Dear Curly,

Where to begin? I don't know. There's so many ways I could say this, but I know you like your facts simple and straight, so I'll just say what needs to be said first.

I'm pregnant with Dally's baby. As I'm writing this, I'll be about ten weeks along. I know all the things you're probably gonna say when you read this—if you ever read this—but let me just say first that these things can and do happen. I decided to keep the baby. I'm not ashamed of him. He's comfortable in there, and I am, too. He's the size of a kidney bean but I feel him in there, and I love him already. His name's going to be David Arthur. You know, Dad's name. I hope Tim won't mind.

I've been thinking a lot about me and Dally, too. I'm in love with him. I know—Tim said what do I know? But...there's something different about him now. He's not like we always knew him. He's always been there for us and we didn't even know it. He never asked anything from us. That's the real measure of a man, Curly. I hope I can raise my son to be like that.

The other day I went to the kitchen when you were out, and I told Tim. I told him everything. He blew up at me. I knew he would. I knew it. I knew he didn't mean any of it...I just have a hard time convincing myself he didn't. It's still him, and it still hurts sometimes. I know it always seems like it doesn't, but what Tim thinks means a lot to me. A lot more than you realize—more than even I realize sometimes. I don't know. I'm really excited and really scared at the same time. You know what? Tim actually told me to get out. And it was weird, but I thought, Now I don't have to be kept here all day long...I can be my own person now. Whoever Angela Shepard is, she can be what she wants to be now...but in order for me to do that, I'll have to leave you two behind. To be honest, I'm more scared for you two than I am for me.

I think it's best if I went with Dally. Guess what? He finally found himself a good station at the Slash J. He should be at Adams Street to pick me up. He told me to meet him there tonight. At first I said, No, no, I can't. He said, Why not? I said, Don't you know? Old Jimmy Jones is gonna be walking down the street. And he kind of smirked, like he always does, and he leaned in, and he kissed me. He doesn't think I'm that dumb little girl anymore. He's changed so much. He's not as...wild...as he used to be. But he hasn't lost what makes him Dally. He loves me. Me! Out of all the girls in the world. God, I've never felt so happy.

Curly—I hope you don't think I'm a bitch. Two have been enough for Tim. There's only room in this family for one bitch, and that's me.

Please don't let Tim beat himself up. I couldn't stand it if he worked himself up over me. I'll be fine, I promise. I'm a really lucky person, and besides, I got Dally with me now. You remember that time, a long time ago, when Timmy almost bled to death? He told you it was because he had to get used to the bitch. This is kind of my way of getting used to my own bitch. He should understand. And it's like you always say: suck up your shit. Well, right now I'm sucking up all my shit and taking it back. Then I'm letting it go. Don't ever let anyone tell you that letting go is the same thing as giving in. It's not.

I think that's what happened when I kissed Dally. I admitted I loved him, so I had already torn off that mask. I think some part of him did, too. When more people at school found out about me being pregnant, they started calling me everything under the sun—filthy, no-good, white trash. But you know what? Maybe I am filthy. Maybe I am no-good. Maybe I am white trash. And I am not sorry for it. Not one goddamned bit. You know why? Because I know that even filthy no-good white trash like me's still gonna bleed when you cut her open.

But...it's been so hard on all of you. I see you get worked up over little things, and that frightens me sometimes. That shooting really got to you. Everbody's all shook up. I wish I could have been there in the ambulance when Tim had that episode, but I was just so upset, I started throwing up everywhere. Dallas stayed behind to help me. I told you this before, but you were beating on Tim's chest and making sores on him. I just thought, oh, Curly...

I see you now; your eyes are hard and afraid. I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong. I like it when you talk to me, really, I do: it's when you don't talk at all that I get upset.

I talked to Kathy the other day. She was so upset over Two-Bit. You thought he was an ass, but—he was really a good guy. He and his mom let her stay at his house because her parents disowned her when they found out. Two-Bit came home every day to keep her company, you know, watch on her and stuff, because his mom had to go to work and his sister had school. She said he used to stay up until four in the morning just sitting beside her, talking, trying to make her laugh. It hurt Two-Bit a lot that Kathy was in pain almost the entire time. She almost lost her baby twice, you know. The first time, she was bleeding. Scary stuff.

