What's that? Cherry's writing out of her league for the second time in a row? You don't realize it yet, but this is another one of those stories where my own privileges might prove very clear. As an academic, I try to be sensitive and aware of what I write, but I know it's not perfect.

This story focuses on my quasi-OFC, Katie Mathews. I say quasi because as we know, the source text does mention that Two-Bit has a kid sister. This is simply my rendering of what I think she could be.

Content warnings for various period-relevant prejudices.

Away we go!

1960

It was the summer before the fifth grade, and Katie Mathews wanted to see Alice in Wonderland at the movies.

The movie theater always released old Disney classics, and though Katie had seen Alice in Wonderland before, there was something about it that sounded particularly interesting that summer when she was ten years old. She wanted her older brother, Two-Bit, to take her to the show, but he refused. At the time, he was thirteen, and he thought he had better things to do than hang out with his kid sister, like sneak a few beers with Steve Randle and act like they were smarter and more dangerous than they really were. So, Katie was made to go to the movies with her girl friends – Lilly, Carrie, Sadie, and Jane.

At the last minute, Lilly began to feel like she had the flu, and Carrie thought it was her moral and ethical duty to stay in and look after her because the Cade parents wouldn't have even noticed if their daughter threw up all over their house. Sadie completely forgot about the plans she made with Katie and the other girls, and she agreed to go to the park with her twin brother, Sodapop. That left Katie and Jane.

For some odd reason, Katie was terribly nervous to be alone in a dark movie theater with no one but Jane Randle. Surely, there would be plenty of people around them, but it wouldn't be the same as if they were with their gaggle of good friends. Those people would be strangers; incapable of helping out if Katie and Jane had nothing to talk about.

And Katie and Jane would have nothing to talk about. That was certain. They were friends, but that was mostly a matter of convenience. The two girls had absolutely nothing in common. Jane was a year older than Katie and woefully feminine; Katie was a year younger and still preferred to get dirty at Crutchfield Park. Part of her wished she was going to the park with Sadie and Soda, but it was more worth it to see the movie, even if she had to sit through it with Jane and only Jane.

It wasn't like there was anything wrong with Jane. She was perfectly nice. She was also very pretty and always smelled a little like vanilla cake. Katie noticed that one day when they were sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, and when no one had any cake in front of them, she figured it must be her friend. It was also awfully nice of Jane to indulge Katie and go to the movies with her even though none of their other friends were able to make it. Then again, that was just the kind of person Jane Randle was. She put her friends before herself at all times, even when she was being overdramatic about it. The drama was part of Jane's charm. Katie always knew that.

Before the movie began, Jane chatted aimlessly about how deeply she was in love with Sodapop Curtis and how badly she wished he and Sadie had tagged along to the movie instead of spending another day in the park. She liked to be outside as much as the next person, she claimed, but running around and getting dirty didn't sound interesting to her. Apparently, Jane spent quite a bit of time cultivating her fashionable look in the morning. The last thing she ever wanted to do was scuff it up, which was always what Sadie's schemes lent themselves to – scuffing it up. Katie was curious as to what Jane would look like if she did get all scuffed up. She reckoned she would still look pretty cute.

Cute? What in the world was that? Katie had thought a lot of things about her friend Jane before – sweet, feminine, and strong when she wanted to be – but she'd never thought of Jane Randle as cute. That word felt wrong as it danced around in her head. She wished she had never thought it. Cute was the kind of word that people like Jane reserved for when they unbearably talked about how much they adored people like Sodapop Curtis. It wasn't the kind of word a girl used to describe another girl. That wasn't the way the world worked. Katie was certain of it.

The movie began, and though Katie was interested in the colorful, musical spectacle unfolding before her eyes, she found herself more interesting in how Jane reacted to the movie. She'd seen Alice in Wonderland before, too, but she said it had been a few years. She wanted to see if she remembered it the same way. Katie watched her as she tried to remember. The way Jane's eyes lit up when Alice found herself in a new and bizarre location was a sight to see. Katie was positive she'd never seen someone glow like that before. Because she was only ten years old, she didn't have the right word to describe that glowing look on Jane's face. But she was alive, and she knew it when she saw it. It was beautiful.

Beautiful. Now, that seemed like a more appropriate word to use for a girl who was your friend, Katie thought. It was the exact word that her own mother used to describe her whenever she was about to leave the house. That was fine. If Katie used the same word to describe Jane as Mrs. Mathews used to describe her own child, then there was nothing strange or off about the way Katie was feeling.

Was she really feeling any one way?

At one point, Jane leaned over and whispered to Katie that the voice of Alice was the same voice as Wendy Darling in Peter Pan, which was Jane's very favorite Disney film. The way Jane's nose tickled the side of Katie's cheek … Katie could have passed out remembering the softness of it. It was the best feeling in the world … probably because Jane's skin was so naturally soft. She wondered if it was genetic. Maybe Steve's skin was just as soft. Of course, Katie doubted that. Steve spent much too much time fighting and playing games in the yard with Two-Bit and Soda. There was no way his skin was as soft as Jane's – at least, not after all that wear and tear, Katie figured.

She looked down at her own hands, ashamed at the callouses forming there. She'd spent a great deal of time crossing the monkey bars with Lilly Cade earlier that summer, and as she sat there with Jane (Jane and her immaculately soft skin), she wished she hadn't. She didn't have the right words for it, but she could feel the shame beating in her heart. These weren't the pretty hands of a pretty girl. They were the rough hands of a man, worn down by years of underpaid carpentry. She remembered a pair of hands like that.

Katie could never hold someone's hand in a grasp as rough as hers. The thought was enough to make her want to cry.

