Hi! I know the update wasn't such a long time ago, but here's one that sha;; last you a while. I just started college classes today, so if my updating is slower, its because of homework. And special thanks to Aero,La belle nuit, Writersblock, and all the reviewers and someone has a special cameo! See if you can find her (:

Disclaimer:Only own Billie...

Chapter 4

The rest of my classes weren't that great. After I left government, was English. It wasn't that great, it was to be expected. The teacher fussed at me for my clothing, and at lunch I sat with no one. Since Soda was technically my only friend, and he didn't go to school, I was basically alone.

When gym came, that worried me. I didn't like gym, and my situation made it worse. Not to mention, Sodapop's little brother was in my class, and I think he hates me. I got lucky and since it was my first day, I didn't have to dress out. Instead, my teacher said the principle wanted to see me.

Fun. My first day of school and already I'm in trouble. I shifted the bag on my shoulder and took the walk back to the office. The secretary just nodded her head when I said who I was, and I went back to the principal's office.

"Clark?"

I nodded.

"Very well. I see you have an," he searched for words. "interesting? Yes, interesting choice of wardrobe. Now, you're not in trouble. Your mother called me earlier today, and tried her best to explain a situation like this. It's something I'm new too, so please bear with me."

I just nodded, biting on my lip.

"I understand –from what I have been told- that you believe you are a female, is that correct?"

"Yes sir." I nodded.

"Well, I'd like to inform you that we do have a dress code at Will Rogers High. Men wear pants, and women wear skirts or dresses. Teachers included. Now, teachers have a right to write you up if you disobey the dress code, William."

"Billie," I said. "My name is Billie."

"Alright, Billie then. Even if you think you are female, you still have to abide by the male dress code. Physically, you are a male, and you will dress like one. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded, quietly. I didn't want to have to be stuck wearing pants. I didn't hate them; they just showed the bulge I wish they didn't show.

"I have told your teachers to call you Billie, and they will do so. As for gym," he replied, giving me a look. "-yes, you still have to take gym-" He tossed me some keys. "You can use the faculty's bathroom by the gym to change for gym class. Only I and the night janitor have the keys, so you will be fine." He handed me a note to hand to the teacher. "Your teacher is usually very understanding when it comes to medical conditions."

I just nodded along with what he was saying. There was no use arguing, and there wasn't much to argue about. I didn't have a medical condition, but if that is what it took to let me change alone, I was going to take it.

The principle sent me back to my next and final class of the day, which was Chemistry. I was not great at science, and so far, my teacher didn't seem to care about anything except the class copying the notes off the blackboard.

The girl across the classroom kept staring at me for some strange reason, and eventually threw a wad of paper at me when the teacher wasn't looking. I glared over at her, and then focused my attention back to my notes.

Another paper hit me, and I tried to ignore it, but it wasn't working. I heard the girl whisper something to her friend or something, and then threw another paper wad at me. I sighed, and threw one back at her as she made a face.

I bit on my lip, hissing. "What's your problem?"

She just grinned and shrugged. "Nothing," she whispered. "I'm bored."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, can you please stop? "

The teacher caught the both of us, and cleared his throat. "Detention, both of you, after school."

I let out a big sigh. I can't say I've never had detention before, because I have. I always got stuck with the teachers who were picky on the little subjects, like dress codes, or language, or stuff that shouldn't really matter, but does.

With my mom working her new job now, she told me that she wouldn't be home until about seven each night on Monday through Thursdays, so I was stuck alone heating up casseroles for dinner. So detention would probably waste more time, and give me something to do, other than watching reruns on television, or rereading some book.

When the final bell of the day rang, the class hurried out of the classroom as the teacher scribbled something on two yellow pieces of paper handing one to each of us. He told us to go up the stairs to room 201 for detention.

The other girl just rolled her eyes and walked off, ignoring his every word. I, on the other hand, did as I was told and went up to the second floor, and into the room where detention was being held. I handed the teacher the slip of paper and took a seat in the middle of a row, next to a boy with rust colored hair.

I pulled out the book I was reading, trying to ignore the chattering from the boy and the girl across from him. The same girl that got me put here in the first place.

"Psst, Bitty! Bitty," She whispered. "Hey Bitty, you got those math answers for me?" She asked. I tried to ignore what I was hearing, but it was hard seeing as the boy was next to me.

"Sure do." He grinned. "How much are ya gonna pay me?" He asked her with a wink. The girl smirked, and I did not want to see them going at it right here.

"Hows about I repay you by not telling what happened at Buck's last night?"

"You run a tough bargain, baby." The girl just smirked again, and the boy must've known what she was up to, and gave in, sliding her some math answers. "Fair deal."

