Red's POV

As soon as I heard a voice, I turned to it, wielding the weapon I had so masterfully crafted—a piece of glass, with medical tape on one end as a grip. Pretty clever, I thought.

The person on the other end of my shard held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said in a somewhat calm voice. I could tell I'd given him a good scare though; a calm voice wouldn't have shook that much.

"What do you want? I don't mind cutting your week into nine days, bub," I replied, jabbing the shard towards his face.

He jerked back, and when he spoke this time, there was no pretense of calamity in his voice. "I was j-just wondering—wondering if you n-needed to b-be walked home."

I looked at him suspiciously, saying nothing.

He laughed nervously. "I'll—I'll take that as a no. Is there anywhere you need to go?"

I lowered my glass "knife" slowly. "Yeah. Tulsa."

"Come again?"

"I need to go to Tulsa," I said slowly. "I need to find some people there."

"Isn't that a bit—"

I held up the glass again. "Tulsa or get the hell outta my way."

He gulped. "Well, I can't just leave a pretty girl alone in the street. Tulsa it is," he laughed nervously.

I beamed. "Great."

I was so glad to get out of that car. It smelled like a place someone used for all their bodily functions, which you can probably guess wasn't a pleasant smell. We had parked in a lot next to a gas station called the DX, and left.

"So, uh...where do you need to be?" He asked as we walked.

"The east side."

He looked puzzled. "But that's supposedly the bad side of the city."

I nodded. "I know. But that's where my brother supposedly lived, so I'm going to find him."

"You said 'lived'."

"That's because I'll be surprised if his stupidity didn't kill him, or end him up in prison."

"You don't seem too keen on him."

I sighed. "Well, he's actually really smart. Too smart for his own good. And he likes to show it off, by letting everyone know he's smart enough to be stupid and get away with it.

"Why did he leave?"

"He and Mother didn't get along. It's complicated."

"Oh. You don't act like a lady, you know that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "When did I ever claim I was a lady?"

He smiled to himself. "Never, I guess. I've just never met a girl who carries a homemade blade."

"It's not homemade. I made it in an alley good and proper."

He grinned. "Touché."

We walked for a long while, until the surrounding neighborhood looked particularly shabby and beaten around, like an old tire that someone had left in the elements for a long time. A shady-looking lady stood on the opposite street corner, wearing a skimpy outfit and watching us with her eyes narrowed.

"This is no place for dumb kids like you!" she shouted over.

"Good," I muttered. "This is where my brother will be then."

Not long after that, the ugliest-colored, like someone puked and threw seaweed into a blender, car pulled up. Two guys got out, and I could remember instantly hating them. They were obviously spoiled, filthy rich kids that had more time than they knew what to do with, so they decided to do their worst to people like us. They had stopped right in the middle of the street, probably just to show everyone around them how much they didn't care.

The guys started coming towards us, and we stopped walking.

"Well lookee here, Mikey. Looks like we got ourselves a pretty little girl. Too bad she's got grease stuck to her."

I looked down at my jacket before I realized they were talking about the guy I with. I never really paid attention, but I realized the guy I'd been hanging out with for several days was a greaser. His dark brown hair was slicked back, and he wore a leather jacket and always had a cigarette. He was a hood. Then it occurred to me then that I had never bothered to learn his name. Oops.

"Well we could do something about that," Mikey said slyly, grinning. "Say girly, if you come with us, we won't kill your friend here."

"Leave her alone." my guy said.

"Or what, grease? You gonna change our oil by wringing your hair?" the other one asked. They laughed like it was a good joke.

"Stop it! Leave us alone!" I said contemptuously. I didn't feel like dealing with this. I didn't feel too hot, I kept coughing and shivering like a skinned polar bear.

"Oh, shut your mouth, you dumb broad."

"Get lost!"

Mikey stopped laughing. "Well, we can play like that," he mused, flicking out a switchblade. It had to be at least six inches.

For the first time in a long time, I was afraid. I was so scared it didn't even occur to me to get my shard of glass, but then again, much good it would have done. I looked around to see if there was someone, anyone, who could help us. That's when I spotted a guy about four houses down, smoking and looking at us with a vaguely alarmed expression, but it seemed like he didn't want to get involved. We made eye contact, and at that moment, I pleaded like a dog outside in a thunderstorm. He didn't seem to notice, he had looked away.

