Chapter 1:

For as long as I could remember, I've always had someone protecting me. When I was born, it was Dallas. He was two and a half years older than me, and if he had lived just a few months more, he would've been eighteen.

Dallas and I both had wavy brown hair, and bright blue eyes, the kind of blue that you don't see everyday. But that's just about where our similarities ended. He was tall, about six feet, and I'm pretty short, only about 5'2. Dallas had a mischievious grin, and I had more of what Soda called a "cupcake" smile. Dallas was a hood. And I was a good girl.

On Dally's ninth birthday, early October, our mother Cynthia picked me up and ran away from New York City to Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was only six and a half, and unbeknownst to me, she was four months pregnant with my little brother Hudson. Don't ask me why, cause I'll never know. I can't imagine taking one kid and one on the way from a bad situation and then leaving the third to suffer the consequnces of your actions, especially on his birthday

I guess that memories have a way of blocking themselves. The older I get, the more I remember, but Dallas had to fill me in on some of what went on back in New York. Our father would get high or drunk and beat our mother, and then Dallas. He would try to go after me, but Dally wouldn't let him. The only thing I did remember, is that I had drawn a picture for Dally of a horse. I had made him blue, and he was barely recognizable as a horse, but I had worked on it for an entire week, crumpling up page after page of scrap paper I found around the neighborhood that I felt wasn't good enough for my hero's birthday present.

Cynthia had come into our room early in the morning, so early it had still been dark outside. Dallas had his arms wrapped around me, and he stayed perfectly still and slept through our mother picking me up and taking me out of the room. "Where are we going mommy?" I had asked. "To get Dallas a present!" Was her response. I had giggled as she put a finger over her mouth, telling me not to wake him up and ruin the surprise. My drawing was on the kitchen table and I grabbed it and tiptoed back to the door, slipping it underneath because I wanted it to be the first thing he saw when he woke up. before grabbing her hand and walking out of the apartment with her, unknowingly for the last time.

When Cynthia and I arrived in Tulsa, I remember we stayed the first week in a horse stable, which I would later find out belonged to her great uncle, the swell type of guy who liked to beat on women and drink the liquor store dry. Needless to say, we didn't stay long there.

Cynthia quickly found a way to make money, and boy was she good at it. So good in fact, that a new toy or breakfast from the Dingo would make me forget all about the night before, when I would have to hide in my room with the lights out and my hands over my ears, as she would have "guests" into her room. These guests were drunk, smelly men, that I did not like.

Now, she would have to spend all afternoon and evening buttering these "guests" up into coming home with her, so I would be walking around the neighborhood all my lonesome while she was at the strip club.

That's how I met Darry, and Soda, and Ponyboy.

In fact, I can remember exactly the day I met them. Cynthia and I had been in Tulsa all of a month and she was busy working. I was hungry.

The thing about having a mom working the late night shift is that she often sleeps through breakfast and lunch, so unless she took me somewhere, I was often on my own for food.

Sometimes I had cereal, that is, when there was some in the cupboard. Usually it was cornflakes, on which I was taught to pour a spoonful of sugar, or fruit loops, which were drowned in chocolate syrup, no milk. Dally taught me both. He had said that you needed your energy in the mornings, whether to fight off dad, or fight off somebody in the neighborhood. Dally had done all my fighting for me back home, so I had always figured I better get an extra bit of energy, in case I needed to fight my own battles here.

Anyhow, I went walking early that morning, because there was no food at all. I had figured that if I walked, maybe I'd be passing the Dingo at just the right time and some leftovers would be thrown in the trash can. Or maybe if I went to the park and played on the playground, I would forget about being hungry.

I got shooed away from the Dingo almost as soon as I had appeared there, but I had scored a rubber bouncing ball laying on the storm drain, and that's what I used to keep me entertained as I walked to the park.

It was a Saturday in November. The weather had started to get chilly, and I remembered wishing I had a coat to wear. The only thing I had was one of Dally's old flannel shirts, that hung down to me knees, the sleeves a good few inches past my wrists. It needed a good washing, but it still smelled like him, like cinnamon and tobacco, so I didn't mind.

