Thanks for the reviews! Also, please excuse the bit of swearing later on…

Heather was healing slowly but surely. It had been a week since the accident, and even though she was still pretty bad off, the doctors said she'd be able to leave in a few days.

Darry had gained custody of her, "But only temporarily", as the social worker said it. Mr. Reed had been arrested, and when we explained heather didn't have any other immediate family, we made a compromise: we would get money from the state for her to stay with us, but they would send letters all over the country to find any distant relations to take care of her.

I pray she didn't have any.

But since I really didn't have any control over it, I pretended it didn't matter. I'd force myself through school and afterwards, would walk straight to the hospital to visit her (and on her insistence, bring her homework) until after sunset. Darry wanted me to come home while there was still light, but I didn't care. What good is a sunset when you can't watch it with the girl you love?

It was strange, really… even though Heather was so sick she couldn't walk on her own, it was like nothing had happened. She was still my bright, beautiful angel. We talked about everything: school, family, places we've been… before I knew it, she was telling me about Jamie, and I was telling her about the country, even Soda's horse.

"Ponyboy?" she asked me.

"Hmm?"

"Do you wish you could go back to the country?"

I sighed, tracing patterns on the back of her hand. "More than anything. I want to get away from the city, from Socs and Greasers and everything. I want to… to…"

"See the stars?" she said quietly.

I looked up. "What?"

She shifted carefully, sitting up a little straighter. "When bad things happen, it's hard to see the good things in the world." -- I thought of Johnny's letter, asking me to show Dally a sunset, and grimaced -- "You're blinded by your hate until hate is all you see, even though that's not all there is. Like how the city lights drown out the stars. But in country… you can clear your head. See everything good in the world again. You can see the stars."

I stared at her. "You ever been to the country before?"

"Once," she closed her eyes and leaned back on her pillow. "A long time ago…"

I thought about that on my walk home. Johnny and I used to stay out in the lot watching the stars, no matter how cold it got. And even after Darry hollered at me or I'd had a bad day at school, everything seemed alright. Like looking at something so perfect made alt he blemishes of this life disappear.

But then I heard an engine revving behind me, and all the thoughts about stars and the country were blown from my mind as I turned to see a black Corvette parking a few feet away. Three Socs jumped out, looking pissed. And drunk. Oh, please, no, I prayed, starting to sweat despite the chill in the air, Not this again. I can't do this all over again.

"Hey, lookie here!" The one closest to me drawled, "We got ourselves a little greaser!"

The one to his right laughed quietly. "Yup. And he's the one that killed Bob, ain't he?"

The one on the left nodded. "Sure is."

"We don't appreciate greasers killin' our buddies. We oughtta teach you a lesson."

I tried to look tough, but my eyes were sweeping the street, looking for a busted pipe or a pop bottle I could use as a weapon. Nothing. (Gee, isn't this a familiar scene?)

"Hey," I said, looping my thumbs in my pockets, "I got the message when my friend died."

"Nup." They were getting closer and closer, the scent of whiskey and English Leather making my head spin, and soon I was pushed up against a wall. "You ain't learned nothin'. And don't you think your friend dying makes it even; it'll take every worthless, greasy life on the East Side to make up for Bob's death."

Now I've been angry before. It takes a lot to get me really mad, and even then I usually just say stuff I don't mean. But I've never been mad like this.

I never thought I'd ever meet someone so stuck up and self centered, so much better than anyone else, and after what he'd just said, I felt the flicker of fear inside me burst into a roaring, furious inferno.

I was so angry I couldn't see straight. I didn't even realize what I was doing until it was too late. Suddenly I was beating the hell out of al three, didn't even feel it when they flipped out their blades and cut my face and arms. My mouth formed the most foul curses that I didn't even think I knew. I felt the crush of bones beneath my fists, skin tearing beneath my nails, blood splattering on mean and didn't even slow down. I saw their blades flashing red in the moonlight, their eyes wide with fear. I could hear my swearing and theirs screaming, echoing in the near silent night.

After a long while of blind fury, I let two of them go, but held the third by the throat. "Listen, you little fucker," I said, my face inches away from his, "If any of you show your ugly faces here, I will personally break every bone in your body." I shook him, and he whimpered. "You got that, dickhead? I see you again, I'll beat you so bad no doctor could fix you. Now scram!" I threw him to the ground and, sobbing, he scrambled into the car and the three screeched away.

I stared after them, breathing hard and trying to calm down. Those damn Socs… sighing, I looked up as I continued walking home. It was too cloudy to see any stars.

-0-0-0-

When I got home I threw open the door and kicked my shoes off. I needed a shower.

Two-Bit was sprawled in front of the TV, watching Mickey Mouse, as usual. Soda and Steve were playing poker at the table, plates smeared with chocolate icing and cake crumbs sitting by their elbows. They looked up to greet me, but froze, stunned expressions on every face. Ignoring them, I started for the bathroom, but then Darry came out from the kitchen. "Ponyboy Curtis!" he hollered, "Where in God's name…" the anger in his voice died away until he wasn't speaking at all, just staring at me like I had three heads or something.

I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with them all staring at me. "Sorry I'm late," I said, taking a step closer to the bathroom, "I got held up. I'm gonna go take a shower."

I had my hand on the doorknob before Soda and Darry came to their senses. I heard a simultaneous "Ponyboy!", a chair falling over, and two sets of footsteps pounding after me. I sighed, turning to face their bewildered expressions. "Look, I just want to take a shower, alright?"

Darry grabbed my shoulders and searched my face, his eyes more frightened than I'd ever seen them. "What happened? What hurts? Where --"

"Darry, I'm fine!" I pulled away from him. Did I really look that bad? I knew them Socs had pulled blades on me, but golly, I couldn't feel a thing.

"Boy, you are far from 'fine'." Soda stated, cupping my chin in his hands. His face was white. "You know you shouldn't walk alone at night…"

"I dunno what you're so worked up about," I grumbled.

"This is!" Soda pulled his hands away, showing me his now gleaming red palms. I stared at them, stunned. "I…"

Darry pushed past Soda and dragged me into the bathroom. He bent my head over the sink before I could see my reflection in the mirror and starting splashing cold water on my face. I watched, astonished, as almost never-ending red flowed down the sink.

A few seconds later the water shut off and Soda shoved a towel in my face. When I was dry Darry started slapping Band Aids on my face, while Soda wiped off my bloody arms with a wet hankie.

"Glory, glory, Pone." Darry muttered, "The trouble you get into."

I bit back a retort, deciding I probably shouldn't get him angry. After all, I'd already scared them both out of their wits.

"Don't you hurt anywhere?" Soda asked.

I shook my head. "Didn't even notice the blood."

My brothers glanced worriedly at me, then at each other. "What happened?"

"Socs, that's what. They said some things…" my fists clenched, the memory of the anger flaring up fast. In spite of myself, I smiled. "I beat the tar outta 'em. I've never seen a Soc so scared, let alone three."

Darry nodded thoughtfully, but didn't say anything. He finished taping me up and sighed. "You'll have some nasty scars, but you'll live. You hungry?"

"Starved."

W headed back into the living room, abruptly stopping Steve and Two-Bit's whispered conversation on the couch. Soda shot them a look they both understood as I'll tell you later.

We mostly talked about heather over our spaghetti. The whole gang had only come to see her once, and sometimes Two-Bit would show, but we all missed her. I thought about telling them about what she'd said about seeing stars and was about to ask Darry if we could go back to the country again soon when I stopped myself. We didn't have that kind of time or money, he'd tell me. I shouldn't think stupid things like that.

Oh well. I can still dream.