Author's Note: As you read this, you may realize that some of the dates are a bit off, according to the actual timeline of events, both in the book and in actual history. But that is intentional, as otherwise the story would not work out. Also, for my own writing purposes, I have used the "Complete Novel" version of the movie, so that certain scenes could be included. So, ignore the errors in the timeline, and try not to wince too much at my attempts at a humor-ish story. Well, sort of humor. Not exactly. Eh, read it and tell me what you think of it. Please review!

Disclaimer: By the way, I still don't own The Outsiders book or movie! Some day…

Five years after the deaths of my friends, Johnny and Dallas, I went to see another movie. Ironic, I thought as I once again walked into the darkness of the movie house, ironic that another story should begin here. Only this time I did bring people with me. There was a movie playing that I wanted them to be the first to see.

It took a while for Soda to warm up to the idea—he flat-out refused to come until I mentioned that yes, Steve was invited too—and I practically had to drag Darry out of the house and all the way to the theater. Not, of course, for real. Because there was no way I would be able to drag Darrel Curtis Jr. anywhere he didn't want to go. Steve was fine with it as long as Soda was there—he's gotten a bit more easygoing lately—and Two-Bit didn't take much convincing at all. Even at nearly twenty-five now, he still liked a chance to check out a few more blondes. Even if he did have a girlfriend already.

I didn't tell them the movie because I wanted to see their reactions from what they saw on the screen. And as the theater grew dark, I could only wait and see what they thought as their emotions splashed across their faces.

As the first strains of the opening music played ("Seize, upon the moment long ago") I heard Steve snicker. It wasn't until they saw the name appear on the screen—Dallas Winston: Matt Dillon—and I turned to look at them that I saw Soda's jaw drop, Steve's face mold back into a cold, hard mask, Two-Bit look confused, and Darry shoot me a questioning glance. And I continued to watch their faces as all the names came on and off the movie screen.

Johnny Cade: Ralph Macchio

Ponyboy Curtis: C. Thomas Howell

"What's the C stand for?" piped up Two-Bit. "Crackhead?"

Darrel Curtis: Patrick Swayze

"You said your life was enough to handle without watching other people's on a screen," I whispered across Sodapop and Steve to where Darry was sitting. "How do you like seeing your own?" Darry didn't answer, because Sodapop's name was up next.

Sodapop Curtis: Rob Lowe

"Hey, how come Darry's name comes before mine?" Sodapop complained, only causing Darry to give him a very superior-looking grin.

Two-Bit Mathews: Emilio Estevez

"What kinda prissy name is that?" Two-Bit exclaimed, looking very offended. "It's like French or something!"

"Spanish, Two-Shit," Steve said with a smirk.

Steve Randle: Tom Cruise

"Tom who?" Soda asked. "I've never heard of any of these guys, Pony! 'Sides, why is there a movie about us anyway?"

"That's 'cause you never go to see movies, remember?" I replied. "And it's about that story I got published a coupla years ago. They decided to turn it into a movie."

When the actor playing me—C. Thomas Howell—came onto the screen, Steve and Two-Bit—ever the comedians—burst out laughing. I had to grin myself—wasn't how I'd pictured myself on the big screen. But still, it was interesting to watch.

We saw me—or the actor pretending to be me, anyway—get followed home by the Socs, and Darry muttered, "Never used your head, kid." But this time he shot me a wink, and I knew he wasn't mad over something that happened five years ago.

And the movie me got beat up by the Socs—cut my neck, even; when I saw this I unconsciously rubbed my neck where they really had cut me that one day—and the gang came to rescue me, which also got a bunch of hoots and hollers at the screen. Good thing this was almost a private viewing—only a few other movie-watchers were there. But for now, we didn't care what other people thought. Our focus was on the movie.

For a couple seconds my friends and brothers had to figure out which actors were playing themselves. And when they did…

"That guy looks nothing like me!" Soda exclaimed indignantly.

"You're right," Steve agreed, "He's way better-looking that you ever were."

"Well, look at you!" Soda retorted, and that shut Steve up.

When Darry got a close look at his movie counterpart, all I saw on his face was a cool, unimpressed glance my way. Two-Bit didn't say anything either, surprisingly. He had opened his mouth to say something—knowing him, probably some smart-ass wisecrack—but when Johnny and Dallas appeared, he snapped it shut.

After that they were quiet for a while, watching the story unfold. It was like history repeating itself, only we all knew the ending. Death came at the end. Unavoidable pain. Luckily for Soda I knew they hadn't put Sandy in the movie. Two-Bit whistled suggestively at the scene where Soda lay talking to me in bed—I gave him a punch on the arm for that one—and they were all snickering when Dallas, Johnny and I chased those kids away down the field. Another whistle from Two-Bit—and I think Steve this time, too—when Cherry came into the scene at the movies. I had to admit, she was a real looker, just like the real Cherry. I was just thankful she wasn't watching this movie with us. Bob and Randy got scowls from Steve. I was noticing that they were the two reacting the most to what they saw. Mostly Darry just watched carefully, as though living it all again in his head; and Sodapop was uncharacteristically quiet too. But I had a feeling he would have a lot to say at the end of the film. And yeah, he tossed out the occasional comment too.

"Darry, how could you hit him?" he demanded furiously when Darry, indeed, shoved me across the room—although, in reality, he'd slapped me—and Darry threw up his hands in protest.

"Soda, you know that happened! That was five years ago, and besides, Pony knows I was awfully sorry afterwards, right, Pony?" Darry objected.

I nodded. "Don't worry about it, you two. It's just a movie."

"But it's real!" Soda insisted. "And what is with the guy playing me!?"

Really, some of it was hilarious to watch, even though it was still hard to see Johnny and Dallas—no matter how unlike them their actors might look—go through everything they did. But seeing yourself in a movie is one of the most fascinating, weird, and sometimes embarrassing experiences to have. And I was thoroughly enjoying mine.

Pure silence radiated from our row of seats when the murder took place. Soda and Steve groaned and covered their ears as strains of Hank Williams music floated from the party scene at Buck's—when Johnny and I went to find Dallas—but grinned as my ears turned red, remembering that night and the little "he's in the bedroom" exchange that had taken place on the doorstep.

We followed the actors playing Johnny and I as they stowed away on the train to Windrixville, hid in the church, recited the poem by the sunset—saw Soda blush, yes, blush a little when we compared him to Southern gentleman and Dally read his letter—and we all had to laugh at the conversation at the Dairy Queen.

But a hush came over them again as the burning church came into view. I knew they were all thinking the same thing as I was: this fire took Johnny's life. This is where the fun ends and it all starts to spiral downwards. This is the beginning of the end of our two friends' lives. Not an easy thing to watch, even in a movie.

The reunion at the hospital caused Two-Bit to quip, "Brotherly love! Ain't that sweet—you aren't crying, are ya Superman?" and Darry to wad up his movie ticket and chuck it his way. Soda laughed out loud watching Rob Lowe attempt to portray himself when he saw my hair.

"The movie you looks almost as funny as you really did with blonde hair, Pone," he teased me. "And why doesn't the fake Soda have blonde hair?" One of life's greatest mysteries, Sodapop.

Steve glowered at Tom Cruise jumping on me from behind. He was probably thinking that the real him would never hang around me voluntarily like that. Two-Bit questioned, quite rightly so, during the scene where we just hang around our house watching TV in the morning, "Why does that French guy have a weird thing about Mickey Mouse?"

"For shit's sake, Two-Bit, it's Spanish!" Steve informed him, exasperated. And we continued watching.

Soda sucked in his breath when he saw Johnny in the hospital, severely burned from the fire. He didn't cope well with things like that in real life. Since he'd never actually seen the real Johnny looking like that, I could understand why it would come as a shock to him. Darry, for the first time, looked really affected too. His expression was hard to read—hurt, anger, sadness was what I could see mixed in, with some other emotions too that I couldn't quite place.

"Don't leave the kid alone with that good-looking broad!" Two-Bit commanded his character when Cherry and I were talking alone in the lot. I had to smile at that.

Steve shot Soda a smug, satisfied grin as his character beat Soda in an arm wrestle when I was asking them why they liked to fight. Darry's muscle in his cheek twitched when movie Soda joked, "He likes to show of his muscles!" as I asked him the same question (onscreen).

The rumble was interesting to watch. Steve remarked dryly, "Good thing that's not really how we fight. There'd be nothing left of us!" Guess he thought the stunt fighting fell a little short. Every time he saw himself beating up a Soc, Two-Bit let out a little whoop. And Soda laughed out loud watching his movie character get punched in the gut three times before getting in a single punch back.

"Would never happen," he declared firmly.

"Sure, Soda," Darry teased him.

"This movie is ruining my reputation!" Soda complained good-naturedly.

Dead silence as Dallas and I entered Johnny's hospital room. The events in the movie had all been leading up to this moment. We'd known it was coming. We knew they couldn't have the movie end any other way. But still. It was hard.

Johnny whispered, "Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold." Then he died. Didn't matter that it was just an actor pretending to be our friend. In that moment, it was like five years ago, and we were all standing in that hospital room beside his bed, watching him slip away from us.

Steve closed his eyes, as if willing to make the image fade out of his mind. Two-Bit looked as serious as he had when I told him, and he found out he was gone for real, after Johnny really had died. Darry's eyes held raw pain. And I swear, Soda looked like he was about to start bawling. Me? I was just trying to keep watching the movie. After five years, I could still shut off my emotions when I needed to. I thought I needed to then. And it still wasn't over.

Bang. Shots fired, we saw Matt Dillon/Dallas go down. No jokes. No laughter. No complaints about how the actor didn't look a thing like our Dally had. Just calm. Silence.

Soda/Rob Lowe broke down. I was surprised to see Sodapop's ears turn as red as mine could—and still did—sometimes. I don't think he'd told Steve or Two-Bit about that. He'd forgive me—eventually.

Johnny's letter was at the very end, just before I started writing my semester theme for Mr. Syme. It was like getting a last message from our friend all over again, and they seemed to take it very seriously, even Two-Bit. But when the credits rolled and the lights came on…

"So, when are they gonna make a second one?" Two-Bit asked brightly. I rolled my eyes and chuckled. As always, he'd found a way to lighten the mood.

I knew that while they'd enjoyed poking fun at themselves on screen, I was going to have some explaining to do later.

But I knew getting his story out there was something Johnny would have considered gold. And for now it was enough knowing my friends' memories were being kept alive.