Over the craziness of the last few days, the guys didn't really tease me too much. I couldn't really process what the heck had happened. It was like I'd known Red all my life, when I knew nothing about her, except something that would come up occasionally, like favorite foods—hers was cheesecake with meringue and strawberries—or other meaningless things.

Her past was mostly a mystery, and I never bothered to ask. I figured if she didn't feel like sharing it, I shouldn't try to force it out of her.

Occasionally, she would talk about her brother, Cowboy—the guys thought that was a riot, with me being Ponyboy, but I think ponies are better than cows anyway—and how she seemed to talk about him, one minute admiringly and the next scornfully, but it was evident she loved him a lot. Apparently, he'd run away when they were little because their dad had left them, and he got into fights with their mom. Red left two years ago, after her mom's frustration was getting to be too much.

When ever Red talks about that, her eyes get steely, and turn cold—like she's trying not to care. I don't think she knows that Soda and I notice, but we don't let on that we do. Who wants to feel vulnerable?

We talked a lot, just Red and Soda and I. Red and I were sick, and Soda had to stay to watch us. You can't really trust Two-Bit with two sick kids, especially when there's beer and chocolate cake in the fridge, and Mickey Mouse is on the television. Darry worked, Steve too, and Ricky was still the "new guy." So Soda stayed with us, and with not much better to do, he talked to us and we told stories and jokes.

Turns out, for a while Red was in New York City, looking for her brother, and this drunk stumbled out of a bar and proposed to her. Soda and I told her about the time Darry was trying to teach Steve a back-handspring, and the stupid moron kicked Soda in the face. Steve gave Soda a real good shiner on his cheekbone for a while. Red told us about trying to hitch a ride west, and a guy picked her up, a guy who had three little kids in the back. One of the little kids got into a fight with another, and someone back there said a "bad" word, and the dad got the kid out of the car and started switching him. Red had to get out and explain it was her that said the bad word because she accidentally bit herself. Then the guy apologized to the kid and took them all out for ice cream. Soda told her about how we always teased Darry about being Superman, and called him Muscles or something—and Two-Bit making the mistake of saying he was "all brawn and no brain." She seemed to get a kick out of that.

We exchanged a lot of stuff like that, and got a few real good laughs. We usually hung out in my room, and all just sat in the bed together, eating and joking. It seemed like time flew, and despite being sick, I actually was really enjoying myself. Ricky didn't hang around much, but when he did, he liked to lean against the wall and talk with us. I don't actually know where he was staying, but it wasn't usually here.

Red hung around with us for a week, but finally, on Saturday morning, she said, "I need to get out."

Darry, Soda, and I looked up from our breakfast, startled. "What?" we chorused.

Red and I had been feeling better, and sometimes we went out and sat on the porch, but often not for long. It was getting really cold lately, and we weren't allowed to go anywhere because Darry was worried we might get sicker. Even this week, we were hitting record low temperatures, and they were only supposed to get lower. Then again, the weatherman is never right.

Red looked nervous. "Um...yeah. I need to get out of the house. I'm starting to forget the real reason I'm here."

"You mean...leave? Like, forever?" Soda asked, looking stricken. "But you can't—"

"No, no, I could come back, I just...I need to get the score on the city. I've never been here. I'll still be in town, just in a hotel or somewhere."

"Why are you leaving us?" Soda demanded. "Is it because of the food? Because if it is, I can cook better. I'll buy some cookbooks or something, or not let Ponyboy near the kitchen, or—"

Red laughed anxiously. "No, the food is great, Sodapop, when any of you cook it—especially Darry. Seriously, dude, you can cook," Red said, laughing again nervously. Soda looked huffy. "It's just that I'm imposing. I know I've put a dent in your grocery bill, and you had to pay the doctor for me, and I'm going to get out of your hair. I think I'll stay here awhile, and maybe get a job as a waitress or something, and pay you guys back for all you've helped me," she explained desperately, because Soda was banging his head on the table dramatically and I was sitting there stupidly, like it didn't make sense. Darry was leaning back in his seat, listening intently.

Red looked ready to smack someone, and Soda wasn't helping matters, banging his head on the table, and saying with each hit, "You—have—to—be—kidd—ing—me."

