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"What's New York like?"

Ponyboy's questions were becoming more and more frequent. It wasn't every day, but we would be sitting there working on our art projects, the room smelling like paint and clay, and suddenly he would just ask me a question. He would ask all sorts of things, like what my favorite color was and if I could drive and what movies were my favorite. And we never talked the whole period, just the amount of time it took him to ask his questions and me to give my answers. It was sort of nice having someone to talk to who didn't seem to have an ulterior motive or was trying to educate me on the way things worked in this town.

This was the most personal question he had asked so far.

"Oh, I don't know. Loud sometimes, lots of people, lots of things to see. We lived in a townhouse so we didn't have a yard, but our neighborhood was near the NYU campus so it was nice." I shrugged. "Anything in particular you want to know about?"

I had mentioned on the first day that I had moved from New York, as I had to just about everyone I had met in Tulsa. It was the natural progression of things – they would say they had never seen me before, I would say I was new, and the first question would always be to ask where I was originally from, and that conversation had been no different when I had it with Ponyboy.

"I dunno," he shrugged. I was getting that maybe he had been hoping to hear something a bit more thrilling. "I just…well, it always looks real neat in the movies. I got a buddy who used to live there, but he don't tell us much about it."

I would have bet money that the buddy was Dallas Winston. It had been overshadowed a bit by the Oklahoma sound, but there was something harsh and fast and no-nonsense in the hood's voice that I had heard in my occasional outings to the other, lesser boroughs.

"Then I guess I'm not quite sure what else to tell you." I put another layer of glaze on the flower pot I was making. I was hoping to start a little garden out on my porch. "It was just where I lived. Is there something in particular you'd wanna see there?"

He scratched behind his ear for a moment. "Maybe the natural history museum. I read about it once. It seemed real interesting."

Ponyboy was always reading, and everything he read about was really interesting to him. "It is. I used to go there with my father sometimes, or on field trips. Are you interested in history, or animals or something?"

I was well aware of how formal and stiff I sounded in our conversations, and not just me, but him, too. It was like we were conducting an interview. But I'm not sure if he and I were quite sure how to act like regular people around each other at that point. He was too young and shy, and I was too nervous and new. But it was nice to have someone to talk to. It's always nice.

"Sure," he shrugged. "I think, really, I just wanna go to one of those nice museums. They've always got all the best stuff. We don't got anything like that here."

Ponyboy considered the vase he was making. It was an interesting thing for a boy to be making because the only thing I could think of to use a vase for was flowers, or maybe pencils. But maybe Ponyboy liked flowers. Just like there were probably a few girls who liked to fish, there were probably a few boys out there that liked a nice flower arrangement. "Can I ask you somethin' else?"

"Sure," I said, biting my tongue so I didn't make a snarky remark. He should have known by then that he didn't have to ask and that I answered pretty much everything he threw at me.

"Well, I was wondering...well, I think you know one'a my buddies. Two-Bit?"

I was taken aback. "You're friends with him?" I asked. He nodded. "But you're such a nice boy. I can't picture you being friends with a guy like him."

Ponyboy set his vase down and glowered at me. I shrunk back, not sure what it was I had said wrong. It was true – Ponyboy was much nicer than Two-Bit. He may have become my verbal sparring partner, but that didn't really mean anything. We just pushed each other's buttons. You know – it was fate, and all that, me and Two-Bit being the thorns in each other's sides.

"He's my buddy," Ponyboy said defensively. "He ain't so bad if you know 'im. I wouldn't be friends with him if he was some real big jerk." He rested his cheek in his hand and stared dully at the table. "He's kinda my brothers' friend, anyways. I've just always known him."

I wasn't aware he had brothers. Then I thought of Sodapop and thought to myself he had to be one of them.I sighed. "Yeah, I know him. We're in history together. Why do you ask?"

Ponyboy squirmed. "I dunno. He just...I overheard him talkin' and I heard your name. Guess y'all ain't exactly friends, huh?"

I laughed. "Absolutely not. He said to me that it was fate we don't get along. I don't think I've ever heard anything so stupid in my life."

I knew they were friends, but I couldn't help but say that. Ponyboy rolled his eyes, but I got the feeling he was rolling his eyes at Two-Bit that time, not me. "Pretty stupid, I guess. He really said that, though?" I nodded. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged. His attention was now turned completely back on his vase. "Just…nothin.' It's just…interesting."

I scowled. "No, really – what's so interesting about it?"