Not only did we barely have food in the house, but Cynthia didn't seem to take a liking to the thought of household chores, or really, anything that involved being a parent. In fact, she hadn't even enrolled me in school yet.

When I had arrived at the playground, there were a few little girls in pretty dresses swinging on the swings. They were a few years older than me. There were also a few boys playing on the monkey bars, and I guessed they were about my age. I could just tell.

I was a little shy as a kid. I was afraid of meeting a stranger and making them angry, so I rarely talked to people, and that hadn't changed on this day. I avoided both groups of children and climbed up the stairs of the playground, sitting on the right side of a racing slide, bringing my knees up to my chin as I pulled the flannel tighter around me and watched boys a few years older than me play a game of touch football.

One boy was taller than all the rest, and stronger too. He had brown shaggy hair and freckles on his cheeks, and a smile a mile wide. The next boy looked a little bit younger than him, but was only a few inches shorter. He had reddish brown hair that was combed back with grease, and was wearing a shirt with Mickey Mouse on it. The next boy had black hair and a crooked grin. He was messing with a boy who appeared to be his best buddy. That boy had shiny brown hair and a smooth face, a smile that could light up any room. The fifth boy was blonde. He was almost as tall as the first boy, but I could tell right away he didn't fit in. The other boys wore blue jeans, just like Dally. But he wore these tan khaki pants. They wore sweat jackets and flannels over white t shirts, just like dally, and he wore a plaid checkered button up, and a sweater vest. Their clothes were worn out, "fighting clothes" Dally would say. His looked brand new, and it appeared that the only dirt on them was from that day.

I'm not sure how long I sat there staring, but eventually I caught the eye of the boy with the movie star smile. He grinned at me and waved, before getting tackled by his buddy and dragged back into the game. The little bit of hope I had that I was about to make a friend vanished, and as I stared I was caught off guard as a voice boomed from next to me "You found it!" Startled, the red bouncy ball I had been holding slid down the slide and I cautiously glanced at the boy sitting next to me. It was one of the boys from the monkey bars. He had a smile that seemed familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen it from.

"I've been looking all over for that! Where'd you find it?" I realized he had been talking about the ball, and I said softly "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was yours. I found it in the storm drain. You can have it back." Avoiding eye contact, I quickly slid down the slide and started walking away, hearing his clothes against the metal and panicking that he was going to come after me. "Hey wait!" He grabbed my hand and turned me around to face him. "I was just asking is all. You can keep it if ya want, really, I don't mind. I was just wondering where It had ended up cause I lose things all the time. My older brother Darry says I'd lose my head if it wasn't stuck to me!" He laughed.

I examined his face, looking for any signs of a coming fight. Look in their eyes, Dally would say. You can see the storm coming from a mile away.

I didn't see any signs of a fight. Instead, I saw a smile. So I slowly let my guard down, and smiled back at him. "My mommy says that about Dally! He lost three switch blades just this summer." He giggled along with me and asked, "Is Dally your brother?" I hesitated, my six and a half year old mind not knowing if he was indeed my brother anymore.

"Um, not anymore I guess. Mommy and I moved here, just us." I looked away from him at our feet. We both were wearing the same blue keds, and both of us had worn the tops so much holes were starting to show.

I don't know for sure if it was his childlike innocence, or that he just could tell what not to say, but he immediately picked up the conversation and pushed it forward. "Well I've got two brothers, so you can have one of mine. They're over there playing football with their friends!" He pointed towards the game that had ended with the boys piled on top of each other laughing.

"Do you want to meet them?" He asked me. Before I even had a chance to answer, he had grabbed my hand and walked us towards them.

"Ooooooooo" the boy with the Mickey Mouse shirt grinned as we came walking up. "Ponyboy has a girlfriend!" The kid who was holding my hand immediately dropped it and blushed as he narrowed his eyes. "Keith, I do not have a girlfriend!" "I told ya kid, my name is Two-Bit, not Keith!" He wagged his finger back and forth, a grin still on his face. I wrinkled my nose. Two Bit? Ponyboy? What kinds of names are those?

