I did want to get this chapter up earlier, but, as you can see, that didn't quite work out. I just got really busy, between my school dance (that I had to help organize and stuff), Easter, and just life in general, I didn't get time to put this up earlier. But, hey, later's better than never, right? (Forgive me...)

On a much, much, much happier note: you guys are amazing! Truly amazing! I got a total of 15 reviews for the last chapter! You have no idea how much that means to me! I think that's the most I've ever gotten for an entire chapter before… so thanks so much, my lovely reviewers! You know how to put a smile on a girl's face! :D

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I'm not a billionaire who can magically buy characters and book rights off of people. I'd own a lot of books if I could… and I'd be rich… so, yeah…

It had been an exceptionally long day at school for Ponyboy. And that was coming from the twelve year old who enjoyed almost every aspect of going there everyday. From learning, to reading and writing, there really wasn't much he could find to hate. Today, however, was a different story. Maybe it was because of the fact that it was his first day at Tulsa Junior High School, or maybe it was because he didn't know a single person there, minus Jimmy Sheldon, his next-door neighbor, but it seemed as if the minute-hand on the clock never seemed to move, and the day ticked on for what felt like a week.

He was happy to finally be out of that building, especially that he was able to walk home (his brothers didn't know where it was to pick him up, and their mother didn't have a car to come and get him, what with his father at work and all). The fresh air felt good, especially after being stuck in that cluttered and cramped building all day, and there was a slight breeze which cooled off his sweaty face: the school seemed ungodly hot in the uncomfortable Oklahoma sun.

A backpack slung over his shoulder, Ponyboy attempted to navigate his way home, trying to remember the way he walked to school and hoped he wouldn't get lost. Everything looked familiar to what he had seen this morning, so that was a good start.

After a few minutes, though, the buildings looked foreign and unfamiliar. When he passed by a few homes in this area, they weren't the shiny, brand new buildings that he had seen in his neighborhood. Instead, they were rundown, tiny places that barely looked as if they could fit a family of three or four, with places that desperately needed repairs barely patched up by some amateur attempt to keep it safe against any weather. Any shops or businesses were ancient looking, deprived of both a necessary cleaning and a decent amount of customers. The kids, too, were also different from the ones in Pony's neighborhood. Instead of clean cut, madras-wearing teenagers he had seen wandering around in Mustangs the past couple off days, there were kids with greased back hair, leather jackets, and torn jeans.

Yes, Ponyboy was most definitely lost.

He searched the streets for the next couple of minutes, hoping to find some sign of familiarity, some sign that there might've been a chance that he actually had gone the right way, and just didn't recognize it at first. All hope of that was lost after about five minutes, when the buildings became even more rundown and desolate looking than earlier on.

Nothin' better ta do than headin' back, he thought, in hopes that maybe, if he turned himself around, Ponyboy would find where he went wrong in heading home and actually get to the place he was supposed to be.

He turned himself around and headed back through the desolate town, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders bent slightly in hopes that he would appear insignificant to the many kids that were beginning to look at him strangely. He hoped to get to some type of open business or something, so he could ask for directions back home. Ponyboy hoped one would appear soon, too, because all of the stares were starting to give him the creeps.

He could only pray that, in the time it took him to find some type of place to ask for directions, none of these kids came up to him. They were very frightening in some way that Ponyboy couldn't place. It wasn't in their appearance- there were a decent amount of kids that wore leather jackets and messed up jeans in Texas, too. It was just… the way they stared. Like they were locked up animals in a cage that were ready to spring themselves free at any moment and attack. As if Pony was their pray, and they would do whatever it took to capture him.

He figured he would get off safely, though. He could see a the sign of a gas station just a little ways ahead. If he could just make it there, he would be fine and get home okay, and away from these kids that looked ready to take a go at him at any second.

Just as the gas station came even closer into view, a hand clamped down on Ponyboy's shoulder.

He stifled a shocked yelp as a rough voice behind him said, "'Ey, Soc, what the hell do ya think yer doin' on our side of the nieghborhood?"

Ponyboy couldn't give an answer for two reasons. One: the person standing behind him- or, rather, in front of him, since Pony had turned around the second this guy had finished speaking- scared him to death, with his white blonde hair that fell into his piercing blue eyes- eyes that seemed to glow with anger and hate. His lips were curved back to reveal teeth that were a bit too sharp, and didn't have a problem being used if the younger boy didn't answer his question. Two: he had absolutely no idea what a "Soc" was. A nickname for new kids, maybe? Or something the Tulsa kids called the people they didn't know?