So I went out on a limb. "Help! Help us, please!"

Mikey surged towards me. "I said shut—up!" and tried to slash at my face, but I backed away. The blade whisked across my torso, and I remember vaguely thinking that I had just been knifed, but I didn't have time to worry as I fell in front of their car, hitting my head on the cracked concrete of the street. I registered voices nearby, and I flopped onto my back to try to see what was going on.

Now instead of two guys, there were six. But the new guys were beating up the other ones. One was about my age, with reddish-brown hair that was slicked back, and he was slight but had a good build. He jumped onto Mikey's back, and boy did he look angry. Mikey's face got purple, and another guy, this one had blonde hair that was greased back, started beating the tar of Mikey. I saw yet another guy start to beat up Mikey's friend, and his hair was funny; dark brown, and it kicked out in the front, but you could tell he didn't grease it, and with a big cowlick in the back. He was really muscular, and he reminded me of a football player I had seen somewhere.

The football player knocked his guy down in three hits, but Mikey wouldn't break. Finally my friend was probably getting tired of him, and just pushed the blonde aside and kicked Mikey real hard, right where it hurts. His cheeks puffed out and he doubled, but then he fell backward, right onto the small one, and I heard a big crack! And the blonde rushed over, along with the football player, who heaved the guy off. The two seemed to debate for a minute, before the footballer picked up the kid; his eyes rolled back into his head.

The blonde came over to me, and gave me a grin like a million dollars. Gosh, was he gorgeous, like a movie star. His eyes were a pretty hazel, with caramel and green-colored flecks, almost like gold. They reminded me of a sunset. "C'mon, princess," he said smoothly, lifting me up with ease. "What's your name?"

"Red," I said thickly.

"I wanted your name, not the color of your blood, I can see that very obviously. You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

"My name is the color of my blood."

"Alright, nice to meet you, The-Color-of-My-Blood," he replied brightly with a smile, taking me into a house. He set me down on the couch.

"Woss that?" yet another guy asked, coming in eating a sandwich. "You pick up a broad?"

"Yeah, her name is The-Color-of-My-Blood."

"No weirder than Ponyboy or Sodapop," he shrugged, as the footballer passed us with the other kid, whose tongue was lolling out of his mouth.

He must have been Blondie's brother. Even though their hair were different colors and Blondie's face was a little longer, and his eyes looked mischievous, they looked alike, had the same movie star air about their features.

"Or any weirder than Two-Bit," the blonde replied pointedly, interrupting my thoughts.

He came back with a wet wash towel, and pressed it to my side.

"Glory, li'l lady, you sure got cut good."

"Uh-huh," I said. Stars began to cut into my vision, and I passed out.

I face planted into the floor. Again. I heard someone groan from the kitchen.

"There she goes again," Muscles said, (which is what I'd taken to calling the football player) lifting me up from the floor. I whimpered as he grabbed me around the waist, irritating my gash.

I heard footsteps rush to us. "Be careful, you're grabbin' her right where she got that nasty cut!" I heard Blondie say, pulling me out of the other one's grip. I relaxed as he cradled me in his arms. "You got to be careful with girls, Darry."

"I know!" Muscles, whose name was apparently Darry, responded irately. "I've been around plenty of girls in my day, more than you, even if you do look like Zeus's kid brother."

"Alright, Zeus, I'll be Hades, and that's what you're gonna get if you don't help me out a little. Grab her blankets, I got an idea."

We began moving, and I could smell Blondie's cologne as he shifted me more securely in his arms. He smelled like gasoline and shave lotion and lavender. Odd combination, but it smelled nice.

"Where are you taking her?" Darry asked.

"Pony's room." Pony's room? Was that a stable? Was I going to be put in a stall? I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to hay. I was going to pipe up, but realized I didn't have the energy. I was still asleep...like halfway in, halfway out. Shoot, I hated when this happened. I had to wait until I fell completely asleep, because I couldn't wake up from this if someone held a gun to my head. I always get nervous when I'm like this.

"Darry, she just got all stiff."

"Probably a bad dream."

He stopped. "I don't think so. Red? Yoohoo? Anybody there?" He pressed a hand to my forehead. It was hot. "Glory, she's colder than I thought. You don't think she's got hypothermia?"

"She might. She's awful pale."

"Well, lookee at this then. Feels like Poseidon's got a fever."