Darry looked somewhat indifferent. Why was he so unconcerned? I wish he'd at least make Sodapop stop bouncing his head on the table.

Finally, out of nowhere, Red brandished a thick roll of bills. There had to be at least a hundred bucks there...where did she get all of that money?

"Soda, stop. Hold still and shut your mouth for a minute. Gosh, you act like such a little kid!" she fumed.

Soda straightened immediately, and stared at Red incredulously. "Who's acting?"

"Here's money, this should cover it," she said, tossing the bills onto the table. I opened my mouth to ask where she got it, but she immediately said. "I've had this for a long while, I was saving for situations like this. As for where I got it—number one rule of mine: Ask no questions, I'll tell no lies. Capiche?"

Soda and I stared at Red, then at the money, then Red again.

She glared at us, as if daring us to argue. "Well, I'm going for a walk, I'll be back in an hour, then I'm leaving," and she left.

Soda slumped in his seat. "What just happened?"

Shrugging, I turned to Darry. Surprisingly, he looked as if he were expecting this. He picked up the money and shoved it in jacket pocket.

I looked at him disbelievingly. "You're not actually taking it?"

"I am."

"But—"

"There's something you guys don't seem to understand about her, but I get it and she knows. She's clever, cunning, and can be pretty sneaky. How do you think she's been able to get around so easily, let alone not starve to death?"

Soda and I sat there for a minute, and then it dawned on me. Soda said what I was thinking. "She nicks cash?"

Darry nodded. "Yeah. She nicks from pockets mostly, though."

Silently, Soda and I just sat there in a stunned stupor.

"Well...times are rough, especially for her. This is heaven to her—she doesn't normally have a roof for this long."

I looked at him, confused. "How do you know this stuff?"

Darry leaned back in his seat. "She's usually up when I get home at night. We talk a lot. Let me tell you, Soda," Darry said, as Soda's face hardened. "She's not a bad kid. Not any worse than anyone we know, and not nearly as bad as the Shepards. She's just had too many rough breaks, and had to start nickin' so she could support herself. She's not a bad kid—she has her heart in the right place. Honestly, I'm surprised she's even lasted this long on her own. Red's probably the smartest girl I know. She did what she had to, Sodapop."

"Well, then why did she say she wanted to get a job to pay us back?" I asked.

"Ponyboy, it's the principle of the thing.

Soda put his elbow on the table and rubbed his head. "I know. It's not that, just...I feel bad. No girl should have rough breaks, especially not her, especially not like that."

I sighed. "I've said it before and I'll say it again—things are rough all over."

"Well," Darry said, "One of you better go after her. I have no intention of letting her live in a hotel or somewhere. We might not have much to give, but a bunch of different people already practically live with us, so another ain't gonna hurt us much. Especially not one who deserves it. So who's goin'?"

Soda and I both jumped up.

"Well, even better, both of you go—split up, and you'll find her faster. And Ponyboy?"

"What?" I asked, slipping on my sneakers.

"Take it easy, you're still kinda sick. And don't forget to take a blade, I don't feel like going to the hospital because you didn't think."

"Yeah, yeah, I got mine in my pocket," I said exasperatedly. This time last year, he would've knocked me inside myself for having a switchblade—it would be a good excuse for some Soc to slice me to ribbons—but now I needed one, it was stupid to be without one. Nowadays, it seemed that the Socs were out for the kill.

Just then, I got an idea. I ran to my room, and pulled back the door. Grabbing it, I nearly pulled down the entire dartboard. As I left the house, I slipped the little silver switchblade into my jacket pocket. My brown leather jacket with the yellow sheep's-wool lining, and the great big burn on the back.

Red had left with nothing but a denim jacket, and I wondered how she was managing. I was freezing cold. Soda went towards the lot and field, and I went towards the alleys by the tracks. That was where the Shepard outfit liked to hang, and if she wasn't anywhere around there, maybe they had seen her pass by or something.

Then again, I thought, flipping up the collar on my jacket, they were probably at their houses, out of the cold, like any other sane person would do. If I hadn't been the nice guy I was, I'd be cussing Red out under my breath.

