March 16th, 1966

I dio not own Kathy or any other character used. Pony, Soda, Darry, Two-Bit, Steve, Johnny, and Dallas al belong to S.E Hinton. G.F belongs to not me.

Two-Bit's P.o.V

Ponyboy was always a good ol' kid, despite what the hell Darry says, that he doesn't use his head. Ain't never done anything wrong to me, or any one else. After Dal and Johnny passed on, he sunk down to the lowest low, far worse than any hangover. Started popping pills. It wasn't that he took 12 pills a day at fourteen, but he did start taking sleeping pills.

"Hey, Pone! Whatcha up to now, blonde monkey?" I asked in my usual manner; drunk as hell. Ponyboy looked up at me and scowled. The contempt look on his face reminded me so much of Dally, I did a double take back, not to mention they were both blonde. I quickly apologized. "Golly, kid, sorry. Who crapped in your cornflakes to-MICKEY!" I didn't finish my sentence. After Johnny and Dally passed, Mickey Mouse took it's place as my solace, my way to escape. Ponyboy looked at me, apologizing without actually saying anything to me. I shrugged it off and plopped my wasted ass on the carpet, square in front of the television. Like a routine, I turned the volume all the way up, and, on any other occasion, wouldn't have bothered Ponyboy a damn bit (or two).

"TWO-BIT! TURN THAT SHI-" Ponyboy caught himself mid-curse and sighed. "Stuff down. Please. Unlike you, I'm trying to make purpose of my life." Ponyboy sneered, and quickly went back to whatever the hell he was studying. I turned around to face him, chocolate cake smeared all over my face.

"'Scuse me, wise ass. I come in here every other day and you don't say a damn thing, no matter what you're studyin'. What's ailin' ya, Pone?" I may be a drunk, but I'm a damn good (and nosy) friend.

"Sorry, Two-Bit. Just been really stressed lately." Ponyboy muttered quickly, insincere as ever. I ain't gullible, so I prodded for a more complex answer.

"With? Kath been bein' a bitch?" I asked, cocking my head. Kathy had been a long-time girl of Pony's. They made a cute couple, sure, but they were too much alike to really interest me.

"Kathy ain't a bitch, you drunk smartass." Pony fired back, and that quickly shut me up. Usually, when I insulted any girl he hung out with, girlfriend or not, he'd laugh it off casually, insult one of my blondes, and life would go on. His brash answer was both unexpected and angering. I didn't know what on God's green earth was wrong with him, but I was DAMN determined to find out.

"Oh, sooooorry, are you sexually fusturated or something?! Do you need to get laid? You're acting like a little bitch." I snapped right back.

"Two-Bit, get the hell out."

"Suck it, fourteen year old monkey."

"Do you have any aspirin?" A quick subject change. I looked at him confusedly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Naw, why? Didn't you take some aspirin, like, two hours ago?" I nosed, staring at him.

"Okay, Darry. I took one aspirin exactly two and a half hours ago. My thighs are killing me from the track meet I had last night."

"Pony, yesterday was Tuesday. Didn't you tell the gang that Tuesday's are the one day you don't got track?"

"As if it's any of your damn business." Ponyboy barked, running upstairs and slamming the door in his anger. I heard him banging around in there, so I let it go. It really offended me that he started acting like Dallas, except ruder and worse of a temper. Since then, he's been actin' like Steve and Dal got together, had a child, and the result was Phonyboy (my new name for him).

"Pony, are you being rude again?" Soda yelled from the doorframe, seeing the confused and hurt look on my face. I was wondering what had happened in the past month that would cause Ponyboy to act like he had been.

"No, Two-Bit's getting in my business." Ponyboy yelled back, and I scoffed, gritting my teeth to keep from saying something I might regret, from telling Soda what I really thought of his moody, brash little brother.

Soda sighed and gave me a look of sympathy. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and it was the same thing I was.

What the hell is wrong with Ponyboy?

