A/N: No one guessed, which is fine, but I have a dedication anyways.
Disclaimer: Don't own The Outsiders
Dedication: To Heidi, because she gave me the idea :P

Johnny hadn't turned out to be much of a football player, not that it really bothered Soda or Steve, who had been planning on playing one on one anyways. Johnny and Ponyboy had ended up sitting on the side, watching the other two boys tackle each other and throw the ball around. Johnny didn't mind much, so he calmly sat on the edge of the lot with Ponyboy and tried to pick up ideas for the next time he got asked to play with them, if there was a next time. Johnny had been thinking about how much different his life would be if he had friend so hard that he didn't notice Steve and Soda come over to them.

"Hey Johnny," said Soda sitting down.

"Hi," Johnny said quietly, suddenly getting the feeling that he was out of place. These people had been friends for a while, Johnny was sure, and here he was; an outsider.

"D'you wanna come over to our house for a while? If it's ok with your parents... It'd probably be okay with ours…"

"I dunno…" Johnny said, unsure of what his parents would say, but he had forgotten about how mad his father had been since he was so excited about being invited over to someone's hours.

"Yeah, you should come and then we can use the fort!" Soda said. He didn't explain what the fort was, and Johnny wasn't about to ask. Soda's energy made Johnny want to hide yet speak at the same time. Ponyboy wasn't saying anything, and neither was Steve.

Johnny thought for a minute, but then remembered how mad his parents had been and doubted they would let him go. "Maybe another day," Johnny told them. "I think I'm busy." He looked at Soda's confused and sad face, and got up and started walking home. He'd been stupid to say 'another day', these people didn't want to be his friends, they just wanted him to get Ponyboy out of t he way.

"Come over sometime!" Soda shouted at his retreating back, but Johnny didn't notice. He'd just remembered something…

"Johnny?" Mrs. Cade called from the living room. Johnny's father wasn't home yet, but three year old Johnny was sitting on the kitchen floor, doodling on the walls with a crayon.

"Mom?" Johnny answered back, walking into the living room where he jumped up onto the couch with his mother.

"What were you doing in the kitchen?" she asked.

"Nothin'," Johnny answered, wondering if she somehow knew what he'd been doing.

"You were drawing on the walls again weren't you?" When Johnny was silent, she continued. "Your father isn't going to like that you know… He's told you not to do it before."

Johnny thought back, trying to remember being told not to do it, but he couldn't, so he tried to give his mother an innocent look.

"I know what you were just doing… But your father's not going to like what you did. Don't worry about what he say's, okay? He loves you, he just worries about you sometimes…"

Later that night, when Johnny had been laying in bed after being cursed out for half an hour, he couldn't help but think that maybe his mother was wrong.

Johnny remembered how bad he had felt after his father had yelled at him and started walking a little faster so that he would get home without having his father worry about him.

"I'm back!" Johnny said when he opened the door to his house, having finally arrived.

Silence.

"Mom?" he called out.

Silence.

"Dad?"

Click. The television turned on, so Johnny walked into the living room to see what was happening. His father was sitting on the chesterfield, remote in one hand, beer in the other. His mother was no where to be found.

"Hi dad!" Johnny said, jumping up onto the couch, only to be pushed down by his father.

"Where'd you go, son?" his father asked, slurring his words slightly.

"I met some kids! We went and played football, they're re-"

Suddenly, Johnny's father was on his feet.

"Some kids? Some kids? Kids around here, don't be hanging out with them! Damnit Johnny, hang around kids like the kids around here and you'll be getting yourself killed! People around here ain't no good!" he yelled and started pacing the room. "Why the hell do you think you've got no friends? You think your better than them? Do you?"

Johnny couldn't make any sense of what his father was saying. He wasn't going to get killed by playing football with the three kids he met today…

"I asked you a question, boy!"

"I-" Johnny started, but before he could finish what he was saying his father had pushed him to the ground.

"I ain't raising a hood of a kid! I spend six years with you in this house, now you go and throw it all away! Why? To play some football?" He grabbed Johnny's shirt collar and pulled him to his feet. "You know what, boy? If you want to play football with them so bad, why don't you go find them?" he shouted. "Go find them already!" He gave Johnny a hard shove towards the door.

"I don-" Johnny starts again, but his father wasn't listening.

"And don't you bother coming back until your mothers home, you hear me? You ain't welcome here anymore!"

Johnny stood in the hallway, his father towering over his six year old frame.

"Go!" As if it was an incentive to leave, his father took his hand and smacked Johnny across the face. So Johnny did as he was told; he went, sure that the words his mother had told him three years ago weren't true at all.