I went back to my book, but I couldn't read. I pulled out my sketch pad instead, preparing to draw something I saw out the window. Drawing was something I loved to do. I could draw places and animals so realistically, but ask me to draw a person, well, unless it was a cartoon style, I couldn't do it.

Drawing and painting were the only artistic skills I had. I could paint the animals I drew, but other than drawing and painting, I was terrible at art. Once, when I had to make a craft for Mother's Day in school, it came out so terrible, I didn't know what it was. Neither did anyone else, except Mom. But then, mothers supposedly know what everything is that their child is making.

Peter is terrible at art. Once, he tried to draw a family portrait, and we all ended up looking the same. Even Mom looked like a boy in a triangle shaped body. He was lucky he got Dad's athletic genes, which I sort of got.

I had little athletic ability. I had to do little league as a child, as most little boys did. It was my dad's idea. I wasn't half bad at it; I hit one or two home runs, and I could pitch okay. I also swam in the summer at some neighborhood pool, since Mom said it was a good way to get out of the house. When we quit that community pool to go to another, Mom signed me up for a swim team.

I didn't love it, even if I was good at it. Mom said it was the perfect sport for me, since it didn't require much socializing, but I was glad to quit. Now, I just focus on art and theater. I liked painting the sets at my old school, but I wasn't so sure for here.

The boy across from me looked at my paper. "What'cha drawin'?"

I shrugged, and went back to shade the bird. "A bird." I bent my head over the paper, so he couldn't see what I was doing. But that didn't stop him from talking to me.

"So how'd a girl like you get detention?"

I shrugged again. "Being bad, I guess. I don't know."

"No shit," he muttered. "'Cause we're all so damn innocent."

"Can you just leave me alone now please?" I asked. "I'd like to finish this drawing."

"I could," he replied with a grin. "Or you can tell me your name." He winked at me, and I felt myself go red.

I bit on my lip, deciding if I should tell him my name or not. It seemed like he was hitting on me, but at the same time, he could have not been. "It's Billie," I said. "My name's Billie."

He had an amused look on his face. "Ain't that a boy name?" I shrugged my shoulders as he continued to talk. "I ain't ever knew of a chick named Billie. I knew this guy once named Billy. You ain't a guy, are ya?" He asked.

I shrugged again, going red. "I don't, I mean, I guess not?"

He laughed. "You sure? Want me to help you find out?"

"No thank you," I replied politely. "I'm not interested."

He found this remark more amusing than my name. "You know, they got places for you 'not interested' types." It took me a minute for what he was saying to register what he was saying.

"I like boys," I whispered quietly like it was a bad thing. I guess in a way it was. "I just…" I didn't know how to answer, my eyes darting around the room for an answer. "I want to wait until I'm married."

He seemed taken aback at my answer, and I was beginning to get how some of the guys were in Tulsa. I quickly changed the subject back to what we were talking about before he started in on other stuff I didn't like talking about. "Like I said, I've already got a boy I'm interested in, and it ain't you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," I said. "You probably don't know him. His name is Sodapop and-"

"Sodapop?" He asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah, I didn't believe him when he said his name either. But it is; he swears it is."

The boy chuckled. "I know it is," he told me, and he rolled his eyes. I felt real awful right then, the boy continued. "He's a pretty good buddy of mine..."

I frowned. That was real perfect of me, talking about someone's friend like that. "Oh..." I didn't know what else to say

"There ain't two Sodas in the whole world--much less in Tulsa. Course I know who he is..." He seemed to be talking more to himself than me, but I still didn't say anything.

"Oh," I said again weakly. "He's my, he's my... new neighbor. I mean, I'm the new neighbor…"

"Yeah?" He said, "Guess you'll be seein' lots of me."

I let out a small groan and went back to working on my picture until it was time to leave. When the hour was up, I packed away my things, excited about going to the DX to meet Soda. Only problem was, I didn't know my way to the place.

"See you around, baby!" The boy called after me. I couldn't help but grin a little bit; he had a certain charm about him. He was annoying, but it was in some strange good way, if that makes any sense.

"Yeah, whatever," I replied, stopping in my tracks. I needed to know how to get to the DX from here, and I didn't want to be late. "Hey wait!" I called back to the boy," Do you by any chance know of this place called the DX?"

He turned around and fixed me with a grin. As charming as it was, I wasn't about to let him know I didn't think he was that bad of a guy. "I'm meeting Soda…"

"Of course you are," he muttered. I didn't know what that quite meant, but I'm guessing Soda went on lots of dates.

