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Chapter Seven

No Smoking

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Sorry it took me so long to post this.... I have seen an alarming decrease of my free time lately. (Gag) Plus, I'm lazy. Its kinda choppy, but I like it better than last chapter. So anyway, read!


Dally took the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, sighed, and put them back in.No smoking. The Curtis parent had been very firm on that. It had been at the top of an extensive list of rules that Dally was just about to go crazy with.

He'd been on his best behavior the past three days. He was amazing himself with how good he could be. "Goody goody," he muttered at himself as he stood up. He was bored beyond belief. Being good had its advantages, but it had disadvantages, too. Lots of them.

"Pony!" he yelled.

"Yeah?" answered Ponyboy.

"If anyone asks, I'm looking around town."

He started toward the door, paused, and returned, feeling under his mattress for his switchblade. He didn't ever go anywhere in New York without it, he didn't want to here, either. He'd hidden it on the hunch that the Curtis parents wouldn't be too pleased if they'd found out about it.

With his switchblade in his pocket, he headed down the hall to the front door, wondering where he should go. By the time he was out on he street, he'd decided on going to the park he'd spent that first night at. He headed in that general direction, lighting a cigarette as he went.

He was wondering what would happen if he saw David and Christina- or more if they saw him, smoking, when, like magic, he looked up and saw them both come around the corner. They didn't see him, and with reflexes born of three years as a hood in New York, he ducked off the sidewalk and into the alley, running into the greaser who was already standing there.

He fell over, but luckily farther into the alley instead out on the sidewalk where the Curtis's would be sure to see him. They walked by without glancing his way.

Sighing in relief, Dally looked up into a pair of bemused eyes, regarding him amusedly.

"The Curtis's ain't gonna hurt ya, yah know," he drawled, grinning. "Why, I been over there a few times, and I've still got all my arms and legs, even."

Feeling rather foolish, Dally scrambled to his feet, muttering an explanation.

"So you're living with the Curtis's now?" The greaser asked. He was a few years older than Dally, fifteen, maybe, and looked like he belonged in New York. "That could get annoyin, I'm imagining." He grinned. "I'm Tim Shepard. Who're you?"

"Dally Winston. I moved here from New York City."

"I got a cousin out there who says I should come live with him. Says its my kinda place. You Wanna go to the Dingo? I don't got nothin better to do, and I know some people who'd like to meet ya."

"Uh... Sure," answered Dally, wondering what The Dingo was.

"C'mon. You got another Cancer stick I can have?"

Dally tossed him one, and got out one for himself, following Tim towards the Dingo.

****

The Dingo was a bar/restaurant/general hangout. It looked like all the greasers in the town were there, eating, talking, fighting, smoking, playing pool. Dally grinned. If he'd known this was here, he'd've come here before.

Tables were everywhere, in garish colors of red and Yellow and orange, and everyone was laughing, talking, yelling, cussing, and making a general racket.

"Hey, Tim," said a voice behind them. Dally turned to see a greaser standing there. "Who's this?" He jerked his thumb at Dally.

"Dallas Winston," said Dally.

The greaser peered at Dally. "Have I seen you before? I'm Glenn, by the way. I'm in Shepards gang."

"You got organized gangs around here?"

Tim winced. "Just one. Makes it hard to have rumbles, but the Socs are always good for a fight."

Disappointed, Dally turned back to Glenn. "You might have met my brother. He came up here a few years ago. Michael."

"Oh yeah. How's he doing?"

Dally froze. He hadn't been expecting that. "He... died. Was killed. Gang fight a year or two back."

Luck saved Glenn from having to reply to that in the form of another greaser. Sneaking up behind Tim, he yelled "Boo!" right in his ear and laughed hysterically when he jumped. "Hey, Tim, Glenn. Who's this?" He grinned crazily at Dally.

"This is Dallas Winston," answered Tim. "Dally, that's Two-bit. He's crazy."

Two-bit pretended to look sad, and ended up grinning. "Hi, Dallas Winston. Hey Tim, guess who busted out my windows yesterday night?"

Tim smiled. "Socs. This calls for a getting back." He turned to Dally. "You wanna come. We'll just bust out a few car windows, slash a few tires...."

Dally was grinning. This could prove to be the most fun he'd had since he'd moved from New York.