It was almost noon, but the sun was hiding behind the thick black cloud cover, so it could've passed for sometime much later. I could see frost forming on the windows. Record lows, huh? I could believe it. The sidewalk was icy, but not too bad that I slipped a whole ton.

I got ready to give up as I neared the park, but then I saw Red, standing on the edge of the fountain, staring down into it. Her back was to me, but it was unmistakably her—her odd hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and a bunch of loose locks spiraled around her face. There were all sorts of flowers tucked into the braid. How the heck had she managed that? We don't even have flowers around here this time of year.

I wanted to go over to her, but something kept me. Finally I told myself I was being stupid, and just went. My foot crunched onto the park's grass, and the strangest thing happened. A bloody switchblade flashed before my vision. A boy, against the fountain, breathing heavily, his dark eyes fearful, in denial, but then resigned. The water in the fountain infested with clouds of red, reaching into the clear water and assimilating it. Then suddenly, Red's eyes. But they weren't Reds. They didn't have all the flecks, or the thick lashes. They were cold and hard, unfeeling, all-knowing, and past caring...

"Ponyboy? Are you okay?" Red asked, her face etched with concern. Her eyes were just like the ones I just saw, but they weren't so cold, so hateful. Her eyes were bright and curious...but pained. Like they had seen too much, at such a young age.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Oh, okay," Red said. She sounded like she wanted to cry. And she was shivering like a skinned polar bear.

"Hey now," I said, slipping off my jacket despite how cold I was. "Here. You know better than to run off with nothing warm," I said, draping the jacket around her shoulders. It was so big, it could've wrapped around her three times over.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot to bring you along," she teased. I felt my face flush. "Hey now, I was just implying that...well, you know, you always have a fever...You know what I mean!" she finished, frustrated.

"Ah, cork it milady, you're only making it more awkward for him," another voice cut in.

I turned to see Two-Bit jogging towards us, a beer bottle in his hand.

"Aww, shut your mouth."

"Don't get mouthy with me, Pony," he said, jabbing a finger at me. "I prefer my mouth open anyway, I can talk pretty girls into going out with me," he added, winking at Red suggestively.

"Just keep to your blondes, bub," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wow, someone's possessive of their lady."

"She's not my lady!" I shot back.

"Ouch," Red said, pretending to looking hurt.

I rolled my eyes. "Well let's get out of here, this place gives me the creeps."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything.

"All right, where are we gonna go?" Red asked. "I don't want to go home, I need to get a look around town."

"Hmm...I don't know..."

"Wait, I got something," Two-Bit said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his billfold. "Take her so she can get some clothes. Girls need clothes, and all she has it what she's got on."

Red began to protest, but Two-Bit pressed a twenty against her mouth. "No buts. I won this in a poker game, a poker game that I so skillfully cheated in, so I might as well let someone else have use of the money."

"Alright, but only if you tag along," I said. I didn't want to be alone with Red, after this week's incidents.

"I'll only hitch until we get to the lot. Then I'm gonna hang out there, see if I can hunt up some poker with Steve or one of your brothers."

I just shook my head. "Darry's leaving for work soon. And Soda cheats."

Two-Bit just grinned good-naturedly. "Good, between that and giving away the money, I'll be scotch-free."

We walked for a while, Two-Bit and I goofing around a little to make Red laugh. She laughs real easily. She and Two-Bit have the same undefinable, backwards sense of humor, but she seems to find mostly anything funny. It's weird how someone like her, with so much to hurt about, just lives and loves life anyway—at least that's how she makes it seem.

At one point, a tuff green Ford Galaxy passed us and slowed down, but Two-Bit and I slouched and looked mean, so it didn't stop. Red just looked at us funny-like.

"What?" I asked, straightening up.

"Well," she murmured. "It's just weird. You guys are all happy-go-lucky one second, and then..."

"Then we look like we're gonna mug you?" Two-Bit tried jokingly.

"Yeah," Red said. "You look like...hoods. I've known you to actually be pretty easygoing guys, but then you look as bad as the guys on New York's West Side. It's freaky."

"That's the point, babe," Two-Bit said, throwing an arm around her. She looked at it in mock disgust, turning to me and sticking her tongue out, like Eww, now I have herpes. Two-Bit didn't seem to notice, and I couldn't help grinning. Red grinned back.