The film wore on, and Katie still watched Jane out of the corner of her eye. She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning ear to ear when Jane sang, "You can learn a lot of things from the flowers, but especially in the month of June" under her breath. She sounded perfect. Katie wished her voice was that perfect, but when she sang, she sounded more like a wounded calf, crying out for its mother's help and nourishment. At least, that was what Two-Bit said when the two of them were singing "Cathy's Clown" together.

"Damn, Kate," her brother had said. "Never expected you to get that passionate about a song from a boy to some silly girl."

Katie wasn't sure how to respond to that when he said it, so she didn't. She figured it didn't mean anything. Then she spent an entire matinee with Jane Randle, and it began to make more sense. Katie's heart began to pound like crazy, and her neck went hot and cold at the same time. Was this what it was like when Jane saw Soda? Was this what she was supposed to feel for Ponyboy or some other boy in their class? What was this?

Was Katie feeling for Jane what she was supposed to feel for a boy?

It wasn't a question. Katie knew the answer before she even asked it. She'd known the answer since that knot appeared in her stomach earlier that day. She wasn't nervous to go to the movies with Jane because they had nothing in common. She was nervous to go to the movies with Jane because she liked Jane. She was curious about the way Jane's smooth hands would fit into hers and curious about the way Jane would kiss her, just like Jane was curious about how it would feel to hold and kiss Sodapop Curtis. The difference was that people expected Jane Randle to love Sodapop Curtis. No one expected Katie Mathews to love Jane Randle. That was broken and ridiculous.

Katie liked Jane. And that was the scariest thing for Katie to know.

1962

It was Halloween in the seventh grade, and Katie Mathews was quite sure she'd never seen Jane Randle look so beautiful.

Katie had felt that way since Halloween in 1960, when she was ten, and Jane was eleven. Jane was wearing this beautiful fairy princess dress that year. It was purple, which complemented Jane's hair (then a very dark brown color) very nicely. Every time Jane would walk past Katie that night, the fabric of her dress would brush up against Katie's hand. Jane would always apologize in that sweet-Jane voice of hers, but Katie knew she never needed to apologize. She loved the way her skin felt electric and her legs would turn to jelly. If she could feel that way for the rest of her life, she thought she'd grow up to be a happy woman.

But this Halloween was something special. While Katie tied a blue blanket around herself and trick-or-treated as a kind of makeshift, female Superman, Jane glided past her all night, dressed as an angel. She wore a white dress and had stolen from a number of Soc boys' pockets to be able to afford the beautiful, feathery white wings on her back. Katie couldn't help but stare every time she walked past (and even when Jane was standing far away, on the other side of the street or the yard). She'd never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.

For a moment, Katie wondered. Was she really attracted to Jane Randle in the same way Jane Randle was attracted to Sodapop Curtis or the same way Sodapop Curtis was attracted to that girl, Sandy, from a few streets down? Most of the time, she thought so, and it made her whole soul heavy to think about. What would her mother say? Would her father be glad he left so that he wouldn't have to raise a secretly depraved daughter? The questions were too much. They weighed on her and made her feel like she was always about a second away from tripping and falling on her face. Nevertheless, she was curious. Was she really attracted to Jane, or did she simply wish she could be as pretty as Jane? Was that it? Was that the answer to this constant pull she had toward a girl she'd known since the day she'd been born?

All night long, Katie fell deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of her thoughts. Each one contradicted and complicated the one before it. There was a part of Katie – a part much bigger than one may have expected from a girl who liked girls in 1962 – that was proud to feel this way about Jane. She wasn't saying that in the way she heard Dallas Winston talk about that girl, Sylvia. When he talked about her, it seemed like he was proud to turn her into an object. It wasn't like that for Katie. When Katie thought about her feelings for Jane, she was proud because it felt like love, and love felt like something anyone could celebrate.

But on the other hand, she asked herself darker questions – questions that seemed like they could only lead to trouble. She'd never met a girl who liked other girls before. She'd never even heard anyone allude to the possibility. Was it even allowed? What about boys who liked other boys? She'd heard more about that from Two-Bit and his friends. Whenever one of them wasn't sure he was up to getting into a fight or going to a rumble, one of them was bound to call the other faggot. One time, Katie asked Two-Bit what it meant, and he said it was when a guy acted like a girl, which meant he must have wanted to stick it to other guys. Katie nodded, but she couldn't help but notice that whenever one of the boys got called faggot, they would threaten to beat the hell out of whoever said it first. Was that what would happen to Katie if anyone ever found out she liked Jane the way Jane liked Soda? Were they going to call her names and laugh about it? Was she going to want to beat the hell out of them?

The thought was enough to make her want to vomit, so she tried to put it out of her mind. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase it completely. Of all the boys she hung around with, Steve was generally the most eager to use that word. What would happen if he found out that Katie had dreams about kissing his sister and taking her to the prom (despite the fact that they were two years apart in school)? Would he find a different name – one for girls who liked girls – and spit it out at her? Would she ever be able to show her face?

Was she normal?

The questions swirled around in her brain all night as she tried not to catch any glimpses of Jane, but it was so hard not to. She looked too beautiful to ignore. All night long, Katie could have sworn she felt Steve's eyes on her, staring daggers. He knew that as they all got older, he'd have to weed out a group of Jane's worst admirers. There was no way he expected one of those admirers would be a girl. What would he say if he found out?

