A/N: Guys, I feel absolutely horrible. I'm so, so sorry I haven't updated in over a month. I haven't been able to update because my laptop has been broken. I've been having to use my phone to read and review stories. That being said, thank you all so much for the reviews you've all given me!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here except Barbara, Mrs. Almost, and Mr. Dick Morrison.

With Darry's strong, vice-like grip on my shoulder, I examined the building carefully. On my right, there were people wearing business suits and using suitcases. On my left, there was a violinist, softly playing music for the building. Oh, glory, I thought. Abashed, I stared down at my slightly-disheveled appearance. With the money I'd earned from my book so far we were able to buy a cheap suit for this occasion.

Though it was nicer than anything I'd ever owned or worn before in my life, it looked like nothing compared to these people's suits.

Darry talked to pretty receptionist. His shoulders, broad and tall, were straight. They weren't showing how tired he truly was from working. He leaned against the counter and talked to the brunette receptionist easily. Darry winked and the girl nearly fainted in his arms. I resisted the urge to throw up. But, I made a silent note to ask my oldest brother how he does it so easily.

It's a side of him that I didn't think about that much. Since my parent's accident, Darry became a parent. I never really thought of him with someone with a life. It was like he didn't even have one. I thought the same with my parents. They were Mr. and Mrs. Curtis - and that is it. Their lives revolved around us; they didn't have friends or people they liked to buddy around with.

And I know that's not true now that I look back on it, but I never thought of them as actual people.

Darry turned to give me an impudent sort of smile. I took a step back to give them their distance. I wasn't too sure what I was supposed to do.

I checked the invisible watch on my wrist and huffed out a breath. We didn't have time for this. We had a schedule going and it wasn't part of the schedule for Darry to sit and flirt the whole day.

Every once in a while I'd hear Darry say something, then I'd hear her snort and giggle out a distorted laugh.

Finally, after what seemed to be twenty minutes, Darry waltzed over to me. I had since sat down on an adjacent bench. Darry had a feigned look of embarrassment, his hands in his pockets. I was just glad he had an opportunity to act his age for once. He didn't get them very often.

"You ready to go, Dar?" I asked.

"So, I was talking to Barbara…" Darry started to say.

I cut him off with a wild laugh. "Barbara? You guys are already on a first name basis? I hope you got her number, Dar."

Darry bit his lip in that annoyed fashion which made me regret ever even saying anything. Jeez, if looks could kill… "You're getting as bad as Two-Bit, you know that?"

I held my hands up in a defensive manner, but I was biting back a laugh. "O-okay, go on. You were talking to … to Barbara, and…?"

"And I did get her number, for your information. Anyway … she said I can't go any further now. You're going to have to take an elevator down the left hallway…"

I started my mental checklist. Elevator down left hallway.

He continued to ramble off some instructions. I listened intently. In the back of my mind I wondered if Darry was gonna go back to talk to Barbara again after I left.

My brother put his hands on my shoulders and squinted his eyes, sizing me up. He looked like he was going to give me the kind of pep talk coach always did before a big run. I was sure Darry'd received lectures from his football coach when he was high school too.

"You be good, Ponyboy."

I saluted him cockily. "Aye, aye, Captain."

Darry chuckled, but he looked somewhat agitated. I didn't want to push his buttons anymore, even though it was pretty fun to do. The look he kept giving me reminded me to knock it off. Though I reckoned he was starting to like being teased by me just as much as he did when Soda did it.

An obscure-looking woman could be seen filing papers beside us. Hair up in a bun, she looked at us and sneered at us like we were scum. And just like that, my confidence was zapped out of me.

Darry looked like he had a few choice words he wanted to say to her. His fists were clenched at his side, but I calmed him down, whispering, "No, no! Darry, it's alright."

He looked sheepishly at me. Darry and his uncontrollable temper.

He rubbed his neck. "Uh, you better get goin' now."

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

As he was walking out he gave a wave. I gave him one back. "Good luck, kiddo. And remember, first elevator and down left hallway, floor three. Mrs. Almost will be there to meet with you."

I took deep breath after deep breath. What was I getting into?

Oh, God. Which floor was I supposed to go to? The familiar nervous feeling was starting to develop in my gut again. I chewed a hangnail.

I clicked floor three and hoped for the best. I really needed to start listening to Darry when he talked to me.

I luckily clicked the right button to get on the right floor. Thanking my lucky stars, I reared around a corner. Mrs. Almost and some other people I didn't know were conversing. The way they talked made them sound like they'd been friends for the past ten years. I counted about ten people, including Mrs. Almost. I picked up on their talking.

"…an amazing story for someone who's so yo—"

The salt-and-pepper-haired man abruptly cut off his speech as him and the rest of the group saw me.

"Um … hi," I said, biting my lip hard. I didn't want to appear too nervous, but I couldn't help it.

"Hello, Ponyboy!" Mrs. Almost exclaimed cheerfully, happily like the way she always was. She smiled, showing her dazzling white teeth. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

She introduced me to everyone. I found out they were all her colleagues; that wasn't hard to tell. The man I mentioned earlier was named Mr. Dick Morrison. He gripped my palm in a firm, crushing handshake. I tried to shake it back just as hard. He patted me on the back. He said, "I've heard many great things about you, and you've got some talent, son. My, what a story."

