Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Byrds own "Things Will Be Better."

Things will be better now

Don't ask me why, don't ask me how

March 4, 1966

Ella frowned at the sight of her hair in the mirror—even pulled back in a French braid it didn't want to cooperate with her. Sometimes, she really considered just cutting it all off, but then it would be even more difficult to manage. Her mother told her that it would straighten out over time, but Ella wondered if it honestly ever would. With a sigh, the girl turned the water on and rubbed her hands under the faucet, before running them over the top and sides of her hair, hoping to flatten it out some.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Ella nearly jumped back in surprise. She blinked once as Evie, Steve Randle's girlfriend, came to stand beside her, touching up on her own makeup. Her eyes drifted over to Ella, noticing her trouble. On the other hand, Ella was chewing her bottom lip, trying to make one stray piece of her hair stay tucked inside of the hairpiece. She was half hoping that Evie wouldn't notice, remembering the last time the two had run into each other—the same day Evie had gotten her hooked on smoking.

"Need some help?" the younger girl asked, raising a curious brow.

Ella pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. I'm just trying to—"

"Make your hair stay down?" Evie guessed, moving to lean against the sink. "You know, hairspray will do ya a world of wonders." She fluffed her own shiny locks. "That's how I manage mine anyway. I got some on me if you want to use it."

The brown-haired girl merely stared. How many girls carried a bottle of hairspray with them? "Sure, but could you help me?" She felt like an idiot due to her own question. "It's just that, well—"

Evie shook her head. "No need to explain. I get it, believe me." She flashed the girl a grin. "'Sides, all my girlfriends are always asking me to help them out with their hair. Here." She reached for the girl's hair tie, quickly pulling her hair out from the messy braid. "Damn, you sure got yourself a head of hair, but that's just fine. Ain't nothin' I can't handle."

For the next several minutes, Evie fixed Ella's hair. The latter was surprised at how easy she made it look, too, and thanked whatever being was above that Evie had shown up to school early, and that they had ran into each other; she figured she was early due to the weather, much like herself, though.

Evie was a genius when it came to taming crazy hair, and by the time she was finished, Ella's brown locks no longer looked like they needed a bushwhacker rather than some generous TLC.

She ran her hands through her nearly flat, bushy hair, smiling a little. "How did you do that?"

Evie only crossed her arms, a smirk on her lips. "All in the genes, I suppose."

"Right. Your mom—"

"Works at a hair salon." She winked. "She passed her talent down to me, I reckon." She quickly shooed Ella's hands away from her hair. "Well, don't play with it!"

When the bell rang, the two parted ways, and for once, Ella actually felt better about herself, and all it took was a little hair management, too. However, her good spirits practically diminished when she saw a familiar head of unkempt, blond hair by her locker. Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she made her way over to where he stood, silently wishing that it wasn't him, only it was, and there was no way she was making an escape, because he had spotted her, too.

She crossed her arms as she stared up at his towering frame, trying her hardest to not accidentally embarrass herself, or look like she was intimidated. She kept her expression neutral, waiting for him to say whatever it was he needed to, before leaving her alone.

Dallas, though, didn't look to be in a sour mood, which was quite surprising. "You don't look too happy to see me, sweets," he said, leaning beside her locker door.

Ella raised her chin a little, keeping her cool. "Should I be?"

"Well, considering the fact that you nearly ripped my head off a week ago, or whatever, I'd—"

"Oh, cut the bull," she bit out hardly, spinning her combination. "What do you want, Dallas?"

The blond almost chuckled at how stubborn she was attempting to be. It had always been a rise taking a jab at her, or cracking jokes at her expense before, and he sure as hell wasn't about to cut the bull, as she had called it. He remembered Two-Bit assuming that she had some kind of interest in him, and even looking at her then made him feel sick. That assumption had to be wrong—far wrong.

He smirked a little. "Well, for one, you're supposed to be my tutor."

The force she used to slam her locker stunned him, but not much. She turned to face him with one hell of a glare, and for a second, he thought she might come after him again.

"Supposed to be?" she repeated, irritation in her voice. "You're the one who said that we were done with the tutoring, so I figured you didn't want to be bothered anymore. If you need help with anything, you need to ask me." She crossed her arms. "It's not like I work for you."

"I ain't the one who attacked you," he bit back, staring down his nose at her. "'Sides, I figure we're even enough. You tried for a boxing match with me, I embarrassed you and made you look like more of a dope than what you are, and we're back to square-fucking-one again."

