Update! :D

I don't know if I should continue doing this story, I'm debating over it. I might write another one and just update both, but I'm not sure. Should I keep writing this one, and start working on another one?

I don't own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton.

"If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you can find out first hand what it's like to be me." Is a line from My Chemical Romance's song, "The End." from their album, "Welcome to the Black Parade."

Happy Reading!

I can not even explain how embarrassed I was. My hair was up in a ponytail, with a yellow headband. I started wearing my hair like that when I sleep and for other things, because one day when I was about fourteen, my brother yelled "Jazzy, that makes your hair look like a flame!" I thought, hell yes! So I put my hair up like that whenever I feel the urge to. I didn't want them to see, though. I was guessing my face was all puffy, it usually is when I wake up. I had absolutely no makeup on, and I was wearing grey sweatpants and a blue checkered shirt. The whole gang was there, with the exception of Darry and Dallas. I just stared at the gang for a minute, then finally said "Umm, hi." With what probably looked like a confused demeanor on my face.

"Damn, did we wake you?" Steve asked.

"Uh, yeah. But it's fine, it's one in the afternoon."

I was utterly embarrassed that they could tell I just woke up. I felt like hiding.

"Man, we're sorry." Soda said.

"No no, it's fine, it really is." I said. "I gotta get dressed though, I'll be right back. Come in if you want, eat some toast or something." Do we even have any toast? I thought to myself. The gang proceeded to walk in my house, and I went in my room to get dressed.

I put on some blue jeans, and a yellow plaid shirt. I then ran into the bathroom to do makeup and all that stuff. I looked at myself and thought, "If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you can find out first hand what it's like to be me." I put on some black eye shadow, and black eyeliner making it look like I had another eyelash. I then just brushed my hair and put it up in the same ponytail and headband, I decided I didn't care what they thought of me. Ben was still sleeping, I knew that would happen. My Dad was at work, and I hadn't seen him since I left last night.

I walked into the kitchen, and as I suspected… there was no toast. I felt humiliated. I then made some, had a bite of one, and put it back on the plate. I walked into the living room, and the whole gang was watching Mickey Mouse. I laughed, thinking I'd never see the day when a bunch of hoods were in my house watching Mickey Mouse. It just about made my day. I stood there silent for a minute. Then, I realized something I wish I hadn't. My tattoo was visible. I thought I was about to cry. My sleeve wasn't long enough. Great, I thought. Now I'm going to have to explain what's up with this. I wasn't the smartest, or the nicest kid in the world, like I said. But the tattoo of the feather I got on my upper arm was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done. It hurt like hell, too.

I started trying to hide it. Maybe they didn't notice, I thought. I mean, they're watching Mickey Mouse. My face started to get hot. I thought I was going to burst. The only two people in this world who knew I had a tattoo was Ben, and my Dad.

Dad said I shouldn't tell Mom that I got it, because she would freak out. Plus, I was sixteen at the time. A tear made its way down my cheek, remembering the terrible memories that came with it.

"Are you okay?" Ponyboy asked.

"N-No, No, I'm fine. It's nothing."

"You have a tattoo?" Two-Bit asked.

The rest of the gang looked at me.

"Uhmm, yeah." I hesitantly said. I felt like I was going to die.

"Most of us don't even have tattoos." Steve said. "But I do."

"Oh." I replied.

I didn't want to talk about the topic anymore, so I said "Uh. I made some toast. I didn't realize that there was none when I told you to eat some, sorry."

Sodapop looked at me with wonder. "I'll be right back." I said, and ran in my room.

I started crying as black trails ran down my face. I'm a wreck, I thought. Get it together, Jasmine. Soda came in my room. What the hell is he doing in here? I thought.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I won't tell the rest of the gang."

"My tattoo." I said.

"What?"

"My tattoo. I wasn't exactly itching for you to see it." I replied.

"Why not?"

"It has bed memories wrapped around it." I responded with.

Sodapop looked like he actually cared.

"Care to explain?" he asked.

I looked down. I felt like I was about to cry again.

"I had a boyfriend a few years ago. We dated for four years. His name was Jake. We were in love. But," I said. I felt like I was going to choke. "He started drinking. He started beating me, and hurting me for no reason. He wasn't a happy drunk."

Sodapop looked in my eyes. I thought I was going to die.

"And, he drunk so much it, It killed him." I choked up. "I got this tattoo to remember that I'm free, from everything now. If you look closely, it says 'Free' in the feather. See?" I held up my arm. He looked closely, and it seemed that he saw it.

"Wow, I'm really sorry." He said.

"It was stupid. I, I shouldn't have gotten the tattoo."

"Well, when did you get it?" he replied.

"When I was sixteen. I'm going to be eighteen soon, so about two years ago."

"I'm really sorry. The same thing happened to me, even though it was a little different. I had a girlfriend, and her name was Sandy. I was thinking about marrying her, but she moved to Florida because," There was a long pause. "Because she was having a baby, and I wasn't the Dad." He said.

"That's awful." I replied. "I'm sorry."

He smiled at me. I couldn't believe we had just opened up to each other, it was weird. He's the only person on this Earth, other than me of course, who knows the true meaning of my tattoo. I picked up my eyeliner and started reapplying it. My Dad says I get my makeup skills from a raccoon some days, and today was one of those.

"How old are you?" I asked while applying some mascara.
"Um, I'm seventeen. I'll be eighteen in a month."

"Yeah, me too. Mine's on the twenty fourth," I said. "When's yours?"

"The twenty seventh." He responded.

"Geesh, that's really close." I said.

"Mhmm." He replied.

I was then on to eye shadow. I bet he felt uncomfortable just sitting on my bed. He stood up and started looking at the old pictures on my shelf. He laughed at the one of me with my ruby red hair flying on my yellow bike.

"Is your hair naturally that red?" he asked.

"It was when I was younger." I replied. "I have to dye it every month."

"Why do you have it so red and out there?" he kept going.

"I'm not sure, I like it, and I could care less what people think of me." I responded.

"Well, I'm going in the living room. I wouldn't want the gang to think something we didn't."

"Yeah, me too." I said.

I finished putting my makeup on, and went in the living room. My hair, I thought. With that, I took my hair out of the ponytail, flipped it, and put it back in the ponytail. Everyone was still watching Mickey Mouse, and there was only one piece of toast gone… and it was the one I took a bite out of. I laughed silently.

"Do you wanna do anything today?" Two-Bit asked.

"Um, sure I guess." I replied.

"We should go to the arcade!" Steve announced.

"Yeah, that cool with you guys?" Ponyboy said.

Everyone nodded their heads. I sat down on the couch. I felt awful still. I just wanted to go home to Joplin. I barely even knew these guys; Just because they saved me doesn't mean I want them around, ya know? Yeah, they're all cute and stuff, but I just want to be alone. I didn't wanna be mean though.

"Wanna come?" Sodapop asked.

"Uh, sure." I said, contradicting myself.

"Alright, let's go." Johnny said.

And with that, we were out the door.

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