Hinton owns The Outsiders.


"So what'd you do?" Jamie asked, a bit more serious than she had been… but that was soon lost. "I bet he had a reason for not telling you… Wait, is this the deceit you and Bobby were talkin' about before?"

"No."

She made an "o" with her mouth. "Oh. So what'd you do?"

"What any normal sixteen year old girl would do. I wrote him a note."


I wished I had skipped French class and gone out with Evie for a coke like she had suggested, but no, I had to be good… because I was always the voice of reason in our friendship. I banged my head on the desk lightly. "Why, why, why…?" I muttered.

"Why what?" I heard Patty ask, making me look up. She smiled, greeted me with a "Hey."

"Hi, Patty," I greeted, defeated. This was bugging me way too much and I still hadn't talked to Sodapop yet. I was afraid to, and his smile was so much brighter today now that it was off his chest, which only made me feel even worse for being upset over this. He did tell me, right? I could have still been in the dark about it all. I let my head hit the desk again.

"Well, hello…" I heard Patty say quietly, only it wasn't to me, and it was in her "Golly, but is he a hunk" voice.

I looked up. Well, hello

The new boy in our French class was a real looker, if I had to admit it, and it at least distracted me for a moment of what I was dealing with. He was standing in the front of the classroom, a notebook folded in between one hand and a pencil in the other.


"Sandy, you had a boyfriend," Jamie teased. "What were you doin' lookin' at other boys, huh?"

We shared a laugh, but for different reasons. "Hey, I didn't exaggerate about him before for no reason. He flirted with some of those girls right back, and if he could do that, then I could agree with Patty on something."


"Classe," Madame said, getting the whole class's attention. "Ceci est Michael, et il est nouveau."

Patty leaned across the isle from me. "What'd she just say?"

I shrugged. "Beats the heck outta me. I think his name is Michael." I couldn't wait until next year when I didn't have to take a language anymore—I barely knew my French numbers! It was a miracle I had a C in the class, but I think that was just because Madame was friends with my mom, and at times my mom could be a bit intimidating. I mean, I wasn't complaining, but Patty understood it on paper at least and she was still only pulling the same grade as me. She at least passed her tests.

Madame cleared her throat. "Patricia, Vous avez quelque chose que vous voudriez partager avec la classe?"

Poor Patty. "What?" she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible, but only caused the class to emit a wave of giggling and whispering.

Madame smiled, almost evilly as she tried to keep a copasetic composure. "Please sit in the front today, Miss Smith." She looked at the new boy, Michael, her expression softening a bit. "You can sit next to Sandy, just behind where Patty usually sits."

He nodded and started walking towards the desk, shooting Patty a smile as they squeezed past each other. More whispers and giggles. Patty always did know how to cause a scene.

"Classe! Votre attention, s'il vous plaît!"

My face fell, as it did most days in this class. "What?" I muttered under my breath.

Michael leaned over slightly. "She said, 'Class, your attention please!'"

I looked at him, smiling slightly, knowing my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He was here all of five minutes and he knew what she was saying. Why could I not get it when I was in French for the past two? "Thanks," I whispered back.

The teacher started talking in French again, only this time faster and even the smarter students were raising their eyebrows in confusion. She sighed, grabbed a stack of papers off her desk, and started over in English. "You're lucky to have come when you did, Michael," she said, passing back quizzes. "We're starting a new unit today; although, I'm not sure that's the best idea for some students." She stopped at my desk for a brief moment, giving me a pointed look as she placed our last quiz on my desk.

I grimaced. F? I actually studied for that one…

"As I was saying…" Madame continued, but I tuned her out. I was too preoccupied with my grade and Soda telling everyone but me.

I opened my notebook to a fresh page and started writing… in English… to Sodapop. Like I said, I hated French.

'Sodapop,' I wrote. 'So I failed another quiz in French. Who's winning on most failed language quizzes now? I think we might just be tied. Although I guess that doesn't matter much, huh? What with Madame giving me all those extra points. I bet you wish you'd of taken French instead of Spanish now, huh?' I paused and bit on my eraser. What to say, what to say? I was beating around the bush and that wasn't good.

Michael straightened up in his seat and ran a hand tiredly through his brown hair. I couldn't tell if he was middle class or a greaser that didn't grease his hair, but that really didn't matter. I was just avoiding going into a more serious subject with this note.

I placed the pencil to a new line on the paper. 'So . . . we need to talk.' There. I said it. Now I just had to explain myself. Sadly the pencil wasn't budging.

Michael leaned over. "Qu'est-ce vous écrivez?"

I looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Uh, English?"

He chuckled silently and ran his tongue over his bottom lip absently. "I asked you what you were writing."

I squared my shoulders. "Notes," I whispered back matter-of-factly.

He stole a glance at Madame who was up at the board, writing something or another in big, curly letters. I couldn't tell you what a word of it meant. "For class, or for someone else?"

I huffed slightly. Why did he even care? "Someone."

