Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Halestorm owns "Amen."

Gets harder every day

This is one hell of a place

To keep your heart from freezing

To keep yourself believing

November 12, 1965

Ella scribbled down the last of her biology notes, glad that the class was nearly over. She was never one for science to begin with, so she never found enjoyment in class.

The other students chattered around her, already finished with the assignment. Ella had always been rather slow when it came to both science material and mathematics, as they weren't her strong suits, so she tried to take her time with each subject.

"Hey," Craig greeted from her right, leaning across the table she was at and offering her a soft smile.

The brown-haired girl jumped back a hair. "Craig—"

"I know, I startled you," he finished, chuckling. "I was wondering if—"

"If I was busy tonight?" she guessed, raising an inquisitive brow. At Craig's mildly shocked expression, she continued. "You've asked me out nearly every day this week."

An innocent look blanketed the boy's features. "I'm sorry. I just . . . I really enjoyed our last date, and I would like to see you again."

Ella flushed. She wasn't used to boys asking her out, or noticing her for that matter. She never considered herself good-looking; she was plain, ordinary, not the girl you'd see on the arm of a nice, well-mannered boy who was popular and outgoing.

Or so she had thought.

It was true, though. Craig had approached her every day that week inquiring about a second date, and Ella had been either working or tutoring, so she was never able to go. Craig had been patient with her, but he wasn't shy about being persistent in his quest to go out with her again.

She had actually been more shocked than anything. For the first time, she felt liked, noticed, and it made her stomach knot and her chest tighten. Craig had wanted to go out with her, he liked her, and Ella wasn't used to that kind of thing.

"Would tomorrow work for you?" she asked, searching his face.

Craig grinned. "Sure. Same time?" At her nod, he slipped her a piece of paper. "Call me."

Ella felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she stared down at his number. As the bell rang, she placed it inside of her bag and gathered up her books to head to history.

Dally sat in Mr. Davis's office with a contemptuous look on his face. He was getting awfully sick of these visits with the principal, even though they'd only spoken a few times. The hood seldom had any tolerance for authoritative figures, and Mr. Davis was no exception.

He wondered if he was called down to discuss his grades or whatever, and sighed in annoyance, using the heel of his boot to drum against the floor.

The older man entered only moments later, eyeing Dallas with vague interest. He sat behind his desk, shuffling through his papers until he reached a manila folder with the greaser's name on it.

"You're aware that today ends the first marking period, yes?" Mr. Davis asked, not even sparing Dallas a glance. "Your teachers were good enough to send your current progress and grades to me throughout the week so we can go over where you're at." He thumbed through some papers, ignoring the lack of response from Dallas.

The blond hardly listened as Davis read his grades aloud, going over how it was practically a miracle that he'd just passed the marking period. Yeah, a real fucking miracle alright. It was a miracle that he'd made it this far; next Monday would mark one month since he'd started at this hell-hole.

"So's, that mean I don't need a tutor no more?" Dallas asked curiously. "You know, since I passed an' all."

Mr. Davis gave him a skeptical look. "The tutoring sessions are part of the stipulation that you attend this school, Mr. Winston. Academically, you are still quite far behind, and it is our job to make sure that you don't fall further back." He shook his head. "Is there a problem with that?"

Dallas's eyes met his, a sneer on his face. The man was testing him, he could tell. Since the minute he had set foot in this school, in Davis's office, he knew that the older man didn't like him, and he was going to let him know that in every undermining way that he could.

"You mean I'm stuck with that broad for the rest of the school year?" At the principal's blatant expression, he didn't need a clarified answer. "Well, fuck."

That certainly caused a reaction. "Language, Mr. Winston!" Davis sat up straight, squaring his shoulders as he did. "The second marking period begins on Monday. I expect to see those grades come up within the next few weeks."

Seven months. He was down to seven lousy months before he was done with this place. He gritted his teeth thinking that if Davis was anyone else, he would have belted him already without a moment's hesitation.

As the towheaded greaser went to exit the office, a sly remark on the tip of his tongue, Mr. Davis spoke in a causal tone, causing the teen to stop by the door and forget his comment.

"Perhaps you could be a role-model of sorts to your friend Keith, since he hasn't bothered to make any improvement since our talk Monday."

Dally's lips thinned out as he thought about Two-Bit. He wondered if that was the reason his clown of a buddy had been somewhat off—not that there was anything about Two-Bit that wasn't off.

With that, Dallas took his leave, making it his business to find out what the hell was going on with Mathews.

Ponyboy turned his head to the side, lighting up a smoke, as he attempted to ignore the sound of Steve sweet-talking Evie on the driver's side of his car. His ears had tinted red, and he considered leaving the pair to hang around some of his other friends just to get away for a few minutes.

