Author's Note: I was worried I wasn't going to get this out in time for the Wednesday update, but here it is! This is more fun than writing college essays, anyway.

We're like…creeping to the end here, guys. We have five chapters after this, one of which is the epilogue. It's crept up on me!

Happy reading :)

XXXXX

"Thanks for meeting with me, fellas."

Tim was sitting in his makeshift office in the back of Buck's. He'd called the five of us in for some mysterious meeting. Even Pony, who didn't look right in this room full of thugs. Once upon a time, this kid wouldn't've been allowed within a hundred feet of this place. Nowadays, with him hanging around Curly, things are…different. And this whole situation felt too similar to how it did back in the fall, when it was just me and him in here.

"Ya know," Steve sighed, sitting across from Tim, "you ain't Fat Tony. So you can shove this act up your ass."

Tim briefly looked my way before speaking to this. "Funny you should bring that up, Randle. Cuz it seems this wop – "Tim pointed to me – "has attracted a mobster."

"That's old news," Soda drawled, waving him off. Darry was hovering dangerously in the corner, and Ponyboy was just…hovering. "Where've you been, Shepard? Mars? If you'd paid attention, you'd'a known what was up."

"That so?" Tim asked sarcastically, lighting up a cigarette. "Well, I guess the papers haven't mentioned it, and I guess I can't trust y'all to keep me up-to-date on this sort of thing," he spat, sparing me a glance. "This sorta shit affects all of us."

"How so?" Darry asked. "What – he's come after you?"

"No." He blew a perfect smoke ring. "At least, not yet. But the longer he stays in town, the more at-risk we all are. So – what're you gonna do about it, Mathews?"

I pulled up a chair and lounged next to Steve. "Oh, I dunno. Two-thousand dollars ain't just gonna fall into my lap now, is it?"

"It most certainly is not," Tim drawled. "And I ain't giving you any of my money, that's for damn sure. So – why's he down here?"

"Because of my old man. That's him who owes them the money."

"So why don't he take care of it?"

I huffed a laugh. "'Cause I suspect he's in the seventh circle of hell just about now, or somewhere near it."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Dead?"

I smirked. "As a doornail."

"Condolences."

I shook my head. "You don't mean that. Shove it up your ass, Timmy." He scowled at the old nickname. "Look – we don't owe you anything. Y'all can watch your own asses just fine, and you know it. This was a goddamn waste of time." I stood up fast, making the chair wobble and almost fall over. You're on your own."

I turned to leave, but Darry put a hand on my shoulder and kept me back. "These guys are allies," I hissed in my ear. "What are you doing?"

"Standin' up to Tim fucking Shepard. Don't tell me you're too pussy to do the same."

Darry's face was a mix of anger and confusion, and in the smokiness of that dark room, the yellow light cast across his face, he looked about ready to go off. Like he was gonna pull out a tommy gun (but from where? Underneath that skin-tight shirt?) and mow everybody down. But not really. He didn't let go of me, and he didn't stop looking at me, but he said, "Two-Bit's right. This ain't none of your business, Tim. It's personal."

"Darry…" Pony pleaded, like he was really scared, and hell – I kinda was, too, for some reason – but Darry stood his ground. And by the way Soda and Steve were starting to creep towards the door, I knew they had our backs, too. And I knew Pony would follow us, no question.

"Dumbass move, Curtis," Tim called, and a couple of his guys stood like they were gettin' ready for a fight. "I'll take care of him myself."

"Ain't your fight, Shepard. Stay the fuck outta it – this is a family matter."

I wondered if he was speaking on my family's behalf, or if he meant something more by it, but he just let go of my shirt and stomped out, and the rest of us followed him. We walked out of there, all of us in a huff because like I've said a million times – Tim Shepard is a fuck. Who does he think he is, bossing us around like that? Tim's a nobody, really, trying to be somebody. But he sure does a convincing job of it.

"You ain't listenin' to him, are you?" Pony asked me, referring to Tim. "He's just an ass."

"I know, kid," I sighed. "Don't worry about me."

"Yeah, well, we need to worry about this, now that Shepard's stuck his nose into it," Steve grumbled. "This is personal business, is it not?"

