I'm back. I had a totally different chapter written up, but I didn't like it so I kind of changed it all the other day. So this may be a bit rough, but I did want to update relatively soon. I don't own The Outsiders or Anything But Ordinary by Avril Lavigne.

Also, this chapter and the rest of the story goes back in time and takes place before the introduction you read.

Enjoy!


"I'd rather be anything but ordinary"

"Stop, Roger! Give it to me!" Emma whined, sounding pitifully like a toddler. There was just something about her little brother that could make the normally mature girl cry and complain like a child. Now, he had stolen her hairbrush and was taunting her, running around the house with it. He loved to pick on his sister, although she wasn't quite as fond of the practice as he was.

When she finally snatched the brush back, she stomped back to the bathroom and locked the door, ignoring Roger's knocks. He could just wait all he wanted to, she wasn't gonna do him any favors now.

She blocked the noises around her out and stared at her reflection, frowning. Twisting a lock of her chestnut brown hair, she wished she were prettier.

Emma went to Will Rogers High, but she blended right into the scenery. She was middle-class, which meant that no one paid her any attention. The Socs didn't give a flip about her, and the greasers ignored her too. She didn't even care which side she was on; at this point she just wanted friends.

Oh, she had a few people she talked to, but no one that she could call when she was really upset.

And she didn't have anybody that she'd feel comfortable talking to about boys. Not that it was much of a problem, since she'd barely dated.

Emma had only been in Tulsa for two years, which meant that most of the other middle-class students already had their groups of friends.

She always thought it was weird to be in the middle. She watched the Socs, and she saw the greasers too. They were different, but not as much as they liked to think.

Both sides could be real assholes, as far as she was concerned. She didn't want to cross the Socs, but she was scared of the greasers too. She'd had a class or two with Curly Shepard in the past, whose brother was notorious for being one of the toughest gang leaders in Tulsa. Emma had heard some things about him that made her shudder just to think about, and she knew that her stepfather had arrested him many times for all sorts of things. Thankfully, she'd never had the misfortune of meeting him herself.

Then there was Dallas Winston, but he barely ever came to class. As far as Emma was concerned, that boy was a no-good hood who found fun in bothering anyone he could think to. Thank the lord Emma didn't share any classes with him. There was something about his eyes that could make her shake in her boots, and his rough voice had frozen her insides a few times too many. Mostly he left her alone, but whenever he actually was at school, he'd stand around in the hallways with his friends before and after class, and he'd make really crude remarks to the girls. He'd been slapped once, but he just gripped the girl's wrist so hard, his eyes spitting fire, that she wound up crying out in pain.

A couple of times he'd even catcalled to Emma, and it scared the daylights out of her. Her cheeks would burn at the dirty things he would say, and she'd just clutch her books tighter to her chest and hurry down the hall, as far away from him and his roguish laughter as she could get.

Most of the other greasers she didn't mind as much, although she was sure they could be pretty rough when they wanted to. Some of them she even liked.

There was one called Two-Bit in her Algebra II class and he was always cracking jokes and laughing like crazy, and Emma couldn't help but smile in amusement. The Socs in that class didn't appreciate his sense of humor so much though, and the teacher would always reprimand him to be quiet, but Emma could tell that she was hiding a smile too.

The Socs were all right. They scared her too, but in a different way. The greasers she was afraid of because they were so rough and crass, but the Socs intimidated her because of all their mind games. She couldn't count the times that she had heard them ruthlessly trashing their so-called friends behind their backs, and it scared her to think that they could be that mean about her too.

Emma sighed again and finally left the bathroom, convinced she couldn't do anything to make herself more noticeable. Her stepfather had left already, for work no doubt, and her mom was sitting at the table reading the paper.

She would have stayed for breakfast, but she was already late for class.

So giving her mom a tight hug, she grabbed her bag and headed out the front door, starting the walk to school.

She had first period math, and Two-Bit shared that class with her. He was probably the only person who ever paid her any mind, even if it was just because he acted that way to everyone. He was one of those people that just had to talk to everyone, and he had the most scatter-brained mind Emma'd ever seen.

