Once again, I want to thank everyone for the reviews! They make me happy :]

A/N: I read your opinions on the pairings and just hope that you'll enjoy the direction this story is heading! But I have another question to ask: what do you think of the characters? Are they staying true or….?

A/N2: Also! The first part of this chapter is a bit of self-reflection, but bear through it, it gets better :] And let's all try to remember that this is the 60's, people didn't know about the dangers of smoking or caffeine then while pregnant.

Oh! And because I haven't done so before: The Outsiders is property of S.E. Hinton…and not me.

-Here's a nice long chapter for ya, so please, be forthcoming with the love ;] Sorry about any grammar/spelling mistakes; I have issues with correcting it.

Chapter 9~

When Dallas left it was only 4:55 in the morning. All of the fear and worry and doubt that had been tormenting me for the last six months were just gone, like a glass of water that was too full then suddenly tipped over. For nearly half a year I had longed for the day when I wouldn't have to bear any of those things again. I held on to that longing like a good dream, you know the kind, the kind that you know you won't be able to remember once you've really woken up. All you know is that you did dream.

But the only thing I felt now was empty.

Sleeping at that point was out of the picture, so I tried picking up where I left off in A Tale of Two Cities. It was almost six o'clock now. The sun was starting to come up by the time I realized that I had been reading the same paragraph over and over again. I guess I wasn't really reading it at all, just staring at the page like it would finally start making some sort of sense if I looked at it long enough. It never did. I couldn't understand any of what I was trying to read.

I didn't realize just how tired I was until I stood up to stretch. I was going to have to make sure to go to bed earlier tonight than I usually do unless I want to fall over at work. It's annoyingly weird just how easily I can lay my head on a table or lean back in a chair and take a nap like it was nothing, when last night I couldn't keep my eyes closed to save my own life. Go figure. I decided that I may as well get my day started, but first I just wanted to go outside and sit on the porch steps and try to smoke a cigarette like I used to do. I made sure to turn off my alarm clock before I left my room; I had it set to wake me up at seven. I had to be at work by eight today because it was my turn to open up for Dottie, it was early but I don't mind because I like the extra money.

The nightstand that I kept the alarm clock sitting on had an extra door at the top, it was small, very small, and until I started smoking a few years ago I had no idea what to use it for. I slid it open slowly to prevent much noise, wondering why everything seemed so much louder when you were the only person awake, and took out the cigarettes I haven't been able to smoke for some months now. I wiped the small amount of dust and fuzz that had gathered on the top and sides of the pack then brought it up to take a sniff. The smell of stale tobacco lingered in my nose even as I quietly left my room, stepping over areas on the floor that I knew had a creaky board or two, and quickly opened the screen door and stepped out into the early morning.

I really don't know why I bothered staying so concerned with being quiet so I wouldn't wake my brothers- they were both heavy sleepers, and probably wouldn't wake up even if I ran through the house belting Jailhouse Rock at the top of my lungs. Well, maybe not. But I suppose having Dallas Winston sneaking into my room in the wee hours of the morning and accusing me of being pregnant with his kid had me a little paranoid.

I couldn't actually see the sun rise, but I took notice of how the skyline began to brighten, slowly at first, but then quicker as the minutes came and went. It was like God was pouring bleach into the sky, white dominated over the dark and bled the colors to create even more colors, turning dark gray into purples and pinks and oranges. I wished someone was here to share this with me, more importantly I wished Johnny had decided to stay over at our place last night instead of going home and trying to brave his parents. I hated his parents, even more than I hated Dallas, or even Steve.

Johnny's house was quiet, which meant his father was passed out drunk and probably his mother, too. It would've been quiet anyway, considering it was so early, but that didn't change the fact Johnny's useless parents were drunks. I never could understand why Johnny didn't just stay with us; it was almost like he couldn't say no to his parents, even though they never asked anything of him. I knew he was looking for some way, somehow, to get those assholes to love him. He couldn't help it, he just wanted them to love him so bad, and that was because he couldn't stop loving them.

It was at this moment that finally made me realize why Johnny considered Dally his hero. Johnny looked up to Dallas because he wants to be like him, but can't. Dally doesn't love anything or anybody, and if Johnny could be the same way then he could finally give up on those losers he calls parents. But…then maybe he could give up on me, too.

