If you're on this set of fanfiction stories, then you are already familiar with The Outsiders. I only recently discovered the movie, and the TV show, and

my writing muse was off like a rocket. If you're here, you know the set-up of the Curtis family; who's who, and all of that. This is my take on life

in the Curtis household, with an added family member. Juniper Marie Curtis. I hear you groaning. Yep, another sister fic for the Curtis guys. Anyway,

give reading it a whirl. It sure was fun to scribble down. I think if you give it a try, I might be able to bring June to life along with her brothers, and

the other guys. Let me know what you think.

Outsiders

I was with my brother the morning that it first began. Well, I was with one of my brothers. I have three of them. This particular

morning I was with my second oldest brother, Soda. (His real name is Soda Pop). We'd gone to the grocery store, and it was

while we were loading the groceries into the back of the truck that one of my friends, Rhonda, came running up to us.

"June!" she said, breathless from running, and clutching on my arms in her excitement. "You have to come to the drugstore! They're

going to have a drawing, and the deadline to register is in an hour!"

"A drawing for what?" I asked her.

"A bunch of things! A television, and a lot of other things!" Rhonda said, practically jumping up and down.

"A television?" I asked, catching onto her excitement. "Wow!" I turned to Soda. "Soda, did you hear?"

"Yeah, I heard," Soda said, coming up to stand beside us.

"Can we go over there?" I asked him. "To register?"

"Aw, Junie, there'll be a million people registering for that stuff," Soda protested.

"Maybe you'll be the big winner, Soda," Rhonda told him, calming down enough to tilt her head and try to

look alluring for Soda. (All my friends act like that around Soda, cause he's so darn cute, so I'm used to it). And, besides, even though

he's always nice to them, he'd never really date any of them for real. (Soda's 17, and he'd think 13 or 14 year old girls are far too

young for him).

"Yeah, maybe," Soda said, grinning at Rhonda.

"So, can we go?" I asked him, again.

"Sure. Why not?" he said, carelessly.

The drugstore was a madhouse, for sure. It was crammed full of people. Once I was at the counter where the prizes were listed,

and you could register, I got excited, too. Not as hyper as Rhonda, maybe, but still excited.

"Look, Soda," I said, poking him in the ribs with my fingers. "A television, and fishing poles. And binoculars."

"The television would be great," Soda said, studying the picture on the poster. "It's a 19 inch, too."

"Pony and Darry would flip," I said, naming our other two brothers.

"And Two-Bit," Soda added. "Watching Mickey Mouse on that television."

"Let's register," I said. "You do it, too, so we'll have double the chances."

We both wrote down our names and put it in the jar in front of the television picture. We moved on down the counter.

"Binoculars?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, and I handed him another scrap of white paper. We both registered for those and moved on.

"Fishing poles?"

"Naw," he told me.

I knew what he meant. I've never known Soda, or Pony Boy, or Darry, to ever go fishing. Or any of the other guys, either.

Two-Bit, Steve, Tim, none of them.

"We could still register," I said, and then leaned in closer to say quieter, "If we won them, we could always sell them later."

Soda nodded in acceptance to that, and we both scrawled our names for the fishing poles.

The last prize was a picture of a camera. A really nice camera. The kind that costs a bunch of money.

I handed Soda a piece of paper.

When we'd both finished with the camera registry, I paused, and tugged on Soda's shirt as he started to walk away.

"What?" he asked.

I handed him several more of the white slips of blank paper. I raised my eyebrows at him, and then started writing my

name over and over, putting it in the television jar, at least six more times. Soda was rolling his eyes

but he did it, too. Except when he started to put more in the fishing pole and binocular jars, I stopped him, and gestured

to the television one.

After that, we worked our way towards the front door of the store, thru the crowd, but Soda found somebody to talk to.

A girl, naturally. I didn't recognize her, but I went on back outside, and began walking towards the truck, left where we'd parked

it at.

"Hey, June!" Rhonda was calling after me. I turned around to wait for her and she handed me a bottle of grape Nehi. She was

drinking one, too.