Ella was staring at him as if he were insane. "You think this is a game?"

"Life's a game, sweets," he said, and pushed himself away from the lockers as the bell rang. "Look, just meet me out in the lot today after school, will ya?"

Her eyes narrowed more, until they were nearly slits. "Don't hold your breath."

"I ain't never heard of this garbage," Two-Bit complained, staring at the work Ponyboy had given him. "You sure this is gonna be on the test?"

The younger teen groaned deeply. "Yes, Two-Bit." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Two-Bit was usually more cooperative than this, though for some reason he seemed pretty anxious, but Ponyboy couldn't really blame him—he'd been somewhat worried about the midterms. "Just try one problem and if you don't get it, we'll work on it." He sighed. "We've got this whole weekend to go over the lesson."

The rusty-haired greaser shook his head. "Gee, you got a whole 'lotta faith in me, kid."

"Because I know you can do it."

Ponyboy watched as his friend got to work. It was odd seeing Two-Bit worked up about something like schoolwork, or a test. Then again, if he failed, it would seriously lower his chances of passing his junior year, which would endanger any chance he had of graduating the following year. Ponyboy knew how much stress Two-Bit was carrying on his shoulders at that particular moment, and he promised himself that he would help him to the best of his abilities. Thing was, Two-Bit was an awfully smart guy—he just didn't give himself enough credit.

The older teen slid the paper back in his direction a moment later. "Did my best."

As his eyes scanned the work over, Ponyboy's brow raised just a little. "You did everything right, but at the bottom, you're supposed to divide, not subtract."

"Divide, subtract, ain't it technically the same thing?" came the annoyed response.

Ponyboy only offered his friend a quizzical stare. "Let's resume this after school at my house, alright? We've been at this almost the entire period."

And that was true. Two-Bit and him had been working every day during study hall, going over math and English, Ponyboy giving him lessons from the books that he knew would be included on next week's midterms. He wasn't really looking forward to those tests, but he never had a problem passing them—he supposed he and Darry were alike that way. Neither one of them really ever worried about studying too much; they were natural successors academically.

"Yeah, sure," Two-Bit mumbled in response, leaning back in the chair. "How's your brothers holding up anyway, kid?"

Ponyboy rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, Darry ain't too happy with Soda working on the other side of town now, but he said there isn't much he can do about it."

"Reckon there isn't," he replied, his voice almost soft. "Can't believe he took the job, though."

"I know."

Two-Bit, never one to remain down, immediately lightened up. "Well, look at this way, kid, maybe Soda will get himself a nice, upper class girl, huh?" He winked. "Think about that. Soda and a Socy gal, now that's a sight I'd never believe with my own two eyes, but given the way those gals fall all over him like putty, I wouldn't be surprised if he asked one of them out eventually."

"Mr. Winston, take a seat," Mrs. Philips said, adjusting her glasses. "Shut the door, please."

The blond jammed his fists into his denim pockets, using his boot to kick the door closed. He hated visits with Mrs. Philips, hated the way she looked at him, as if she were silently criticizing him, or like she was attempting to dissect him. He knew she didn't like him, hell, she couldn't stand him, and he was sure the very sight of him in her office disgusted her. Well, that was a two-way street, he thought bitterly, dropping himself into the chair across from her desk.

"I'm sure you can guess why I sent for you," she continued dryly, not bothering to even look over at him. "Midterms are next week, Mr. Winston, as I'm sure you're aware, however, Mr. Davis was a little concerned with your grade in geometry. He spoke to Miss Mitchell about it the other day, as I'm sure she mentioned to you."

Dallas's brows pulled together at that new information. When the hell had Davis talked to Dopey? And about his grades, no less. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared back at the counselor seated across from himself, a cool look in his blue orbs. He couldn't tell her that he had no idea what the fuck she was talking about, that he hadn't spoken to Ella about his grades at all, well, except for that morning, but even then, it wasn't much. Dumb bitch.

Mrs. Philips sighed. "With your current grade, we were concerned about you partaking in the midterms, which—"

The teen cut her off, voice hard. "Listen, lady, I know where the hell my grades are at, and I ain't got no problem taking the test next week, savvy?"

She blinked in surprise at the bite in his tone, adverting her eyes from his rugged countenance. "Mr. Winston, be that as it may; however, where you're currently ranging right now on the academic pyramid, it is a major concern of whether or not you'll pass the midterms, and if you fall below a certain level, you'll be unable to finish your senior year."

