A/N: Oh wow. This chapter gave me so many problems. I must have started it a at least five different times trying to get it right. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I thought I'd get it posted finally. I hope it's still enjoyable for everyone. Let me know in a review. I'd really, really appreciate it.

I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing. You're all so awesome. I can honestly say that I wouldn't have gotten this far in this story without you all. It's so cold outside and in my room that my hands have gone numb and it's rather difficult to type; nevertheless, I persevere on for all my darling reviewers!

Just one more quick note for the anonymous reviewer who said that Ozzie and Harriet weren't know of in the sixties. they absolutely were well known. The show "Ozzie and Harriet" ran from 1952 to (I believe) 1964. I considered comparing the family to the Cleavers, but I was always more a Ricky Nelson fan than a Wally fan.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ For the first time in years, school was a welcome release from the weekend. The mood at home was tense after the incident at dinner. Dad blew up at Rosemary twice on Sunday because she burnt his toast and later on threw out the paper before he was done reading it. I stayed completely clear of my father, and was ready to welcome any excuse to leave the house, even it was school.

Even thought I had been looking forward to school, I could barely get myself out of bed to get ready. Eventually I got up and showered. When I finally go down showering, Becca was dressed and had headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

I put on the outfit I had picked out the night before (a black top and grey skirt) and did my makeup and hair. Forty-five minutes later I had effectively achieved the "grease chick" look I was going for. I grabbed my books and headed out of my room.

As I passed through the kitchen, Becca barely looked up from her oatmeal. Dad continued to focus on his coffee. I forced a strained smile and said, "Bye Daddy. Comin' Becca?"

Dad set his coffee down. "Becca's sick. She's not going to school today, so you need to come straight home from school today so she won't be home alone."

I started protesting. My after school social life was very important to. Sometimes that's when I got some of my best flirting done. "Daddy! Why?" I whined. "You and Rosemary gotta work and she'll be home alone all day anyway."

Dad scowled. He didn't like that I was arguing with him. "I'm going in late, at noon. You know today is Rosemary's long. She works at the diner until noon, and doesn't work at the factory until two. She'll be home with Becca, and you'll be home at two-thirty. Becca will only be home a half hour that way."

"Why can't she stay home alone?" I whined.

"Because it's not safe. Now stop arguing. Be home at two-thirty. That's final." Dad left the room in a huff. I cursed and kicked our kitchen table. Becca let out a slight whimper and as tears started flowing, she ran out of the room.

Still fuming, I left and headed on my way to school. I didn't understand why my dad was so protective of Becca. When I was eleven, he didn't give a damn what I did or if I was home alone. He still didn't care about me that way. I supposed it was because Becca was the baby and was still so innocent yet. I just hated being obligated my sister, when I knew she could handle being home alone.

I was still angry when I arrived at school, and I only go more so after I reached my locker. There I found a socy-looking blonde girl attempting to break into my locker.

I stormed over and pushed her away from my locker. "What do you think you're doin'?" I demanded.

The girl's eyes widened and she stammered, "I'm sorry. I was just trying to get into my locker, but it won't open. I'm new here, and."

"I don't care what you are," I spat out angrily. "Maybe it won't open 'cause this is my locker, not yours! Now get the hell away from me!" I was practically shouting by the time I was through. It soc-girl walked away quickly, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she left.

I entered my combination into my locker, opened it and threw my books in. I slammed it shut and immediately found myself face to face with Angela Shepard.

"Goddamn, you sure got rid of that soc awful quick," She commended me with a smile on her face.

I returned the grin. "Well, ya know, scaring soc-girls is one of my favorite activities. So," I said changing the topic as Angela and I started Walking down the hall towards the bathroom. "What'd you do this weekend?"

"Nothin'. I swear, there ain't no guys left anymore. They're all in the slammer or somethin'. I got a little drunk and that's all. I didn't even make out with anyone. But you," she said as we arrived at the girls' restroom. "I hear you got lucky." She headed into the bathroom and I followed.

"Who'd you hear that from?" I asked. Angela peered into a mirror as I sat down on the counter in between sinks. Before Angela could answer, two other girls entered the bathroom. I casually said hello to them as on, Lisa, headed into a stall and the other, Annette, joined me on the counter.

