Okay, I am SO sorry about the wait. I don't have a laptop over summer, so there was no way to write. But now hopefully I'm back! So, moment of truth here, what's going to happen to Reagan, Soda, and Ponyboy? Please tell me what you think! Thanks so much!

I was still kneeling by my brother when they arrested me. My hands were pulled behind my back and locked there. It hurt my back, where my burn had not yet fully healed, but I didn't care. In a way, I welcomed the pain. All I could think was that they were both dead. Johnny, who had been accurately called a hero, and Dally, who would have no one call him a hero, but was in a way nonetheless. He had not been such a bad brother in the grand scheme of things.

I looked at Soda helplessly as I was towed into a cop car. He was trying to get to me, but Darry was holding him back. I was still sobbing, unable to put a hold on my emotions. But Dally had taught me how to do that. His sneering face telling me not to show my emotion broke through my thoughts. I swallowed my tears and glared out the window.

I was thrown in a room. It was obviously better than what Dally got when he went to jail, but it was pretty much just a bare room with a cot on one end an a toilet on the other. I hoped with everything I had left that I charges wouldn't be pressed. There was no way I wanted to spend any amount of time in this place. There was one window, but there were bars, which ruined the appeal for me. I had never really noticed how claustrophobic I was before, having never really been shut in a confined space, but I was sweating within minutes. I took deep breaths, which helped, if only a little. I had not real concept of passing time. No one had come to see me, so I was assuming that I was not allowed visitors.

I spent a whole night in that cell (I watched as the sun fell then rose again) before I had any comfort. Then comfort came from a JD hood like myself. Only, I'm sure be had done whatever it was he'd done. I saw him as I came to lunch that day, in a bog room with about fifty guards and about a hundred kids from all over. I wasn't really sure where I was. I had lost track on it after I got picked up by the fuzz. But I saw him where he was sitting at a table and sat down next to him. He looked up and smiled.

"Hey kid. What the hell are you doing here?" I frowned.

"You don't know?" He shrugged.

"I've been in here for a month."

"Oh. I killed a Soc. Me and Pony got jumped, and I killed one that was gonna beat me up. Johnny's dead too." A stricken look crossed his face.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. How's Pony?" I shrugged.

"I don't know. Dallas is dead as well." Curly blanched.

"Your brother is dead?" I nodded. "Holy shit. How?"

"He got me out of the hospital where eI was supposed the be until I was brought here to fight in a rumble, the he took us to the hospital to see Johnny, Johnny died, and then the fuzz caught up to us. Then Dally-" My voice caught, and Curly waited patiently while I composed myself. He may not have been the smartest, and he was definitely greasy and wasn't a very nice person, but unlike my brother there was a soft side to him.

"Dally pointed this unloaded gun he'd been carrying to make it look like he brought me there against my will, then pointed at a cop. He was shot. It was what he wanted though." And Dallas Winston always got what he wanted. Curly's brow crinkled.

"How did you and Johnny have to go to the hospital?"

"There was a fire at the old church we were hiding out in, Dallas took Johnny with him to see me and Pony and we went to DQ, then when we got back it was on fire. Some kids were there and were stuck inside. Johnny, Pony, and me went to go help them. I caught on fire, and Dallas saved me, but Johnny was hit across the back with a piece of the roof. Broke his back."

"I'm sorry." Curly seemed just about as sincere as he had ever. Sure, ours and Tim's gang had had our own disputes, but none of us really hated the other. We kinda just fought each other for kicks. The only other ones we could fight were the Socs, and we were all smart enough to know that that would be one battle we would never win. Society backed the Socs. Which was one reason that I was terrified to hear the verdict on the upcoming court case. I knew that no one would judge a greaser lightly.

"So, you know your sentence for killing the kid?" Curly asked. I shook my head.

"The trial's in a couple days I think."

"They'll go easy on you." I was skeptical, but didn't have time to reply, as we were all herded back to our "rooms". At least they were private. I found myself being angry. Angry that Johnny was dead, and that Dally was. I had never really dwelled too much on that I was a greaser. It was how I had been brought up, it was how it would always be. But I found myself wishing that there were no class levels. I bet some of the Socs weren't as bad as we were taught they were. I was mad though that society always took their side. We were never given any breaks. It seemed so unfair, that I wanted to scream at it. But that would have been so childish that I scorned myself for even having formed that thought. It was stupid.

I wondered what I would do given the chance. I had always wanted to open a horse barn of my own. I wanted it to be perfect. It would be on a lot of land, and walking down the isle you'd see prizewinning horses. But even if people would come to me, I had no money to even get started. I always dreamed that one day I would be able to own Hawke though. I knew what happened to Soda's horse Mickey Mouse and I was in constant fear that something like that was going to happen to me. I couldn't lose Hawke. I just couldn't. If he went to someone else and had one of his episodes, someone might get hurt. If someone got hurt than he might get elected to be put down. That would just about break my heart. Still, I think it would be better than what happened. Mickey just disappeared without a trace one day. He had no idea what had become of him.

And then it was the day of the trial. To say I was nervous was about as light as you could put it. In all honesty I was shaking I was so scared. When they took me out and gave my real clothes my hands were shaking so badly I could hardly get dressed. When I did, and came out of my cell, the guard took me to a big room. I was seated in a bench next to Pony, who looked at scared as me. I took his hand, and he squeezed it tightly. Soda and Darry were there too, further along the bench, and they smiled grimly. I could not make my lips form the necessary shape to smile, though it was not for lack of trying.

