Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or Mac Arthur's Park.

I will take my life into my hands and I will use it. I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it. I will have the things that I desire. And my passion flows like rivers through the sky.

A picket fence runs around the large stunning home. Purple and blue flowers grow in beds by the porch and crisply trimmed bushes sit beside them. A pool's in the back and there is always fresh lemonade laid out for visitors to drink and gnomes sit along the sides, protecting the garden.

Chris James was a relator slash Politian. He spent most of his time in an office building downtown with other big Whigs and on the side he liked to remodel and sell dream homes. Then to wind himself down, he spent the weekends on the golf court with rich business owners trying to cop a deal and drinking Scotch.

Carolyn James was a homemaker. A good one at that. She made sure her matching twins wore top of the line clothing and had everything available to them to succeed even to a point of living in a spotless home.

Thanks to the maids that is.

She'd make her neighbors come over and embellish in gossip together and talk about how each of their children were doing, each trying to top the other even if lies had to be told. No one would ever know.

The James family was quant.

"Marilyn, do your friends want something to drink? I could get Carol to whip something up for you to eat too," she informed them, slipping on her fur coat. "Don't go near the wine. I mean it this time. Your father needs that."

Marilyn shot her a smile. "We wouldn't dare."

Her mother grinned and winked as she slipped out the door. Marilyn knew her mother needed that wine more than her father. Her father was a Scotch and Jack Daniels man. She did the wine...and anything else that came nearby.

"This radio is a piece of shit," Michael complained.

"Have you seen Frankie?" Marilyn asked, lighting a cigarette. "I wanna go to fat camp and get whatever the hell she did."

Jane grabbed a stick. "Her parents bought her some kind of person to watch what she eats."

"Who knew the girl had boobs under all that fat."

Randy grumbled at the sight of his girlfriend. She was better than this. He snatched the smoking stick from her mouth. "Be nice."

Marilyn eyeballed him, sending him death threat with those big brown eyes of hers. Randy had seen those too many times in his sleep. They were beautiful and luscious in the day; it was at night when you have to watch them. They're knifes in your throat.

He didn't break his stare. That's what she wanted. She fed off of it.

She leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs. "Imbosile."

"What was that?" he barked.

She ignored his attempts to be a threat to her and snagged another cigarette from her purse. "You heard me." She lit it. "First you don't say anything to her at school when she attacked me, then you sit here and bitch at me...you're such a fucking girl."

She took a long drag and peered at him, a small smile creasing on her ruby red lips.

Randy jumped. "I'm a girl? What did you want me to do? I couldn't touch her and you know why."

Michael switched the station and strolled near his sister. "He's right." He took her cigarette and kept it. He smoked it. "You don't need to go near her either. Stay away from that bitch."

"Michael-"

"Oh Jane shut it!" Marilyn snapped. She whipped back to her brother. "Don't tell me what to do. I remember. I'd be damned if I'm going to be walking on eggshells with her."

Michael shared his sister's eyes, that's for sure. When to two stare off, it's a never ending battle and anyone around dies off. They're the ones that get shot with the deflections.

"Just play nice, sis." Michael grinned, another feature he shared. "She is your best friend."

"You wanted to fuck her so bad you couldn't stand it." She drove her face forward and shook it slightly. "Don't even try to deny it."

Jane sat on the sofa, hands folded in lap and head down. They didn't care. It was her job to pick sides not talk.

Michael's smile grew as his sister's did. He had to laugh at that.

"Just cut all ties with her." Randy stood up and put an end to the nonsense. "No eye contact, no talking, no touching, and most importantly: don't go near Dallas Winston."

Michael opened a bottle of his father's Scotch and poured himself, his girl, his sister, and his best friend, a glass. "Calm down. That bastard don't scare me. He thinks he can run this town. Fuck him."

Randy clenched his glass as the others took their sips. "We can't make her mad."

"Why?" Marilyn swirled the liquid around in a circle in her glass. "Still got the hots for her?"

"No." He took a strong sip. "We can't afford for her to get pissed and do something stupid."