Thinking about Dallas just deepened the emptiness I felt, and also made me feel like what I was remembering was the weirdest thing I could possibly think of at the moment. Though, it seemed to fit.

I was remembering something from when I was six years old. The Oklahoma State Fair was only half an hour away from where we lived and it was the most exciting thing that I had ever heard of. Being only six the swirling thoughts of rides, cotton candy and funnel cake, colorful lights everywhere, and being around so many tiny people that were just my size was enough to send me into a tizzy. I had begged Mom for days to take me, but she never budged. Dad saw how badly I wanted to go, and being Dad, he probably wanted to go just as much as I did. He convinced Mom in that way only he could. My brothers and I could never figure what it was he would do to convince Mom to let us do half the things we were allowed to do; she was strict and commanding, a whole like Darry is now, but she was kind and warm at the same time. Dad acted just the way Soda does now, wild and reckless, living life to the fullest, and not growing up even if you offered him the entire world. Man, how I missed them…

Anyways, on the day I had given up even asking if I could go, Dad had started yelling at 3 o'clock in the afternoon that we had all better hurry it on out to the truck if we really wanted to go to the Fair. It was so random and so exciting, and that day was just about the closest thing to a perfect day that I could remember.

Its strange then that the thing I was remembering now was so insignificant-something that when compared to all the wonderful attractions that I had become busy with and with all the time we had spent together as a family- and just simple.

There was something at one of the stands, bright red and glossy, reflecting the different colors of the lights that were flashing constantly everywhere. I had never wanted a balloon so bad in my life. I had started to shuffle around in my pockets to look for the remaining change I could've swore I had left over from the 50 cents Dad given me and my brothers to spend at the Fair. I began to cry when I couldn't find any, not one dull penny. I had caught Darry's attention with the fuss I was making, and being the ten-year-old big brother he was, he bought it for me to shut me up. But I could tell he was pleased with himself by how happy he had made me.

Darry was so young back then, so carefree and happy, and he was just beginning to really look like our dad. At barely 20 he looked exactly like Dad, and it was almost hard to look at him for awhile after Mom and Dad died. I wonder if that's the way Darry and Soda feel when they look at me; they were convinced I looked just like Mom, but I didn't see it. I think Soda resembles her more than I do, but then again, I often hear people telling me how much I'm starting to look like Sodapop as I get older. Another thing I just didn't see. Sodapop was, in a simple explanation, nearly perfect in appearance, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that I'll ever be as attractive.

Darry tied the balloon around my wrist and that thing went everywhere with me for the next couple of hours; I even avoided riding some of the rides just so I wouldn't have to part with it. I had fallen asleep at some point, I can't really remember, but I guess Dad had carried me back to the truck because the next thing I knew I was waking up between my parents in the front seat as we soared down the highway. Dad always was a fast driver. I had felt my little heart break when we made it home. I had wiggled my way from the seat to stand on my own two legs, and when I started down the walkway I felt something tug at my wrist.

I had forgotten about my balloon, and when I looked down I didn't know what to think. My bright, shiny, beautiful red balloon wasn't what it was such a short time ago. What laid at my feet wasn't a balloon at all, it was nothing more than a shriveled, wrinkled, flat piece of elastic material. It was lacking the air that had made it what it was, what had made it so appealing and special. It was empty.

I felt like that airless balloon, that's the only way I can describe the way I feel right now.

I think too much.

I needed to stop thinking so much, I decided while looking at the cigarette wedged between my fingers. When I took that first hit it was like heaven. I could feel the effects immediately as it influenced my system and helped me stay calm. I haven't smoked in months and I was starting to get a little buzzed from the large hits I was taking, especially as I lit up another one. I knew trying to smoke was a bad idea, even before I bent over the porch to throw up. Stupid pregnancy! I didn't care; it was worth it, even though it only lasted for a few minutes.

Going back inside I noticed that it was still quiet in the Curtis house, which meant that I was still the only one awake. We have a rule in the house: first one up makes breakfast; the other two clean up and wash the dishes. I used to love to cook, and I still do, but working at the Dingo made me hate to serve people when I didn't have to, some days I even hated being around food. All for the better, though. If it were up to Sodapop we'd be having chocolate cake, and I still haven't really gotten over my aversion to it just yet. Throwing up once this morning was quite enough. I was sick of eggs and bacon, so I settled on making French toast and sausage links. I guess I wasn't really paying attention (which, according to Darry and Dally, isn't anything new) and made more than I had originally intended; I ended up using an entire new loaf of bread. Good thing we all eat like pigs in this family, and I'm pretty sure the rest of the gang would be stopping by, so it wouldn't be going to waste.

