Bridgette arrived at math class early, not to prepare for her presentation but because she wanted to talk to Pony about everything that had happened recently. He ended up slipping into his seat just as the bell rang and he looked at her apologetically.

Pony and Bridgette were first to present. Bridgette would have liked to go second or third, but those slots had already been filled by the time the sign-up sheet had come their way. Apparently no one wanted to be first.

It wasn't exactly encouraging to get to the front of the class and be met with disgusted or annoyed expressions. Public speaking was bad enough without knowing your audience already disliked you. Pony was hanging up a poster they had worked on together when the door opened. Bridgette looked up and was pleasantly surprised to find James. He nodded once and then took a seat next to Mr. Schmidt at the back of the class. Mr. Schmidt didn't even blink so it had to be planned. Bridgette caught Pony's eye before they started and he was giving her a very pointed look. She ignored him.

The presentation went smoothly just as Bridgette knew it would. They had worked so hard that it was bound to fall into place. They took their seats, ignoring the fact that the only people clapping for them were Mr. Schmidt and James. The next group stood up and Pony turned in his seat to give Bridgette a smile.

Without realizing it, they set the bar pretty high. The other students knew the information well enough, but hardly any of them seemed prepared or comfortable in front of the class. They stumbled over their words or they read directly from their notes. Math was never particularly exciting, but at least Bridgette and Pony had made visuals and put some inflection in their voices as they talked. It was almost painful sitting through the rest of the groups.

Bridgette was still anxious to talk to Ponyboy but James pulled them both aside after class.

"That was really well done," he praised. Bridgette smiled appreciatively while Pony slid his thumbs through his belt loops and leaned back while he studied James. "I knew you two were smart but I didn't know you'd be the best in the class."

"I wouldn't say that," Bridgette said modestly.

"You were," he said simply. "It looks like everything worked out."

He smiled reassuringly at Bridgette and she wondered briefly if he popped in to observe them just to see if lying to her mom would be justified. She nodded curtly. She would have loved to chat with him longer but she was perfectly aware that Pony was scrutinizing everything they did and it made her feel weird.

"Right," James said. "I'll let you two go. Just wanted to congratulate you both."

He smiled at each of them and then took off. Pony watched him for a second before slowly removing his thumbs from his belt loops.

"What a monster," Bridgette said sarcastically.

"He does seem nice," Pony allowed. "But, I'm telling you, there is something not quite…right about it all. I have this weird feeling."

"Well save that thought for later because I have something to tell you," she said excitedly.

He looked conflicted for a moment, concern dancing across his beautiful eyes. She knew that he didn't want to drop the James conversation but he eventually beckoned for her to continue.

"A lot has happened," she said.

"Like?"

"Like," she said, "I have tasted freedom and I like it."

"You lost me."

"My mom found out I was partnered with you for this project and she kind of…lost it a little," she admitted, wincing when she realized that was probably offensive to him. She waited for him to scowl or something but instead his brow knit in confusion.

"Is that why you had that bruise on your cheek yesterday?" he asked. He even lifted his hand as if he was going to gently brush his fingers over her cheek. Instead he dropped his hand to his side and leaned in close as if trying to locate the bruise.

"What? Oh. Kind of." She had forgotten that the shower after soccer had removed her makeup, thus showing her bruise off to both Tim and Pony. It didn't bother her that Tim saw it because he had seen her look worse, but it made her uncomfortable that Pony saw it.

"Kind of?" he frowned.

"She has deluded herself into thinking I should be partnered with Socs," Bridgette explained with an eye roll. "She doesn't understand anything about, well, anything." Instead of clearing anything up, Pony just continued to stare at her in confusion. "Uh, anyway, so she told me to change partners but there was no way in hell I was going to do that. So I convinced James and Tim to lie to her for me."

Bridgette waited for him to cry out in surprise.

"James?" he asked blankly.

"Mr. Midland," she clarified. "I figured I would need someone on the staff to vouch for me eventually. But that's not the big deal here. Tim! I got Tim to lie to Mom for me!"

