Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, but the characters you don't recognize.

Idea

New York City, 1965.

People always told her that laughter is the best medicine, but at the moment, the light bursts of giggles from the uniformed cheerleaders in the corner made Lori's head throb with annoyance.

Her pale, blue eyes narrowed at the slowly ticking clock. It was only the first ten minutes of class, and these stupid paper shakers were already pushing her buttons. Doris, her best friend, picked the wrong fucking day to be absent.

She wished she would've gone with Annette Lane and ditched this hellhole, but no – Peggy threatened to lock her in the bedroom without food or water the next time she'd decide to miss any school. Her mother's face looked so serious when she said that, so she vowed to never skip anytime soon.

Lori softly tapped her pencil against the desk out of boredom. Ms. Michaels was busy blabbing something about – yeah, she didn't even know. At least she'd gotten the cheerleaders to stop their bothersome guffaw.

A large, rough hand landed on top of hers. Jimmy Wells, a cocky rich kid, was glaring at her.

"Stop tapping that damn pencil, will you?" Even though he was whispering, his voice was still harsh.

She snatched away her hand that was still beneath his. "What're you gonna' do? And don't touch me." She glared right back.

She wasn't in the least scared that Jimmy would lay a hand on her again. Even though he was filthy rich and a jerk, he's not the type to hit girls – or even get others to do it. That's why Lori found it amusing to test him.

He sneered at her and focused on a yapping Ms. Michaels at the board. Candyass, Lori inwardly smirked.

She glanced at the clock again. Damn. Why did time have to go by so fucking slow? She wanted to get out of this shitty, confined place. She couldn't really stand being cooped up for so long; it was the same way at home.

"… so, I want you to choose a topic," Ms. Michaels folded her hands on her desk. "About a place you'd like to visit, about your personal life, anything you please."

Lori sat dumbfounded. She wasn't a very good writer, unlike the other people in her class. She didn't even know what she could write about, her life wasn't so fascinating. If anything, it'd make her teacher frown and treat her with pity. She scoffed, because she sure did hate pity.

"You have the rest of class to finish your chosen topic. Oh, and at least three paragraphs," Ms. Michaels continued, and focused her attention on a stupid looking book in front of her.

Lori peeked out the corner of her eye; Jimmy was already writing. As was everyone else, actually.

She glowered at the lined paper and picked up her pencil. She wrote her name first, and whatever came to her mind – which was a lot of things.

Lori Winston

Sometimes, I get jealous of other peoples lives. My mom always told me that life wasn't fair. Why couldn't I grow up with a loving father? Why did I have to ask, "Where's daddy" almost every day of my life? She was right, life isn't fair, but we have to deal with what we have. People are incapable of planning how they want their lives to go, or what occurs in their lives for that matter.

Sometimes, I feel like breaking down and crying. My mom always told me I didn't have to act tough, that it was okay to cry every once in a while. I'd cry because my old man left us. I'd cry because I haven't seen my brother since I was eight or nine years old. I'd cry whenever my ex best friend made fun of me behind my back. She was right; you don't have to be strong for everyone all the time.

Sometimes, I just wish the world was perfect – my life was perfect. Everyone could just be happy and safe walking on the hectic sidewalks home from school, kids would have two parents to support them, crimes wouldn't exist, the only thing in the paper would be about singers and movies.

Whether we want it to or not - life isn't perfect, neither am I, or anyone else. Never will be.

Satisfied with finishing, Lori leaned back against her seat. She was never one for expressing her feelings in stories, made her feel too damn sappy. She looked at the clock for the third time that day. Class would be over in a matter of seconds.

Ms. Michaels looked up from her book, and pushed the glasses that had fallen on the bridge of her nose to her eyes.

"Okay, class," she stood and propped open the door. "Get your things together and hand in your assignment as you walk out the door."

Chatting and laughter filled the classroom as students began to gather their books. The day was finally over.

She picked up her books and headed for the door, waiting impatiently behind Gloria Phillips as she turned in her paper.

"Thank you, Gloria," Ms. Michaels smiled at her, crinkles forming beside her eyes.

Lori walked up next and gave the teacher her paper. She prayed Ms. Michaels didn't say anything about it right there. Lori knew it wasn't the best paper, but at least she tried really hard this time (she'd had a record for turning in blank papers in the past).

She could tell Ms. Michaels tried to not show any of her shock when she shoved the paper in her hand.

