So, I was gonna throw this away- I though it was junk however i got a few reviews and just... got very happy and a new wave of self-confidence so i had to continue.

Self importance- Thank you so much! I didn't get an e-mail telling me you reviewed and I just went to my reviews page now to see if it should be scrapped and I read your message. Thank you so much for that! Your words meant a lot!
Mamakitty01- Martha is nothing like Lola.. that hurts... LOL hope you like this chapter!
DBG- Here. Enjoy. Its freakin' long!
xxmuchlovinxx- Yes! Thank you and I am trying very hard! :D
Oh, also whatcoloristhesky, though she did not review she told me they were good the other day and, well, I was happy.

Chapter 3

The worst feeling Dallas had ever felt was undoubtedly sitting on that cold, icy concrete stoop, looking down at his boots, they were red rubber and looked stupid with his old jeans and the worn denim jacket Al had given him. It fit ok, and was even better than his nice coat because it had wool on the inside and was real soft and warm, also he wore that sweatshirt under it and the snow didn't bother him. Maybe it wasn't his boots that made him so uncomfortable, although they did stick out, he was the smallest of them all, he had big eyes and his hair was getting longer than ever, and to top it all off anyone would look right at him because he was wearing red snow boots. He chose them because he really liked red, but he wasn't so sure he liked it anymore.

No, he sighed, watching his breath billow into smoke and rise into the air, this feeling had nothing to do with his boots- it was the quiet. The waiting. This crushing silence as he sat, surronded by big kids, eyes set sharp with weapons. Switchblades, bats, chains, Al had a pistol- that had scared him when he pulled it out of a box and showed it to Dally- he wasn't scared of violence, or guns, he'd gone hunting before and could shoot himself- but it was that Al was aiming to kill someone with that gun. Dally sharnk into his denim jacket, he gripped the handle of the ball bat he was to weild in the fight, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up,

"Cool it tough guy," Joey whispered, his bright brown eyes dancing under those black, greasey bangs, "This is just gonna be one big tickle, kiddo, promise."

Dally nodded. Joey hadn't been wrong yet- he always told Dally stuff, like school stuff, math and history were his best subjects. Dally always put down his answers on his papers and he was always right. Joey was nearly eighteen and had a really pretty girlfriend and they were even gonna get married soon. He was real proud of her- proud of having her, or keeping her Dally wasn't sure which but it was alluded to that he and her hadn't always had the fairytale relationship. But, Dally didn't understand relationships. Unless the girl was Martha, the girl was icky. He didn't have to think any more about it.

"Cut the gas!" Al hissed at them and Dally began to tremble, Al looked so on edge- that can't be good- he was only on edge when Martha was around and she was in the apartment a few blocks away, "It's Georgie."

Georgie was an average guy, he had brown short hair, and brown eyes, and he wasn't real thin like Skinny Jim or real big like Alexander he was just normal. Dally heard the older guys talking about how Georgie was the one who started this whole fight- he did have a big mouth sometimes- and earlier Al sent Georgie to go and talk to the guys they were fighting with. It was cool, a truce, until the other gang came onto the lot, a big gravel lot where it would be, and then anything was allowed.

Georgie was staggering, leaning heavily against the wall. A boy named Anthony, who was Georgie's best friend, jumped up, "He's hurt!" he exclaimed and jumped over Dally's head and ran to Georgie who fell and crumpled into Anthony's extended arms and they both collapssed on the slick, concrete alley, "Al!!" he called "Al, he's knifed!!"

Al cursed and rushed over. Dally stood but Joey pushed him back to sit.

They held their breath until Al and Anthony helped Georgie get to his feet and walk forward with Georgie's arms over their shoulders. As they entered the single splotch of light from a dusty street lamp that stood just next to the stoop, Dally saw how beaten Georgie was and he stopped trembling. Georgie was beat down good and he was shaking at all- so Dally wasn't going to tremble if he was the onlyone.

"Gimme the whiskey," Al said, looking to the long-haired blonde boy, Henry, who huffed but gave him a flask from his hip and Al yanked up Georgie's shirt, over his head and poured the alcohol right over the bloody wound on his shoulder. Joey let out a sigh of relief, it wasn't deep or fatal, so Georgie was fine. Anthony was launched into a lectue about being stupid and getting knifed- turning his back- trusting- idiot- it went on and on until Georgie's shirt was yanked back down and the empty flask was handed back to Henry.

