Chapter 2

Changes

"'Cause we have had enough
All the violence has touched every part of our lives"

- Papa Roach "Had Enough"

As the gang gathered in the living room, the tone for the night was apparent. Darry, being the oldest of the group, well into his mid twenties, looked exhausted as he looked at the faces of his friends. Soda was just shy of 24, Steve having turned 24 a few months prior. The same went for Two-Bit who looked ready to kick back and throw down a cold one. Pony looked bitter, but the fire just didn't reach his eyes at 20. Michelle was the only one who truly looked as angry as any of them ever did before a rumble.

"I can't believe this is it," Soda said to Steve as the two helped Meg gather the younger kids belongings for their weekend trip. "It's been a long time coming."

"Finally, a real talk," Steve agreed. He knew what it looked like. They were all well into their twenties. The time for rumbles and fists solving their problems had long since passed. But Steve couldn't help but be bitter. He couldn't help but want justice for the lives lost that fateful day. But beating some kid to a pulp wouldn't solve it.

Hours after Meg picked up Shaynne, Bethany and Michelle, the gang filed out of the living room, down to the lot. Much to their surprise, it seemed the entire town had showed up. Steve caught sight of Tim Shepard, who took Jo's death surprisingly hard when he got news. The old folks from the diner she used to work at showed up, as did many people from all over town.

But there he was. The kid who killed Beth's mother. He looked no more than seventeen, clearly terrified. Steve had heard from the district attorney that his folks had bailed him out the first night, but he would be sentenced for vehicular manslaughter later that month. This was exactly why they were doing this now.

"Steve," the kid called, his tone shaking as he looked at the man before him. He knew if this went south, he'd be just as dead as Jo and Mary were.

"Johnathon," Steve nodded, stepping in front of the gang, his family, giving the kid a once over. The kid looked terrified, like his entire world had just fallen apart. And maybe it had. You don't just walk away from an accident like that without any scars. Not even Dallas Winston could have managed that.

"I know it ain't much, but I'm sorry," the kid called. Steve motioned John over to the cars, where people watched in awe at the calmness of the entire situation. Despite their ages, some believed the fighting would never cease. And maybe for some it wouldn't. Tim still got hauled in for fighting every now and then. And he was far too old for it. But the others, they all grew up along the way.

Steve and John leaned against Darry's ancient looking truck, a weed shared between them as they looked out at the group.

"I know I'll never be able to make it right," the kid said sadly, tears streaming down his face. "But ya gotta know, I didn't mean to."

"I know," Steve said, surprising himself and everyone who could hear their conversation. "That's why we're here."

"I'm looking at hard time, man," John went on, his voice trembling. "I ain't even seen the car, they came outta no where, I swear."

"You killed my wife," Steve said though there was no anger in his voice. "You killed my wife and her sister and her sister's unborn child."

"I know," the kid sobbed. "And I can't ever take that back. I can't never make that right."

"You can't change the past, but you can certainly change the future," Steve said calmly, looking up at the stars that could barely be seen against the city lights. "You can promise me here and now that you won't never lay a hand on a Greaser just because of their social status. You can promise me you'll never drink and drive again. You can promise me you'll do something with your life, kid."

"And that'll make it better?" John asked him, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, but it'll give me closure," Steve said a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Kid, the world's changing. This ain't just about money no more. I've seen kids I grew up with shot for drugs. Shoot, not so long ago, I had to watch my best buddy struggle with addiction. His dealer was dead a month after he got clean. The world's not as simple as it was when I was a kid. So do something good with the life you've got, ya hear? Never know, you could change it for everyone."

It didn't seem like much, but months later, word reached Steve that the Greaser/Soc fighting seemed to have ceased in their part of Tulsa. Weather because that one kid did something to make a difference, or because the world was just changing, Steve would never know, but regardless, he was grateful. The feud was finally over and people were finally getting along, least for the most part.

In a perfect world, that would have made the family happy. Knowing that Michelle and Bethany and Shaynne would never need to go through what they went through as kids. That they'd be able to walk down the street without fear. But as the gangs dissolved, new problems aroused. But those problems could wait for another day.

"So in a way, mom's death meant something," I asked as I looked up at my father, who still had the faraway look in his eyes. "Her death made a difference."

"I like to think so," he nodded. "But in the same, it could have just been dumb luck and good timing. But I like to think if nothing else, that kid, John, learned the cost of a good time and went on to do something good with his life," he added.

"Do you ever miss it?" I asked, wondering if he missed the fighting. Keith swore he didn't, same with Darry, Soda and Pony. But my dad had always been different. Michelle told me the stories from way back when more times than I cared to remember.

"Not at all," he said with a smile. "It's nice knowing you and Shaynne, Sprite and Missy will never need to go through what we did growing up. But y'all are going to have problems of your own to face, that much hasn't changed. It never will.

"But we'll never have to face the Greaser/Soc problems," I nodded, smiling at the thought because my boyfriend, Sean, was from an upperclass family and her folks liked me just fine. The money situation was hardly ever an issue for us, even though his older brother sometimes liked to try and throw it in my face that I'd never be able to afford the pretty dresses his girlfriend could. Quite frankly, that was the least of my worries. I was satisfied with what I had and all my father and family had been able to give me growing up, and Sean never loved me any less for my short comings, much less my inability to dress in the latest, most outrageous styles. I couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with that fateful night almost fifteen years ago. Maybe in a way, it did.

A/N - I tried to make the whole "Talk" seem a bit more meaningful, without emotions clouding Steve's judgement. In a sense, it's definitely dramatized and would likely never happen in real life, but hey, that's the whole idea with writing. :) I wanted to show in a sense, how the gang scene began to change shortly following the accident.

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