A/n: I don't own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own Bittersweet Symphony, written by Richard Ashcroft and performed by The Verve.

I can change, I can change,
But I'm here in my mould, I am here in my mould.
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next.

Evie smiled, letting him take her hand as he opened the door. Steve grinned at her, spinning her a little as they walked down the road. She hadn't had a date like this in months.

"Where will it be? The diner? Coffee house?"

Evie smiled again and looked up into Steve's eyes. For the first time in months they didn't seem to have any bags under them. No bags, no bloodshot eyes, no paranoid glances. For the first time in months, Steve Randle looked almost normal and happy.

Evie smiled, remembering their first "official" date. She'd only been fifteen and Steve sixteen. He'd been talking about how his father had let him fix up their old junker 'round back. That first date, Steve had driven Evie to the diner in that old car. Evie had secretly feared for her life as they sped down the road, Sodapop laughing and whooping in the back while Sandy tried desperately to slow him down.

Five years later Steve was still as reckless of a driver, but Evie never noticed it. Maybe she'd just gotten used to it.

As they made their way down the street, Evie leaned into Steve, listening to his complaints and just general talk. Something caught her ear, though, and Steve looked down at Evie, puzzled.

"I asked what you thought. I mean about me goin' back to school, you know? What do you think?"

She didn't know what exactly to think. "Well, Steve, that's … that's great! I mean, how are you going to afford it, though? Do you have any money?"

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, the Army don't pay too bad, and the old man left me some money 'fore he died. So, yeah, I guess I got enough money."

Evie thought for a moment, then grinned. Before she knew just what she was doing, she leapt up, wrapping her arms around Steve's neck, and kissed him. She felt him stumble backwards until he regained his balance and kissed her back. When they parted Steve gave a small laugh.

"That means you approve?"

"I think so." She grinned before hearing her stomach complain loudly. "Let's go get something to eat. I might starve soon."

Steve laughed and took her hand again, walking down the main road to the diner.

Turning the corner, Evie heard someone shout Steve's name. They turned to see a tall, dark man walk toward them.

Shit, she thought. "We're not talking to him, Steve."

Evie turned to Steve, who was rubbing his temples, looking nervous. Her stomach dropped. Had he been talking to him before? Too many feelings surged through her: anger, sadness, annoyance at assuming. She had no idea what to think.

Jim Thompson had crossed the street by now and was extending his hand to Steve.

"Hey, Randle. Long time no see. What's been keeping you?"

Steve shrugged and scratched his head nervously. "Just life, you know?" Jim smiled and nodded. Then his face turned a little more serious and his voice lowered. "I heard you kicked the habit. That true?"

Steve was quiet for a moment before answering slowly. "Yeah."

Jim nodded. "I … I ain't dealin' no more, either. You know, some bad shit happened and I guess I just quit."

Evie raised her eyebrow in question. Jim Thompson never just "quit." From the little she knew of him, he hadn't quit in fights, he never quit drinking, and he certainly never just quit where good money was coming in. "Just like that, you quit?"

Steve threw Evie a quick glance before looking back to Jim. "How'd you quit?"

Jim Thompson hadn't exactly just had only one foot in the water when he was dealing.

Jim looked down thoughtfully. "Well, I got one of them sketchy calls, you know? It was on the other side of town, all the way by the river. So, anyway, I went down to pick it up and we was doin' real good until…" Jim ran hand through his hair, a troubled look on his face. "Well, uh, you know how you always said I'd get in trouble with those pick-ups from the non-regulars?"

Steve nodded and Jim laughed nervously.

"Well, it was really goin' just fine an' then all the sudden these big brothers come bustin' on in with these rifles. One of 'em tells us to get on down. They lined us all up, an' I was sittin' there on the floor, thinkin' I was gonna die or something. Well, these guys started rummaging through all the draws an' all … They took everything, man. All the money, the smack; it's all gone. Then the first guy, we hear him cock his gun like he's gonna shoot … I don't know why the hell he didn't, but I know I ain't getting into that shit again."