"Poseidon?"

"Well you're Zeus and I'm Hades, your kid brother, so he can be Poseidon, my kid brother."

"I'm pretty sure Hades was the kid. Or Zeus."

"Or Poseidon. Whatever," he said as I felt myself being lowered onto a bed. I felt an arm drop over my neck, hot as the sun; it felt nice. There was something warm next to me, and without meaning to I pressed up against it, shivering. It felt really nice.

"Geez, Sodapop, did you have to put his arm over her? Now look."

"Calm down," Sodapop, who was Blondie, said gruffly. "She's just getting warm."

I didn't realize I was pressed up against a person, or a boy at that. When I'm in this awake-sleep thing, I don't think. I don't really know what's going on, and I don't remember it after, ever.

I dreamed of them. That gang, ransacking our house, looking for our father. They were the fathers of grease, but so much worse, they were like hoods without a single moral in the world, demons, their only purpose: to cause utter grief and chaos. They were the embodiment of everything Pandora let out of her box. They were so greasy they slid when they walked.

This is how I saw them, when they came around our home, when I was only a kid, a four year old. My brother's birthday was the next day; he was going to be seven. Mom thought this was his fault, the gang coming by and destroying our home and possessions, looking for our father. My father had left a long time ago, he wasn't hiding here. He had something they wanted, but no one knew what it was but for them and him.

She was deathly sick, she couldn't tell reality from fantasy, and she thought that my big brother had lured the men here, and she would beat him, furiously, and he would only grit his teeth, he never cried or even whimpered.

He was tired of her blaming him, and I remember him telling me, "Red, I've got to do something. She's getting to be too much. I can't take the beating any longer. I've either got to kill her or leave. And I can't kill my ma. You know I couldn't do that."

Can I come with you?

"No, you can't come. You need to stay and take care of Ma. She wouldn't lay a finger on you."

But I don't want to be without you.

"Red, it's for the best. I'm not gonna tell you when I'm leaving, you might try to follow me. You can't handle that. I know you'd never find me, because I'm going to go as far as I can. Even if I have to break the law to do it."

Do you have what they're looking for? Mom says you do...

"Yeah, I have it. But I'm gonna hide it."

Why do they want it?

"Not they. He. He's just using them because he's the leader of a gang, and things get done faster with more hands. Why does he want it? I don't know. I have a notion, but I don't know for sure. I just have to make sure they don't get it. Dad said so. I'm sore at Dad for leaving us, but he said not to give it up no matter what. And if he's—if he's—" he choked up, and I wrapped my arms around him.

But what will you do once you're gone? Who's gonna take care of you?

He smiled ruefully. "I'll take care of me. Or I might...nothing. I'll be okay though."

Silence. Alright, I trust you. I love you more than anyone in the whole world.

"I love you too, Red. You're the best kid sister a guy could ask for."

And he left that night. I thought he would wait a week or two, but he left that night. On the nightstand, he had left a letter, and a beautiful necklace, a sphere of diamond holding a small flower in the middle, one that the cuts on the diamond gave many faces. It rested perfectly in the hollow of my throat, and I loved it.

The letter read, I'm sorry I had to leave, I promise I'm already a hundred miles away at least, so don't try to follow me. The necklace is for you, a family heirloom (an heirloom, pronounced air-loom, is something that a family keeps for a while. You're four, I didn't know if you'd know that word, but I taught you pretty well, so you probably did) that Dad passed on to me—it belonged to his mother—to give to you when you were old enough. You probably aren't old enough, but this is the only chance I'll have to give it to you, so I had to do it now. I'm so sorry. But when you see the diamond, remember me. You're the little daisy in the middle, and I'm the diamond. If you ever get in trouble, look at it and remember that I was there to protect you, and I still will, even if it's not in ways you can see. I'm sorry for leaving you. I had to do it to protect you, and protect me. That gang will come over. Tell them that I left for good, and make sure you bawl when you say it. If they ask where, say Florida, that we have family there, even though we don't. I'm not actually going there either, so don't get ideas on trying to follow me there. Too humid for me—I'd rather drink water than breathe it, thanks very much. I love you. Stay safe, don't do anything stupid. I love you.