Gritting his teeth, Dallas almost spit at her. Oh, he'd understood her underlying message to him alright; she was calling him stupid, all because his education didn't meet the district's requirement for what was considered acceptable. He was a greaser, possibly worse than just that, too—he was a criminal. He didn't matter in their eyes, and he was quite aware of that. Mrs. Philips didn't honestly give a flying fuck if he passed or failed the midterms, but God forbid one of those upper class, trust-fund fuckers found themselves on their way to failure.

"Yeah?" he said, standing up and giving her a sharp look. "Well, y'all can just shove your concerns elsewhere, 'cause I ain't gonna have no problem with them tests."

And with that, he threw the door open and stalked on out of the office, swearing silently all the way to the high heavens. He was pissed, more pissed than he'd been in a long time, even more-so than he was when Ella practically shredded his face. Speaking of that air-headed dope, Dallas needed to speak to her, and she wasn't gonna give him anymore fucking static, either.

He was gonna make her help him pass, even if he had to drag her by her crazy-ass hair out to the lot after school that afternoon.

Ella trudged out of history class, a grim look on her face. She liked Mr. Monroe, really she did, but there were times when she just really couldn't stand his assignments. This week, he was making the class partner up to study for the midterms next week, and Ella had sat there like a bump on a log because she didn't talk to anyone. Oh, sure, she knew who the other students were, having grown up with them and all, but she felt more like an outcast than anything. When the other kids had gotten into groups, Ella just tucked herself into her seat, letting her hair fall around her face in hope that nobody would realize she was sitting by herself.

She remembered her junior year, then, remembering how she and Sylvia Evans would often pair up so that neither of them had to work alone. Sylvia had actually been the year ahead of Ella, but since she had failed history class in her junior year, she had to retake it the following year. She and Ella had ended up in the same class, the only two girls of middle and lower class, so it wasn't a surprise to anyone when they would get together for projects and class assignments.

The girl was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed the towheaded greaser walking beside her, their steps practically in synchronization. It took a moment to realize that somebody was even that close to her, and when she glanced up, she immediately scowled. Oh, great, she thought, wishing she'd just kept her head down.

"What do you want?" she asked coolly, rounding the corner of the hall.

Dallas didn't even bother to look at her, instead keeping his eyes forward. "You never bothered to tell me that you spoke to Davis about my grades, or these fucking midterms."

"Well, I haven't exactly seen you until this morning," she replied, the annoyance in her voice seeping through. "How'd you find out?"

The blond ground his teeth. "The counselor."

"Mrs. Philips?" Ella sounded surprised, and the expression on her face only confirmed that she was. It wasn't exactly a shock that Mrs. Philips might mention that Mr. Davis had spoken to her, but the girl wasn't sure why.

Dallas rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Said she needed to discuss my grades along with the fact that she and ol' Davis are concerned about me taking the midterms."

Ella came to a stop at her locker, raising a curious brow at him. She was trying to register his words, but they sounded odd to her. She figured that their concern was because Dallas wasn't exactly up to where he should have been on the academic pyramid, though his grades had been improving, save for math, but he most certainly wasn't behind in any of his classes.

"You'll do fine, I'm sure," she responded after a minute, switching her books out.

"Yeah, well"—He leaned closer to her—"that's where you're gonna come in handy, sweets."

Ella knew from experience that Dallas was going to try and persuade her to help him out. Biting her lip, she turned to face him, crossing her arms as she stared up at him defiantly.

"Oh?" she said, her gaze not once faltering. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Dallas smirked, and Ella had to force herself to keep steady. "Ain't you supposed to be my tutor? Look, we already had this discussion, Jesus Christ."

"But I never agreed to help you again." She kept her gaze firmly planted on his face. "Like I said, don't hold your breath, hood."

Dally was cocky, though. "And what would Davis and Philips have to say if you weren't doing your job, huh?" He crossed his arms, eyeing her expectantly. "'Cause here's what I think would happen." Another smirk. "First, I'd tell Davis that you were intentionally refusing to help me out, and then I'd blame my math grade on you, and then I'd fail the math part of the midterm, and then . . . well, I don't think it's lookin' so good for you at this point, but—"

Ella was fuming. "Oh, shut up. Please, it's not like any of that would really happen. Besides"—She tossed her hair over her shoulder, raising her chin a little—"do you think they'd even believe you?"