"Is it not? Man, who are you? Shakespeare?"

"Shuddup, Sodapop. But I'm right, ain't I?"

"Yeah, you're right," Darry spoke up. "Tim doesn't like outsiders in his turf, that's for damn sure. But this ain't Two-Bit's fault, is what he ain't getting."

"So you think he's gonna go after him?" Soda asked. Darry snorted.

"Hell no. Tim's got a lousy poker face. He's scared shitless."

I narrowed my eyebrows and held out my hand against Darry's chest to get him to stop walking. And when we stopped, the rest of the gang stopped. "Say that again," I said.

"He's scared shitless…?"

"No," I shook my head. "The other part."

"That he's got a lousy poker face?"

"Yeah! That."

"Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

I grinned, and I was certain it was about to split my face in half. "Darry Curtis, I think I just found the solution to our problems."

XXXXX

"Bridget!"

When she turned and saw my truck, she instantly lie up and made her way over to me. I smiled back at her. "Hey, Two-Bit! What's up?"

"Let's go driving."

Bee cocked her head. "What, right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"…why?"

"I need to hear about this idea of yours. I wanna help you, Bridget."

She turned a bit pale. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have homework," she lied.

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"Well, no -"

"Then you ain't got homework! C'mon now."

"Just let me call my dad. Lemme call him."

"Fine, then. I'll drive ya to a phone." So we drove to the DX, and I dropped her off and idled out front while I waited for her. Not a minute later, Sodapop comes outside. "Man, what're you doin', leavin' your station like this? Tsk, tsk, Sodapop Patrick."

"Funny. Say – what're you doin' here? You're just sittin' out here."

"That I am. You've got good eyes there, Soda."

"Again – funny. Seriously, man, what's up? Bee Stevens just bolted in there askin' to use the phone, and you're the only car out here." Speak of the devil, Bee came out right at that moment, looking a bit frazzled. Her steps slowed when she saw Sodapop looking between me and her. "Where's your car, Bridget?" Soda asked, all confused.

"She's ridin' with me," I finally answered, then opened her door so she could climb on in.

Sodapop looked beyond himself. He looked confused, and he was staring at me like I was a Martian or something. I knew Steve was on to me. I shoulda figured he'd tell Soda everything. "What's goin' on?" Soda asked. "Two-Bit, what's going on, huh? Somethin' I should know about?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, silently asking What the fuck, man? What aren't you telling us? Seriously – what the fuck? Why is this chick riding with you?

"It ain't like that, Soda! It ain't nothin'!"

Bee leaned across me and looked and Soda real sorry-like. "I'll tell you later, Sodapop," she promised. And suddenly, I remembered. All the little things Soda had said about her. About how they'd danced together at that party. But the way he was looking at her then – it wasn't the way he'd looked at Sandy. No, this was different. "It'll all make sense later."

Sodapop stared at me a second longer. I stared right back at 'im. "Steve was right," he whispered, and I think I could see the ghost of a smile on his face. Not wanting to deal with that shit, I sped off, not responding, and noticing Bee looking glumly in the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" I asked.

"He might know," she sighed. "Like Vickie knows."

Might? He did. I was pretty certain of that now. "Speakin' of Vickie – you need to tell me, as you put it, everything, Bridget."

"Everything," she repeated. "Where should I start?" she asked, laughing nervously. It seemed obvious to me.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"You sure you wanna hear it?"

"Sure am. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just awfully long. Do we have the time?"

I gestured to the road ahead of us. We could've kept driving forever, leave this all behind. But that probably wasn't the best idea. "Plenty of places to drive, Miz Bee."

"Okay, then. I'll tell you."

"Spill it then, sister."

Turns out, she was right – the whole thing was awful long. It was everything with her father – quitting his job, moving them out here – and that first day of school, when she met me and Missy Redar and Cherry Valance and – ugh – Vickie Harper. Being told she was better and getting all confused by this whole rivalry down here when in the past, she didn't even get noticed. Screwing around with Evie. Meeting Jerry. Going to that party at the river bottom, and then getting together with him at the party. I'm sure she'd tell it all better, and I'll let her, but jeez.