The grip on Ponyboy's shoulder grew tighter, and the mystery boy's eyes blazed a bit brighter. "Huh, Soc? Ya gonna answer me, ya no good asshole? Or 're ya gonna stand there lookin' like an idiot?"

Ponyboy took a small, deep breathe in hopes to calm his fears against this guy. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, avoiding the blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul. "I…um, I'm lost. I'm new, an' I dun' really know my way 'round this place." He added the part about being new in some small hopes to gain a shrivel of sympathy from the teenager.

However, that plan backfired. The blonde let out a cruel, low laugh and Ponyboy looked up to see his eyes had even more of an angry fire burning to them. "'Ey, Tim! Ya hear this kid? Says he lost or somethin'. An' on our side'a the tracks, too! Think we should help 'im out a bit?"

A tall, lean teenager with dark hair and blue eyes suddenly appeared behind the one standing in front of Ponyboy, and a grin took over his face in a way that the twelve year old couldn't help but think was like the Cheshire Cat's from Alice in Wonderland. "I 'unno, Dal. He looks awful tough, don't he? Maybe his big, bad Soc friends are comin' to teach us Greasers a lesson."

The blond boy- that Ponyboy guessed was who Time called "Dal"- had a look on his face of mock-contemplation. "Ya think we should beat 'em at their own game?"

Tim's eyes widened in a look of faux horror. "Why, Dally, ya don't mean hurtin' this poor kid that's such a good help to society, do ya?"

A cruel smile flashed on Dally's face. "Since when're Soc kids ever poor?"

Ponyboy could see that they were ready to jump him. He knew the look flashing in both sets of blue eyes: the cruel, uncaring look that had the strongest undertone of anger. He'd seen it in Texas, driving by on the streets with his brothers, seeing random, innocent strangers getting attacked by some kids he knew from school, and Darry and Soda telling him not to get involved when he said the three of them should help the out-numbered kid. The pain the guy was going through looked to be enormous, but Pony never thought he'd have to deal with the same thing. Especially without his brothers or someone there to help him… but that had to be karma in some way. Not helping all those people in Texas was finally catching up with him in Tulsa.

Pony attempted to crouch himself down, to try to make himself smaller. Anything so long as the attack that he knew was about to come wouldn't hurt nearly as much as he was imagining it would. He curled himself up as much as he could while standing up, arms out and ready in both a defensive manner and ready to throw a punch like he was sure he would.

… Only, he never felt any sort of impact from either of the two teenagers. Instead, he lifted his head to see Tim had wandered off, and was replaced by a small, lean dark haired boy in a jeans jacket.

"C'mon, Dally, leave the kid alone," the new kid said in a soft but strong voice.

Dally stared at him, all anger drained from his face and replaced by a tad bit of annoyance on what was now a mask of no emotions. "Ya know this is a Soc kid, right, Johnny? Just like one'a the guys that jumped ya a few months ago? He jus' moseyed on into our side'a the woods, 'n you wanna let 'im go?" The unemotional façade was dropped for a second, and Dally showed incredulity in both his voice and on his face at the mention of letting Ponyboy wander off unharmed.

Johnny, on the other hand, paled when the other mentioned whatever had happened a few months ago, but quickly recovered. "He ain't one of the guys, Dal. We ain't got no reason to go after 'im. Ya really think a kid this young's gonna jump me back a few months ago, when he was even younger?"

Pony's age was a touchy subject for him, it always had been being the youngest of three boys and all, but especially now that both of his brothers were teenagers- and older one's at that, at sixteen and eighteen- while he was only twelve. Hearing the unknown kid bring up how young he looked made his insides bubble with anger, but he made the hardest attempt to subdue it- this kid was trying to help him; Ponyboy had no reason to be angry at him.

Ice-blue eyes glazed over with anger yet again. "You're a little shit, ya know that, Johnny?" he hissed out, and turned once again to Ponyboy, "You're damn lucky this time, Socy. Next time, ya won't get away. I'll beat yer sorry rich ass so you damn well can't move for a week." Turning on his heel and popping a cigarette in his mouth, Dally walked off after giving a shove to Johnny, disappearing down the street.

