Um, wow. I never thought I'd be doing this again. For those of you who don't remember, I once had a fanfic called Time Won't Let Me. Well, a little while back I got back into The Outsiders and saw the fanfic, and looked it over, and replanned it in my head. Then a few days ago I decided to write it down, and offically redo the whole thing. I still have the orginal version on the site, and if you want to read that, you can check it out. Same title, the plot's a bit similar, same characters pretty much, just a better written version, I 'd say. I should stop rambling and so um, without further ado,

Disclaimer: Yea, I own S.E Hintons works. No seriously, She's was in my attic during the whole writing process. See? My names on that one page in that teenie tiny print. You don't see it? Well that's 'cause I really don't own her works. Just a fan.

Time Won't Let Me

I ran my fingers over the dusted key's of the piano,accidentally pressing down too hard on one of the keys. The loud noise that was let out made me jump in fright. It was empty in my silent house around this time, as it was a Friday, and school was just about to be lettin' out.

No, I wasn't sick; I was on a mission. A mission to catch the phone before my brother got home. I knew the exact time the school called for absent students, and with our last name being in the C's, it wasn't too far

At exactly two fifty the phone rang, and as I predicted correctly, it was the school calling. It made little sense to me as to why the school would call in the middle of the day, as to at night,but oh well. It made it easier to erase the call this way.

I picked up the phone, not making a single sound. As soon as the monotoned voice on the other end read my name off the list, I hung up the phone. I once made the mistake of giggling, and when they found out I wasn't Darry-he's my oldest brother-I got into some real big trouble.

I checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was two fifty-five and grabbed my knapsack and headed out the door, not bothering to lock it. We never lock our door to our house; we always leave it open for anyone of my brother's buddies who needs a place to stay.

See, we live in a poor neighborhood. Most here don't got much money and nice family's and stuff, so our house is like "safe." I didn't like it so much at first, 'cause there were always random people on our couch, and it was awkward to wake up in the morning wondering who could be the guy on our sofa, but I got accustomed to it.

The only time it ever truly bothered me was when some guy from Tim Shepard's gang was over. I didn't know him to well, but by the looks of it, he wanted to get to know me. I was only twelve at the time, and it was really frightening to have a tall, hardcore, greaser staring at you. Especially one that had a record that made Dallas Winston's look like a silly time out.

He kept coming on to me, even though he was about seventeen, and I was only twelve. My guess was he was drunk or somethin' 'cause he always slurred when he was tryin' to talk to me, and he kept asking me if I wanted my muffin buttered.

I didn't know what that meant at the time; I almost said yes. But since I didn't know the guy, I was guessing it wasn't something I should say yes to. So I decided to tell him off in a tough way, the way my older brother used.

Unfortunately, the only "insult" I could come up with was the term greaser, and that isn't even an insult in our side of town. I coulda called him a Soc, but I knew it was a lie, and I'd probably be dead. He looked like he carried more than a knife on him.

Oh yeah, I don't think I've mentioned it, and if I did I'm sorry. My brother says I always am scatterbrained and forgets a lot, but Greasers are what we call kids from our side of town. The East side.

Greasers are poor, like I said. We don't have good home lives and we're just tryin' to survive in this world like everyone else. It just takes us a different way. We sometimes steal and stuff, but thats only because those prices are so high and every thing's just so expensive. We're always the ones who are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I don't mean I do that stuff, my older brother will kill me. Our parents died a few months ago in some auto wreck, and ever since every thing's been topsey turvey in our house. My oldest brother Darrel,who we call Darry got to be our guardian as long as the state says. Basically as long as we don't screw up. Well, me.

I'm the big screw up in our family,well, that's how I see it. Accordin' to my brothers, I just open my mouth when I'm not supposed to, and tend to say stuff I don't really mean. I have a short temper and Darry says that's just my way of getting over things.

Like, he said that my temper was how I was getting over the death, like how my other brother Ponyboy-yes,that's his real name- would just go live in a vacuum for months and close everyone out of his little fantasy world.

Ponyboy is still enclosed in his alternate universe, while I still have my temper. I bet sometimes Darry just wishes the both of us would cry it out like our brother Sodapop, and then not ever mention it again.

I looked over my shoulder to see if I could see my oldest brother's car, and luckily, he wasn't home yet. I made my way to the end of the street anyways, and made sure I looked as if I were walking home from school.

Then I tripped on an uneven piece of sidewalk, and found my self sitting on the pavement. I was greeted by none other than by the hand of my best friend pulling me up.

He looked at me. "Where were you in math? Thanks to you, I had to figure out algebraic equations on my own."

I shrugged. "I was sick. Why? The teacher didn't ask did he?"

"No.."

"If he did, tell em it was 'women problems' he'll never know."

"Was it?"

"Nah, that was last week."

"Geez, you're beginning to cut as much as Sodapop did."

I grinned. That, was a compliment. Well, in my eyes.

"If you wanna talk about unruly siblings, let's talk about yours. Your sister, she's a slut."

"Hey now, she's a greaser. Nota slut."

I just laughed at him and gave him a playful shove. He returned the favor.

"You got smokes at your place? I'm itchin' to have one."

I tried to put on a serious face, but it came out all sarcastic. " If you keep smokin' like that Just, it'll give you lung cancer and you ain't gonna live to be a hundred and get that letter from the president."

My best friend raked a hand through his sand colored hair."Shoot, you know as good as me you smoke more, and besides, no one's gonna live over a hundred. It's like living until 2000 something, and the world ain't gonna be around that long."