"Doesn't he lie to her all the time?"

Bridgette's enthusiasm was faltering but she refused to let it slip that easily. This was big and Pony just didn't understand that yet.

"Of course he does. But I don't lie to her ever so he knows this is a big deal. And it also means he likes you enough to lie for me. He wouldn't do it for pretty much anyone else in this town."

"He would if the only other option was a Soc," he said.

Bridgette's smile faltered but she clung on to every bit of optimism she had.

"He acknowledged I wasn't a kid anymore," she blurted. "He understands I'm growing up."

"I told you that a few days ago," he rolled his eyes. "He sees you're sixteen now. He understands you're growing up just like everyone else in this town does. He'll probably keep you on an even tighter leash now."

Bridgette stepped back, stung by his words. Leash? She wasn't Tim's dog. She wasn't his pet. She was her own person with a mind of her own and she finally felt like she was making progress with her identity and the way others saw her, and in one fell swoop, Pony had managed to bring her back to a staggering halt. What was he playing at? She was sure Pony of all people would appreciate the magnitude of the situation. It was because of that belief that she started to doubt it was the turning point she had hoped it was. Clearly Pony didn't think things had changed for the better. In fact, he made it sound like things would be worse.

"You're right," she said stiffly. "I got overexcited. Now that this project is over I can return to my kennel. Until our next project, of course."

She ran off before she had even finished her sentence because she didn't want him to get in the last word. She was furious. She couldn't believe he had managed to belittle her entire sibling bonding moment with Tim without even batting an eye. She didn't understand why he couldn't appreciate the situation the way she wanted him to. Mostly she was angry for allowing herself to put so much stock in his opinion. Who cares what he thought? She was the one that had lived with Tim for her entire life. She was the one that knew just how grandiose this all was. She was perfectly capable of enjoying this moment without Pony's approval.

So why was she on the verge of tears?

She ate lunch in the bathroom which was unsanitary but it was the only place she knew Pony couldn't find her. Technically, he could walk into the bathroom and trap her. It was exactly the type of thing a greaser would do, throw caution to the wind and go after what he needed. But Pony wasn't like most greasers in the same way she wasn't. Pony broke enough rules when he was younger to last a lifetime and he wasn't keen on the idea of getting into any more trouble. He finally had his life back on track and barging into girls' bathrooms wasn't high on his priority list.

So she was able to eat in peace and collect her emotions. She channeled a lot of her aggression into soccer that day and the coach forced her to run laps to burn off her energy before she hurt anyone. It was one of those moments where she wished so desperately she could be in a rumble. She wanted nothing more than to beat someone as hard as she could. She was so frustrated and she had built up so much bitterness inside of her that she felt like she was going to explode.

Instead of going on a rampage, she took one of the school soccer balls home with her. She was lucky it was a Friday because her parents wouldn't check to see if her homework was finished right away. It meant she could pop her head into the house, inform Tim that she was going to the park to kick the ball around, and run off. Normally Tim might put up some kind of fight about her going out alone at night but he could probably sense she needed to get out.

Bridgette was a whirlwind of energy and aggression as she dribbled the ball around the park. There were only a few people there—a couple enjoying a romantic stroll through the trees and a group of guys passing a bottle around their circle. No one paid Bridgette any mind like always. Good. For once she wanted to be alone.

She couldn't even put her feelings into coherent thoughts because every time she tried, she would feel her body tremble in anger and she didn't want to open a can of worms. Instead she kicked the ball as hard as she could against the bathroom wall, chasing after it every time it ricocheted away from her.

She kept that up for about an hour before she was drained. She was too tired to feel anything so she headed home. Tim was waiting for her and he cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Bad day?" he asked teasingly.

"Something like that," she panted.

"Your presentation?" he asked hesitantly.

"Perfect," she said, waving off the suggestion with a flick of her hand. That was good enough for him. He wasn't much of a talker to begin with, but he especially didn't do emotions or feelings. As long as she was still the golden child he didn't really need to know what was bothering her.