Ponyboy turned to who he remembered Dally saying was Johnny, a weary grin on his face. "Uh, thanks… fer, ya know, helpin' me out."

Johnny shrugged, staring down at the twelve year old. "No big. Kids don't needa get involved."

"Well, ya know, I still thought he was gunna kick my ass in with that other guy."

Dark hair flew across his face as the other shook his head. "Nah. They ain't bad guys. They wouldn't beat a kid."

"Uh, I'm Ponyboy, by the way." He figured he may as well introduce himself to the person that, in his mind, had basically just saved his life.

"Johnny." The boy took out his own cigarette, and, for a brief second, Pony got a glance of his dark eyes. There was something in them that the twelve year old couldn't place, but it looked like some type of ancient sadness. A hurt that was unmistakable. "You should really get back home, kid." Johnny's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Ponyboy looked up.

"Don't know the way."

"You live on the west side, right?" At Pony's confirmation, Johnny continued, "I know parta the way back." He gave basic instructions about where to turn left and right and go straight at, using small structures that Pony figured would be hard to miss, like how he had to turn right at a house with a shrine for chickens on South Street, and keep going straight until he hit a burnt-down dinner, where he would turn left on, and hopefully find himself on familiar ground.

"Right, thanks, Johnny," Ponyboy said once he had all the directions down, "fer, ya know, everythin'"

Johnny didn't offer a response, and Ponyboy tugged his backpack tighter onto his shoulders as he headed off through the streets, that, this time, would hopefully lead him home.

In all honesty, Johnny wasn't sure why he helped that Soc kid. Nearly all of the time, he had no problem with Dally, or any one of the rest f his gang or the Greaser population, go out to jump Socs. It wasn't as if he enjoyed the fact that people were getting hurt, it was just the way things were, the way it had always been. Socs hated Greasers, Greasers hated Socs, and they had a very high tendency to hurt each other, to put it in nice terms. But, something about that kid, Ponyboy, just made Johnny have to help him.

Maybe it was because of the fact that he was young, that he was small and scared. It was obvious the kid had never been jumped in any way before, because anyone that had would never act that scared even on the second time around. After one time, you begin to wait for it to happen again, and you aren't as afraid when it happens the second time around. That kid was innocent- he hadn't been jumped yet, hadn't been hurt by the opposite social class. And, even though he was apart of said opposite class, Johnny would be damned if he just sat back and watched that kid get hurt.

After all, Johnny knew what it was like to be hurt young. He grew up with parents that hurt him on a daily basis- whether it was actually beating him, or just ignoring his existence entirely. He also knew other kids like him who had been through the same thing, like Dally, who revealed very little about his life before Tulsa except for abusive parents. However, the blonde became tough to the core from his childhood- Johnny didn't. Dally had no problem with having kids go through exactly what he did: Johnny never wanted to see any kid in pain, no matter how much he acted indifferent. He knew the affects, he knew the damages. And that Ponyboy kid wouldn't be another kid being beaten on if he could help it, whether or not the beating was done by one of his friends, one of his brothers, for a lack of better words, or not.

Ponyboy was an innocent kid, anyone could see that by the look of fear in his eyes, no matter how much the kid tried to hide it. Johnny had been innocent like that once, too, before his parents beat him and he started getting jumped by Socs. And he'd be damned if he just sat back and watched another kid get hurt: he knew all too well how a story like that went.

I wanted to make Johnny a bit more... what's the word?... courageous in this. I'm sorry if he's OOC, but I thought, if he can stand up to Dally in the book over some Soc girls, he can do the same in my book for a Soc kid, right? So, yeah, the whole second part is basically just him explaining his reasoning behind helping Ponyboy, and yada yada yada. I think he might be OOC, but, hey, that's life. Any how: I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter! I'm so sorry for the long wait! I hope you all forgive me enough to leave a review... (wink wink). Lemme know what you all thought! :)

On a slightly different note: Did you guys know it was the hundredth anniversary of the Titanic's sinking? On April 14-15, 1912, the ship that was deemed unsinkable, well, sank- and almost 2,000 lives were lost. I'm just writing this because of the fact that this story is just so... remarkable to me, and I just enjoy learning about it: it's a legend that's lived on for a century, and something I've been interested in for as long as I can remember. I love the whole story of it, and I decided to post this little note up to let everyone know about it's 100th anniversary, and in honor of all the people that passed. That's all :)