Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton own The Outsiders. The Byrds own "Turn! Turn! Turn!"

To everything (turn, turn, turn)

There is a season (turn, turn, turn)

And a time to every purpose, under heaven

November 4 – 5, 1965

The sound of the ball whacking the other into the pocket caused a grin to form on Dallas's lips as he walked around the pool table to finish his turn. He bent over the side, aligning his cue, before he shot the final ball into the pocket.

He stood up straight, turning to face his partner. "Pay up."

The Mexican cowboy shook his head, a scowl on his face as reached into his wallet and slammed a twenty onto the table. "You's just lucky, kid."

Dally merely pocketed the money, looking down at the shorter man. "Lucky, huh? How 'bout I beat you in another round and we can see who's just better?"

"Why you—"

"Evenin', fellas," a voice greeted, low but calculating. Dally looked in the direction from where the voice had come to see Tim Shepard leaning against the wall, aimlessly twirling a knife in his hand. He nodded once to Dallas. "Dallas."

Dally returned the nod. "Shepard."

Tim flicked the blade closed, pushing himself off of the wall, his eyes never leaving Dallas's. "You gotta minute to talk?"

The towheaded teen glanced at his Mexican partner, who had backed up a bit, before he handed his cue off to another willing participant. He followed Tim out to the bar, hopping onto a stool and ordering two beers for himself and the dark-haired hood.

"What do ya want?" Dally asked, popping the lid off his beverage, before downing nearly half the bottle, the liquid cooling his throat.

He hadn't seen Tim Shepard since the night of the rumble. The two had briefly spoken when Dally was in the hospital, although the former had only come to rub it in that Dallas wouldn't be able to be in the rumble.

It must have been quite the shock when he'd shown up, running toward the group like a bat outta hell, his yelling starting all the commotion.

But that had been nearly two months ago now.

Tim shrugged. "Ain't seen you around. Is it true, you goin' to school now?"

The blond sneered. "What's it to ya, man?"

"Nothin'," he replied, though Dally didn't miss the cockiness in his tone. "Just never thought you would be the school goin' type is all." He smirked, looking Dallas over. "Becoming a decent member of society while you're at it?"

"Fuck off, Shepard," Dallas snapped. "I ain't there 'cause I wanna be."

Tim raised an eyebrow as he took a swig of his beer. "Yeah? That ain't what I heard." He gestured to him. "I heard you was given a choice."

The younger teen snorted. "Some fuckin' choice. I either take the year at the school, or sit with my head up my ass for five years behind bars. At least I got ears out here. Ain't so easy to keep up with shit when you're on the inside."

"Mm," Tim hummed, not at all concerned. "So, with this school shit you've got goin' on, should I know not to count on you when—"

"Fuck you," Dallas said again, eyes narrowing. "You know I ain't one to back outta nothin'."

The other teen grinned lethally. "Sure. See, what I also heard is that you can't get in no trouble, and that you've become somewhat of a . . . wuss."

The blond's fist made contact with Tim's face before he'd even thought about doing it. His blue eyes were blazing down at him on the floor, but the other hood was quick, too. He jumped up, grabbing Dallas by the shirt before shoving him backward and pouncing.

That was all it took before Buck got involved, stepping between the pair. "I ain't havin' none of this crap from y'all tonight. Y'all gotta beef with each other, take it outside. I don't need no cops showin' up here 'cause of you two clowns. Now git out if yer gonna cause shit."

Buck had been very strict since the incident two months ago.

Ever since the cops had come looking for Dally at his place because of Ponyboy and Johnny coming to him the night of the murder, Buck had been under scrutiny for underage drinking, gambling, bootlegging, and other junk that he didn't want to deal with. He'd put his foot down after that.

Because he was aware of Dallas's situation, he'd agreed to let the teen have a room, however, it wasn't without payment.

Since the beginning of the month, which had only been three days ago, Buck had told Dallas that if he wanted to continue staying for free, along with having use of the T-Bird, he would have to work a few nights a week at the bar.

Dallas had been floored, but he'd eventually agreed. It wasn't too bad, he'd thought; at least he made some money through tips, so it was something.

Still, he didn't fully enjoy the work.

With a glare, Tim shook his head at Dally. "Whatever, man." And then his eyes raised to the clock, a smile touching his lips. "Shouldn't you be in bed about now? Ain't there school tomorrow?"