If there was one thing Dallas had always enjoyed about Ella, it was how easily it was to piss her off just to get under her skin. She always took the bait, always got fired up, and it was something he'd always took pleasure in. He knew from experience that she was about to cave—there were steps to her anger, he'd noticed. First, she'd get annoyed, then she'd become temperamental, and finally, she would become angry and snap, the result of which would involve her attempting to knock his block off. But she always caved.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered, staring at her icily.

Ella was growing impatient. "Well, I guess I'll take my chances, then."

The two glared at each other for a moment, and Ella inwardly cringed. She had thought about helping Dallas out ever since Mr. Davis had told her about his grade in math, but now that they were face to face and he was the one coming to her for the help, she didn't want to give any. Something about being around him made her feel weird, like she had to be cruel or something. She wasn't even sure if it made sense, but she was growing flustered and anxious, and she no longer wanted to be around him.

Dallas kept his eyes on hers, merely staring. He thought about Two-Bit's words, then, and with a forced smile, he did the only thing he could think of. He could see the girl's cheeks turning a shade, could tell that she was incredibly nervous just standing there, even though her behavior was erratic and moody, so he leaned forward a little, reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

"Think about it, sweets," he said in a low voice beside her ear, pulling back to give her a wink.

Ella felt her chest tighten, but she quickly moved away from his touch. "We'll see," she mumbled out, and practically took off down the hall, not once looking back.

"Ain't it a little late for midterms?" Steve muttered, shaking his head as he and Two-Bit walked out of the school. "They're usually held in February, right?"

The older teen nodded. "What I always thought, too, but I never paid too much attention to any of that junk, not like I'm doing now anyway."

"You're too poor to pay attention," came the witty response, and Two-Bit smirked, cocking an eyebrow at the dark-haired boy. "Ponyboy helpin' you study an' all?"

Two-Bit nodded. "Sure is. That kid is something else, I'll tell ya that."

"Still a pain in the ass, but he's okay."

At that precise minute, Ponyboy met up with the two older teens, falling in step beside Two-Bit as they headed toward Steve's car. The younger boy looked around for Dallas, even though the teen drove in separately. Usually, both Two-Bit and Steve would, too, and Ponyboy would either walk or catch a ride from either boy, but Two-Bit's car had broken down again, and Steve was supposed to be taking a look at it that weekend.

"Where's Dally?" Ponyboy inquired, eyes flickering between the older teens.

Steve lit up a cigarette as they walked across the lot. "He's gotta study date with the Mitchell girl."

His face expressed shocked. "Dally is working with Ella again?" Well, that was news to his ears, and he wondered for a moment why neither Dally or Ella had said anything to him about it. "When did this all happen?"

"This afternoon," Two-Bit replied, climbing in the passenger side of Steve's car. "Told Steve about it earlier, something about Mrs. Philips and Mr. Davis gettin' on his case 'cause of his grade in math. He went and hunted Ella down, and that's all there is to it." Pony's brows furrowed as he considered Two-Bit's words, but the the older teen was already changing the topic. "Say, kid, you know why the school is making us take these tests so late? Didn't we always take them in January or something?"

Ponyboy nodded. "February, and I'm not sure why we're taking them so late. All I know is that finals will be the second week of May instead of the last week of April, like usual."

"Weird," Steve mumbled, and then turned the radio up, signaling that he was no longer up for talking about school anymore. He jerked his head toward Two-Bit, mentioning something about taking Evie out that night, and Ponyboy was forgotten in the backseat, watching the scenery pass by while Steve drove and Two-Bit yapped away.

Ella had considered just leaving school early so she could skip out on tutoring Dallas, but some part of her felt responsible, not to mention bad. She didn't particularly care for Mrs. Philips, and she knew that the older woman didn't exactly like Dallas, either. It had taken a serious amount of thought, but in the end, Ella found herself sluggishly making her way toward the familiar T-Bird in the parking lot.

The blond-headed hood was already in the driver's seat, a smug look on his face as he saw her petite frame heading his way in the rear-view mirror. The car was already running, the gearshift in reverse, and once the girl was close enough, he deliberately stepped on the gas and backed out of the spot, coming within a few inches of hitting her.

Ella swiftly jumped to the side, jaw spilling open as Dallas hit the brakes hard, that stupid smirk still on his lips as she bared her teeth at him through the window with complete vexation. But he still wasn't quite finished with her, and when she'd went to open the door, he backed the car up another few inches, staring back at her with a mischievous expression.

