Dallas Winston Has A Sister? (Outsiders Fanfic)

Lucky I Didn't Get Blood All Over It

Note to Readers:  Sorry it's so short, but I hope you like it anyways. Also, I'll probably be starting a new story that's a collection of short ones just like this one, because this one is getting a little long, what with 60-some parts and all...  

  I walked down the street, wearing jeans and a tank top.  I would have had my typical T-shirt on, except for Dally hadn't fixed our wash machine yet and I hadn't had a chance to go to the Laundromat.  It's not like I was going to run around without a shirt on like some girls from our neighborhood were prone to do at one in the morning on any given weekend.

        I was also wearing Ponyboy's jacket, because he had given it to me to borrow for some reason or another a couple days ago.  I was on my way to return it right now, actually.  That is until I heard an all too familiar voice behind me.

        "Well if it isn't my friend, Tar," Curly Shepard remarked.

        I stopped but didn't turn around, answering icily, "If friend means 'person who wishes you would rot in hell,' then yes."

        "Oh come on.  You don't hate me that much, do you?" he asked with mock hurt, coming up behind me and oh-so-casually draping an arm across my shoulders.

        I gritted my teeth, stiffening and ready to hurt him in the most convenient way possible.

        Before i could do that though, he asked, with a mix of surprise, curiosity, accusation, and a hint of jealousy it almost seemed, "Are you wearing Curtis's jacket?"

        I swiftly grabbed his wrist that was still across my shoulders with both hands and then spun out from under him and around behind, a firm grip on his arm as I proceeded to twist it in a very un-natural angle behind his back. He let out a cry of pain, and with a shove I sent him careening into a brick wall.  He stumbled, trying to stop, but with a grunt and a smack he hit the wall anyways and fell to the ground.

        "Yes, it is.  And you're lucky I didn't get blood all over it," I remarked haughtily as I caught sight of the red liquid streaming from his nose and mouth.  Blood flew from his lips as he spit out a cuss word, but he stayed on the ground.

        I walked away, barely resisting the urge to brush my hands of imaginary dust like a dirty job well done.