Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Beatles own "Yesterday."

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh, I believe in yesterday

January 3, 1966

Dallas kicked the back of his foot up against Ponyboy's locker. He wasn't exactly feeling too hot, having spent New Years Eve and New Years Day getting plastered. He was barely able to make his way back to Buck's in one piece, having spent the night at some sleazy downtown pub, before getting wasted at Buck's again Sunday afternoon.

Yeah, real intelligent.

Thing was, he needed to drown out the conversation that he had with Ponyboy; it's not that he didn't want to forget about it or anything, but it was too much to consider at once. Besides, he didn't want to keep reliving the night Johnny had died, either.

But here he was, once again, back at Will Rogers High School on a Monday morning. He perked up a little at the sight of Ponyboy heading in his direction, a stack of books in hand. Glory, he sure hoped the kid hadn't spent his entire vacation suffocating himself with school work.

Ponyboy nodded once at the blond. "Hey, Dal."

The older teen motioned to his books. "Why the hell are you carryin' all that shit around?"

"I'm still catching up," he answered. "I used my time over vacation to finally get where I need to be." A sigh. "Darry's been getting on my case about math, and I've been a bit behind on both science and history."

Dallas raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Tell the big man to give ya a break."

The younger boy gave a half smile. "Sure, I'll do that . . . when I want to get my head kicked in."

Ponyboy wished that Darry would quit harping on him as much as he had been. Sure, they were getting along just fine and everything, and he knew that Darry was only doing it because he cared and wanted him to succeed, but Ponyboy knew the score, too. Darry, though, was too hard on himself—as much as he was on his youngest brother.

He continued on, glancing up at Dallas. "So, is Ella still your tutor?"

The blond teen scowled. "What'd I tell ya, kid?"

Glory, he hadn't seen Dopey Ella since that little incident which happened almost two weeks ago. He didn't really care, though, hadn't even given it much thought, either. What did Ella matter to him? She was a pain in the ass, that was about it.

"Well, you ought to talk to her," Ponyboy replied, closing his locker. "I don't know what happened with y'all, but—"

"Kid, listen here," Dally interrupted, pointing a finger at him. "I don't give a shit about Ella or any of that jazz, so shut yer trap before I shut it for you."

Ponyboy was apparently feeling awfully brave that day. His expression changed, green eyes narrowing as he glared at the older boy in front of him, shoulders squaring. Months ago, he would have just done what he was told, but he knew more about Dallas Winston now, not that the hood still didn't scare the crap out of him, because he sure as hell did.

"I saw her over break," he admitted. "Well, right before break, but she didn't seem all that opposed to tutoring you still, regardless of whatever happened."

Now Dallas seemed interested. "When the hell did you two see each other?"

The younger teen shrugged. "The half-day, right after school." He shifted on his feet, leaning his arm against his locker. "We got to talkin', and then we went to the movie house together."

Dallas could have laughed. Ponyboy went to the movies with a girl—he'd actually gone on a date, well, not an actual date, but still. Well, damn, he thought to himself, chewing on his bottom lip. As if the realization just sunk in, he was suddenly reminded of Ella's message from Cherry Valance about the kid, and he pulled himself together.

"And?" he pushed, hoping to get some information.

Ponyboy looked blank. "Nothing. I just think that she's an awfully nice girl, Dal, and you should be more decent to her. She ain't all that bad."

The bell rang, then.

"Yeah, sure," Dally responded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you later, kid."

Brushing past him, the blond had to wonder about Ella Mitchell. He couldn't really picture her actually willing to help him with anything, but that didn't matter to him anyway. He was aware that there was only a week or so left of the second marking period, and he was certain that he would pass, so he didn't need Ella's help for shit.

Ella found herself in Mr. Davis's office later that morning. She wasn't sure what she was called down for, but she knew that it couldn't be good, either. The only times the girl had found herself in the office that year had to do with Dallas Winston, and a nervous feeling began settling in the pit of her stomach.

