"Here, you wanna fight," Buck barked at them, "do it outside."  And with that he slammed the door.  Dallas, the nameless foe, and Sylvia all watched the rest of the party goers head back in.  Dally didn't wait, as the group disappeared and his enemy watched he took his opportunity as an advantage and pounced on the unsuspecting man again.

Sylvia grabbed at his arm, but it was her voice that stopped him: "Godamnit Dallas ain't you ever done with the fighting?"

Dally turned away from the other man, who was sporting a black eye, bloody nose and lip and a severely injured pride. "I'll stop fighting," he said slowly, his eyes staring unflinchingly into hers, "when you stop cheating."

Sylvia looked away. "It wasn't cheating if you weren't really my boyfriend-"

"You knew damn well I was your boyfriend. That's what the fucking ring means," Dally hissed, stepping forward and gripping her wrist tightly. Sylvia's heart jumped. She looked straight back at Dallas, determined not to let him know she was starting to feel afraid. She'd always wondered where his breaking point was. How far she could push him before he would just…snap…

"If you want to be dating me you'd better act like it then," she said coolly. "And I don't mean the occasional date to a drive-in where we don't even watch the movie, or to a bar where you end up leaving me to go play pool. I mean somewhere nice."

"Oh, right, with all the money I've got on me," Dally sneered at her. "Get real Sylvia. I'm a greaser, same as you. You know me, and you knew what you were getting when we got together. You want to go to a country club or shit like that then get lost. Go see if there's some desperate Soc who'll take you."

Later, he'd kick himself for saying exactly what he didn't mean to say. He'd curse his temper and blame it on being mad about Johnny. He'd rage in private and act cool with his gang, and try not to let on that he felt like he'd explode if one more person came up to him and asked him about what happened with Sylvia.

"You ain't nothing but a whore," he said then, "and I'm through with your shit. This ends here." Releasing her wrist, he turned and stalked back to the party. By the time he'd reached the door he'd regretted what he'd said, but one quick look back and he kept moving. Sylvia was wrapped up in a passionate embrace with her nameless hillbilly.

Dally made sure to slam the door as he went into Buck's.  No one noticed beyond the screaming country music and the drunks laughing, arguing, or making out.  Dally groaned, he didn't want to be here tonight, at the same time he didn't want to go back outside where Sylvia might see him and catch on that she'd caused some kind of emotional response in him.  Instead he decided to head up the stairs and try and crash, while he could still get some sleep.  As his head came within inches of the pillow he heard a loud bang followed by several thuds and some screaming.

"Fuck it!" He swore pulling himself out from underneath the sheets.  Pulling his shirt over his head he shuffled out of the room, and before he knew it he was being scooped up by a man in a uniform who banged his face of the stair railing and began reading him his rights.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dally demanded.  He cringed and held back a yelp as the police officer twisted his arm harder.

"I'll lay it down straight," the officer leaned over close to Dally's ear.  Dally ground his teeth together as the officer's hot breath began to creep down his neck.  "You're Dallas Winston, 16-year-old punk at a drinking party; no doubt you've had some…which by law you ain't allowed to consume until you're 21 years of age." 

Dally swore under his breath then piped up, "I ain't drank any thing tonight."

"Is that right?" The officer oozed haughtily.  "And why should I believe you?"

"Because I ain't lyin'," Dally growled.

"Well, we'll let the chief down at the station make that judgment."

Dally rolled his eyes as he felt the officer slap a set of cuffs on his wrists.  He wanted to kick himself as he watched a couple of his friends being drug off, no doubt for under age drinking.  If he'd just stayed in the room they probably would have overlooked him, and he decided that he'd have been more comfortable here than spending the night in the slammer.  At the same time, he half chuckled; he had no idea who that officer was yet the officer knew him…apparently all too well.  The Infamous Dallas Winston, he thought.

"The Infamous Dallas Winston…fucking joy," Dallas muttered. Sitting on a top bunk of a 4 person jail cell alone, knowing he was likely to be there for at least a day or two was a bit of a downer. At this moment, he could have cared less about his rep.

Footsteps and loud cursing made him sit up sharply.

"In here 'till you cool down enough to learn why fighting's bad," a cop said, roughly shoving a young man of about 20 into Dally's cell. Dally squinted at him; for some reason he looked familiar.

"Yeah? Well where's that goddamn Soc huh? How come he's not stuck in a lousy jail cell to cool down?" the young man spat. "This is bullshit!"

The cop walked away, completely ignoring the man.

Dally watched his cellmate curse and holler until his ears were ringing and the young man's voice was hoarse. The cop never came back, and no answers were given. Still the man kept yelling. 'Some people never learn,' Dally thought.

"Hey," he said suddenly, during a pause in the man's rant. "You wanna shut up? They ain't gonna tell you nothing, believe me. And all the yelling in the world ain't gonna get you out of this cell."

The man looked around, seemingly surprised that Dally was there. When he spotted him, his face flushed and an angry look came on his face at being told to 'shut-up' by someone younger than him.

"I'm in the right here," he growled. "That goddamn Soc was the one who started it. I didn't even-"

"Soc's always get off easy." Dally shrugged. "Greasers don't. Live with it."

The young man glared at him. "Who the hell do you think you are kid?"

"Dallas Winston. Please ta meet ya."

The man's eyes widened, but he shrugged off his surprise. "I heard about you. Thought you'd be older though, and bigger," he said, eyeing Dally's slight build.

Dally rolled his eyes. "Right, and I'll bet all the greasers you know have tons of food to bulk up on huh."

The stranger was quiet for a minute. "I'm Jack," he said finally. "Jack Anders."

Dally cocked his head to the side. He'd heard that last name somewhere…Anders. But he couldn't remember where from. He didn't like the guy so much, he seemed too innocent and righteous. But he was bored, and there was nothing else to do but talk to the guy.

"Why were you fighting?"

Jack shook his head looking glum. "It wasn't my fault. This dumb Soc started it. I was just getting even."

"What did he do?"

Jack sighed. "He was bugging my sister Bonnie. Trying to get with her, even though she wasn't having any..."

Something in Dally's brain clicked. He knew that name. Bonnie Anders…she was Darry's old girlfriend.