There were the questions again. Katie was both curious to find out the answers and not curious at all. A part of her almost wished that she could walk right up to Steve and tell him that all the boys in line for Jane's heart would have to step aside. Katie loved her the most, and she would treat her right. She would swipe Jane all the lipsticks and fan magazines she wanted. Once they got older, Katie would find a good job doing … something. She wasn't bad at fixing things. Maybe she'd be a mechanic. Maybe that would pay the bills and keep Jane happy. They couldn't have babies, but Katie had heard rumblings of adoption before. Maybe they'd let a couple of ladies raise a baby and call it theirs. Part of her wanted to march right up to Steve Randle (the closest to an attentive father Jane would ever have, even if she didn't recognize it) and offer him that plan – a paltry teenage dowry with taboo laced throughout every word. But Katie stayed put. She knew Steve would throw her down a rabbit hole all his own. From that one, there was no getting up. There was no crawling out. Katie would be forced into the small darkness for as long as she lived.

Distraction came in the form of Lucy Bennet, Sadie's friend from her high-school English class. Lucy had just moved to Tulsa from Detroit, and Katie only knew two things about her: Dallas Winston was probably in love with her (if Dallas Winston could love anything or anybody), and she carried a book with her everywhere she went, though no one knew why. That night, much to Katie's surprise and relief, Lucy carried a copy of Alice in Wonderland.

Katie pointed to the book in Lucy's grasp.

"I didn't know that was a book," she said.

Lucy looked down at the cover and smiled.

"It's an old book, too. You've seen the Disney cartoon, then?"

Katie nodded.

"Saw it at the movies with Jane years and years ago. I sorta loved it."

"Me too. I like the book, but it's a bit hard to follow. Carroll was a mathematician, not a novelist, really, and you can tell. But he's got some great quotes out of this."

"What do you mean?"

"Quotes. Like … lines he wrote in the book that people can pull out and talk about. Memorable stuff."

Katie blushed. Lucy must have thought she was an idiot. In truth, she wasn't. She couldn't afford to be. She just wasn't great at paying attention in school. During school hours, Katie had much better things to think about, like what she and Lilly would make fun of as they passed from class to class … like whether or not she was a sinner, doomed to eternity in hell because sometimes she wondered what it would be like to hold Jane Randle's hand on the bleachers during a football game.

"What's it say in there?" Katie asked. "Which of them quotes do you like best?"

Lucy thought for a moment before she gave her answer.

"Well, there's this part near the end of the story where the Queen says, 'Why, sometimes, I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.' But that's from the sequel, Through the Looking-Glass. That book is a devil to get through."

Lucy went on about Alice in Wonderland and mathematical theory that she herself didn't understand, so there was no way she could have expected Katie to understand even a lick of it. As she went on this incessant tangent, Katie began to think about impossible things. For her, loving Jane Randle … loving girls in the same way girls were supposed to love boys … was an impossible thing. She had no one to confide in. She knew no one who would think it was all right to feel that way … only people, she assumed, who would turn up their noses and assume she was some kind of wayward pervert. That was how Steve used the word faggot, anyway, and if he felt that way about a guy who didn't feel up to a rumble, Katie couldn't even imagine how much he would hate a girl for coming onto his beloved kid sister. For Katie, being honest with herself and with the people she loved … it was all amounting to an impossible thing.

To be Katie Mathews was an impossible thing.

1965

It was the fall of tenth grade, and Katie Mathews thought she might hate Sodapop Curtis.

And of course she didn't hate him. Soda had been a good friend to her brother – a good friend to her, even – since they were just little kids. But she had to admit that it was much easier to be in love with Jane Randle when she was only pining for Soda. Once the two of them finally found their way to each other, it hurt Katie Mathews to breathe.

Everyday at lunch, it was the same thing. If the girls weren't talking about how inevitable it was that Lucy Bennet would wind up in Dallas Winston's bed by the end of the year, they were talking about how sweet Jane and Soda looked together. Lilly Cade even said something about how Jane's hard work had finally paid off. What hard work? Since when was it hard work to get a teenage boy to want to swap spit with you in the back of his car during a shitty drive-in movie? Katie had a brother. She knew it wasn't difficult. All a girl had to do was breathe in a boy's direction, and he was down to do whatever she'd let him. That wasn't love and affection. That was hormonal biology, and nothing about it sounded romantic to a fifteen-year-old Katie Mathews.

One day, it all came to a point for Katie. She sat at her typical lunch table with her typical group of friends (and Jane). When Lilly asked Jane if she was sure that Soda was a good kisser, Jane turned that adorable shade of pink and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. Initially, Katie wasn't thrilled when Jane decided to go blonde, but the more she looked at her, the more it suited her. Jane would always be beautiful. It was in her nature. It killed Katie to know that she'd never fully understand Jane's nature – not like Sodapop Curtis would, anyhow.

From behind her blush, Jane said, "He's the best kisser I ever could have imagined."

And though most of the other girls (with the notable exceptions of Lucy, who was against romance at the time, and Katie, who was against anyone else falling in love with Jane) giggled with delight and gossip, Katie couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take that she was the only one who had to sit at the table and pretend like she didn't have feelings. At least Lucy was in denial about her feelings for Dally. Katie wasn't in denial about the way she felt. She'd known for years how she felt when she looked at Jane. None of the other girls at the lunch table could have known how hard it was to sit there and shrug, pretending like someday, her prince would come. He never would. Before long, Katie would find herself falling down a rabbit hole of some man she made up when she didn't even want him. She knew what she wanted. Why couldn't she tell them? Why did she just know how they would react?

