A/N: Thank you all SOOOO much! I love all of you! streetpanther1, I'd appreciate it if you didn't burn my The Killers CD, please. :) And, by the way, this chapter contains explicit Tim/Dally. So, if you're a homophobe or very squeamish, hit the god damn "back" button on your browser. I'm not in the mood to receive any reviews like this: oMgWtFlOlBbQ, gOd MaId AdAm N eVe, NoT tIm N dAlLy!111111 iM gOnNa TeLl PrEsIdEnT bUsH!1111 i BeT you're a bAbY kIlLer 2!1 I've never gotten a review like that, but my little black heart will bleed if I do. And, starbryte, the last part of what Curly was going to say in chapter eight was, "And Tim will be groping Dally the whole time."

Disclaimer: I only own Alicia, Travis and all the other characters you don't recognize. Everything else is © S.E. Hinton

"And the moment Franz Ferdinand stepped out of the car, the assassin shot two bullets. One struck Franz; the other hit his wife, Sofia…"

La la la… Alicia was leaning back in her chair, filing her fingernails. Her long hair draped onto the desk behind her, making it hard for the kid that sat there to take notes. She examined her index nail. I wonder what Travis's favorite color is. Should I paint my nails that color? But what if it's an ugly one, like shit brown? Or it could be nice like deep green or scarlet. Maybe I'll see him in the hall today. Then I'll ask him. She looked at the clock. There were five minutes until the bell. Then it was off to English. Gathering up her mess of black hair, she grabbed a hair tie and braided it. I wonder if he likes my hair better in a braid or down. Maybe I should just put it in a bun and forget about it. I have to ask Angela; she'll know what to do.

Although Alicia hated to admit it, she was somewhat jealous of her sister. Even if they were twins, Angela was prettier than her. Angela wore make-up and fixed her hair every morning. Alicia hated make-up and rarely fixed her hair. For that matter, she rarely brushed it. It was always falling down her back or in a messy braid. Angela was stunning no matter what she wore or what she did to her hair. It infuriated her sister, because Alicia liked to compete with her. And, no matter what Alicia did, no matter how much make-up she wore, no matter how dramatic her hair was, she was never as pretty as Angela. So she gave up on make-up and hair spray.

The bell rang, and Alicia leapt to her feet and ran after Angela. Her sister was talking to another girl and from the sounds of their conversation, Angela was telling this chick to, "back off Bryon, or I'll beat the shit outa you, and that's a promise." Alicia laughed to herself. Angela was tough, but she was too sure of herself sometimes. The girl scoffed and walked away.

"Angel, I have a problem."

"Yes, yes you do."

"No, I'm serious."

"Spill it. There's only four minutes till the tardy bell rings and my next class is on the other side of the building."

Alicia took a deep breath. "I think I like someone and uh..."

"You're worried about your appearance because you know that guys like that." Finished Angela, with a smirk.

Alicia blinked. "Er… yeah."

"One thing, Ali. Take out the braid and put your hair in a bun." Alicia did as she was told. Angela reached up and pulled a few strands loose. "There. Now you look like a real girl." Angel smiled, turned and strutted away, passing several guys who stopped and stared.

Alicia looked at the clock. Three minutes until the tardy bell rang, and she couldn't risk another late. She already had three, and a fourth would mean detention and she had rehearsal tonight. Miss Narwin would bust an artery if she missed another one. Alicia sprinted down the hall. The only problem was her boots were too big and she tripped right into someone. They were carrying several books, and they spilled all over the ground. "Ouch! Watch where you're going!" Exclaimed a familiar voice.

"Sorry, sorry!" Alicia bent down to pick up the books. As she looked up, her eyes met soft, dark-brown velvet ones. "Travis!" She cried.

He looked startled. "Oh! Hi, Alicia. Feel better after the fight?"

