Disclaimer-I don't own The Outsiders. IT'S NOT MINE.

Chapter Two

Kindergarten

Dally was now five years old and his father ignored him. Dally didn't mind, he didn't like his father. His father didn't like him. Dally had been surprised when his father enrolled him in New York City's Public School. He had asked why and his farther had hit him.

"Don't ask why! It'll get you out of my hair, you ungrateful bastard!" Dally had shrugged his shoulders and went to his room. His St. Christopher necklace swung around his neck as he punched the wall, imagining the very spot he swung his fists into to be his father's face. Dally never cried anymore. Never, he didn't care. His eyes often flooded with tears, but they never fell from his eyes. He wouldn't allow it. Not ever.

It was the first day of school and Dally crawled out of bed, the alarm clock ringing. He had learned how to tell time early on. It was necessary for him to do so, because if he didn't, he wouldn't eat or anything. His father never cooked him food or bought groceries. Dally stole money from his father to feed himself. He kept all the change and would buy himself a candy bar every now and then. He also learned how to prepare food without getting sick. Dally was very independent, he had to be, else he would die. He dressed himself and went to the kitchen. He made himself a sack lunch and poured a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal. He sat down and began to eat. He checked his watch and placed his dishes in the sink. He grabbed his things and left, he didn't say a word to his father, just shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out of the apartment.

Dallas was still innocent enough to think his father actually cared. He wasn't rebellious yet. Still, Dally was tough; the older kids he met didn't know how to react to him. They could taunt him and he would punch them so hard they fell over. They could be nice to him and he would start to shake. Dally had learned that sweet-talking meant he was going to get a beating. His father did it all the time.

Dally walked into school, his hair uncombed, his teeth not brushed and he had no backpack. He didn't know how to read and he had no manners, so instead of asking for his room he demanded of the principal, "Where's the Kindergarten room, ass-hole?"

The principal was shocked. A five year old had cussed at him. He knelt down to be face to face with Dally. "Listen, son," he watched Dally flinch. He stopped and watched Dally glare at him, his body tense. "We don't talk like that here. Come with me and I'll take you to your room." He held out his hand to Dally, expecting him to take it. Dally shoved his hands into his coat pocket and stayed five steps away from him. He led him into the Kindergarten area and asked, "What's your name?"

"Dallas Winston," he said softly, not nearing him. He smiled at Dally and said, "I won't hurt you, Dallas."

Dally scuffed his feet on the linoleum floor. The principal knocked on each door and asked them if they had a 'Dallas Winston' on their classroom list. One teacher named Mrs. Gradia opened her door and smiled at Dally. "Come on in, Dallas! We're coloring pictures right now…what would you like to color? A dinosaur?" she held up a bunch of pictures. Dally took hold of the Tyrannosaurus Rex picture sat down at a table and took the black crayon. He scribbled wildly.

The principal looked at Mrs. Gradia, "I must inform you the young man swore at me."

"Did he really?" she asked, not at all surprised.

"You act like you suspected this."

"I read his file and met his father. His father cusses every other word. I imagine that Dallas picked up some bad habits from him. I'm going to do my best to teach him some manners." She smiled warmly and then shut her classroom door.

The students were all staring at Dally. One girl kept offering him a different color crayon. He ignored her and continued to scribble madly. Finally Dally had finished and Mrs. Gradia asked all the students to tell her about themselves.

It finally got to Dally and he stood up. "My name's Dallas Winston, call me Dally. I'm five years old. My favorite color is black. I want to be a jockey when I grow up. I don't want to talk to you all so just leave me the hell alone."

He sat down leaving the students with open mouths. "Dally," Mrs. Gradia said, "we don't use that language here, it's not appropriate."

"Why not?" he demanded rudely.

"It's just not…"

"My dad uses it all the time!" Dally claimed, standing on his chair, rocking it on it's back legs.

"That may be so…but none the less; it will not be tolerated here. And put that chair on all four legs! You don't want to get hurt!"

"I don't? How do you know what I want and don't want?" Dally asked, flicking boogers at the girl next to him. She shrieked and began to cry.

"Dallas! Stop that!" Mrs. Gradia yelled. "That's not nice."

"That's not nice!" Dally mimicked. "Who cares?"

She spent the rest of the day dealing with Dally. He had no manners at all. She looked forward to rest time and then laid out cots. She showed each student which cot was theirs and how they could tell by finding their name. Most students had brought a blanket and a pillow. Dally however, had not. He merely sat on his cot. Mrs. Gradia walked over to him and said, "Dally, it's time to rest. Lay down."

Dally cowered against the counter that his cot was by. He was leaning far back away from her. His eyes weren't the ice blue she had first seen, but a china blue that was filled with fear. She instantly felt sorry for him. He was afraid, of what she didn't' know. She sat down next to the cot and asked, "Do you want a pillow and a blanket?"

He didn't say anything. She walked away and brought him a spare blanket and pillow. She gave them to him, but he just let them sit on the cot.

"Dally, are you afraid of monsters?" she asked him quietly.

"No," he whispered back. She smiled and said, "Then go to sleep." She made the motion of reaching for his blanket to cover him and Dally jumped up and ran out of the room, screaming.

She started at her Teacher's Assistant and said, "Keep everyone in their cots, I'll go get him." The TA nodded.

Mrs. Gradia took after him and found him underneath the bench in the hallway. He saw her and ran through the halls screaming. A sixth grader stuck her head out into the hall to see what the trouble was. Dally grabbed her leg and hid behind her. She pulled her leg away and let Mrs. Gradia come to take his hand. Dally screamed, kicked, swore and punched. He bit her and she pulled her hand away in surprise. His teeth had broken the skin. She was bleeding, but she paid it no mind.

Kneeling in front of him she said, "Dally, what's wrong?"

He merely began to scream again. Finally the principal found him and helped the teacher take him back to class. She sank down in her seat and found herself thinking it would be a very long year…a very, very long year.

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Throughout the year, the kindergarten teacher dealt with all of Dally's problems. Eventually he could sleep during rest time without the screaming and swearing.

He didn't give up swearing or fighting and often children would come to her crying. He never said a thing as he took his punishment. He didn't cry. When it came time for graduation he didn't go sit with his father.

Mr. Winston hadn't come. So Dally sat on the sidelines alone. He took his certificate and walked home by himself.

Slowly, very slowly, Dally was turning rebellious. He didn't stay at home for very long during the summer. He went outside and ran around, coming home very late. He ignored his father's drinking and swearing. But he picked up his father's vocabulary from when he was awake and home. Dally hung out with older boys who watched after him and taught him all he needed to know to survive.

Next chapter will be when Dally joins a gang and gets in jail.