I took a step slightly behind Ponyboy, as the other four guys walked towards us, all of their eyes on me. I suddenly felt a little uneasy, and wished with all my might that my big brother was there.

"Anyways, this is my brother Darry!" Ponyboy started, pointing to the oldest, who nodded at me with a smile. "His friend Paul" the blonde kid who didn't fit in gave me a small smile, but quickly went back to a stone face. I didn't like it. "You already met Two Bit" Mickey Mouse shirt grinned at me and grabbed my hand, shaking it up and down. "The pleasures all mine!" "This is Steve" Pony continued, talking about the boy with a crooked grin. He nodded at me, quiet. "And lastly, this is my brother Sodapop!" The boy with a movie-star grin smiled at me, and before I could prevent it from happening, I said, "you have... Interesting names. Sodapop? Ponyboy? Two-bit?" I quickly realized how rude I was, and said "they're nice names! Just... Interesting" soda laughed, quirking up an eyebrow.

"A lot of people have interesting names, especially when you're named after something. And what's your name, friend of Pony?" I retuned his smile and said "Avery, Avery Jane" the boys all laughed as I blushed and laughed along with them. "That's quite an original name!" Darry pointed out. I shrugged. "My brother is Dallas, like the city in Texas. That's where my dad's from. And my mom is from Avery, Maine, so that's how they came up with our names".

"Well Avery Jane" Darry smiled. "We're going back to our house. Would you like to come?" Ponyboy stared intently at me, waiting for an answer. "Sure" I grinned, making the boys all cheer as Pony slung an arm around me and we walked out of the park.

I hadn't realized that day just how important Darry, Soda and Pony, heck, all of the gang, would become to me. But this morning as Darry knocked lightly on the door to my room and walked in, catching my eye as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I knew. I had slipped out of his room at five in the morning and walked back in here, sitting on the edge of my twin bed and staring at Hudson, who slept soundly in his, his eight year old chest rising and falling softly. I had stayed that way until about 7, when he woke up and tiredly gave me a hug, leaving the room to go get ready with the boys.

Darry smiled gently at me and walked over, taking the open zipper in the back of my dress and pulling it up. Mama had always been the one to zip me up when I couldn't do it myself, and I guess that's what I had been thinking as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

"Hey sweet girl," he smiled into the mirror, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head on my shoulder. "How're you feeling today?" Still staring at the pale girl in the mirror, I bit the inside of my cheek as I pondered a response. This would be the third funeral I had been to in a year, and the fourth person I had lost. And for the first time, I had more of a connection to the dead than anybody else in our gang of friends.

But just because I had a stronger connection, doesn't mean that they weren't hurting too. And so I chose my words carefully, my fifteen year old eyes looking into my brothers as I said "Tired". He nodded, knowing exactly what I meant, and kissed my cheek, not pressing the issue any further. He pulled away from me and stuck his right hand in his pocket, pulling out a beautiful white ribbon, before stepping behind me and tying it into the top half of my hair.

"You know what mama always used to say" he said softly, resting his hands on the top of my shoulders when he was finished. "White was Dally's color" we both said together, making me smile. It was true. Over the years, she had said time and time again that white was his color, because underneath his coldness and mean spirit, was the pure joy and innocence of a child.

I turned to hug Darry, and when I lifted my arms, I noticed the dress was a little tight around my bust, a tightness that hadn't been there only ten months earlier when Darry had gone with me to the department store and stood outside the dressing room as I tried on each black dress the sales associate had said would be "appropriate funeral attire for a girl your age". Dally wouldn't have taken me, too embarrassed to be seen in the woman's clothing section. Soda was a wreck, and Ponyboy, he was shut off from the world.

Darry was so busy with all these new responsibilities dumped on his shoulders in a matter of days, that I hadn't wanted to ask him to take me. But only two days after mama and daddy died, the first words out of his mouth were, "we need to figure out proper clothing for the funeral, to give them the right kind of send off. They at least deserve that." Pony and Soda each were able to make do with old suits that I had hemmed from Darry's closet, and each a new pair of black shoes. Well, new to us, old to Mr Peterson from down the street, whose wife had dropped them off along with a casserole. Darry fit perfectly into dad's black suit and quite literally filled his shoes. The last time ponyboy wore a suit was six years ago when he was eight, at our grandfathers funeral. It fit Hudson perfectly, and so that just left me. Moms dresses were all too big around the bust and hips, and just too long.

