SE Hinton owns the Shepards and The Outsiders.

Seven-

"What are we waiting for, Tim?"

"A train."

"Mission accomplished. There's a million damned trains."

Curly Shepard hopped up and down on his toes, trying to warm up or trying to burn off excess energy. Tim didn't know for sure. Tim wasn't cold, but Curly always seemed to feel everything harder and sharper than everyone else.

They were perched on the flat roof of a warehouse that overlooked the switchyard. Tim had discovered, when he stopped to think about it, that despite living most of his life within spitting distance of the tracks, he didn't really know a lot about how they came and went, unloaded, or switched cars. He decided to spend an evening studying the switchyard, and- against his better judgement- he brought Curly along for company.

"It's a particular train, dumbass," Tim told him.

"Where from?"

"Out east."

"We're in the middle of the damned country, Tim," Curly said. "Half of it is east of here."

"And I thought you failed Geography."

Curly grinned. He seemed almost proud of himself.

"I got a D," he told Tim.

Tim gave in: "Whatever train from the east coast gets here at three."

"What's on it?" Curly asked.

"Elephants and fucking clowns," Tim said. "It's a circus train."

That shut Curly up, and gave Tim quiet and time to ponder what a circus this was becoming. Should have never sent a girl to do a job- any job because shit like this happened to girls. It wasn't their fault- they were just easy to overpower. And now she was refusing any kind of kick-back which kept him in the position of perpetually owing her something. The door would never shut between them if Tim couldn't find a way of paying her back and a way of making her accept it.

"What're we going to do when the train comes,Tim?" Curly was only capable of shutting up for about two minutes.

"We're going to look at it. Observe its habits."

"I can tell you right now what it's habits are, Tim. It rolls in here on a a track, sits still for a bit, and then rolls back out again."

Jesus, Curly. "We're going to see what they unload, how many guys it takes to unload it, if they unload from the front or the back. Then we're going to go home."

Robbing the alcohol from the train was going to take some time. They'd need a truck, and a few guys. Tim would know exactly how many when he saw how many workers were there to unload the car. Already, he figured at least four: one to hold a gun on the workers, one to stand look-out, two to unload the crates. The look-out could keep himself in the shadows and slip away unseen, so he didn't figure into the plan for getting out of the railyard. One of the guys loading crates could drive. The gunman would hop in the truck last, and then off they'd go.

What he didn't know- besides how many men would be in the railyard- was if any of them would be armed. He wasn't above shooting someone (and he figured that made him the safest bet for the gunman- he could trust himself not to freeze), but he didn't fancy the idea of getting shot. Or seeing his little brother get shot.

Tim figured they only had one shot at it. Once they tried it, the railyard would increase security. It had to be done right the first time. The potential score made it worth the while, but the set-up would take time.

He snuck a look at Curly, who was laying on his stomach leaning over the side of the roof. He was hacking up mouthfuls of spit and then seeing how far down he could let them go and and draw them back up without them breaking. Watching made Tim a little nauseous.

Curly was going to want to play a part in the robbery. Just watching trains wouldn't be enough for him. No way was he going to be the gunman, or the look-out either. Curly was too distractible to be the lookout. He'd have to one of the guys unloading the crates, which meant that he was one of the most likely to get shot at, if the rail workers were packing.

Tim inwardly kicked himself for growing a conscience. He blamed it on the girl. That was where it had all begun. Some Soc had played rough with her, and now Tim felt responsible for it. The feeling was like a virus in his body: now he was worried about Curly too. He should have never sent a girl to do a guy's job.

"What's with you and the redhead?" Dwight asked. He was trying to sound nonchalant about it- like he was just making conversation- but the fact that he'd asked at all made it clear that the question was anything but random.

"Nothing," Tim said. "Why? You thinkin' about taking a shot at her?"

"Thinking about it," Dwight replied, still trying to sound like nothing- not his pride, certainly not his heart- was hanging on it.

"Two-Bit'll probably take upon himself to try and whip your ass."

Dwight smirked. "Yeah, let him try. That'd be half the fun of it. Might be all the fun of it if she turns out to be no fun herself."

Tim considered whether or not Dwight could take Two-Bit. Two-Bit was sturdy and cleared six foot tall. Dwight was as tall, but lanky like Tim. Dwight's best hope was that Two-Bit would be in the later stages of a drunk when he made up his mind that Dwight needed to be put in his place.

Tim's thoughts wandered to Donna. Girls always acted mad when guys fought over them, but Tim was never so sure.

"She's got a hell of a mouth on her," Tim said. He didn't know if that counted as "fun" or not in Dwight's universe.

"Yeah, well, I reckon she could be cajoled into making good use of it."

Now it was Tim who was in the position of saying something he meant without sounding too much like he meant it:

"Go easy with the cajoling," he said.

Dwight was not so easily fooled.

"Go easy? Since when have you been all for goin' easy on a girl? We you thinking of making a move on her, man?"

"No. I- unlike you- got no room in my life for mouthy girls. If I want to listen to a girl give me lip, I'll go over to my ma's place and see my sister. No. Just we got to live with Two-Bit, is all."

"He can't whip all of us. Maybe one of us if he caught us on our lonesome, but we could put him back in his place."

Tim shrugged.

"Yeah, but ain't just so much more pleasant when we can all just party and drink and smoke up together without wondering when one of us is going to get jumped?"

Dwight smirked.

"You feeling alright, man?" He asked, grinning at Tim. "Maybe you oughta go lay down or something. Since when did you worry about getting jumped by anyone? Since when did you shy away from a fight?"

"Ain't shying away from shit," Tim said. "I'm just saying it ain't worth it- not over a girl. Curly's friends with that little Curtis kid. That sort of puts us on their good side. They might come in handy sometime."

"I'd rather have that girl come in handy," Dwight said.

"Do what you want," Tim grumbled, and then wished he hadn't. Lately, it seemed that every time he told someone to just go do what they wanted, they actually did it.

"Well, then how about I pick her up tonight?" Dwight asked. "You can take a night off from your Petro Club gig. Maybe you can use the time to further develop your relationship with Two-Bit and the Curtis boys."

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Tim said.

Undeterred, Dwight walked away, whistling and jingling his keys between his fingers.