AN: Okay, so I forgot to mention in the last chapter that this is an AU story (hence why Johnny and Dally are still alive while Pony has blonde hair). Anywho, I wrote this next chapter at work, so if it seems a bit "out of it," it's because I had to concentrate on the customers more than my story (go figure). And since I've been on my feet for 8 1/2 hours, I think I'll just take it easy and get this posted. Yes?

Enjoy, Kats and Kittens.

Chapter Two:

"Who wants popcorn?"

Steve stands and looks around at the gang sitting in the drive-in plastic chairs. By some miracle, no one had to work or be out with their girlfriend or get drunk and steal from the local drug store (not that Two-Bit hadn't already done that, but he is less drunk than usual, so I suppose that counts for something, right?).

Rarely ever do we get these sort of moments, and rarely ever does Steve offer to buy us popcorn. He takes orders for food and drinks, then turns to me.

"Hey, Pony, why don't you give me a hand?"

"I can help ya, Steve," Soda starts, but I am already on my feet, attempting not to look too excited.

"Race ya!" I laugh, sprinting towards the "snack shack." His footsteps are right behind me, and then his figure is visible in my peripheral vision. He has me by the arm, and he's leading me around the building to where it's deserted and dark and where most couples go to make out. I'm sure he's brought his girlfriend here more than a few times.

I don't mind, really. About his girlfriend, I mean. Because right now his thoughts are on me, and right now he has me shoved up against the cold stone of the wall. He's crushing me, and my ribs feel like they'll crack under the pressure, but the adrenaline rush and the lack of oxygen are making me dizzy, creating a sort of self-induced high.

Sounds waft and echo from everywhere. Wet noises of people's tongues scraping across skin, groans and moans as they push desperately against one another. I gasp as Steve's fingertips slowly inch their way into my jeans. If I had my way, we'd be here all night, but . . .

"W-We've only got so long before they start wondering where we are," I manage through shuddering breaths.

"Let 'em wonder," he replies, and I can feel the smirk he wears against my lips. "We'll just say we met up with someone or something, got to talkin', I guess."

That's Steve. He says everything with such confidence that not even a lie detector can tell if what comes out of his mouth is the truth or not.

And then he's on his knees and fumbling with the button on my pants.

I want to tell him to stop, that I'm not ready, that it's too soon. We had only just kissed for the first time this morning.

If he could only see the look on my face, if he could only read my thoughts.

If I could only say his name . . .

"Steve!"

Wow. That was louder than expected. Oh, wait . . . That wasn't me . . .

0 o 0 o 0

The grip on my arm is painful, but I dare not make a single noise, not after what had just happened over the past few minutes.

Soda had found us. My initial thought had been, "Thank God it isn't Darry," but I soon realized that in Steve's case, Soda could be more dangerous than ten Darrys put together. Steve had stood slowly, not looking at my brother at first, then turned to face him, blocking me from view so I could put myself right.

There are few things that scare Steve Randle, and between him and Soda, he's usually the more aggressive one. So nothing could scare Steve more than an angry Sodapop Curtis because it takes a lot to get Soda mad . . . a lot.

And right then and there, he was the picture of Steve's worst nightmare.

The yelling came first. Soda shot off like a bottle rocket . . . except that instead of diminishing, he just kept growing louder and louder . . . and louder.

Finally, the yelling stopped. But it's always more dangerous when the yelling ceases and all that surrounds you is silence . . . Silence because the screaming has taken away the fun of being in the dark with someone you know, someone you love, or some complete stranger.

How Soda's fist found Steve's jaw in the pitch black, I'll never know. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out how he found us in the first place. I could just barely see his outline in the darkness, and for a moment it looked like he was going to pounce on his now ex-best friend. He hesitated, however, and decided to grab me and pull me away from the scene.

And that's why my stomach has seemed to fall into an endless abyss. Because Soda's not only dragging me away from Steve . . . He's dragging me towards Darry, and I can see on his face that he has every intention of telling our eldest brother what he just witnessed.

The only problem is he doesn't exactly know what he witnessed.

What he probably saw (if he could see at all) was Steve about to . . . Well, we all get the picture, I'm sure . . . and he probably saw the freaked look on my face. No wonder he blames Steve. It's all my fault.

"Soda . . ." I start quietly but receive no answer from the stoic face my brother has plastered on. "S-Soda?"

"Don't say another word, Pony," he forces roughly, and for the first time I can see the tears welling in his eyes and his determination to hold them back. "Just . . . Don't say anything."

I take a deep breath, hold it in for a moment before whispering, "You aren't going to tell on Steve and me, are you?"

This stops him in his tracks, and he spins around to stare at me wide-eyed.

"Pony . . . You let him . . . God, what were you . . ." Soda stammers, a disgusted look in his eyes. My heart sinks. I thought he, of all people, would understand. He's supposed to understand.

Why doesn't he understand?

He's pulling me again, this time at a faster pace. Great. I guess he figures if he walks fast enough, this will never have happened.

Only it did happen. And we're getting dangerously closer and closer to Darry and the others. I open my mouth to plead one last time with him, but I am cut off as Soda yells Darry's name.

We're standing right behind them now, and they're all laughing because someone on screen sad something witty.

"Just a second, little brother," Darry laughs. "This is the best-"

"Darry!" Soda yells his name so loud that several heads turn and a few people shush us.

Our older brother turns with a look of surprise on his face, and seeing Soda's fury and my obvious anxiety, he stands and heads towards us.

Soda, suddenly, turns to me and seethes through clenched teeth, "Stay right here."

"What's going on?" Darry asks quietly, ruffling his fingers through my hair.

"We need to talk," Soda says as he starts to walk away. Darry spares me one last questioning look before following him.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Johnny whispers, but I can't look at him. I can't look at any of them. "Pony!" He tries again, and this time I give him, Two-Bit, and Dally a fleeting glance.

"Hey, Buddy, what's wrong?" Two-Bit turns almost fully in his seat to look at me carefully. "Where's Steve?"

My bottom lip begins to quiver, and I rub my arm where Soda had squeezed too hard. My eyes are on him now, and Darry keeps nodding and listening, looking in my direction occasionally.

"Pony, where's Steve?" Dally demands, his voice more insistent than Two-Bit's or Johnny's. Darry's jaw is tightening little by little, and his eyes are now boring imaginary holes into my head. My breaths are labored, my chest too tight. Did it suddenly get hotter? My head spins with dizziness and I take a step backward to keep my balance.

"Pony?" Darry questions, a cautious look in his eye. He thinks I'm going to bolt. Maybe I should . . . Wait, did I mean that?

Before I have anymore time to think, my feet are pounding against the pavement, my name being called as they try to run after me.

I don't know where I'm going, but as long as it's as far from this place as possible, I couldn't really give a damn. Their voices are getting further away. Thank God for track.

And, so, for the second time in my life, I'm running from the very people who had promised to take care of me, to understand, and to love me no matter what.

Liars.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard to any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

So, Kats and Kittens, what do you think? Where do you think he'll go? What do you think he'll do?

. . . Seriously, cause I have NO clue . . . I'm not kidding . . . Stop laughing . . . It's not that funny . . . You're done . . .