Not to mention, only one of them was black, and it was so beautiful, I cried when I sat down to hem it after Two bit, Pony, and Hudson helped me pin the measurements all afternoon. Darry noticed and with a flushed face, told me to hop in the truck.

I had panicked, the very real fear that now he was the legal guardian for Pony, soda, Hudson, and I, he would keep his "real" brothers and drop me and Hudson off at some orphanage, and so I kept as quiet as possible as he drove me downtown and parked at the mall. I had stayed in my seat, wide eyed at the store in front of me, as he walked around the truck and opened my door, holding out a hand for me. "Well, you coming?" He asked. Speechless, I grabbed his hand and the two of us walked through the parking lot. It was chilly for October, and we both wore flannel shirts and jeans, quite the sight to see going into Macys.

Darry pulled the sales associate aside and quietly talked to her, and I tuned him out, certain that little ol fourteen year old me was about to be handed off to a total stranger and forgotten by my adoptive family. Instead, she smiled gently at me and took my hand, snapping her fingers at a girl popping her gum as she went through the rack. The two of them picked up about a dozen dresses, and she helped me change into each one in the dressing room, giving me privacy behind a curtain and then taking my hand and standing me in front of a mirror.

The more I tried on, the sadder I got. None of them felt right. I didn't even know what I had been looking for, as mama had helped me make all my clothes, or mend ones that were donated to us from the church. New dresses were few and far between in my closet, and especially one for a funeral.

Finally, the twelfth dress I had tried on was this one. The sales woman, Irene was her name, had gasped as I walked out and she fawned over me with Brenda, her assistant, as they picked and prodded, telling me the dress was gorgeous and fit me like a glove, and that I was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen.

"You're prettier than Marilyn Monroe!" Brenda had grinned. Marilyn Monroe, that's what dad would teasingly call me as I preformed plays with pony, Hudson, and Soda in the living room, sometimes roping Darry, Dallas, and any of our friends I could manage into it as well. I knew they were only trying to be nice, but that was the last straw, and I burst into tears, causing panic to flood both of their faces. Next thing I knew, they had left the dressing room and strong arms were wrapped around me as I sobbed. I was surprised when I looked up to see they belonged to Darry. "What are you doing here?" I asked, hiccuping through my tears. His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? We're finding a pretty dress for my beautiful sister." I chocked on a sob and buried my face into his chest as he pulled me closer.

"You mean, you're not getting rid of me?" I asked, my voice probably barely audible through the fabric. He pulled back and I could see the tears in the corners of his eyes as he took his thumb and wiped mine away. "Get rid of you?" He choked out. "Why would you think I would get rid of you?" I glanced away from him, suddenly embarrassed at the way I had been feeling. It had been a very real fear less than two hours ago, and now I felt silly for even thinking it. I mean, even if they were going to "get rid of me", I probably could've just gone to live with Dallas, in that smelly room he rented from Bucks.

"I thought," I started, holding back a sob as I tried to continue. "I thought you were going to get rid of me, cause I'm not really a Curtis, and you have a lot to take care of now, and I'm just a burden". The tears fell down his cheeks as he pulled me against his chest and kissed the top of my head, rocking back and forth with me as he said "you, my dear sister, are a Curtis through and through. It even says so on your adoption certificate. And I wouldn't give that up for anything. I love you Avery, and I'm not giving up on you, okay? Never." I pulled away and cried at the mess on my brothers face. Darry rarely ever cried, and I had made him. I felt incredibly guilty.

"I'm sorry Darry" I whispered,as he kissed my nose and continued wiping the tears away, a smile spreading across his face. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about"

I smiled back at him as he turned me around to face the mirror, much like he had the morning of Dallas' funeral. "Sweet girl, how are you feeling about this dress?" I smiled into the mirror as I held into his arms and said quietly, "I feel like mama would think it's pretty". And that had sealed the deal.