I was asked questions, as was everyone else. I tried to answer as honestly as I could. I think the judge took pity on me though, for when she saw the condition of my legs, she let me sit to answer the questions. I think that if I had to stand I would not have found myself able. She did the same to Pony, but Darry, Soda, and some girl named Sherri had to stand. The Socs who were part of the group that jumped us also testified that I had only killed the Soc in self-defense. I began to think that maybe I could pull through this.

Then the judge banged her gavel. I couldn't breath. Pony was crushing my hand so hard that I feared it might break.

"This is the verdict. The defendant Reagan Lindsey Winston will be sent to live in a home until she is adapted or turns eighteen, though all other charges will be dropped. Ponyboy Michael Curtis and Sodapop Patrick Curtis will also be sent to a home until they are adopted or turn eighteen. My heart plummeted until I think that it was in the center of the earth. I still couldn't find my breath. I saw that Pony was wracked with silent sobs. Soda was white, and Darry looked so sad that just seeing his face made me want to cry. If there was one word I could use to describe what he looked like it would be defeated. He had tried so hard to keep Pony and Soda out of trouble to avoid this, but in the end it had been futile. I heard later that he had tried to adapt me too. He had sacrificed everything for Pony and Soda, but in the end the lost them too. It was excruciating. I wouldn't let go of Pony. He held hard to me. I reached over Pony for Soda. He took my hand with a ferocity. I saw a tear slip down his cheek. Pony took Darry's hand, and Darry Soda's. It would be the last time I would see them until I turned eighteen. Soda would have Pony, but me and Darry, we were alone.

Someone took our picture, and I made no move to hide my tears. Let people see what the judge had done to us. It was my fault though. Entirely my fault. I hated myself more that anyone else. I blamed myself entirely for it. I should've done something else. Fought without the blade, screamed my head off, something. But no, I had to kill him. And that got Johnny and Dally killed. And now we were separated. I felt a hundred years old in the time after they dragged us apart. I felt as though the strength I had before was nothing now. Diminished completely.

It was a long ride to the home I was going to. The driver offered up random bits of information. It was a girls only place, with girls from ages 12-17. I would have to share my room with someone, and that someone had apparently already been told that I was a murderer (they put it a little more diplomatically than that). I didn't really care though. I just wanted to go home. To my real home. Wished for Soda. Or even Steve, if he had been here I would have kissed him. But I was by myself. I told myself repeatedly to get over it, and to face facts, but I needed some time. Too much had happened. I had seen three people die in only about a month. Not many people could say the same.

"We're here." The driver was gruff, and he opened my door crisply. I stepped out and stared in apprehension at the massive stone building that would be my home. Even just looking at it, it seemed sinister. I shivered, and looked at the driver. He began to walk toward the big door, and I followed him. I had not been allowed to get my clothes from the Curtis's assured that I was be issued with some here, so I had nothing to carry. We were met at the door by a woman who appeared to be around fifty, give or take. She was tall and bony, and looked as severe as the house.

"You must be Winston." I was strange hearing my last name like that. Usually it was spat after Dally, as though some curse. Dallas Winston. I had often forgotten we shared the same name.

"Yes ma'am." I said politely as I could. I was not normally this polite; before I had dropped out of school I regularly got thrown out of class for being disrespectful, but this woman was not one I wanted to get on the bad side of.

"Follow me." She addressed the driver. "I'll take her from here." He shot my a look, that I think was apologetic. I struggled to keep up with the woman. Her legs were much longer than mine, and she walked briskly, with purpose.

There were two main corridors. She pointed to the left one.

"You'll find your classes there." We went the other way though. I dreaded having to go back to school, but decided to cross that bridge when I came to it.

"This is your room." She announced, stopping by the last door on the left. It bore the number 80 in brass lettering. "Your roommate is already there and she has been instructed to show you what to do." She opened the door and all but shoved me in before taking off again. I looked around the room. There were two beds, one closet and little else. There seemed to be no personal items of any kind in here. There was one girl on the bed, a rather large girl, though not fat. Her red hair was straggly and unkempt, coming out of her braid. She looked up.

"So you're Winston?" I nodded, expecting the use of my last name this time.

"I'm Morgan." She pointed to the closet. "Clothes are in there, I would recommend putting 'em on before dinner." I looked in the closet and next to a side marked with my last name were some black pants and a white blouse, like what Morgan was wearing. They fit pretty well, considering that they had not seen me before.

"What are classes like?" I asked. Morgan looked at me.

"Not too hard. The teachers have barely gotten more education that us. Why?" I shrugged.

"I dropped out last year. Wondering of I'll pass." Again Morgan shrugged.

"There's a big test you have to take, and that'll decide which classes you're in, not age. Though, I'm in classes with 12-year-olds and it's a little embarrassing. I dropped out too before I got sent here a year ago."

"Oh. How old are you?"

"Thirteen." It sure didn't look like she was that young. She must have been taller than me by about three or four inches, as she was broader too. The only thing that made her look younger was her round face. I flopped on the bed. Morgan stopped talking to me, and I was glad. It was the kindest thing that she could have done. I needed time right now, not a friend. I needed to think about what was going to happen to me. Most of all I had to got ever the face that I was in a girls home.

So, there you go. I have no idea how authentic this is, I'm sure not very, but this is where the fiction part is going to come in. Sorry, but I strive to have a good story, not have all my fact right. Thanks for your time,

~Cozy