Why, hello there. Decided to read on, then? I hope so.
And a quick FYI, I know I named her after myself. I know that's pathetic. That's what happens when you can't think of a name and you're desperately in love with a fictional character. Bite me.
Thanks again to my awesome-rific beta, taekwondogrl006! Again, I encourage you to go read her stuff. It remains cooler than mine. :D
Disclaimer: I own Sarah, and nothing else. I swear.
Despite Two-Bit's crazy driving, the bell was already ringing when we pulled up into the school parking lot. I sat on the edge of my seat, the the two illegal u-turns and what would have been an autowreck had made me alert and focused, forcing me to recover from my sleepy state. I burst out of the car before it was fully stopped, leaving the door open behind me and sprinting headlong to the door. I really couldn't be late again.
I hit the door hard with my shoulder, probably giving myself a bruise as I struggled with the handle. I finally shoved the door out of the way and continued running down the white and blue halls. A few students lingered by rows of bright blue lockers, talking. They gave me strange looks as I blew past.
I skidded to a stop in front of my locker and began fumbling with the lock. I had to repeat the combination a few times and give the locker a hard shove before it finally cooperated. I threw in my bag and retrieved my history textbook, notebook, and a pencil, my mind screaming at me to hurry up. I slammed the locker shut and turned to run back down the hall to my social studies class.
Mrs. Baker raised her eyebrows when I walked in, but otherwise didn't acknowledge my tardiness. She was still scared of me. Most of the were. Just like most of my so-called 'friends' wouldn't talk to me, and the Socs were always trying to provoke me into a fight. I was glad that I didn't have lunch in the cafeteria, and didn't have to face the mortification of sitting by myself everyday.
I flopped down into my seat in the back of the room, panting. Though the table was meant for two, I sat alone. After that week, most people thought I would kill them if they sat next to me. Not that anyone would want to sit next to a greaser in the first place, but I think the incident was a contributing factor. Oh well. At least I didn't have to worry about elbow room. I threw my books onto the faux wood table and flipped my textbook to the right page.
As I listened to the lesson, I wondered why I had been failing this class for so long. This was all so basic. I answered all the questions we were assigned and was even the first one to turn them in. Sitting in my seat with nothing to do, I realized that the problem had been that I hadn't even been trying. Coming to this realization lifted a weight off my shoulders, knowing that I would try now. The thought made me smile.
Finally the bell rang again, signaling the end of first period. I loaded my books into my arms and headed for the door, shuffling slowly behind the crowd of students hurrying to get out of the classroom. I shoved my way through the crowded hallway, bodies squishing past me to get through. I felt strangely claustrophobic, like it was the first time in a long time I had been in a crowd. Had I really been that detached?
Finally reaching my locker, I quickly traded my history text for my Lit. book. I lifted the two notebooks I had written my theme in out of my bag. They felt heavy in my hand. Would this be enough to get me a C?
I slammed the locker shut and hurried off to class, trotting down the white linoleum. The hallway was still crowded, people shouting to one another and throwing things. I was shoved a few times, whether they were accidental or purposely evaded me. I opened the door to my English class, walking up to Mr. Symes' desk. I put the two notebooks down on his desk. He looked up in surprise.
"What's this?" His eyes were curious.
"The theme I was supposed to write." His eyebrows flew up to the top of his head.
"Two notebooks?" His voice was incredulous. "You're joking!" I could hear whispers starting up behind me.
"It's... Well, I think it's my best work," I said honestly. He was biting his lip.
"Well have a seat, Ponyboy," he said finally. "But it'll be a few days before I can get this back to you." I cracked a grin.
"It's alright." I turned to find a few people staring at me with shocked expressions. They lowered their gazes when I met them sourly.
I made my way to the table in the middle aisle where I-once again- sat alone. I prepared to pay attention to the lesson again, as I did in history. If I kept this up, I could end up passing this semester. I put my head down on the edge of the desk to wait for the rest of the class to fill up, playing with a rock on the floor with my toe. I studied the blue and white dots on the linoleum, making pictures in my mind that weren't there. I could hear low chatter and sounds of chairs scraping against the tile as the room filled with students. I kept my head down. I was the only greaser in advanced Lit., and had learned long ago not to attract attention to myself. I suddenly heard the chair to my left being pulled back, and looked up in surprise. No one ever sat next to me.
A Soc girl that I didn't recognize was putting her books down on the desk while pulling the chair out to sit down. I knew she was a Soc because of what she was wearing; this was no greaser girl, or even middle class. She must have been new, because I was positive I hadn't seen her before. I knew almost everyone who came here. As she sat down, I realized that she was pretty. Very pretty, in fact.