Buck didn't have time to react before the two went barreling out the door and down the porch, the sound of grunts and swears echoing around them.

The cowboy rolled his eyes and reached for a beer.

"Ponyboy, could you stay behind for a minute?" Mr. Syme asked, directing him over to his desk Friday morning.

The teen glanced at the clock. He didn't want to seem rude or apprehensive, but he wanted to make it to his next class—math—with time to spare so he had a few minutes to study his notes for the quiz.

Mr. Syme continued. "I read your theme and I'm very impressed with it. In fact, Ponyboy, have you ever considered taking any writing courses, perhaps looking into publishing companies?"

Pony rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Gee, Mr. Syme, I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

The older man smiled. "I think you write exceptionally well and feel that this would be something worth looking into, perhaps it could even be beneficial for you. Have your brothers read your theme?"

Pony's ears turned red. "No, not yet. They don't even know I wrote it."

"It might be a good idea to let them, Ponyboy," he replied in a sincere voice. "And I really think you should consider looking into publishing companies. Your story is one that needs to be told, that should be heard. It has real potential, a true purpose."

The younger boy nodded, eyes raising once more to the clock. "I'll think about it. Thank you, Mr. Syme."

"Of course, Ponyboy," he said, regarding him with another grin. "By the way, I've decided to pass you with an A."

His stomach practically flipped at those words. Boy, oh, boy, he thought. Just wait until Sodapop and Darry heard about this. He wondered what they would say, that he'd passed English for the marking period and his teacher was encouraging him to publish his theme.

Glory, that had to be the best news he'd heard in a while.

With a smile of his own, the teen walked out of the classroom and down the hall. Perhaps things were finally starting to look up for him; there was a time for everything, he supposed.

Now if he could just pass his math quiz . . .

Ella browsed through the library during her lunch period, looking for something that sparked her interest. Usually, she would start in on any homework she received from her morning classes so she didn't have to lug around any extra books, but today, she was homework free.

She never ate lunch in the cafeteria, and she didn't talk to enough people to sit with, so she spent her time by herself, which didn't bother her in the least. In fact, Ella enjoyed being by her lonesome; it allowed her to work independently without any interruptions.

"Find anything worthwhile?" a voice asked, causing the girl to jump back. Talk about interruptions . . .

"Craig," Ella greeted, cheeks flushing. "I didn't— You startled me."

The boy merely smiled, leaning an arm against the shelf beside himself, a spark in his brown eyes. He looked down at Ella, enjoying the reaction he'd caused.

"Clearly," he mused, eyeing the book in her hand. "Tolkien, huh? You dig fantasy?"

Ella raised an eyebrow. "Well, I've read The Lord of the Rings, so I figured I would delve into some of his other work." She gestured to Tree and Leaf in her hand. "I heard the library was supposed to be getting the new book after this in here soon."

Craig nodded, furrowing his brows a little. He'd never really talked to Ella Mitchell before, but they were acquainted through grade and the sharing of biology class. Craig had only been in Tulsa two years, but he was quite popular; he was an awfully nice boy, friendly and decent.

His parents had money, and the teen's attire and well-mannered demeanor expressed that. He didn't gloat, though, but he did buddy around with the upper-class group of their peers more than the others. Still, he was always cordial to Ella whenever they spoke.

"Do you mostly spend lunch in the library?" he asked curiously.

Ella shrugged. "I prefer the quiet."

"Oh," he replied, before grinning. "Say, are you doing anything tonight, maybe you'd wanna catch a movie or something . . ."

The girl's eyes broadened in shock. Was Craig Bryant asking her on a date? Sure, she thought he was cute with his chestnut hair and caramel colored eyes, but she'd never thought . . .

She sighed in defeat, thinking about the tutoring session she had planned with Dallas that afternoon, which was followed by work; it would be too late after that to go on a date, since she closed that night.

"Unfortunately, I have pla—"

"What about tomorrow?"

She bit her lip, surprised at his rapid response. "Tomorrow is fine."

Craig grinned again. "Cool deal. I'll pick you up at seven?"

She nodded, giving him the directions to her house, her heart fluttering against her chest. She couldn't believe it . . . She was going on a date with Craig Bryant.

She didn't know whether to be excited, nervous, or both.

Dallas sat in Buck's T-Bird waiting for Ponyboy to meet him so they could head over to the DX to visit Sodapop for lunch. Since Steve was spending his lunch period with Evie, and Two-Bit hadn't bothered to show up to school, it would only be him and Pony.

