When you live in a place like I do; with the same things happening day in and day out you'd expect the days to blur together – and they do. But at the same time they don't because when the same things happen it feels like you're living the same day over and over again without realizing the sun rising and setting each and every day. Though the things that seem to repeat everyday didn't happen at the exact same time and place – so it was an even mixture of blurred together and not-blurred together ... If that even makes sense? I don't really know.

But the next two weeks sure felt like they blurred themselves together into one very long and very rough day. The days were getting darker earlier, the nights getting colder. Everything was changing very quickly without warning.

The Social class were starting to come deeper and deeper from their territory into ours – while we respected the invisible line that separated the South and North sides – they didn't. We'd find their Mustangs and Corvettes driving down our streets whenever they felt like it. Didn't matter if it was night or day.

There was some places that were called mutual areas – places that Greasers and Socs could come on to and off of whenever they pleased – didn't stop fights breaking out in them, but it was nothing we could call a turf war over because no one owned that turf.

Like the drive-in/movie theatre. Both kinds could go there without crossing lines or the towns centre anyone could walk up the sidewalk.

But the Socs were starting to pollute themselves into the North side and none of us liked it. Last Wednesday Curly, I and some of the outfit found a red Mustang parked inside our train track ally ways and we had it out with the five Socs inside.

They left but they came back the next day and the next day, there wasn't an hour that seemed to go by without a fight breaking out – or something happening. Greasers didn't walk alone anymore and if they did they had a blade with them.

I hadn't found my blade either so on Friday Two-Bit who might I add had a very good and slick talent for shoplifting just about anything went to the hardware store with me.

The two of us had walked around near three hours looking at random pointless things neither of us needed or could afford and he lifted me a blade that was almost the near twin to his own. Black handled and a butterfly blade, except where his blade was ten inches in length and his prize possession that he used to show off and scare people with [he carried a second one that he'd be more willing to cut up someone with.] Mine was five inches, not a prized possession and I wouldn't hesitate to cut a person with it.

Two-Bit and I got along, we were bold in the shoplifting department the two of us managed to make off with half a store inside our pockets without being caught – we overloaded ourselves on junk-food for the next two and a half days.

Inside the washroom with a towel that I started rubbing my hair with to dry it I kept staring at myself in the mirror amazed two weeks had past by all ready it was crazy. Putting the towel down on the sink the red mark that Bob had left against my neck had faded off days ago.

I turned around to the wooden shelf built into the wall, I'd all ready put on my underwear and bra so now I pulled my jeans from the shelf and unfolded them pulling them on. They were pre-teen boys jeans, I didn't like girls jeans because they belled out at the bottom and actual jeans for men didn't go down enough in size to fit. Perfect is what these jeans were fitted in all the right places though I needed to roll them up a few times so they didn't drag under my shoes.

Them along with a black t-shirt and white socks made for the perfect outfit – not that I was going for top fashion. With my damp hair I left the washroom, putting the towel in the hamper just outside the door I B-lined it for my bedroom.

Pushing some things out of the way, finding one shoe and them the other. Black converse, neglecting to untie the laces I just pulled them on and rolled my jeans up to shoe off the shoe, the shoe that if you wore you were poor. Personally I liked them.

"Smokes." I looked around for the package before finding it and putting them on my left sleeve. Rolling the fitted fabric over them twice so my package of cigarettes were incased in fabric as my shoulder. Slipping my matches into my pocket and my blade into the other.

It was mid afternoon and heading into evening, spending most of the day sleeping was very pleasurable and so was waking up to the afternoon sun.

I had, had no plans today or intended on having any and yet I still got up and got dressed like I did. Even if it was going to be nighttime very soon. Listening carefully to the front door opening and closing and the sound of foot steps I wondered if that was Tim coming home from being missing in action for the last two and a half days.

Speaking of missing in action I hadn't seen Curly for a day and a half, slightly normal enough I didn't feel the need to rush out and panic but I felt worried because of all these Soc crap happening around lately.

The twin instinct I had was telling me there was nothing to worry about, I'd know if something had happened to him, so I let it be.

"Hello?" A voice called across the house, I tensed that voice wasn't Curly and it sure wasn't Tim. Bruce, mom and Angela had taken off to town this morning leaving me alone.

I left my bedroom and I took the hallway carefully, I hadn't registered the voice to a name or a face, my hand inside my pocket with the blade and the other on my hip when I rounded the corner to the full view of the front door, my eyes widened. "Jesus Christ! What are you going here!" My hand left my pocket when I exclaimed at them.