Michael poured himself some more; he'd blame it on the maids. "Bitch better not if she knows what's good for her."

Randy took a deep breath and thought for a minute. Sometimes he wondered why he stood here. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to speak to these three. It was like talking to brick walls.

"She knows. We all know that." He sighed. "We just have to make sure she doesn't squeal. We just have to."

"Randy," she breathed out her mouth. "Have you talked to Sam today?"

He rubbed his face. He had dark circles that made him look like a relative of a raccoon. He hadn't slept. "No."

She wrapped herself with her arms. "Maybe you-"

"No," he growled harshly. "He's fine. We all are. You just got to calm yourself. You're a wreck."

He knew he shouldn't point it out; he was one to talk in the first place. There hadn't been a day or night go by that he hadn't been thinking about it. Sam said to push it aside and soon the body would create its own force mechanism that would tune it out and the brain will let the body forget about it.

It was easier said than done.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "How...how are you anyway?"

She shrugged and tightened her grip on herself. "Can't sleep. I've been in Darry's bed for days. He's starting to wonder."

That caught an eyebrow. "You didn't-"

"No."

He scarfed down another chip. He himself had been asked a few questions. His mom wasn't one for turning a shoulder to strange things like the James' and Sam's parents. She was on top of everything.

He'd quieted her down for the most part. It was only a supplement though. She'd be back and he'd need a new line.

"Tell him it's about your parents."

"What?"

He picked up another chip. "He's going to keep asking until you give him a reasonable answer. Tell him you're dreaming about them like your brother and you're just hurting. That's why you're acting strange."

She looked up this time. "Randy, I can't do that. It's not-"

"You have to. I mean it. Tell him."

"But-"

He reached over and gripped her hand lightly. "Danni, you have to trust me. I'm trying to help you. It's just going to get worse if you don't and it's going to eat you up. You gotta let it die. This is going to be the way. Soon you'll be believing your own lies."

She blinked a couple of times. "I need to talk to someone Randy."

"Talk to me."

She pulled away. "I can't! I'm scared and all you care about is covering your ass! I'm sorry, and I'm worried too but I still act like a fucking decent person!"

The word sent him back. She didn't cuss like that. It was more of a slap intended for him than to emphasize her anger. "Danni-"

The tears came. "I need you, Randy. Stop...stop being like Sam. You're not him."

"I'm not-"

"Just leave me alone!" She tightened her arms around her again and rocked herself.

He sighed and eased up out of his seat. He felt her pain. He felt her fear. He was feeling everything she was feeling...he was just handling it better.

He stopped her rocked and held her in his arms, shushing her. "I've got you."

"Don't leave me," she sobbed.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

He took in a deep breath and combed through her hair. "I promise, Danni."

"What about this?" He stepped back out of the bathroom, this time double the colon.

Soda peeked up from his cards and took a glance. "Pone you look fine. Cherry'll love it."

This was about the fifth outfit he'd tried on. He was nervous; we all understood and bit our tongue with each time he didn't believe us. Cherry and him were going to go out tonight. They were going to talk.

Yeah; he was nervous. We all were.

"Got the chips and beer." Steve threw the junk down on the table and cracked open a beer. "Old man's getting on my case. Had to pick up a few extras."

Sodapop chuckled as he grabbed one for himself. "Just don't damage the john like you did last time. Darry'll have your head."

Steve picked up two and chugged back. "Superman don't scare me none."

I picked up the red can of coke on the table and watch Darry slap him upside the head. In a fight between Darry and Steve, my money would always be on Darry. No one, maybe not even Dally, would go there.

"Two-Bit, we gotta watch this crap?" Steve grumbled pointing at the screen. "Since when do you watch Gilligan's Island anyway?"

I sipped up the edges of the can. "You know they're never gonna get off that island."

"Are too!" he whined. "You just wait and see."

"Ponyboy," Darry pounded on the door to the bathroom. "I gotta go, come on."

There was a flush and a big sigh and the door opened.

His eyes went to mine. "This okay?"

