I know this chapter may not be up to par, and I apologize in advance.

I read the book after Pony let me borrow it on my birthday. It was really good, too. I wondered how someone could write a book like that, a book about being young when she wasn't as young as that girl. I cried at the end too, which I haven't admitted to anyone except Ponyboy. We talked about the book for a long time after I read it, and I told him that I liked my nickname even more so now than before. After that, I tried talking like Scout from the book, but it didn't work too well for me. Because, I was fifteen and that girl was a lot younger, so I suppose the slang didn't work as well. I still visited Johnny's grave often, very often in fact, and talked to him a lot. Most of the time, it was about all the things I was worried about. And even though I knew he couldn't talk back, he was dead, it was a relief to just get it off my chest. I wanted to tell Ponyboy some of the stuff, really, but it just seemed like the sort of thing to tell your dead best friend instead.

One time I was visiting Johnny I thought about him as a dead best friend, then decided I should give it a rest for a few days, because that was really weird. The thing was, a grave was a hell of a lot better listener than most people were. There was a lot to talk about, especially the fact that me and Pony were startin' to get more serious so it seemed, and I didn't know what to think of it. Not only was Ponyboy basically the first real boyfriend I ever had, but he was also my best friend, which made it hard for me to go further into the relationship. My former fears from the beginnin' were rushing back to me. What if that changed? What if he didn't want to talk to me anymore? What if he stopped trusting me? And then I'd think about all the things I was telling some dead guy and not him, and the fear would get stronger. I was already breakin' those trust ties, but that wasn't even the fault of the relationship! Or was it? Naturally, I never told Pony that I was scared again, because that would just upset him. Besides, he was already really stressed from workin' so much.

He was startin' to look like Darry every time I saw him. He was always irritable, and all he wanted to do was sit down and do nothin'. Now, don't get me wrong, it was real nice to just sit real close up to Pony…but I liked to talk sometimes too. I guess that was why I talked to some grave of a person who used to be best friends with my best friend and boyfriend instead, but that really wasn't an excuse. If I really wanted to talk, Ponyboy wouldn't deny me a conversation. I knew that better than anybody. Two-bit seemed to notice that it was gettin' to me, which was surprisin'. Two-bit didn't usually take into account feelings of others, not unless it was obvious they were upset. Because he didn't like hangin' out with mopes, and he didn't like talkin' about feelings. Suppose it was an awkward position for him to be in. Anyway, he actually asked me about it one day, looking as uncomfortable as I ever saw him.

"Saw you talkin' to, well," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not Ponyboy, I mean, you get it…"

"So what?" I asked him defensively.

"I guess…just…why?" He looked at me with something that came close to concern. I was proud of him for the look, but still defensive. "Scout, it's…I don't know, weird."

"I just thought-" I cut off, looking down. What had I thought? I don't think I even thought anything, just one day I was visiting his grave and started talkin'. "I know it's weird and all…but-" I cut off again. Damn it, why was this so hard to explain?

"Ponyboy still talks, y'know." and…he had got it without me even saying it. How? Because he's a jokester, not stupid! Dang it. This is what I got for talkin' to some dead guy instead of my best friend. I sighed.

"I know! I just don't wanna bother him. He's always so stressed-"

"And do you think it'd make it better if he ever found out you would rather talk to his dead best friend rather than him?" I gaped at him, not because he was wrong, but because I couldn't think of a good enough retort to his correct response.

"Look, I'm in no way some sort of relationship expert, I mean, you've seen how most of mine end-" he shrugged, offering a half-smirk, I didn't return it. "But, I do know that most of them broke it off with me because all I wanted was-" he stopped, looking at me cautiously then continued, and he altered what he was gonna say at first. I figured I knew exactly what he was gonna say in the first place. "….was to not talk about stuff."

"This is different-"

"No, Scout, it isn't!" Two-bit snapped, and I started, surprised at his sudden fierceness. "Look, I'm goin' to make this a lot more simple for you to understand," He stopped walking and turned to face me, and I was shocked once again to see that he looked really irritated.

"Ponyboy really likes you, you should hear the way he talks about you. And he's the best goddamn friend I got, understand?" I nodded briefly, opening my mouth to speak, but he wasn't done. "And if you hurt him from being stubborn then you're out."

"Out?"

"Of our gang. You can go join up with Tim or something, because no matter how much some people like to hide it. We all care about Ponyboy." He said this with a sigh, running his hand through his hair and standing up straighter.