I couldn't help but shake my head at what he was saying. It was true; I did smoke a lot more than him. I only tried it by accident once when my twin brother Ponyboy left a stick on his dresser. I wanted to know if it was as cool as people thought it was, and with just my luck I liked it.

I didn't know what he meant about the age thing, though. I mean, I knew it was possible to live a hundred years. My mom's great aunt did, at least, that's what Mom told me one time. I don't know about the president thing.

We pulled open the front door of my house, letting it fling shut. "Shit man, is Ponyboy here?" He asked me, eying the stack of books my brother left this morning.

As much as I loved my best friend to death, I hated the fact he hated my brother. Justin could not stand Ponyboy, and vice versa. They hated each other, I swear, if you left both in a room together alone for more than a day, one would end up dead.

I couldn't truly understand why they hated each other, they were more alike than they both knew. Besides the real difference where my family were pure greasers with the problems and everything, and Justin's family were just living in this part of town, they were similar.

Ponyboy did like movies and books, as did I, and Justin disliked books. But that wasn't a good enough reason to despise someone. It's something I guess a girl will never understand. It's some sort of guy hatred thing.

I went inside to my brothers side of his room and picked out the last cancer stick in the box. Guess Justin and I were sharin'.

"No stupid, it's Friday, he has some sort of track meeting after school. Coach wants to check everyones grades I reckon."

"Oh yeah, what'd ya get on your report card?"

"Dunno. Since I came late, then cut, I didn't get it. But Pony probably has mine. So, whatcha get on yours?" I asked, snatching the paper from his hands monitoring each grade. "How did you get a C in gym class?"

"Try being beat up in the locker room, and you'll know. Coach favors guys on school teams more than anything."

"I probably got a B in gym anyways. I'm terrible at any sport that isn't Volleyball. I know for a fact I failed Home Ec. though."

"How do you fail Home Economics? All you do is sew and bake cakes and be all motherly and junk. If you suck at that class, why did you even take it?"

I shrugged. "Darry's idea. He thinks it'll be a good way for me to learn my mothering skills, since Mom's not here to teach em and I have no mother around. Besides, it's like telling the social worker you don't need a mother to teach a girl how to be a mother. I really need to pass that class, but I just can't sew right, which is the only thing the teacher likes to teach." I sighed and took a drag on my cigarette. "This sucks."

Justin grabbed the cancer stick from my lips as the two of us perked up at the sound of my name being called.

"Misty?"

I winced. I wasn't a fan of my name, but I'm glad it is what it is. When my mom was pregnant with my oldest brother, my dad really wanted to name him something unique, but Mom refused. So Mom made him a deal that as long as she could name her first born son and daughter something "normal," Dad could name the rest of their kids anything he wants.

Mom kept her promise too. When it came time for their second child, Dad picked the name Sodapop, and Mom didn't budge. She made a promise, and stuck to it. Besides, Sodapop fits Sodapop perfectly.

When Mom was pregnant with Pony and I, the fight arose again. Dad really wanted to name me something like "Angelface Marie Curtis," but Mom was not going to let that happen. For the longest time she was dead set on naming me "Angela Margaret," and I'm glad Darry did what he did.

My Mom was asking my brother what he'd rather have his sister be called, and he mentioned something about this kid in his class who had a little sister named Angela. He said how the kid said the name meant "Angel" and how his little sister was the exact opposite.

Then he got distracted or something and said "Wow, it sure has been misty this Summer." Mom and Dad both liked how that sounded and put the two names together,added in my middle name, and thus, my name was formed.

Misty Summer Margaret Curtis. I cringe thinking about it. I'd go by my middle name, but I really dislike the name Margaret. So to kill myself the torture of walking around as Misty Summer, I dropped the second half of my first name.

Misty wasn't so bad a name. I guess it was less original than Ponyboy, but not to the point everyone had the same name as me.

I waited for the voice to call again, and then recognized it as my brother. "Yea?" I called out to him, walking out from our backyard into the house.

"Why weren't you in first block? Mr. Syme was wonderin' where you were." Despite the grade level difference, my brother and I shared one class together: Creative Writing. His English teacher also taught Creative Writing.

"Didn't feel like goin',"I tried to reply toughly, even though I was blushing in embarrassment. Ponyboy looked at me.

"Meaning you fell asleep and missed your alarm? Does Darry know?"

"Pretty much, and nope. Don't plan on tellin' him either."

"Hey Mist where'd ya-oh." Justin came in the room, and stared at Ponyboy, cancer stick still in his hand and said to him harshly "Ponyboy."

Ponyboy looked a bit uncomfortable at Justin's arrival and stayed silent. I glanced back and forth between my brother and my best friend as Justin spoke up, "I'm goin' back into the back yard, catch you later..hopefully."

Justin walked back into my backyard as Ponyboy replied, "Does he always have to be here?"

I looked back at him lying out there on the grass and shrugged. "He's here as much as Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny are. He's my friend, Pony."

"I know, but there's just something I don't like about him. He just doesn't seem right."

"Whatever. Did you get my report card?"

"I did. You know Darry won't like you failin' Home Economics, Misty. Neither will that social worker lady."

"I ain't gonna fail,Pone. No worries." I gave my brother a reassuring smile as he looked back at me.

"I'm going to the movies, you wanna come? That new Paul Newman movie's out."

I looked back at Justin smoking under the oak tree in the backyard and shook my head. Besides, I wasn't big on Paul Newman.

Pony shrugged, "suit yourself" and walked off.

Man, now maybe I do wish I went with him.