...

When Darry pulled back from our hug, he gave me another small smile and walked to the doorway. "Breakfast is on the table" he said softly. "Chocolate chip pancakes. You can join us when you're ready."

Darry always understood how to be there for me. He understood that I needed a lot of love and comfort, but sometimes I also needed space, and he often knew when to give me just the right amount of each of those.

Two bit and Steve had both joined us for breakfast that morning, a scene quite like our parents funeral ten months ago, I reminded myself, and exactly the same as Johnny's funeral a few days ago. The only difference being that before mama and daddy's funeral, Dallas and Johnny had been eating with us too, and now, two empty seats stared at us as we chewed and swallowed.

The ride to the cemetary had both felt like it was taking forever, and yet like it was entirely too short. Darry, Pony, Hudson and I rode in the cab, while Two Bit, Steve, and Soda sat in the bed of the truck. I sat right between my younger brothers, and wondered just exactly how life would go on with one less brother and one less friend, if it was able to go on at all. Just the other day, I had quietly told Pony that I felt like there wasn't too much more heartbreak I could take, and that my bucket was filled, and I was worried it would overflow and drown me. He squeezed my hand as he gently said "then let me empty it out, I can swim. I'll keep you floating".

He always had a way with words that I just never could understand. It was perfect.

When we arrived at the cemetery, the only other car there was the hearse, and the back of it was opened, the funeral director and Pastor Dave both standing there, waiting for the pall bearers. Darry shut the engine off and as the boys in the back got down from the bed. I didn't move a muscle. I just sat and stared at the casket that held my brother. Hudson looked up at me from his seat and grabbed my arm, squeezing it, eyes wide.

"Am I going to see him Darry?" I asked quietly, feeling young and small, like I was the seven year old child who crawled into his twelve year old lap as I realized Cynthia was dead. She wasn't off at work or running around, she was dead, gone forever. And now Dallas, he wasn't out getting into fights or slashing tires or messing around with a beautiful girl, he was dead.

Darry paused, and I felt guilty, like I was putting him in an uncomfortable position. "Do you want to see him?" He asked, reaching over Hudson's head and putting a piece of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. I thought about it, and instantly, I was transported back to that night. The gunshots. The screaming. The blood. There was so much blood as I threw my body over him, sobbing and begging him to come back. I thought about his lifeless eyes, that were cold for a reason entirely different than their normal ice. I thought about the holes in his chest, and that he struggled for those last few breaths.

I thought about his hands outstretched towards me, as the last words he'd ever speak rolled off his tongue, my name. "Avery Jane," he rasped, as I tried to grab his hands before it was too late, to hold them one last time. I didn't get to.

"Darry, I just wanted to hold his hand, one last time. But I don't want to see him,no. Cause that's not Dallas in there, that's just his body". Darry stiffened, then relaxed and smiled as Pony held out his hand to me "Well, will you hold my hand then?" See what I mean, about Ponyboy just knowing the right things to say? I gave him a small smile, and followed him out of the truck.

The four oldest boys were the pall bearers, and all six of them were dressed exactly how Dally would have wanted. No fancy suits or ridiculous get ups. Each wore their best jeans and t shirts. Soda Two Bit, and pony wore flannels over theirs. Steve wore a denim vest. Darry wore a white button down and a black tie, and Hudson copied Darry, wanting to look exactly like his oldest brother.

I thought about what Pony said yesterday as we stood there and listened to Pastor Dave speak. Dallas just hated the world to stay very long, and we knew he'd end up this way sooner or later, but it still shook us up. Because we all thought he was indestructible. And in some ways he was. But we had to remember what Dally would say, Be tough, be strong! And we'd have to go on from there. Darry was on the verge of snapping at pony when he said this, and I knew he felt like it was inappropriate to say, but it was exactly what I had needed to hear the day before Dally was laid to rest, and me hugging my youngest brother was enough for Darry to realize he needed to let it be and not scold him.

It was true, after all. Dallas was going to end up this way sooner or later, and I was just glad he had found his way out here five years ago, and I was able to reconnect with him before it happened.