"You see, looking tough comes in handy. Back there, it might've kept us from getting jumped. Ya gotta scare 'em off."

"I see that now," Red said thoughtfully to the sky.

"Well, there's the lot, and Soda and Stevie, so I'm gonna split. See ya," Two-Bit said, jogging over to them. Soda was supposed to be looking for Red. Well, he's got the attention span of a monkey, so what did I expect?

"Well, the shop's only another two blocks," I said.

"Woo."

We just kept on in thick silence. Finally Red spoke, "Ponyboy. Who named you that?"

"My father. He named Sodapop too."

"What about Darry?"

"I think my mum named him after Dad. Well, he was named after Dad, but mum did the naming."

"Your dad...he sounds like an original guy," Red replied, smiling.

"He was an original guy."

"If you don't mind me asking...what happened to him? And your mum?"

"Auto accident," I said shortly.

"Oh. I'd say I'm sorry, but I know that does nothing." Red was smart. She knew the score.

"You dig okay, you know that?" I asked after a while.

"So do you, Pony," she said, shifting her eyes to me, smiling. "I don't know very many people, but for what it's worth, you're one of my favorites."

I felt my face burning. "Thanks."

As we neared the shop, I handed her the cash. "I'll wait out here, I'm not much for shopping anyway."

Red laughed. "Me either. But I guess I do need some different clothes, these are worn to the limit. I'm worried about shoes really though. Mine have holes in the soles."

"Okay, I'll just be out here. Take your time."

"Bets on ten minutes?"

"Sure," I said, grinning. I knew from Soda that a girl could never shop in ten minutes.

Red went in, and I found a tin-can, so I started kicking it around. After five minutes, though, I got a little antsy. I felt like something was up. I kicked the can onto the street, and went to retrieve it, but then that green Galaxy pulled up, crushing it beneath the tire. Heavy car.

The passenger door popped open, and out stepped a handsomely dressed guy, a little older than me. I recognized him. He was the guy that jumped Red.

He slammed the car door shut, and I happily noticed that his face was painted with bruises still.

"Well what do ya know, we found us some trash," he said to the guy getting out of the driver's side. This guy was tall and kind of chubby, but he was still dressed to a tee.

"You must be pretty hungry to come looking for it," I said, tensing and flicking out my switchblade. "Lord knows you wouldn't be able to get better."

"Watch it, kid, I got another two guys in the backseat," the chubby one said.

"Well then pity the backseat," I replied coolly, checking my reflection in the blade to show I didn't care whether they pounced me or not. My gray-green eyes looked stormy. I looked tough.

The passenger smiled maniacally. "You should. One of those guys is a buddy of yours."

I didn't look up from the knife, but I saw my eyes get large. I tried to get my composure back.

He seemed to notice my unease, because he smiled wider. He tapped on the window. "Hey Dan, bring him out."

I looked up from the knife, watching the car intently. I barely kept a pretense as I gripped the switchblade so tightly that my knuckles hurt, but I didn't care. A guy got out of the back on the other side, and came over to this side and popped the door open. It was in the way, so I couldn't see who was in there, but he grabbed them around the ankles and pulled. I heard a sickening crack as their head hit the pavement, but Dan didn't seem to care. He pulled up onto the sidewalk...Ricky.

Ricky looked like death. He was covered in cuts and bruises—the guy who had punched him was either wearing a lot of heavy rings, or my guess—brass knuckles. Ricky was drenched with blood. There was no way he was alive, but the labored rise and fall of his chest argued that.

Right then, as if he had read my thoughts, Dan pulled a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket, grinning triumphantly. He shoved them into his back pocket.

I was sick, and enraged. I didn't know Ricky well, but I knew he was a good guy, and didn't deserve anything bad, especially not this. I felt like I wanted to throw up.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had my blade pressed against Dan's neck, and blood beaded along it as he began to cough. "What are you gonna do, grease?" he gagged. "Kill me?"

"No," I said. "But I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."

I felt cold, sharp metal against the side of my face. Behind me, the fat one growled, "And your friends are gonna wish you was alive."

The one from the passenger seat pushed me away from Dan, and slugged me, hard, while the one behind me held me there. I gasped, swearing between hits, and fought to get away.

