A/N: Apologies for the delayed update. It's been crazy with Christmas shopping and finals and everything. I hope people are still interested in this. As always, read and review!

(Johnny's POV)

Steve and I ended up spending the night at Pony's, me on the couch and Steve in Darry's chair. When I woke up, Steve was in the kitchen, eatin' Cheerios right out of the box. I slipped into the bathroom to put some grease on my hair. It didn't really keep my hair back too good, but it made me look tuff. I looked at myself in the mirror for a minute, wonderin' if I'd ever get used to how I looked with that scar. Dally thinks I will and I might even be proud of it someday, the way Tim is about the scar he got from a tramp smashing a pop bottle on his face. But I ain't like Tim.

"Hey, Johnny!" Steve's voice called as I stepped out of the bathroom. "Come 'ere!"

I stuck my head around the kitchen doorway. Steve was sitting at the table. Darry was up too, putting a couple pieces of bread in the toaster.

"Want a bowl?" Steve asked, one hand still in the Cheerios box.

I shook my head.

"You didn't eat supper last night," Darry reminded me.

I knew that. I just wasn't real hungry. I can't eat too much when it's hot or I get sick.

"I could make ya eggs or somethin'," Darry offered.

"No, thanks," I said. "I think I'm gonna go look for Dally." I needed to talk to him about Glenda.

"Johnny, you gotta eat somethin'," Darry's voice was a little firmer.

"Yeah, you ain't lookin' too good," Steve added through a mouthful of Cheerios.

I didn't think I looked any better or worse than normal when I looked in the mirror.

The bread popped out of the toaster. Darry left one piece plain and put peanut butter on the other. He put the toast together like a sandwich and held it out to me.

"At least take this with you, okay?" he said.

"Okay. Thanks, Darry."

I took it from him and left the house. I walked through the neighborhood, wondering which way to go after that.

A sudden noise from behind me made me stop dead in my tracks. A car engine, sounded like it was movin' pretty slow. Socs drove like that when they were lookin' for Greasers to jump. My heart started pounding something fierce and shivers went down my spine; all I could think of was those guys in that blue Mustang. I glanced over my shoulder, ready to run or pull my switch if I needed to. It wasn't a Mustang or any kind of Socy car at all, just a beat-up station wagon with a man driving and two little kids in the backseat. I let out a shaky breath.

I wish I'd woken Pony up before I left or asked Darry or Soda to come with me. I hate walking by myself anymore. Socs are lot less shy about coming into Greaser territory these days. I have a feeling we're gonna have a war with 'em soon. I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts. I had to concentrate on watching my back and finding Dally.

'If I was Dally, where would I be right now?' I asked myself. 'Asleep' was the best answer I could come up with. Glory, that meant he could be a lot of places. I decided it'd make sense to look in town first; the other places he usually crashes are kinda outta the way.

When I got to town, the first place I checked was the corner of Picket and Sutton; he likes to hang around there and smoke. But no Dally. I walked into the alley behind the drug store. Almost everybody in the gang's found Dally sleeping (or passed out) there at least once. He wasn't there this morning, just some bum. He looked hungry, so I gave him the peanut butter sandwich. Then I checked behind the drug store and the record store too, but I still didn't find Dallas. I thought about going to the police station to ask the fuzz if they'd picked him up for something, but I'm scared to death of cops.

It started to get hot as I headed back out to the main sidewalk. I hoped Dally wasn't at Buck's 'cause that's a lot farther than I'd care to walk. I remembered Dally saying something yesterday about Buck having an ornery new horse that needed to be broke and Buck offering him 20 bucks if Dal could do the job. I didn't feel like trying to hitch a ride all the way to the Slash J, so I turned to go back toward the neighborhood. I could always talk to Dal later.

"Hey, kid!" A voice from across the street got my attention.

I saw Buck Merrill coming out of the liquor store with a couple cases of beer and a paper bag that had whiskey bottles sticking out of the top. Restocking for his next party, I guess. He waved me over. I crossed the street.

"You lookin' for Dally?" Buck asked.

I nodded. Buck spit on the ground.

"Well, hop in the truck. I'll take ya up to 'im."

I hesitated. Buck's pick-up was hardly in any better shape than Two-Bit's car, but it beat walking or hitching. I opened the passenger door; it squeaked real loud and got stuck when I tried to close it again. The cab of the truck reeked of old cigarettes and spilled booze. Buck's not much of a talker and neither am I, so the ride to Slash J was completely quiet, except for the corny country music on the radio.

About half an hour later, we crunched up the gravel driveway to the ranch. Buck parked near the barn and I hopped out.

"Thanks for the lift, man," I said.

Buck looked at me funny. "You can talk?" He sounded real surprised.

"Look, can you tell me where Dal is? It's important," I said.

"He's in the corral out back," Buck replied, still looking at me weird.

I went around the side of the barn and found the corral without much trouble. A big black horse was running around inside the fence, kicking and jumping for all it was worth. Dally was nearby, stretched out under a half dried-up shade tree. He almost didn't look like himself in cowboy boots and a work shirt. He was even wearing a cowboy hat, pulled low over his eyes like Soda used to wear his. Dally was tossing an apple up in the air, then catching it.

"Hey, Johnnycake," he greeted.

"Hey, Dallas," I said. "How are ya?"

Dally shrugged. "I been better."

He caught the apple again, dusted it off on his shirt, and took a bite.

"Ain't that s'posed to be for the horse?" I asked.

Almost as soon as I said that, the horse trotted over. It stood close to the fence and stuck its neck out, dying to get that apple.

"He don't deserve it," Dally said through his mouthful. He showed me the bruises and scrapes on his arms.

"Dal, can I...can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure, kid."

"Well, ya see, Steve's cousin is comin' to town this weekend," I started. "Steve's dad don't want her to stay with him and she can't stay with Darry. And--"

"Whoa, hold on a minute," said Dally. "Steve's got a cousin?"

"Yeah, from Kansas. Anyways, she might end up havin' to rent a room at Buck's if she can't find somewhere else to stay." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I know it's kinda rough there and all, so I was hopin' you might, y'know, look out for her or something."

"Yeah, I can do that," Dally nodded. "What's her name again?"

"Glenda."

"Kinda rings a bell." Dally thought for a second. "She the short little broad that had the hots for me?"

"Yeah."

He grinned. "Think she still does?"

"I dunno," I said.

Dally tossed his apple core into corral and settled back against the tree. "Guess we'll find out."