Pony held my right hand through the entire service, even as I rested my head against his shoulder. Hudson was in front of me, and I pulled him against my chest. Soda was on my left side and he grabbed my left shoulder and squeezed it as we listened to the Lords Prayer.

Darry stood on sodas left, strong and stoic like always, his eyes focusing on me. I felt like they all were focusing on me, waiting for me to collapse to the ground in tears. But that wasn't going to happen, because that wasn't part of Dallas Winstons blood, and therefore it wasn't part of mine.

After Pastor Dave had said his piece, Darry nodded at me and I reached into Ponys chest pocket, pulling out the paper he had helped me write. It wasn't very long. But it was heartfelt. And even through my heartache and pain, and Ponys physical healing after passing out that night, he worked hard to help me find exactly what to say.

Pony gave my hand one last squeeze as I walked to stand at the head of the casket, next to Darry, facing both Dallas and his best friends.

"Dallas Tucker Winston was born in October, the first cold month of the year back in New York. I always thought that was fitting for him seeing as that's all most people saw of him, his cold personality. But I got to see a lot more than that.

You see, for the first six years of my life, Dally always made sure I was taken care of. He swiped me extra food when we had none, he taught me how to dodge a fight, and when I couldn't, he would gladly fight my fights for me. He'd win too, and even when he got hurt, he would never let me know just how much pain he was in"

I glanced at their faces as I read. You see, the boys all knew bits and pieces of my past. Darry knew a lot, simply because between what mama and daddy told him, what Dallas confided to him, and what I had cried to him all those countless nights, he just knew. Before Johnny died he was the next person who knew the most, because I felt like he would understand, and he did. He was the one who had chided ponyboy just a few weeks ago for telling me I had "another choice so I didn't understand" when I had said Darry was just trying to make sure he does well, and that he didn't mean anything by hollering. "Did you know that Dally's biggest regret is not being able to take care of Avery the way you guys do? Did you know that there were countless nights he laid awake wondering what would've happened to her if it hadn't been for your family? She doesn't have a choice, Ponyboy. Dally is fit to take care of himself, he's not fit to be a parent."

But Pony and I bonded this last week as we worked together to first write Johnny's Eulogy, then Dally's. We cried together as he told me about the week in windrixville, and I told him secrets about my past I had never told a soul.

Soda, Steve, And Two Bit didn't know as much. And that was okay, because they would still understand. Hudson barely knew anything. He was only seven months old when we were adopted into the Curtis family, and three when Dally came to Tulsa, so he didn't really know him as his brother. The last five years were spent of him getting to know Dally, but still not knowing him the way I did.

As I had read the first paragraph, a tall figure had walked up to stand at the end of the line, by Steve and Two bit, his sunglasses covering his eyes. Sure, Tm Shepherd had been my brothers best friend, but I was a little surprised he had shown up.

"When he arrived in Tulsa and stumbled upon the group of rowdy boys I had come to call brothers and friends, Dallas was angry. He was jealous. He'd of never told you that, but I guess he wouldn't have to. Anybody could tell the thirteen year old pushing his little sister down in the mulch wasn't thrilled. But he quickly came to love all of you like I did, like I do, just in his own way.

I remember each smile that spread across his face, every time Mama offered for him to move in, or to be adopted, and he politely turned her down. 'Im too busy floating on the wind' he'd say, his infectious grin causing the rest of us to laugh. There was no reason for a fourteen year old to float in the wind, but even when Uncle Broderick kicked him out, he was more willing to tumble around from couch to couch then to be dependent on somebody ever again. It wasn't about you or me, it was about Dallas. And that's just the way he liked it, that's just the way he lived."

I watched as Soda wiped his face with the back of his sleeve as he tried to make it seem he wasn't crying, Steve and two bit each following suit, one looking at the ground, the other puffing out his cheeks as he tried not to let the tears fall.

"Two, Dally got a kick out of your jokes. I know he always acted like you annoyed the shit out of him," all the guys chuckled at this. "But he did find some of them funny. I've never told you until now because, well, he threatened to clean my clock if I ever did. I guess I don't have to worry about that now". Two bit snorted, smiling at me as I continued. "Steve, Dally once told me he'd never trust another soul to work on his car, and that's a compliment coming from Dally considering he never even owned a car, just stole them. Sorry for all the headaches he's caused you worrying about fixing stolen vehicles" Steve grinned at me.

