"Johnny, we're running away," Ponyboy Curtis declared as he shook me out of my dream and dragged me to my feet.

It only took me a moment to realize where I was and what Ponyboy had just demanded of me. I thought about it momentarily – there was nothing to stay for: my father beat me and my mother ignored me – I had no real family. Sure, the gang cared for me and I loved them back, but it just wasn't the same as having a real family.

"OK," I agreed quietly, hoping that Ponyboy knew exactly what he was doing. He was running away from people who really loved him, and I hoped he wouldn't throw it away in one night.

"Its OK, Pony boy, take it easy," I offered him a cigarette which he took gratefully.

I took another one out and put it in my mouth. I inhaled deeply, and carried on, "What happened, Pony?"

"Darry…he hit me," Ponyboy managed to choke out.

"Golly…" I replied, astonished, not really knowing how to comfort him.

I was dumbstruck. I knew that Darry was a bit harsh with his punishment, but I never knew that he'd resort to physical violence. I instantly thought of my old man and memories of tremendous pain echoed through my body.

We sat on the curb, taking slow drags on our cigarettes; the smoke was making my throat itch, but calming me down nonetheless.

"You sure you're doing the right thing?" I asked uncertainly, wondering if that was the right thing to say, "running away, I mean."

A flash of pain flickered in my friend's eyes for a second before he finally answered, "I don't know, Johnny, I just don't know anymore."

"Maybe…" Pony trailed off. "Maybe," he tried again.

"Maybe we could just take a walk through the park," the boy finally finished.

"Of course, it should help clear both of our heads and maybe you can go home again," I said hopefully.

"Maybe," he repeated dully.

We walked to the park. Pony looked absorbed in his own thoughts and didn't seem to notice that he barely had anything on, and it was freezing outside.

 "Ain't you cold, Ponyboy?" I asked, my words causing him to grimace and shiver slightly.

"What do you think, Johnny?" he replied, giving me a weak grin through chattering teeth.

Right then, I heard a dull roar of a car engine. I didn't need to turn around – I knew who it was. I looked at Pony, he seemed unaffected to those who didn't know him, but I knew better. There was fear in his eyes – the look of an animal trapped in a cage reflected in his greenish-gray orbs. I knew I had the same look. I instantly thought of the blade in my back pocket. My fingers instinctively reached for it, and I held on to it as if my life depended on it.

 The car door behind me slammed and a voice slurred by alcohol carried towards the two of us.

"Hey, whatta ya know?" the tall Soc greeted unsteadily, "here's the little Greasers that picked up our girls. Hey, Greasers."

Something shiny caught my attention. I looked down at the Soc's hand to find moonlight glistening off of his expensive-looking rings. I watched, hypnotized, as I realized that this was the same boy who had nearly beaten me to death. I finally managed to say something.

"You're out of your territory," I hoped to sound threatening, "you'd better watch it."

Another Soc swore at us and they stepped closer.

""Nup, pal, yer the ones who'd better watch it. Next time you want a broad, pick up yer own kind - dirt." I heard Bob's slur. My eyes were still glued to his rings, and he was watching my face intently.

"Ya know what Greasers are?" he persisted, "white trash with long hair."

            "You know what Socs are?" Ponyboy answered with grim defiance, "white trash with mustangs and madras." The Socs smirked.

And then, as it he couldn't think of anything else to say, he spit on them.

I looked upon the scene, as if from far away, still fingering the blade in pocket. I snapped out of my daze as I saw the Socs advancing on us, and one of them stepping forward and grabbing Ponyboy by his collar.

I watched, stupefied, as they dunked his head in the fountain and I wondered vaguely whether they were gonna drown him. Then, I heard cackling to my left. I looked up into the face of the Soc who nearly beat me to death. His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight, but it didn't compare to the light reflecting off his rings. He advanced on me with his fist drawn back and I realized that he will beat me up again, but maybe this time I won't be so lucky.

I pulled my blade from its hiding place, and watched the astonishment grow on my attacker's face. His momentary shock was replaced with a smirk as he sized me up; he didn't think I would use it. He drew his fist even further back, and a spasm of fear racked my body. I looked over at Pony who stopped thrashing in the water; I watched his limp arm hanging over the side of the fountain. Without thinking, I shoved the blade into the Soc with all my strength and watched his momentary surprise turn to a look of pure anguish. I looked at the blade still wedged in his stomach, crimson staining his plaid shirt. I watched as the handsome Soc fell slowly to the ground, as if in slow motion. Faintly, I hear echoing footsteps; the rest of them were running away.

I gazed down at my hands which were colored a rusty red. I finally realized what I'd done and felt my stomach churn over and its contents rise up to the back of my throat. I tried furiously not to be sick. Finally, I remembered Pony, lying limply in the fountain, probably unconscious. I struggled to my feet and realized that sometime during that minute I fell down. Running towards Pony, I saw the ruby liquid pooling around the Soc. Right then, I knew he was dead.

At last, I reached Ponyboy, pulled him out of the fountain, and watched as he coughed water out of his lungs. Again, I fought down my stomach, turning over the incident that had just occurred in my mind.

At length, I managed to find my voice. "I killed that boy," even to me, my voice sounded hollow.

Ponyboy quickly looked up and turned a pale green. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he gave me a pleading look.

"Go ahead, I wont look," I said with the same tone. I closed my eyes.

'I killed a boy; I'm a murderer.' These words kept repeating in my head and the crumpled form of the Soc lying still in his own blood face was glued to the inside of my eyelids. I couldn't get the image out of my mind.

"What are we gonna do? The cops will be after us now," I heard Pony's voice next to me.

I rested my head against the fountain. 'I'm only 16 years old, and already I killed someone. I may go to jail. I may have to live on the run for the rest of my life. I killed another human being who had a life. Golly, he couldn't have been more than 17 or 18! And its thanks to me that he is no longer living. I killed someone!!!' my thoughts were a scrambled mush and my brain tried to process a plan of action. I couldn't drag Ponyboy into this. He didn't kill nobody. It was all my fault and now Pony was gonna be put in jail because of me.

"Lets go see Dally. He'll know what to do," I finally decided. Dally has been to jail dozens of times. He couldn't let us down. Dally's been to New York, he probably killed a few people himself. He can find a way out of anything. If anyone could help us, it was Dallas Winston. He couldn't let us down now.

With that encouraging thought, we ran to find Dally.