She briefly wondered if the blond had kept his promise, or threat, rather. She hadn't seen him since the Christmas party, although she was certain he hadn't seen her. Still, she hoped that Dallas hadn't gone and turned her in for not helping him.

"Miss Mitchell," the secretary called, capturing her attention. "You may go in now."

Ella took careful steps back to Mr. Davis's office, her heart seeming to flutter in her chest as she considered all the possibilities that could occur.

"Miss Mitchell," Mr. Davis greeted, glancing once at her. "Take a seat."

The brown-haired girl did as she was told, swallowing the lump in her throat as she did. Her eyes raised a bit to look at the principal, who was slowly reading through a file, one that she was sure belonged to Dallas Winston.

Golly, was she wrong.

Mr. Davis spoke up. "I've received word that you are currently failing two of your classes." He looked down at the paper on his desk. "You have an F in science and history, Miss Mitchell."

Ella felt her hands becoming clammy. "I'm aware of my grades, Sir. I spoke to Mr. Monroe about my current grade in history, and he explained to me that he would raise it if I turned in an essay after break."

"Hmm," came the response. "And what of your science class?"

"I will be working hard this week to improve my current grade," she answered, hoping that was a good enough statement.

She had never failed a class before, so the unpleasantness of being in the principal's office due to such was making her feel downright lousy. She remembered speaking to Mr. Monroe after class that day a few weeks ago; she had done the essay alright, even went over it several times to check for anything that could possibly be wrong with it. She sure hoped that it was decent enough to raise her grade, or else she would flunk the second marking period.

"And how is tutoring coming along with Mr. Winston?"

Oh, boy, she thought miserably, the part she had been waiting for. Ella wasn't sure if she should lie or not. She wasn't currently aware of Dallas's grades, didn't know what he was struggling with, although she did recall him having trouble with math, but that was it.

She decided to lie. "It's . . . coming along well."

The principal lifted a bushy eyebrow, humming in response. "I see."

Ella didn't like the look he'd given her just then. It made her feel guilty, like Mr. Davis knew that she wasn't telling the truth. This sure wasn't like her, but she couldn't endure reprimanding herself, even if it was Dallas's fault.

Unfortunately, his grades were her responsibility, as she had relayed to Craig a dozen times; it was her job to make sure he passed.

The teen nodded along, looking for a way to sound believable. "He's just been having some trouble with math, but we're working on it."

The older man's eyes maneuvered down the file again. "Yes, I see that."

Ella breathed a sigh of relief, before feeling herself relax a little. Well, at least it seemed like she had an idea of what was going on. Glory, she despised Winston, that godforsaken hood. She found herself remembering Ponyboy's words, then, wishing that she was able to see things how he did, because she honestly wasn't sure that she could forgive Dallas for what he'd done.

Still, if she backed out now, Mr. Davis would most likely question her, and she wasn't looking forward to landing herself in a deeper hole of lies.

In the end, Ella realized that she was left with only two options, and now she had a decision to make.

George approached Craig at his locker, leaning beside him with a raised brow. There was a smirk on his lips as he stared at the other boy, a questioning look in his eyes. When Craig realized that he was there, he forced a smile of his own.

"How's things going with your girlfriend?" George inquired, a hint of sarcasm laced in his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting to his side.

Craig's face contorted to confusion. "Ella? What about her?"

George shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Somebody might have said y'all were getting mighty cozy at the New Year's party." He winked, then. "Well?"

"Nothing to tell," he replied, closing his locker. "Besides, isn't that what you're supposed to do with your girl anyway, get cozy with her? They dig that kind of stuff."

"Sure, sure," George said, brushing him off. "Well, you keep on getting cozy with her, because I need some information, which you're going to get for me."

The brown-haired boy stopped abruptly, turning to face his friend with an expression reflecting sheer perplexity. He knew from Kevin that George had been talking crazy, but he didn't want to hear about it, didn't want to think it was all that true.

Of course, he understood that George was still deeply upset over Bob's murder, having never reconciled with it. Still, according to Kevin, he was taking things to extremes, and Craig couldn't understand exactly what he'd meant until then, well other than the fact that he'd mentioned that George wanted to kill the Curtis kid.

