A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This Johnny (Johnny 2.0) is my own creation (along with Mikey, Dave, Shane, Pat, & Neil), though he was unashamedly inspired by Ms. Hinton's Johnny. Just when I let you think something good's gonna happen, I sucker punch you right in the gut. Sorry.

Dallas and I turned out to be pretty good partners, though we didn't get a whole lot done on the project. We mostly just talked whenever he bothered showing up. He was tuff, and I often found myself wishing I could be just like him. I'd stopped at the cemetery one day to put out some new flowers, and was in the process of scrounging up a dollar, when a familiar lanky figure came striding towards me. "Whatcha doin', kid?" He asked with that perpetual smirk on his face.

"Oh, these are a couple of my dad's friends. He couldn't make it today, so I said I'd go. I don't think they like me too well."

"Kid, you're a few cents short of a Benjamin, you know that? Dead people don't talk back." Dallas studied the worn stones for a while before softly remarking, "They died the same day."

"Yeah. That one, Dally, was a real wild card, but when his buddy Johnny died, he broke. Suicide by cop, I think."

"How'd the other kid die?"

"He was burned real bad when saving some kids from a fire; broke his back too. He and my dad were tight. It broke him up something fierce."

"You named after that Johnny cat?"

"Nope. I was adopted because I remind my dad of his buddy. I guess that's his way of dealing with the pain."

"That's kinda morbid, kid. Wanna go to a movie? It might lighten you up."

"Yeah, just a sec." I'd finally found all the coins in my pocket and poured them into the potting soil. "Okay, let's go, Dal."

His old beater was parked near the entrance to the cemetery, and I had to wonder if he knew I'd be there. He had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly where I'd be at any given time, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was stalking me. I bet he can pick me out a mile away. I wrapped the frayed seatbelt across my lap, but the buckle didn't work, so I tucked it behind my hip to make it seem like I was safe. I don't think anybody would've cared. He slouched down in the driver's seat and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. "Got a light, kiddo?" I struck a match on the bottom of my shoe and leaned toward him with it. After it lit, I threw it out the window, and he blew smoke in my face, laughing. I always liked it when people did that.

We silently shared the smoke till it was gone, then he started asking questions. "Hey, who's that kid that you're with all the time?"

"One of my cousins. Why?" I didn't want to talk about Mikey, or my home life, but it was unavoidable with Dallas.

"'Cuz he looks like a major psycho. I thought you might need protection."

"I got a blade too. It ain't much, but it'll work."

"I know, but you need somebody else there. He takes advantage of you."

"How d'you know so much about me?"

"We're neighbors. Y'know that cracker box next to your place?"

"Yeah." It was pretty crummy looking, I'd thought for the longest time that it was abandoned.

"That's my place. I live there with my old man, some stray cats, and an endless supply of cancer sticks and booze." That explains a lot. I thought, looking out the window.

The movie we'd gone to see was nothing to write home about, it mostly gave us an excuse to go somewhere by ourselves for a while. I don't even remember what it was called, to be honest. I was busier studying Dallas's profile in the light on the screen. He winked at me when he caught me staring. Lord, but he was handsome. He had fine smooth features, like sculpted marble, and a long straight nose that dipped downward slightly at the tip. It had probably been broken at least a few times. He didn't appear to be watching the film at all, for his gaze peered through the screen, as though it were glass. He was letting me stare.

He dropped me home a few hours after the movie, but we arranged to meet the next day in an old lot. We still had lots of things to discuss. When I entered the house, I wasn't surprised to find mayhem everywhere, but the weird thing was that it stopped as soon as they all saw me. "Where have you been, young man?" Dad demanded, looking upset and frazzled.

"I, um, went to see a movie." I'd never seen Dad so angry before, and I was trying hard to keep calm.

"With whom?"

"Dallas. He met up with me at the cemetery, and we saw…something, I can't remember."

"Why don't you go to bed and stay there until you do remember?" He was shaking, but his voice was soft. I sneaked past him, but as I opened the door to our room, he caught me by the elbow. "Don't you ever do that again." He breathed, clutching my arm in a vice grip.

I didn't understand why everyone was so on edge until I saw the phone. Then, it dawned on me, and my thoughts began a tirade. You forgot to let them know, you idiot! You know better than that, and you screwed up royally this time. He probably won't even let you out of his sight tomorrow, unless you're with Mikey, and you know how that'll end. Badly. Get some sleep, moron, you're gonna need it.