Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Stevie Nicks owns "Stand Back."

Said no to him again and again

First he took my heart then he ran

Ethan couldn't take me to the Winter formal.

Apparently, he was going to take an extra shift that Friday night to make more money. He didn't tell me why, but he said it was for something important, something special. I didn't question him after that, but I did feel bad. This time, I actually wanted to attend the dance. It did feel a little weird to admit such a thing, even to Lisa, but it was true—I had wanted to go, and more than that, I wanted to go with Ethan, I wanted us to have a special night together. It sucked that he had chosen work, but I guess there was a part of me that understood.

The week dragged, like really dragged. None of my teachers were really dishing out too much work, and I assumed that nobody cared because Winter break was literally the following week. I had always favored this time of year, even though there was something bitter-sweet about it. Still, I hadn't seen all that much of Ethan with the two of us working, him never having time to do anything with me outside of school, and . . . well, I guess we were both just busy. Mom had noticed a change in my behavior, and when I explained the situation to her, she had asked me what I really thought of it.

Truthfully, I didn't know.

I mean, I loved that Ethan was allegedly saving money for something special, and the hopeful part of me wanted to believe that it was something for us, or maybe a Christmas gift he was going to possibly surprise me with. It gave me some peace of mind to assume such a thing, because it gave me a funny sense of security that Ethan was still thinking of me while he was working—even making the effort to do something special for us in place of missing the dance.

By the time Friday came around, I was sulking.

Ethan and I had seen each other a few times between class periods, but they were brief visits, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be in a sour mood, or like he didn't have time to stand around and speak with me. The unfortunate cherry on top of that cake was when Marvin Randle walked by with a friend of his and undoubtedly overheard Ethan's firm voice telling me that he had to get to class and he would call me later that night after his shift, meaning that he wasn't going to wait for me after last period, like he normally did.

I just wasn't having a good week . . . at all.

To make matters worse, Dad had gone to another doctor's appointment, and when I questioned him about it, he had told me to "mind my own damn business". Of course, I had never been one to follow directions, so I went ahead and asked Mom. Surprisingly, she told me that Dad would tell me what was going on in his own time, which didn't sit right with me.

In fact, it made me worry more.

Worrying wasn't a foreign feeling to me at this particular point, and instead of simply letting the matter go, I held onto it more, coming up with all sorts of weird scenarios in my mind about what the hell was going on. Now, call me dramatic, but I partially blamed all of this on the stress I was feeling from the way Ethan had been treating me lately. It made me feel as though I had done something wrong, or like he felt that he couldn't talk to me about his own problems.

Then again, I hadn't revealed any of mine to him, so I guess I was in the wrong, too.

Either way, I had made the decision to ask Mr. Curtis after class if he knew about anything concerning my dad. I knew that wasn't exactly the right thing to do, and if he didn't know anything, he was going to (probably) ask Mom. He and Mom had always been close, and I knew that Mom had confided a lot in him, just like he had with her. They were good friends, and I assumed that meant I could trust him, too . . . especially where it regarded my family.

So that was the plan.

The entirety of English class saw me focusing more on the clock rather than anything else. Mr. Curtis was basically letting us have a free class period, since it was the last day of school before Winter break, and believe me, I couldn't wait for it to begin. The only thing weighing me down was the fact that the dance was that night, and I didn't know what to do. Should I go alone? I didn't want to intrude on my friends, like Lisa and Brian . . .

"Hey."

I glanced up, sighing when Marvin's face came into view. "What's up?"

He took the seat in front of me, turning so that we were facing one another. Now, to be honest, I was a little grateful for some distraction, even if it came in the form of Marvin Randle. Speaking of him, I was surprised he hadn't mentioned the night we had met up at the bowling alley at all, not once. It was as if it never happened, strangely enough, for I assumed that he would have started rubbing it in that he had gotten to take a ride in my truck, although I had been driving. Still, it seemed like a big deal to him, so when he hadn't bothered to bring it up, I began to wonder.

Ethan hadn't been too thrilled to learn about the events that night, and I couldn't exactly blame him. I wasn't sure if it was a mistake or not, but it bothered me when Ethan got crabby about it.

"You okay?" Marvin asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned.

I nodded dismissively. "Yeah. Why?"

A shrug. "I don't know. You haven't seemed like yourself all week."

