AN: WHOO-HOO! This chapter should be good…

Ponyboy's POV

(13th month in NY)

I sped down the street in my cycle. I love riding my cycle. I feel free, like I can do anything. It's the best feeling in the world. Not one day goes by, without a ride in my bike.

I parked my motorcycle, and walked in the bar.

"Hey, Charlie." I greeted the owner of this fine establishment.

Charlie was a good guy. He was young, in his twenty's. He lets gangs in his bar, because he used to be part of one. He doesn't believe under aged drinking is bad. He lets all ages in his bar, but only if we keep our traps shut around the fuzz. He knows me pretty well by now, and I know him the same.

"Hiya, Runaway." he greeted back, with a smile. "The usual?"

I nodded. "Yup. The usual." The usual is whiskey, with a little Pepsi mixed in.

He fixes it up and hands it to me. I murmur my thanks and he goes back to what ever he was doing. Then I notice Chris walking up to me.

"Hi, Pony." so he did remember my real name.

"Hi." I responded after I finished the last of my drink. "Want to go smoke?"

He nodded. "Sure."

We do that almost everyday. Its kind of a habit now. I don't know how it started or when it did, but it was something that we started to do on a regular basis. We walked outside and over to the parking lot, then we pulled out our cancer sticks.

We didn't talk. We just leaned against the fence in silence. But it was a comfortable silence. I liked it. We smoked for maybe half a minute before I saw someone walking up to us. It was Rickey. But oddly enough, he was alone.

"Hey, Ponyboy." he spit my name out. "Fancy meetin you here." Rickey looked weird. He was a little pale and his eyes were bloodshot.

Then it hit me. There was a rumor going around saying Rickey was an alcohol abuser. I didn't really believe it. Until now.

This is bad. "Hi, Rickey." I spit his name out, like he did mine.

I noticed he was reaching into his back pocket. He's pulling out his blade! I thought and pulled out mine before he did his. But he didn't pull out a switchblade. He pulled out a heater.

Chris and I gaped at him, our eyes never leaving the gun. Rickey grinned evilly and pointed it in my direction. I instinctively backed up a step.

"Lets finish this, Runaway. I don't like ya, and ya don't like me. So I think it would be easier if ya left for a long time." Rickey hissed.

"Don't do this, Rickey. Its just the booze talkin. Ya don't really want to do this." I say in a shaky voice.

"Oh, really? Well we'll see bout that." his finger tightens around the trigger, but before he can press it all the way, Chris tackles him.

Good old Chris. Saving my sorry ass, from this lowlife. Chris pulls Rickey up, and swats the heater out of his hands. I rush over to help, but Chris doesn't seem to need it. Suddenly, Rickey punched Chris in his face, and he's knocked backwards a few feet. He falls to the ground.

While Chris is down, I rush over to Rickey, but I notice he's gone. Damn it! Where did he go?

"Lookin for me?" Rickey is behind me.

He presses something hard against my head. Holy crap! He got the heater!

I don't know what happened next. My reflexes or something kicked in and I elbowed him in his stomach, causing him to crumble to the ground from loss of breath. He pointed the heater at me again, but before he could shoot, I stabbed him in the gut with my switchblade.

His eyes got wide and he dropped the gun. He stared at me as his head hit the ground. The stab wound was bleeding heavily, and I stared in shock at what I just did. A pool of blood formed around the unconscious body of Rickey. The crimson liquid spreading on the concrete.

All I could think is, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!

A hand came down on my shoulder, causing me to jump.

"Ponyboy, listen to me. Calm down and listen." Chris instructed. "You need to get out of here. The fuzz will be here any minute. They wont care about any reasons, they'll just take ya in. You need a place to lay low, a place the fuzz wont know about. They don't know yer real name, right?"

I nodded.

"Good." Chris continued, "Go back to Tulsa. You can lay low with yer family. Just don't say anything. The gang and I will try our best to send the cops on a goose chase. You know my number, right?"

I nodded, again. I was having trouble trying to talk.

"Okay, call me when you get there. I'll tell ya what's goin on over here. Just lay low, and don't say a damn word about this mess. When this clears up, ya can come back, got it?"

"Y-Yeah." I managed to stammer.

He gave me a quick hug, which I returned. "Nice knowin ya buddy. Hope to see ya soon. Now hurry!" he waved me away as the sound of sirens was heard in the distance.

I ran towards my motorcycle.

As I sped down the street as fast as ever, only one thought passed through my mind,

I'm heading home. Heading back to Tulsa…

AN: OMG! This chapter is exciting! Sorry it was kinda short and moving fast, but that's how I imagined it happening. Plus its 3 o'clock in the morning. So… Review!