A/n: Sorry for the lack of update. I'm sick right now, and I just finished finals, so things have been slightly hectic. However, here you go! Chapter seven. :) There is only one thing in here that I'd like to point out before continuing. There's mention of clothes that I've done my research well on, merely a mini skirt and crop top. Mind you, this story takes place in 1971. The mini skirt came about in the mid-sixties in England and were at the height of its popularity in the early 70's, after the brief appearance of the hippie maxi skirt. Crop tops were also the kind of everyday bikini, and they also came into the fashion scene in the early to mid seventies. Anyway, if anyone has any questions, corrections, or doesn't think it fits really, please tell me. :)

As always, I do not own The Outsiders, by SE Hinton, nor do I own the song Mad World, written by Roland Orzabal and originally performed by Tears For Fears. Enjoy! Reviews are very appreciated.

All around me are familiar faces/Worn out places, worn out faces/Bright and early for their daily races/Going nowhere, going nowhere

When Darry arrived home, he saw that the living room light was still on. Good God, poor Ponyboy. He must have waited up all night waiting for Darry to return home. By now, it was at the break of dawn, and the sun was making its way into the sky, painting it a brilliant shade of gold and pink. It briefly reminded him of the pictures by Monet that he'd studied in high school; pictures so brilliant that he'd almost wished he could have been a part of them.

Now, though, he hadn't the time to pay attention to such things. Especially not now.

Darry opened the door hesitantly, making sure not to let it slam behind him. Sure enough, on the couch was Pony, fast asleep with one arm flung over the side of the couch and his head still propped on the arm of the couch. On the floor was a discarded copy of A Clockwork Orange.

Darry walked over the couch and shook his brother as lightly as he could. Pony, however, jolted up and looked around wildly. "Hey, little buddy. Don't give yourself a heart attack."

Ponyboy sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Where were you?" He sounded neither accusatory nor angry. Just curious. Darry wondered if somewhere, though, deep in the clockwork of Pony's mind, he was remembering five years back. Five years when fate, or was it kismet? had decided to be ever so cruel to them. When he had been so cruel to Ponyboy.

"I, uh. I got into a rough spot." Darry sighed and sat down. He threw his arm over Ponyboy's shoulder and yawned. He then began to rehash the events of the past night. When he finished explaining everything, from what had happened almost a week ago after approaching Tim, to only a few hours before, it was well past sunrise and Darry had to go to work. It was six forty-five and Darry realized he hadn't slept properly in twenty-four hours.

"I'm thinking of selling the house, too. It's not set in stone or nothin, I've just been thinking on it since the other day. I don't know how long we can afford to live here."

Ponyboy didn't say anything. He only sat still and stared straight at Darry. Darry really wished he wouldn't do that. It was like Pony was staring right into him and it was goddamn unsettling. "Where would we move to?"

"Probably a duplex or something like that." Darry got up and made way toward the bathroom. "I'm going to hop in the shower, though. And hey, kid?"

"Yeah, Darry?"

Darry paused for a moment, not even sure what he was going to ask. "What are you thinking about?"

Pony's lips parted into a smile, and then turned into a frown. "I'm just mulling over what you said."

Darry nodded and turned. He left it at that and prepared to get back into the groove of the day, whether he was prepared to or not.

Darry was hating his new job more and more as every hour went by. He'd hardly been working there a week and he could barely take it. The store was dark and musty, and the only thing that Milo played was the crap country radio station that would occasionally come on with Johnny Cash or John Denver. Usually, though, it stuck to Willie Nelson and the guys Darry couldn't stand. When Milo was out, Darry fiddled with the radio a bit and occasionally came across a good Bowie song or something worth hearing, but usually he turned it off. Soon the only other noise in the place was that goddamned bell that rang every time the door opened.

Mostly, Darry missed the fresh air and ruckus from working outside. He missed the cursing and honking of horns and all of his loud, obnoxious buddies who he'd worked with.

Darry tapped his foot slowly to no particular rhythm as he flipped through a paperback. One thing his new job did give him time to do was read. Watts' Watts was a small Mom and Pop place. It had been around for almost forty years, and it was amazing that the store was still hanging in there. It was only a matter of time before Milo would have to close the place up and Darry would be out looking for another job.

"Christ, boy. You look exhausted." Milo came limping over, clutching his lower back.

"You don't look so great, either," Darry said, nodding toward Milo's hunched back.

Milo waved his hand dismissively. "This? Ain't nothin but a old wound from back in Korea. I ever tell you 'bout Korea?" Milo walked over to the other side of the counter and sat down heavily on the stool. "I ever tell you that I was in Korea?"