Abruptly, Katie jumped up from out of her chair and ran out of the cafeteria. Part of her hoped that someone would chase her. If anyone was going to chase her, it was going to be Lilly. The two of them had been best friends since before Katie could really remember, and Katie always figured if she were going to tell the truth about herself to anyone, it would be Lilly. Then again, she knew how Lilly would react – nervous, awkward, and confused. Perhaps none of the other girls liked boys as much as Lilly did. She had a new crush every week. When she talked about those crushes, it wasn't like Katie didn't know how to listen and play along. She understood quite well. All she had to do was take the way she felt about Jane – about how happy she was when she was happy, and how sad she was when Jane was sad. When Lilly asked her if she could imagine the way she felt, Katie always said yes. And when Lilly asked her who she could feel that way about, Katie always said no. Why couldn't she just tell her? Why couldn't she just tell anyone?

And when she heard someone chasing her down the hallway, she assumed it was Lilly. She assumed that, finally, she'd be able to tell Lilly how she really felt (who she really was – all of her). But in the end, it wasn't Lilly behind her after all.

"Katie?"

Katie's heart jumped into her throat as she whirled around. And there she was – with that familiar voice and that familiar posture (not too poised but definitely not slouched).

Jane.

"What … what do you want?" Katie asked. She tried to sound annoyed, but it was the hardest moment of her life. In her heart, she was happier than anything that Jane was the one to come and save her.

"I just thought I would check on you," Jane said. She sounded so kind. She was so kind. "You got up from the table so quickly, and we weren't talking about anything that would make you upset."

On the inside, Katie wanted to scoff. If only Jane knew. If only Jane knew how much it hurt every time they all went out to a movie, and Soda grabbed her hand like it was his to grab. And, of course, it was. But why didn't he share? Why didn't Jane want him to?

Katie knew why. Jane hadn't chosen to fall in love with Sodapop Curtis, just as Katie hadn't chosen to fall in love with Jane. That was just the way they were made. They weren't made to be compatible. That didn't change the fact that Jane's sweet voice, coupled with the toughness she couldn't help but exude, was nearly irresistible to Katie. Years later, a different woman would tell her that what she felt for Jane as a young girl was wrong – that it wasn't healthy or progressive to fall in love with what she would call a straight girl. But Katie grew up in a small neighborhood and in an even smaller gang of guys and girls. She didn't know many people. And all the affection she perhaps could have given to someone who would actually love her in return (not to mention that at the time, Katie was quite sure she was the only girl in the world who had ever fallen in love with another girl) was projected onto Jane. Sweet Jane.

"You're right," Katie said, and it should have been true. She knew Jane would never return her feelings. Why would she allow herself to get so upset about something that was so inherently and irreversibly true?

"So, then I thought maybe you got sick all of a sudden or somethin'," Jane said. "I mean, you were eatin' the cafeteria meatloaf, and Lord a'mighty knows that's never been a good meal."

Katie snorted, but it wasn't with contempt. She was happy. It had been a long time since she felt like she could talk to Jane without worrying about how she sounded or smelled.

"The ketchup's gotta come from another dimension or somethin'," Katie said. "It's like The Twilight Zone. Any minute now, Rod Serling's gonna come outta the woodwork and tell us he was the school chef all along."

"There is a secret to the ketchup," Jane said in her best Rod Serling voice. "All of it must remain disgusting. All of it! All of it much be disgusting. They remind us of a hundred years ago when a man called Heinz thought he could make the meatloaf a better place. But we must not let ourselves fall to the same mistakes as the vain Mr. Heinz. Otherwise, we risk staring into our own reflections until we die."

If Jane's face alone wasn't enough to make Katie want to reach out and kiss her, that playful mockery of The Twilight Zone surely was. She wondered if any of the other girls knew how smart and funny Jane could be. She wondered if Soda knew. Of course he knew. They were in love, and Katie had no choice but to stand outside the gates of Wonderland, wondering how to get inside.

"Was that a good one?" she asked with hope in her question mark.

Katie nodded.

"It was real good. Real, real good."

"Oh, I'm glad! Me and Steve love to make fun of those Twilight Zone end scenes. They're just so absurd. Don't ya think so?"

Katie shrugged.

"I don't know. I've always kinda liked things that are weird."

"Oh, that's right. You have. I forgot … years and years ago, when you were going into fifth grade, and I was going into sixth. We saw that movie together. The cartoon … Alice in Wonderland."

Katie nodded. It was all she knew how to do. If she let the conversation continue for much longer, she would end up admitting to Jane that the day they saw Alice in Wonderland was the day Katie learned that she was in love with her. It was the day she had to look at herself in the mirror and whisper those words that terrified her.

I love her, a girl.

"Ya know," Jane said, "I feel like that's the last time me and you really spent some time together. Five whole years ago. How does that happen?"

Katie muttered something about how she didn't know. The truth was, of course, that she did. It hurt too much to be around Jane and only Jane. It hurt too much to know that they would never find the same love that they watched in their movies and read in their books. Katie wasn't in denial. Sometimes, she liked to let her curiosity wander … liked to daydream about what would happen if Jane saw in herself the same things Katie did when she looked inward. But alas, each time she got too close, she remembered. Every one of Jane's smiles forced her to remember.

"Well, I think it's a little ridiculous," Jane said. "We should hang out more often. I mean, I know it's hard for me to shake Soda off since we're new together and everything, but …"

And that was enough to make Katie stop listening. It wasn't just about how much she loved Jane and how much it hurt to know that Jane would never love her in return. It was about how Katie was curious to know what was outside of Tulsa. She needed to know what was outside of Tulsa. There was no way she could have known that somewhere, out there, there were beautiful women who would love every part of her – not just as a friend, but finally as a girlfriend. At the same time, there was no way she could have known that somewhere, out there, there were people who wanted to tear her apart for the way she felt.