She wanted to shout to anyone that listened that she was more than a good student and strong athlete. And she was more than Tim and Curly's sister. She was a person with real feelings and people kept treading on those feelings without a second thought. It would have made her angry to think about it but, again, she was too tired. She had worn herself out.

She took a quick shower and collapsed into bed.

Bridgette awoke to a torrential downpour the next day. She was expecting Tim to be home because rain and hair grease didn't go too hot together but she couldn't find anyone. She figured that was probably for the best. She was in a really weird mood and she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Normally she would take a ball to the park and kick it around as she sorted through the jumble of thoughts in her brain but she was stuck at home that day.

She didn't really know how she felt about her chat with Pony the day before any more. At first she was livid, then bitter. Now she just felt kind of…defeated. She wouldn't go as far as to say she felt hopeless but it wasn't too far off.

She knew with every fiber of her being that real progress had been made with Tim. She wasn't stupid. She knew it wasn't much progress but it was progress nonetheless. She didn't need Pony to rub that in her face.

But as happy as she was that things seemed to be changing slightly in her favor, she kept feeling this nagging tugging at the back of her brain. Because the truth was, nothing had really changed. Tim didn't see her as a kid anymore, and he was proud of her for lying to their mom, but in the grand scheme of things, everything was exactly as it had always been. She was still under Tim's totalitarian control. He still had the final say in everything she did. She knew from the bottom of her heart that he meant well and he wanted what was best for her, but for the first time in her life she felt suffocated. It was easy to sit in her room day in and day out and focus on school and soccer when she didn't have friends to distract her. But now James was showing an interest in her life and asking her what she was sacrificing to be so good at everything. She never believed she was sacrificing anything until she got closer to Pony. Yeah, she had genuinely loved the little shit for most of her life, but he was a real, tangible part of her life now. He annoyed her more than most people, but he was still a friend. Things had changed externally and now she wanted change internally. Yet she knew Tim would never budge with her. He had seen too much and experienced too much. He wasn't going to let something happen to Bridgette now that she was so close to getting out.

She was sad, to put it simply. Very simply. The kind of sad that grips you and dissolves you from the inside out.

The truth was, Bridgette could decide to rebel. She could make friends with all of the people she had been forbidden to speak to. She could go to the parties at Buck's house. She could skip a homework assignment. She knew she was smart enough to do just as well in school as she always had, even if she did have a social life. And she liked soccer enough to practice without being nagged or pushed by her parents. She could kiss boys and have boyfriends and talk to girls about boys and makeup and other things girls talked about. She could do that.

But she wouldn't. It wasn't just her family that wanted something better for her. She wanted something better for herself. She wanted to get out of that town and go to school where greasers and Socs didn't exist. She didn't even know if a town like that existed but she had to find out. She had to get away from the watchful eye of her parents and brothers. She had to be her own person for the first time in her life and the only way she could do that was to get away. Even if Tim hit his head and got amnesia, the rest of the town would still treat her like a leper.

She decided then and there to get back on terms with reality. She was Bridgette Shepard, little sister to Tim and Curly Shepard. She was a greaser that no one wanted to accept as a greaser. She didn't really have friends and that was okay by her. She would have plenty of time for friends in college. She just had to focus and get through the next year and a half. If she worked hard enough, she might even graduate early.

So that is how Bridgette spent the rest of her day, with her head buried in her books. She did all of her homework and reread all of her books for English. She considered going to prom just to get that extra credit even though she didn't really need it. But extra credit never hurt anyone. Plus, it wasn't like either James or Mr. Schmidt would actually be at prom. She could buy her ticket and never show.

Yes, she would lose herself in her schoolwork and soccer once again. That was familiar to her. School never let her down or made her feel hopeless. School was the safe choice for her. Maybe it really was her sanctuary as Curly had joked once. And that was just fine with her.