"Hello to you too." They grinned Devilishly at me and I narrowed my eyes, feeling like my personal space had been invaded in some kind of way while looking up at Dallas Winston. "When did you get out of the cooler?" I knew he had at least two months left on his sentence.

"Out early, good behaviour." He strolled across from the door sitting down sprawled out onto a couch. "Somehow I doubt that." I kept an even tone. I had been alone with Dallas Winston several hundred times before that wasn't the problem.

The problem was every time we were alone I remembered the very first time we were alone, thirteen and fifteen years old. Over at his place 'cause Tim thought I needed protection after a deal he'd been doing went sour and he was going to deal with it.

It was raining all that day and into the night the rain never let up, I lost my virginity that nigh to Dallas. But actually I didn't. I'd lost it before when I was eleven to someone else unwillingly but I never spoke about it, I'd pushed that memory so far back into my mind to forget. I claimed Dallas was my first time.

Tim wanted to knock his head in a year later when he found out but never actually followed through. The world of sex was something people learned young out here too. A lot of people especially Greasers lost their virginity by the age of fourteen.

Most of the girls were squeezing out a child by fifteen and married by sixteen, unless you were – you know medically unable to have children. If I believed in luck I'd say I was lucky not to have gotten knocked up the times I'd have sex and I know this'll make me sound easy and cheap but I had sex with various people just to say I'd had sex.

Didn't mean I had to like 'em, just meant I was board and wanted something to do. But I hadn't had sex in a few months. A lot of other things had been on my mind, I suppose that was it.

"What you saying I'm not good?" Dallas seemed amused with the subject of him being good, everyone knew that was the last thing Dallas was.

"Exactly what I'm saying." I brought my leg over the back of a chair and slide down onto it, crossing my legs over Indian style, sleeping all day I swore made you want to sleep more. "Good." He nodded approvingly and the silence set in.

Twiddling my fingers against the arm of the chair, I coughed into my shoulder wishing Tim or someone else would show up. Because the longer I sat with Dallas the more I realized I didn't like him, not sexually at least. He was an okay guy, decent to hang out with but not very attractive – might've been from the number of ugly greasy girls he'd stuck his – up.

"Gotta smoke?" His voice broke the silence and I didn't bother with words just rolling my sleeve down taking my pack out I tossed it at him, catching it he took out one and found a match in his pocket, lighting it off his necklace. "Thanks." His edged voice still cold.

Shrugging I uncrossed my legs, putting them on the ground and yawning.

"If you haven't guessed Tim isn't around." I felt the urge to tell him just incase he suspected he was busy and would soon appear, but Dallas nodded. "I figured, I ain't that stupid." He pointed out flicking ashes into an empty beer can.

"No, just partly that stupid." I whispered and heard him hiss making me smirk up at him. "Bitch." He snapped and I laughed now. "Best you can do is Bitch? Really..." I kept laughing and he smirked this time.

"Been 'round to see the gang this afternoon, Socs jumped Ponyboy when he was walking home from the movies." Dallas sat up onto the edge of the couch, sniffing. Readjusting to the life outside the prison cell once again.

"What?" I sat up properly, looking at him with large eyes. "Is Pony okay?" I felt an anger rush across myself and Dallas nodded quickly. "Yeah, we all showed up. Gotta slice on his neck from a blade but he's good." I could feel Dallas looking at me when I looked forward out the living room window.

"Oh, good." I nodded rubbing my forehead. "Real good, lucky y'all showed up." I tagged on and stood up stretching. "We've gotta get revenge on the guy who got Johnny now that I'm out, man." He inhaled the cigarette holding it with his thumb and index finger.

"You're right we sure do." I pointed at him with a nod to agree. "Real soon." It seemed Dallas had a personal vendetta against Bob. He always did but it seemed to get a lot greater after what happened to Johnny.

"Anyways man." He stood up looking around and I had walked over to the fridge taking out a bottle of beer twisting the cap off, the cap tinged against the floor as it rolled away. "Probably should go, gotta lot to do." He coughed into his jacket.

"Mmm, going to see Sylvia?" I wondered after taking a long sip of the beer in my hand and Dallas nearly scoffed, he held up his left hand the Senior ring he'd rolled a drunken Senior for some two years ago was back on his ring finger and I rolled my eyes. "Typical, you two break up every two days." I pointed out and he narrowed his eyes.

"This time its done, she was fuckin' around on me while I was in jail, again!" He looked mad and I put the bottle of beer down on the table. "She was two timing you when you weren't, jails got nothing to do with it!" I narrowed my eyes.

"Ah... Shut the fuck up." Dallas nodded sharply while opening the front door and leaving with a slam. I couldn't suppress a laugh...