"You would know?"

He eyed me for a moment, though it was casual, then he spoke. "Well, I see you every day, Harley, and even though we haven't always gotten along, we practically grew up together." He licked his lips. "I know it's none of my business, and I'm not trying to make it mine, but . . . is everything okay between you and Ethan?" He sounded a little embarrassed to ask. "I saw y'all the other day, and—"

I cut him off, my voice icy. "You're right, it is none of your business."

"Okay."

There was a moment of silence that followed suit, and for a minute, I thought that Marvin would take the hint and walk away—only he didn't. Instead, he stayed planted in the seat, a thoughtful expression blanketing his face, and I wondered what he could possibly be thinking about, or why he would even want to be sitting with me when his two cronies shared the same class with us. I pondered various things I could do to make him leave, simply so I could be alone, but in that particular moment, I just wasn't in the mood—and I was too lazy.

It was a few minutes later when Marvin spoke again. "Are you going to the dance tonight?"

"What business of it is yours?"

His brows furrowed at the bite in my voice, and I realized I must have given something away, though I hadn't meant to. Unfortunately, that was one of my negative traits—whenever I was angry or upset about something, I acted on impulse.

"I was just asking," he replied, and I had to admit that he did look taken aback. "Gees, Harley, you don't gotta bite my head off."

I sighed. "We're not friends, Marvin. You can't just ask me casual questions like we are." I sat up so that we were more level with each other. "Besides, whatever I'm doing is no concern of yours."

"Sorry," he responded, though his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize making small-talk was a crime." His shoulders dropped as he rested his arms on his thighs. "I never said we were friends, either, but I'm trying to at least be civil."

"Why?"

A shrug. "I don't know." There was that distant look again. "I guess I do care . . . a little. I told you I never hated you."

I could have laughed, then. "You care?"

He smiled, chuckling lightly. "A little. I said a little."

Maybe he was trying to make me feel better, or maybe he did care—a little—but some part of it was comforting to me. I really didn't want to be alone, and even though I was among my peers, I sure felt like I was by myself. Some part of Marvin's presence was welcomed, but I wouldn't ever tell him that, nor would I tell him what my problems were; I didn't trust him, and I didn't want to give him personal information of mine that he could possibly use against me.

I changed the focus onto him. "Are you going to the dance?"

"Sure," he answered calmly. "I've got nothing better to do anyway."

"So you don't care about being alone?" I pressed, curiosity getting the better of me.

His face contorted into confusion. "Why would I ever care about that? It's supposed to be for fun, not just having a date."

"I guess."

"I'm gathering that Ethan isn't going . . ."

Well, fuck.

There was nothing to do but nod, because that was the truth, but I didn't want Marvin to think that Ethan was ditching me or anything, or like he had to take me and I expected him to. I mean, yeah, I was upset, but Marvin didn't need to know that.

"He has to work," I stated. "It's not a big deal."

Marvin merely nodded, not bothering to comment on that, but he did respond. "Well, you should still come, Harley. Have a good time, you know . . ."

The bell rang, then, signaling the end of the class period, as well as the end of the school day. So long, classes, until 1995. I was beyond excited for Winter break, but before I could bother to start enjoying it, I had to talk to Mr. Curtis . . . see if he knew anything about my dad. It did feel weird to even think about asking him, but I figured it was worth a shot.

I waited until everyone was gone and for Mr. Curtis to return inside of the room. He gave me a curious look, probably wondering why I hadn't left, and then asked the most obvious question. To say I felt a bit awkward would be an understatement.

"Have you spoken to my mom recently?" I started with, hoping that it wouldn't make him start asking questions of his own. Then again, Mr. Curtis was most likely going to speak to Mom about this conversation anyway, especially since it was going to concern my dad—one of his childhood buddies.

He made a face, brows knitting together. "The other day when I stopped at the bakery. Why?"

I shrugged, trying to play cool. "Well, I was just wondering if she mentioned anything about my dad to you . . ." When he turned back to face me, placing the eraser on the holder, I continued. "I've been trying to find out if he's sick or something. He went to see a doctor the other week, and then had a follow-up with him."

Mr. Curtis looked curious. "Well, Ella—" Pause. "I mean, your mother hasn't said anything to me about that, Harley. Have you asked her yourself?" He laughed. "This is a bit informal for school, even after class hours."