He grinned, and pulled my failed quiz off my desk. "You know, I could help you if you wanted."

"What's the catch?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Be my friend?"


Jamie burst out laughing. "What a line! Man, Sandy, you wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that one."

I shook my head. "I don't even want to know."


I withheld a scoff, and settled for giving him an incredulous look. "Your friend? I don't know how much my boyfriend would like that."

He made a face, and scoffed, waving the notion off. "Not like that. I'm new, remember?"

"Uh huh, sure." I rolled my eyes and turned back to the note.

'How come I was the last one to know about you dropping out?' I wrote, and smiled. That wasn't so hard. 'I don't care that you want to drop out. I just want to know why Steve knew weeks before me. I mean you love me, right? You said it last night. So why'

The fire alarm went off suddenly and the sprinklers opened up on us. I jumped up; my heart was beating a thousand times a second in my chest as I tore the note from my notebook, shoved it into my skirt pocket, and linked arms with Patty as we hurried out of there.


"Well don't that just suck…"

"For my hair it did," I joked. "Got me out of class along with the rest of the school, though."


"Sandy, Patty!" Evie called from the hill. She was standing there with Steve, both of them relatively wet.

"Hey," I greeted as we approached them. I looked at Steve; he was lighting a cigarette and scowling. "Why're you so sour?"

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend and Two-Stupid over there?" he replied and jerked his head to the right.

I looked at the two of them skeptically. "Why…?"

He smiled bitterly. "Go on, go ask them."

I looked between Steve and the other two for a moment before going over to them. "So why's Steve so mad?"

Two-Bit grinned. "You happy to be out of class?"

"Yeah…"

He bowed slightly, and then motioned to Soda who also bowed. "You're welcome."

"You guys set the alarm off?"

Soda grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, don't tell no one though."

I smacked his arm. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Two-Bit chuckled, and started to inch away. "Well, I'm just gonna go see a girl about a date tonight…"

I took the note out of my pocket and started folding it for some reason. "Yeah, bye, Two-Bit," I replied curtly and looked up at Sodapop.

"You ain't really that mad at me, are you?" he asked, placing his hands on my arms and stepping closer to me. "C'mon, I got you out of French class. I know how much you hate that class."

I looked down at my hands. "I wrote you a note."

He let go of my arms and took the note from my hands, giving me a questioning look. "What's it about?"

I shrugged, biting my lip. "Just read."

He met my gaze and held it for a few moments before opening it. He chuckled a bit at the beginning, muttering, "Yeah, we probably are tied…" Then his brow furrowed.

I bit my lip, frowning. Maybe I shouldn't have written it.

"Look, Sandy," he started.

"Hey, Sandy!" a boy called from my left. Both Soda and I turned to see Michael coming towards us.

I managed a weak smile. "Hi, Michael," I greeted, resignedly.

"Who're you?" Soda asked, suddenly defensive. He must have caught the tone in my voice.

"Ah, you must be the boyfriend," Michael said and stuck out his hand. "I'm Michael. I just moved here."

Soda slouched his shoulders slightly, and took his hand reluctantly after a skeptical glance at me. "Well, that's great an' all, but, uh, do you mind? We were kind of talkin'."

Michael cocked an eyebrow and opened his notebook before turning to me. "You forgot this," he said, handing out my failed quiz.

Soda snatched it out of his hand. "Thanks. She appreciates it," he snapped. "That it?"

Michael narrowed his eyes. "No," he told Soda, and turned to me. "I was wonderin' if you thought about what I said."

"Thought about what?" Soda interjected, placing his arm around me.

"Look, buddy, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to her."

"I have a name, you know," I snapped and shrugged Soda's arm off my shoulder. "And no, I haven't thought about it, okay?"

"Why not?"

Soda put a hand out and stepped between us. "Look, I don't know what the hell either of you are talking about, but me an' my girlfriend were talkin'. So fuck off."

Michael glared at him, but walked away nonetheless. "Just think about it, Sandy," he called over his shoulder.


Jamie's eyes widened, amused. "Well. Someone's not happy…"

I laughed. "Yeah, well, ain't that the truth…"


I smacked Soda on the arm. "Why'd you try to jump bad with him, huh? All he was doin' was asking me questions."

"Look, you're the one that wrote the note, you're the one that didn't seem to wanna talk to him, and I didn't like how the guy was talkin' neither. 'Scuse me for lookin' out for you, darlin'. Next time I'll let you handle 'im!"

I glared at him and crossed my arms. "He was returnin' my quiz, Sodapop. And all he was talkin' about was him helping me with French and in return all I got to do is be a friend to him. But I didn't get to think about it. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because all I've been thinkin' about how you say you love me, but I'm the last one to know everything!" I turned and stalked away, back over to Evie and Patty, and together we walked off the school grounds. Last period wouldn't miss us too much.


A/N: Big thanks to aerodynamics and shutupandwrite for the French lessons. I only know some Italian. And for those of you who notice the differences in dialect... there's a point. I promise.

Review, loves, review. :)