"No, sir." Darry straightened up and smiled, welcoming a chance to change the subject from his mundane work. "Anything interesting happen out there?"

"Yeah, sure. Plenty happened. I almost got discharged twice, once honorably, once dishonorably. Now the first time we was out there and I was down in Seoul with a few of my buddies. One of them, Zale , this guy from England, I think, gets this real smart idea to snatch some brandy and cigars from a colonel's place up at a local MASH unit. So, we rent ourselves a jeep and ride on down about three miles to the MASH unit to visit his buddy, Dish. Dish turns out to be this pretty little nurse who he'd been sleepin with, and the last time they left off wasn't so good. So, Zale, Zale puts his arm 'round Dish's waist and grins and says to her, --" Milo cleared his throat and did his best possible Cockney accent", 'Dish, baby, we need a favor 'o yers. See, we's got ourself a mate, 'n 'is name is ... uh ... Tuttle. 'e's real sick, over in another place. So's we's thinkin 'o gettin him some brandy to cheer 'im up, an' we 'ear your comandin officer's got some.' Zale did a little more of this for some time, kinda kissin on Dish, too, and stuff till she's all giggly.

"So, finally," Milo said, still grinning from ear to ear, "after the rest of us left Zale for an hour or so, he'd convinced Dish to sneak in and get us some drinks. Well, we got ourselves the brandy, plus some cigars and got real soused that night." Milo's reminiscent grin turned to a frown. "Zale died about two weeks later in a jeep accident a month 'fore he was set to go home. I never thought how life swept people up like that until then, you know? But anyway, we almost got discharged 'cause I almost got the goddamn lucky shot. There was this kid just sitting out there in the middle of the road -- looked like the cutest little boy I'd ever seen -- and he was bleedin, so I decided that I'd try and, you know, save him. Turned out the kid was dead and there was some guys out in the bushes waitin to ambush the next dumb white guy who tried to save the kid. It was me."

"The second time?"

"That was after I was released from the hospital, actually right back in Seoul -- lucky for us being so close, right? There was a new CO named Dongan , and he was always trying to move up from a Sergeant. This one day, he told me to shoot at these civilians, these 'gooks' he called them, and I didn't. They wasn't doing nothing. But I got written up for it anyway." Milo sighed and checked his watch. "It ain't but half an hour to closing. Get on out of here. I won't tell no one."

Darry smiled and stretched, wincing as his back cracked. "Sounds good. Need help mopping up or anything?"

Milo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah, it ain't needed. I don't bother half the time anyhow."

Darry shook his head and laughed, and then walked out, cursing the chiming bell behind him. Despite the boredom, the chiming bell, and the events of the past few days, a small excitement rose up in him. In less than two hours, he'd see Linda. For just a few hours, he'd restore some tiny amount of normalcy in his life.

"What's she look like?" Bryon Douglas sat across from Darry at the kitchen table, a cigarette hanging idly out of his mouth.

"I dunno. She's tiny, like really short. I think she's about a foot smaller than me."

Bryon smirked. "Sounds like Angel."

"Yeah, but none of us is dating any Shepards these days," Ponyboy said from his perch on the counter.

"What, you broke up with Curly?" Bryon teased.

"Yeah," Pony said with a wry smile. "Only after Cathy came after me 'cause she heard I was better."

Bryon glared at Ponyboy and said a few choice words. Darry assumed that the subject of Cathy was still a slight soft spot between the two.

"Get your feet off the table, Douglas, or you ain't gonna be here much longer." Darry tugged Bryon's chair back, forcing his dirty feet, which still had his shoes intact, off the table. "The only problem about Linda is that she's always got this girl JackieKurtsomething with her who's a pill."

Bryon quickly lost interest in what he'd been saying to Pony and looked at Darry, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Wait, wait, wait. Jackie Kurtwood? Jackie cut-you-up Kurtwood?" A sudden realization seemed to come over Ponyboy and he laughed along with Bryon. "Oh, Jesus H. Christ. Mark once dated her for about a week. They was worse than me and Angela."

"But if she hangs out with Linda, then Linda's gotta be pretty."

"Why do you say that?" Darry asked. Linda was pretty, but perhaps Darry was biased. He'd think any girl he was interested in was pretty, whether she actually was or not.

"Because," Ponyboy said. "She's pretty, she's shallow, she's rich, and she only hangs out with other pretty, rich, shallow girls. They're all a little less prettier than Jackie, though."

"How do you know this? And besides, I think the only reason she's always with Linda is because they're cousins."