It had just turned ten after seven, Darry would be up soon. I decided to do him a favor by having coffee made when he woke up. He really does work too hard. Even with Soda having a fulltime job and me having a part-time job, Darry still has to work two jobs. It really isn't fair. It makes me feel horrible about the argument we had last night, horrible about all the arguments we've ever had. I should really cut him some slack, I mean, things happen that cause people to act certain ways even if that's not the way they want to act. Darry having to work so much and take the responsibility of me and Soda and give up going to college…it has to wear him out. And I know that being tired all the time will cause you to be just a little more than intolerable at times. Still, I couldn't help but notice the content he holds for me in his icy blue-green eyes. He might not hate me, but he hates the way I've halted his life, and I believe that's why he's so bitter. But he needs to cut me some slack too, it's not like I asked Mom and Dad to be killed.

I pray to God that I will never blame my baby for how my life turned out, not for anything.

I really needed to take a shower before my brothers get up. Darry doesn't usually shower in the mornings, he takes his at night to wash off all the sweat and grime from roofing houses and says that the hot water does wonders for his pulled muscles. Soda is a different story; he'll take two showers, in the morning to wake him up and when he gets home to wash off all the car grease and oil, but the problem is that he takes absolutely forever. I swear, he's worse than a girl, and I would know because I'm one of those who like to take their time and primp.

It was late enough in the morning to not really be so concerned with how quiet I was being-my brothers needed to wake up anyway-and so I wasn't so cautious when I went to my room to grab my uniform; I just had it traded in for a bigger size, probably bigger than what was necessary, but I didn't want to ask Dottie every month or two for a new one. It was a typical waitress garb: a one piece dress that stopped a little above the knee and white with red strips and red buttons that started at the bust line and went all the way to the waist, and ruffles underneath it to make it look like a poofy 50's get-up. The good part about the uniform was the large red apron that went over it. Normally, the apron would be form fitting, but I convinced Dottie that I was really insecure about all the extra weight I had put on. So she gave me a much appreciated extra large, big enough to cover my belly because all that was left was a men's size in case a new cook was hired.

A woman came in the Dingo for dinner one day a couple of weeks ago, she was pregnant and said she was only 5 months, but she looked so much bigger than me and I was almost 6 months along. Compared to her I didn't even look pregnant. Maybe that's how I was getting by for as long as I was. I was angry suddenly. Why am I still putting myself through all this trouble to hide when it was made very clear last night that people already knew everything?

Oh, yea...because I'm a chicken that can't tell her own brothers, that's why.

The spray of the water wasn't as hot as I usually liked it, but it was still relaxing all the same. I stepped out and finished getting ready. I was leaning in towards the mirror with my mouth open in a big 'O' shape- I don't know why, but it helps me with putting eye makeup on- and had just started applying mascara when I heard Soda pounding on the bathroom door.

"Come on, Girlie! Hurry it up, would ya?"

"I'm almost finished!"

"Hurry up!" He shouted again. I could tell he just woke up by the tone of his voice; it was the only time he yelled like that. But somehow he even made yelling sound cheerful, kind of like Dallas can always make everything sound angry.

"I'm goin' as fast as I can, Soda! Don't get your panties in a twist." I heard him chuckle behind the door. "I made breakfast. Go eat while I finish."

"Just don't take too long, okay, Baby? We all gotta get ready for work in this house."

He was gone by the time I started applying mascara to my other eye. I finished about two minutes later then tied my hair up with a red ribbon before I opened the door. I looked across the hall to see that Soda had gone back to his room and was already asleep again. I went over to him and shook him a little. "Come on, Soda. The bathroom's free." When he gave me a grumbled 'okay' I left him. I wanted to eat, and as much as I love the Dingo's food I'm beginning to get sick of it.

I had to pass through the living room to get to the kitchen and I saw Two-Bit, like any other time, snoring away on my couch. He must have got here while I was in the shower. Kinda late to be crawling back from a party, even for him. I just shrugged and continued on to the kitchen.