"Sí, hombré. Estoy bien, y tù?" Travis stared at her. Oh, God, it's happening again. Whenever Alicia got very nervous, she spoke in Spanish. All the Shepard children spoke Spanish; after all, their mother was from Mexico and she'd insisted that they learn it. She blushed a violent shade of crimson. "I'm sorry, I just got out of Spanish class and…"

"But, the Spanish room is on the other side of the building."

Shit. "Uh, did I say Spanish? I meant French, uh, whatsyourfavoritecolor?" She blurted. Shit, shit, of fuckety, fuck, fuck. Fortunately, Travis laughed. "Black or blue. What's yours?"

"Uh… I forget."

He smiled at her. Alicia's legs melted, and she grabbed the wall next to her. "You're so weird." He laughed as he walked away.

Alicia sighed. He laughed at me. Is that a good or a bad thing? Her happiness was shattered as a loud ringing filled the air. "Oh shit!" She screeched as she sprinted down the hall to English.

"You're late, Miss Shepard." Alicia's teacher, Mrs. Boleyn, was a tall, skinny woman with a hooked nose, grey hair and yellow skin. She looked down at her student and raised an eyebrow. "I would give you detention, but Miss Narwin informed me that you were in the play, so I'm giving you a break."

"Thanks, Mrs. Boleyn."

"Take your seat. As I was saying, I want you all to take out a pen and a piece of paper and write a three page essay on your family."

Alicia collapsed in her seat, letting the teacher's words wash over her. She closed her eyes and envisioned Travis taking her somewhere, like the movies. Then she heard the sound of pens scratching on paper. Huh? She sat up. What am I supposed to be doing again? She looked anxiously at the kid's paper next to her. My older brother is amazing. He talks with me all the time and he taught me how to play soccer and basketball.

The thought of Tim or Curly teaching Alicia anything besides how to blow smoke rings and fightwas almost laughable. Write an essay on your family. What a shitty idea. What the hell am I supposed to write? My mom is an illegal immigrant from Mexico who drinks more than an elephant during a draught, my dad smokes like a chimney, oldest brother sleeps with guys, my other brother has the mentality of a fifth- grader on acid, my sister is a whore without actually having sex, and I'm a loudmouthed smartass who couldn't get a boyfriend no matter how hard I try. Yeah, that's a real great essay. She rolled her eyes and picked up her pen. By the end of the period, she had little more than a paragraph.

My mother came from Mexico in the back of a guy's truck. She was then smuggled into Oklahoma by her sister. Here, she met my father, the local bartender. Together, they had four children. Tim, the oldest, 18, was a womanizer until he met Dallas Winston. He fell in love with Dally, and now they are a couple, and Dally is Tim's bed-mate, if you know what I mean. My other brother, Curly, 15, has a good heart, but is lacking in the brain area. My twin sister, Angela, plays and ditches boys like most kids do with toys. She has yet to find someone she really likes. And I'm a loudmouth, smart-aleck who needs an attitude adjustment and a boyfriend.

Alicia looked at her "essay." She decided she needed to work on it at home.

Tim dropped onto the couch. He had just gotten back from the store to buy some cigarettes. Oh, how he loved being eighteen. He could buy cigarettes and not even have to have a fake ID. The downside of it was that he usually had to buy cigarettes for all his siblings, too. Tim lit one and leaned back on the couch. At that moment, the phone rang. Probably mom or dad wanting me to come pick them up because mom hit a stop sign again. "Hello?"

"Tim?" It was a male voice, but not his father or Curly or any of Angela's boy-toys.

"Hey, Dal," Tim said, trying, and failing, to sound sexy after inhaling smoke.

"Wanna do something?" How does he manage to sound so hot all the time? Tim pondered, as he imagined what Dally was planning on doing. "Tim?"

Tim fell back to reality with a painful crash. "Oh, yeah, sure. My place or yours?"

"Uh, you can come over here. Aren't your sisters and brother going to be home in half an hour? When does their school get out?"

