Hello. (: I know, it's been quite a while since my last update. I apologize for that. I have a mountainous pile of excuses I could give, though none of them are very good. So I'll just say sorry, and please enjoy the chapter. :]

Disclaimer; I do not own The Outsiders.

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Steve and Soda spent the rest of the night in each other's presence. They didn't separate until later that evening, when Soda offered that Steve spend the night. Steve declined, though, stating that had something else to do the following morning. But that was a lie. Secretly, he was still just curious towards what had happened with Friday, but he didn't want to inform Soda that he was going to act as a stalker and amble back over to her residence.

The sun was situating slowly beneath the horizon as Steve exited Soda's home. By the time he had arrived at Friday's, it had disappeared completely. Nighttime settled in to replace it, which caused Steve to be expectant of Friday being inside her home. To his surprise, however, she was seated in a chair on her porch, rocking back and forth gently with what looked like a bundle of ice pressed against her cheek. Steve came closer towards the front steps and caught Friday's eye. She jumped up quickly, and then looked to him with the tiniest trace of a glare.

"What're you doing here…?" she demanded, clutching the package of frost tighter to her cheek. Steve inspected her face, but was unable to find a disruption in its texture until he invited himself fully onto the porch.

"Don't sound too excited to see me," he remarked sarcastically, still staring towards her cheek. Friday stepped backward, camouflaging herself beneath the shadows of the porch.

"Quit staring."

Steve smiled, only because he couldn't help it. He'd never seen Friday irritated before.

"You look real sick," he commented, "air-quoting" the word sick.

"Yeah, I am real sick."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, tapping his foot against the porch.

"And what're ya sick with?"

"Mmm … chicken pox. But a real special kind that involves … ice packs."

"Come on, Friday," persisted Steve, and he smiled charmingly enough for a greaser that Friday broke.

"Fine. Take a look…" she muttered, removing the ice from her cheek. Steve squinted at whatever was there, which revealed itself to be five long scratch marks broadened across her face. The ice seemed to have decreased a significant amount of the swelling, however.

"Lord," said Steve, taking a step nearer. "What the hell happened?"

"Yer wonderful ex's, that's what," said Friday miserably.

"Ex's? Evie?"

"Evie and Lisa," corrected Friday, bringing the ice pack close to her cheek once again.

"They—what?—attacked you?" demanded Steve, mimicking Friday as she took a seat on the steps of her porch.

"Yeah. On my way back from the DX. They told me that I'd better stay away from you—or else," Friday explained, noticeably lowering her tone of voice when she spoke the words "or else".

"What the hell?" growled Steve. "Wait, lemme get this straight—that's why ya wouldn't come out earlier?"

"Er, yeah," said Friday embarrassedly. "But you showed up just a few minutes after they attacked me. So…I guess I was bein' paranoid…thinkin' that maybe they'd still be near my house…." She bit her lip ashamedly and faced away from Steve, her cheeks raging a scarlet color that could be seen even in the darkness of the porch.

"Aw, c'mon, Friday," said Steve, "ya can't be intimidated by those stupid broads."

"Yeah, well," said Friday, suddenly defensive, "I'd rather not get another five scratches down my face, thanks. Lisa's got damn sharp nails…"

"I don't get it. Why did Lisa want—hold on a sec, did you just say damn?" said Steve, genuinely surprised by the appearance of the cuss word.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Friday admitted quietly, staring fixedly at the foot of her porch as though she hadn't even realized she'd said the "d" word. "Ugh—see that? They made me curse."

"Yeah," Steve snorted, "they made you curse."

"Steve—"

"So, are we still goin' out on Friday or not?" interrupted Steve, arching each of his eyebrows expectantly. "I could talk to Evie and Lisa the next time either of them shows up at the DX, if ya want."

Friday looked to Steve appreciatively and smiled. "Yeah. We're still on for Friday. And sorry I didn't get to meet Soda."

"No problem. I'm gonna try and talk him into doubling next Friday, though he already said no. You wouldn't mind if we doubled, would ya?" questioned Steve, and Friday responded to this with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

"Sure. That'll be fun. I really do wanna meet Soda," she said, slowly inching her way towards the front door. "So, I'll uh, see ya Monday?"

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, that reminds me, what about school?"

"What about it?" retorted Friday.

"Yer never there."

"Oh," Friday said, her forehead perking. "That's 'cause I'm homeschooled. My lessons are all at night. My mom teaches me herself, but she's gotta work during the morning."

"Oh," answered Steve, unable to produce a better remark. Although secretly he was thinking: There ain't nothing normal about this chick, is there? as she bid him a final goodbye and headed inside.

Somehow, though, Steve had become pleasantly acquainted with the idea of anti-normality. He had come to like it better than familiarity, even.