Disclaimer: I wich I may I wish I might own them but I have not right. The Ousiders belongs to S.E. Hinton, not me!
A/N: I love the outsiders and R&R tons of the fanfictions, but haven't written one yet. I know it's another 'Curtis-sister fic', but I couldn't get the diea out of my head. Check it out and let me know what you think please (feel free to share anything)! Enjoy!
Summary/Taglaine: Yep it's original, but my dad was an original person...
Chapter 1:"Still the South Side"
Baby Girl Curtis." That's what the name tag said. I wanted to tell them: "Hey! That's wrong." I wanted to show them that it was spelled: 'Babygirl', as one word just like my brothers were: Sodapop and Ponyboy. I wanted to punch them in the face too for grabbing my arm and swinging me about like that, but I didn't do any of it. My knees were too shaky and my voice wouldn't work. Truth be told, I was too scared to do or say much of anything. I just let them slap a name tag with my name misspelled right on me and push me out the door. My brothers were just standing there. 'What's wrong with them?' I thought. 'Why weren't they trying to save me? Why were they standing by letting them take me away forever?' They could have fought them, they could have won. But they didn't. They just stood there as the social workers pulled me away.
That was about two months ago, but I still see it every night like it was yesterday. I call out to them: "Pony! Darry! Soda!" They still don't do anything. I still wake on the south side of town.
Here, my new bedroom is beautiful. It's all soft pink and yellow, with a bed on a princess-white frame and a soft canopy around me. I have a radio, a shelf of dolls and books, and a wardrobe full of clothes. I hate it all.
My favorite color is blue, like the sky in clear summer, not soft pink and yellow. I hate playing with dolls and wearing dresses. I prefer playing baseball and wearing overalls. I do like the radio, coloring books, and reading. Mostly that's all I do in my room: read black Beauty, Treasure Island, and The Secret Garden, color books, and listen to the radio. I remind myself of Ponyboy. Sometimes, if I'm sure no one will hear me, I pretend that he's there with me and talk to him. Just like this, at night I say goodnight to them like they're lying right there, but when I wake up I'm alone. When I wake up I'm still on the south side of town.
When I get up in the morning, I am supposed to get washed a dressed before breakfast. At home, I stumbled into the kitchen and only talked or moved further after I ate. Now I am expected to 'look presentable' at the breakfast table. I learned that one the hard way. Stumbling downstairs with your hair unbrushed in this house earns you a look like you're an uncivilized ape, a smack upside your head by the your new 'mom', and an ear drug upstairs by the nanny to the bathroom where you are instructed on how, and when, to get ready. If you are on time and decent looking, you get a hug, kiss, and a quiet peaceful breakfast.
Breakfast tables here are not a place for cake, beer, or horsing around- not that I ever tried any of that. Well, I did ask for cake but got pancakes and a lecture on how 'dignified, well-raised' people eat balanced breakfasts. I can have anything I want so long as it's appropriate: pancakes, muffins, cereal, oatmeal, omelets, eggs, or toast. With it, I am welcome to drink milk or juice. Important rules to note are that I must use table manners, stay quiet, and be done eating on time. On the bright side, while it's boring, I don't have to do dishes or even clear my plate. Every morning, sitting quietly, I think of my brothers running around our house on the north side like crazy, trying to get ready, eating eggs (like mine but with chocolate cake), being as loud and obnoxious as ever with the whole gang probably standing around sipping beer. I wonder if they think about me and what I may be doing or eating. I close my eyes and mentally promise Darry that if he comes and gets me, I will do the dishes everyday and never once complain. But of course, he doesn't hear me; and of course, he is not thinking about me; and, of course, he hasn't magically came and saved me. When I open my eyes, I am still on the south side of town.
A/N: Well? It will get better but I need reviews! I'm open to suggestions and thanks for reading my first!