Dallas sighed, eyes searching the lot for the kid. For some reason, Ponyboy always showed up late to lunch, looking like he was in a sour mood. Dally wasn't the only one who had noticed the odd behavior, either. Two-Bit and Steve had, too.

There was something else that was becoming more distinguished about Ponyboy, too, that was not only beginning to irritate Dallas, but was starting to concern him. It was the kid's bitter disposition which was taking a turn for the worse.

It was obvious that he was getting into fights now. Two-Bit and Steve had followed him around between classes, and Dally had even stayed after for his track meets a few times, but nobody seemed to be hassling the kid then, and they were left wondering who was giving him a rough time.

A thought crossed Dallas's mind—one he wasn't thrilled about, but wondered if it could be true. Was Ponyboy actually the one initiating fights? It wouldn't be too surprising, especially with the way he'd been acting lately. Perhaps it was just a way for him to blow off steam, like each of the guys had done numerous times.

Still, that wasn't like Ponyboy.

The passenger door opened, the kid sliding in beside him, before he slammed the door shut with a blank look on his face.

Dally glanced at him, but didn't comment on the red mark that was beginning to swell under his right eye; it was apparent he'd been in another fight.

He wondered why there had been no repercussions if he was fighting so often inside the building, but he thought about his classes, remembering that he had gym right before lunch.

The towheaded greaser was becoming agitated. "What's goin' on with you?"

Ponyboy's eyes raised as he looked at him from the side. "What do you mean?"

"Cut the act, kid," the older teen bit out. "This ain't a game. What's goin' on in gym?"

At the mention of his gym class, the younger boy's face fell, but it was only for a brief second, a second that Dallas didn't miss. His assumption had been correct, he noted, gritting his teeth.

"Nothin'," was the bland answer, or lie, the kid turning back to stare out the front window.

With a jerk of his hand, the older teen swerved the car into the next lane, ignoring the honking and yelling from behind him, as he pulled off onto the side of the road and cut the engine.

He turned in the seat to face the younger boy, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed. "Don't fuckin' lie to me, kid."

"I ain't!" he practically yelled, ears turning red. "There ain't nothing going on, Dal, so leave it alone."

Dallas snorted. "Yeah, right. Bullshit, man." He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He was glad, though. At least he wouldn't hit the kid in retaliation.

Ponyboy remained silent, ignoring the hard stare beside himself. Dallas was burning a hole straight into his skull, but he was determined to handle his problems on his own. He was sick and tired of having his brothers and friends come to his aid when he could handle himself just fine.

Heck, he was fourteen! It wasn't like he was a little kid.

"There ain't nothing going on," he repeated. "Why can't y'all leave it alone?"

Dallas raised an ashy blond eyebrow. "Who else has been sayin' shit?"

The younger teen sighed. "All of you. Steve, Two-Bit . . . my brothers thinking it. Glory, Dallas, I can take care of myself just fine without y'all breathing down my neck."

"Your brothers are lookin' out for you, kid."

That was when Ponyboy snapped, eyes hardening. "Yeah, well I don't need any lookin' out for. I ain't no little kid that needs protection, so just back off."

Before the blond could react, Ponyboy was already out the door, sprinting away from the car. Dally cursed everything under the sun, eyes blazing with anger as he watched the younger greaser disappear in the distance.

Fuckin' Ponyboy! He cursed himself for letting him get away; last time that happened, he'd ended up running into a burning church with Johnny to save some bratty kids.

Figuring that the kid would probably head to the DX, or back to the school, Dallas drove away, cutting back onto the road and flipping off another driver that swore at him.

"What does E.L.M. stand for?" Dallas asked in vague curiosity, staring at the letters written on Ella's purple notebook.

The girl glanced up from her notes to look at him. "It's my initials."

Dally raised an eyebrow. "What's the L stand for?"

"Louise."

He snorted, but sounded it out. "Ella Louise Mitchell. Sounds like a secretary's name or somethin'."

Ella jerked her head to the side to glare at him. "I happen to like my name. Can't say the same for yours, though."

"That's 'cause it ain't yer name."

In the past two and a half weeks, the pair had started to get along. They weren't friends—far from—but they had a mutual understanding that they respected between themselves. For the most part, they were civil to one another, but they constantly bickered and irritated each other until Dallas would decide that he was finished for the day.