The second time, she couldn't feel a heartbeat. She started snapping at Two-Bit because she was all shook up and just feeling awful. It escalated after that. Soon, she said, they were fighting about useless little stuff. One day, she didn't mean to, but she yelled at him about a pair of curtain rods that wouldn't fit right. And he walked away. Didn't even laugh. You know that guy found everything funny, but he just went blank. Zero.

They had a falling-out that night, the night of the party. She didn't want him to go. Two-Bit finally blew up at her, said it was his own life and some other stuff she didn't want to repeat, got his jacket and slammed the door. I told her that he was obviously drunk—no way in his right mind—but she was crying, beating herself up real bad. She thought she'd pushed him away, too.

At the hospital the doctors said Two-Bit was crying, asking for her. I'm glad they got to make up for it, at least, before he died. I didn't have the heart to tell her—they said he only had a few more weeks anyway with the extent of his injuries. I feel awful; they didn't deserve any of that. I mean, he'll never get to see his son being born, or raise him, or hold him, or see him graduate school. But Kathy said he had died for a minute on the operating table and already saw his little boy standing beside him. The boy said he was his son and that his name was Nate. The little boy wanted him to pass a tunnel into Heaven. Two-Bit told the little boy that he had to stay for one more day on Earth, just to tell Kathy how much he loved her. The boy said they'd let him go for one day, and then he had to stay—for good. The doctors were able to revive him for a little while. He told her everything, how sorry he was. She said they were laughing and bawling their eyeballs out at the same time, about their memories, about his meeting with their little boy, about everything. Two-Bit kept holding onto her hand like it was a life preserver. Her hand hurt from all that crushing, but she said it was a good kind of hurt.

I think you know what happened the day after. Poor baby. I'm going to be there for her when she has Nathan. She's due in about a month and a half. When I get settled in with Dally, I'm going straight to the hospital to help her out. I should know—I'm just starting to get ready for that. I got nine months to go. Knowing me, it'll probably feel like forever.

And you probably heard that Ponyboy and Sodapop were taken away by social workers this Saturday. Well, Dally just told me they took them away because Bennie's parents had to have somebody play the fall guy—so they went and told the police that Sodapop had shot all of those people to cover up the fact that Bennie killed a bunch of people. Curly, right now I can't even see straight! The fucking disgusting things they did to that family—and the fucking pigs who believed them—they didn't even question nobody! Bennie was shooting, and we all knew it, we all saw Bennie do it...Darry tried to explain all of that to them, but the Commies just barged in and hauled them out to the car. Steve was there, too, and he was swearing and kicking so much it took all of Darry's strength to keep him from ripping their heads off. Sodapop said quietly that it wasn't a good idea to fight back, and Darry said Steve kind of sagged when he said that, like somebody just took an invisible pair of scissors and snipped the strings off a puppet. Steve's kind of like that now. He walks around like he's not really there. Well, because he was panicking, Darry began to panic, too. Dallas said he was talking to Johnny Cade that night—they were going for a walk down Highland Street—and they could hear screaming clear from there.

When they got down there, Darry had already snapped and was trying to smash the car windows out with a baseball bat, trying to get Ponyboy and Sodapop out. I mean, they wouldn't listen to him at all—kept saying he wasn't fit to raise them, kept saying it was a bad neighborhood with bad influences—he got crazy. I'd be, too, if I worked as hard at keeping my family together the way he did. They had these big guys come right out of the car and he was down. Then those fucking bastards drove the boys to a home in Oklahoma City.

What a nightmare. I can't imagine going through any of that.

I want you to tell Tim I said I'm sorry, and that I love him—he's never heard it from me, and I feel like I've let him down. I hope he forgives me, and he forgives himself...he takes everything into himself.

Curly, what I'm trying to say is, before it might be too late—I know you'll probably never read this. And if you do, you might not ever talk to me again. I just want you to know one thing, Curly Shepard, as long as I'm alive, and that thing is: no matter what happens, no matter who you are, or what you're doing, or where you go, you'll always got me to love you.

Angela C. Shepard