But he didn't answer me. I figured that whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good.

xXx

I never got in trouble at school. Not once in my life. I was a good student – a good girl. I raised my hand when I wanted to speak. I didn't get into fights; girls shouldn't even be getting into physical fights in the first place. I turned in my homework on time and never cheated on assignments or tests.

And then Two-Bit Mathews almost ruined all of that for me.

He did that a lot.

We weren't even in history class at the time. I was walking with Missy and Penny to lunch when it happened. We were talking about the game that night when we saw them: Two-Bit and some guy I didn't know going at each other. Two-Bit had him pinned up against the lockers. The other guy was big, but Two-Bit was angrier. There was a light in his eyes that I hadn't seen before, not when he was talking bull to Jimmy Hopper or when he was teasing me.

This was pure hatred I was seeing.

"That all ya got, Watson?" Two-But taunted. "Huh? C'mon. C'mon, just one more. Just one more."

A crowd had started to gather around me and my friends as we gaped at the two boys. Two-Bit had a dangerous grin on his face, and I thought to myself that this must be what he looks like when he fights. He looked mean and somehow bigger, and he was already pretty tall. I looked to Missy, who merely shrugged. She had no idea what was going on either.

"The hell do they think they're doing?" Missy muttered. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at hearing her swear.

Penny's body was all tensed-up. "Someone needs to make them stop."

Who would have thought the person to make them stop would be me?

Before I could think about what I was saying, my mouth just flew open. "Back off, Two-Bit!"

He turned to face me. Something flashed behind his eyes where they softened just a bit, just for a moment, but then they turned steely grey again. "This ain't none of your damn business, Stevens. You and your little worker bees can buzz off," he sneered.

"Did he just call us worker bees?" Missy whispered, looking at Penny, and I went red with embarrassment.

"Hey, man, leave the girls outta this," Two-Bit's victim said, but Two-Bit gave him a look that clearly said to can it.

"Just leave him alone, Two-Bit," I tried again. I was getting a little nervous myself, realizing that by speaking to him, I was sort of becoming a part of this altercation. I had taken a side, and it wasn't Two-Bit's.

"How 'bout you just get on outta here, doll face?" Some boy in a leather jacket shouted at me. A lot of people began to murmur their agreements, and I felt like disappearing, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut.

But it seemed to work. Two-Bit didn't look any less angry, but he let go of the guy, mercifully dropping him to the floor. "Get the fuck outta here," Two-Bit spat, and the guy scrambled off. The crowd started to disperse, too, but as Two-Bit made his way over to me, Missy and Penny stayed firmly planted at my side.

"Back off Two-Bit?" He snarled. "What about that scumbag? He's the one who fuckin' started it."

I noticed the redness on his cheek, and figured he was probably telling the truth. "I don't even know that guy's name," I said. "How could I tell him to back off if I don't even know his name?"

Two-Bit barked a laugh. "That's weak, Stevens. C'mon. What'd I say about stayin' out of this sorta thing? This is none of your goddamn business." And suddenly, he deflated. "Girly, what the hell am I s'posed to do with you?"

I opened my mouth, but quickly shut it again. I felt ashamed. He had a point. I had just assumed it was him who had started it. Even though I knew Two-Bit got into fights, I also knew that the West side boys did, too. They were just as likely to be guilty as any guy from the East side.

We were at odds with each other. But that was how it was supposed to be.

"Mr. Mathews!"

Two-Bit whirled around. Mrs. Bloom was walking towards us, but Two-Bit's sparring partner was nowhere to be found. He, or a witness, must have tipped her off and ran.

Mrs. Bloom was the teacher all my friends had warned me about. She was the one most likely to bust you for chewing gum or hand out a dress code violation, so I could only imagine how she felt about fighting. We were going to get in huge trouble – just my luck. That was what I got for opening my mouth, for associating with someone like Two-Bit Mathews. But I was trying to get them to stop!

Mrs. Bloom approached us, hands placed authoritatively on her hips. She looked menacingly at Two-Bit. "Mr. Mathews, would you care to explain exactly what happened between you and Mr. Watson?"

"Matt Watson," Missy whispered in my ear – another day, another name.

Two-Bit sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ma'am, really, it was nothin'..."

I tuned him out, more worried about my fate than his. Oh, God. I could see it now: Dad getting the call and having to come and pick me up. He would be pissed because he would have to come from work all the way out in Stillwater to get me. Then he would lecture me about getting in between a couple of troublemakers. Then who knows? Private school? Homeschool? An eternity spent inside, never going out, never seeing my friends, never doing anything besides schoolwork until I either go to college or rot away?

I felt like I was going to start bawling right there in the hallway.