We both shrugged and began trudging up the stairs, eager to finally get an answer out of him. As we approached the room that he and Soda shared, we sighed and prayed to whatever God that exsisted, that we would get an answer and that Ponyboy would stop acting like a hood rat and start acting like our little Pony again. When we finally kicked down the door, everything that had ever been Ponyboy's was gone, books, everything, and so was he. Soda began to internally deteriorate, and I sank to my knees. Whilst Soda was bawling his eyes, I searched the room for any evidence, any clues that might have lead to why (or how) he ever so suddenly disappeared.

In Ponyboy's place, there was a crudely written note.

Family,

Gone and not coming back. Ever. Don't bring the police into this.

Don't try and follow me, because there is no way you will ever find me.

Move on and forget I ever exsisted.

You should have made the deal.

P.M.C/G.F

I didn't understand why Ponyboy would leave.

He loved his family, his friends, his girl. I didn't understand who "G.F" was, either. Was it an alias or an accompliace?

"T-T-T-Two-Two-B-B-Bit? How we gonna tell Dar? How we gonna tell th-th-th-the r-r-r-rest?!" Soda bawled, hiding his face in his arms and laying on the floor.

I sighed and gently rubbed his shoulder.

"I don't know, Soda. Want a beer to help you think?" I offered, like the good friend I was.

"Two or three. Seven would be damn nice." Soda sniffed, looking up at me all teary-eyed.

"That-a boy!"

Third Person P.O.V

Ponyboy's sneakers pounded the pavement as he ran, his breath coming out raggedly. He had to get out of there, and get out of there now. He checked behind his shoulder to make sure that he hadn't been followed, and the coast came out clear. Although he was exhausted from running, Ponyboy did not stop. He couldn't. If someone found him, found his treasure cove of sleeping pills and muscle relaxers, he would get more than an ass-whooping from Darry, he would be searched. Ponyboy's privacy and independence would be stolen away from him.

"Hey, kid! Where ya headed?" Someone in a nearby alley asked, popping his head out from the protection of a moonlit night. The man's hair was a light brown, scuffed with a shade of grey. The man was getting too old too fast.

"N-n-nowhere. Wh-why?" Ponyboy inquired, backing farther away from the alley. His green-grey eyes darted from side to side, and he kicked the duffel bag behind him, in an effort to protect his precious treasures.

"What's in the bag? Acid? LSD? You a hippie or summen?" The ebony male asked, revealing his form completley. He was a tall, slender man, with chocolate skin, as well as chocolate-colored eyes.

"By God, no. Why? Who are you?" Ponyboy quirked an eyebrow in classic Two-Bit style.

"'Cause I hate hippies. Annoying ass creechures. Ah'm Leonardo, by the way. Leonardo Finch. Now, what's in the bag?" The black man prodded, eyeing it with suspicion and lust. Whatever was in the mysterious satchel, Leonardo wanted it, and wanted it then.

"Pills. Pills, books, and some clothes. I'm getting the hell outta Tulsa." Ponyboy mentally checked his pockets, just to be sure he had his trustworthy switchblade on him.

"Any of it for sale, boy? And whatcha doin' with all 'em pills?"

"None of your business. Now, please, let me get on my way. I'll miss my bus if you don't."

"Then ah guess yer missin' yer bus, ain'tcha?" Leonardo snickered, making a lunge for his duffle bag, but Ponyboy swiftly retracted his switchblade from his pocket and clicked it open, so that just as Leonardo lunged, he got a throatful of a sharp, metal blade.

Oh my God! I just stabbed a man!

Stabbed him.

Killed him.

Oh my God! I gotta get outta here!

Leonardo sputtered out blood and curse words as his breath drained out in crimson fluids. Ponyboy sighed and stabbed the man one last time, to ensure his own safety. Strangely, Ponyboy felt guilty, yet he knew Leonardo deserved it. Deserved every last stab. He tried to take Ponyboy's precious pills! Tried to take what he needed.

Ponyboy nodded to himself, making a mental promise and oath to never let anyone come near him, or his pills. And, if they did, they would suffer the dire consequences, just like Leonardo had. Ponyboy frowned and kicked Leonardo to the side, somehow not enjoying his newfound freedom. In his sanity, Ponyboy almost, just almost, ran back home to Soda and Darry, his tail between his legs, ears folded down.

But he didn't. Instead, Ponyboy kept running.

He would have missed his bus if he hadn't.