Evie raised her eyebrow again, but this time in shock. "You're kidding, right?"

She felt Steve gently put his hand on her shoulder and she looked over. He looked as troubled as she felt.

"Naw, I ain't kiddin'. I think those guys would've killed me, too. Jesus, my mama always said God was looking out for me, but I think she was tellin' the truth. She wasn't shitting me."

"How long ago did this happen, Jimmy?"

"Just last week."

"Jesus Christ, man."

"Yeah, well, I ain't dealing this shit no more. I know a brother who can hook me up dealin' cars or something … just s'long as I don't get myself killed."

Steve nodded and extended his hand. "Hey, well, good for you, man. I've gotta get going, but, you know, it was good seeing you. Good luck to you. And tell me where you'll be working. I need a car."

Jim smiled and laughed. "Sure thing, man. Catch y'all later. Bye there, Missus," he said, nodding to Evie.

She blushed a little at being called "Missus," but nodded and smiled back.

They continued their walk to the diner, but suddenly their date seemed less exciting and like some weight had been placed on her. How much of a chance did guys like Jimmy Thompson have of getting out of dealing? But she did have one comfort. Steve really hadn't gone back.

She looked in the mirror and grinned. She didn't look half-bad. Her hair had been braided down her back and her shirt had a hippie-ish design, but much cleaner than the hippies kept theirs.

For all the fighting they did, one thing she gave her family was the effort. They at least tried. Only sometimes it didn't work out so well …

Evie stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair. She'd just gotten a haircut and she hoped Steve would like it. Finishing her hair, she looked in the mirror, satisfied with the way she looked.

She slipped her shoes on and rolled her eyes at the usual sound of her father's and brother's constant bickering.

"Shut the hell up, old man. You don't know shit!"

"I fucking know better than you, boy, and I know I had one more'n nineteen beers in there! Where's that other beer, boy?"

Typical … boozehounds arguing over booze. Just fucking typical.

"Daddy, Andrew, I'm going out."

"I didn't take no goddamned beer, George!"

"Okay, I love you. Bye!" Evie was about to step out the door when … George? She'd never heard that one.

Apparently George Kerrigan hadn't, either, because his face had reddened and his voice lowered dangerously."What'd you say, boy?"

"George, I didn't take your goddamned, fucking, shitty, cheap beer … George."

Evie winced as Andrew carelessly flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor and smirked. Damnit, she'd just mopped in there, too.

Mr. Kerrigan advanced on his son, his face dangerous. "What did you call me?" His teeth were clenched and his eyes seemed to bulge a little.

"I told you, George. I didn't take no beer of yours. George is your name, right? I know it ain't my old man's name."

Evie blinked and Mr. Kerrigan's face went blank.

"What?" she whispered, hardly audible, but somehow Andrew had heard.

He looked over at Evie, his reckless glare softened to an apologetic smile. After a long pause, he sighed. "You heard me, Evie. He ain't my old man. He's yours, but he certainly isn't mine. You an' Mom both know it. And if this prick's gonna sit here and pretend he's my old man, then fine with me, but I'm not playing along."

Evie closed her eyes, trying to block the thought out, but she knew it was true. Her big brother, the guy she'd looked up to … he wasn't her true brother. She felt a lump rise in her throat. What the hell was this? She was crying over her half brother? At least she fucking had a brother.

Before she could continue her train of thought, Mr. Kerrigan broke through.

"Get out, you little shit! Get the fuck out!"

Andrew nodded and turned toward the back door without a second look.

Evie's head began to spin as a beer bottle crashed on the closing door. She was that bottle.

She shook her head, snapping out of her daze. She was in front of her father's house by now, and she could see Andrew in the front window. Getting out of the car and walking to the door, she heard the two talking. Mr. Kerrigan wasn't calling him son and Andrew was still calling him George. That was just fine.