Disclaimer: I don’t own the Outsiders, S.E. Hinton does. I like to borrow. I don't make any money doing this - I do it for love)

Warnings: This story contains coarse language, descriptions of violence and mild sexual situations. Please don't read if you think any of it will offend you.

Author's Note: This story ties in with Artemis Rex's "Saving Grace", as well as my own story "Triangle" which runs concurrently with this. This story basically comes first out of all of them.

I was sittin’ on the bumper of my car having a smoke when I saw her walk by. Final bell had just rung – I’d skipped out of history on account it was boring as hell, and the teacher appreciated my wisecracks so much she sent me down to the principal on a regular basis. ‘Course I usually took a detour out the side doors and avoided the lecture from Mr. Casing altogether. I can take a hacked off Principal telling me to shut it and pay attention or else, but hearing him call me Keith over and over makes it feel like he ain’t even talking to me, so what’s the point of listening?

The girl was new, that much I’d guessed. She was looking around the school grounds like she had no idea how she’d ended up there. I’d also never seen her before, and I make it my business to remember every good looking girl at the school. I would’ve remembered her. She had the blondest hair I’d ever seen, and natural to boot from what I could tell. Now, I don’t have a lot of weaknesses, but throw a good looking blonde in front of me and you got one.

I threw the cigarette butt away and looked around a bit. The crowds were thinning out, everyone headed home or off to hunt some kind of action. I spotted Ponyboy and Johnny heading north, home probably. Ponyboy always walks from his middle school to Will Rogers and walks home with Johnny. They never walked alone now since Johnny'd been jumped last weekend. Kid still looked like hell, but he'd come to school the day before and today - likely to get away from his old man. Steve had Evie attached to one arm, Sandy close behind, heading over to Steve’s car, probably to the DX to see Soda. It’d been awhile since Dallas had seen the inside of a school, since he was currently enjoying room and board at the City Jail for the last couple days, so I figured I’d wait around, see where this cute young thing was going.

She wasn’t really our type, but she wasn’t no Soc either. Easy to see that from the way those Soc girls were looking at her. She was standing under the big sycamore tree that some senior Soc had driven into a few months back. They’d pass her by, and some would laugh, and I could tell from her face they were probably sayin’ something none too nice.

It was probably her clothes. That was what had got my attention any how. She was wearing a skirt so short I couldn’t believe any mother would let their daughter out of the house for school looking like that. Long tanned legs and flat shoes on. She had a nice blouse on though and her hair done up real nice, probably the only reason the teachers hadn’t sent her home. Not a lot of makeup either, all things that made me think she was no greaser girl. And anyway, new girls in town were pretty much left to fend for themselves among the middle crowds – people no one would remember after graduation, except their own group of friends. Only those types of girls were passing her right by, too. I’ll confess, it made me pretty curious.

She had her books all in her arms, looking around like she was waiting for someone. So I waited too, hoping that no muscle bound boyfriend was on his way. After awhile she turned away from the school, her gaze rested on me a second before she looked down at the ground, turned and began to walk up the street.

It only took me a second after runnin’ the comb through my hair to cross the lot and catch up with her.

“You waitin’ on someone?” I asked.

She stopped and turned around, looking surprised that someone had even talked to her.

“Oh, I was, but I guess they’re not coming,” she said quietly. “You don’t know where Al’s Discount Records is do you?”

She was no Okie, I’ll tell you that. Couldn’t place the accent, but it wasn’t local, that was for sure.

“Yeah, down on 11th, on the way downtown,” I said. “It’s a bit of a walk from here, and I wouldn’t go it alone if I were you. Don’t think you’d get jumped or nothing, being a girl and all, but I still wouldn’t risk it.”

“Oh,” she answered, slightly disappointed. “Well is there a bus?”

“Shoot, I got my car just over there, I’ll give you a ride,” I told her, flashing her a grin. She looked at me carefully – I can always tell when a girl is sizing me up like she was – then she smiled and nodded. We turned to walk back towards my Plymouth, and I’m not embarrassed to tell you I was prayin’ real hard the thing would start.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Friends call me Two-Bit,” I answered. I always hated telling girls my real name, and darn it if they all didn’t ask me what it was all the time. She was different though, smiled a little and didn’t ask one thing.

“I’m Francine … but people call me Franny,” she said with a smile. We’d just reached my car and I did the gallant thing and opened the door for her. I saw how well that paid off for Sodapop once when we picked up a couple girls on the way to the football game and hell if I wasn’t gonna try it myself.

The car turned over right away and I gave a silent thank you to whoever’s up there and we sailed out of the parking lot and towards downtown.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” I asked her.

“No, we just moved here during Easter break a week ago, from California,” she said.

“No kiddin’?” I said. “What’s a genuine California girl doin’ all the way out here anyway?”

I saw her look down at her shoes before she answered with a sigh. “My parents, they’re getting a divorce. My mom grew up in Tulsa, so she moved us back here. I don’t quite know what to make of it yet.”

“Well, I guess it ain’t no California,” I said easily. She was probably embarrassed about the divorce thing and I kinda knew how she felt, it’s not great telling people your old man ain’t around. “Ain’t no surfing around here and I’ll bet you good money the Beach Boys won’t ever sing a song about the girls in Tulsa.”

She gave a small laugh. I think I’m doing pretty good if I can get people to laugh, and she looked like she needed it.

“Who were you waiting on, back at school?”

“Oh,” she said. “A girl I started talking to in my English class. She told me all about the record store and said she’d take me there today...but she never showed up.”

She was quiet for a minute as we drove on. I was taking the long way there on purpose, figuring she wouldn’t know that.

“I wish I knew what I’d done ... ” she said quietly. “I changed schools once before, and people were strange at first, but they came around after a few days. I’ve been in school a week now and no one talks to me. Well, no one but you.”

She looked over at me then and flashed me a quick smile.

I didn’t know whether to say anything, but maybe she could use some advice.

“Probably your clothes,” I said, glancing over at her again. Damn she had nice legs. “Girls around here, well, only a certain kind might wear skirts that short. Most girls wouldn’t, especially not to school.”

“I’d noticed,” she said with a sigh. “They’re all I’ve got though. Plenty of respectable girls wear them. Mini skirts are all the rage back in California, every girl wears them.”

She looked over at me when she said this, almost like she was tryin’ to drive home that she was respectable. It was kind of cute. I pulled into a parking space right in front of the record store.

“Do they now?” I said, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Well, I guess I’ll have to take a trip out to California then.”

She smiled again, I got out of the car and she started to follow, and I just about wanted to sink through the ground when she couldn’t get the door open. I came around to her side from the outside and tried the handle, but it’s a tricky thing, so I had to go back inside the car to try it.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Thing sticks when it’s gonna rain.”

I leaned across her to try the handle myself and damn if she didn’t smell good. Not like cheap cigarettes like Kathy did, but just sweet. Sweet and soft.

The door handle suddenly gave a pop and I pushed the door open, leaning back from her slowly. She looked over at me and smiled again as she got out of the car and shut the door.