"Miss Stevens, would you explain what you saw?"

I snapped out of my trance and looked at Mrs. Bloom. I saw Two-Bit wipe blood from his mouth and I cringed. "They were fighting," I began tentatively. "And I told them they needed to stop."

Two-Bit narrowed his eyes at me. Mrs. Bloom looked at Two-Bit. "You come with me, Mr. Mathews," she said.

"Ma'am – "

"Right. Now," she growled.

Two-Bit glared at me one last time before following after her. I had heard he went to the principal all the time for all sorts of things. He should have been used to it. He shouldn't have been so mad.

"Bridget, let's get outta here," Missy said, placing her hand on my shoulder. I nodded and followed her and Penny to the lunchroom, where Bob, Randy, and Jerry had stopped by our table. Not George Washburn, though.

"Hey!" Randy called. "What took you guys so long?"

"Two-Bit Mathews got into it with Matt Watson. They were in our way, and Mrs. Bloom caught them," Penny answered as she sat in her regular spot, acting as though this was all just as trivial as the weather.

Bob snorted. "Watson against Mathews? That's rich. Hate to say it, but one hit from Mathews and that'd be that – those guys play rough."

He wasn't far off. From what I could tell, it hadn't exactly been a close fight; it hadn't been Two-Bit pinned against the wall.

"True," Jerry hummed. He looked at me and smiled. My knees, as they usually did whenever I saw Jerry, went weak, so I was glad to sit down.

"Hey, Bridget," he said, as though he was just seeing me. "How'd you like the fight?"

I snorted humorlessly and pulled out my apple, twisting the stem. "It was awful. I was so afraid Mrs. Bloom would drag me off, too."

There was this game we played as kids where you took an apple and twisted the stem, and with each twist, you would say a letter of the alphabet. Supposedly, the letter you were on when the stem broke was the first letter of your future husband's name. I still played the game with myself, twisting and silently singing the alphabet song in my head. Today, the stem broke on K, and I was mildly disappointed it wasn't J.

I didn't even know a guy whose name started with a K.

xXx

The last two people I expected to see when I shut my locker were Kathy Lawson and Sylvia Capoletti, but the two people I saw when I shut my locker were Kathy Lawson and Sylvia Capoletti.

"Hey," Sylvia greeted, snapping her gum.

"Hi," I said softly. Kathy said nothing, but she didn't have to. They were both tougher girls than I was, and they didn't have to open their mouths for you to know that. It was all in the way Sylvia chewed and Kathy crossed her arms.

"So," Sylvia began, "heard you broke up the fight between Watson and Mathews. True?"

"Um. I didn't…I didn't do anything," I insisted.

"You don't have to do anything to break up a fight," Kathy snapped, like I was stupid. "We don't mean you gotta get in between 'em. All you gotta do is say somethin'."

Sylvia nodded. "It ain't rocket science."

I could not tell you which one I thought was meaner. Hugging my books close to my chest and avoiding eye contact, I told them, "I don't see why you care so much," but with none of the heat that they had.

Kathy rolled her eyes. "These cheerleader types, huh?" She asked Sylvia, and Sylvia nodded. I had no idea what they meant by that.

"Don't play stupid. We care because y'all need to start keepin' your boys in line. They're the ones actin' out. Watson threw the first punch, not Two-Bit."

I knew I should have just kept my mouth shut, the way I always would have before, but it was getting harder and harder to do that for some reason. Maybe because I had never had this many people bug me before. "I don't even know Matt Watson, so how am I supposed to keep him in line?"

They didn't like having their words thrown back in their faces, and I wondered if maybe they would try picking a fist fight with me, and I didn't know what I would do if that happened. Probably just curl up in the fetal position and cry. Kathy stepped up and got right in my face and said, "I don't care if you gotta memorize all the names of all the socs on the West side. We don't want any more trouble with y'all cuz we're the ones gettin' blamed for it. Get a leash on them boys. You hear me?"

This was maybe the strangest conversation I'd ever had. Like something out of one of those horrible juvenile delinquent movies they show at drive-ins. But I didn't like Kathy getting in my personal space, so I gulped and squeaked, "I hear you." And she took a step back.

"Good. We really mean it, we're sick of the trouble. We're sick of gettin' blamed for all of it." She nudged Sylvia. "Let's get outta here."

I stood there with my books and watched them leave, and then at the last second, Kathy spun around and walked halfway back down the hall so she could get one more word in.