"What are you talking about?"

George pulled him aside. "I was informed that your girlfriend was hanging around with Ponyboy Curtis the Friday we got out of school." His brows lifted as he spoke. "You might want to consider keeping a tighter leash on her." And then he smiled. "But here's what I want you to do for me . . ."

"Lay off, Two-Bit," Ponyboy grumbled, attempting to weave his way out of the older teen's grip. "I've got homework I want to start on."

He merely chuckled in return. "Say uncle!"

Steve rolled his eyes at the commotion in front of himself, exhaling the smoke from the cigarette he'd just lit. He was bummed about not working an extra shift that afternoon, but he had to catch up on some long overdue school work. School for him was never hard, so he didn't have a problem letting himself fall back once in a while here and there.

"Two-Bit!" Ponyboy growled, and grabbed the rusty-haired greaser by the wrists, twisting the lower portion of his body away from the other boy, before giving him a shove backward.

"Damn," Steve said, looking intrigued. His eyes flickered to Two-Bit. "You'd better lay off the alcohol if the kid can take you so easily like that."

He was still laughing. "I'd say he's just mighty lucky, ain't that right, Ponyboy?"

"Yeah," Ponyboy replied, sarcasm in his voice. "But you won't be if don't quit bothering me."

"Lord a'mighty," Steve cut in, shaking his head. "He gets mouthier every day."

Two-Bit was finding the situation quite humorous. "Well look'it who he's been hanging around with nearly every day." Another laugh. "A couple of greasy bums like us will do the trick."

Ponyboy was half tempted to use his history book to whack Two-Bit upside the head, but he knew he wouldn't. Sometimes, he just wanted to do his work in peace and quiet, but unfortunately, with guys like Two-Bit and Steve around, that was just downright impossible. He knew he should have gone straight to the library for lunch instead; at least he could have gotten some work completed.

Steve suddenly perked up, nodding in the direction of Buck's T-Bird across the lot. "Who's that over by Dally's car?"

Ponyboy glanced up, too. "You mean Buck's car." A shrug. "I don't know."

"Looks like"—He squinted—"Naw, it can't be. Never mind."

Two-Bit leaned against the side of his car lethargically. "Well, ya know Dally . . . he's just Mr. Romeo."

Dallas walked out to the parking lot, eyes searching around for any of the guys, however, his gaze landed on a vaguely familiar sight—one with dark hair and a small oval face. She was bundled up under a long denim jacket and loose bell-bottom pants. He wouldn't have recognized her so easily if she hadn't looked up at him, piercing green eyes meeting his.

With a scowl, he marched over to her, jamming his hands into his pockets and wondering what in the almighty universe she could possibly want with him, and at the fucking high school, no less.

He grabbed her upper arm, pulling her around the side of the T-Bird. "What are you doin' here?"

Sylvia glanced down at her feet once, before looking back at him. "I came to talk to you."

He sighed impatiently. "What for? Look, we ain't together no more, haven't been in months, and don't think that little stunt at Buck's meant anything, either."

Dallas wasn't in the mood to deal with Sylvia. Any time she showed her face around him, there was always some form of trouble—and not the good kind—that came with it. The last time she'd cheated on him was the last; he was done with her. Just because he'd let her dump her fucking problems on him back in November didn't mean he forgave her, because he sure as hell didn't.

"Dal," she said, cutting into his thoughts. "I know it was you who did that to Chris."

The towheaded teen smirked. "Did what?"

Sylvia sighed, chin dropping. "Dallas, please."

"Please what, Syl?" He titled his head to the side, letting her arm go as he fished around his pockets for his pack of Kool. "You know I don't like it when you whine like that."

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Can we please talk?" Her eyes shifted around them, as if she was scrutinizing the area. "Elsewhere . . ."

Dallas gave her a hard stare for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't in the mood for anymore games. Besides, she wasn't being much fun to begin with. It used to be a rise getting one out of her, mostly because she never shied away from coming back at him. Now, she was just dull—certainly not the girl he remembered.