But that was for another day.

1968

It was the summer after Katie Mathews graduated from high school, and she heard the word lesbian for the first time.

She and Lilly borrowed Katie's mother's car and took a road trip to Austin, Texas. They heard that the music scene was great down there, and they wanted to get into trouble without their big brothers hovering over them. Because their brothers had set such an aggressive example (even Johnny, in all of his paranoia and anxiety), the girls felt awkward about causing trouble of their own. But if the boys didn't know where to find them, perhaps they could rebel (a little bit).

They went to a concert for some local band. They didn't know anyone there, and the music wasn't particularly interesting to them. But they'd managed to sneak a few beers, and they settled into a crowd of other young people, looking for something in the midst of nothing. Nothing and mediocre guitar.

While Lilly was off "in the bathroom" with a guy she'd met and bonded over when they discovered they both had first names, Katie was left alone in the crowd. She wondered if Lilly was insane. Who would leave their best friend in a strange place like that? And if she hadn't bumped into someone as she backed up a few steps, she would have pondered that curiosity a little longer.

Of course, Katie did bump into someone. And she had a whole new thread of curiosity to explore.

"Oh," Katie said. "I'm sorry."

She looked straight ahead at the woman she'd bumped into. She was about the same height as Katie, and they looked to be about the same age. Interestingly (or, at least, interestingly for Katie), this girl wore trousers and a short haircut. She did not, however, wear a bra, which was shocking for Katie. This girl's breasts were about as big as Lucy Bennet's, and Lucy Bennet's breasts were, at least to a younger version of Lilly, enviable.

"Don't be," the girl said. Her voice was that cool kind of jaded that all the Soc girls at school had. "We're all packed together like sardines out here. It happens."

"Yeah. Sardines."

Katie giggled to herself. Two-Bit would have liked that one. In a month, he would be home. In a month, she'd be able to talk to him again. She knew from his letters that he wouldn't be the same when he returned home, but she was still curious to find out how different he would be.

"Something wrong?" the girl asked.

"What? Oh, no. Well, yes. Just your joke about sardines."

"You hate them?"

"No. It's a joke my brother would like. He's finishing up his tour. In Vietnam."

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Stupid fucking war," she said. "My brother got a student exemption. He's studying finance at UT. Because apparently I needed another reason to hate him."

Katie almost laughed. If Two-Bit had been fixated on money and the economy, Katie probably would have hated him, too.

"Friend of mine's got a boyfriend over there," the girl said, lighting up a joint and offering it to Katie, who initially refused. Two-Bit always told her that it didn't matter what the guys on the street said. You really could get addicted, and he didn't want her to have to carry that burden. "I'm telling you. That's the one time I looked at myself and said, 'Good thing I'm a lesbian.'"

Katie wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"A what?" she asked.

"A lesbian," the girl said. "Do you really not know what a lesbian is?"

"Sorry. No."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen. I turned eighteen in January."

"That's too old not to have heard the word lesbian before. Where are you from?"

"Small neighborhood in Tulsa."

The girl snorted – half amused and half disgusted with Katie's ignorance.

"That explains it," the girl said. "I hear they put kids to death for stealing candy bars up there."

"Pretty much."

It was almost true. When Two-Bit got caught for swiping his first chocolate bar at the age of seven, the cop talked to him like he was about to execute him. That had been enough to terrify Katie for the rest of her life.

"A lesbian's a girl who likes other girls," the stranger explained. "You know, like how most of the girls you probably know like guys."

Katie could have just nodded. She could have changed the subject. But she didn't. Something told her that she shouldn't. And so, for the first time since that viewing of Alice in Wonderland with the beautiful Jane Randle at her side, Katie Mathews spoke freely.

"How do you know I don't like guys like that?" Katie asked. She wasn't defensive. She was curious.

The girl raised her eyebrows and then smirked.

"Well, I didn't know," she said. "But now that you mention it … the fact that you're at a concert alone, from out of town, at the beginning of summer is a pretty decent tell."

"I'm not alone. I'm with a friend of mine."

"And where's your friend?"

"Off fuckin' some guy."

"And you didn't have the bright idea to do the same thing?"

Katie shrugged.

"Well, I didn't want to," she said. "I never wanted to sleep with a guy. I only …"

"You only what?"

"I only thought about sleeping with other girls."

And in that moment, Katie Mathews felt like she could breathe for the first time in almost ten years. She didn't even know this woman's name, and yet, she had to be grateful to her. This stranger had liberated her. At least, she had liberated her speech.

"Thought so," the girl said from behind a smirk. Though it wasn't a cruel smirk. It was almost … welcoming. Perhaps even inviting.

The girl extended her hand to shake Katie's, and Katie took it. Katie gave the girl her name, then the girl introduced herself as Blossom. Initially, Katie figured she named herself, but Blossom shook her head.

"My mother loved flowers, and my father was terrified of my mother," she said. "I'd change it, but I hate my father so much. I keep the name to hold over his head. You know?"

Katie knew. Though she didn't have it in her to hate her father like Two-Bit certainly did, she felt an insurmountable sum of anger toward him. He'd left the family when Katie was four years old, leaving the (now meaningless) Mathews family name in his wake. There were times Katie wished she could love a man and marry him so that she could get rid of the Mathews name. But in the end, that wasn't who she was. In the end, she'd learn to love the sound of Mathews. Just not when she was eighteen years old.

"My old man walked out on us when me and my brother were real little," Katie said. "I never told my brother or nothin', but I had a friend of mine see if he could find him a couple of years back."

