A/N: Another chapter...again thanks for the reviews! They will spur me along to write more!

Ponyboy's POV:

Score one with Two-Bit.

I made my way to the address that Curly had given me. We had started hanging out after I punched that soc. He came up to me offer me a smoke and snarled "Good going." He reminded me of Dally in some odd dangerous way I suppose.

The house was nicer than ours but still a greaser's house. Without knocking, I stepped in. It was busy, dirty and noisy: perfect for a party. I scanned the crowd for Curly and spotted him with a group of guys from school.

"How'd you weasel this?" Curly asked impressed. "This is Mike, it's his party." The kid next to him nodded at me. He was older with blonde hair and tired gray eyes. He grinned a slow, tight smile.

"You're the Curtis kid. Soc killer."

"I should put that on my business card." Him and Curly laughed. Mike put his hand on my shoulder and nodded to the other end of his house.

"The real party's upstairs. You coming?"

I looked nervously at Curly, hoping it didn't show. I didn't exactly know what 'real party' meant. I thought we were already here. "You go ahead," Curly said. "I got some dealings to take care of." He looked angrily at a few boys who had just come into the house. More like beatings to take care of, I thought

I didn't really want to be left behind with Mike, but what could I say without looking like I was a scared kid. "Sure." He led me upstairs to a room where numerous kids were hanging out. They looked up uneasily when the door opened but then forgot about us as we passed by.

In the corner of the room I saw a group of kids huddled around a glass table: 3 boys and a girl. Dim light made me squint as I approached and then I saw thin lines of cocaine being cut on the glass with a razor. Streaky smears of white were left behind as the girl snorted heavily.

Unconsciously I backed up. This wasn't my scene. "What's wrong man?" Mike pushed me forward. "Pull up a…" he trailed off seeing no chairs available. "Pull up a cushion," he laughed tersely. Unwillingly, I walked to the sofa, sitting down awkwardly.

I looked around the room almost wishing Soda, Two-Bit or even Steve were here to bail me out. And smack some sense into me. Glory, I sure didn't feel any tonight.

The girl, having just snorted, looked up stupidly at me. "Hi," she lisped. Her long, limp hair hung over her bloodshot eyes.

"Hi."

"Your turn!" Mark announced scaring me.

"Oh, no. That's…fine…" I couldn't think of a polite turndown for taking drugs.

Somehow, any refusal didn't exactly fit in with the atmosphere of the stuffy room. Then, "I don't have any money." I offered up what I hoped was a more valid reason.

"Please. First taste is free." All eyes looked at me.

How generous of you…

I bit my lip. Darry and Soda had never really had a chat with me about drugs. I knew they hated them but they thought that I was smart enough to actually not need a lecture. Hell, I was smart enough, but I could always claim stupidity.

One try, a voice inside me said. Why did you even come here? What's the point of trying to do something wild?

I had another refusal ready when Mike said scathingly, "You know just forget it. I can't believe you used to hang around with Dallas Winston. Pathetic." This pissed me right off. I hadn't spoken about Dallas since the night in the vacant lot and now this punk throws his name around like he was his closest friend.

"Fine. I'll do it," I snapped rubbing my clammy hands on my pants. Mike beamed, his eyes zeroing in on me. Cutting me a thick, fat line he handed me a rolled dollar bill. I stared at the table.

A/N: Should he do it? Should he not? MuuuHahaha Only I know!