I couldn't help but smile. "I did ask her, and I asked my dad, but he told me to mind my own business, and Mom said he would tell me when he was ready to." I hooked my thumbs through my pant loops. "I was just curious if you knew anything or not."

"I'm sorry," he replied, sounding earnest. "But I don't."

I could only nod. "It's okay. Thanks anyway, Mr. Curtis . . . and enjoy your break."

"You, too, Harley."

I drove to the ranch right after school that afternoon. Mom didn't need me at the bakery anyway, so I decided to do the one thing that I truly enjoyed doing—hanging with my dad. He was in the pen on his horse, Scout, attempting to train a pony. I wondered if he would keep this one or not; I was used to seeing new ponies at the ranch, but they never stayed long. Dad was in the trading business, either trading trained horses, or outright selling breeding ones. I had spent a great deal of my childhood learning the ropes of it, picking up on things that Dad taught me, or things that I witnessed. It wasn't exactly an easy business, but it was fun.

I watched Dad trotting around on Scout, getting the pony to follow his commands. I wished to be like that one day, wished to be on my own with nobody telling me what to do or how to do it. I longed for the freedom that felt so close but out of reach, dreading the fact that I had one more year of high school left while Mom expected me to go to college. I wasn't sure that I wanted to attend college, though. I wanted to start work full-time at the ranch, establish myself officially in the business while I was still young and had the time to build my name up.

Dad was a well known guy, but I didn't want to end up being stuck in his shadow.

Honestly, it scared me to think that Mom was going to have a fit when she found out that I had zero intention of furthering my education after I graduated high school. She had always hoped that I would do something big, or even take over the bakery once she retired. In some way, I felt as though I was going to be letting her down big time, but the bakery had always been her dream, her passion, and even though I loved it, as well as helping out there, I shared more of my dad's vision.

I dreaded my senior year.

The sound of a truck and trailer pulling up to the ranch caught my attention, and I turned back to face Dad, who was already leading Scout over to the gate.

"Are you selling one of the horses?" I asked once he was close enough to hear me.

He moved to the ground and stepped out of the pen, handing me Scout's reigns. "Take her back to the stable and bring me Merlin."

"Merlin?" I asked, baffled. "You're selling Merlin?"

He nodded, lips thinning; he was getting agitated. "She's a breeding horse, Harley. You know we don't keep them for long." He jerked his chin toward the stables. "Get goin', would ya?"

Admittedly, I was a little annoyed. I mean, I knew we didn't keep breeding horses for too long; they went almost as quickly as the race horses that Dad trained. But I liked Merlin, and I was upset that Dad was selling her. I remembered Mom and Dad both telling me back when I was a child to never get too close to any of the horses that stayed with us, because they weren't pets—and we couldn't keep them.

They were part of the business.

There was a part of me that always hated that fact, but I had grown accustomed to it after witnessing more dealings than I could count. I could only hope that each horse we sold, for whatever purpose, ended up going to a good home, or was taken care of. It was funny, in some way, how Dad took care of the horses and ponies that came through to him—it was like he could speak horse. A lot of things had continued to surprise me, like how my parents were so different from each other—Mom with her bakery, Dad with the ranch and horse business—and yet they were so alike. Maybe one day I would have all of the answers to my questions.

Only time would tell.

I watched the guy—some stranger I would probably never encounter again—take Merlin away, and tried to ignore the fact that I was going to miss her. Dad lit up a cigarette, the smoke billowing in my direction, and eyed me coolly.

"You liked that horse, huh?" he asked, and leaned on the gate.

I nodded. "Yeah. She was something."

"Yeah, she was," he agreed. "But business is business."

I didn't bother to disagree on that, because I knew he was right—and it was a fact that was instilled in me since I was small. There would always be a part of me that didn't like it, but I knew that if I wanted to follow in Dad's footsteps, I would have to prove that I was capable of making good choices and seeing things through, like he did.

Unfortunately, my thoughts were cut short, because Dad started coughing, using his arm to cover his mouth, the nearly finished cigarette falling to the ground. He was swearing as he continued to hack, and before I could reach up to hit his back, he practically shoved me away, not wanting help. He had always been like that, though—not prone to accepting help, because he didn't want to appear weak. Mom once relayed that it was a trait he hadn't tossed; he had been like that since she had met him years ago.