Darry was out of bed, but I couldn't really say he was awake. He was sitting at the breakfast table with his head lying next to an empty coffee cup, shirtless and only in his underwear. His nearly black hair was ungreased (he didn't wear much of it anyway, just a little to keep it tame) and sticking up in different directions, and that mixed with how his cheek was squished because of his head laying the way it was on the table, made him look so much younger, like his own age. His arms were even hanging limply to his sides, nearly brushing the floor, and I would've laughed at the image he was making if it weren't for the way his eyebrows were pinched together-he was in pain, even in his sleep. I wanted to cry for him, but I didn't.

I reached over him to grab his cup and then poured him some coffee. I sat down the coffee and just looked at his face for a moment, trying to see if there were any features that we shared. Our lips were exactly the same, full and dark pink, and we both had pointed cheekbones. But that was about it. He looked like Dad, Soda looked like Mom, and I guess I was a mixture of both our parents (mostly Mom, though). My oldest brother sure was handsome, I'd have to admit. Soda was extremely good-looking, like a movie star, and you could go as far as to say he's beautiful. Darry was beautiful, too, but in a different way; he was a rugged and manly type of handsome. If it weren't for Darry's cold eyes and the fact that he never smiled he would be just as good-looking as Sodapop.

"Darry."

"Hmm?" He grunted.

"Ya know…a kitchen table is no place for a grown man to fall asleep."

He sat up quickly, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. "I'm not sleepin'. I'm up." I outright laughed at him, something I would never dream of doing any other time, but I just couldn't help it. Darry was struggling to keep his head up and he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. If it wasn't for his height and bulging muscles I would've said he looked like a little kid.

"Sure you are, Darry. That's why there's drool on the table." I really couldn't help teasing him, despite the fact that I felt bad for him, cause let's be honest, how many times will I ever be able to do this?

He cracked one eye open to glare half-heartedly at me. "Shut it."

I rolled my eyes and ignored his threat. "I made breakfast, as you can see. Want me to fix you a plate?"

"Sure," Darry said, nodding his head heavily. "Think you could…"

"Heat up the syrup?"

The right corner of his mouth tilted up. "Yea"

The syrup was already sitting in the microwave ready to be heated. Darry didn't even have to ask; all three of us liked our syrup the same way, hot and buttery. I put a good-sized amount of French toast and sausage on a plate, and then when the syrup was finished I sat it on the table and placed the plate of food into the microwave.

Darry yawned loudly, moving his arms slowly to stretch above his head, but quickly put them back down with a silent groan. He rotated his shoulder, trying to ease a muscle I knew he couldn't reach.

"You pulled another muscle again yesterday, didn't you?"

"It ain't bad."

I shook my head. "You're lying. You can't even stretch without wincing. I thought you said you wasn't gonna try and haul two bundles of roofin' at a time no more."

"Ponygirl," his voice took on that strict like quality, "drop it."

"You did promise you wouldn't, Darry." I couldn't leave it alone, I never could; if he could worry about me, then I sure as anything could worry about him, too. "I just don't want to have to worry about you. One day you're gonna hurt yourself because you're so hardheaded and won't listen to anybody. I just…don't want you hurt."

He grabbed my hand, and his much larger calloused hand dwarfed my smaller smooth one. "Listen, Girle. You may not know it, but I promise you that I know my limits. I know how much I can push myself."

"You shouldn't have to be pushin' yourself, though…" I started to say more, but I didn't know how to. I was afraid that if I did say more than I would ruin this moment we were having, and let me tell you, this moment was one in a million, and I doubt we'd be having another one so soon.

"You're right."

I smirked at him. "Well, yea."

"Don't get cocky, kid," he shook his head, "I swear, you're actin' more and more like Two-Bit every day."

I pretended to be offended. "Oh, no, don't say that! I might just have to stop talkin' all together if that were true."

"That ain't such a bad idea."

I opened my mouth in disbelieving amusement; were we really joking around with each other? We haven't had many normal conversations since our folks died. He smirked at me then let go of my hand. "I won't try to haul two bundles no more."

"Really?"

He simply nodded, then when microwave dinged I placed his food in front of him. "I heard somethin' pretty interesting about you this morning."

I hated jumping to conclusions, but taking into consideration everything that's happened in the past couple of days I couldn't really control it. I hope I don't stay like this forever, always assuming the worst of everything. "Great. I just love to be considered interesting," I said, trying to sound as offhanded as possible. I didn't know where this was going, but judging by the way Darry wasn't rocketing through the roof had me convinced that this wasn't about me being pregnant.