They would usually sit in the car after school for an hour or so on the days that Ella didn't have work, and after getting food, Ella would help Dallas with his assignments. She realized that the hood was actually pretty smart, and not just street savvy. He could do the work, he understood it. He was just a bit behind with certain material.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, what's your middle name?"

The blond merely smirked. "Guess."

"Andrew, John, Glenn, Bruce, Thomas, Vincent, Jacob, William . . ." Ella trailed off, finally throwing her hands up in the air after a while. "I give up!"

Dallas offered her a look of pure entertainment. "Maybe I don't have one."

With that, Ella's jaw dropped slightly. "That was . . . rude."

Despite their sporadic comical moments, Ella still didn't trust him. The more time she spent with him, though, the more she relaxed, but that still didn't stop the previous thoughts of what happened almost two months ago. She knew of his background, and she wasn't fooled by any charm he possessed.

Dally took a sip of the drink he'd gotten at the burger joint down the road. "So, what's a broad—"

"Girl," she corrected, shooting him a look. "Stop referring to me as a broad."

The hood rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so, what's a . . . person of your kind do on the weekends? Play with dolls or somethin'?"

The brown-haired girl snapped her book closed, brows crinkling together in annoyance. "For your information, Winston, I have a date tomorrow night."

She looked so proud that the blond almost laughed. It was a rise taking jabs at her because she got worked up so easily; Dallas enjoyed every second of it.

"Yeah?" he mocked, stretching in the seat. "Who's the lucky gal?"

Ella ground her teeth, face turning a shade at the greaser's insinuation. "That's it. Take me home!"

"Sure thing, sweets. I'm done with this shit anyway."

Glory hallelujah, Dallas might have been able to change and improve academically, but Ella was sure there was nothing that could do either for his personality.

Ponyboy and Darry cleaned up the dishes that night after dinner, listening to Sodapop and Steve argue about who was cheating at their seemingly never-ending card game.

"How was school?" Darry inquired, glancing down at his youngest brother as he carried the dishes over to the sink.

Pony shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

He remembered his theme that he'd written for English then, wondering if he should let Darry look it over that evening. Steve and Soda were going to the drags, and Two-Bit had a date with Kathy, his on and off girlfriend, so it would only be him and Darry home that night.

The younger boy had been thinking about Mr. Syme's words all day, until Dallas had started in on him during their lunch period. He wanted to tell Soda about it, but after his argument with Dallas, he'd decided not to go to the DX, and simply headed back to the school in time for his next class.

Well, he knew Dally's words weren't what set him off, but the hood had been right. Ponyboy didn't want anyone's help, though. He could take care of himself; he didn't need anyone looking out for him.

. . . you get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you.

The words replayed in his mind; he was taking that advice to heart.

". . . and that girl that's tutoring Dallas has got some date with Craig Bryant," Steve laughed. "Can you believe that? Evie was sayin' somethin' about Craig . . ."

All previous thoughts came to a sudden halt. Ella Mitchell was going on a date with Craig Bryant? The words out of Steve's mouth caused the youngest greaser to freeze. Something wasn't right, he was sure of that. He didn't really know Ella all that well, if at all, but why would—

Did the two know each other?

"You feelin' okay, little brother?" Darry suddenly asked, looking at Ponyboy with a curious expression on his face. "You're looking a bit pale."

Pony shook his head, playing it cool. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

The older boy nodded, not pressing the matter. "Maybe you ought to lay down for a while . . ."

As Ponyboy made his way back to his shared room, he wondered about Craig Bryant and Dallas's tutor, Ella Mitchell. The only person who would have any inclination about the girl would be Dallas, and Pony wasn't itching to talk to him any time soon.

Still, the thought of Craig and Ella wasn't sitting right with him. He had a bad feeling about something he wasn't even sure about. What was it? Premonition?

He thought about seeing Craig in gym class, and talking briefly to Ella that day a few weeks ago in the library. Maybe he was just looking too far into it—it might have only been a coincidence that Craig would ask her out.

With a sigh, Pony rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he closed his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of his oncoming headache, all thoughts of his English theme forgotten.

A time for love, a time for hate

A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

Thank you for the lovely reviews! They're always appreciated. I love hearing from you guys. :3

I went back and added in the actual dates for each chapter, if you want to check them out!

—Cat