Bryon gave a low whistle. "She must be a fox then. Have you ever seen their family? It's like fucking angels had some kinda orgy or something. It ain't normal. Except their dad who's this fat bald Irish guy. But I guess neither of them got his ugly gene."

Pony laughed and nodded, taking a drag on Bryon's cigarette. "She's pretty nice lookin. She was too shallow to even look my way, though. Too poor, too young."

"You're the same age, though," Bryon said.

"Exactly. She only went for older guys. She went for you and Mark all the time."

"Well, I don't think Linda's a brat or anything. I mean, she's real sweet to me. This is our second date."

"If getting crushed by a cast iron bed counts as a date, you mean."

"Smartass." Darry ruffled Pony's hair and laughed.

Darry walked over to the oven to check on the chicken he'd put in when the doorbell rang. Bryon began to get up to answer before Darry gave him a look to sit back down and stay his ass right where it was. Darry closed the oven and went to answer the door. As he expected, there was Linda, grinning from ear to ear. She really did look pretty. She was wearing a mini-skirt and sandals, and a flowy top that Darry couldn't help but notice showed her midriff when she lifted her arms.

"Hi, Darrel."

Darry grinned and opened the door a little wider. "Hey, Linda." He invited her in and rolled his eyes when he saw Bryon and Pony glancing at Linda from the kitchen. "Linda, this is my little brother, Pon-"

"Michael," Ponyboy said, striding into the family room, his hand outstretched.

"- My brother, Michael," Darry said, pointing to Ponyboy. He was slightly fazed, but not very shocked, either. He finished with, "and his friend, Bryon Douglas."

"Pleased to meet you," Linda said, smiling.

Bryon nodded his head nonchalantly and gave Pony a lopsided grin. "C'mon, Michael. I hear you got cheated outta some money in pool a few weeks ago. Wanna win it back?"

Pony smiled and walked out the door, waving to Linda, who was now seated awkwardly on the couch. Bryon walked back toward Darry, grabbing his coat and purposely bumping into him.

"By the way, Curtis, Angel told me this afternoon what happened last night. If she knows, then it means so does everyone and their grandmother. Chances are Tim told her to keep her trap shut a little too late. I'd watch it if I were you, but if you need help, give me a call. I'd take any chance to bust Tim Shepard."

"You still see her then?" Darry asked, careful to mask what they'd been talking about around Linda.

Bryon didn't answer immediately. He walked to the door, turned, and smiled. "Just when I want to." He then shut the door behind him.

Darry pushed what Bryon told him to the back of his head. At least for now. He turned and focused his attention on Linda, who, since Bryon left, had eased up. He turned his attention to Linda, who, since Bryon and Ponyboy had left, seemed to have relaxed considerably. She sat on the couch, legs crossed, and everything about her seemed more feminine. He remembered that only the other day she had looked clean and natural, with her frizzy hair pulled back and strands of hair framing her face. Now she looked fresh and excited, her wild hair down and free in a headband. Darry wasn't sure which one he preferred.

He sat down on the couch, giving Linda some space and smiling a little. "How are you doing?"

"Fantastic! Really nice. My place is coming along nicely, you know. My uncle helped me clean everything else up, and I really appreciate your help."

"It was no problem. I really enjoyed helping."

"Well," Linda smiled sweetly and placed her hand on Darry's knee. "It was a pleasure to get to know you better. I'm enjoying the prospect of knowing you even better now, too."

Did Linda really mean that? Darry wondered. Everything about her seemed to genuine, but after what Bryon and Ponyboy had said, he was curious. But perhaps it was just Jackie ... They were, after all, two quite different people.

"I wish I had a nicer place to show to you. My house is pretty sad."

"No, I really think it's really nice. A home is what you make of it. I once lived in a two bedroom house with six people."

Darry raised his eyebrows. "Six people?"

"Well, I was shipped around a lot as a kid. My father is a banker, and he got shipped from place to place, and when I was little, he and my mother split, so sometimes, if my mother wasn't able to afford us, we'd live where my dad was." Linda smiled. "Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I've never been very far outside of Oklahoma. Texas is the furthest I've been, honestly."

"Darrel, it's beautiful. If Daddy still worked there, I'd find a way to show you. People are absolutely alive there. It's invigorating."

"Isn't everyone alive? I mean, you're either living or you're not, right?"

Linda furrowed her brow. "Of course not. Everyday I see people walk down the street and they just keep their eyes pasted to the ground. It's pathetic. They're physically alive, but they might as well have died years ago. Do you know what I mean?"

"Well, I suppose I can see what you mean. I just don't fully comprehend it." To Darry, this seemed like something Ponyboy would eat up. He was, after all, the psychology major.

