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I rode with Dally in the ambulance, half-listening as he swore and cussed. He'd pulled Johnny out of the building and burnt his arm in the process. I was helping the nurse soothe it with some sort of ointment for burns she'd had at hand. I choked back my tears when she remarked that I would be a good nurse. I knew Johnny was bad off, it didn't help that she was unknowingly bringing up my past failures. I could be somewhere else if my dad had stayed himself, but then again, I wouldn't have met Dally. I wondered if it would be worth it.

I sat beside a chubby man who'd tried to go in the church and assist Johnny and Ponyboy in the waiting room. The only thing funny about the whole situation was that he had been too fat to even get in the burning building. The others had been hauled in on stretchers.

"Is the oldest one your boyfriend or something?" he asked conversationally. It was nice to have relief from the questions that penetrated my brain.

"Yeah," I replied, staring down at my shoes. They were some old sneakers I'd borrowed from Monica.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

I nodded. He didn't have to assure me of that.

Ponyboy came out shortly. He'd been checked over and had nothing more than some minor burns and a bruise from Dally. He didn't look too hot.

The chubby man began questioning him, and I listened as he told the story, this time with interest. I knew what had happened, but I'd never heard it from his point of view. It was intriguing.

When his brothers came in, I watched their reunion. I looked down after a few moments, feeling it was a bit too personal for me to witness. They were crying, and they looked like tough guys. Scratch that, they were tough guys.

I took in a quivering breath, trying to steady myself. I wished Monica would come, just so I'd have an excuse to cry. Those weren't my brothers, they weren't my friends. I was just Dally's girlfriend, a shadow of a person in their lives, and I didn't matter. Why should I cry over these people when I hardly know them?

The chubby man noticed that I struggled. He tried again to get me talking, but instead of prattling on about something as I'd planned, I broke down into tears. I wanted my family back. I didn't belong here. It was a helpless feeling.

I buried my face in my hands, and it was then that he took notice of my finger. I'd forgotten about it.

"Did you do something?" he inquired.

"I just…it was…no, no, I don't need anything." I managed.

"It looks broken."

"It is." I replied.

As this occurred police men and reporters were filing in, questioning the three boys and occasionally the chubby man. None of them approached me. Chubby took my broken finger as an excuse to leave. He led me to a nurse, who took me to a doctor. I pleaded for him not to take too much time, so he put my index finger in a splint and warned that it may be deformed later. I would've cared, but I couldn't be so self focused at the moment.

I returned to the waiting room. It was mainly empty except for other four people I hardly knew. I'd go home if I had a ride.

No one said anything to me. I tapped my foot impatiently. I didn't know what to do! I couldn't just leave, as much as I wanted to. Who here would give me a ride anyway? I wanted to see Dally.

"He hadn't gotten much sleep…" I heard the oldest brother saying. His name was Darry I think. The cute one was Sodapop –the twins went on and on about him-, he had been breathing lightly but responded sleepily.

Sleep. I want to sleep. I'm not tired, but I want to sleep till this is all over.

"Do you need to go outside?" Chubby asked me. He must've seen my anxiety. I knew I appeared crazy.

"I don't know." I cried out helplessly. My fingers clenched at my hair. "I want to go home, but....home? Oh God I want my daddy back." I blubbered. I felt stupid for crying like that, but keeping it cooped up inside wasn't helping any. I wasn't like Dally, and at that moment I wished I was. I wished I could hide my desperate feelings.

It was the first time I'd ever admitted, even to myself, that I wanted the dad I'd loved back. I wanted the life of the twelve year old me back. If my dad was here, he'd be so ready to scoop me up in his arms and comfort me.

"Come on," he said, ready to lead me out.

"No, I have to know if…"

"You need fresh air."

I finally complied, ignoring the three sets of eyes that looked at me as I passed. What did they think of me? Did they think I was overreacting because that boy who was dying wasn't my friend?

I had a smoke, calmed down, and returned back inside with the man, thanking him.

Darry reported the news to the both of us. I closed my eyes to prevent another oncoming flow of tears. Dally's arm would be scarred. That didn't matter. Johnny had a broken back. That wasn't good. I knew from my studying that he probably wasn't going to live.

"We're heading home, do you have a ride, Ana?"

How did he know my name? He must've asked Ponyboy.

"No," I responded meekly.

The car was quiet. Ponyboy had fallen asleep, and Sodapop was in and out. I rode in the front next to Darry. I made him drop me off at the end of my street, since I would need the time to compose myself. I thanked him before getting out and watched as the car disappeared into the distance. I stood, readying myself to explain to Monica.

I was surprised at my own strength as I told her everything calmly, and I was sure she was shocked too, but she didn't show it. She just handed me a glass of some alcoholic beverage –I think it was a wine she'd had imported- and said it always helped. I didn't refuse this time.

When I wake up early I always tend to be in a reflective mood, but today I didn't want to look back. The past meant pain. I had convinced myself I could only move forward. It was a Saturday, and I longed to wake up to the sunlight making my skin glow and my smile radiant. There would be strong arms around me. I would revel in that moment, because it felt everything was in its place.

Monica came with me to the hospital. Once I had gotten to the door of Dally's room, I told her to leave. I'd get a ride home if I needed one. The two just did not dig each other.

Dally looked bored. He didn't say anything to me when I sat down in a metal chair by the bed.

"I heard about the fit you threw."

I bit my lip. He was smiling weakly, cockily.

"You wouldn't let them give you an x-ray."

He reached over and picked up my right hand, twisting it around and peering at the finger he'd broken by accident.

"You didn't need to freak out like you did."

"Huh?"

"We're all fine here, we'll be fine." He seemed to be telling himself more than me.

"First time drinking alcohol last night..." I said, changing the subject.

"You like it?"

"Monica was right."

"Hm?"

"If something bad happened, I'd probably drink myself to death."

I croaked a laugh. It was hoarse and sounded out of place, but he gave a crooked smile in response anyway. He then motioned for me to come over. I took a seat on the bed, worrying over his arm, even though it was on the other side.

"Lay down Ana,"

"There's not enough room." I protested. He chuckled bitterly, knowing what I'd thought he meant.

"I just want to sleep a little."

I reddened and then squeezed myself comfortably into the small space next to him. I wasn't very sleepy, but it was so peaceful that sleep was inevitable.