For the record, that was true. Back in 1966, Katie turned to Dally and asked him if he could, maybe, track down her father. She knew Dally had a knack for tracking people down and making them pay. He'd done it before, and even though neither of them knew it, he would do it again. It hadn't taken Dally very long to find him. Katie and Two-Bit's father now lived in Oklahoma City. He was married to a younger, blonder woman, and they had a daughter of their own. Her name, of all things, was Katherine Mathews, and she was five years younger than her sister of the exact same name. It was almost as though Katie had never existed. A part of Katie (the first Katie) thought perhaps it was her father's chance to do it all again. Maybe he didn't have another son – one who knew how to control his drinking and had more cash in his bank account. But he did have another daughter – another Katie, to be exact. And though her father had no way of knowing that his elder daughter was a lesbian, this other Katie was his way of correcting the first one. After all, though Katie didn't know her father, there was still a part of her that knew he would be disappointed in her for being (ostensibly) different.

Katie had never told Two-Bit that she asked Dally to go looking for their father. She never told him anything about what Dally had found out about him, either. Ultimately, she knew it would depress her brother, who'd down a twelve-pack of beer in a single night and crack a bunch of thoughtless jokes to masquerade his pain over being rejected (a common theme in his life, as it turned out). She knew he wouldn't forgive her, and she knew she wouldn't blame him. But she couldn't help herself. Katie was just that curious.

"Should I be sorry about that?" Blossom asked, pulling Katie back into the conversation about rotten fathers and being a lesbian, which she still couldn't stop thinking about. It was almost a relief to attach a seemingly simple word to the truly complicated way she felt. Of course, it was more than just a feeling. Liking girls – being a lesbian – was who Katie Mathews was.

In the moment, it was such a relief to have a word to describe it that she didn't stop to think about what it meant: None of the people who knew her really knew her. Were they even curious to find out?

Katie shook her head.

"Naw," she said. "He was a dick. Would've hated me for bein' a lesbian."

"So, you are a lesbian, then."

"I guess so."

"And I take it you've never met another one?"

Once more, Katie shook her head.

"For a long time, I figured I was the only girl in the world who got crushes on other girls," Katie said. "I thought I was broken. I spent a lot of time wishing this girl back home felt the same way, but …"

"But she's straight, and you can't change straight. Just like you can't change queer."

Katie bristled at the use of the word queer. She'd heard Two-Bit and Steve use it to make fun of Soda when he was crying about something they thought was silly. When she asked Two-Bit what it meant, he told her it meant that Soda was acting like a faggot, again. Katie didn't have to be a genius to know they were using the word as an insult. She really didn't have to be a genius to know that she was the insult.

"It's OK if we say it," Blossom said off Katie's disgusted look. "At least, we're trying to make that happen."

And for the first time in what felt like her whole life, when Katie heard the word we, she felt understood in a way no one else had understood her before. It was bizarre – Blossom was a stranger, and so were these other unnamed people that Katie hadn't met and may never meet in all her life. But the fact that Blossom seemed to know they existed – the fact that Katie could have the chance to meet people like her – was enough to make Katie feel welcome in her own body and mind.

"She's been goin' with a friend of my brothers for years now," Katie said. "He's over in Vietnam, too. He shipped out in April. Part of me … I don't know, part of me thought that if he was away, she'd come to realize that she's had it all wrong. She's been in love with me the whole time. And I don't even know why I would ever think that could happen. We don't even spend very much time together – at least, not just the two of us. I think the last time we spent any time together was when I was ten, she was eleven, and we went to the movies to see Alice in Wonderland."

Blossom nodded from behind her cloud of smoke, which Katie breathed in. It almost felt good. It did feel good, except for the guilt. Even though Two-Bit was far, far away, she felt like he still knew what his kid sister was getting herself into.

"Good movie," she said. "Better book. Do you read a lot?"

"My friend Lucy does."

"I asked about you, not your friend Lucy."

Katie shook her head.

"Never did too hot in school," she said. "The only things I know about books are what a few of my friends back at home tell me about them. When I was a little younger, Lucy tried to explain the book to me, but I don't think she really understood it herself."

Blossom nodded.

"I think you gotta get high to really understand it. Your friend smoke?"

"She's a mom."

"Figures. Well, there's this really great line from the book from the Cheshire Cat. He looks at Alice, and he says, 'We're all mad here.' You ever heard that before?"

"Naw, can't say I have."

"That's the line that changed my life. Made me realize it didn't matter if I was different from the other girls in school that I knew. Everybody's mad in some way or another."

"But what do we have to be angry about?"

Blossom laughed. She was getting quite the kick out of Katie's down-home naivety.

"Not mad like angry," Blossom said. "Mad like crazy. We're all crazy about something. So, people might think we're crazy for being girls who like other girls. So what? I'm sure your friends back home are crazy about other shit. Aren't they?"

Katie thought about Lilly, and how she was crazy about being a blonde. She thought about her brother, who was crazy about sleeping with blondes. Of course all of her friends were crazy. They just didn't seem like … what was the word she'd heard come from a pastor's mouth before?

Deviants.

That was right. He hadn't specified who he was talking about when he said it, but Katie knew. He must have been talking about people like her.

"I can tell by the look on your face," Blossom said. "You know some mad people."

"Yeah. I do."

"So … if you wanna come out to them, you probably could."

"Come out?"

"Tell them the truth about who you are. That you're not your boy-crazy friend who's supposedly here with you. It's up to you, but after I did it? I felt a little better."

