Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, Good Charlotte, or their song. There. Don't sue me! But I do own David and Chris. -prods- X3
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Author Notes: Thank you so much to those wonderful people who've been reviewing and reading my story! I luff you guys-clings- Anyway, I hope this part isn't so confusing. And if you were confused, I'm sorry. I'll try to bring it together in this chapter.
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
Poke. Poke. Poke.
'God, leave me alone . . .' I was lying there, wherever I was, for about 15 minutes, with someone poking me. I was too weak to even tell the idiot to stop, so I just had to endure it. After like, 100 pokes or so, I lifted my hand and whacked whatever was there.
I heard a roar of laughter.
"Damn it, Two-Bit!"
"Sorry, Dal, I didn't know that he'd hit you instead of me!"
Then, there was more laughter. I tried not to grin. Who were these guys? I've never heard their voices before. But whoever got hit by me had a tough voice, so I decided to just stop. I mean, I know I'm strong and all, but I'm not stupid enough to continue. I don't wanna get beat up or nothin'.
"Hey, are you awake, man?" I was poked again.
God, that was the final straw! "Leave me alone!" I roared, sitting up. That moment, I was met with pain that felt like a knife splitting through my head. I plopped back down, but my eyes were open now. I wasn't on the West Side anymore.
One guy grinned slyly. "Hey, Two-Bit, you made Mr. Soc mad," he chuckled. "What's your name, blondie?" he asked me. I recognized his voice now. Shit. That was Dallas Winston. I've heard about him before. One of the toughest hoods of the East Side.
"Why d'you wanna know?" I asked coldly, trying to look tough. Dallas just scoffed.
"No respect," the other guy sighed, shaking his head. I figured his name was "Two-Bit". Why the hell hadn't they knocked the living crap out of me? Then, the weirdest thing in my life happened.
That kid. That kid I jumped yesterday walked into the room. I drew in a sharp breath. Shit. Did they want to make sure I was awake before they beat me up? He stopped right in front of me, taking a good look.
"I guess what goes around comes around," he concluded, and then looked away. Dallas looked over at him.
"What the hell, Ponyboy? You're just gonna let him off the fucking hook?" he looked towards me, glaring. And God, it was scary. "Well, I ain't!" he declared, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. "Listen, buddy," he began, in a low voice, "We're just keepin' you alive 'cause Darry says so."
"W-what?"
"My brother."
Wait, so who're these people? The guy I beat up was named "Ponyboy", I figured. What a weird name. Ponyboy looked away from me, taking a seat in a nearby couch. He was looking at the ground. Shit. He had a band aid where my blade had cut him yesterday. Shit. Why? Why'd I do it? I felt so damn sorry.
"Let me make this guy sorry for you," Dallas offered, raising his fist.
"Dal, don't!" Ponyboy blurted out.
"Why not?"
"Well . . ." Ponyboy's voice trailed off. He shook his head. "Just don't! Please . . ." he sunk back into the couch, hoping not to get pounded by Dallas instead.
Dallas scoffed, gritted his teeth, and threw me back down against the soda. "Damn it, Ponyboy . . ." He got up from where he was and quickly stormed out of the house.
Ponyboy sighed, hanging his head. "Aw, c'mon, Pony, y'know Dal just offered to 'cause this is the guy who beat you up yesterday!" Two-Bit said. I winced. I was the one who did this . . .
NO! I can't start thinking like that. I'm better than these guys! But then, Chris' words started flooding into my head. 'Why do we do that stuff, anyway?' I could hear him asking me over and over and over . . .
"AHH!" I put my hands on my head. "Shit . . . this can't be happening . . ."
Two-Bit and Ponyboy looked at me strangely, but eventually, they stopped and left the house. I was all alone. I managed to sit up straight. "Now what?" I asked aloud. 'Maybe I can . . .' my thoughts were cut. I just remembered—I had no home. There was nowhere for me to go. I wasn't a Soc anymore. I had nothing. I was a greaser . . .
'This can't be happening,' I started breathing harder. "No . . . no . . . NO!" I put my hands on my head again.
"No to what?" Then, those three were there again, at the doorway. Except, there were two more guys with them.
"The news is all over town!" one of them said. I didn't know who he was yet, though.
"What news?" I asked, glaring at him.
"You were kicked out, weren't you?"
I stared at him like I didn't know what he was talking about. "No, of course not!" I said.
"Then why the hell are you here?" Dallas put in. Man, he scared me.
"It's a survival test," I declared. "My parents wanted to see how I well I could be on my own."
One of them snickered. "I guess you failed, then," he grinned.
"N-no, I didn't—"
"Yes, you did."
There was silence. I hate silence. "Look," I finally said, "Let me just lay low here for a while and then I'll be out. I don't wanna fail."
"Uh . . . sure."
Wow. These suckers actually bought it—all except for Dallas. He was glaring at me like I was spit out from hell. "I don't believe it." Heh. I was right.
"C'mon, Dal, what's it gonna hurt?"
"You sure Darry's gonna be okay with this, Soda?"
Soda. I think I remember the guy. And his friend. "You guys work at DX?"
"You guessed it!" Soda grinned.
"Wow, how did you know?" his friend asked sarcastically. "You totally can't see that we're wearing DX uniforms."
"Guess this is my home for now, huh?" I asked, putting my hands behind my head, making Dallas even madder. For me, the madder the better. I grinned.
"Fine, then. Do what you want," he spat, before exiting the house once again.
"Aw, ignore ol' Dal, he just don't trust your kind!" Two-Bit exclaimed. I raised an eyebrow at him. These people were odd. REALLY odd.
But even so, we had a lot more in common than I thought.
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Author Notes: Well, here's another chapter! Thank you again to those who're reading! And don't forget to review!