"Thank you, sir," I replied breathlessly. Inside my mind was reeling. I could feel a huge grin spread on my face. "Thank you."

The older guy smiled good-naturedly at me, which made me feel a whole lot better than how I did before. Mrs. Almost led us all in to a small, spherical room.

There was a table arranged in the center of the room, and it was neatly aligned with eleven chairs. I smiled in to my hand.

Mrs. Almost settled herself informally and patted the seat next to her to signal me to sit. I did as I was ordered.

Mr. Morrison sat on my right.

Mrs. Almost cleared her throat as another woman started to talk, "Hello, Ponyboy."

I forced myself to look up at her. I managed a tiny grin. "Hi."

Mr. Morrison said casually, "I'm sure you talked to Miss Nancy over here about why we're meeting here."

I nodded. "Yeah, yeah. To talk about the artwork on the front of it. The book."

"You're right," he said as he rubbed his grizzled chin.

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly as a silence fell over the room. I tried not to sound too eager when I said, "I, um … I got a drawing I have in mind for the cover." I started to pull a folded piece of paper out of my suit pocket.

"You do?" a woman - I couldn't remember her name; she was older, much older than Mrs. Almost - asked. "Did you draw it yourself?"

I didn't unfold it yet. Instead, I let Mr. Morrison go on and talk. "Jesus, you draw too? My, my, my," but he wasn't saying this in a sarcastic way. "Draws and writes? Do you sing, as well?"

I laughed. That was embarrassing. "Oh, no. I'm a horrible singer."

"Well," said Mrs. Almost with a smile, "let's see that picture, Ponyboy."

I unraveled a piece of paper I had ripped out from my sketch book. I'd worked long and hard on this, because I wanted it to be perfect.

And it was - in my mind. It looked exactly how I wanted to.

On the cover were boys: nameless, faceless greasers that reminded me of people I used to know. A nostalgic cover to anyone who looks at it. And in big letters on the top it read "The Outsiders".

It was tough and tuff, and yet it still had an ornamental quality about it.

Mrs. Almost stared intently at it, alternating from looking at it to me. Slowly her face spread in to a wide, toothy smile and she nodded frantically.

She passed it on to the rest of the people in the circle.

They all nodded their approval.

"Are you wanting it to look exactly like that?" a man who sat across from me asked.

I didn't exactly know what he meant by this. "Well, I would like to be close to that … if that's possible, I mean. But if you have to change it, that's fine."

"Wow," Mrs. Almost mused. "This meeting didn't take nearly as long as we'd expected it to."

Panic. "Was I not supposed to bring a drawing in? I'm sorry, I-I thought that you wanted me to—"

Mrs. Almost waved her hand to shush me. "Hush, child."

I raised my eyebrows slightly, but again, did as I was told.

"How old are you, Ponyboy?" Mr. Morrison suddenly asked.

I was slightly caught off-guard by the random question. "I'm going to be fifteen soon."

"How soon?"

"A couple of days. July 22nd," I said.

I ran a hand through my hair and wondered if it would be proper meeting etiquette to start smoking a cancer stick in front of everyone. But despite how much I wanted to, I didn't.

"Terrific," Mr. Morrison breathed very sagely. "Terrific."

"Do you see yourself writing more novels besides this one?" asked Mrs. Almost.

I pondered this thought for a second. I shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. I like to write. Maybe I'll write mystery novels or something. Who knows?"

A lady who hadn't said anything the entire time said, "Do you think your book will be big, Ponyboy?" Her voice was oddly saccharine.

How was I supposed to know? I shrugged again. "I like to think it will. It's fun to dream."

Mr. Morrison chuckled heartily and adjusted his tie. His grey and black beard and husky voice and appearance reminded me of a lumberjack's. He clenched my shoulder in his palm. "He's just being modest. It was one of the greatest pieces of work I've ever read. 'Course he'll write more. It'd be a sin not to. When I found out you were only fourteen when you wrote it…"

My jaw nearly fell to the floor. One of the greatest pieces of work? It almost frightened me to realize how much of an impact this could make on people. That I could make on people.

They all laughed at my reaction. Mr. Morrison said, "Don't look so shocked, kid."

I admired the people in this room, with their informal, casual, and friendly way. They all seemed nice and they were accepting. They didn't judge me for being poor and for being a kid greaser and for that I am grateful.

We talked for a while more about my interests and life, and then finally Mrs. Almost cleared her throat, signaling it was time to go.

She gathered my drawing and put it neatly in to a slot in her briefcase.

One by one they cleared out. Mrs. Almost stayed behind me. She told me she was going to walk me to my car. "Your brother's here, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "He's probably chatting with that receptionist girl. Barbara."

Mrs. Almost put her hand over her face to cover a laugh.

As we continued walking, she said, "It will probably only be a few more months until it's officially published." I suppressed a gasp. My heart beat sped up in happiness.

When we finally got downstairs, I was right. Darry was talking to that woman. Still.

"Darry," I said to get his attention. I smiled smugly at him and I swear I saw him start to blush. Huh. Darry blushing. Who'd have thought?

Darry turned and looked at me, internally scowling at me, I could tell. But he painfully smiled when he saw Mrs. Almost.

"Thanks, Mrs. Almost," I said to her. I was as sincere as I could possibly be. Because without her I wouldn't have even been there. "Thanks for everything."

One or two chapters left! Stay tuned and thanks for reading!