Disclaimer: If I owned The Outsiders, Johnny and Dally would still be around. So S.E. Hinton can technically say "GIT OFFA MY PROPITY!" :) Lennon/McCartney owns the song "Eleanor Rigby."

Note: This is my favorite chapter thus far. Pretty boss, in my opinion :)

Chapter Three

I went to the DX out of habit after school again, thinking Soda would be there to pick me up and we'd get a Pepsi and a candy bar and Steve could let me take off some hubcaps or something easy like that. Instead, I met a couple of real oily-lookin' greasers who just stared at me when I walked up. I tried to look tough, shoving my fists in my pockets, slouching, and shooting a moody gaze at them, so they wouldn't come talk to me, but they did anyway. It turns out that whenever there's something you don't want to happen, it'll happen anyways, every time.

"Curtis...hey, Curtis!" one of them yelled, and came running up to me. I recognized him from the rumble. He had a head of thick brown hair and mucky brown eyes and a scar splitting his eyebrow in two. I stopped in my tracks, and stuck my hands further into my pockets, slipping my thumbs into my belt loops. "You and that one kid, the one that died, y'all were the ones that killed that Soc?" I nodded shamefully, pretending I was proud of myself. I really wasn't happy with myself for being there at that moment. Where did Darry say he was going to be? "You know, me and a couple of buddies of mine were lookin' for a good fighter, maybe bust some heads later on. If, of course, you'd like to join us..." he trailed off. I knew it wasn't right. I knew I shouldn't.

I started to say, "Sorry, but I've got a couple of buddies I already bum around with," but he cut me off, stuffing his hand between us. "It's Chuck. Chuck Kendall, I'm the leader of the East Side Eagles." He pointed over at his friends one by one. The tall, thin one, with heavy grease in his hair and a busted lip was Davis. The one with white-blond hair that reminded me of Dallas' was Jim. And the real dangerous looking one, the one that could have hung round with Tim and Curly Shepard and Dally and Buck Merril, the one with the icy blue eyes that condemned upon me thoughts of only Darry and Dally, he was Tommy. Tommy cracked his knuckles threateningly with a glare.

"My name's Ponyboy Curtis," I introduced myself, not taking my eyes off Tommy for a minute. "I don't know, Chuck. I'll think about it for sure, but I've got buddies of my own to bust heads with. I'll see you around, Chuck. Thanks, man." We shook hands one last time, and I looked down at the sidewalk and started to walk again.

It wasn't until the random voice in the back of my head had grown so loud it was nearly shouting that I realized someone old and new was calling my name.

"Pony! Hey, Ponyboy!"

I whipped around to see a nice-lookin' blue car, a familiar Mustang to my right. A Soc car. It pulled over, and the blue passenger door opened. Randy smiled at me from the drivers' seat. I just stared at him. Maybe if I just kept walking, he wouldn't notice I wasn't getting in the car.

"Well, you gonna get in or what, Pony? I mean, d'you need a ride, kid?" Randy amended carefully. I nodded, and walked over to the passenger side, closing the door carefully after myself after I'd stepped in. "Long time, no see, Ponyboy. What have you been up to, kid?" It sounded like he was a long-lost brother or something. I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window. My best friend had killed his best friend, and he had even died for it. And yet how could we be so...friendly? My best friend had killed his best friend...

"Same as always, Randy. Thanks for the ride, by the way. What have you been up to lately?"

"Aw, you know," he shrugged. "I've been working a lot. It's been real nice. I like to get away every once in a while. Work's been nice, though. Takes my mind off things I don't want to think about. I haven't seen anyone in a long time, though." I didn't say anything. He sounded...off. Maybe a little too cheery. He sighed. "I heard about your brother and your friends. Sodapop and Two-Bit and Steve, right?" he inquired.

"Yup," I told him, refusing to turn my eyes his way. I knew if I did his would have some kind of sincerity in them that would just about make me want to break down and bawl like a baby. "They only left a couple of days ago. I miss them already, though. And all the girls at school are asking me about Soda. How come he ended up in the war and all. If I knew I wouldn't tell them." Randy pulled over again, stopped the car, and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

"I feel terrible listening to you talking about all this baloney like that. Why some people went and other people didn't. It's like the lottery, Ponyboy," he said miserably. "You get so lucky and you think you're just invincible. But when you see all your friends down because they can't win when you do, you just...you want to die. That's what it's like, only worse. I feel proud not to have to fight like they are, but at the same time I feel horrible that I can't be around them, or in their place because they're on death's door and I'm not. You dig, Pony?" I nodded, biting down hard on my lip. "I go to the college downtown, Pony," he told me almost out of the blue. "There's a lot of hippie kids going there and they asked me if I wanted to protest with them. I'm scared to, Pony. None of them are from around here, and I don't know anybody. I'm scared."

By this time I couldn't not look at him. He and Cherry were the first Socs to ever admit to me, a kid grease of all people, that they actually expressed some kind of feeling. Randy's eyes were as round as saucers and his mouth turned down in a wretched expression. I started to reach over for some reason, but held myself back. He swallowed loudly and looked down. We remained in silence for a long moment. And then he revved the car back into drive.

"Where do you live, Pony?" he asked briefly, and I told him. I gave him the directions, and in a few minutes, we parked outside my house. Darry's old truck was missing from the driveway.

"Thanks, Randy," I said shortly, and got out of the car. But when I came back around, it felt wrong not to say more. "Randy? You know, if y'all ever need anything, you or Cherry...just stop by, okay? Me and Soda and Darry, if any of the gang had any trouble, we'd just let 'em stay with us. It's just...you're sorta one of us now a little bit, so if y'all ever need anything, me and Darry are gonna be here for you, Randy." I saw a small grin take to his face and he nodded slowly.

"Alright. Yeah, sure, I'll be around." I nodded back, banging softly on the car with a palm and retreating back to the house. A soft, sort of haunting tune trailed from one of the Soc-lookin' cars passing by and I hummed along with it, even though it was something greasers weren't ever supposed to like: the Beatles.

All the lonely people

Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?