"It's all downhill from there."

"Why's that?"

"Ya know, after that party at Vickie's, I think that's when everything went to shit. That's when your friend Johnny killed Bob, then Dallas and Johnny died. Remember when you got into that fight?"

"Which one?"

"The one where I was present."

"Oh," I mumbled, remembering pinning Matt Watson's body to the lockers, her and her friends looking on. "I do. Why?"

"I could've sworn you were gonna hate me after I ratted you out."

I shook my head. "You still don't quite get it, do you? I could never really hate you, Bridget. And shoot - I was askin' for it. You did what you thought you had to do."

"But what about what you said? About what you were gonna do with me, how you didn't know? What about that?"

Well, I couldn't exactly say I remembered that. "I dunno. I don't really remember saying that anyhow. Anyways, keep talkin'. What else has caused this shitstorm?"

"Two-Bit."

"What?"

"I don't think you really want to know that."

"I think I do," I sang. "C'mon – what's so bad that you're afraid of tellin' me?"

I wish I could've seen her face, because I would bet good money that she was biting down on her lip and pulling gently at her hair, unfurling one of those curls and letting it bounce back. "Two-Bit, I think…I think a lot of this happened because of you," she whispered. "I wouldn't have gotten into this mess if I hadn't…if you and I…"

"Because of me, huh?" I wondered, cutting her off. I didn't want to let her finish that, afraid of what she'd say.

"Yeah. Because of you."

"So you're in this little romantic bind because of me?" I asked, finally turning to look at her for a moment. She shrugged.

"I suppose it may be. And me, too. And Jerry. Just because he's…him. And me, because I decided to spend all my time with you, basically. And you, because you're you, too."

"Well, gee."

"I know."

"It's not your fault. This isn't about fault. It's about…well, it's about chance, isn't it?" She wondered, and I remembered that conversation. Chance. Faith. I knew what she was trying to say. "I want you to know that."

"I know," I said, and I did. "Hell, none of this would've happened if…ya know, if I hadn't…you know what I'm trying to say."

"I do. I know. But, Two-Bit, I really need you to understand. You didn't do anything wrong. I did. I'm the one who's with Jerry…or, maybe Vickie pushed me into that. Nice as he is, I…given the choice between you and him…"

"I get it. And knowing her, she prolly did push you two together. That's what she does, Honey Bee. That's her game. She was workin' at you from day one, kid."

And wasn't that the awful truth. Bridget Stevens was a bit…malleable. And I hated the thought of someone taking advantage of that.

"Remember how I told you I had an idea on how to get back at Vickie?" she asked.

"Mhm."

"I'm not gonna tell you what it is."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I won't tell you. Because I don't care anymore. I don't care if people know about you and me. Maybe I even want it."

"Well, Jesus. Then I guess this was just honesty hour then, huh?"

"Guess so."

I found that I had driven us in a huge loop around Tulsa just for us to end up back at the high school. Figures. "Let's hop out."

"Okay."

The weather was getting warmer again, and that was a welcome change. It'd been a brutal winter, in more ways than one. We walked around front, to the front steps, and Bee grabbed my hand. I grinned down at her.

"Thank you, Miz Bee."

"For what?"

"For coming here."

She couldn't look at me when she said, "You're welcome. I, uh – knowing you, has made it better. So – thank you for that."

"Really?" I asked, teasing. "I thought I made your life a living hell, or some shit."

"Sometimes," she laughed. "But, these days, more often than not…" she trailed off and shrugged. "I'm glad I met you, is what I'm trying to say." She was swinging our arms back and forth, and it was just another thing that was so un-Kathy-like that it made my heart ache. Bridget was a real genuine person, more so than I could ever be. "Do you remember when Jimmy told me you hated me?" She asked, out of the blue.

"Yeah," I drawled. "I do."

"Did you ever wonder why Jimmy wasn't in class for a while after that?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. That was so long ago. That was forever ago. George Washington was alive when that happened. That was a whole different Two-Bit Mathews that beat that little shit up. One that didn't know he was falling ass-over-teakettle for a girl way out of his league yet. One that took his buddies and just about everything and everyone for granted. Funny, how long nine months can feel.

