There was a war that started in 1955 called the Vietnam War. It had been going on for ten years by the time that Sodapop turned eighteen. That year also happened to be a draft year. Every able-bodied male who was a citizen of the United States and eighteen or older was liable to be called to war.

My father was not drafted, though he could have been because I was nearly seventeen at the time and even though he was my only living parent and I was his dependent, I was over the age of twelve. For some reason twelve and under was the magical age that kept you from becoming an orphan due to war drafts.

Darry was not drafted, but he could have been for the same reasons as my father could have been. Ponyboy was older than twelve, even if he was Darry's dependent, so he could have been drafted.

Two-Bit was not drafted, and he had a much higher chance than my father or Darry since he had both of his parents.

Ponyboy was not drafted because he was too young.

Curly was not drafted, and neither was Tim. But I think that had more to do with the fact that Tim was in jail at the time. Curly just got lucky.

Sodapop and Steve did not get lucky. They got their draft letters on the same day. Ponyboy said it was fitting that they were drafted together. We all knew if only one was called into war from the draft, the other would volunteer himself to go, too.

The draft papers gave them just a few days before they had to report for it.

I started crying as soon as I saw the seal on the envelope. There was plenty to say that hurt too much and got stuck in my throat.

So instead I said, "They're going to cut your hair," and I reached up and touched Soda's beautiful hair. His eyes were wet-looking, but he wasn't crying, and he actually laughed.

"I think I can live with that. I'm not Ponyboy."

We never talked about getting married before that draft letter came. I was still in school, and you weren't allowed to go to school if you were married. They would make you quit for some reason or another. But after those draft papers came in, it was something Soda couldn't stop talking about.

"If somethin' happens," he said, but I cut him off: "Nothing is going to happen." I kept telling myself that, because I didn't know how to keep from going crazy otherwise.

"Well, I sure don't plan on anythin' happening… But if it does, Brookie, they aren't going to let you know anythin' if we're not married."

He was right. But at the same time, if something happened and I didn't have a high school diploma, it would be hard for me. It was always harder for girls.

Soda was stubborn about it and even talked to my dad about it. I was surprised, but Dad said we should do it. I guess I shouldn't have been all that surprised, though, because my dad hadn't been much older than me when he got married.

"If you do it at a courthouse in another county, it won't run in the Tulsa papers. There would be no reason for the school to know about it. You'll still be able to graduate." It was what Dally would have called 'cheatin' the man'.

I didn't have a white dress. We didn't even have rings. And we didn't tell anyone other than my dad and Darry, to really make sure the school wouldn't find out about it.

I wore a light blue dress I'd gotten as a hand-me-down from Aunt Dolly and I braided and pinned up my hair. Soda was wearing blue, too—a blue plaid shirt. He picked me a bouquet of wildflowers before going into the courthouse. We drove three towns over, and the courthouse secretary acted as our witness since we didn't tell anyone about us getting married.

My dad gave us the money for it all.

Sodapop had to show them his driver's license and his birth certificate—we brought them just in case, because we didn't know what we'd need—before they would believe that 'Sodapop Patrick Curtis' was his real name.

It was so short. Like I said, we didn't have rings. I think the judge must have known somehow that Soda had gotten drafted. He let us take the marriage certificate with us.

"I'm not really supposed to let you have it immediately," he told us, "but I had my secretary do the paperwork so you could take it with you."

And then Curtis was my name, too. Brooklyn Paige Curtis.

There wasn't any time for us to be husband and wife, though. Soda and Steve had to leave the next day.

"Don't worry," Soda told me, smiling even though I was a crying mess. "I'll make sure I'll come back, Mrs. Curtis."

He really loved to say that.

That's how he addresses all the envelopes of the letters he sends to me. Mrs. Brooklyn Curtis.

It's been nearly a year since Sodapop and Steve got shipped out. I wish I knew what was going on over there, but Soda only writes good things in the letters he sends to me.

They did cut my hair, but it's not too bad. Kinda looks like Darry's.

Me and Steve taught some kinds how to play football. Only we don't have any footballs over here, so we used one of our field backpacks filled up with clothes.

The flowers are different here. I think you'd like them. That letter had dried flowers in it.

They keep me and Steve together pretty regularly. The sergeants think we work good together, and they're right.

I know he writes different things to Darry, but he won't let me or Ponyboy see any of that.

The letters don't come regularly, and they always have a lot of stamps on them because they have to travel so far. Evie brings her letters from Steve to school and she reads them to me and Karen and Curly.

I don't bring mine, because Soda uses my married name and because I'm selfish. I don't want to share.

I think a lot of people would expect me to be sadder or madder, if they looked at my life. I'm poor, my mother and brother killed themselves, and my husband is at war.

But as long as the letters keep coming, I'll be okay.

When enough bad things happen, you learn to be okay, no matter what happens.

I'm almost done with school. I'll have a diploma even though I'm married, and when Soda gets back we'll be able to be really married.

I wish my story had more of an ending, like Ponyboy's did. But that won't come for three more years, when Soda's time in the army is done.

I'll be counting down the days and letters until then.

A/N: Hey, y'all! I know I didn't update this fic for a very very long time, but that is because I was extremely indecisive about how I should end this story. I considered Soda coming home from war and also Soda dying in war, but... In the end, I've decided to have it end in an open-ended way, because that is what feels right. I hope you've enjoyed this story and Brooklyn as much as I have! I'm a little sad to say goodbye to her and this story, as it was my first, but this feels like the right way to end it.

Thank you for the read,

JGG