Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or "Nowhere Man" by the Beatles.

xxxxx

". . . Doesn't have a point of view/knows not where he's going to . . ."

It was one of those Indian summer days so muggy and oppressive you could almost wring moisture out of thin air. An early morning torrential downpour, followed by a wave of scalding heat, didn’t make it any more bearable.

Sixteen-year-old Grace Mathews was laying on her stomach in the middle of St. Louis Street.

Grace was not the victim of a brutal beating by the rival gang, the Socials, although her often-absent older brother, Keith, better known as Two-Bit, would probably beat the tar out of her if he caught her. Tension between the two groups was high and any greaser caught alone was fair game for the rich kids.

She was staring through a battered camera, focusing down the street, which was both swathed in the haze rising up from the steaming pavement and lit by the rising sun.

This was the way she wanted to see her world. The shutter clicked rapidly as she adjusted with the aperture and the shutter speed. After a few moments, the mist dissipated and the fairy kingdom quality Grace was trying to capture was lost.

She climbed to her feet, cradling her Nikon F protectively. The camera was the favorite of photo journalists and she had never had the guts to ask her older brother where he got it. It cost an arm and a leg and Two-Bit had never, as far as she knew, held a job. Unless you counted stealing hubcaps.

She irritably flicked her long red hair over her shoulders. It was sticking to her skin in the heat. It had looked like it was going to be a crisp, cold fall until the heat wave struck nearly a week ago – the day Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis had disappeared and that Soc had been found dead in the park.

She hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors surrounding the kid’s death – that quiet little Johnny had killed him. Grace knew Johnny a little bit, since he ran with her brother’s gang, and she would have sworn he wasn’t capable of killing anyone, although she had to admit he looked a little rough. If she was going to pick any of her brother’s friends she would have thought capable of killing, it’d be Dallas Winston or Steve Randle. Even when they were motionless, the two boys sent out an angry vibe.

It turned out the rumors had been true, and almost in cosmic retaliation for the pain he had dealt out, Johnny was back in town – this time with a broken back and burned nearly to death. Pony was okay and so was Dallas, who had helped the two younger boys hide out. Dallas’ survival didn’t surprise Grace. Dally was a human cockroach, he’d probably survive a nuclear war. She was glad about Pony, though. The kid was a little weird and Grace suspected he was maybe funny, but Two-Bit was very fond of him.

Grace’s long legs ate up the blocks between the neighborhood market and the cramped and cluttered rowhouse she shared with her mother and Two-Bit. Her dad was so long gone, she didn’t remember him, but Two-Bit did. Grace was careful not to mention their father around Two-Bit; a reminder of the old man was enough to put her normally cheerful brother into a sullen funk.

She climbed the steps and sashayed into their house, rolling her eyes when she found Two-Bit passed out on the couch; she was a little relieved, though. Two-Bit hadn’t slept well all week. She poked him.

"Hey, sleepyhead, it's seven-thirty. Get up."

"Whaaat?" Two-Bit blinked. "You've got to be shittin' me, Gracie. Seven-thirty in the morning?"

"Yeah, hey, don't do that!" She poked him again as he laid back down. "You told me to wake you up, remember? Ponyboy's back! You said you wanted to go see him."

Two-bit sat up again, blinking and rubbing his face.

"You had to get me up this early?" He looked at her reproachfully.

"You said, and I quote, 'Get me up when you get up, Little Bit,' and I've been up for more then an hour and a half." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Goddamn morning people," Two-Bit muttered, heading back toward the shower.

"Yeah, yeah," Grace said, fluffing her red hair. "You wouldn't be so tired if you'd slept this week, like I told you to. You never listen to me."

"When you start sayin' something worth hearin' is when I'll start paying attention," Two-Bit shouted from the back of the house.

"Keep it down, you're gonna wake mom up," Grace shouted back, tossing the paper on the coffee table, where Two-Bit would be sure to see it. She smiled and tapped the headline just under the mast head: "'Delinquent' Youths Turn Heroes After Daring Fire Rescue."

"Those crazy sonuvaguns," Grace said, humming to herself as she began to pick up the fallout from Two-Bit's bender the previous night.

xxxxx

She was sitting at the kitchen table, building a house of cards, when Two-Bit came back out, his hair heavily greased and slicked back. She made a face at him.

“Why do you even bother washing it? It looks like crap after you put all that gunk in it anyway.”

“So says the girl who’s dating the greasiest kid on the block.” Two-Bit puffed his cheeks out, miming blowing down her fragile construction.

“Very funny. Why are you always picking on Raymond?”