"About that, uh...I've got some secrets of my own, ya know," I stammered, and Bee's eyebrows shot up.

"Like what?"

I gestured for her to sit down. So she sat. On the front steps of Will Rogers High School. Of all places. And I paced back and forth in front of her. I didn't know what to say. What would this chick do when I told her Steve Randle and I pounded Jimmy Hopper's head in because of what he did to her in front of the whole class? Because he made her cry. Because no matter what she tries to tell you, Bee Stevens is a big ol' softy who don't belong in a world like ours – the one she'd been dropped into. She wasn't made for all of this back and forth, this dog-eat-dog world. Not that she hasn't tried – and really, she's kept her chin up pretty damn high through all this.

She's an impressive gal.

I sat down on the step below her. "I didn't wanna tell you. I can take care of things."

"I know you can," she said slowly, agreeing, I guess. "So?"

"So," I drawled, "I took care of him."

Her face went a bit slack. Oh, man. All these months of trying to get her to see me as a decent guy, and now this. But I couldn't lie to her. "You mean...Two-Bit, what did you do?" she whispered, looking a bit scared. I couldn't help the long, hard stare I gave her. It wasn't her fault. It was almost nineteen years of shit like this. And it was a whole city's-worth of troubles being heaped upon her shoulders.

"Bridget," I sighed, "I beat him up, okay? I found him later that night, and I whaled on him. He couldn't see outta his left eye for a week. That's what I did."

She didn't speak for a few minutes. It was the longest few minutes between us that I've experienced since that incident with Jimmy. She just stared off across the parking lot, working her jaw. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but I figured that doing that might just piss her off.

"Why?" she finally whispered. "Why did you do that?"

I could only shrug. "He deserved it. I ain't never heard a guy talk that lousy to a broad. I mean... a gal shouldn't hafta put up with that, 'specially in front of a bunch of people."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I-I dunno...it just wasn't somethin' you needed to know about." It wasn't something I had wanted her to know about, either.

Her lips were twisting in a small smile. "Thank you, Two-Bit," she murmured, surprising me completely. Thank you? "You really don't understand...I mean, you really don't." She took a deep breath. "You never will understand how much I appreciate this. Seriously."

But I think I was starting to understand. The way her eyes had misted over; how genuinely glad she was I had done it. I've said before that Bee doesn't seem as if she's always had people exactly treating her kindly. Hell, she told me that day in my truck. She told me without having to say much more other than Bob Sheldon hadn't ever been very nice to her. Or when she blushed as deeply as she did whenever anybody flirted with her. Why she was clinging to her status. I don't understand why, and I don't think I ever will, but I get the impression that Bridget Stevens hasn't had an easy go of it. In her own way. It makes absolutely no sense to me because in my eyes, she's perfect. But I guess some people see her – her kinky hair, her intimidated eyes, the way she holds her tiny, willowy body – and sees somebody who's easy to pick on. Screw that. I'd fight everybody in the great state of Oklahoma to protect her from shit like that.

"No problem, Miz Bee," I said simply. "I figger I owed you one anyways."

And then it was quiet again. A car drove by every now and then. There was a breeze kicking up. We didn't look at each other, just sat there together.

"Well," she eventually sighed, breaking the long silence. "Thanks again, Two-Bit. It really means a lot."

A second later, I felt her press her lips to my cheek, linger for a second, then pull away. Nothing special, really. But suddenly, it felt wrong. Not because I didn't like her, didn't want her doing that. But like I said – I don't want anyone to hurt her. And that includes me. I don't get it, either, alright? So don't look at me like that. I know, I know: one day, I want her, the next day, I still want her – but I need her to keep away from me. And this felt like she was giving in. I shook my head.

"Don't do that," I whispered. "Don't ever...I just…I couldn't..." I shot back up and whipped around to face her. "Don't ever do that again, Stevens," I warned, giving her no further explanation as she stared up at me, gaping.

