Sorry about the wait. Exams officially suck.
Thanks so much Greaser4life for helping me out with the American Slang. :P

It's really appreciated.

And all the cigarettes are getting better yet
I just can't forget all the other shit
I know you're back to me, that's just fine
But you can't sleep, you're leaning next to me
Saying everything, saying everything
That you would do if you could just open your eyes
Well, open your eyes

-Even Better Yet by The Format.

Ponyboy's POV

I cut school again today. It's been five months, but everyone still stares. The socy guys in the football team hiss 'grease' at me as I walk past, and all the girls reckon I must be a regular JD 'cause I was caught up in a murder rap and all.

I was walking home on my lonesome and smoking a cigarette, scuffing my sneakers on the asphalt. I was supposed to meet Two Bit in the parking lot at school and get a ride home, but I figured cause I hadn't actually been at school that day, I'd better just walk it in case one of my teachers saw me and got wise. I'd just pretend to Darry that I forgot. He's be bound to believe me, cause just lately I've been awful forgetful. But, I couldn't forget about Windrixville, I couldn't forget how after everything, Dallas had died gallant, just like Johnny said.

I'd spent the day at the library. I'm a fast reader and I must have gotten through three books at least. At first, I picked up an old copy of 'Gone with the Wind', but as I turned the pages, I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and burning and I thought, I couldn't ever read that book again, but I had to. It was like Johnny was trapped in the pages, and I could somehow bring him back. I kept imagining him, all dressed like a Southern gentleman, his big black eyes shining as he rode off into the sun-set. Boy howdy, I have an active imagination. I mean, I guess I am imagining everything, but, I swear I could smell the pungent scent of a Kool being lit up, and the shadow of a small, dark boy skulking around the corner of the bookshelf.

Glory, I keep seeing Johnny all over. But I guess I'm just so desperate for him to come back, my mind's playing tricks on me.

'There's so much I ain't done.'

I wondered blindly if Johnny had ever been in the library. Such a normal, every day thing.

But had he?

Had he?

It was all just too late, for him…for me. He wanted me to stay gold, didn't he? But how could i? A greaser, a JD, a 'victim of society'. It didn't matter what grade I made or how fast I could run, because in the end I was always gonna be a Greaser. To the bone. At least Johnny had escaped that, a lifetime of prejudice, second rate stuff, gang fights and being jumped. I used to pretend to be proud of being a Greaser, now I feign indifference, but really, I hate it. How can I be proud of being poor and rough?

But if greasers didn't have their pride, they didn't have nothing.

I hadn't eaten all day and I was feeling kinda dizzy as I loned it home. The pavement was all blurry as I looked down at my moving feet, and my head ached real bad. I glanced at my watch and took another pull on my cigarette. 4 o'clock, good, I'd be home in time for dinner and I could make it look like I just came from school.

"Ponyboy! Where the hell have you been!" Darry yelled, coming out from the kitchen. He crossed his arms and looked at me, oddly.

Go ahead Darry, explode.

C'mon.

Go crazy.

"Why weren't you at school today?" he said, his tone softening and the hard lines of his shoulders drooping.

"I was." I lied, throwing my book bag down and kicking off my sneakers. He looked at me, real suspicious, his green eyes narrowed.

"Then why d'your principle call and tell me you weren't?" he said. Shoot, so I skip one day of classes and the world stops turning.

"I guess I wasn't." I muttered, picking up my bag and walking to my room, I hated the way he was looking at me, all concerned. I didn't need him worry about me all the time, that's why I never tell him anything. Not about what happened in Windrixville, not about what happened last week when Gary and some of his Socy buddies cornered me round the back of the bleachers, not about seeing Johnny. I was sick of people worrying about me. Call me immature, I don't care.