"Dad!" I called when he bent over, continuing to cough, specks of blood flying from his mouth like spit. I inwardly panicked, and it was then that I realized there really was something wrong, something that he and Mom both knew about that they weren't telling me. "Dad . . ."

Finally, he stood up straight, his face beat red. There were a few minutes of silence that passed between us, as I didn't know what to say or what to do. I wanted to reach out, grab his arm to help steady him, but I didn't, afraid of how he would react. Dad and I had never been like that—Mom was more of the affectionate one. Dad was more gruff and cool to the point where I wasn't even sure if he knew how to be gentle like that. Still . . .

He glared at me, a serious glint in his icy eyes. "You tell your mother about this, and I'll beat the tar outta you."

I knew better than to cross him, so I nodded in understanding. "Okay."

And at that moment, I was too nervous to question him about what was going on.

I decided to attend the dance that night after all. I didn't have any fancy dresses or anything like that, so I settled on a small piece Mom had gotten for me a year ago. It still fit and it looked good—or at least, looked good enough for me—so I set curlers in my hair and applied some makeup to my face, nearly hating every bit of the process. I mean, I did find something therapeutic in dolling myself up for a change, but I couldn't ignore the thoughts that were plaguing my mind. I debated on telling Mom what had happened earlier at the ranch with Dad, but I promised I wouldn't.

Something was wrong, though . . . and I didn't know what to do about it.

"Wow, look at you!" Mom gushed, walking around me as she inspected my handiwork. "You look so grown-up and beautiful."

I smiled. "I don't look like an idiot?"

She laughed aloud. "Well, I see where one of my traits went down the line." She brushed a piece of hair out of my face. "You don't look like an idiot, Harley. You look wonderful."

"Thanks."

"So, are you going with friends, or—"

I shook my head, intervening. "No, I'm gonna drive there myself. It's easier." I forced a laugh. "That way I can leave when I want and don't have to rely on anyone."

A nod. "Good point."

It wasn't too much longer after that when I headed out, hating the fact that Mom had to take several pictures of me before letting me leave. I only had one disposable camera, and I didn't want all the space used up on me when I was planning to get pictures of my friends and I, as well as the entire night of fun I hoped would come about. It still upset me that Ethan wasn't taking me, but I did my best to brush it off and told myself that if Marvin Randle could take himself and not look like a goon, then so could I.

The school lot was practically jammed when I arrived, and I had gotten there early. I looked around for Lisa and Brian, who had promised to be there at six thirty. When I heard a honk, I glanced up, grinning when I saw Brian's jeep parked across the lot from where I was, Lisa smiling and waving from the passenger seat. I might have come solo, but I felt better having a friend or two to walk inside with, even if it was Meghan or Larry, who were supposedly attending. As I looked around while crossing the lot to Brian's jeep, I realized how many of my peers were standing in the line to get in . . . and a lot of them were without dates, too. Most had come in groups of friends, some with dates still standing around with their friends as well.

I didn't feel so alone then.

"Hey," Lisa said, Brian sending me a curt nod. "You look great! I never thought I'd live to see the day where Harley Mitchell wore a dress . . . and to a dance, no less."

I waved her off. "Don't get used to it."

She merely laughed. "Yeah, yeah."

Honestly, I couldn't hold a candle to a fraction of Lisa, for she looked amazing. Her red hair was curled and done up, her red dress fitting, but loose enough that it wasn't like a second skin. The white streams across the front made her pale skin pop, and her makeup was done to perfection. Brian complimented her with his red tie, and the rose he had pinned on his suit. I had to admit that they really looked great together—and I was happy for my friend.

Meghan, Larry, and a few of our other friends joined our group as we waited to get inside. The only real downfall was that it was freezing out, and the shawl I had was doing little to shield me from the bitterness of Winter's introduction. I did enjoy the cooler months, even though I preferred a warmer climate, but right then, I was starting to shake, goosebumps forming across my skin. Larry was kind enough to offer me his jacket, but I felt bad after about ten minutes and gave it back to him. Everyone was thankful when we were (finally) allowed inside, the warmer air hitting my skin almost immediately as I stepped into the building.

Thank the Lord.

"You know, I have to say, you don't look too shabby in a dress."