"Nope. They're all in their school play and have to stay after for two hours." Curly had been cast after he was caught putting a cherry bomb in a school toilet. The teachers thought it would make him better behaved. He was cast as the Thanksgiving turkey.

"So, can I go over there?"

"Sure."

"Nice. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"See ya then." Tim hung up and ran into the bathroom. He sprayed a little cologne on and grabbed Angela's hairbrush in a vain attempt to tame his curls. Then he ran back into his living room and straightened it up a little. He folded the blankets that were strewn all over the floor and brushed the breadcrumbs off the couch. Sighing he fell back onto the couch. Then he looked down at what he was wearing. A stained, dirty white shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He looked like a homeless person. Whatever. I'll just change. Tim was just about to pull the shirt off, when the doorbell rang. As he ran to answer it, he tripped over a chair leg, crashing onto the floor. "Shit!" Panting, he grabbed the doorknob.

Dally was standing on the step, looking mildly amused. "What happened?"

"I tripped."

"Over what?"

Tim looked at his feet. "A chair."

Dally laughed. "A chair?"

Tim wrapped his arms around Dally, pulling him closer. "Yeah," he said, gently kissing him. "A chair."

Dally laughed, softly. "Tim… we're still outside, people are on the streets, mmm, oh, God!" Tim's hand had brushed over Dally's groin, and the younger boy's knees buckled. He grabbed onto Tim before he fell to the floor.

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Wanna go inside? It's more private in there."

Dally grinned, knowing full well what Tim had in mind. "Okay."

The older greaser pulled Dally into the living room. Tim made to kiss Dally, but pulled away at the last second. Then, he skipped away and went to the other side of the room. Dally was in no mood to be played with. He was male, he was horny, and, frankly, he wanted Tim to fuck him. "Tim," Dally whined.

Tim smiled, seductively. "Yes, Dal?" When Tim was caught off guard, Dally charged at him, full-force and tackled him. The younger boy pressed his lips to Tim's with surprising strength. When they broke away, Tim groaned, "It's called 'building the sexual tension,' Dally, Jesus Christ."

Dally's hand slipped up Tim's shirt. "I don't care about sexual tension, Tim." Dally's white-blond hair fell over his forehead and his ice-blue eyes were sparkling with lust and love. He pinched down hard on one of Tim's nipples. Tim moaned and clutched the carpet. The muscles on his forearm flexed. Dally grinned and lifted the hem of Tim's shirt, feeling around his chest and stomach.

"Da-Dally…" Tim's voice was hoarse.

Dally blinked, innocently. "Yes, Tim?"

"Please, please…" He had now resorted to pleading.

Dally's hands went lower. His fingers were tracing circles around Tim's navel. Then, they grazed the top of his boxers that were showing over her jeans. Tim groaned and arched his back. Dally grinned wickedly as he toyed with the button on Tim's jeans. What seemed like an eternity later, he unbuttoned them and was unzipping them at an achingly slow pace. Tim whimpered and gripped the carpet tighter. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and a little perspiration formed on his forehead.

Finally, Dally had removed Tim's jeans. He hooked his fingers over the elastic waistband of Tim's boxers. As Dally started to pull them down, Dally paused and frowned. "What's wrong?" Tim rasped as he sat up.

Dally started unbuttoning his own shirt and smirked. "I felt overdressed."

"Oh, no you don't." Tim reached up and grabbed Dally's hand. "You undressed me, now I get to repay the favor. Now, lay down." Tim shoved Dally down on the ground and straddled his waist. He bent down and kissed Dally roughly, as he played with the buttons on his shirt. The moment said article of clothing was off, Tim's hands were all over Dally's chest. He started to play with the button and zipper on Dally's jeans.

Tim undressed Dally much faster than Dally did to him. Within thirty seconds, Dally was stripped down to his boxers. Tim was lying on top of him, devouring his mouth. Dally's hands were tangled in Tim's hair. Neither of them heard the creak of the porch or the door open.