She didn't see anyone until the next day. It was another day of pouring rain and Bridgette was sitting in the living room with the front door ajar so she could hear the peaceful sound of the rain as she read. She could hear Tony groaning and swearing as he made his way up the porch. He walked in looking like a drowned rat.

"This rain is going to be the death of me," he snapped. "The fuck…"

"You could borrow an umbrella," Bridgette offered, not bothering to look up from her book.

"Can you seriously picture me with an umbrella?" Tony scoffed. Bridgette shrugged. "I didn't come here to talk about the weather. Tim told me to come here and tell you what's happening."

"What's happening?" Bridgette asked, setting her book down.

"Curly and Frankie are in the slammer," he said simply.

"Again?" Bridgette frowned.

"Something went wrong in Mountford, apparently," he said. "Tim has been down at the station to work something out but I think they'll be there for at least a month."

"A month?" Bridgette asked. "That's not so bad."

"Yeah, it's really not so long for them," he said. "Anyway, I guess that's it."

"Thanks for letting me know."

"Sure," he said. He grabbed some food from the fridge before braving the storm once more.

Bridgette tried to go back to reading but she couldn't focus on the words in front of her. She was used to her brothers being in and out of the slammer but that didn't mean she liked it. Every time they got out, it was like they lost another piece of themselves. Before long, they would be a shell of their former selves.

She remembered when she was probably three and her brothers were six and nine respectively and they were spending the day in the park. Their parents had never been a huge part of their lives and left them to their own devices from the moment they could walk and talk. One time an irate lady brought home a four-year-old Tim. He had wandered off like he always did. Most people in town didn't think twice about it but he had managed to walk across town, into the middle class section. A woman in her thirties found this tiny four-year-old walking the streets looking like he hadn't eaten or bathed in a week. She made him a sandwich and then rushed to our house to scream at my mom for her poor parenting skills. Of course, that never happened because my mom wasn't home. The lady tried to get social services involved but the greaser part of town banded together to keep Tim with the family. Greasers don't have much but they do have their families and they're loyal to them, if the families aren't always so nice back.

Anyway, Bridgette wasn't alive when that happened. Sometimes when Tim would tell that story, Bridgette wondered how different her life would be if social services had actually taken Tim away from them. Would she have more freedom? Would she be one of those girls that got pregnant at fourteen? Would she even exist?

That wasn't even the point. So Bridgette was at the park with her brothers when she was three. It was before any of them had really been exposed to the horrors of the town, though Tim wasn't too far off. Tim and Curly were wrestling and Bridgette was cheering them on and giggling like crazy. Then she decided she wanted to join in and jumped on top of them. Tim laughed in surprise at his tiny sister trying to wrestle. He didn't push her off or tell her she was going to get hurt. He let her push him around and told Curly to do the same. Before long Bridgette would nudge Tim or Curly and they would go flying as if she possessed super human strength. She thought it was the greatest thing in the world.

That was the last time she could remember a time where all three of them had been untouched by the complexities of the world. Pretty soon Tim had fallen into a bad group of boys and was caught trying to steal candy bars from the local shop. When he got away with a slap on the wrist, he never looked back. It escalated to much larger theft, violence, truancy, and drugs. Curly was good about protecting Bridgette from the truth when Tim was going through the worst of the drug phase. He would make up stories about him going on camping trips or staying in bed all day because he had worn himself out playing football. It wasn't until Bridgette was older that she connected the dots. She was grateful to Curly for sheltering her in that sense. She didn't like the idea of her brothers being on heavy drugs and she was glad she didn't have to experience it firsthand.

Curly followed in his brother's footsteps, though not to the same extent. He was similar to Two-Bit in the sense that kleptomania was his thing. He couldn't seem to help himself. He had been caught more than a few times and had spent more than a good part of his life in some kind of serious trouble with the law.

They had their own lives and their own things going on. Bridgette would always be their little sister but the days of wrestling in the park were long gone.

The memory made her sad and she closed her book, finally giving up on it.