"Why can't I?" she asked, sounding disappointed and sorry. Like she thought she'd done something wrong. She hadn't. She hadn't. She was doing everything right, and the closer we got…I could only wordlessly shake my head again. She couldn't get caught up with me. She couldn't. Not when mobsters show up at my door and Tim Shepard rides my ass and I get in fights and drink and am marked to end up just like my old man. She deserves more than that. "So you can kiss me, but I can't kiss you?" she asked, getting defiant.

"You don't understand -"

"Alright!" she barked. "I won't kiss you ever again! Ever! Which means you can't go kissing me, either, and I mean it. I don't want you kissing me."

"Bridget," I sighed. "No. Can't I explain myself?" I asked, trying to laugh it off. "I need you to listen to me –"

"You lead me on," she seethed, fists clenched and resting on her thighs.

"What? No! I didn't lead you on. Why would I do that?" Seriously – why on earth would I do that? Are you seeing something I'm not? I mean, yeah, like I said, some days I want her and some days I know I don't deserve her, but that don't mean I never wanted her to know how I felt.

"Because you're a tool," she spat.

"I ain't a tool!"

"Yes you are!"

"I ain't!" I shouted, and she reared back a bit. I closed my eyes and sighed. "And you wanna know why?"

"Why?" she hiccupped, and then all of a sudden, she was crying. Again.

"I ain't a tool," I whispered, but that didn't sound very convincing, so I started again. "I ain't a tool because of that day. That day I gave you a ride home from the game. Remember?"

She sniffled, rubbing her arms like she was cold, and nodded. "Yeah, I remember," she whispered. "What does that got to do with any of it?"

I sat down again, but a bit further away than before so she could have some space. "It has everythin' to do with it. I wouldn't'a let you in my car if I didn't like you. Hell, I wouldn't've even stopped to convince you to even get in. If I didn't like ya, I woulda just let you walk your sorry ass home. And all those other times, too."

"That still doesn't explain anything," she grumbled, not looking at me but scratching her fingernails over the warmish concrete.

"What don't it explain?"

She looked at me. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes were red. And I felt sorry for making her cry. Because this time was all on me, unlike the other day. I didn't want to make her cry. "It still doesn't explain why you don't want me kissing you."

"I don't want you kissin' me because I couldn't...what would happen to you, Jesus, Bee. I couldn't let it happen."

"What would happen?"

"You know what would happen. You know. You know that you'd become an outcast. If you and me became an item. You've got a good thing goin', peach. Kissin' me means you gave in, that you feel the same way. And I can't let that happen. And that's why."

"But you wanted me to know how you feel," she whispered, like it was all starting to dawn on her. "That…you wouldn't have done all of this. If you hadn't wanted me to know."

"You're right," I conceded. "I wouldn't've. But now…I don't know, Bee. I don't want to hurt you."

"Well. Then you're singin' a very different song than you were in the fall."

I could only smile at her. "So're you."

"I am." There was a soft smile on her face. "Hey - Two-Bit?"

"What?"

"We're alone now, ya know. Nobody would know, so…could you...could I…?"

Bridget was nervous and blushing, but this time, it wasn't because she was upset. Naw. I knew what this was. This was the look of a girl who was head-over-heels. Last time I saw that look on her, it had all been for Jerry Thompson. Not this time. "Yeah," I drawled, knowing what she was getting at. "Ya could."

She wasn't even shy about it. She just wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her and kissed me like it was the last thing she was ever going to do. A desperate, teeth-gnashing, take-your-breath-away kiss, like it was the last chance she'd ever get. Like I wasn't the second boy in her entire life that she'd kissed. When she broke away so we could come up for air and rested her forehead against mine, I could feel myself grinning like an idiot. Because I couldn't help it.

"Kiss your boyfriend like that?" I asked, breathing heavy. She laughed.

"No."

"Good."

Bee rested her head against my shoulder. "Jerry," she breathed. "Poor guy. Couldn't hold a candle to you."

I snorted and smoothed her hair back. "Aw, give the guy a break. It ain't his fault that he is the way he is."

"I know," she breathed. "And I…I couldn't have known."

"Couldn't've known what?"

Bee looked up at me and smiled. "I couldn't've known that any of this would happen." She shrugged. "Even if I wanted it to."

"You did?"

"I think so," she said, detaching herself from me some. "Now that I think about it. Yeah."