"So, do you know the way or not?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips. I was beginning to get annoyed of him not giving me the answers I needed, or wanted.

"'Course I know the way. What kinda guy in Tulsa doesn't know where the DX is?" He looked at me standing there, books in hand, just looking lost and confused. Which I was, to be honest. He muttered something to himself then looked at me and chuckled, "It's 'bout time I pay ole Sodapop a visit anyways. Hop in Billie goat, an' I'll give ya a ride." He gave the horn a honk, causing me to get in the disgusting looking car.

I got in hesitantly. There was food all over the place, along with other objects I've never seen in a car. "You ever clean this place?" I asked him as he shook his head.

"Nah, it ain't that dirty. Shoot, it's cleaner than my room." I made a mental note not to pay a visit to his room.

"You sure you don't want to clean this place? I mean, what do ya need a plate for?"

He chuckled, "what are ya, the clean police? 'Sides, y'never know when you might need some of this stuff." He took notice of me trying to sit as far away from the back of the seat as possible. I would have tried to sit in the air instead of on the seat if there was a way I could. "Shoot Billie, sittin' won't kill ya."

"But that potato chip might," I stated, pointing at a yellow-orange object with black things under it.

He looked at what I was pointing at. "Chipy? Nah, he ain't gonna hurt no one, 'Specially a chick."

I looked at him strangely. He named the thing? I didn't even want to know and decided to turn on his radio. He didn't seem to mind until I skipped right over Elvis and straight to the Beach Boys. He raised an eyebrow at me, and turned the dial back to the station playing Elvis.

He cocked an eyebrow. "The Beach Boys?" He snickered. He shook his head and swatted my hands away from the radio before flipping it back to an Elvis song I've heard to many times.

"You don't like it?" I asked, and broke my own rule of not touching his seat. I leaned back and gave a pout. "Elvis is rank," I stated.

"You're rank," he shot back, but I could tell it was good-natured. I just shook my head.

"Nah, Elvis is. He ain't gonna be the king no more."

"Elvis will always be the king," he said, putting in his last thought. He left it at that and started singing to an Elvis song.

I plugged my ears as he gripped the steering wheel and quickly switched it to The Beach Boys before he could notice. He took notice of what I did and didn't even bother changing the station. He sang as off-key as he could and I could tell he was butchering the song. Whether it was on purpose or not, I couldn't tell.

It became a game, him butchering every song I played on the radio. It was fun, too. I'd play whatever was on the radio and he'd sing it, regardless of knowing the real words or not. If he didn't know the words, he'd make them up. It was a funny sight, too. We played the game until he got bored or tired of what we were doing and stopped.

I took notice then of how bad of a driver he was. Well, he wasn't badper say, but he wasn't all that good either. He was speeding, and I was beginning to feel a little queasy. Then again, I think I saw "Chipy" move.

"You sure you don't want to slow down?" I asked.

"And let them slow pokes beat me?" He laughed,"Going fast won't kill ya, Billie goat. It's quicker than waiting for all those signs."

"Can you at least put your seat belt on?" I asked him. He just laughed again, which I assumed he did a lot of.

"What for? You a safety nut or something?"

I shook my head. "I just don't wanna die, that's all."

"You ain't gonna die, Bill. I ain't never been in a car crash yet. Just some minor accidents caused by those damn Socs."

I was so confused. What the hell is a Soc? I think he just insulted me. "Pardon me?" I asked, "What did you just call me?"

He chuckled. "Soc. Short for Social. You know them real rich kids with the fancy cars an' stuff?" I nodded. "That's them."

"Oh."

"Hey," he said to me. "Hand me that bottle right there." I looked at what he was pointing to. It was a bottle of pomade. I handed him the bottle of the gross feeling substance, wrinkling my nose is disgust.

"Ew," I said. "That stuff is gross. Anyways, if they're Socs, then what are we?"

"We," He said, pausing like it was a big deal,"are exactly what this stuff is."

"Pomade?" I could see it now: a bunch of us walking around in leather jackets with the word Pomaders on the back.

He shook his head. "No, the stuff it's made out of. Grease, we're greasers."

I wrinkled my nose again. I hoped that term was only given to the boys. "It's just a boy thing, right?"

He saw my apprehension towards the term and grinned. "You in our neighborhood, right?"

I nodded.

"You're a greaser, then."

"But what if I don't want to be one? What if I just want to be Billie?"

He shrugged. "That's how it is here. East side greasers, west side Socs. They get all the breaks, and we get the negative attention. It's not as bad as it was, but it's just the way things work around here."