He nodded to the vehicle. "Take a ride?"

Ella was two seconds away from approaching Dallas Winston, that is, until she saw him chatting with another girl, one who looked strangely familiar, though she couldn't place her. Besides, her head had been turned in the opposite direction from where she stood, so she wasn't able to get a good look regardless.

She'd meant to talk with the towheaded hood about restarting the tutoring sessions again, though this time, without any drama involved. She knew the latest incident involving them was something she would overcome, so long as Winston kept his distance. She was determined to rectify the situation, even though it wasn't her fault.

Unfortunately, Dallas had left with the mysterious girl, so Ella was left back at square one. She figured that she would just have to see him in school the next day or something. It had taken her quite some time—mostly the entire morning—to reach a decision, and she'd decided that, no matter what, she wasn't going to let some over-confident hoodlum with an ego the size of Jupiter cause her to cower.

A voice from behind her caused the teen to jump. She jerked around, one hand resting lightly against her chest, as she came face to face with her boyfriend.

A small smile adorned her lips. "Craig!"

He kissed her. "I thought that was you." A grin. "What are you doing over here? Weren't you going to the library to take care of your science work?"

Ella nodded, letting out a nervous sounding laugh. "I was, but I suppose it just . . . slipped my mind." She shrugged, before adjusting her bag. "I'm so used to going outside during lunch that I forgot about the library."

Truthfully, she hadn't forgotten at all. She just wanted to find Dallas and talk to him about their issues, if you could even classify them as such. Still, Ella had told Craig earlier that she had spoken with Mr. Davis, who was getting on her case about her grades. Mr. Monroe had gladly accepted her essay with a nod of approval, offering her a reassuring smile. She wasn't sure about her science teacher, but she would have to speak with her as well.

Lordy, she thought absently, she should have made a resolution list . . .

Craig stared at her, a blank expression on his face, as he remembered his conversation with George from earlier that day. He wasn't exactly sure how to approach the subject with Ella, but it was something that had been bugging him ever since George had divulged the information to him. He didn't want to believe that his girlfriend had spent an evening with Ponyboy Curtis, especially after he had warned her about him and Winston numerous times.

Of course, he understood the tutoring dilemma, but going behind his back and not informing him that she was, incidentally, with another boy didn't sit well with him. And that's when he felt his anger beginning to rise.

"How come you never told me that you went to the movies with Ponyboy Curtis?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, attempting to keep his voice casual.

Ella's brows rose with skepticism. "What?"

Craig's voice came out colder. "I heard about it today, that you and Curtis saw a movie together the day we got out of school." He glared at her. "You never cared to mention that to me . . ."

She bit her lip, wondering who had told Craig. It wasn't like it was honestly a big secret or anything special like that, but Craig seemed to think something else, and Ella was left to imagine what could have been going through his mind. Golly.

"It wasn't like that, Craig," she admitted with a sigh. "I ran into him after work while I was on my way to pick out your watch. Nothing happened. We just went to a movie together." Her eyes met his, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I forgot about it."

The brown-haired boy's lips pursed as he considered her words. He wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but he remembered what kind of girl she was, and then he thought about the kid. Well, none of that mattered, but it was the principle of things, and she had went behind his back.

"Yeah, well, I don't think it's too hot that I have to hear from my buddies that my girl decided to clown around with some kid, either," he bit out, brushing past her. "I'll see you tonight."

Ella watched him head out to the parking lot with a surreal expression. She felt awful, and she wasn't sure what to do to fix it. Well, she would just have to speak with him after her shift that evening when he picked her up.

Dallas lit a cigarette as he waited for Sylvia to speak. She had started a few times here and there, but then she just stopped, and Dallas was growing impatient. He hadn't asked her to take a ride so she could sit there with her trap shut, for fuck's sake.

"What'd ya want?" he asked, not sounding real interested. He eyed her. "Look, I don't got much time, Syl, so whatever it is you wanna say, spit it out already."

"I wanted to tell you goodbye, Dally," she said quietly, fingers playing with the hem of her jacket. Her eyes met his, then, and he realized how glassy they were. "I just . . . wanted to see you one last time, before I go."

