Sorry once again that it's been a bit to get this chapter out. Writers block has been no fun but I finally have the next three chapters pretty much straight in my mind so they shouldn't take too long to get out. Anyways, this chapter took a while to get just how I wanted it but I'm finally extremely happy with it. Please review if you are reading. Thanks. Here we go with…

CHAPTER 51:

I get my best thinking done sitting in the back of a bar. In front of me was a napkin and I was sketching the lineups of those who would be on my side during the Stillwater rumble. On the left I listed the best fighters, which included most of my gang, and on the left I listed the rest. The good outweighed the bad and the decent and I smirked happily. On another napkin, I laid out Larson's crew and Kingfischer's name was at the top. My smirk faded slightly. This whole thing with Adam was making me a bit nervous but I knew it had to be done to get my brother out. I laid my head on my arm and rubbed the coke bottle against my brow to regain my concentration. A cigarette found its way clumsily to my mouth and I struck a match against the table to light it. Picking up the pen again, I started to jot notes down. Before I knew it, I had half-a-dozen filled napkins in front of me detailing the players involved, previous rumbles, fallen leaders, victories, and losses. Man, there had been a lot of losses:

Spring '61: My first rumble. Two lieutenants and the president dead. Patrick takes over.

Fall '62: Mannie, Talan, Smith.

Winter '62: Gretchens, Phillips, Chancey, Becker.

Summer '62: Allen.

Fall '63: Truman, Davis, Freedman.

Spring '63: Lacey, Michaels.

Since the spring of '63 we'd managed to keep deaths down to a minimum, but I couldn't bring myself to continue after that year. I already had enough names of people that I'd known and cared about littering this napkin, their names practically forgotten except to remember that they'd fallen beneath the dim lights of a blood soaked rumble. Apart from Preston, Frankie, and my brother, most of my gang wouldn't remember anybody before Allen. I'd been eleven years old in my first rumble and had been brought up from the little leaguers to replace a kid who'd moved from the neighborhood.

I remember that night clear as anything. I'd been knocked unconscious almost five minutes into it by a 2-by-4 and had woken up in a pool of the president's, James Malcolm's, blood. He'd died trying to save me and I think my brother became president because he felt bad about it. Patrick had just turned fourteen and the older members knew they needed some fresh blood to change things up. I couldn't even stand on my own that night and I'd had to stay at the gang's hangout because my mother would have died of shock at the sight of me. The next day I'd tried to explain why I was covered in blood and had a lump the size of a tennis ball on my head. Ma held up her hand and told me whatever went on in those streets was none of her business.

"What strange lives you two lead," She said thoughtfully before continuing cooking dinner.

They tried to keep me out of the rumbles after that but Pat said I needed to toughen up and kept me battling. At twelve, he made sure I was always in the possession of a switchblade just incase. Stepping back, I should have never been involved in any of that mess, but Patrick got whatever he wanted back then. Not many girls ran with the gangs after the little leaguers, which some girls were apart of to learn to fight, but my brother didn't see things that way. Janice was added on when I was thirteen after Pat had seen her gut a JD for trying to have his way with her in an alleyway. She would have killed that bastard if she'd had to. Slowly but surely, Patrick forced real gangs to go out of style. He dropped his title of president just one year after he'd taken over.

"What the hell are ya doin' in the back of Finn's for all this time?" Two-Bit's voice asked, jerking me out of all my thoughts, "Here we are thinking ya got jumped."

Johnny, Dallas, and Ponyboy were with him and I sipped my coke while Two-Bit looked over my notes in interest.

"Just getting it all straight in my head," I admitted.

"Death list," Two-Bit read aloud, "Sounds cheery."

Snatching the napkins away in earnest, I saw the four of them sit down and wait patiently as I continued to write furiously. Having the edge in any rumble was the most important thing. Any information that I could get my hands on would give us the advantage. Finn brought me over another soda and I slapped a quarter down on the table, figuring a small tip would get him off my back. The barkeep had always liked me since I never asked for a tab and always paid up front. Still, drinking two cokes at a dime a pop over the course of three hours ain't his idea of making good business for the night, but the bar was empty and no plainclothes cops were hassling him so he let me be.

"When are ya headin' back?" Pony asked me.

"Five days," I responded, "Do you think I could borrow your car Two-Bit? Frankie said the bus ain't so safe right now."