I sighed. So I wasn't going to be popular. Even though I knew I wasn't going to be, the fact that I already had a label before anyone even knew me bothered me. Then again, I probably also got labeled as a freak, also.

I sighed. "Well, thanks for telling me…Um, what's your name? Sorry, I don't remember."

"Two-Bit," he said. "My name's Two-Bit."

I stared blankly at him. "That's your real name?" I asked curiously as he shook his head.

"No, but ain't no one call me Keith. Not even my mom."

"Oh," I replied as he pulled into the gas station, looking around."What'd you do for kicks around here?" I asked him, seeing a gleam in his eyes.

My stomach turned at the look he gave me and I wasn't so sure I wanted to know what they did. "Besides driving like a maniac and being obnoxious." I folded my arms across my chest.

"Hang around long enough, baby, and you'll learn exactly what we do."

"And sex," I added.

"Who says anything about sex?" he gave me a funny look. "I'm Christian," he said. "No sex till marriage." I felt like he was mocking me and tensed up.

"You mocking my beliefs?"

"Nope," he replied with a grin, shaking his head. "I was baptized an' everythin'."

"Oh," I said weakly and added with little confidence, "Well, you ain't gonna get this." I saw his eyes move down towards my chest and I quickly hugged a book. He gave me a look.

"Right, 'cause you've got so much to offer, Billie goat." I just rolled my eyes at his reply.

We got out, and went inside as Two-Bit started to ring the service bell rapidly. "Sodapop!" Two-Bit called out to the back of the room,"hey Soda, your girlfriend's here!"

I blushed. "We aren't dating," I hissed.

"Right," he muttered sarcastically, "and I'm the king of France."

I bit on my lip as he rang the bell again. "Soda! Soda, can I get some service out here?!" I let out a giggle as a guy came out, but it wasn't Soda. His hair was too dark and swirly to be Soda.

"Christ, Two-Bit. Don't break the thing, will ya? What d'ya need Soda for anyways? Kid fall in a well or somethin'?"

I heard a rustle in the back, and a voice. I recognized it as Soda's and felt my stomach flip-flop when he walked out. I couldn't see Soda because Two-Bit was in my way. I frowned and tried to push him, but he was too heavy. "Two-Bit!" I hissed at him, "Move your fat butt away! I can't see!"

He turned around. "Fat? I ain't fat," he repeated.

"Well then why do ya got a sandwich in your glove compartment? Right next to a bunch of unused condoms that you don't need because you said you want to stay a virgin," I said louder. His face turned a shade of red and he clamped a hand over my mouth, pulling me into his side as he grinned innocently at Soda. "Excuse her," he said politely, "she was dropped on her head as a baby. Explains so much." The guys snickered as I pushed away from him.

"No! You told me you wanted to wait! Remember?" He rubbed his face and looked at Soda. "You believe half the crap comin' outta her mouth?" He asked, and Soda shrugged, smirking. I looked at Soda and immediately went to smooth down my hair.

"Hi," I said softly.

"Hey," he replied. "Just give me a minute, then we can go. Jus' gotta do some last minute things before I go." He wiped off the counter space and then tossed the rag over at the other guy. "Ready Billie?" He asked me and I slowly nodded.

"Yes," I said softly. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Good," was all he said, walking out the door. I followed him and out the door and watched him think about putting his arm around me. He must have remembered the oil on his hands, because he didn't put his arm around me.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've gotta clean up first. You can come and wait in my house if you want?" At first I thought he meant he had to clean his room or something, until he showed me his hands again.

I just nodded as he led me into his house. He kicked off his shoes, literally, and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

His house looked really messy and you could tell there were boys living there, and that not many females entered the house. The first thing I noticed was the old couch, with lumps and sinks all in it. It looked worn and used. Quite the opposite of the couch at my grandma's house, which she stated was a "just for show couch." I didn't sit down in the couch, feeling like I didn't belong on a couch like that. It was probably used for friends and relatives, and I wasn't either. I was just the new neighbor that Soda wanted to get to know.

My eyes went in the direction of a piano, and I grinned a little. It meant that someone in the house had a taste for music, whether it was a good taste, or bad taste, I couldn't tell. There were pictures on top of the piano, mostly all of them family. The one that caught my eye was not one of all their friends, but just a simple one that their mother probably took. It was of all three of the brothers smiling and laughing, and looking young. It was probably taken ages ago, and I doubt they didn't know what kind of future they would have in that picture.

But my favorite picture I saw up there was of Soda, of course, and he looked pretty young. Maybe thirteen or so, and he looked imperfect. He looked so different than the others that I could hardly tell it was him. He wasn't smiling, and I really don't blame him. He looked like crap. His hair wasn't as long as it is now, and he had zits on his face. I knew he was going into puberty in that picture, and that makes me laugh the most. His voice was probably squeaky and he probably wished that the photographer would burn in hell for seeing him like that.