He proved her right, too. Not two minutes after she slipped into class, Two-Bit slid over to her desk and plopped into the one beside Emma's. "What's your last name mean?" He asked, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Huh?" Emma asked, blinking.

"Mansfield. It don't make no sense. Man's field. Why is the field man's?"

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and Emma tried to cock one of her own but failed miserably. Finally, she simply sighed. "What does Mathews mean?"

This seemed to stump the Greaser, and he sank back in his chair, pondering that. "I reckon it means—"

"Move it, Grease, you're in my chair," Bob Sheldon barked out, glaring at Two-Bit like he was the scum of the Earth. Emma would've told the Soc to shove it, but she didn't have the courage to. She wasn't a Soc or a greaser, and she didn't want to get herself on the South side's enemy list when she knew the greasers wouldn't give a flip about her even if she did.

So she clamped her mouth shut and let Two-Bit fight his own battles, which he was fully prepared to do. Puffing up his chest, he swung his feet up onto the desk next to Bob's, crossing them over each other and clasping his hands behind his neck as if he were reclining. "Well, now, you're just gonna have to say the magic word."

"Beat it."

Two-Bit frowned as if he was contemplating this, and then he shook his head slowly, "Naw, that ain't it."

Bob's eyes narrowed and Two-Bit started chattering as if he and Bob were good friends. "I was just havin' a little chat with Emma here, there ain't no need to get all worked up, Bobby boy."

"Why don't you stick to your own kind and leave her alone, huh? Now move."

For a second, Emma snapped her eyes up to Bob's face, thinking that he was sticking up for her. Maybe he had noticed her, or maybe he and his friends would let her eat lunch with them. She was tired of eating alone.

But the boy was merely talking to upset Two-Bit, so she dropped her eyes back to her desk as the teacher walked in.

"Mathews, get to your seat," she barked, taking her spot at the front of the classroom.

"Please?" Two-Bit called out, a goofy smile on his face as he waited for the "magic word."

"Detention."

"That'll do," Two-Bit quipped, hopping up and striding to his seat in the corner. He sat down, giving Emma a casual wink from across the classroom. He was simply doing it because he was Two-Bit, and it didn't mean anything, but nonetheless, Emma looked away with a blush.

When class let out a long forty-five minutes later, Emma gathered her books and pushed her hair from her eyes with a sigh. Another day stretched out before her, and she was coming to hate the monotony. Being middle class might mean that you have no enemies, but it means you don't have any friends either.

Her next hour was freshmen English with Mr. Syme. When she'd moved to Tulsa two years back, Emma had been tested and put in English courses two years lower than she should be in, according to Will Rogers High. Emma's old school didn't teach much English, they focused on math and science, so nothing made sense to her.

Every day was frustrating, so the thought of sitting in a cramped classroom where the air cackles with tension between the two halves of the room, the Socs and the greasers, was not a welcome one. It had to be done though; her parents would kill her if she missed a class she was already doing so badly in, so she gritted her teeth and stood, hoping to just get through the class without incident.

After class, Emma packed up her stuff as quickly as she could, trying to get out of that dreadful room, even if she didn't have anywhere to go for lunch, when Mr. Syme's voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks. "Miss Mansfield, would you please stay after?"

Wincing, she turned back around to face him, setting her things down on an empty desk. She stayed over by the door, waiting, and he finally chuckled a little. "You can come a little closer, I don't bite."

She gave a weak smile and walked over to his desk, where he took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "Miss Mansfield, I'm afraid you're struggling in this class, and if you can't raise your grade, you may not pass."

Gulping nervously, Emma nodded. She hadn't known things had gotten that bad.

"I suggest you find yourself a tutor."

"Like who?"

Mr. Syme scrunched his eyebrows up thoughtfully, "Well, Ponyboy Curtis is doing very well in my class, and I think he'd be willing to help you."

Emma nearly snorted out loud when she heard the name. Ponyboy? What on Earth is a Ponyboy? Nonetheless, Mr. Syme was serious, and if she brought home an F in freshman English… well, let's just say her parents would not be impressed.

"All right."

"Good. I have Ponyboy next hour, so I'll ask him if it's all right. Come by the room after school lets out and you can meet him and arrange to start tutoring."