Raymond Roth quite simply was the hottest guy on St. Louis Street, and it wasn’t just because he had gorgeous chiseled cheekbones and soulful brown eyes – Ray exuded a sense of danger and confidence Grace thought was wildly sexy and exciting. Besides, half the girls on their street were crushing on him, and as far as Grace was concerned, that was good enough reason to hang on to him. Of course, there was Sodapop Curtis, but he was too good looking – almost a breathing work of art, something you wouldn’t dare touch, for fear of breaking it.

“Because he isn’t good enough for my baby sister,” Two-Bit said as he sauntered into the living room. “Hey, what’s this?” He picked up the paper.

“I know you can’t read or nothin’, Two-Bit, but that there’s a newspaper. You know, keeps you up on all the current events and social happenings.” Grace put another card on the tower, which was already five levels high. It trembled, but didn’t fall.

“Real cute, Little Bit,” he replied, folding the paper up and sticking it down the small of his back. “You be a good little girl now, ‘cause I’m going over to the Curtises an’ probably to see Johnny. Then there’s the big rumble tonight. My dance card is full and I don’t have no time to chase after you.”

“Like you chase after me any other time, Two-Bit. Why don’t you get lost?”

“Your concern is touching.” Two-bit bowed with over-the-top flourish.

Grace gave him an upraised middle finger.

Two-Bit only grinned and waltzed out the front door, slamming it so hard Grace’s card house fell down, scattering cards everywhere.

Watching a card seesawing down to the floor, Grace cursed.

xxxxx

The rest of the morning went quickly. Grace picked up the playing cards and put some coffee on for her mom, who worked so late that her morning coffee was practically a medical necessity. Once her mother was up, Grace took off. She felt a tiny bit guilty she didn’t stay and help her mom with the housework, but assuaged it with the knowledge that Two-Bit didn’t help either. She shouldn’t have to do all the chores, just because she was a girl.

Besides, ever since Grace started noticing boys, she and her mom didn’t exactly get on real well. Her mom never seemed to like any of the boys Grace brought home and once accused her of changing boyfriends more often than her underwear.

She’d been seeing Raymond for two months and they were still going strong, although Grace hadn’t brought him home. Her mom would just hate Ray.

She’d reached the Mathisons’ house by mid-morning. Lorraine Mathison had been seated next to Grace by virtue of alphabetical order in the first grade and the two girls had been inseparable ever since. The Mathisons weren’t rich, but they lived in a nice neighborhood and Lori always had plenty of spending money and was generous about treating Grace. Not only that, but Lori’s parents had the good sense to keep busy with the Jaycees and the school board, among other stuff, and out of Lorraine’s hair.

As suspected, Lori’s parents were off at some social event where a bunch of respectable middle-class and upright citizens sat around, swilling good booze and patting themselves on the back for being so ‘socially conscious.’

Grace was stretched out on the floor of Lori’s room, blessing air conditioning and wishing the Mathews house had more in the way of air conditioning than a few rickety fans.

"So . . . did you ask him about me?" Lorraine's pretty blue eyes were sparkling with anxiety.

"Who?" Grace said with annoyance as she paged through Seventeen magazine.

"You know -- Steve Randle. Oh my goodness, he is so . . . complicated."

Grace rolled her eyes. Lorraine had met Steve at Grace’s house over the past summer and hadn’t shut up about him since.

"The only complicated thing about Steve is his hair. And, no, I didn't ask him about you."

Lorraine bit her lip.

"Please, Grace, you've got to. Steve's so . . .," Lorraine smiled dreamily.

"Hot tempered? Short fused? Psychotic?" Grace flipped the page to an article about culottes.

"Intense, I was going to say," Lorraine said, sighing like a love-lorn puppy. "Your brother's good friends with him, isn't he? Ask Two-Bit if he ever mentions me."

"Yeah, let Two-Bit know you've got a crush on somebody. Really smart, Lori. Remember when I had that crush on Sodapop Curtis in the seventh grade?"

Lorraine went pale.

"Yeah, Lorraine, not a good idea."

“There’s got to be something you can do.” Lorraine was sitting at her vanity, which Grace secretly envied, brushing her long, pin-straight blonde hair. She put the brush down and turned toward Grace with an appealing look.

“What I can do is give you some advice. Stay away from Steve Randle. He’s bad news,” Grace said.

“He’s just misunderstood.”

“What’s there not to understand? He’s a hood. If you want to slum it, you could at least find somebody better lookin’.”

“I’m not slumming it, Grace.” Lori jumped up and started pacing. “How could you say that? You know I don’t care about that sort of stuff. Steve is my soul mate, and you won’t even help me!”

