I WASN'T SUCH A LITTLE KID ANYMORE."

I think teachers think I'm Darry sometimes. That has to be the only reason they corner me at my locker and ask me to do things like this. If it was anyone else, I probably wouldn't have cared, but I liked Tim about as much as I liked my brother's new friends.

I kept my mouth shut until Mr. Rodgers was done talking. I didn't catch a word of it though, I was too busy glaring at the greaser with the same hate and intensity he did me. Our principal finally cleared his throat and brought the thick, round cigar back to his lips as he waved us away. I didn't waste a second getting out of there, but Tim wasn't so lucky. Officer- whatever his name was- grabbed him by the shoulder and said something before he could slip out.

There were only ten minutes left of last period when I got out of the office, so going back to class seemed like a waste of time. I decided my locker was the next best place to be since there was a high chance Sylvia was waiting for me already. As it turns out, Tim was waiting for me, too. It must be in the genes, showing up somewhere when you were certain you had just seen them somewhere else.

"What are you playing at, Curtis?"

"What do you think?" I responded cooly. He was standing in front of my locker, with his arms crossed over his chest. The chipped blue paint made his jacket stand out, same with thick dark hair and watching blue eyes. I rolled mine and did my best to shove him out of the way. "Helpin' you in science isn't how I wanna spend my free time either."

I swear all guys in this town think they're the closest thing to God. Like he was entitled to my time, or that I should be on my knees in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and landed his head against the neighbouring lockers, his eyebrows furrowed beneath dark curls. "So how'd you get stuck with the job?"

"Mr. R cornered me when I was headed to the bathroom."

"Huh. Finally got caught smoking dope?"

I grabbed my book bag and swung it around onto my shoulder. Taking one last look at my textbooks, I grabbed the one marked American History and tucked it under my arm. My locker slammed shut with a metallic clang as I wrestled the lock into place and turned back to the greaser. "What's wrong, still mad you got caught shankin' middle schoolers at The Dingo?"

I bit down on my tongue so he wouldn't see me smile. Judging by the way Tim clenched his fists, I knew I struck a nerve. I swung my bookbag around onto my other shoulder and tucked my jacket through the straps. The fabric was starting to rub against my skin, giving me either a bruise or a rash. Momma would probably lecture me 'bout not wearing my jacket, so I had to move it around before I got caught. "Your unit test is next month," I said suddenly. Tim nodded seriously, his eyes burning holes in the lockers to our right. "I think you just need to study. You get a good mark on that, an' your grade's gonna shoot up."

Doors creaked open and teenagers flooded the halls around us. With only a few minutes left until all of Will Rodgers High saw me talking with Tim Shepard, I rushed through my next sentence, just loud enough for him to hear. "You know where I live, right? I'm pretty sure I can get the house to myself Saturday."

Momma would probably be headed over to Ms. Mathews' place since she just had a baby an' all, Dad would be at work. Besides, it ain't like the boys would wanna hang out at the house when they know Saturday is cleaning day.

Tim mumbled something I couldn't understand and glanced over my shoulder. I turned, only to notice a boy with red hair walking towards us. Patrick Macrorie. I only knew his name because he was tangled up in Tim's gang. "The Shepard gang". It didn't take a genius to figure out he didn't wanna be seen talking with me, hell, I might tell the whole school he was flunking science. But, as of right now, I had no reason to. Tim had to be a whole other kind of stupid to pull something on me, but I wouldn't put it past him. He ran his tongue over his lips before he spoke again, "yeah, whatever. Saturday?"

"That's what I said. How does three o'clock sound?"

He fixated on the boy behind me again. Watching Tim almost bouncing on his feet was enough to make my stomach churn, guys like Tim didn't get antsy. At least, not without a good reason. "Yeah. I can make that work."

Then he was gone. Darting down the halls, swerving in and out of clusters of people. I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and readjusted it before I made my way through the crowds while the loud, annoying buzzer sounded overhead, reminding us of another day gone. "Another day of wasted youth," as Daddy would say. I was able to slip under reaching arms and sneak out the south exit. Smiling as I felt the brisk wind brush the hair off my face, I turned in a circle. That's when I saw her. Sylvia Jones, my best friend since kindergarten, with a thick cloud of smoke wrapping around her thick bleached curls."It's 'bout time," she whined, "you're lucky my ass hasn't frozen to my seat. We're heading to yours or mine?"

didn't go to Sylvia's. The last time I was over there, it was a couple of days after her momma took off. Syl complains all the time about her daddy's new girl, the "Step-Bitch." I can't blame her though, I'd probably feel the same way if my folks split up. Sylvia didn't follow me home, either. All she needed to see was Dally following my brothers' home and the way he watched the other girls walking by before she twisted a lock of hair around her finger and said she had to get home. I knew she wouldn't. Any time before five o'clock, meant it was just her and the Step-Bitch at home. We used to try and convince her daddy she was cheating on him, but we stopped after he slapped her one night. I knew better than to run my mouth like that, but I also knew better than to say anything when she started crying in my arms. I think that was the first time I was ever scared of Mr. Jones. Sure, you could always expect guys in the neighbourhood to be a little off, but that was the first time I saw one of 'em hit a girl. As I grew up, I realized it was a lot more common than I woulda thought, but I also realized I wasn't such a little kid anymore.

I didn't go home right away, either.