After a few moments, Linda got up and walked into the kitchen. Darry followed her, to find Linda standing at the table, tinkering with the coffee percolator.

"You're unbelievable." Darry said.

Linda turned and laughed, though she seemed unsure of whether or not Darry was serious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I've just never met someone who can't hardly hold one conversation for more than a few minutes, and yet for some reason it doesn't annoy me the way it usually would. It's just amusing. And if you want coffee, I can make you some. Just don't break the damned thing."

Linda blushed. "I'm not very domesticated."

Suddenly, Darry grinned, and he felt a strange excitement come over him. He grinned. "Good thing one of us is." He opened the top shelf and took out a tin of Folger's Coffee Grinds and noticed that there wasn't much left. He wondered if coffee would soon have to become a luxury. He pushed that thought away, just as he had with Bryon's comment, and made the coffee.

One thing he did enjoy was that Linda was content to watch Darry simply make coffee. She didn't mind skipping the small talk and not making any conversation at all. He couldn't stand useless small talk.

When he was done with the coffee, and dinner was finished, Darry sat down with two plates, one for himself, and other set in front of Linda. "It's nothing grand, but it's just the chicken my mom taught me how to make when I was a kid."

Linda nodded and began to eat, brandishing her fork in between sentences. "When I was in high school, we played this game called the Truth Game. You'd go back and forth, and tell anything about yourself that someone else might not know. But you can't lie. Hence why it's called the Truth Game."

"I don't really have any secrets, though." Darry knew that was probably the most blatant lie he'd ever told; his secrets seemed to pile up by the day.

"Oh, everyone does. I'll start. I've never been to Paris. And my father's not a bank executive. He's a bank teller. He lives in Paris, Texas. But my siblings and I did live with him when my mom ran out of money, and I did live in a two bedroom house with six people. We moved around a lot. Just not outside of the states. They separated, Mom and Dad I mean, when I was little, because my mother was just kind of miserable, and Dad was always full of life and stuff. I think having four children took its toll on Mom and she finally just left, took us, then gave us to Dad when she couldn't afford us. But she was liberated and happy. It was just in a sad, kinda twisted way."

Darry stared at Linda and saw the genuine sadness in her eyes. He appreciated her honesty, though it was overwhelming. Then again, he'd met plenty of people whose fathers or mothers had walked out on the family, Steve's mom and Two-Bit's dad being the perfect example. One day there, and then the next, without a rhyme or reason, they were gone.

Linda gave Darry a small smile, and flourished her hand, as if to say, "It's perfectly okay," and shrugged. "Now it's your turn."

He thought for a moment, then recalled something he'd never revealed to anyone else except for the person with him at the time. "You've seen Old Yeller, right?"

"Sure, of course."

"Well, my dad, he used to take me and my brothers hunting a lot, and my younger brother, he was a really good shot, but he'll never hurt anything if he doesn't have to. But this one time, me and my friend Paul, back in high school, we were riding around, and we saw this old yellow dog on the side of the road, and it looked miserable and mangy. It didn't look like it'd make it another day without being downright miserable. So, we opened Paul's trunk, got out a hunting rifle, and put the dog out of his misery. And, believe it or not, I even cried a little bit. It was the first time I'd experienced death."

Linda's facial expression hadn't changed. It was still inquisitive, if not a little sad. "You've seen death, haven't you?" Darry didn't respond. How could he? Here was someone who thoroughly intrigued him, interested, and amused him. Yet he wasn't going to open up to her. He still hardly knew her.

"It's okay." She reached over and took his hands in hers. "If we didn't lose the friends we love, even dogs on the street, nothing would make an impact on us. People don't have to be physically dead to die."

Darry only smiled, because it was all he could do to be polite. He hadn't expected such an awkward turn of events in the conversation. And he certainly wasn't sure what Linda meant by being dead and still living. To him, the dog was dead. Dallas, Johnny, Mom, and Dad, and Sodapop were dead. That was all.

The hot, heavy night air had turned frigid and cool, and Darry shivered as he walked up to Linda's front steps, his large leather jacket loosely fitting her.

She said, "I have to be at dance practice for the next week, so I don't think I'll see you much. But I want you to know that I do enjoy being around you."

Darry grinned and didn't say anything. Rather, he leaned toward her, tucking a loose strand of frizzy, dark hair behind her ear, and kissed Linda ever so briefly on the lips. "I'll call you."

"That sounds nice. Hasta luego," she whispered.

Darry wasn't sure what that meant, but he liked the sound of it. He stepped off the stoop, grinning, forgetting the cold night air. Perhaps things would turn out okay. Maybe.