"Dallas!" she cried when he did it again, and with her arms crossed, face contorted in frustration, she sent him harsh daggers until he raised his hands up off the steering wheel. But Ella shook her head, not falling for another one of his tricks. "Put it in park," she ordered, and only when he'd done so did she open the door and climb in. "You're a jerk."

"So I've been told," he replied, not waiting for her to adjust herself in the seat or anything, instead taking off out of the parking lot and onto the main road, the girl beside him practically flying into his side as he made a sharp left turn.

For the first time, Dallas had actually paid attention to Ella, listening carefully to her instructions and advice. The girl knew that it was simply due to the fact that he was set on passing the midterms, determined to prove Mr. Davis and Mrs. Philips wrong, and not because of her. Still, the fact that he was actually listening to her made the session that much easier.

Since Ella knew that they would be a while studying that afternoon, she had openly suggested that they go to her house for a change so it wouldn't be as cramped in the car. Dallas seemed skeptical about the situation at first, but eventually agreed. The two teenagers had lounged on the couch in the living room, Ella at the end closest to the kitchen entry, and Dallas closer to the front door.

The blond was trying not to let the fact that he felt like a real pansy gnaw away at him, while his tutor simply tried to ignore her own feelings. She would glance at Dallas every few minutes, watching as he worked away at the math lessons she'd given him. His brows were furrowed, that seemingly permanent scowl present on his face as his lips stayed pursed in a very thin line.

Ella eyed the clock, before her gaze shifted back over to Dallas. "You want to take a break?" she offered, keeping her voice level. When he lifted his eyes to look at her, she continued. "We've been at this for over two hours." Her brows rose. "You hungry? I can make something if you want."

"Sure." The answer was short and simple.

Dallas watched her make her way into the kitchen, and he tossed the math book aside and leaned back against the couch, stretching a little. He remembered the last time he'd been in the Mitchell household—the day when he'd come to question Ella about her attack over a month ago. Glory, he thought, time sure was going by quickly.

Ella poked her head out from the kitchen. "Is chicken okay?"

"You makin' me dinner or somethin'?"

Her cheeks flushed. "I, uh, it's all we have right now, well, that and some potatoes, but I can—" She paused at the intensity of his stare. "What?"

The blond looked her over, taking in the pink tinge of her cheeks, the nervous look in her eyes, and the way her frame seemed so stiff and tense. Lordy, but had she always been that anxious around him? He'd never noticed it before. And then it hit him—Two-Bit was right; the girl had it in for him, and she had it bad.

"Nothin'," he said, placing his hands behind his head. "Whatever you're cookin' up is fine." He didn't remove his gaze as she retreated back into the kitchen, the sound of her bustling about echoing around the house a moment later.

The frown on his face deepened as he considered Ella. The idea of her even being interested in him like that made his skin crawl. He was certain if he looked up "domesticated" in the dictionary, Ella's picture would be right next to it. She wasn't wild or reckless, or . . . anything really. No. Sure, she was fiery when provoked, and she was bold, but not the way he liked his girls. Ella was the type of girl that would probably marry a good and faithful working man who would treat her right.

Dallas shook his head at the thought. Ella didn't like him, and even if she thought she really had any sort of feelings for him, it was still his image that lured her in. He knew he could never like her back, and he wouldn't even entertain the concept of it, wouldn't even string her along with the possibility of it, either. Besides, he was doing just peachy with Cherie Peters—now there was girl he could entertain ideas with—wild, brazen, easy, reckless . . .

The smell of food wafted into his nostrils a while later, and with a curious expression, the blond made his way into the kitchen to find Ella flipping a piece of chicken over on the stove before going back to stirring the small pot of boiling potatoes beside the pan. Crossing his arms, he leaned on the counter beside her and watched her for a minute or so until she glanced up at him.

"Yes?"

"So you attack me and feed me, sweets." A smirk brushed his lips. "You poisoning my food?"

Ella glared at him. "Guess you'll find out when you eat it."

The smirk only became more indented at her sharp response. Oh, yeah. Ella Mitchell was literally the walking definition of domesticated.

'Cause misunderstand is the cause of it all

It take you to the top just to watch you fall

Thank you so much for all of the feedback on this story! :3

Also, to learn more about Evie's hair skills, which were mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, check out "God Help the Girls" by Bratpack 2.0, a collaborative effort by AndThatWasEnough, lulusgardenfli, and I, which focuses on and centers around the girls from the book, featuring some of our own characters from "Don't Think Twice"/"Sins of the Saints", "Green Light", and "The Visit." It takes place between chapters five and six of this story! :3

Until next time . . .

—Cat