Huh. Whuddyah know. "Then what were we waitin' for?"

"I dunno. Like I said – we didn't know. We didn't know anything that happened this year would happened. Maybe all of it had to happen first for us to get here."

I stared at her. Bee looked pretty proud for coming up with that theory. This was a girl that was worried with existing and being able to see the stars and -if you're gonna believe the gossip – apparently reads both Time and Vogue. Can't say I ever believed I knew what I was getting into with her. "Ya know, I'd ask you to prom, but you already got a date," I joked, completely changing the subject.

Bee laughed. "Yeah, right. I know prom's not exactly your thing." She sobered. "I wanna make something real clear, Two-Bit."

"'Course."

"Jerry's a good guy," she said softly. "I want you to know that. Even after all of this. It's not like I was aiming to break his heart – it's just that it ended up that we weren't right, not really. I'm sure I could pretend with him for a long time, maybe even be happy, but that wouldn't be right. Because it wouldn't be honest. And I'm sick and tired of lying, Two-Bit."

"I know you are," I whispered. "So – don't."

"I don't want to," Bee sighed. "Speaking of which – this thing, with Vickie."

I bit back a groan. "What about it?"

"I…I had a horrible idea. When she slipped me that note, about her knowing. I know I could absolutely ruin her, Two-Bit. I could. If the school were to find out. I don't even know how she figured it out, about us. But she did, and…"

"Lemme guess," I drawled. "You were gonna spill her secret at prom."

Bee nodded guiltily. "Yeah. But that was…that was when I was angrier about it than I am now…"

"Why aren't you angry now?"

"Because I don't care," she whispered. "I don't. If she tells, so what? I mean, I'll have to take care of the thing with Jerry…but I dunno. I don't know anymore, Two-Bit."

"We'll figure somethin' out. We always do."

"Who's we?" She asked. "The only thing you and I have ever figured out is that Dallas lied to you about where your buddies were, and that Vickie Harper is a grade-A asshole."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Yeah, that's true enough. But I could take the heat for this, Bee. I'd do that. I could carry this out for you."

Bee's eyes went wide as saucers. "Two-Bit," she said lowly, "you wouldn't."

"I would," I contradicted. "Bee, she's aimin' to make our lives miserable. And she ain't a good person. You don't deserve what she's gonna do to you."

"And that means she does?"

I leaned forward. "Bee." She looked at me straight-on. I think she could tell by my tone that I meant business. "I know a thing or two about payback. Believe me. I know who deserves it and who doesn't."

"Two-Bit."

"And Vickie Harper's had it comin' for a long time."

She shook her head. "All of this is so wrong. What I've done – lying to Jerry, to everybody, to you – it's wrong. I'm a terrible person – "

"No, you're not," I insisted. "You're not. Like you said – you never knew any of this was gonna happen. The heart wants what it wants, Honey Bee."

Man, if looks could kill. "Stop it. I'm serious! Everything we're doing and saying – "

"Bee!" Again, she reared back a bit. I felt bad about all the yelling, but once she gets going, it's hard to stop her. "I don't want Vickie Harper of all the damn people on the planet to make your life any harder. So if she tries to bring you down with her, I'm gonna stop it. Got it?" Bee nodded. "And another thing – if you're so worried about Thompson? Break up with him. You said yourself, you don't really know if you wanna be with him anymore, right?" Another nod. "Then do us both a favor, okay? If he's not who you wanna be with, then don't be with him. It's that simple. If he don't make you happy…" I trailed off, thinking, of all the people in the world, of Kathy. How it should've come to me sooner that if she didn't make me happy, I should've broken it off with her sooner. Saved us both a lot of misery. "Learn from me, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you another time." I stood up, knowing there would be another time. "Honey. You're a big girl. And you ain't stupid – in fact, you're the exact opposite. For your own sake, you need to do what's right for you. And I think you can find a way to do that without hurtin' anybody else. Now, c'mon – let's get you home."

XXXXX

I whistled low. "Lookit you, Stevie-boy. Shoulda brought my camera!"

"Shuddup, Two-Bit."