"Smells good, Momma. What's cookin'?" I kicked my shoes off and walked into the living room. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Dally were sitting on the couch. Sodapop and Steve were at their feet, looking at their cards instead of homework. Ponyboy was sitting at the table and talking with Momma while he kept his eyes on his book. I could only guess Darry was in his room, doing homework or trying to catch up on lost sleep. The boys waved to me lazily as I walked past, my backpack hanging off my shoulder. When I got to the kitchen, Momma glared at me, the wooden spoon in her hand gripped like a weapon. "Miss Marley Curtis, where on God's green earth have you been?"

"With Sylvia," I said while I shrugged my bag off my shoulder. The worn edges of my textbook stuck out, stained and ripped thanks to the dozens of kids before me. "History's really bornin'."

She rolled her eyes- brown and big, just like Sodapop's- and let her scowl melt into a smile. She kept the spoon in her hand while she raised the other to my cheek. "Why don't you bring her 'round next time? How's her daddy holding up?" Everyone knew the divorce papers came last week. Ever since the missus left, Mr. Jones had been comin' to Buck Merril's bar a lot more often. Even with a girl only six years older than his daughter hanging off him, nothing seemed to stop him from wailing on and on about his lost love. Word travelled real fast around here. I say that's the reason we all knew Missus Jones wasn't coming back for Sylvia before the papers were mailed.

We cried about that, too.

I nodded quietly and pulled the strap of my bag back over my shoulder. The lean jacket I was wearing was too big for me, it had been for years. Perks of being the second oldest, I guess. Before I got any new shirts, pants, jackets, or shoes, I had to go through Darry's hand-me-downs first. "Dinner will be ready soon," Momma reminded me. "Why don't you go get Darry?"

I made sure to ruffle Ponyboy's hair as I walked down the hallway. He was my baby brother, the only one in the whole house still small enough for me to pick on. I guess Sodapop could be pretty simple, too, but he could throw a mean right hook if you got him riled up. Pony cried out once I ran my fingers through his hair, making it stand up in all different directions. Momma just chuckled and sent me off before I could cause more trouble.

Darry's room was right across from mine and beside Sodapop and Ponyboy's. Our parents' room was at the very end of the hall, watching over all of us. I dropped my backpack into my room and popped the collar of my jacket. It was getting cold now, and I was starting to regret taking off my jacket and walking home. It was one of those chills you couldn't shake. Like a bad brain freeze, or feeling someone watch you do something you shouldn't. Goosebumps ran up my arms when I knocked on my brother's door.

It's times like this I wonder why Darry made the honour roll. If he didn't want me to open the door, why did he shout "yeah?" obviously, I am going to open the door so he can hear me better. But of course, it's my fault he doesn't have a shirt on when I do, and it's my fault the hickey on his neck is too high to be covered by a t-shirt.

"Darry has a hickey!" I scream and run down the hall as fast as I possibly can in thick wool socks and no traction. Alas, it doesn't take long for my brother and his five years of football practice to take me down. Before I can escape, his arms are wrapped around my sides and I'm pulled into the air. I keep screaming though, that is the job of a little sister. "Darry has a hick-!"

"I'm gonna kill you," Darry threatens. I'm not paying much attention. I'm too busy kicking and squirming in his grasp, tryna get my feet back on the ground. "Put your sister down," Momma calls from the kitchen, "we can't afford any hospital bills."

"There ain't gonna be any hospital bills If I kill her right now," he challenges. "See Momma, I'll do it real quick, like this-"

Before I can brace myself, the asshole starts tickling me. Years of terrorizing his little brothers and sister come back as he digs his fingers into my waist and hips, making me yell and thrash harder than I was before. At the end of the hall, I can see the rest of the gang watching me fight back. "You're useless!" I yelled, "do something!"

Apparently, I needed to specify what I needed them to do. As soon as the words left my mouth, Sodapop slapped Dally on the back of his neck. "Where you lookin' up my sister's skirt?"

All hell broke loose immediately after, Momma didn't even try to stop it. All she did, was usher the boys into the front yard while they wrestled. Darry was quick to drop me when Momma turned to us next. I woulda slipped if he didn't catch my arm. Once again, perks of being a little sister, I guess. As soon as I found my footing, Momma pushed plates into my hands and cutlery into my brother's. Without a word, I followed him to the table. I raised my eyes to Darry once I set the plates down. He looked the most like Daddy outta all of us. "What's her name?" I whispered. A thin smile pulled at his lips

"Donna," he whispered back. "Y'know, the girl with the corvette?"

Donna Micheals, everyone knew her. Smart, pretty, captain of the cheer squad. I giggled and pushed my fist to my lips before I could laugh any louder. To think that she, a Soc, gave my brother a hickey God only knows where, doesn't seem real.

I mean, we're greasers. Lowlifes, hoods, criminals and thugs. Girls like Donna Micheals ain't supposed to like guys like us. But this wasn't the first time her name passed his lips, and I don't think it will be the last, either.

When I was younger, I used to get nightmares. All four of us did at one time or another, but I still remember mine. Not so much what happened, but I remember feeling eyes watching me. Like they were in the walls and the ceiling, coming from my closet or standing by my door. I remember being terrified and sneaking into the kitchen to clear my mind. I found Darry there every time.

He said he could feel it, his heart started pounding a little faster and his stomach twisted. Something would nag him, kinda like Momma, I guess, and tell him to check on me. I don't know if he meant it, or just wanted me to feel special, but he never got the feeling to check on Soda or Pony.

I watched him walk back to Momma and I couldn't stop the chills from running down my arms. I knew it was about Darry, I only ever felt like this when I looked at him.

Things were changing. Things were changing, and I didn't know how I felt about it.