Luckily for him, though, Dally would be joining them soon. Two-Bit had cut out early after he received a detention in math class.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Richie Maulfred said, jogging over to the younger boy. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Ponyboy took a drag of his cigarette, Darry's voice echoing in his mind about him smoking so much his lungs ought to be black. He was sure they could be, being a weed fiend and all. The greaser wasn't sure he wanted to quit, though, no matter how serious he took athletics.

He nodded to Richie, his fellow track partner. "About as ready as I'll ever be."

Richie grinned. "Sure." A pause. "George and his cronies still giving you a rough time?"

"They ain't doing nothing," Ponyboy replied, a hint of indigence laced in his voice. He looked at his older acquaintance quickly. "Shoot, Richie, I didn't mean—"

The light-haired boy merely shook his head, eyes landing on Dallas Winston as he approached. "Don't worry about. Look, I'll see you later, yeah?"

Ponyboy watched him go, dropping his cigarette butt and squashing it into the gravel. He offered Dally a curt nod as the older teen leaned his back against Steve's car beside him.

"Two-Bit here?" he asked leisurely, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

Pony shook his head. "Cut out early."

Dally swore under his breath, before turning around to face Steve and Evie. "You two ought to get a room for Pete's sake. Ain't nobody around who wants to see you two playing tonsil hockey."

Steve simply shot him the bird, which caused the towheaded teen to rock the hood of the car to give them a shake, since they were leaning against it.

"Glory, Dallas, quit it, will ya?" Steve said, shooting his buddy a glare.

Evie crossed her arms, pulling away from her boyfriend. "Forget it. I'll see you later, Stevie."

After she had walked away, Steve jerked his head around to sneer at Dallas. "Asshole."

The other teen only responded with a gratified smirk as Steve lit up his own cigarette, casually walking around the passenger side of his car.

"You taking a shift at Buck's tonight?" he asked, eyeing Dallas coolly.

Dallas hummed in response. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was working the bar a few hours here and there for the notorious bootlegging cowboy who housed him almost scot-free.

Steve continued. "There a party tonight? Evie was talking about going."

Beside them, Ponyboy rolled his eyes, knowing that Soda would probably be going along with them if there was. Ever since Sandy left, Steve had been trying to get him out around other girls—his way of attempting to make him forget about his former love.

Pony wondered if that was even possible. Still, he and Darry both hated seeing their brother so broken up over the girl who apparently hadn't loved him the way he loved her. It had been surprising to learn of her disloyalty; nobody ever thought her to be the type.

Dallas shrugged. "Yeah, probably. It's a Friday night." He inwardly grimaced at the sound of Hank Williams echoing through his mind. Buck's taste in music left a lot to be desired; it was fucking disgusting.

"Tuff enough," Steve replied, blowing out a smoke ring.

Ella sighed almost dramatically as she left the main office later that afternoon. Mr. Davis had wanted to speak with her briefly about Dallas Winston. He'd wanted to make sure that she was aware that the hood would be continuing the tutoring sessions with her until June.

The brown-haired girl almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She had to spend another seven months with Dallas Winston? What could be worse than that? Glory, that was a lot of time to spend around somebody that you didn't necessarily like.

Was three days a week at two hours per day for the last month not enough? And just when Ella thought that maybe she might be done with Winston, Mr. Davis has to drill that into her skull.

Speaking of the blond headed greaser, Ella hadn't really seen him since Wednesday, and she almost felt like he was avoiding her or something, not that they had any reason to associate with one another besides tutoring. Still, he had approached her on a few occasions during the school day, even if it was just to mock her in some way or another.

Just as she was rounding the corner, she had practically collided into somebody, sending her books sprawling out of her hands.

"Shoot, I'm sorry—"

"Ponyboy," she greeted, reaching for a fallen book. "I didn't see you."

The younger teen handed her the other book, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that."

Ella waved it off. "It's fine, honestly." She took a breath. "How are you?"

Pony smiled a little. "Alright, I guess. How've you been? Dal giving you a rough time?"

His cheeks flushed a bit as he rambled for a second. Usually, he didn't talk much, but he had been utterly shocked that he'd literally ran into Dally's tutor. He hadn't seen her since that day they spoke in the library a month ago.

She chuckled lightly. "What would you consider rough? I was under the assumption that rough was just his way of expressing himself."

He nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

Ella clutched her books against her chest, tilting her head a bit to look at Ponyboy. There was something about him that she liked, and she didn't even know him. He just seemed like a decent kid to her, and she appreciated the fact that he wasn't like Dallas.