Love, Cowboy

Cowboy was the nickname Dad had affectionately given him. I remembered Dad so well, his golden eyes and love for the rodeo held outside the nearby little Pennsylvanian town, New Wilmington. I think he loved it almost more than he loved Ma. He was really young when he married Ma, only sixteen. They were the same age when they got married, and had my brother only a year later.

When she found out my brother left, Mother wasn't fazed. She was glad. She didn't care that her son was gone for forever. That's when I left too. I couldn't bear her by myself. She began to take out her frustration on me. If my brother came back, I would've stayed, but I knew he wouldn't come back. It was painfully obvious, when he wanted to leave and not come back, he would. I knew he didn't want to come back. He always got what he wanted.

When I woke up, the younger boy whose tongue lolled out of his mouth was standing in front of me, his shirt off and his back turned. I couldn't help admiring how muscled he was for such a slight kid, but there were odd patches of skin on his back that were paler than the rest of skin, and then it occurred to me—these were scars. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were scars from burns. I wonder how he got them, how he got burned that badly...

He turned around then, and I quickly pretended to be asleep. I could feel his eyes on me, and I had to try to keep from fidgeting. I heard him sigh in...what? He sighed funny-like... I heard him start to leave the room, with crinkles of plastic, and I thought he was gone, and began to open my eyes. Suddenly he was there again, falling over a pile of books.

What I did next, I didn't even think of, it just happened. I bolted upright, pulling my glass shard from only Lord knows where and shoving it towards him. For a moment, all he did was stare at me with his mouth open, and I looked into his eyes and lost focus a little.

His eyes looked like his brother, Sodapop's, in a weird way, but instead of a light brown with green, gray, and blue flecks, it was like someone had just shuffled the colors. This boy's eyes were gray, but with a scattering of blue and green flecks, mostly green, to the point you actually couldn't decided if his eyes were really green or gray.

He must have lost his balance, because he fell back into the wall. After he caught himself, he raised his hands in surrender. "Hey! I need a little help!"

Footsteps rushed in, and Blondie—I mean Sodapop—came through the doorway. He looked at me, then moved his eyes to his brother. The kid shrugged, and mouthed something at his brother. Don't ask me what though, I don't read lips.

Sodapop must have understood it, because he nodded, then turned to me with his hands up. "Calm down, this is my brother, Ponyboy. He's an okay kid, I promise." Suddenly he grinned like a movie star. "Probably better than the rest of us, honestly. He's a real sweet kid, just ease up, he won't lay a finger on you."

My eyes darted between them. The kid looked scared out of his wits, and Sodapop tried to look serious, but it seemed like he was trying not to laugh at the situation. They were both a lot more muscled than the boys where I came from, and even with my glass knife, I don't think I'd hold them off long. Besides, they both seemed to want to help, not hurt, and a girl can't deny that of two good-looking guys.

Ponyboy chuckled as if he could read my mind.

"I don't know her n—" Sodapop began, but I instantly said, "I'm Red." Sodapop raised an eyebrow and grinned, and I couldn't help smiling back. He really was the best-looking guy I had ever seen, unless his little brother was in the equation. They both looked like movie-stars.

Suddenly Sodapop turned to his brother and said, "What's up?"

I looked at Ponyboy, and he was shaking his head, his face as red a beet.

"Alright," Sodapop said, shrugging.

Ponyboy turned to me nervously and asked, "So...are you, uh, hungry?"

Wow, boys can sure be cute when they're nervous. I nodded, smiling. "Definitely. I haven't eaten in...a while." When was the last time I had eaten? I didn't even remember.

Sodapop piped up, "Alright, I just made bacon and eggs with cheese, and we have chocolate milk and cake, too," he added, grinning.

Ponyboy looked incredulous. "Bacon? Where did you get bacon?"

I ignored that, and smiled. "I think I'll pass on the cake, but the rest sounds great." I began to get out of bed, but my gash screamed at me, and my body was all stiff. Ponyboy and Sodapop practically teleported to my side, their faces heavy with concern.

"No. I'm okay. I'm okay." I wasn't okay. It hurt like hell, and I don't say that unless it really hurt, I don't use bad language like that. Ponyboy didn't seem to believe me one bit. He held out a hand to help me up, and I couldn't help looking at him in admiration. I took it, and he hoisted me up easy-as-pie.

"Thanks," I said, my face hot.

"No problem," he said shyly, smiling. Seriously, why are nervous guys so attractive?