"Thanks," I told her.

"Where's Soda Pop?" she asked me.

"Talking to a girl, what else?" I quipped.

We went to put the tail gate down on our truck, and hitched ourselves up, sitting there and drinking our pop.

After a few minutes, we'd finished off our cold drinks, and Rhonda reached into her skirt pocket and took out a pack

of cigarettes. She shook one out, and then held the pack out to me.

"Want one?" she offered.

"When did you start smoking?" I asked her.

"This week," she said, and I nearly laughed. She was totally serious, though, so I held it back.

"Here," she said, shaking the pack at me again.

"No, thanks," I said, and watched as she lit up her cigarette. She took a couple of puffs, and she didn't even

cough. I was impressed.

Pony Boy smokes. Or he used to, anyway. Now, not so much. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him smoke. Darry was

always after him to stop. He'd started before our parents died, and then for a year or so after that, he smoked all the time. The

last year he'd tapered off, though.

I'd never really had any desire to do it, though. Mostly because I knew Darry wouldn't like it if I did.

Okay. That makes me sound like a real Soc. A goody-two shoes. A girl who always does what her family wants

her to do.

That's not true. At least not totally true. I'm definitely not a Soc. And I'm not a goody-goody, either. The part that

is true is that I do try to do what my family wants. Or mostly. Not if it's something that I feel strongly about. In that case,

I would stand my ground. Or try to. But, with the smoking, I didn't really want to do it, anyway, so if it made Darry happy that

I didn't, then that was a benefit.

Darry has enough to worry about. That's what Soda tells Pony and me. Anyway...

I went back to drinking my Nehi, and swinging my legs back and forth, watching Rhonda smoke, and waiting for

Soda.

When Soda did finally come, about twenty minutes later, Rhonda was puffing on her second cigarette. I didn't miss the way

she sort of sat back and crossed her legs, and thrust her chest out as he was walking our way. I rolled my eyes.

Rhonda should just save all that sex appeal for some other guy. It was wasted on Soda. At least, with her it was wasted. Another

girl, an older one, and I'm sure Soda would appreciate it.

"Hey, Rhonda," Soda said. "When did you start sucking on the cancer sticks?" (Referring, of course, to the cigarette that

Rhonda was holding, trying to look all sultry).

"I've been smoking a while now, Soda," Rhonda told him.

"Yeah?" Soda said. "Come on, Junie, let's get goin'."

"I'm the one that's been waiting on you," I reminded him. Rhonda and I got off of the tail gate, and Soda slammed it

closed.

We offered Rhonda a ride home, and she took us up on it, and I was wise to the way Soda worked it so that

I was sitting next to him, and Rhonda was by the other door. Rhonda smoked the whole way to her house.

Once, we'd dropped her off there, we started to our home. I started to roll my window up a little, but

Soda complained. "Leave it down. I wanna get the smoke smell out of here."

"Okay," I said.

"Nothin' worse than a chick who smokes," Soda said.

"Why do you say that?" I asked him, curiously.

"Because the smoke smell gets in their hair, and everything. A girl's hair oughta smell like flowers, or somethin'. And, it's

like kissing an ash tray."

"I'll tell Rhonda you said that," I said. "That will be enough to get her to stop smoking."

"How come?"

"Because," I said, with a grin. "She thinks you're the perfect male specimen. She'd do anything you told her to do."

"Naw," he said, with a wave of his hand.

"Uh huh," I insisted. "And, if I'm ever mad at you, I know what I'm going to do. I'll let Rhonda sit in the middle." I

laughed at the look on Soda's face. I giggled so hard I nearly swallowed my gum.

"You're real funny, June-Bug," Soda told me, calling me by my family nickname. (When you have a name like Juniper, you

can't really complain about a nickname).

"I know," I said, still giggling. "I really am funny."

"Never happen," Soda said, as we pulled up onto our street. "You'd never do that to me."

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, as he parked the truck.

"You never get mad at me," he said.

I had to admit, Soda had a point there.

Outsiders