"Alright, Two-bit, I got it." I frowned, opening my mouth to say something else, but then closed my mouth again. Two-bit was leavin' me unnaturally speechless this whole conversation, and I didn't appreciate it at all. Instead of talkin', I just turned and walked away from him, not lookin' back. I didn't know what had gotten into Two-bit, but it wasn't nice. He had turned from the usual jokester that he was into someone who was serious and pretty darn intimidatin'.

After our little conversation, I avoided having lingerin' conversations with Two-bit. He didn't act like we ever had that talk, but was his normal old self, actin' like life was a huge joke or somethin'. He was the only one who could really make Ponyboy laugh, and I was grateful for that. After talkin' to Two-bit, I tried talkin' to Pony like he suggested. But, we never had any time alone after that. It was like everyone had heard of the argument and were refusin' to let me redeem myself. There were several times where I'd find him layin' in bed, and I'd lay down beside him and start to say somethin', but then someone would burst into the room and start shoutin' or somethin'. After a few days of this, I just gave up. If I found Pony alone in his bed, I'd lay beside him, take his hand, and just wait for that person to come into the room yellin'. Usually, someone did after moments, but there was one lucky night that no one came in. I waited in silence for five minutes, then ten minutes, then fifteen, and still no one. That's when I decided waitin' was stupid and if I kept doin' that I was bound to get interrupted as usual. So, I spoke.

"Ponyboy,"

"What's up?" he asked. I shifted so that I was on my side, head propped up by my elbow. He was starin' at the ceilin', but when he noticed me shiftin' he did the same thing. When he stared at me, waitin' for me to tell him something, I froze. What was I supposed to say now? What was I supposed to talk to him about? He looked willing to talk about anything, like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and I felt bad for shovin' him out. He was so great, and I was treatin' him like some sort of bomb.

"I'm worried." I blurted out after a long silence, and instantly regretted it. He frowned and sat up completely, looking at me with a furrowed brow.

"Worried about what?"

"Us…" I said sheepishly. He sighed softly, looking away and across the room. There was a lamp on, giving us a little bit of light, and by what I saw of him he was reactin' about as much as I expected. "Just that…we're gettin' more serious and-"

"Look, Scout," he said very quietly, turnin' to face me. "If you don't want to get more serious, we can take a step back. That's easy."

"But-"

"Just listen." he pressed. "But I need to know something."

"What?"

"Are you going to freak out every time we might be getting more serious than you are used to?" I frowned at his question. It was a reasonable question, it was, but something I hadn't expected him to ask. And something I wasn't sure I could really answer. So, I didn't. I stay silent and just stared at him. Was I going to freak out every time we might get more serious? Was I going to freak out every time it seemed like I liked him a little more than the day before? Was it going to be some sort of head-aching worry every single time this happened? And as I looked at him I got the answer. He looked stressed, annoyed, worried, but most of all just tired. When I saw how he looked, I wanted to make it better. I wanted him to be happier, and to quit workin' so hard because it was bad for him, and to tell him that I-

"No, I'm not." I told him, sitting up as well and shifting to sit with my legs over the side of the bed. He moved to sit beside of me, legs over the side as well. "I'm just not used to it is all."

"Neither am I." Ponyboy replied, putting his arm around my shoulders.

"I got something else to say," I said, frowning.

"Shoot."

"I-"

"Hey!" I was interrupted by Two-bit, who had just slammed the bedroom door open and had a huge grin on his face. Obvious as the sun's bright, Two-bit was drunk. He collapsed onto his back on Soda's bed, which was right next to Pony's, and laughed. "What's up Pon?"

"Sorry Scout," Ponyboy whispered, shaking his head and standing up. He disappeared from the room, and I figured he was probably getting some water.

"You drunk, Two-bit?" I asked with a small smile. He turned his head to look at me, then sat up and looked around the room in confusion.

"Where'd Pony go?"

"To get you some alcohol-killer." Ponyboy replied as he came back into the room with a glass of water. Two-bit laughed again as Ponyboy forced the water down his throat. I stood slowly and headed towards the door. When I was in the doorway, I turned back and waved briefly.

"Talk to you later, Ponyboy!" I called, then hurried out before he could call me back. I knew that if he did, he'd insist I finish what I was going to say before, and I wasn't exactly sure if I could anymore. That was a moment of bravery I had experienced, and it was unknown if I'd ever see that bravery again. As I walked home, I thought about going to visit Johnny, but then I pushed that thought from my head. I had to stop doing that.