"Pony, Soda, he once told me that he'd never understand me the way you guys do, and he's right. He was a tough JD. He didn't understand why a thirteen year old would cry over not getting asked to a dance-" soda gave me a soft smile and I returned it as We both remembered the night Jimmy Lincoln stood me up last minute and I bawled my eyes out that I'd be showing up to the eighth grade formal without a date, the formal that mom and I had spent all week sewing a dress for. Soda had just gotten back from an afternoon of football in the park and was getting ready for a date of his own. Instead, he called the girl and told her they had to reschedule, and he escorted me to my eight grade formal. We showed everybody up on the dance floor that night.

"Or why I liked to read so much. Dally once asked me to explain why I liked a book I had read cover to cover countless times, and when I tried to explain, he told me that my brain would turn to mush." Pony smiled at me as I continued.

"And Darry?" I said, looking up at my big brother. "Dallas admitted he was jealous of you, because you've given me a life he never could have, and I know if he was here, he'd tell you thank you. So I'm doing it for him" Darry gave me a watery nod.

Hudson had walked to me and took his place in my side, as I had talked, eyes blank as he watched the casket. "Huddy," I smiled, pulling back, causing him to look at me. "You're so much like him, you don't even know. You look exactly like he did at your age, and I know you didn't get to know him very well, but he was incredibly proud of you".

"And Tim," I said, adding him in. "You really were his best friend, and you understood him in ways I would never understand, so thanks for that". The tough hood gave me a short nod.

"Dallas Winston died young and violent and desperate, just like we knew he would one day. But he wouldn't want us to sit here and mourn his life, he'd want us to go off and live, so that's exactly what I plan on doing, and what you should too."

...

After my little speech, I had placed a single rose on the casket and we all watched as the graveyard worker came to lower it into the ground. Darry had gone to talk to Tim, and Hudson, bored, hung off of Ponyboy and begged him to take him back to the truck. I sat, watching them shovel dirt on top of the plain wooden casket, feeling like since we were best friends from womb to the tomb, I had better made sure I did my part by staying till he was eternally taken care of.

"He loved you, ya know" I turned to see it was Steve and Soda who were standing next to me, and when I glanced back, Hudson was showing off for the other four at the truck, making them laugh, and a smile appear on my face. "I know," I responded to Steve, turning back to watch as the next load of dirt was dropped. Soda wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder, just standing with me in more ways than one. And I knew he wouldn't move until I was ready to. After a minute, Steve chuckled, causing both of us to glance at him.

"Do you remember last year, when I had developed a crush on you, and had tried asking you to the dance?" I blushed as I remembered exactly what he had been talking about. I was a freshman, and Steve and Soda were sophomores. It was back before mom and dad had died, when Soda was still in school. Steve had a short-lived crush on me that we both eventually would agree was just liking me as a friend. But he had gotten the bright idea to tell Dally during one of the gang's football games that he was planning on asking me. Dally tackled him to the ground and landed two hard punches before Soda and Darry could pull him off. I hadn't been there that day, but Pony and Johnny had told me everything in private that afternoon after they had come back to the house and mama nursed Steve's bloody nose with an ice pack. I had asked what had happened, and for a long while nobody said a word, until Two Bit made up some story about a dinosaur attacking their game.

"What about it?" I asked, flustered as I felt the vibrations in sodas chest from him trying not to laugh. "He told me the next say that he was sorry, and that he just hadn't wanted to see you ever go on a date with one of his buddies because if things went ugly, he would choose you every time, and that would make things awkward." I giggled at that, cocking my head and giving him a sly smile. "well it's a good thing you wised up real quick and decided to like Evie Sanborn instead!" Both Soda and Steve laughed, with Soda chiming in, "Dallas told you what I had wanted to tell you, and was too chicken shit to say".

And so both boys stood with me as we remembered Dallas, friend and brother, until I was finally ready to leave.