I jerked around, nearly spilling my punch as Marvin's face came into view. He was dressed in a suit, like the majority of every guy there, his hair brushed, a smile adorning his face. I had to admit that he didn't look bad, if you could believe that, and for once, his smile seemed more genuine, not like the sarcastic one I was used to seeing, like when he made a jab directed at me. Well, if he was going to be polite and cordial, I supposed I could be, too.

"Thanks," I replied, and took a sip of my drink. "I suppose you can pull off wearing a suit."

He chuckled. "It's not exactly my thing, but I guess you're right."

My brows raised. "Don't be too cocky."

"I wasn't," he defended himself, though his voice hadn't sounded indignant. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you decided to come."

Now I was momentarily confused. I mean, I know that Marvin suggested I attend the dance, even if I was coming without a date, but it still surprised me that he had outright made that remark—and I wasn't sure if I should take it as a compliment or a possible threat. But then I composed myself, remembering that Marvin once accused me of being too judgmental of him . . . and I guess he was right. I did always assume the worst about him, though—in my defense—I had good reason to. Right then, however, I didn't want to pick a fight or start a disagreement; there was no need to spoil a good night.

"Me, too."

At that particular moment, some love song started to play, and I turned back to face the punch bowl as several couples made their way out to the middle of room to slow dance. I don't know why, but some part of that scene made me feel embarrassed. I mean, I wasn't really a shy girl, by any means, but Ethan wasn't there, so I felt a little . . . single. Some part of me realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it was the truth—and it didn't help that I was standing there with Marvin Randle while the dumb song was playing; that was humiliating.

Gross.

I'm not sure how, but Marvin seemed to pick up on my feelings.

"You want to get some fresh air?"

I nodded, a weird feeling in the pit of my gut. "Sure."

Marvin and I ended up walking around outside for a little bit, but it was way too cold to stay out there, so we went back inside and wandered the halls while engaged in a conversation. It did feel weird to me to be walking around talking with Marvin Randle as if we were good friends. I mean, I guess I was beginning to warm up to him a little, as he was acting decent toward me, and he was able to carry out a conversation with me on a mature level, something I hadn't thought him capable of. I know, I had been overly cynical about him and his abilities, but that particular night, I was starting to realize that I had severely misjudged him.

To be honest, he was an okay guy.

I hated the fact that I was enjoying talking with him, and one of the things that we had ended up talking about was my dad. Now, it struck me funny later on that I had opened up to him so easily, and he did seem to listen to me, even offering some advice here and there . . . but I was letting myself be vulnerable in a way that I hadn't been with anyone before . . . ever. I even recalled being slightly annoyed with him earlier that day in English class, thinking that I would never relay any of my problems to him, and yet, here I was . . . doing just that. I then (weirdly) remembered the fact that Dad had always liked Marvin, and several months prior to this, it made me angry. Usually, Dad and I agreed on a lot of things, but his fondness for Marvin and dislike for Ethan was where we differed.

Marvin and I had walked around and talked for a good forty-or-so minutes before heading back to the gymnasium where the dance was held . . . and by that time, everyone was starting to leave. I couldn't believe that I had lost track of time.

Lisa was the first to see me, her eyes wide with shock as she saw Marvin and I walk in together, and I admit that I couldn't blame her for looking at me with an expression of disbelief and . . . slight anger.

"Harley," she called, voice stern, and made her way over to me. "What are you doing?"

I shrugged. "Nothing," I answered. "Marvin and I were just talking—"

She cut me off, worry forming across her face. "Talking? You've been gone for almost an hour." She took a breath, calming herself. I knew her being upset wasn't about me, but because I was with Marvin, although nothing had happened between us; it was because she knew him and I never really got along, until the book project. "Look," she continued quietly, "I'm not gonna say anything, but if you have something you'd like to share with me, Harley . . ." She looked me dead in the eyes. "You know where to find me."

My brows furrowed as I stared after her. "What? What's that supposed to mean?"

She glanced back at me. "Isn't it obvious?"

I told myself that I didn't understand what she was saying to me, but the truth was that I did, and the rush I began to feel at the sudden realization only caused a pang of guilt to rise along with it . . . and that scared me, because it was something that I didn't know how to handle.

Maybe your attention was more

Than you could do

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