I heard a door slam and jumped back, but sighed as it was just Soda's little brother. He didn't look happy to see me there, and to be honest, it felt weird having him here. From the pictures, he looked so happy and sweet like his older brother, but in person he wasn't. He was bitter, and not to mention half blond.

"What're you doing here?" He asked me harshly, "Don't you have your own house to go to?"

I bit on my lip and spoke softly,"I'm waiting for Sodapop. He said wait here while he takes a shower."

"Oh," was all he said.

The door slammed again and in walked the eldest of the brothers, Darry. "Pony, Soda?" He called out, "Any of you make dinner yet?" He took noticed of me and looked a bit uncomfortable. "Oh, hello, Billie. Did your mom lock you out?"

I shook my head. "I'm just waiting for Sodapop, sir."

He chuckled. "It's just Darry, Billie. You don't need to call me sir."

I just nodded my head as Soda got out of the shower. I blushed a little bit and stood to the side. I wasn't family, and I wasn't a close friend. I heard a noise from Soda's room and a thump. He came out a minute after all dressed and ready to go.

"Ready Billie?"

I nodded my head slowly, as he reached out his hand to grab mine. I held onto his hand as we walked out the door and down the street towards the Dingo. He opened the door when we got there, and led me to our booth. The waitress just smiled her fake smile as she placed the menus in front of us and walked away.

We sat in silence until Soda broke it with a question. "What would you like to drink?" He asked me with his usual grin.

I shrugged looking at the menu. "A coke, I guess?"

"Sure," he said with a smile and grinned at me. We didn't talk much until he broke it with a question I knew was coming.

"How do you like Tulsa?"

The waitress brought me my drink. "It's fine." I slurped on my coke before I continued. "It's not Chicago, but it's not bad, I guess. I could go without the Soc and Greaser thing…"

"So you know?" Soda asked, looking a little concerned.

I just nodded. "Yeah, Two-Bit told me."

Soda had an amused grin on his face. "You met Two-Bit? How was that?"

I shrugged again. "Okay, I guess. He's a little strange…" I was afraid of offending Soda talking about Two-Bit like this. "And a tad annoying…"

"Yeah, he can be that way. But he's still a buddy of mine. I'd do the same for him like I would for Steve. But I don't think a girl like you would understand that..." He went on talking about something. "I mean, I'm sure you probably wouldn't go to war just because your friend would."

I bit on my lip. "You'd go to war if Steve does?"

He looked a bit unsure, like I was testing their friendship or something. "Well, maybe. Steve did say if I got drafted he'd enlist, and vice versa. I mean, there are just some things you have to do, but I don't think-"

"A girl like me would understand?" I asked him as he nodded. "I understand Soda, believe me. I can't say I'd ever enlist for someone, since girls don't get drafted an' such. But I'd pretty much do the same for my best friend, Julie. Unlike my brother who just enlisted for the hell of it."

Soda raised an eyebrow. "Your brother's in Nam?"

I nodded. "He enlisted as soon as he graduated and nothing stopped him. Not even his girlfriend he proposed to. Man, he's such an idiot—but I think he's actually comin' home soon. I think he said possibly by summertime."

"You miss him?" Soda asked.

"I guess, I don't know. He's my brother, but I dunno. It is what it is" I replied, giving a big shrug and sigh.

Soda saw that I was uncomfortable with the topic and changed it. "So, what do you like to do for fun, Billie?"

"Um," I looked around the room before I answered weakly, "I like to read, and go to the movies. And draw, I love to draw. Back in Chicago I used to go to a bunch of local band's concerts, too."

"You sound like you'd get along well with my little brother. He likes all that stuff."

I shifted uncomfortable in my seat. "Um, I don't think he really likes me."

"He's just shy, Billie. He's been through a lot this past year. Hell warm up to ya."

"Are-are you sure?"

"Yeah, what's not to love about you? You're a nice girl, and you seem to get boys more than most girls. It's like you are a boy, but you're not."

I blushed and giggled. "Th-thanks?"

"You're welcome," he said as we finished dinner. It was getting late, and he ended up walking me home. We were right near my house as he smiled. "I had a nice time, Billie. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

I just nodded again, blushing. I blushed harder as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I felt my world stop when he kissed my cheek, then as he left everything went back to normal. I sighed happily as I unlocked the door going into my house and into my room.

I think I just might like Tulsa.

Review? o.O Update ASAP.