And Katie would have given it another thought. Later that weekend, she would. She'd think about it all the way home, even when she was driving and was supposed to pay attention to the strange curves in the road. But in that moment, she didn't have time. Lilly was nowhere to be found, off risking her own safety for her own desires, and Katie had no way of finding her. She was too focused on the cloud of smoke wafting in front of Blossom's face … too focused on the joint she twisted between her perfect, spindly fingers. Katie pointed to the joint and asked if she could have a hit – for real this time. She'd never tried before, and she was curious.

1969

It was the day after New Year's Day, and Katie Mathews was mulling over her New Year's Resolution.

She'd never made one before, but when Lucy's cousin Lynnie began to wax poetic about wishes for 1969, she couldn't help but think about what a wild ride the last few months of her life had been. After years of thinking she was broken and unlovable and altogether esoteric, Katie finally learned there was a word for the way she felt and the person she was. She was a lesbian, and she felt comfortable admitting it to herself in the mirror. It became easier after the night she spent with that girl, Blossom, in Texas the summer before. The two of them hadn't kept in touch, but Blossom's existence was enough to convince Katie that liking girls – being a lesbian – wasn't a strange, dirty, or bad thing. It was just who she was. And in 1969, Katie Mathews resolved to be that person out loud in front of her friends and family. The first person she planned to tell was, of course, Two-Bit.

Two-Bit had been acting strangely since he came home from Vietnam that July. He'd always been a heavy drinker and a heavy talker, but lately, it was heavy on the drinking and heavier on the awkward silences. Any time Katie tried to ask her brother about a serious question, like how he felt about being home, he changed his mind and found another beer. She recognized him sometimes, but most of the time, it was like she was looking at Two-Bit's ghost. Once, he'd even screamed at her for trying to ask if he wanted to talk about the nightmare from which he'd woken up in a cold sweat. Katie hadn't meant to provoke her brother. She only wanted to help. She was only curious.

But even if they weren't exactly on the same page, and even if a younger version of her brother had used words like faggot and queer to make fun of his friends, Katie figured that if any of the guys would enjoy having a lesbian sister, it was Two-Bit. Maybe that didn't make sense, but Katie felt in her bones that it was true. Whether or not Two-Bit realized it, they already ogled blondes together. She remembered a time when she and Lilly were about fourteen years old, and Two-Bit was talking about how Dally's ex-girl, Sylvia, was a hell of a good-looking blonde. Katie, of course, agreed. There was no way she couldn't. But she posited Jane as the superior blonde. Two-Bit might not have realized what he was doing, but Katie did. She was trying to talk about beautiful girls with her brother, a connoisseur of beautiful girls, or so Katie thought. Once he knew that she was a lesbian, Katie just knew their relationship would open up again. They could do more things together. They could finally have a dialogue that didn't end with Two-Bit cracking open another beer or Katie withdrawing into her room, hoping he didn't catch onto her feelings about Jane.

Jane.

Katie had been thinking about her quite a bit since that summer and the night she spent with Blossom in Texas, but it wasn't the same as it had been for nearly ten years. As Blossom told her, Jane was a straight girl. She was in love with Sodapop, and there was nothing Katie could do to change that, no matter how much she loved her or tried to woo her. Falling in love with a straight girl could only lead Katie to pain. And Katie knew that. She'd spent almost a decade crying everyday because Jane didn't see her as a woman. She saw her as a friend. That night in Texas wasn't exactly enough to convince Katie to get over Jane. And how could she? Those feelings had been intact and passionate for so, so long. But it was enough to make Katie turn inside herself and think. She deserved more. She deserved to be loved, and she deserved reciprocation. Likely, she would have to travel outside of Tulsa to find it. After all, that was what she needed to do the first time she kissed (and kissed and kissed and kissed) another woman. But that didn't bother Katie Mathews one bit. She'd always wanted to travel more. She was naturally curious.

On January 2, 1969, Katie headed down to Jay's in the middle of the afternoon. She wasn't working that day, and she figured she could find Two-Bit there. If he wasn't getting drunk at home while their mother was at work, it was likely you could find him at the DX or at Jay's. And since he wasn't at the DX, she went down to the greasers' favorite (and really only) restaurant in town. When she opened the door, a familiar song played on the jukebox.

"One pill makes you larger / and one pill makes you small / and the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all …"

Cynically, Katie smiled. It was only fitting, she supposed. She scanned the restaurant to see if she could find Two-Bit. She knew what she would do if she did. She would walk up to him and pull him outside. There, she'd tell him the truth – that she was his sister, she loved him more than anyone in the world, even their old lady, and she was a lesbian. Maybe Two-Bit had heard that word before. Maybe he'd long suspected she was a lesbian, even before Katie knew that word herself. That was the plan. She didn't know how it would turn out, but she had a feeling that Two-Bit would give her a hug and tell her that he loved her, too. He wasn't a dick. He wouldn't cast her out for being true to herself. He couldn't. When he was younger, he might have talked a dick-ish game, but it wasn't who he was.

Katie's eyes combed through the restaurant, but they never landed on Two-Bit. As it turned out, he wasn't there. Usually, Katie would have panicked because if she couldn't find her brother, there was every chance that he was in trouble again. But she didn't have time to think about what her brother might be up to. Before she knew it, Jane Randle was excitedly waving at her from a booth where she sat, all by herself.

If this had been a year earlier, Katie would have (perhaps foolishly) convinced herself that this was her big moment. She would have bounced over to Jane's booth and ordered them a milkshake to share. Katie would have said something like, "If I have a whole milkshake, it'll fill me up too much," but really, she just wanted to pretend like she was Jane's girlfriend. She didn't feel that way anymore. A part of her heart would always belong to Jane Randle. Whether or not Jane knew it, it was always going to be true. Katie owed a lot to Jane. There was a time when she resented the fact that it was Jane and their viewing of Alice in Wonderland that made Katie realize she wasn't just like her other friends. But that time, now, was over. Now, all Katie could be was grateful to Jane. Without Jane, she never would have realized the truest version of herself. Without Jane, she wouldn't feel like she could breathe again for the first time in almost ten years.