Her skin was lightly tanned, her hair waving gently to just above her waist. Her eyes matched her hair, dark brown and gleaming brightly. I straightened up a bit. She looked up at me, and her eyes grew wide and surprised for a second. I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut off by Mr. Symes beginning the lesson. I tore my eyes away from her and turned my attention to the front.
"Good morning class, I trust that you all finished the reading we started in class on your own last night..." All thoughts of the new girl were wiped from my mind as I realized that I had obviously not finished reading last night. I frantically searched the text book for the right page, and began reading quickly once I got to it.
"Ponyboy Curtis?" My head snapped up automatically at the whispered sound of my name. I turned to face the large eyes of the new girl sitting next to me. I noticed there were gold flecks in her eyes.
"Yeah, it's, erm, a strange name, I know," I replied uneasily. I could feel my ears getting red, which only made me more embarrassed. I was surprised to see her shake her head.
"That's not it," she said in a low voice. "Well, not that it isn't an original name, it certainly is, but that wasn't what I was referring to. I read a newspaper article about you."
"Oh," I muttered, understanding now. I lowered my gaze, flashbacks running through my head. I remembered back to that first night in the hospital, the reporters crowding around, the headline, 'JUVENILE DELINQUENTS TURN HEROES.'
"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed quickly, and I returned my gaze to her face, snapping out of my flashback. She had ducked her head down, but I could see the faint red in her cheeks through the veil of her hair. "You- you must not want to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"It's okay," I whispered quickly. "Really, I don't mind." I smiled reassuringly. She returned it hesitantly before we both turned our attention back to the books in front of us.
"I'm Sarah," she said suddenly, making me look up again. "It's... nice to meet you, Ponyboy." I gaped at her smile, scrambling to think of something to say. Gosh, she really was pretty.
"Um, nice to meet you too?" I finally said, showing off my superior intelligence. Not really. It sounded like a question. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a giggle, and I could feel the heat rush to my ears and neck again. My eyes met hers for a split second, and I could see a thousand questions burning behind the humor.
"You can ask about it, if you want," I said in a low voice. Her large eyes widened in surprise.
"How do you know?"
"That I'm so curious about it?"
"I can see it in your eyes," I answered truthfully without hesitation. She raised her eyebrows and chewed her lip for a minute.
"You and your friends were very brave."
"It was the right thing to do."
"I'm sorry about Johnny." I didn't even flinch at the sound of his name.
"How did Dallas take it?" I backtracked at this question. What was I supposed to say? She monitored my expression, and then lowered her eyes, her face flushed again.
"I'm sorry for asking."
I sighed. "It's fine. I might as well tell you. Dallas is dead." She gasped.
"He committed suicide?" I thought about this one. Had Dally committed suicide? Well, he had wanted to die.
"More or less," I finally answered. Her eyes widened in terror, and she looked down quickly. I looked at her curiously.
"Nothing." I thought I had a feeling about what she was thinking.
"We didn't kill him," I hedged. "We would never. He was our buddy."
She stiffened automatically.
"That wasn't what I was thinking," she snapped, but I could hear the relief in her voice. I grinned.
"We're not murderers."
"I know that." She was staring out the open window now, not meeting my gaze. I squinted into the sunlight, following the beam of dancing dust motes with my eyes. I waited for her to say something.
The bell rang, and she hopped up from her chair. Grabbing her books, she turned back to me, her skirt swishing with every movement.
"I'll see you around, Ponyboy," she said with a smile, before turning and walking out the room. By the time I finally remembered how to say something, she was gone.
For the remainder of the day, I scanned every class I walked into for her. I didn't know why. I just wanted to see her again. But she was never there. I knew it was stupid to think that we could be friends. Just like with Cherry Valance, I knew that being seen with me could ruin her reputation.
But I couldn't help but wonder if Sarah watched sunsets.
I finally caught sight of her at the end of the day, in the parking lot. She was leaning against a gleaming red car, next to a boy who must have been her older brother; he looked exactly like her. He looked just like any other Soc; nice clothes, short hair. The car was real tuff. She caught me staring at her, and a huge grin spread across her face. I could tell Steve and Two-Bit were watching me now, but couldn't do anything but gape. That made her laugh as she climbed into the passenger seat of the Corvair, and I turned, embarrassed, to climb into the back seat of Two-Bit's old car.
It was the third time that day she made me turn red.
And there she is. I like her. She's good for our little Pony, no?
Oh, and by the way, based on the reviews I got for chapter one, I've set a standard. Seven reviews gets you an update. The standard will increase as more people read and review.
So review if you like updates.