Grace rolled her eyes, but didn’t feel like getting up off the nice, cold carpet. It was so hot outside, although forecasters were calling for a cold snap later that afternoon. Besides, she was still tired from the walk.

“Alright already, I’ll help you. What am I supposed to do, though?”

“Just mention me around him and see if he acts interested.”

“Real subtle, Lorraine.” Grace tossed the magazine aside. “You wanna paint each other’s nails?” Lori had a new color nail polish every other week.

“Let’s go down to your house,” Lori suggested. “Maybe Steve’ll be around.”

Grace sat up, trying to think of a reason to stay inside, away from the stifling heat.

“I don’t think he will. He’s probably either at the Curtises’ house or over at the hospital, visitin’ Johnny Cade. He don’t spend too much time at my house.”

“Johnny Cade?” Lorraine’s eyes got wide and gleamed with avarice. “Isn’t he the one who killed that boy, Bobby Sheldon?” She leaned forward eagerly. “His mother and mine are in the women’s club together.”

“Yeah, but he was hurt real bad last night, trying to save some little kids. He’s in the hospital.”

“Let’s go visit him.”

“Lori,” Grace almost screamed. “We can’t.” Her jaw was nearly on her chest.

“Oh, okay,” Lorraine grumbled. “It was just an idea. Really.”

“I am not hanging out in the hospital room of a boy I barely know on the off chance you’ll be able to leer at Steve.”

“I don’t leer.” Lori sniffed. “It’s so unrefined.” She started giggling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You leer at Raymond.”

“No, I don’t.” Grace threw a pillow at her.

“Yes, you do.”

“Well, I can – he’s my boyfriend,” Grace grumped.

“C’mon, let’s go over your house and I’ll bring my new nail polish, ‘kay?”

“Oh, alright,” Grace said, getting up.

“I’ll bring my copies of Tiger Beat and we can make collages. I’ll stay the night.”

“Why do you always wanna stay at my house?”

“I dunno,” Lorraine shrugged. “At least your mom’s around.”

“Yeah,” Grace snorted. “I know. I can’t get rid of her.”

“At least she’s interested.”

xxxxx

Grace was awakened by a loud bang on the front door. She sat straight upright in bed, searching out the clock on the bedside table. It was one o’clock in the morning. Great, her mom wouldn’t be home for another hour or two at least.

Lori, sleeping in the camp bed beside Grace’s bed, also had sat up, startled by the noise.

“What was that? A burglar?” Lorraine whispered, her voice squeezed and tight with fear.

“If it is, he ain’t from the neighborhood, ‘cause if he was, he’d know we don’t have shit.” Grace crawled out of bed and fetched a ball bat from under it.

“I didn’t know you played softball,” Lorraine said.

“Don’t be a moron. Of course I don’t play softball. Two-bit gave this to me. A home security system, he called it.” Grace settled the bat on her shoulder. “Stay here.”

“I can’t stay here,” Lori squealed. “What if he comes back here?”

“If he does, then it’ll be because I’m in big trouble.”

There was another bang from the living room and the two girls could hear the deep timbre of a man’s voice.

“Oh God,” Lori said.

“Oh, come on, then,” Grace snapped, feeling more than a little panicked herself. Lorraine just had to fly to pieces at the worst possible time.

The two girls tip-toed into the living room.

“When I give the signal, you turn on the light,” Grace whispered to Lorraine.

Trembling, the other girl nodded.

Hefting the bat over her head, Grace crept toward a dark figure riffling through their refrigerator. Unfortunately for her, the light had either burnt out or broken six months ago and had never been fixed, so she could only see a vague hump. Her ears straining, she heard the low, musical clatter of glass bottles gently bumping each other.

The jerk was pilfering their beer; Two-Bit was going to be furiously pissed.

“NOW!” Grace yelled.

“Ahhhh!” Lorraine yelped, throwing the switch and flooding the room with light, and . . .

“Holy shit!” Two-Bit cursed, clumsily ducking his sister’s wild swing. Stumbling, he fell to the kitchen floor. He tried to get back up, but only made it to his knees. Even kneeling, he was weaving like a punch-drunk boxer.

“Two-Bit?”

“What?” Her brother was trying to focus on her, but something was wrong with him – the entire side of his face was taped up and there was a ton of gauze wrapped around his right hand. She could see blood on the white tee-shirt he was wearing under his trademark black leather jacket.

“Two-Bit!” Grace exclaimed, trying to help him to his feet. She’d seen him beaten a lot worse; despite Two-Bit’s fighting prowess, his smart aleck mouth made him a favorite target of the Socs.