Ponyboy's cheeks began heating up when he realized Ella's blue orbs were focused directly on him, and he looked away quickly, slightly embarrassed but not put-off.

"Well, I'd better get goin'. My teacher will think I ditched the rest of the period," he explained, giving her a quick nod. "I'll see you around."

Two-Bit entered the DX, the bell giving a light chime as the door slammed behind him. He wasn't sure exactly why he'd walked there, but he didn't feel like being in school any longer, and there didn't seem to be any action going on elsewhere.

Soda walked around from the back, giving his friend a bright grin. "Well, howdy!"

Two-Bit clapped him on the shoulder. "How's it goin', buddy? Thought I'd drop by and visit ya."

The younger teen playfully whacked his arm off. "Yeah, seein' as it's my break, you're just in time." He looked him over carefully. "Didn't feel like going to school today?"

He shrugged. "Well, thing about that is, Old Lady Baker gave me a detention for disrupting her class one too many times, and I figured, might as well bail out now. No use in me stayin', there ain't nothing going on around that joint."

"Says the one who enjoys going."

Two-Bit swiped a Pepsi from the fridge. "Hey, now, don't go getting sassy on me, Curtis. I get enough of that from the younger one."

The golden-haired boy gave a wolfish smile. "Runs in the family."

"I've heard that before," he replied, plopping down next to Soda behind the station. "So, how's your day treating ya?"

Soda shrugged, wiping his hands on a spare rag, before ripping the package of a candy bar open. "Not too shabby." He glanced at Two-Bit when he didn't offer some smart response, noticing the distant look in his gray eyes. "You alright, man?"

"Yeah, it's just, ya know Mr. Davis? Well, he's gotten on my case about school an' all," Two-Bit said quickly, pressing his palms against his knees. "Might expel me or somethin' if I don't shape up."

He wasn't sure why he'd divulged this information to Sodapop, but sometimes, the middle Curtis was easy to talk to; he didn't judge or try to tell you what to do. He simply offered his counsel with a laid back understanding of whatever you told him.

"Oh, glory," the younger teen exclaimed. "Well, what do you want to do?"

Two-Bit shrugged lethargically. "Hell, I don't know. I don't really want to quit. Ol' Davis says he can work somethin' out if I decide to start doing the work and stuff."

"Maybe you should." Soda took a sip of his own drink. "Why don't you talk to Ponyboy? He could help you, ya know." He smiled, brown eyes bright. "Might be good for the both of y'all, what do ya say?"

The older teen chuckled. "I say . . . it's gonna take a whole lotta believin' in me, but I'll sure think about it."

Soda grinned, tossing an arm around the older boy's shoulders. "Don't you worry about that none. If it counts for something, I know you can do it."

And even though he was unaware of it, that was just what the comical greaser needed to hear.

Slamming her locker shut, Ella pulled her bag over her shoulder, glad that it was light enough without any books, having finished her homework during her lunch period. She turned on her heel, making to head out, when she noticed a head of white-blond hair coming her way.

"Dallas," she called out, instantly gritting her teeth at the use of his name. It felt bitter inside her mouth.

She didn't really want to talk to him, but she had wanted to briefly summarize what Mr. Davis had said to her earlier that day. Usually, since it was a Friday, Ella would meet Dallas in the parking lot, but they didn't have anything planned that day, so she was lucky to see him before he left.

The hood stopped in front of her, a hard look on his face. "Whatta ya want?"

Ella recoiled only a little, but kept her eyes on his. "I spoke to Mr. Davis this afternoon—"

"And?" He sounded bored, or annoyed, though she wasn't sure which. Maybe both.

"And he told me that you passed, but that you, we, needed to keep up the tutoring," she explained in one breath, pursing her lips. "I didn't know if he spoke to you or not."

Dallas snorted. "He did, sweets. I'm way ahead of you."

Of course he did. Ella mentally kicked herself. The towheaded greaser seemed agitated about something, and she didn't want to press him any further. In fact, she was actually sorry she had even attempted to reach out to him in the first place.

"Oh," she mumbled as Dallas brushed past her, heading toward the doors.

"That all?"

"I guess," she answered. "I just wanted to let you know that he spoke to me about it, too. And I wanted to know what you wanted to do about it . . . continuing, I mean."

The blond paused, jerking around to give her a cool stare. "You got a personality disorder or somethin'?" At her baffled expression, he glared. "You act like I'm the biggest pain in your ass, and the other fucking day, you're . . . decent. Now you're acting like we're friends or some shit. What's yer deal, girl?"