Mr. Syme beamed at her, as if she were about to try to climb Mount Everest, and she just shrugged and walked out. She wasn't exactly looking forward to spending her afternoons learning English, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do. Her parents wouldn't mind shelling out a few bucks to pay this kid if it would help her grades either.

Emma spent lunch in the courtyard, sitting on the grass against the side of the building. She tried to convince herself that it was relaxing, being there alone with her thoughts and feeling the light breeze against her face, but her heart knew that she would have traded anything to be sitting with even just one other person, goofing around.

As the school day went on, she could feel her stomach sinking. Emma was certainly not looking forward to being tutored.

When the final bell rang, she trudged slowly back to Mr. Syme's classroom, trying her best to force a cheery mask to her face. She didn't want this horse kid to think that he was wasting his time, although he probably was. It really was nice of him to help her, so the least she could do was smile.

Which was what she did when Emma stepped into her English class. Mr. Syme was talking amicably with an auburn-haired greaser. For a second, it didn't register that he was Ponyboy. It just seemed weird to her that a greaser would be so good at English. Most of them didn't seem to be into school and studying.

"Ah, Emma, come meet Ponyboy Curtis," Mr. Syme boomed across the room when he saw her, and she stepped tentatively forward with a cautious smile on her face. She held out her hand for Pony to shake, which he did after eyeing it a little suspiciously for a second.

"Hello. I want to thank you for helping me," she said politely, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"S'okay," he mumbled, looking down at his shoes, a pink blush creeping up his neck.

After a second, when she realized he wasn't going to talk, she spoke, taking control. "We can head over to my house, if you'd like, and study there. That way I can get the money to pay you."

He nodded and pushed himself up from the desk, grabbing his books. Emma turned and led him out of the school and down the street to her house. It had never seemed far before, but walking fifteen minutes with a dead-silent greaser made it feel like it was miles away.

She tried to start a conversation sometimes, but he'd just shrug or answer in one-word replies. She hoped that he'd open up a little when they started studying, or else she had a feeling he wouldn't be much help. How could he be so good at English if he didn't talk?

"Here it is," she said needlessly, just for the sake of breaking the silence. Emma bounded up the steps and pulled open her door, gesturing Ponyboy in after her. Calling over her shoulder for him to follow her, she headed to the kitchen where she could hear her mother.

She hopped up onto the counter and grabbed a freshly made chocolate chip cookie out of the jar, offering one to Ponyboy, before introducing her tutor.

"Mom, this is Ponyboy Curtis. He's offered to tutor me in English."

Her mom wiped her hands on a dishrag and turned to face the boy with a cheery smile. "Well isn't that nice of you, Ponyboy. We sure appreciate it. Emma just hates English, but maybe you can get her to change her mind."

Mrs. Mansfield waited, smiling, for the kid to say anything, but he just nodded. She didn't show her surprise though, and instead charged on with a new question. "Ponyboy, huh? Is that a nickname?"

"No ma'am," he mumbled.

Now Mrs. Mansfield did glance at her daughter, eyebrows raised a little, but Emma only shrugged and hopped off the counter. "We'll be in my room, Mom."

Ponyboy followed Emma down the hall and into a very pink room. There were frilly curtains on the window that he eyed warily, and a few porcelain dolls lined up on a shelf. For a single second, he felt a rush of anger, but it passed quickly. It didn't seem fair to him that this girl had everything so nice and he and his brothers had to scrape by just to live.

"So where should we start?" Emma asked, and Pony turned to see that she had settled herself onto the bed, cross-legged with her back against the pillows and a book open in front of her. She pushed her hair back from her face and tied it in a low ponytail with a white ribbon that was lying on her nightstand.

Ponyboy sat on the edge of her bed, a little uncomfortably, and looked through the papers that she gave him. They were all essays that she had written, and all had C's or D's written on the top in red ink. He read through them, and slowly started to loosen up. This was his element, and he knew what he was doing.


Not very much action, I admit, but it sets the wheels in motion and, hey, it's got one of the gang in it. Actually, two of the gang...

Anyway, let me know what you think. Do you think there should be a pairing? If so, with who? Anything specific you'd like to see happen? I can't promise it will, but a lot of times something someone says will spark an entirely new direction for the story.

Thank you for reading!