"Katie!" Jane called from across the restaurant. "I've got a seat right here for ya!"

Katie smiled and politely walked over to Jane. She slid in the booth across from her friend, and for the first time in forever, it didn't pain Katie to admit that Jane Randle was only her friend. Because, in truth, they weren't only friends. Being someone's friend wasn't somehow less than being someone's true love. It was just different. Without Jane, perhaps Katie never would have figured out the truth about that. And when Katie looked at Jane that day, she couldn't help but smile.

"I just ordered a strawberry milkshake," Jane said. "You know I normally opt for chocolate, but it just sounded so good."

"Yeah," Katie said. "Can't blame ya there. They're my favorite."

"Oh, I know. That's why I flagged ya down. I figured we could share the shake, like we used to when we were in high school."

Katie blushed. She'd been so obvious. When she looked at Jane that day, she still saw a beautiful girl. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that wasn't still very drawn to Jane. But it was different now. Katie took her innate curiosity and looked inside of herself, and she knew who she was now. She didn't need to spend the rest of her life brokenhearted and pining over Jane who would always be spoken for. She loved her, and she owed a lot of her new and impending life to her. But it wasn't the same. Now, when Katie Mathews looked at Jane Randle, she was a wonderful, loving, supportive friend. And it wasn't just enough. It was exactly what she needed.

Jane reached out and grabbed Katie's hand from across the table. For the first time in nearly a decade, Katie didn't feel her stomach jump and cheeks flush. This was not a move. Jane was not curious about what it could be like to kiss a girl, though if she were, Katie could certainly tell her now (with words, of course). This was a gesture of love and friendship. It was exactly what Jane needed.

"I been comin' here a lot since Soda shipped out," Jane said. "It's like … I don't know. It's like it's the one place I can be alone without needin' to hear my own thoughts. Does that make any sense to you?"

Katie nodded. It was exactly how she'd felt about the Dingo for all of these years. She would go there and watch shitty movies with Lilly and listen to Two-Bit get into pointless fights with other greasers and sometimes Socs, too. It was a place where she could be alone without dealing with her feelings that she did not yet know how to name. It was a place where she didn't have to be curious about herself. But it wasn't too hard to have her thoughts and feelings anymore. In fact, now, they were almost at exactly the right pitch inside her less-muddled head.

"I think so," Katie said. "I think that's how Two-Bit treats the DX. And here, sometimes."

"You just missed him, by the way," Jane said. "He was lookin' for Lilly, but she ain't workin' today. He headed over to the DX to mess around with my brother. I think they like it over there 'cause then they can pretend Soda's behind the counter, too. It's the reason I won't go in anymore, even when I need to borrow Steve's car. I been walkin' all around this forsaken town because I don't wanna be reminded of Sodapop. Steve always reminds me it ain't a good idea for a little lady to wander these streets on her own, but I don't know. I just can't make myself go into the DX when I know Soda ain't gonna lean over the counter and kiss me hello and goodbye. It's stupid as hell, but it's … I don't know. It's just how I feel."

Katie squeezed Jane's hand. This was a gesture of love. It was not the kind of love a younger Katie Mathews may have hoped for. But it was love, and that was enough. It was more than enough. It wouldn't always be enough, and Katie wanted more. But it wasn't going to come from Jane. Katie no longer wanted it to come from Jane. She knew that now.

"I understand," Katie said.

"Thanks, Katie. Hey, were ya lookin' for Two-Bit? 'Cause if you need to find him, I can brave it over at the DX. I haven't been in there for months and months, but if you need somebody to go with ya and help ya out, I'm your girl."

And it wasn't the phrasing of I'm your girl that really did it for Katie that day. It was the fact that Jane, who was in so much pain and grief now that Soda wasn't around, was willing to put her fears aside to help Katie face one of hers – and her greatest fear at that. Jane was the reason Katie knew a little more about herself now. In that time, she'd never been anything but a good – and trustworthy – friend. It seemed only fitting that she, even if she wasn't inherently curious about it, should know first.

"Hey, Jane?" Katie asked.

"What's up, Katie?"

"Can I tell ya somethin'?"

And that's the end of that. This one shot took me nearly two months to write, and I know it's still rough. I'm still exploring Katie Mathews as a character. But I wanted to get this one shot out before the upcoming chapter of 'See My Friends,' since that chapter alludes to the very last vignette in this story. It all connects – sometimes before I even know it will.

I've known that Katie is a lesbian since, pretty much, I started writing these characters. It wasn't a conscious choice – just sort of revealed itself to me. I know it's not really on theme with Alice in Wonderland here, but I wanted to try to convey the fact that Katie is curious about everything. She's curious about her sexuality, about her family, about drugs, etc. Her sexuality is the framing device in this particular story, but there's so much more to her than just who she loves. She's the OFC I have the least in common with, which might be obvious. But I love her just the same, and I look forward to exploring her as a character!

Hinton owns The Outsiders. Disney owns their version of Alice in Wonderland. Lewis Carroll's Alice novels are in the public domain. The song Katie hears when she walks into Jay's is "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane, which obviously uses allusions to Alice in Wonderland to talk about the social climate in the American 1960s. I claim no ownership there. I own a milk crate with a lot of records in it. Incidentally, Surrealistic Pillow is not one of them.