"Ya' gonna fight?" Skinny Jim asked, he'd been quiet against the forsted brick wall of the ruined building in front of the lot. Dally had never seen Skinny Jim so quiet, and frankly he didn't like it one bit. Skinny Jim wasn't supposed to be quiet and it only added to the crushing silence closing around Dallas' lungs.

Georgie nodded, "Damn straight."

Al looked up, "They're coming. Get ready," and then he looked right at Dallas, "We can run ya' back t'the apartment with Martha if you're too spooked, kid. I may have been wrong t'bring ya' here."

Dally stared at him. Al was looking at him with those real hard eyes, narrowed but some how soft as they stared at the little blonde before him. He was saying Dallas was too young to be in a real fight like this. He was saying they'd risk losing, or dying, to take him home to be safe. He was saying he'd let him chicken out. He was calling him a little baby. He was saying his place was at home with a girl and not with the men. He was saying Dally couldn't take it. He was saying Dally wasn't tough.

He may have been ten but he had a reputation to build, turning his eyes into a glare he spat, "Fuck off! I'm stayin' an' fightin'!"

And some how, that made Al smile. That made the crushing silence lighten up, not lift and flee but it wasn't so.. paralyzing. Saying he would stay and be tough made the others look at him- telling Al to 'fuck off' boosted his confidence because he wasn't slugged in the jaw for it as anyone else would have been. Yeah...

Yeah. He could do this. After all, he was ten years old. He wasn't a baby.

Then there were footsteps. They all stopped and the silence returned tenfold, and Dally held his breath watching the lanky black silhouettes stalk down that alley and across the lot. He heard the gravel and snow crunching under their feet- he heard his own rubber boots squeak as his akle twisted a bit nervously over the ice. He watched the black shadowa take on a more solid appearance as they neared and he watched dirty faces, glaring eyes, appear in the dim light of the streetlamp. Dally bit his lip a second, then licked his lips and wished he hadn't because he felt them crack. He hated having chapped lips. Then they all stood so he got up too and pretended his knees weren't jello.

"Rules?" asked the leader of the opposing gang, he had red-brown hair, dirt on his nose, freckles and beady blue eyes. He glard at Al and didn't have a weapon- or at least one in the open- just like Al had his pistol hidden while every other boy in the gang held a weapon of some sort.

"None." Al answered,

Then, one by one the boys stepped to the left or the right of their leader, both gangs lined up in a neat straight line. God- Dally exhaled looking up at the boy across from him. A skinny kid with an eyepatch. He wished he could grab Skinny Jim's hand, the boy stood next to him and looked very intimidating, but he knew better. He was ten years old. He could handle this fight. Then he saw the glint of steel wrapped around the other guys hand and he held his breath. A chain or a knife he didn't like either option.

They were waiting for something. Dally didn't know what so he stood in more of that horrible silence not knowing what the hell was going on. Then suddenly he saw a glint from the corner of his eye- everyone looked down the line- a guy from the other gang was holding a tea kettle by the handle and smashed it down on Henry's head!

Then it started.

"Nice boots- wanna see mine?" the tall guy before him hissed and cranked his leg back and jammed his boot into Dally's gut! The air he'd been holding in came rushing out- as well as any other air in his body- and he layed there panting but unable to draw breath.

Feet stamped past him as dots danced before his eyes. Some guys seemed to be dancing becuase two of them were boxing- other were running, chasing- he didn't know who's boots were who's until those big black ones came and colided with his lungs again and he felt himself lift off the ground and land on the gravel. The kid was stomping over. He scrambled up, swaying and staring at the triple image of the boy and just began to swing the bat, which he miraculously hadn't dropped. Something happend then- there was a crack and the tall kid crumpled down. Dally stared at him- he was clutching his knee and gritting his teeth to get back up.

"HIT HIM!!" someone yelled- it sounded like Alexander- and he raised the bat and didn't think twice before smashing it over the kid's head. He didn't count how many times he hit him- he just hit. And hit. And hit for what seemed to be forever.

Then he stopped and the guy was laying there, bloody but breathing- Dally ran from him with his bat still in his fist- looking for someone to help.