Ella stared, dumbstruck. "I was being nice to you because it was your birthday." Her eyes immediately broadened, having forgot that he didn't know that she knew about it. His eyes were piercing hers, questioning, and she bit her lip. "I saw it in your file."

"The fuck did you just say?"

"Your—"

He was in her face then. "Who the hell gave you permission to snoop around my records, huh?" When she didn't offer a reply, the hood shoved her back into the lockers, causing her bag to drop off of her shoulder. "Stay the fuck away from me." With that, he walked away, kicking her bag across the floor along with some of the items that had spilled out.

Ella swallowed the lump in her throat, unaware that she was crying, tears falling down her cheeks.

Dallas drove out of the school parking lot, his teeth grinding against each other. He couldn't stand that bushy-haired bitch. Who the fuck did she think she was?

He wasn't stupid; he'd figured that the little punk had gone and snooped through his files intentionally, and he wondered why the hell she would do it in the first place—certainly not to find out when his birthday was.

Still . . . it didn't stop Dallas from being pissed off. The broad had no fucking right. None. He'd wanted to hit her, but he hadn't. He didn't exactly find it tuff to go around beating on women, although shoving them off at places like Buck's was something different entirely.

He wouldn't ever raise his hand to a girl like that. But fucking Ella . . . boy, he'd wanted to rip her a new one, and he knew he had to get out of there before he did something he would later regret—not that Dallas Winston ever regretted anything.

He needed to hit something, though. Fucking Davis had pissed him off, that fucking Soc in his English class, fucking Two-Bit ditching out early, and now Ella—stupid fucking broad. His jaw clenched, eyes blazing in pure anger. He needed to find Shepard, pay him the hell back for his snide ass remarks about his "school boy lifestyle."

Yeah, Shepard sounded like just the guy he wanted to pound his fists into.

He'd miss Ponyboy's race, but that didn't matter now—Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit would likely be there cheering him on or whatever.

All he wanted to do was vent his anger by beating the shit out of someone. Pursing his lips, he headed downtown where Shepard's outfit haunted in search of the hood himself.

After her shift, Ella headed home, still feeling upset and angry about her run-in with Dallas Winston. It had only been a few hours since the incident, but the teen wasn't feeling any better. She knew what she had done was wrong, low even, but it was solely for good intentions.

She hadn't meant to snoop—not in the literal sense anyway.

The brown-haired girl had spent the majority of her time at the store moping about, mostly out of pure frustration. Jan had noticed and inquired if she was alright. Usually, Ella would never bring anyone into her problems, but she'd been so upset with herself that she told Jan everything.

The older women seemed sympathetic, but there wasn't much she could do to console her distressed co-worker. It was moments like this when Ella wished her mother was around more often so she could just talk to her, but she'd worked too much and rarely saw her daughter.

Jan had merely encouraged her to go and do something for herself, but the teenager wasn't sure what there was to do. She had no homework to busy herself with, there was nothing interesting on the tube, and she didn't feel like making herself dinner; she was sure she couldn't stomach food with the way she was feeling right then.

Tossing her bag onto her bed, Ella flopped onto her stomach, blowing a stray piece of her hair away from her face. When had life become so dull that she couldn't even find entertainment in something worthwhile?

Jerking her head to the side, she noticed a folded piece of paper poking out from the top of her bag and she reached over to see what it was, before realizing it was Craig's number. A smile brushed her lips as she remembered what a nice time she'd had with him a week ago at The Nightly Double.

Ella walked out to the kitchen where the main rotary was located, before taking a breath and dialing the digits on the paper.

"Hello?" a voice answered, and Ella's heart began beating a little harder.

"Craig?" she asked, even though she could tell that it was him.

A pause. "Yes, who's this?"

"Ella Mitchell," she replied slow-like. "Um, I was wondering if you still wanted to get together tonight, maybe . . . ?"

"Of course!" he replied with enthusiasm. "There's a party going on at Buck's place tonight. Some of my friends were going with their girls for fun. You want to come with?"

And through her frustration and hurt, Ella agreed absently. She wasn't even sure why she had agreed to go, or why she had even bothered to call Craig in the first place, even though she really liked him. Was she really that desperate to get away from her problems?

Glory, it was only Dallas Winston.

Still, she was determined to forget about that no-good hoodlum. She was going to have a good time with a nice boy who treated her decently.

But I won't run

I'm not ashamed

It's gonna take more than this for me to break

Thank you all so much for the comments and reviews! I've been trying to respond to everyone, so if I missed you, I sincerely apologize. This also goes for any of you who have read and reviewed my other stories on here. Your feedback is so very much appreciated! I'm glad that you're all enjoying this story so far. :3

Happy Friday The 13th!

—Cat