What happened next seemed to move in slow-motion. Dan's fist surged towards me again, and I braced myself, but then he fell sideways, a different fist connected to his face. Time caught up, and Red stumbled forward with the force of the punch.

She gazed at her hand in awe. "I've got to get me some of these."

"Here," she said, tossing me the other brass knuckles. Her own fingers gleamed bronze.

I did what she implied, sliding them on. They were kind of heavy, but not any more than I expected. Dan was on the ground, cursing and holding his face.

The chubby guy grabbed me, and Red punched him with her unclad fist, her eyes fiery.

I looked at her pleadingly. I can't use these!

She seemed to plead back for a moment, but then the other guy came up behind her, and I punched him, hard. His face began to bleed, and he struck back, but I caught his fist, and hit with my opposite one. Red topped it off with a kick to his groin. He fell to his knees, then toppled back.

Dan stumbled towards us. "I'm going to kill you," he said, still holding his face, his eyes burning with hatred. I don't know why, but I just stood there and let him come at me. I didn't want to hurt him, even after the things he'd done to us. It wasn't right. I hate fighting. I hate fighting.

He slugged me, then kneed me in the stomach. Gasping, I doubled over, his elbow came down on my neck, and then he gave me an uppercut. I fell backwards, and he was standing over me, his eyes gleaming victoriously.

At that moment, I was completely at his mercy. He could've killed me right there. I was scared stiff. I knew he was too hateful right then to just leave me there to bleed to death—and I knew I would. I could taste the blood through my teeth, and the rusty metallic taste made me sick.

He did this to me, I thought absently. I'm going to die here.

No. No, you're not. Do something. Don't just lie there. Finish this.

So I did something. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, and whispered into his ear, "You're going to regret ever laying eyes on her," and I punched him, in the nose, and was satisfied to hear the crack as my fist made contact.

I stood up slowly, and stars danced in my vision. My head ached and I tasted blood, and I felt my face cut up. Red was leaning against the wall of the building, her face pale and a bruise darkening the skin around her collarbone. She wasn't cut up too badly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, stumbling over to her.

"I'm fine," she said. "They aren't, though."

I followed her gesture, and saw all three of the guys out cold on the ground. Ricky was sprawled on the sidewalk, and he wasn't looking any better.

"Well, ain't this swell?" I asked bitterly. "Three half-dead Socs, a mostly dead buddy, and a Galaxy."

"Yes," Red said, her stormy eyes suddenly gleaming. "Three half-dead Socs and a Galaxy." Red looked at me, a new interest in her eyes. "It would be awfully hard to carry Ricky home, about three blocks away, and it would be so much easier to do it...in our new Ford."

I looked at her, stunned. "You're not suggesting..."

"No, I'm not suggestin', I'm doin'," Red said, going over to the chubby driver and emptying his pockets. "Ah," she added delightedly, holding up a keyring. "Here we go."

Red shoved the key into her pocket, and went over to Ricky, grabbing him under the armpits. "Get his legs and help me put him back in." With some trouble, we eased him back into the car. The Socs didn't stir. My eyes fell upon Dan and I felt bad.

Red saw me staring at him, and said, "Don't feel bad. They had it coming. And I settled my score with old Mikey there," she pointed to the one who had jumped her. "Now he can stay inside for a week." I remained silent.

I had to say though, I definitely didn't feel bad about taking their car. They'd just buy a new one. Everything was replaceable to a Soc. They wouldn't come looking for it, not after the belting we gave them, and I doubt they'd come back to the East Side at all, anytime soon.

Red retrieved her shopping bags, only two, and a shoebox, and stowed them in the trunk. She wrinkled her nose as she slammed it shut.

"What?" I asked. I was still a little light.

"There's about six cases of booze back there. Hope we don't get pulled over by the cops or nothin'. You wanna drive?"

I shook my head. "I'll pass." I was having trouble focusing my vision, and my head hurt like the dickens.

"Alright, hope you don't mind high speeds then," Red replied, sliding into the driver's seat. I opened the door, and sat in the passenger seat, slumping. I hurt and smarted everywhere.

"Get ready," she said, starting up the car. Man, was this ever a tuff car. Red's foot pressed into the gas, and we shot off.