I woke up the next morning early. Early as in, three in the morning before the sun was out. My face was throbbing painfully and I wanted to die right then and there. Ponyboy was pressed up against me, his auburn hair laying over his forehead and some of the pillow. I breifly remembered seeing Ponyboy with short bleach-blond hair a few times the year prior during the fall. I could still see the damage the bleach did to his hair in a few places. The moonlight made it easy to se, as it was shining in through the window violently, almost burning me. I got out of the bed quickly and yanked the curtains shut, grumbling to myself about how the moon is an even bigger asshole than the sun. I crawled back into bed and as I felt myself begin to drift off, a weight pressed against me. I peeked an eye open, seeing a mop of auburn hair against me, almost laying on my chest. Chuckling quietly to myself, I closed my eyes and allowed the sweet grasp of sleep take hold of me once more.

A few hours later I awoke to screaming. Not scared or even angry screaming, but playful screaming. In the moment however, it still scared the crap out of me. Upon investigation of the sound, I simply found the youngest Curtis brothers wrestling in the living room. Ponyboy was pinned below his blond brother who sat grinning down at him. It was truly a sight. Maybe not a sight worth getting out of bed for, but a sight nonetheless. Steve was on the recliner looking annoyed while rusty-headed Two-Bit lied on the couch, still asleep and snoring loudly.

"Say uncle!" Soda exclaimed, holding his little brother's wrists above his head. He was sitting on Ponyboy's abdomen, leaning forward to hold the younger boy's arms. The grin on his face was polarizing.

"No!" Ponyboy shouted back between snorts. I thought then that Ponyboy snorts a lot.

"You're gonna say it one way or another kid brother. STEVE! Steve come here and get his legs."

Pony shrieked loudly. "NO! No! Fine I'll say it."

Sodapop smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Say what, dear brother?"

With a pout, the littlest Curtis spat out, "Uncle."

A victorious grin spread across the blond's face as he stood up, freeing his little brother.

That night at the lot, Ponyboy had made it seem like their little gang was totally erupted apart and as if everyone in the gang was miserable. They didn't seem unhappy to me, though. In fact, their gang seemed pretty homey and happy to me. Well, maybe not Steve Randle, but the rest of them seemed awful happy.

I was itching for a cigarette something awful. Soda noticed me in the doorway as he moved to sit down on the couch, simply offering me a small wave and a smile. He seemed like the best brother out of the three. Not intimidating, like Darrel, or hard to read, like Ponyboy.

"Do you want any breakfast?" Sodapop asked, smoothing out his DX uniform shirt. I shook my head. My stomach felt full and more than anything I just wanted a smoke and a drink. And maybe a girl, too. "Well, Steve and I have got to get leavin' for work soon. You need a ride anywhere?" I shook my head once again.

"Naw, I'm just gonna walk."

"Glory, Kid. You're gonna walk all the way home on an empty stomach?" Steve chirped in, an irritated expression sprawled across his features. I never could understand why the Curtis boys hung around Steve. Or why anyone hung around him. He's never been very good company. He ain't even attractive, not with his eyes all sunken in and his lips always curved into their permanent scowl.

"Sure am," I quipped, "I like walking. What's it to you, Randle?"

The curly-headed boy shrugged. "I couldn't care less about what you do, Douglas. We gotta go, Soda, cmon." In just a few moments, the front door was slamming closed and I was left alone with the youngest of the three Curtis'.

"What time is it?" I asked, stretching. My back cracked with a series of sickening pops.

"Seven. You coming to school today?"

"Naw. I think I'm just gonna head over to Buck's. Get into some trouble. Ya dig?"

Pony nodded, running a hand through his hair. I noticed then that he hadn't greased it that day. Opening my mouth, I began to ask why he hadn't, but before I could speak the front door slammed open. None other than Two-Bit Matthews entered, smiling wide and cigarette in hand.

"Hey Bryon my boy," he greeted, "Come on Pone, we gotta get goin unless ya wanna be late."

Ponyboy nodded and waved at me. "Bye Bryon." He said in a soft voice before disappearing out the door. I watched as the two greasers got into Two-Bit's beat up old truck, and then just a few seconds later were speeding off toward the school.

I hung around the Curtis home for about an hour after they left, mostly just watching TV. Eventually, though, I got bored and took off for Buck's. It was early, but I knew it'd be open. Buck's is basically always open. The walk was long and boring. It was cold, but that's to be expected in November.

When I arrived at Buck's, Hank was working the door. He looked just as grubby as he normally does, but he didn't give me any trouble. I was a regular there after all. When you don't care about anything, including yourself or your own well-being, drinking, smoking and drugs become a part of regular life. And it's easy to find all those things in a half hour trip to Buck's.

Within two hours I was upstairs in a bedroom, a girl in my bed. With four beers in my system and the smoke of a pack of cigarettes in lungs, I was itching for a girl. So I found a group of greasy gals and picked one up. She wasn't any prize, she wasn't even the prize of the bunch, but she was easy and willing and that was al that mattered to me.

She had told me her name when I'd started trying to pick her up, but I couldn't quite remember it. I think it was something like Darla or Destiny or Darling. Something with a D. Anyway, her hair was was short and black– just like Angela's– and she had it curled up around her round face in these big intricate swirls. Her skin was a dark tan, like chocolate milk. She had big brown-black eyes and thick black eyelashes, but they just gave her a puppy-dog look instead of making her seem more feminine. Her chest was small and so were her hips, heck I probably had wider hips than she did. She dressed like a regular grease girl though: a skirt so short it hardly seemed weather appropriate, a tight T-shirt, tall high heels and a leather jacket that clearly belonged to a boyfriend of hers. Whether it was an exes, or a current boyfriend, I didn't care.

"Bryon," she whined out, pulling at the bottom of my shirt impatiently. She looked up at me and I took in the features of her face more clearly.

Her nose was small, slightly upturned and covered in freckles. She didn't have much any jawline to speak of, or cheek bones. For a girl with such a skinny body she sure did have a round face. Her lips were plump, painted red with thick coats of lipstick which was smeared down her chin.

"Come here," her voice was a whisper as she pulled me into the be, "what's got you so distracted? Hmm?"

I muttered a quiet "Nothing" before attacking her lips with mine. My mind was swimming from the beers, but I figured I'd be fine. After all, this wasn't my first rodeo.

I woke up a few hours later, stripped of any decency. Whatever-her-name-is was passed out beside me, in the same situation as me. Her lipstick was everywhere but her lips, and kiss-marks littered my body. Her bony arm had itself wrapped around abdomen, just above my navel. She was freezing cold, making it an incredibly uncomfortable situation to be in. I pondered on how I could possibly get away without waking her up. However, I guess my body had other plans since I knocked out again before I could think of anything.