"You look like you always do, Pone." I took another sip and sat down. "You're fine."

"Think that's her man." Soda peeled the blinds. "Man look at that beauty Steve."

Steve joined his buddy by the window and gawked at the nice piece of metal sitting in our drive way, drool starting to form in the corners of their mouths.

"She bringin' you home?" Darry asked, shuffling the cards.

Ponyboy looked out the window and nodded. "Suppose so."

Soda patted him on the back and whispered into his ear and ruffled his hair. Pony picked up his jacket and took one last breath before reaching for the door knob.

"Good luck," I said.

He was going to need it.

"Two-Bit, you gonna play or sit on your ass watching that shit all night?" Steve plopped down at the table, grabbing his cards, Soda following close behind.

He picked up his beer and walked over. "Here about that James kid?"

"Michael?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, what a little prick. I shoulda kicked his ass when I had the chance that day. I coulda taken him!"

I smirked. "Two-Bit, he had you pinned against your own car with you begging him not to hurt your pretty face."

"Yeah, I still had 'im! It's all about getting them to think you're down. Then you knock 'em while they're down!"

Kathy entered the room, stealing a beer from the boys. "There isn't no use in fighting with those boys. It's just the same old story ain't it?"

She sat down beside me, grabbing a Good Housekeeping magazine that she brought over.

"Ah, they ain't but a bunch of white ass pansies."

"Yeah well then they need to stay on their side of the tracks instead of getting into our business," Soda mouthed.

Kathy pointed at a picture of a cake, cooing about how pretty it was and how we needed to make it one day. "Our business is theirs now. White paint is smudged up boys."

"That accident?" I asked. "Darry-"

"You know one of us did it." He dealt out a new hand. "I hate to say it...but it was. Ain't no one else is going to do that and not run away from it."

Yeah, I knew.

"Who you think did it, Dar?" Soda asked.

He shrugged. It wasn't his job to tell his opinion. We might not like it. He had an open mind, unlike the rest of us. It doesn't go over too well most of the time. We'd been down that road before.

"That's no reason to blame everyone," Kathy huffed. "I mean my God; it's like the forties up here."

"It's been going on for years."

Our parents, our grandparents, their parents; it's a never ending cycle. It always has been. We'd all heard the stories. We all know the beginnings and the ends of each. History always repeats itself...no one said it'd take a while.

Steve lit a cigarette, took a puff, and breathed out smoke. "Fuckers."

"They're even goin' around sayin' Dal killed that Sam kid!" Two-Bit hollered, folding. "You can't tell me that's some shit right there!"

Kathy turned to me and mouthed, "That true?"

I nodded, turning to get a stare from everyone at the table. "He didn't."

"We know," Soda reasoned. "It's...that not-"

"No it doesn't." I stood up, crunching my drink. "Randy and them are full of shit. Let'em believe what they wanna. I don't care."

I did. Every blood that ran through my veins was just another pulse that was throbbing, another headache coming on, another fist clinched. Fuck Marilyn James.

"They act like they can say whatever they fucking want and it be alright."

"Does Dally know?" Darry asked.

I closed the fridge. "I don't know. He just laughed when I mentioned it to him. It's not a big-"

"It is."

I opened the freezer, took out a carton and began to scope the pink mess into a bowl. "I know."

"It'll be alright," Kathy piped up. "This battle is so old it won't matter much longer. It'll be forgotten. This all needs to stop and it will. For right now, just stay out of the lime light. It'll go easier that way."

She was the voice of reasoning all of us needed. Sometimes, the little angel on your shoulder. She seemed to know everything. She didn't know this though. No one knew how deep our side had cut. It was getting deeper though. This isn't a small thing. We could all feel it.

We just all need to have a beer...

And strawberry ice-cream.

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark. All the sweet, green icing flowing down...Someone left the cake out in the rain. I don't think that I can take it 'cause it took so long to bake it. And I'll never have that recipe again. Oh, no!

A/N: I'm already starting to lose inspiration. I don't know when or if I'll update again.