"Last thing." She held a finger in my face, snapping her gum hard and staring me down. She was so close I could see where her dark blonde roots were starting to grow out and into the bleached look she had going. "I don't know what sorta game you're playin', but just cuz you're some rich bitch don't mean you can have whatever guy you want. Got me?"

I nodded, but was confused – why would Kathy Lawson care about me liking Jerry Thompson?

xXx

There was a string fraying at the hem of my nightgown, and it was just driving me up a wall. I picked at it with my nails, but it wouldn't come off. I would've grabbed a pair of scissors to cut it off, but I was comfortable sitting out on the porch just off my room, staring out at the sky and the setting sun and the town, its nightlife hotspots just heating up. What were they doing? Did they hunt up poker games and house parties, even in the middle of the week?

The sun may have been setting, but even in the fall, it was still pretty steamy in Tulsa. After cheer practice, I had come straight home and took a cold shower, trying to cool off some. Then I slipped into a loose-fitting nightgown, and that was how I came to be out my porch. Dad was grading some papers while he ate his dinner downstairs – I had made it. My grandmothers and aunts had taught me how to cook. They were all housewives for the most part, and they assumed that was the path I was going to take in life too. So, since I was bereft of a mother, they stepped in and essentially taught me how to be a good wife: some cooking, some sewing, and how to do laundry. I can cross-stitch and a few other crafty things. I could be in a housekeeping magazine, posing as a perfect housewife, and no one would know I was just sixteen.

I was thinking about Jerry. He was always on my mind, at least just sitting there in the back of it. I had never felt that way about anybody. He was handsome, almost as handsome as Sodapop Curtis. Maybe just as much, but in a different way. We got along fairly well. We were the same age. I didn't think I had said anything to offend him. Maybe a relationship – a romantic one, with dates and flowers and prom dresses – would actually work between the two of us. A girl could dream.

But there was something about that.

There would be no going back for me if I began dating Jerry. A cheerleader and the quarterback – it almost sounded too good to be true.

The phone ringing pulled me out of my daydream. Dad had finally gotten a phone line installed in my room, and it wasn't a party line either; it was a pink princess phone, and it sat right on my bedside table, and I am a bit embarrassed to admit that I was extremely excited when he got it for me. I think I might've squealed a bit.

"Hello, Bridget Stevens speaking," I greeted, lying on my stomach on my bed, legs kicking up behind me.

"You will never believe what I've heard."

I rolled my eyes. "Well hey, Vickie. What did you hear?"

"Well, not just what I heard. Marcia is here too, and it's more like what we heard."

"And what would that be?" I twirled the phone cord around my fingers, waiting for her to answer.

"We heard that a certain someone was talking about you today in his calculus class," Vickie sang. I could hear Marcia giggle next to her.

"Oh?" I said, trying not to sound too eager. I didn't want to give Vickie any impressions. I mean, she already had an impression. But still.

"Mmhmm. Jerry was talkin' about you today. Sounds like someone's got a crush," Vickie purred, teasing.

"That's just gossip," I insisted. "You weren't there."

"Maybe so, but it doesn't take a genius to see he likes you. He keeps walking you to class." She paused. I could practically hear her frowning. "Wanna know another bit of gossip?"

I bit my lip. "What?" I asked.

"Word has it that thanks to you, you landed Two-Bit Mathews in detention for the rest of the week." Vickie laughed, and I could barely hear her whisper something to Marcia, but I couldn't make it out.

"Well, I didn't mean for that to happen – "

"Aw, c'mon. Don't act all cut-up. We're talking about the idiot that annoys the hell outta you every day and has since the first day of school. I mean, c'mon! Mrs. Bloom sees him fighting, and without Matt Watson there, it really makes him look bad. You confronting him and telling Mrs. Bloom he was beating up Matt…it's the perfect revenge, Bee."

I groaned. "You know he came up with that name, right?"

"Well, looks like it's stickin'." More whispers. "It ain't so bad. It's kinda cute if you think about it. Maybe Jerry Thompson's not the only one carryin' a torch..."

Both of them started laughing on the other end of the line, and my jaw dropped. "You take that back, Vickie. You take that back right now."

"Cool your jets, Bridget," Vickie said, her annoyance cutting through the laughter. "I'm sure people will get over it soon enough. Hey, we gotta get going, but before I go, I'm having a party at my place next Saturday, so your ass better be there, and it better look cute. Got it?"

I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Got it. See ya tomorrow, Vick."

"See ya, Bee Stevens!" She giggled before hanging up.

I couldn't help but wonder why she had invited Marcia over but had neglected to invite me.

It was probably nothing. I was probably overthinking it.

Thanks for reading!