Lisa and Annette were two other grease-chicks and the bathroom we were currently in was a common hangout for greasers. "What's this I hear about you and Two Bit Matthews?" Annette asked me. Angela looked up from the mirror in surprise and asked "Two Bit?"

I was a bit surprised myself. Angel had made it seem like she had heard all about me and Two Bit. "Yeah, sorta. I thought you heard about that already," I said to Angela.

"Hell no," she replied. "Curly said you and Tim fucked."

I blushed what must have been a bright red. "Me and Tim? Naw," I attempted to casually brush it off. "Why'd he say that?"

"He said you brought back some of Tim's clothes." "I didn't have sex with your brother," I said.

"Not that you wouldn't mind," Lisa injected as she flushed the toilette and exited the stall. "Rumor is you're chasin' Tim."

I felt my face grow even more red, but this time I flushed because of anger, not embarrassment. "Who said that? And why're they talking trash about me?"

"So it isn't true?" Lisa asked while offering me a cigarette. Smoking was definitely not allowed in school, and I never really smoked much. But then I thought about all the girls Tim had been with, and all of them that I could think of smoked.

I accepted the cigarette and lit it with the lighter she handed me. "No," I answered her question after I inhaled. "I ain't chasing Tim. We're just pals, that's all." I inhaled again and coughed a little bit. I really didn't like smoking at all, but it would toughen up my image and make me more Tim's type. Besides, it wasn't THAT disgusting.

"Good. I'm glad you and Tim ain't a item or nothin'," Angela said after taking a puff from her own cigarette.

"Why?" I asked slightly offended.

"I dunno. I guess just 'cause you ain't really his type. You just ain't tough enough for my brother."

My face clouded over with anger. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm tough."

Angela laughed. "No you ain't," she replied. "Hell, if you got jumped, you'd probably bawl like a little baby."

My vision was starting to get blurry from my anger. I jumped down from the counter and gave Angela a push. "I'm just as tough as you or any other chick out there. Say that I'm not again, and I'll kick your ass. You stay clear of me from now on. Understand?" I put out my cigarette on the counter where I had been sitting and stormed out.

As I left I heard Lisa say, "Holy shit," Annette mutter, "What's her problem," and Angela curse, "Fucking bitch."

I stomped through the empty halls towards my class. On top of everything else I was going to be tardy. The bell must have rang while I was shouting at Angela. I didn't really know why I got so angry with Angela. She was right. I was tough, but I hated having her judge me. I knew that all the soc's judged me, but it hurt even more to be judged by my own kind.

I didn't get very far down the hall when a voice behind me brought me to a dead halt. "Miss Roberts. Aren't you a bit late for class?" Vice Principal Brewer asked me.

I turned around and gave him my very best innocent face. "Yessir," I replied. "That's why I was hurrying sir."

And why are you late?" he asked, clearly not buying into my innocent look. "Were you smoking in the bathroom?"

"Oh no sir," I replied too m hastily. A questioning eyebrow of his arose, and I rushed to explain. "I don't smoke sir. It's a dirty, nasty, disgusting habit."

"I'm glad you feel that way. So why then are you tardy?"

"Well sir," I faked a blush. "I.uh. I was having feminine problems."

"I see," he said in a awkward voice. "Well go on to class then. I can excuse that." I turned and was about to leave when he stopped me once again. "Oh, Miss Roberts? Isn't that skirt a bit short?"

"I don't think so sir. It was long enough last week," I lied. I knew the skirt was too short for the school's dress code, but in the past I had always made sure not get caught wearing it.

Mr. Brewer nodded and for a split second I thought I was going to get away with it, when he crushed my hopes by saying, "Nonetheless, I need to check and make sure. Please kneel down."

I sighed slightly and knelt. Sure enough, the hemline of the skirt was an inch too short of grazing the floor, and was therefore an inch too short for me to be wearing to school. "As I suspected," he said with a hint of triumph in his voice. "An hour of detention after school today. Now hurry and get to class."

I hustled to my English class and as I got to the door, I slapped myself on the forehead. I was supposed to go straight home. I groaned and entered the classroom, dreading how angry my father was going to be at me once again.