"Don't worry, y'all – I got mine!" Soda crowed, waving the Curtis's camera in the air and grinning like a madman. "I'd like a few singles, of just you, to send to the relatives. Then we'll get some of you and Evie to frame."

"I hate you," Steve spat, but there wasn't much venom to it. "Don't you got anythin' better to do than take pictures of me?"

"Not really. Now shut up and smile."

I snickered as Steve just scowled at Soda and his camera, Evie watching on in amusement, letting Soda have his fun and forcing Steve to pull the stick out of his ass for two minutes. I wandered back to the kitchen to where Pony was sitting, reading one of his books.

"Hey, Ponykid."

"Hey, Two-Bit."

"Got any wild plans for tonight? Mr. Curly Shepard gonna come callin'?"

Pony grunted. "I don't think so. Maybe. I dunno."

I sat across from him. The kid was aimless. Still. I know it hadn't been that long – not even half a year. But, hell – none of us were quite there yet. Case in point: with Darry working the late shift tonight, there was only four of us here. With Steve about to leave, that would leave the three of us. It was to quiet these days. "We could go out and do somethin'," I offered. When Pony just shrugged, I said, "Or, ya know, you could read. That's, uh, that's always an option."

"Can't read if I'm talkin' to you."

"Talkin' to me? Kid, you've barely said a word."

"Alright, then."

Clearly, he wasn't in the mood, so I sighed and sat back. Soda wasn't going anywhere tonight, not with Steve going out with Evie. Darry and Pony were out. And it's not like prom's really my thing. And it wasn't like I had Bee or Kathy as options.

But there was the whole nuclear option. Blow the whole operation up and spill everything about Vickie and Dallas. Dally was a buddy. But he wasn't a problem anymore. If he were here, I don't know what he'd make of all this. I don't know if he'd think I was fucked up for falling for Bridget, or if he'd, in his own way, understand. So the more I sat there, the more I was convinced that there was no way in hell that I was gonna let Vickie Harper get away with this. I knew what she'd do. She'd use tonight as an opportunity to ruin Bridget's rep, hell – her life. Take away everything from her in one fell-swoop.

But not if I had anything to do with it.

"I'm going to prom."

Pony's head snapped up. "What? You're what?"

"I'm going to prom," I laughed, like it was just that simple.

The kid tried to cock an eyebrow, still not quite getting the hang of the trick. "Whaddya mean, you're going to prom? You and Kathy are on the outs, and it ain't exactly your scene."

"Well. I'm not exactly going to prom, per se. More like...crashin' it."

"You're not," Ponyboy said. "Two-Bit, why? Why ruin it for everyone who actually wants to go?"

"It ain't gonna get ruined," I insisted. "I swear on my father's grave."

"Jesus, Two-Bit."

"Yeah, yeah. Now listen - ain't nothin' gonna happen to anybody."

Ponyboy put his head in his hands. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are...will this...will something happen to you, is what I'm getting at."

"Nothin' that I can't handle, Pony. I'm a big boy, ain't I?"

The line got a weak laugh out of him. "I guess so. I mean, if you went by size. Lookit those shoulders you got." I shrugged said shoulders up and down, and yeah – I guess you could say they were sorta impressive. "Promise you'll tell me how it goes?"

"Promise," I said solemnly. "Scout's honor."

"You ain't no Boy Scout. So I guess this is the next best thing."

And then the kid stuck out his pinkie, like he was seven years old and there was no oath more sacred than this one. I smiled to myself and wrapped my finger around his. Kid was bony.

"I'm off!" I announced to the room, Sodapop giving me a funny look as I waltzed out the door.

"Good luck!" Pony called, and I could faintly hear Sodapop asking him what the hell I needed the good luck for.

XXXXX

Look – we've still got a lot of bases to cover. Just because I ruined Vickie Harper's reputation all in one night don't mean we're out of the woods yet. But it's like I told Darry – I think I've found the solution to all of our problems.

Well – at least, one of them. Allow me to explain.

XXXXX

AN: Fat Tony was a real guy, not just a character from TheSimpsons, and he was active in the sixties. And "wop" is a slur for "Italian." Of course, the use of it in this story does not reflect my own feelings.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have thoughts, be sure to let me know!