After the third try, she realized not only was Two-Bit punch drunk, he also was literally drunk. Drunker than she’d ever seen him, and Grace had seen Two-bit so wasted he had trouble speaking coherently – something almost inconceivable for her fast-talking brother.

“Come help me get him to bed,” she snapped at Lorraine. Lori was acting like she’d never seen anyone beat this badly – and she probably hadn’t.

Lorraine hesitatingly approached the two Mathews siblings and, visibly screwing up her courage, grabbed Two-Bit by one leather-clad arm.

The two girls managed to steer the greaser into his bedroom, although the three of them barked their shins on the furniture and bumped into walls more than a few times. Two-Bit collapsed into the unmade bed and Grace wrestled his jacket from him while Lorraine gingerly pulled his sneakers off.

There was something in the pocket of Two-Bit’s jacket. Feeling around, Grace finally fumbled a clear glass quart-sized bottle from the inside pocket of Two-Bit’s jacket. She squinted at the label in the dim light.

“Glory, Two-Bit, this is one hundred forty proof! Did you drink this whole thing by yourself?”

Two-Bit sat bolt up right as if he had to retch and Grace grabbed the waste paper basket beside the bed and held it protectively in front of her, like a shield.

“I can see that you did. You swiped this, didn’t you?”

Two-Bit nodded miserably – not that he cared about being caught shoplifting. He was a delicate shade of green, however, and Grace sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night.

“Why didja want to get drunk on top of gettin’ the shit beat out of you?”

“Seemed like a good idea . . . at the time . . .” He grabbed the bucket and was violently ill.

Grace stood well back from the bed; Two-Bit was her brother, but there were some times the sibling bond just wasn’t enough.

Two-Bit laid back, groaning, and Grace decided it was safe to get close to him again.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Grace asked her semi-conscious brother. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Scared . . . bat . . . check my shorts?” Two-Bit murmured.

“Quit trying to be funny, Keith.”

“Not trying . . . am. . .”

“I almost hit one outta the park Two-Bit an’ it was goin’ to be your head.” Grace crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Naw . . . aim worse’n your sense-a humor . . .”

“Enough about my sense of humor. Would you please tell me why you decided to give me an’ Lori premature gray hair? We thought you were a burglar.”

“We beat the Socs,” Two-Bit said, grabbing her wrist and squeezing so tightly she yipped with pain. He looked at her, and for the first time that evening, he was completely focused. “Ran ‘em right out of the neighborhood.”

Grace frowned; she knew about the rumble, of course. Everyone in the neighborhood was aware of the escalated warfare between the South Side and the North Side since the Sheldon kid had been greased. Raymond, who ran with the Shepard gang, was supposed to go to the battle royale tonight, too. He’d looked forward to it with a fixated eagerness that was scary and exciting at the same time.

“What about Steve?” Lorraine asked anxiously. Grace gave her a quelling look; she didn’t want Two-Bit picking up on Lori’s crush. He’d tease her something awful, and even worse, might tell Steve. If Steve was mean to Lori, Grace would have to kill him.

“Three busted ribs . . . ol’ Steve-o isn’t feeling too good . . . neither am I . . .none of us are tonight . . .” Two-Bit laughed distractedly.

Lorraine’s eyes welled up with tears; Grace waved her back and the other girl left the room.

Two-Bit didn’t notice, since he was vomiting in the waste basket again. Grace was having trouble not being sick herself. She hated to watch people puke.

A few moments later, Lorraine came back into the room and handed Grace a wet rag. Lori’s eyes were a little red and Grace gave her hand a quick squeeze, before sitting down beside her brother and mopping his flushed face with the cool rag.

“Lori, why don’t you . . .” Grace trailed off, seeing Loraine’s miserable face. She knew her best friend wouldn’t be able to sleep, since she was so worried about Steve. She’d suggest Lorraine go to bed, since she didn’t really need her help, but it would probably be useless. “Come help me with Keith?”

Lorraine sat beside her and Grace gave her an awkward one-armed hug. Seeing Lori’s red rimmed eyes reminded her . . .

“Hey, Two-bit, is Ray okay?” She asked, wondering why she hadn’t asked before. She hadn’t really thought about Raymond all night.

“Ray . . . ?” Two-bit seemed confused. “He’s alright . . . it’s Johnny an’ Dallas that’re dead . . . goddamn fuzz, took my switch . . .” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, putting his hands over his eyes, as if to stop himself from seeing something.

Grace had a feeling he was seeing it anyway.