Ms. Michaels scanned over the paper approvingly. "Thank you, Lori." She actually smiled at Lori for once, instead of that stupid I'm-so-disappointed-in-you- look.

Lori walked out of the classroom and rolled her eyes. "Hate school," she muttered and began walking out the front doors after she chucked her stuff in her locker.

"There you are," a loud voice said as soon as she leisurely walked out. She wheeled around to see her ride home.

"Christine, hey," Lori grinned. "Didn't see you there." She strolled towards her.

Christine rolled her brown eyes. "You never see me here," she said and tucked her stringy, black hair behind her ear. "Ready to leave this place?"

"You hafta ask?" Lori widened her eyes in fake shock at her friend. "Seriously, I'm ready to cut out. I just wanna' go home and fucking sleep."

"Alright, lets go," Christine laughed and guided her to the parked car. "I'm worn-out too."

Lori climbed into the front, and Christine followed by sitting at the wheel.

"Did you hear about Shelly Walters?" Christine started her daily gossip as she peeled out of the school's parking lot and down the street.

Lori looked out the tinted window, not in the least interested by the topic. "She's PG, right?"

Christine nodded frantically. Glory, could this girl talk too. "Yeah, by Brett Douglas. I heard it was at a party couple'a days ago."

Lori shook her head and sighed. Shelly Walters was no older than seventeen years old, and a guy she hardly even knew had knocked her up. A simple one night of fun left the poor girl with a child. But that's what you get, right?

"What a shame," she muttered monotonously, still staring out the window.

"Sure is," Christine agreed quietly, almost inaudible. She turned the radio on to fill the awkward silence, and Elvis Presley's voice hummed through the car.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, glad she didn't live too far from the school. Christine pulled into her driveway.

"Yeah, yeah," she grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "Just get outta' my car, will you? I've got places to be."

Rolling her eyes, she got out of the car and walked up the front stoop. Two honks let her know that Christine had left and was driving down the street again.

"Fuck," she glared at her jacket pocket. She dug into the pocket once more just to be sure. Damn key still wasn't in there.

Already knowing the door would be locked, she banged on the door with her fists.

"Mom, open the door. Mom!"

She could hear the locks being undone. The door swung open revealing a very irritated looking Peggy.

"What the hell," she coughed through the cigarette dangling from her red lips. "What the hell are you banging on my goddamn door for?"

She rolled her eyes at her repulsive mother. "I forgot my key!"

Peggy opened the door wider and scowled at her. "You always forget your key, next time you're gonna' be spending the night on the street, huh?" She side stepped out of the way.

"No," she said flatly and walked down the hall to her room, being sure to slam the door once inside.

Peggy didn't always use to act like that. She used to be well-mannered, kind, pretty, and actually motherly. Lori thought that maybe her dad had made Peggy the bitter way she was now. Seemed pretty reasonable. After all, the guy did take her only son from her and moved to lord knows where. Still, you shouldn't treat other people like shit because of what happened to you.

She groaned and sat on her bed, paying no attention to the creaking bedsprings. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling, a crazy idea popped into her head.

She was gonna' ditch this jungle of a city. Move to somewhere smaller, where things would be quieter, safe even.

"Mom," she called opening her door and walking to where Peggy was seated on the sofa. "I needa' ask you something."

Peggy still sat there like a bum on a log. Her eyes were narrowed at the television, and the same cigarette hanging from her lips.

"Where does Aunt Rebecca live?"

That got her attention.

"The hell do you want to know for, kid?" Peggy turned towards her, scowling.

Lori shrank back at her tone, but only a little.

"I… just wanted to spend time with my favorite aunt," she shrugged, but inside, her heart was pounding at an unbelievably fast pace. "And, tomorrow's the last day of school. So it works out just fine."

"I'm not driving you," Peggy glared.

"Train," Lori said. "I can take a train, or, uh, something." And for a second, she could see something flicker behind Peggy's brown eyes.

She turned back to the television. "Tulsa," she nodded, putting out her cigarette. "Oklahoma."

A/N: I'm not the best writer, but honestly, I think I'm getting a little better. FanFiction is just practice for me 'till I go big. So, what'd you think? (Next chapter will be slightly better, promise.) Oh, and you know - I was going to do a Curtis sister fic, but there was already a good one. And a good Two-Bit sister fic too. So, I'm all... why not a Winston sister? Haven't seen a non-Mary Sue story of that. Cheers to my first Outsiders fic! (: