Author's Note: So, I've never really been a big fan of Steve Randle. I'm not sure if it was because his character wasn't really that developed in the book, or if my hatred for Tom Cruise in the movie ruined it for me … Either way, I surprised myself when I felt the motivation to write a story with Steve as the main character. The main inspiration actually came from my other story, "Epiphany," when in the Steve-centric chapter, Dally remembers a particular afternoon where he and Steve ended up fighting in the Curtis' front yard. I thought it would be fun to elaborate on that single event and flesh it out into a full story, then the rest just sort of came to me along the way. I hope I don't screw this up! Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think every now and then!

Disclaimer:I don't own The Outsiders (Though, damn! I wish I did) or the chapter title "Long, Cold Winter." They belong to S.E. Hinton and the band Cinderella, respectively.

Steve flipped up the collar on his jeans jacket and took a deep drag on his cigarette. The icy February wind picked up for a moment and swirled around him, carrying his smoke along with it and threatening to dislodge one of his meticulously coifed hairs. "God damn, it's cold out here," he muttered, holding his cigarette in one hand and stuffing the other into the pocket of his jacket for some momentary warmth. "Whose lame brain idea was this anyway?"

Sodapop Curtis, his best friend since he was about ten, looked back at him through eyes the color of dark chocolate and smirked. "I believe it was yours," he said nonchalantly, taking a slow puff from his own cigarette. "I ain't addicted enough to brave seventy below for a cancer stick."

Steve smirked back. "You're full of shit. You know damn well you talked me into joining you out here. I'm missing shop class for Christ's sake. It's the only one I'm getting a decent grade in."

Soda shrugged and leaned back against the brick wall behind them. "Then head on back. See if I care … "

Steve sighed and crouched down next to his friend. He held the cigarette between his frozen lips and shoved both hands into his pockets as he rest his back against the wall too. Maybe he'd remember to dig up some gloves from the basement if Soda was going to pull this sort of thing again. It was just like Soda, he thought, coming up with some great idea and not taking into consideration all the little details. That kid just didn't use his head sometimes.

While the day was by no means the coldest of the year, it certainly wasn't warm either. The Oklahoma landscape didn't have much in the way of peaks or valleys, and the flat land only let the wind travel along unimpeded. Both the sky and ground were a hazy shade of dingy gray, making it difficult to determine where one began and the other ended. The smoke from their two cigarettes seemed to linger around somewhere in between, swirling up into the air while, at the same time, blending in against the frozen ground. The whole world seemed quiet—or dead—and if it weren't for the cars whizzing past on the main street in front of them, Steve would have wondered if they were the only two people alive.

Steve shivered and surveyed the area as he took another drag from his cigarette. He and Soda were hanging out against the closed up concession stand by the school's football field. As soon as the weather warmed up—in a couple more months—this area would be swimming with other greasers, Eastsiders like themselves. There would be laughter and roughhousing and probably threats from the local fuzz every now and again. There would be more action then, too. Things always picked up in Tulsa when the weather got warmer.

Steve sat back on his heels and looked over at Soda who had slunk down next to him. He had a strange look in his eye. The Curtis brothers always seemed like they were thinking about something, but lately they were more preoccupied than usual. Steve guessed they had good reason to be …

"So, why'd you make me come out here with you anyway?" Steve asked. "Besides the fact that I'm your best friend, of course."

Soda looked over at him. "No real reason. I just had to get out of there, you know?" he asked, motioning across the student parking lot and toward the big, brick school building that stood just beyond it. "I just don't feel like sitting in class all day anymore. No action. Not that there's any action out here right about now, but … I just can't stay cooped up in there for six hours a day."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. School just ain't our thing, Sodapop."

Soda smiled and pressed his cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, holding the warm smoke in his lungs for a moment and then pitched the smoldering butt toward a small drift of snow that had been created by the wind. Exhaling, Soda sighed. "I guess … It's just … Life is short, man. I see that now, and I don't think it's worth it for me to stay in school no more."

"'Course it is," Steve mumbled, eyeing Soda seriously.

Soda shook his head. "Nah … I don't think so. Not for me. I ain't passin' anything worthwhile anyhow. You, at least, are good in math and stuff. The only thing I even enjoy anymore is gym class. Shop is okay, but Mr. Peterman won't let us do any real work on the cars. It just ain't the same as being at the DX and actually doing it."

Steve nodded, he agreed with that last part, at least. "So what're you saying?"

"I think I might drop out … You know, ask George if I can work full time down at the DX instead. He's always saying how you an' me are the best thing that's happened to that station. How we're bringing in business like never before. Maybe I could get a jump on things during the day, and you could work evenings like you usually do. I don't know … It just sounds crazy enough to work out."

Soda chuckled slightly and looked at Steve quizzically, waiting for some sort of confirmation.

"Do you got another smoke?" Steve replied, looking down at the concrete as he crushed what was left of his previous cigarette. He couldn't believe what Sodapop was actually considering.

Soda looked disappointed, his mouth slowly curving into a frown.

"Look, I ain't one to give advice," Steve began, noticing the frustrated expression on his friend's face. "I don't know enough about what you're contemplatin' to tell you what to do."

"I ain't askin' for you to lay it all out for me," Soda replied sternly, the warm and friendly tone leaving his voice for a moment. "I'm just runnin' an idea by a friend. That's all. I ain't expecting anything."

Steve looked up at the clouded sky and closed his eyes. "I just don't think you'd be helping anyone by quitting … Especially yourself," he replied without looking at Soda. "I know you think the extra money would be helpful, but maybe it wouldn't be worth it in the long run …"

Steve couldn't help but think of his best friend, stuck in Tulsa forever. Sure, he wasn't the smartest kid on the block, but he was charismatic. He could make something of himself if given the chance. He had a charm that even the rich kids didn't have—that even the rich kids couldn't buy. Sodapop Curtis could sway anyone into becoming his friend.

"Besides," Steve continued, shaking the thoughts away, "what's Darry say about all this?"

It was Soda's turn to divert his gaze. "He don't know yet," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Steve laughed to himself. "Of course he doesn't," he said. "You know damn well he won't go for it."

"Maybe he won't have a choice," Soda replied, a sly look in his eye. "We need the money now more than we ever did. And he can't get any decent jobs until the weather warms up again …"

"He just might be desperate enough for it to work, huh?"

Soda smirked. "He just might," he replied with a laugh.

Steve sighed. Same old Sodapop. "Well, just don't drop the bomb on him when I'm around, okay? I ain't itchin' to see his reaction. I can't imagine that he'd let you go through with it without a fight or something."

"Probably not," Soda said. "But I think it's worth a shot."

"If you say so." Steve wasn't convinced. But once Soda had an idea, there was no stopping him. They were both cutting class, sitting outside in the middle of the winter, after all. "I just think you should take the time to really see if that's what you want to do. You've gotta look out for yourself too, you know—not just your brothers."

Soda nodded sullenly. "I know, I know," he mumbled. "When did you get so smart?"

"I've been hangin' around with you, haven't I?"

Soda smiled and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a cigarette and handed it over to Steve. "Still want it?" He asked.

"Sure."

Steve reluctantly pulled one hand out of his jacket pocket and reached out toward Soda, taking the cigarette and transferring it to his lips. "So what's the plan for this weekend? Are we gonna hang out, or what?" he asked, as he brought the flame from his lighter up towards his face.

Soda grimaced. "I can't. Not on Friday anyhow. I promised Sandy I'd take her out to dinner and then to the movie house."

Steve cocked an eyebrow as he puffed to get the smoke going. "Big spender."

Soda shook his head. "You know it ain't like that. Sandy and me usually just bum around the house. I figured I should put in a little effort with Valentine's coming up and all. Hey—did I tell you? She wants me to take her to the school dance. The dance! I told her that guys like me don't dance, but she knows I'm lyin' … I'm a sucker for stuff like that."

Steve laughed. "That's what you get for picking up a girl and askin' her to go steady."

"Yeah, yeah. It ain't all bad, though. It's nice to be with a girl for a change … Instead of hangin' around you lousy hoods all the time."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"You don't know what you're missing," Soda replied with a smirk. "Even Dal has a girl for cryin' out loud."

"What Dally's got is a loud-mouthed broad … Sylvia ain't no girl! Not by a long shot!"

Soda laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he replied.

Their laughter died down and silence crept in between them. Suddenly, Soda turned to look at Steve, a wide grin plastered across his face. "If I didn't just get the best idea …" he began.

"What, like sitting out here in the cold?" Steve asked, smiling warily.

"Better," Soda responded. "Now, Sandy's been talkin' about this friend of hers from Home Economics class. Her name's Evelyn—they call her Evie—and she's real nice. Friendly, cute, giggly … You know, real girly and stuff. Why don't you ask her out so that we can double sometime?"

Steve shook his head, slowly at first and then with greater intensity. "I don't think so …"

"No. Seriously, man. Evie's real nice. You'd like her."

"I don't think so," Steve repeated.

"Aw, come on," Soda whined. "Sandy says she makes a mean chocolate cake."

Steve eyed Soda suspiciously. "I ain't about to be set up on a date by my best friend. How would that look to this Evie chick? I'll bet she wants a real guy, not some dumb thug who lets his friends do the talking for him …"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Bullshit," Steve retorted. "I know you'll never let this go."

Soda smiled sheepishly. "Just think about it, will ya?"

"Only if you'll think about finishing out your sophomore year."

Soda frowned again.

"I'm serious," Steve pressed on.

"Well, so am I."

Steve pulled the cigarette from his mouth and calmly blew out a cloud of smoke. He watched it trail out away from him and up toward the cold, gray sky above, and then tossed what was left of the cigarette off to the side. "It looks like it might snow again," he observed.

"Maybe," Soda replied, looking up as well.

Steve pulled himself up and wiped the front and back of his jeans with his hands. What little snow had clung onto him flaked off and gently fell down onto the concrete. "How about we go back inside now?" Steve asked, reaching out a hand. "I don't think I can feel my toes anymore."

Soda nodded, grabbed Steve's hand, and pulled himself to his feet. He brushed his jeans off and looked at Steve. "Sounds okay to me. Do you think shop is over yet?"

As if on cue, the sound of the 1:15 school bell rang out across the cold, still air.

Steve eyed Soda. "We might even make it to the next class on time," he said with a fake smile.

"Oh great," Soda replied sarcastically. "I can't wait for a full period of English Literature. Lord knows that's my ticket out of this town!"

"It beats Geometry."

Soda nodded. "That it does."

"And I bet that Romeo and Juliet stuff would go over real well with Sandy. She might be mistaken and think you a real romantic or something."

"You're right," Soda said with a smirk. "Maybe you ought to switch classes before you ask Evie out. I don't think Geometry impresses a girl."

"And I don't think I'll be asking anyone out," Steve replied, giving Soda's shoulder a shove so that he nearly toppled over into a parked Mustang.

A wicked smile spread across Soda's lips as he lunged back at Steve. Knowing how his best friend's mind worked by now, Steve easily sidestepped out of the way and watched as Soda skidded past him on the slick ground, his arms thrashing around, hands grasping for anything he could reach.

Steve laughed. "Watch your step there, Pepsi-Cola," he taunted.

Soda grunted as he fought to regain his balance and then stood up stiffly as if nothing had happened. "Shoot, Steve," he said seriously. "We ain't gonna make it to class on time if you keep up these shenanigans. What's a model student like you doing outside of the school buildin' anyhow?"

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Let's get back inside."

Soda nodded and threw an arm around Steve's shoulders as they crossed the parking lot toward the school. It was a simple gesture, but it let Steve know that Soda wasn't beefed at him for being less than enthusiastic about his future educational goals … And it helped to warm him up a little bit too.

It felt like they had been sitting outside for half the day, when really it had only been an hour or so. But in that hour, Steve could tell that things were changing again ...

That his life was never going to be the same.