"Uh-huh," he replied before taking a sip of steaming coffee, not caring for my sarcasm one bit, "apparently there was a date goin' on last night that I had no idea about."

I'm not sure how I looked at the moment, but I'm pretty sure it was reminiscent of a bump on a log. "What are you talkin' about?" Then it clicked and I could feel my face heating up several different shades of red. "Oh."

"Why didn't you say anything about going on a date? Did Soda know?"

"Soda didn't know, I didn't even know. It wasn't supposed to be a date, I mean, it just…sorta happened." My shoulders rose sheepishly. It was the truth.

"So…" He cleared his throat, looking entirely uncomfortable, "are you two…are you and Johnny dating?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"Well, do you want to be dating?"

My mouth opened and closed a few times before I could answer. It's not like I didn't know what I wanted, but it was weird to actually talk about it with someone. Even weirder considering this was Darry. I decided that nodding would be the best thing I could do.

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're too young to date," he muttered, but he wasn't talking to me, more so to himself.

I decided to respond anyway. "I ain't that young."

He gave me a look that said 'are you kidding me?' "You're sixteen, Girlie."

"Right." It's ironic we were talking about me being too young to date; I wonder what he'd think if he knew I was going to be a mother. For a moment the idea of telling him was funny. "And you and Soda were both fourteen when you started dating."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"Be careful."

I could understand where he's coming from, I really could, but I've grown up with boys my whole life (not the best bunch of boys, either) and I know exactly what they want, what they'll try, and how to protect myself, even if I am still a little naïve in some areas. But the boy in question couldn't even say 'Boo!' to a goose, much less be a threat in anyway. "Darry…" I shook my head, finding this whole thing a little bit silly, "it's Johnny."

Darry never did have to work at looking serious. "Right, it's Johnny. So I'm tellin' you again to be careful."

He wasn't trying to protect me, he was warning me. I got it then- I had the power to absolutely destroy Johnny Cade.

Suddenly, I didn't find anything silly anymore.

All the waitresses at the Dingo had to roll thirty bundles of silverware before they were allowed to leave- it kept things moving. If someone was seated at one of your tables and you didn't have any silverware to hand them, then you would be set back a minute or two with a customer, which usually made them angry. When a customer is angry then you don't get tipped very well, or at all, and that's where a waitress gets her money. So Dottie made sure we always had some ready. Even if you had finished rolling your thirty, if you didn't have a table to wait on, then that's what you were expected to be doing. After months of working here I've become a pro. Knife, fork, and then spoon: it's like a mantra.

I was working on number twenty-five, watching a pair of girls at one of the corner booths. "You think they're talkin' about me?"

Molly looked up just in time to see one of the girls sneak a glance at me then turn back to her friend and start whispering. Molly isn't one to beat around the bush. "Probably."

"What am I going to do?"

Molly sighed in an exasperated fashion; she's had to hear me ask the same question at least a million other times, I've pretty much wore it out. She continued rolling as she said, "You know what you should do."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"You're gonna have to stop this, Ponygirl. There's nothing else you can do. You're not gonna be pregnant forever. I know you live with a bunch of clueless boys, but I'm pretty sure they'll notice whenever you suddenly come home with a screaming newborn." I knew she was right, but that didn't make the situation any less scary, or any easier to talk about. I forgot I haven't told her that I plan on leaving soon-she's a mother herself, and I knew she would do what she considered was the right thing and tell Darry. I've had to beg her once to not say anything, to let it all come from me. She shook her head. "I still can't believe you've managed this long without your brothers suspecting anything."

"I'm never home anymore…and neither are they. We all work. No one has time to listen to the rumor mill. When I'm not at work I'm in my room asleep. As far as they're concerned I've just gotten fat."

She gave me a once over. "Yea, you don't really look pregnant. I wouldn't have guessed if I didn't already know."

"Always been small." I shrugged.

"Maybe. But you've gotten pretty good at hiding, too." She stood up to get refills for one of her tables. "Won't be long now that you'll be able to get by with it. You'll get bigger, and rounder, and trust me when I say that a woman in her third trimester can't hide much."