I tried to move, but between the mess and being so dizzy, my mind was like, nope. Ponyboy ended up carrying me. He was strong, he lifted me like nothing, and he was so surprised he almost dropped me. He swung me a little as he carried me, like rocking a baby to sleep, and it was weird for me because I fit so well in arms. He smelled nice, like lavender and cinnamon. He gently set me down in a chair in the kitchen, and I almost felt sad that he wasn't swinging me around anymore. It was like a small-scale fun-ride, even if it had made me a little woozy. Or that might've been him that did that. He went over to the cupboard to get utensils, and I glanced at the food. It looked delicious.

"You didn't have to carry me, you know," I piped up.

He didn't move for a moment, his hand hovering with a knife. Nice. Finally, he shrugged. "Wasn't a problem. The civil thing to do."

I couldn't help it then, but I laughed coldly. "Civil. Haven't heard that word applied in a long time."

He tensed, but said nothing.

Soda reappeared. "Oy, Ponyboy!" he grinned. I don't know why, but when he said the name it hit a nerve. I remembered Cowboy... "Guess I don't need you to tell you to set the plates." He turned to me. "Do you need to wash up? I could get you a towel."

I drummed my fingers on the table. I don't even remember the last time I had a hot shower. I nodded. "That would be great." He came back a minute later, tossing me a towel that I almost dropped. "Thanks. Um...what about—"

"A change of clothes?" Muscles cut in, coming to the table and buttoning up his shirt. Holy hot tamales. He lived up to the nickname I had given him. He had abdominal muscles you could use as a washboard. "You could borrow some stuff from us," he said. "And if someone does laundry today, we can wash your clothing.

Ponyboy began to protest, but Darry shushed him. Um...awkward. I coughed and went to the bathroom. A towel and change of clothes was on the counter. The clothes were too big, but I figured I could just tuck stuff in. I took off my necklace and set it on the counter, and undressed, throwing my dirty clothes into a hamper under the sink. After that I just showered quickly, making sure to scrub the daylights out of my skin and get rid of an eternity's worth of grime.

I got out, dried off, and put on the new clothes, and I don't know how, but they had girl underwear. I decided to just not think about why that was, and dressed. The shirt was a dark midnight blue t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. It would have fit tightly on a guy like Darry, but practically drowned me. I tucked it into the pants, and they were still so loose that I had to put my belt on them. The clothes smelled like lavender and cinnamon, with just a hint of gasoline and cedar, so I had no clue whose they were.

I heard a ruckus of guys so I didn't come out until they left, then continued my day, which was painful and weird and new to me. At one point, Ponyboy left to go get wood, and I chatted with Two-Bit for a while, who told me about the town and the Socs (for which he had many, many, colorful adjectives).

Finally I sort of dozed off while talking to him, I must really have been tired. I began having a nightmare, but I can't remember now what it was about, only that it was horrible.

I bolted upright, and I was freezing cold and scared. Ponyboy was next to me, and his face looked alarmed. I didn't think after that, just grabbed him and started crying into him, getting his shirt completely soaked. For a while he didn't move and was as stiff as a board, but I didn't care, he was warm and real and there. Finally, he put his arms around me, and I was wrapped in his lavender smell, and he was talking softly, but I don't think he realized it, he seemed to be in a daze. I talked and he talked and we didn't seem to hear ourselves or each other. Occasionally he rubbed my back, and eventually I stopped crying, and went into one of my half-sleeps, but this time I was okay with being half-asleep. I was scared to go completely asleep for fear that I'd have another nightmare, and didn't want the tensity of being awake.

I knew Two-Bit was in the doorway at one point, he muttered something about Ponyboy heading towards being a real hustler. I don't know how much time we spent tangled there like that, but at one point Ponyboy had just lifted me into his lap and he held me there. I felt someone lift me up after a while, and I wanted to protest but I was stuck. I felt cold and weak now, but they set me back down on the bed, and I could feel the heat waves pulsing off of Ponyboy. I felt weight on the other side of the bed, and Sodapop's voice say, "Go to sleep Pony, you've got a fever."

Pony didn't respond, but Sodapop pulled the covers over us and I was pressed against him. I heard several guys' voices, and they talked about Ponyboy being sick and the way he looked at me, which I didn't quite get, and pretty girls. I wrapped my arm around Ponyboy unconsciously, and fell asleep like that.