nightmares didn't terrify me or cause me to wake up screaming. I fell asleep in the arms of the toughest greaser who had promised to look after me and let my family know I was all right. It seemed no strange coincidence that this night was not broken by screams of anguish and fear. Dally was here. It was almost ironic that the greasiest greaser who had been in and out of jail too many times to count kept away my nightmares, but he did. I wasn't in love with Dally, I was floating above the ocean of loves as I had always been, but my ship had struck and iceberg, and the U.S.S. Atlana was sinking. Faster than I would have liked.

"Where is she? What happened? Who-oh my God," Someone was yelling. Loudly. Who was yelling? Why were they yelling? Where was I? Who was I with? These were my thoughts as I lay half-asleep, enveloped in warmth. I wasn't totally awake, until everything came flooding back. Johnny, broken, in the hospital, his leg, Steve, stitches, everything.

"Darry, stop yelling. Why are you yelling?" Soda, I think. He sounded irritated, a rare occurrence for Soda. It must be early.

"Atlana Reynolds. What are you doing?" Darry was in father mode. I slowly and unwillingly opened my eyes. All I saw was black. I touched it, it was a t-shirt. Dally's t-shirt. I tried to sit up, but was constricted. Constricted by strong arms. Dally's arms. They were wrapped around my torso, pulling me against his chest. I tried to pull away but they only tightened. He must still be asleep, or he has a death wish. "Dally," I stated, "Dally, wake up," I tried to speak, but not sure it was coherent. "Dally-" I was cut off by Darry.

"What's going on Lana?" He insisted.

"Help," I requested quietly, but that was all the incentive he needed. He instantly pulled me out of Dally's grasp. I stumbled a bit before leaning on Soda for support. Dally woke up with a start at my sudden movement. He calmed down and a confused look got stuck on his face.

"Now," Darry began, "anyone care to explain what's going on?" he asked to no one in particular before turning to me. "Why weren't you in your room?" he asked, his eyes blazing with anger and shimmering with relief.

"Steve, he knocked on my window. He said he needed help. It was Johnny. He got beat up by Socs. He's really bad. We took him here. Steve got stitches but they took Johnny away. I fell asleep. I'm sorry," I was still dazed so my explanation was short and confused. Tears started to form when I talked about Johnny, and I was too tired to fight them. I turned into Soda's shoulder and cried, not like I had with Dally, but enough to freak everybody out. Soda wrapped his arms around me, unsure.

"I'm so, so sorry," I whispered.

"Shh, shh. It's fine. Darry's not really mad. He's just relieved," he whispered back. Soda had always known me best. Being the same age (pretty much) did that to people. I often went into his room to talk. After a while Mrs. Curtis said we couldn't anymore because we weren't little kids anymore, but I went anyway. I didn't like Soda like that, even though he was extremely hot. He was like my brother, and he would never try to pull anything.

"Where are Steve and Johnny?" I asked when I had calmed down.

"Johnny's in a room and I think Steve's in there with him," Soda answered in my ear.

"Let's go," I said pulling away to walk to the nurse's station. Soda let go and followed, but when the nurse said that Johnny could only have two visitors at a time, he sent me on my way. I walked down the long hallway to room 39. It was a small hospital because we lived in such a small town, but it was still weird that Johnny was in room 39. It was his favorite number.

I pushed the door open gingerly and poked my head in the rom. Steve was asleep in his chair and Johnny was trying not to laugh at his obnoxious snoring.

"Hey Johnny. How are you feeling?" I asked quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping Steve.

"As good as can be expected," he answered solemnly.

I nodded. I walked over to the other chair in the room and pulled it up to his bed. "When do they think you'll get out?"

"As soon as my leg heals."

"Well how long do they think that'll take?" I asked getting frustrated. I hate cryptic answers, Johnny knows that.

"A week or two, maybe."

I nodded again. We sat in silence, listening to Steve snore.

"Thank you," he said after a while.

"For what?"

"For helping me."

"It was-"

"Don't say 'nothing'," he interjected, "the doctor said that if you hadn't helped, I would have been a lot worse off."

"You're already pretty bad off Johnny. I don't think you could get much worse."

"They said I cudda lost my leg," his eyes were boring into mine now. They weren't cold like Dally's were, but warm, like melted chocolate. His expression wasn't mad or angry, or even smart-allecky like some of the other guys would have been. He was frightened, but anyone would be. Johnny was delicate. He was constantly on edge, always on the brink of disaster, but he held on. He held on us, for the gang.