Dallas was stumped. "Where the hell are ya goin'?" His brows pulled together as he tried to figure out what in the fuck she was raving about. "Huh?"

Her lips were trembling slightly. "He found out, ya know . . . my father." She wiped a stray tear away, sniffling a little. "At first, he thought it was you, but I told him the truth. He was gonna come with a shotgun after ya, so when I told him about Chris, he was floored." A nervous chuckle fell from her lips as she continued. "Beat the tar outta him when he came lookin' for me. Guess it was a real treat when you took him down, too."

He grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah, well, someone had to teach that fucker a lesson." He looked back in her direction. "The hell's this gotta do with you leavin' or whatever?"

"He's sending me away to live with my great aunt in California," Sylvia answered, rubbing a hand against her forehead. "Said he can't be humiliated with a harlot for a daughter." The blond felt his teeth pressing together as she continued on. "But I wanted to see you before I left. You know, I was thinkin' about us and everything that happened, Dallas, and I wanted to apologize." She shifted in the seat so that she was looking at him. "You know, for however many fuck-ups we've been through, we've always come back to each other. I like to think of our yesterdays."

Dallas glared, knowing no truer words could have been said. "Whatever you say, Sylvia." Chewing the inside of his cheek, he flicked his cigarette butt out the window, before staring ahead. "You want me to take ya home or what?"

At her nod, he started the car and took off down the road. The two remained silent during the ride, but they both knew that no words needed to be spoken. Sylvia had said enough for the both of them, and Dallas wasn't one to get sentimental anyway. Still, there was some part of him that wouldn't forget her, either, and that he was sure of.

As he drove up the familiar path of her driveway, he stopped, putting the car in park. "Why in the fuck did you chop all your hair off?"

And then she fucking laughed. "I was wonderin' when you'd say something about that, but I guess I was just looking for something new." She shrugged in the seat, making to push the door open. "Who knows what's out in California anyway."

As she went to get out, Dallas reached over, pulling her back in by her arm. He stared at her for one split second, before tugging her closer. "C'mere, kid."

Before she had a chance to respond, their lips were pressed together, Dallas's rough against hers, but familiar all the same. She couldn't bring herself to admit to him that she would miss him—even his horrible ways—because he wasn't one for that type of thing. Besides, she didn't want to seem weak, didn't want to let on how she really felt, even after everything that had happened between them.

Sylvia didn't spare a glance back at Dallas as she made her way to the porch. As she pushed the front door open, though, she swallowed her tears and shoved her feelings aside, the sound of the car's tires fading in the distance.

"So, me an' Kathy ain't together anymore," Two-Bit remarked. "Said she's got more important things to care about other than a relationship, whatever that means."

Ponyboy shook his head. "I didn't even know y'all were back together."

The rusty-haired greaser grinned. "Hell, neither did I, not really. You know, I usually keep a better eye on my lady friends, Ponyboy, but Kathy . . . she's just all over."

"Yeah."

"I figure she's upset 'cause I don't pay much attention to her with all this school junk you've got me doin'," he said, coming to a stop at the Curtis house. "I don't get it, kid."

Deep down, Two-Bit had understood what Kathy had meant, that she wanted to concentrate on her own life like he was beginning to do. Normally, Two-Bit wouldn't ever bother with any sort of school work, but since he had been passing his classes, he'd been putting forth more effort than ever, and with the kid's help and guidance, it was a lot easier to understand.

The younger teen nodded along. "Well, I'm sure she didn't quite mean it like that."

"Sure."

"You coming inside?"

Two-Bit shook his head. "Naw, I'm gonna head downtown, see if I can find something to do." He gave him a short wave. "See ya later."

As he drove away, Ponyboy checked the mail, eagerly shuffling through the envelopes to see if Dale Franklin had responded to him. When he saw that there wasn't a letter from the man, he sighed, hoping that he would at least call with some news.

Lordy, he sure was anxious.

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play

Now I need a place to hide away

Oh, I believe in yesterday

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