He ran threw crowd- on pure instince with andredaline pumping through his veins- just swinging that bat like he'd hit a home run and because of his side he was lucky to be unnoticed as he ran. He just hoped he wasn't hitting his friends. He burst through the other side of the crowd and fell down. Hot tears in his eyes as he turned to see his friends bralwing it out. Blood was splattered on the snow- there were fallen bodies- and he heard the crushing sound as wood broke bone, or chain struck across an already bruised face. He spotted Georgie and Anthony who stood back-to-back.

He saw Al and the other leader on the ground duking it out with their bare fists. Al was on top of the other guy his knuckles colliding with the other boys face. Over and over and over. Dally saw Alexander holding a boy by the shoulders and smashing his forehead against his. He saw so many others fighting- fighting. Then saw Skinny Jim dancing, hips swinging from side to side, jumping one way, sucking in his gut as the other guy tried to stab him with a kitchen knife he was weilding like a switchblade. That wasn't fair- Jim was unarmed. He ran over to them and didn't think twice before swinging a home-run, the other boys hips were the fast ball and the smashed! A scream came from that boy and when he fell Dally hit him.

Skinny Jim stopped him, "We ain't gonna kill." he said before turning and running to another fight. Dally was about to follow when something smashed against the back of his head hard and loud!

The world went black.

--

He awoke- his head throbbing worse than a hangover and felt two strong arms shaking him: "Wake up, kid! Dally! Dallas!" the person exclaimed. He felt like the world was spinning yet he was sitting still. His vision was in threes but he clearly recognized Skinny Jim. He sounded so frantic- so scared- Dallas didn't know Skinny Jim could sound scared. He nodded though to make him stop.

"W- was that a nod?" Skinny Jim asked

"Stop shakin' him and see!" Alexander demanded

So, the shaking stop and Dally managed to lift his head and looked up at him. Skinny Jim smiled and he was lifted up- high up. In fact Skinny Jim picked him up in his arms and held him on his side. He tried to wriggle away but Skinny Jim would not let go. In truth he was glad for it as the world came back into focus and he felt the feeling return to his knees.

"He's okay!" Jim called, then murmured "He's okay.."

Dally was looking at everyone- people were crowded around him and, boy! They looked so bad. Henry's blonde hair was tinted in his own blood- Georgie and Anthony's faces were unrecognizable. Skinny Jim and Alexander were bruised and beaten- and Al was wiping off his pistol.. which was still smoking. Dally sucked in air sharply. He saw everyone- not just the ones he knew personally but all the other guys in the gang who had fought with them. He was still learning their names. But there was one face he did not see.

"Joey.." his voice was raspy and harsh even to his own ears, "Joey... where's... Joey?"

Al looked down, "Joey.. he.. he got shot kid?"

The words sounded so normal- like, oh! Joey got shot everyday! He blinked not rigstering the deapth. "By you?" he asked looking at his pistol,

"No," Al shook his head, "Not by me, kid. Another kid. I shot that kid."

Dally nodded, "So..." he held his head like it would pop, "So where's Joey?"

"...Joey died." Al said sadly,

"Died...?" he asked and he knew what that meant he knew it meant gone- not alive- but for some reason he couldn't grasp it. Joey couldn't be dead. Joey had a girlfriend and a future- Joey had a smile, and dancing bright eyes. Joey had a plan and Joey was his friend. Saying Joey was dead was like saying Tim was dead. It was such an absurd thing to say becuase Dallas knew that could never happen.

But the crushing silence was back, and accompanying it was this burning sorrow.

"Liar," he looked right at Al,

Al frowned, "Don't I wish."

Dally shoved away and Skinny Jim let him down. The world spun and he grabbed the nearest thing- Alexander. He wanted to cry. Someone actually died- worse: it was his friend. A good friend. From where he leaned against Alexander he saw two bodies crumpled on the ground- their feet almost touching. One was Joey- eyes wide, like a deer in headlights, and there was no light in them- there was nothing just an emptiness.

A horibble emptiness that was spreading through him like the blood through the snow. His stomach gave a lurch and he vomitted into the snow.

He suddenly hated the color red.

I'm iffy about the fight scene- it wasn't fast enough I think. Tell me what you think.