Alicia and Travis walked home together. She didn't have to go to rehearsal after all that afternoon. They were rehearsing the last half of the play and since she was only in the first half, she didn't have to go. She met Travis outside the school and they decided to go to her house for a while, because his siblings' babysitter was at his.

As she reached for the doorknob, Travis noticed the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. It was just a small tattoo of a blue and green fairy with black hair. He gently touched it with the tip of his index finger and she felt like her skin was burning. She blushed and he smiled at her.

Alicia opened the door and the first thing she heard was a moan of pleasure. It sounded a lot like… "Tim!" Lying on the floor was her brother, Tim Shepard, and underneath him was Dallas Winston. Tim's hand was down Dally's boxers and both of them were flushed and sweaty. It was one thing to come home and find your older brother having sex with a girl, which Alicia had actually had happen. But it was a whole other deal to come home, with the guy you liked, and find your brother on top of another guy.

Both Tim and Dally looked up. Dally had a stupid grin on his face and Tim looked surprised. "Alicia! Er, this isn't what it looks like!"

Her eyebrows rose and were in danger of disappearing under her hair. "Oh, really, Tim? This is what it looks like: you are lying on top of another fucking guy and both of you are three-fourths naked. Your hand was down his pants, and unless I'm mistaken, you were about to have sex." She swayed a little and went very pale. "So, Tim, what were you really doing?"

Tim looked down. "Er…"

Alicia laughed, almost hysterically. "I knew it!" After her laughing fit was over, she said, "so, Tim, why were you having sex on our living room floor instead of in a bedroom or bathroom like a normal person?" Her voice was level, calm even, and she was looking at him like a cat looking at prey.

Tim coughed. "We, uh, couldn't, er…"

"Oh, Jesus, don't tell me that you couldn't even make it upstairs. Christ, even Curly can make it upstairs." She groaned and sank down onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

"Well-" Tim had, by now, rolled off Dally and was sitting upright. Dally was still lying flat on his back, but he wasn't as tense as before.

"Well nothing, Tim! You had him come over, and then you were about to have sex on our living room floor! You're just pretty fucking lucky that I came home before ma or dad did! If they woulda come home first, they woulda skinned ya! Tim, when are ya gonna start being a little more responsible about where you are when you're having sex? Remember Monica?" Her voice was rising to a more hysterical pitch.

Tim winced. "Oh, God, don't mention her…"

Alicia stood and turned to Travis, who was standing in the doorway. "I am so sorry! If I would've known, I swear, I-"

Travis only smiled. "It's okay. I mean, I understand. We can go back to my place."

Her face brightened. "Okay, thanks. Let's go." As she walked out the door, she turned and looked straight at Tim. "I'm not finished with you yet." She said in a dangerously low voice.

The moment Alicia and Travis were out the door, Tim faced Dally. "Well, that could have gone much worse. Wanna finish upstairs?"

Dally grinned and nodded. "Let's go. Just… lock the door this time."

A/N: Okay, just a quick note: Track season is starting and I have to stay after school for two hours for practice, and I have homework. So, updates will be less frequent, but I PROMISE, when I get the chance, I will try to type my little heart out. So, expect an update once every one or two weeks. And, just because I love you all SOOO much, here's a snippet of chapter 11…

As Angela walked through the front door, she heard the shower running. Finally, Tim is taking a shower. She thought to herself. But, wait, that wasn't Tim's voice she was hearing. Or, it was Tim's voice, but why did she hear Dally too? She remembered what Alicia had said about seeing Dally and Tim having sex on their living room floor, but wouldn't they have learned by now? Angela tossed her bag and coat on the floor as she peered down the hall and saw the bathroom door open. Oh, Jesus. Some people just never learn. They put locks on doors for reasons.

(Cackles manically) Well, that's about it. Please review! (Runs off singing) Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? (Oh, God, I need to stop watching Moulin Rouge)