That was truer than what you'd think, went further than appearance. It didn't matter how good I used to be at hiding my emotions, now I couldn't keep anything to myself. My heart was always on my sleeve, and let me tell you, it wasn't voluntary. If someone was being funny, but kind of annoying, usually you could smile and ignore it. Nope. Not anymore. Having secrets was a thing of the past, at least for a few more months.

I watched those girls pay their bill then leave the dinner, and then gathered my silverware to put on a tray under both registers where we keep them. Maggie wasn't gone long. "I've brought you somethin'."

I was surprised. "Really?"

"Yep." She clocked out for break and I did the same. We had forty-five minutes. "Follow me." I did, and she led me to the back where employees could keep their belongings. A big brown grocery bag was shoved in my arms.

"You got me food? Couldn't you just buy me a shake and some fries?" I joked.

"Very funny, smart-ass," she said, but I could tell she was amused. "My little girl lost her first tooth yesterday so I went diggin' through my closet to find her baby book and ended up finding these." I shifted the bag so that it rested in only one of my arms against my hip and looked inside. I pulled out a shirt and couldn't help but notice how big it was. "It's my old maternity clothes. Most of 'em hasn't even been worn but once or twice," she said, smiling at the memory like it was the happiest time of her life. "I didn't work while I was pregnant, so most of the time I just loafed around in my pajamas."

Many times when I was a little girl I would hear my mom and Mrs. Mathews (they were good friends since high school, that's how we've known Two-Bit for so long) talk about how some lady they knew was pregnant, how that lady was "absolutely glowing". I've read that same phrase in books as well, but I could never really picture how a woman that was supposed to be fat and swollen and moody all day long for nine lousy months was considered glowing. Being pregnant myself hasn't helped me understand any better. But that's the only way I can describe the way Molly looked right now. She wasn't looking at me, but I could still see her eyes- they were seeing something I couldn't, some kind of memory-and they held such adoration. Her face had softened and her lips tugged upwards. I've seen my mom look at me and my brother's that way, but no one else, she didn't even look at my dad that way. He had his own look, and we had ours. Now, Molly had it. Would I ever have it?

"Were you happy?"

"Hmm?" I felt bad for interrupting whatever thought she was having. "Happy?"

"Were you…" I held up the light blue blouse I was looking at, "happy?"

She shook her head me and a smirk replaced the small smile on her lips. "Yes, Girlie, I was happy. But it wasn't always that way. I was scared a lot of the time and confused, worried too."

"Oh." I nodded and looked back at the clothes so I wouldn't have to look at her.

"You could be happy, too, ya know. You've got nothing to lose anymore, but there's a whole lot to gain. You're scared, I know, I really do…but you can't keep goin' on like this. It's not about you anymore."

"Having secrets is a thing of the past," I whispered, thinking back to when I watched those girls leaving.

"Exactly."

Molly and I ordered lunch, but I really didn't feel like eating so I just sort of sat there and nibbled at my fries. I didn't replay what's happened the last couple of months in my head, and I didn't think about my brothers, but I did think about my baby. There really was nothing left to do. I may not have been a kid long enough, but I've been acting childish for far too long. It was time to grow up, at least where a few people were concerned.

There were a few minutes left of my break, so I decided to make the most of what ever little bit of determination I had and use it. As I picked up the phone I had only two things on my mind: Molly was right and I love my baby.

The phone rang three times before someone answered. "Hello?"

I knew he'd be at my house. "Hey, Johnny."

"Girlie, everything okay? Ain't you supposed to be working?"

I gulped, and somehow I managed to wrap the phone cord around my fingers so tightly they were becoming numb. "Yea, yea, everything's fine." The air must have swept out of me in one big whoosh. "Listen…do you think you can come down here? I'll buy you lunch."

"Sure. That sounds real nice."

He sounded so happy. I hated what I was about to do to him. "Good. There's…there's something I need to tell you. It's real important, so…so make sure none of the gang comes with you, alright?"

There was a silent pause before he answered. "I'll be down in 20 minutes."

"I'll see you then. I need to go for now, my break's over."

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

I bit my lip then mumbled, "They will be," before hanging up the phone and pretending like I didn't just call Johnny, like he wasn't about to come down here so I can break his heart.

Then I clocked back in. My break was over.

There she is! Sorry it took so long! But I've been SUPER busy. I promise I won't take that long again :]

Please review! I would love your thoughts on the characters.