My friend nodded vigorously while he traced one of the many carved names in the woodwork.

"You sure look different right now," Two-Bit said oddly, "Older or somethin'. Frank was right when he said he couldn't believe you were just sixteen."

He was right. Most sixteen year olds weren't sitting in a bar working out their gang's next move. But then again, most sixteen year olds don't run away from home and move in with complete strangers. Years later, I'd realize that I wasn't like most other people. Normal is boring anyways so being different don't bother me none. Still, my father used to say I would never reach fourteen, and here I am.

"I'll be seventeen soon," I responded, like on year made it better.

My face did look older this week, but it was something that would change after I came back from Stillwater. Usually, Patrick and I would do this planning together and we'd catch things that the other had missed. Preston had visited him this month in the cooler so I wouldn't get a chance to see him. We'd starting sending letters recently which was something we hadn't done before. We're finally realizing that we don't have each other; not like we used to anyways.

"You think your brother got dinner ready by now?" Dal asked Ponyboy, "I'm starving."

The youngest Curtis contemplated for a second and then glanced at the bar clock. He rose quickly and a slightly panicked expression crossed his face. It was after seven.

"Shit," He swore, "I'm late again. Come on y'all."

We all rose and I delivered my empty bottles to the countertop so Finn wouldn't have to. The barkeep winked playfully at me and I felt Dallas tighten next to me. I'd suspected that Finn had a little crush on me by the way he always let me sit around his place, but I'd never thought much of it. The guy was in his mid-twenties after all.

"You stop by again real soon, doll," He said smoothly.

I buried my face in my hands as Dal snapped. He had every right too, of course, but I wasn't itching to find a new hang out.

"You see that ring around her neck, playboy? That's mine."

Finn muttered something under his breath while he busied himself with cleaning a shot glass. Dally slammed his fists down hard on the bar and started growling swear words. Two-Bit, who was friendly with most bartenders in Tulsa, put a hand on Dal's shoulder and told him not to go looking for any trouble, but Dallas hit his hand roughly away.

"You get off going after taken girls? Especially young ones, huh? You good for nothin' piece of shit. Step outside, I feel like rearranging your goddamn face."

"I'm not steppin' outside of shit," Finn responded coldly, "There's four of y'all. Ain't much of a fight."

Dallas called him chicken and remarked that the guys would just be an audience. Finn had the nerve to ask me if he should fight for my honor and Dal hopped over the bar before any of us could even react. He slammed Finn's face onto the counter with so much force that I could hear the crack as Finn's nose broke. After repeating the action twice, Dallas hopped back over and lit up a cigarette, surveying the damage he'd done. Blood was cascading out of the bartender's nose and I figured that a baseball bat or a rifle hiding under the counter would be drawn at any minute. Johnny grabbed my arm and began pulling me outside while Two-Bit did the same to Dal.

"Looks like we won't be going back in there," Two-Bit stated with a small laugh.

Dal and I screamed at each other the whole way home while Pony and Johnny watched in amazement at our vocabularies. Maybe I shouldn't have hung out at Finn's place if I'd known he'd had a crush on me, but it wasn't like I was initiating anything. Both of us were furious and dealing with out own shit, me with Stillwater and Dallas over a fight he'd had with Shepard over stealing Curly's hubcaps, and were itching to yell.

"Ya thinkin' about leaving me for Finn? I reckon he's almost thirty and you two could run that bar together," Dal screamed.

"Just shut your trap," I shrieked back, "You don't know nothing about nothing. You were just looking to blow off steam you crazy bastard."

You couldn't be a greaser couple without having fights like these on occasion. Hell, Steve and Evie made it a weekly thing, so our remarks were biting and we didn't mean half of what we were saying. Darry, Soda, and Steve were sitting on the porch waiting for us when we pulled up to the house and they all smirked while Dal and I went at it in the middle of the street. Dallas threw a stick in anger and I picked up a rock and hurled it in his general direction. This was enough to set him off down the street and I yelled obscenities at his retreating back. Stomping into the house, I lit up a cigarette and poured myself a stiff drink. The rest of the guys followed me inside and we sat at the table while Darry brought out the dishes of food.

"Do you wanna go tell Dal dinner's on the table?" Soda requested with a grin.

If it wasn't so funny I would have probably decked him.

END OF CHAPTER.

Happy Holidays everybody. I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I sure did. Reviews please. And I will do my best to update ASAP. Thank you.